#gambit angst

You two were going out clubbing that night - or rather, you were, and invited him to tag along. "I thought I would go out in sweats and a hoodie," you winked at him through the mirror.

"What're you gon' wear?" Gambit leaned against your open bathroom doorway as you finished your face wash routine.

He rolled his eyes and feigned offense. "Come on. What're ya wearin'?"

"Something." Your eyes twinkled.

Gambit groaned and threw his head back dramatically. "Damn it, cher, ya really gon' make me beg for an answer?"

"You'll see!" You packed away your face wash supplies and turned to shove him out of the bathroom. "Unless you want to see me naked, skidaddle!"

Just as you grabbed the door handle to swing it shut, a cocky grin formed on Gambit's face. You held up one finger, poked him square in the chest, and slammed the door in his face.

"Don't keep me waitin' too long, darlin'!" He shouted through the door. "I'm gettin' impatient."

You didn't keep him waiting too. Only a minute later you unlocked the door, revealing the grand outfit for the evening. The top was of a sheer and mesh dark purple and black thread. The fabric clung to every major curve of your torso with reverence. The sleeves fit snugly along your entire arms until the wrist, where it cascaded into a drip of fabric - similar to a moth's wings.

Under the see-through purple cloth was a black tank piece, specifically designed only to cover the bra zone. The purple shirt was already hemmed to end right at the high-waisted belt line, but any movement of your arms above shoulder length sent the top rising an inch. Complimenting the purple, illustrious top was a simple pair of black shorts and would be your favorite leather black booties.

You may or may not have chosen the outfit for him.

"What do you think?" You offered, giving an excited spin. "I'm gonna have gold bangles, too."

He was speechless as he watched you come out of the bathroom, completely stunned by your appearance. Every inch of you was on full, tantalizing display, and he felt his mouth go dry as his eyes roamed over you.

Finally, he managed to find his voice.

"Sweet... Jesus," he muttered, his voice low and rough with desire. "Damn, darlin'... you look gorgeous. Absolutely goddamn gorgeous."

"Like what you see?" You laughed, playfully kicking your leg back.

"Like it? Chere, I love what I see," he said, his eyes still drinking you in. "Damn, I... I don't think I'm gonna be able to keep my hands off you tonight."

"You need to allow me at least two dances with strangers." You scolded him with a finger. "I need to grind on at least two strangers to get free booze."

You never danced with other men when you did go out, which was a rarity, and always with the other women. This was your first time going with Gambit, and if you were telling yourself the truth, you had no idea why you were lying. The free alcohol came without effort.

He groaned at your comment, feeling a possessive pang of jealousy course through him at the thought of other men dancing with you.

"Cher..." he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Two goddamn dances? Ain't that a bit excessive?"

"I plan on getting shit-faced. Are you gonna buy all my booze?" You cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't think so."

He couldn't help but laugh at your retort, begrudgingly admitting that you had a point. Still, his possessive nature was rearing its ugly head.

"Ugh... alright, alright. Two dances with strangers. But that's it," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "And don' ya dare get too... friendly with any of those men, ya hear me?"

"What are you gonna do if I get a little friendly?" You scoffed as you began the plunge into your makeup bag.

He narrowed his eyes at you as you began digging through your makeup bag. He walked over and stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back. He leaned down and spoke in a low, warning tone.

"You don't wanna know what I'll do if you get too friendly, mon ami," he said, his hand sliding around to your waist. "But trust me, you won't like it."

You hummed and leaned over the counter to be closer to the mirror to apply the eyeliner and mascara. "A girlie has needs, Mr. LeBeau. Sometimes, that need is a pity-fuck."

His grip tightened on your waist. His temper was flaring up at the mention of you being with another man, despite his brain knowing that you were probably just trying to piss him off.

"Damn it, darlin', you know exactly how to push my buttons, don't ya?" He said, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can just throw that kinda talk out there and expect me to be fine with it?"

You leaned back slowly, turning my body only halfway to look at him. "I'm not yours to be fine for, Gambit."

His expression darkened at your words, the possessive urge rising in him even more. He couldn't stand the thought of you being with other men. It drove him crazy.

