#(very light)

You flicked the stove off and set the kettle down onto a different burner, grabbing the honey out of the cabinet and dutifully stirring in a spoonful and making sure that it was fully dissolved before placing the tea bag into the lightly sweetened water, giving it a lackluster stir.

“There you are, been lookin’ for you. Welcome back, cher.” Gambit’s cheerful voice rang out right as he wrapped his arms around your waist, the man wasting no time burying his nose against the back of your neck in order to breathe in the scent of your shampoo for a moment before giving a sigh of contentment and peppering little kisses across your shoulder. 

You let go of your cup, letting it sit on the counter to steep, and placed your hands over Gambit’s, which were resting on your midsection as he gently rocked the two of you. His clinginess wasn’t anything new –Gambit was naturally a very tactile person after all, especially with people he liked– but his needy behavior always seemed to escalate whenever you two were separated for more than a day.

This time, it was you that had been sent out on a mission, which meant that it’d been four whole days since you’d seen Gambit, and that was reflected in the borderline desperate way he held onto you, like you’d suddenly disappear if he let go.

“Tu te sens bien? Somethin’ wrong, mon cœur? You bein’ real quiet.” Gambit murmured against your shoulder and you braced yourself for him to implement his usual tried and true method of needling at you until you gave in and told him what was bothering you.

“I'm okay.” You said, only to immediately wince when your voice came out noticeably hoarse, like you hadn’t used it in awhile. You tried to clear your throat, but the attempt immediately devolved into a coughing fit –your lungs crackling in a concerning manner– and you shoved Gambit away from you so that you could rush over to the sink, leaning over the edge as you hacked up some phlegm and spit it into the metal basin with a look of disgust.

“Alright, fine, you caught me. I'm sick.” You admitted defeatedly once you realized that there was no hiding it anymore, your shoulders slumping as you miserably shuffled back over to where you had left your tea, pulling the bag out and throwing it away.

“Sick? Why didn' you say somethin' earlier?” Gambit repeated as he stared at you with visible concern, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out and take you back into his arms, but he didn’t. Whether it was because he didn’t want to catch whatever you had or because he was upset with you, you weren’t sure. “Have you seen the doc, uh, Jean?” He continued as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hip against the counter as he waited for your response.

“Um… no?” You replied slowly, a nauseating mix of guilt and defensiveness bubbling up your throat as you watched Gambit’s expression instantly morph into one of mild disappointment. “It's not like I planned on taking a dip into freezing cold water, but Logan fell in and needs must.” You snapped, frowning at the memory of watching Logan sink beneath the waves after being tackled into the water, the panic you’d felt when you realized that he was falling fast and you might not reach him in time.

Who knew that having a metal-coated skeleton made it a bit difficult to swim. If you hadn't gone in after him like you did, Logan would have most likely drowned, unable to get back to the surface by himself.

“Mon dieu, you stubborn idiot.” He muttered under his breath as he shook his head, reaching up to briefly pinch the bridge of his nose between two fingers before finally letting his hand brush against your back, rubbing up and down your spine soothingly until the tension in your body –which you hadn’t even noticed– eased.

“Yeah, well, you’re not any better.” You said petulantly, though most of the righteous anger you’d felt had already dissipated since you knew rationally that Gambit was right… as he usually was when it came to your recklessness and inability to properly take care of yourself, the man having had first hand experience with your self-destructive tendencies.

You swallowed hard, your lips pressing into a thin line as you tried to ignore how talking so much agitated your raw, scratchy throat as you picked up your mug and took a slow sip of your tea, hoping to help ease the discomfort since it didn’t seem like Gambit would be willing to drop the subject anytime soon, being the overprotective boyfriend that he was.

“But we not talking ‘bout Gambit right now, cher. We talkin’ bout you.” Gambit stated and, despite his words, there was no real bite to them. If anything, he sounded more affectionate than anything else as he spoke, his hand never faltering as it continued to idly glide over your back. “You and Wolvie shoulda been more careful.” Gambit added on as an afterthought as he pulled away, making his way over to the fridge and pulling it open in order to look at the contents.

Gambit said something else as he rummaged around the shelves, but it fell on deaf ears, your focus turned inward as the wording brutally reminded you of the fact that the last time you spoke with Gambit, it was during a pretty intense argument about how you needed to be more careful. An argument that luckily just ended in you promising to not put yourself in needless danger –if not for your own sake, than for Gambit’s continued peace of mind– before you left on the mission with Storm and Logan. 

A promise that you hadn’t hesitated to break the moment that someone’s life was on the line.

“Cher?” You heard Gambit call out to you and you blinked as you came out of the dark place your thoughts had led you to, glancing up to meet Gambit’s worried gaze. And whatever he saw in your face had his expression softening as he reached out to gently cup your cheek, brushing a calloused thumb under your eye.