"Oh yeah? Then who the hell do you belong to, Chere?" He snapped, his red eyes locking with yours. "Cause you sure as hell don't belong to any of those other men. You're mine, goddammit."

"Take a step back," you ordered calmly. Too calmly. Ice cold.

Gambit hesitated for a moment, his muscles tensing at your commanding tone, but he took a slow, reluctant step back, his hard eyes still locked on yours.

You glared into his eyes. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that again.”

He stood there, taken aback by your sudden shift in attitude. It was rare to see you lose your cool like this.

"I'm... I'm sorry, cher," he said, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I shouldn'ta said that. It was possessive and... controlling. I didn't mean to-"

"Mhm." You turned back to the mirror, returning to the mascara.

Gambit stayed silent for a moment, watching as you returned to your mascara. A mixture of guilt and shame coursed through him.

After a while, he spoke up in a quieter tone. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I don't know what came over me. I just get so jealous and... and possessive, and I can't stand the thought of you with another man. But I know I have no right to act that way... I'm sorry."

"No, you do not." You blinked your one dolled-up eye. "If you really wanted to have a right to talk like that, you wouldn't be off fucking other women every other week."

He flinched at your words, guilt washing over him once more. He knew he had no defense against your accusation - it was true, after all. He had been with endless other women since he met you, and now here he was, getting angry at the thought of you doing the same thing.

"I... I know," Gambit sighed heavily. "I know I don't have the right to be possessive like that. It's just... it's hard. It's hard to watch you with other men, especially when they're eyein' you up like pieces of meat."

"If I'm allowing them to eye me like a piece of meat, that's my own business."

He clenched his jaw, hating how right you were. He knew he had no right to dictate how you behaved or who you talked to. But damn it, he couldn't help the jealousy that gnawed at him every time he saw another man looking at you.

"I know, I know," he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "It's just... it drives me crazy when they're lookin' at you like that, touchin' you. I just want to knock 'em out every goddamn time."

"Then don't come with me. But I'm going."

He let out an exasperated sigh, knowing that he wasn't going to win this argument. "Alright, alright," he said finally, relenting. "I'll come with you. But I'm not gonna be happy about it, darlin'."

You nodded curtly, blinking your eyelashes. "Gold eyeshadow, do you think? To match the bangles?" You offered, pivoting the conversation.

He let out a small sigh as you expertly changed the subject, grateful for the distraction from the tension.

"Yeah, gold eyeshadow sounds like a good idea, darlin'," he said, leaning against the wall again. "It'll go well with your top and jewelry. And..."

He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over your top, taking in your curves yet again.

"It'll look good on you either way, cher."

You smiled and rummaged for the metallic palette.

He watched as you dug through your makeup bag, his eyes still roaming over you involuntarily.

"You almost done, darlin'?" he asked, his voice low and a little strained. "We gotta get going soon."

"We have all damn night!"

He rolled his eyes at your words, fighting off the urge to grab you and pin you up against the counter right then and there. You were making things harder for him - in every sense of the word.

"You're the one who's taking so damn long," he said, his voice ragged with desire. "I'm getting real impatient over here."

"You're going in that?" You asked, pointing your eyeshadow brush at his clothes. "Nothing wrong with them. But a girl has to doll herself all up like she's going on a red carpet. Then you have the men out in jeans and dirty boots." You considered this before laughing. "But I suppose it is an even payoff."

Gambit looked down at his clothes, realizing that you were right - he wasn't exactly dressed to the nines for the night. But then again, men didn't need to dress up as much as women were expected to.

"You got a point, doll," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But you, on the other hand..." His eyes roamed over you once more, taking in every inch of your body.

"You look absolutely goddamn stunning."

You flipped your hair dramatically over your shoulder, ignoring the heat rising to your neck.

He couldn't help but chuckle at your dramatic flair, thoroughly enjoying every second of your performance. But the heat rising to your neck did not escape his notice.

"Don't get all shy on me now," Gambit teased, stepping closer to you. "I know ya love it when I compliment you."

"Who wouldn't?" You swooped the golden powder across your eyelids with expert precision.

He let out a low whistle of appreciation as he watched. "Damn, cher, you're a regular artist with that brush," he said, his eyes roaming over your face. "But you'd look even better without it."

"Now you're just lying."