“I'm sorry.” You mumbled quietly while sniffling miserably, your fingers twitching where they were wrapped around warm porcelain as remorse made your already congested, aching chest feel tight. 

“Don' do that. You got nothin’ to apologize for.” Gambit reassured, his tone light as he set the labeled container he’d been in the middle of scrutinizing back into the fridge in order to give you his full attention, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that never failed to make you feel like prey.

“But I broke my promise? To be more careful? You must be mad at me.” You said nervously, your eyes welling up with frustrated tears as you stared down at your cooling cup of tea in order to avoid meeting Gambit's gaze, terrified of the disappointment that you might see there since you weren’t in a good enough headspace to emotionally handle Gambit being upset with you.

The air in the kitchen shifted and an involuntary shiver rolled down your spine at the tension that had abruptly filled the room, looking up to find Gambit suddenly standing right in front of you without having made a sound.

You waited for the inevitable fallout now that you’d pointed out that he had every right to be furious with you, but he remained silent. He didn’t scold. Didn’t sigh or roll his eyes or crack a joke to deflect like he normally would have when the conversation became too heavy. Instead, he gently pried the mug from your hands in order to set it aside and then cupped both of your cheeks with warm palms until you had no choice but to hold his gaze.

“Listen here, mon amour,” He murmured, pausing for a moment to make sure that you were paying close attention before continuing. “You jumped into arctic water to save Logan’s thick skull from sinkin’ to kingdom come… after promisin’ me you’d take care? Yeah, that stings a little.” He admitted with a little laugh, a half-smile tugging at his mouth that somehow looked sad and proud all at once as he stared into your eyes, his thumbs dutifully sweeping away the occasional tear that slipped past your waterline.

“But mad? Non, cher. Never.” Gambit whispered like a confession as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours with a gentleness that felt like forgiveness. Your eyes drifted closed and you reached up to cling to his wrists, not because you wanted him to let go or because you wanted to get away, but to simply ground yourself as you matched his steady breathing. “You slipped on one promise while on the job. Shit happens, mon amour. I know dat as well as you do… don't mean it don't scare me near stupid.”

You let out a weak chuckle when he pulled away just far enough to plant a light kiss on the tip of your red nose, his own quiet huff of laughter blowing out across your face. You opened your eyes and your heart did something funny in your chest when you were met with Gambit’s boyish smile, the one that was reserved for you and only you; raw and real and nothing like the usual charming grin he used to get out of trouble.

You both took a moment to recover from the emotional moment you’d shared, and Gambit pressed one last kiss to your forehead before stepping away, returning to the fridge in order to collect the container he’d been looking at earlier and bring it over to the stove before squatting down and searching one of the lower cabinets for a pot.

“Now sit down before you fall over and lemme make you somethin'. Might even let you have some sweet potato ice cream if Gambit’s feelin’ generous.” Gambit said with a lopsided grin, and you took his advice and sat down at the breakfast bar, watching his long fingers reach for the various ingredients on the counter with practiced ease. “But you better not shut me out next time, hear? Ain't nothin' you go through I ain't willin' to face beside you, even if it's just a damn head cold.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” You agreed with a small smile, lifting your cup back into your hands so you could breathe in the steam before taking a long sip, watching Gambit begin puttering around the kitchen over the rim of your mug.

Though, it wasn’t long before the tea alone wasn’t enough to keep you warm, your incessant cold rearing its ugly head and making you shiver in your over-sized hoodie, suddenly freezing despite the comfortable –bordering on warm now that Gambit was cooking– temperature of the kitchen. And you silently cursed when you realized that the sudden chill that you couldn’t shake was a surefire sign of a developing fever.

You debated the merits of getting up and making the exhausting trip to the living room in order to take one of the throws from the couch to wrap up in but, before you could even get up, Gambit turned away from the stove, pausing when he noticed that you were shivering. He abandoned the pot bubbling away on the burner and crossed the room in two quick strides, hurrying over to your side in order to press the back of his hand against your forehead, checking your temperature.

“Merde, cher, you’re far too warm.” He tutted under his breath when he felt the heat radiating off you, the Cajun brushing a strand of damp hair from your temple. Then, in one smooth motion, he took off his signature trench coat and swung it around your shoulders like a cape, fussing with it like a mother hen until he was satisfied. “Dat should do for now.”

You pulled the coat tighter around yourself as Gambit returned to the stove, waiting until his back was turned before caving into the urge to bury your nose into the collar of his coat and greedily inhale the scent of cologne and musk that lingered on the fabric, staying like that until a new scent began to fill the air.

You emerged from Gambit’s coat and perked up with thinly veiled interest as the delicious smell of something smoky filled the kitchen, your stomach giving a grumble of complaint as it reminded you that you had had nothing to eat but some applesauce all day due to your throat being sore. You eagerly leaned forward in your seat in order to try and get a better look at what it was that Gambit was cooking on the stove.