Gambit laughed and shook his head, taking another step closer to you.

"No, darlin', I'm definitely not lying," he said, his eyes locked with yours. "You always look beautiful, makeup or no makeup. But there's just something about how you look up close and without all that stuff on..."

He leaned in even closer, his body mere inches away from yours.

"I can't get enough of it."

You ducked your face, humbly smiling and continuing the last steps of the makeup.

"See? There it is," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "That adorable little bashful smile. You're a puzzle, darlin' - confident and sexy one minute, then shy the next."

"Women have layers, Remy," you deadpanned, though smiled.

He chuckled at your deadpan comment, thoroughly amused by your wit.

"Oh, I know all about women and their layers, darlin'," he said, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "That's what makes you guys so damn intriguing."

He studied your face for a moment, admiring the way the golden eyeshadow made your eyes pop. Your eyes flitted minutely to his through the mirror, choosing to ignore the flutters in your stomach and heart.

He dared to bring one hand up to gently pinch your hip. You giggled and smacked his hand away. "You're moaning and bitching about me taking so long, but you're here distracting me!"

Gambit laughed at your retort, reluctantly conceding to your point.

"Alright, alright," he said, taking a step back and holding his hands up in surrender yet again. He gave you one last lingering gaze, unable to resist eyeing you up yet again, before turning and walking out of the bathroom.

You selected the most medium-sexy lip gloss in your arsenal. A deep pink, barely edging into red territory, but still dull enough to not contrast against the metallic golden accents of the eyes and wrists.

You emerged from the bathroom not five minutes later after slipping on the leather boots, giving him one last spin to show the finished product.

Gambit's jaw dropped as he took in the sight of you in your completed outfit. The top, the shorts, the makeup, the boots - all of it together was an absolute sight to behold. He couldn't help but let out a low whistle of appreciation.

"Mon ami..." he breathed out, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. "You look like a goddess."

"Just what I like to hear." There was no suppressing the blush this time, but that was okay.

He smiled as he noticed the blush spreading over your cheeks, finding it endlessly endearing. You were still trying to maintain your confident demeanor, but he could see the cracks in the armor.

"Damn right you like hearing it," he said, rising to his feet and sauntering over to you. "But then you already know how good you look, don't you, chere?"

"Shush your face." You grabbed your purse and walked out the door without another word.

Gambit rolled his eyes at your flippant response, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. You were stubborn as hell, and he loved it. He watched as you walked out the door, his eyes glued to your hips in those damn shorts.

He caught up with you near the garage. You were approaching his car, not yours.

You winked. "You're driving home."

He chuckled at your wink and nodded in agreement. "Fair enough, darlin'," he said, fishing the car keys out of his pocket. "Just try not to distract me too much while I'm driving."

He opened the car door for you, unable to resist giving you one more quick once-over as you climbed into the passenger seat. His eyes lingered on your legs, those damn shorts already driving him wild.

"Careful," Gambit warned, shutting the door behind you. "Keep looking like that and I won't be able to keep my eyes on the road."

You laughed out loud and covered your lap with your purse, which only covered about 50% space. "You big baby."

He shot you a mock-glare, trying to ignore the way your smirk was making him feel.

"You're so damn cocky sometimes, darlin'," he said, starting the car and pulling out of the garage. "You know exactly what you're doing to me in those shorts, don't you?"

Your heart settled in your throat, not able to tell if his flirtations were genuine or womanizing. As always.

"They're not for you." You stared out the window, watching the mansion's beautiful property scenery pass us by.

He scoffed at your words, the jealousy burning in him at the thought of other men eyeing you up in those shorts.

"Then who the hell are they for?" He asked, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "You tryin' to catch someone else's eye?"

"They're for booze, my dude. They are for booze." You picked at your purse's zipper. "And can't I sometimes just want to show off my God-given body?"

Gambit gritted his teeth at your nonchalant response, trying to quash the possessive instincts that were rearing their ugly head once more.

"Sure, darlin'," he said, his voice tight with irritation. "I understand that. But damn it, it's hard to watch other men droolin' over you like meat."

"Oh my god..." You propped your chin up with your elbow against the door. "I cannot keep having this same conversation over and over!"

He let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that you were right. The same old argument played out every time you went out.

"I know, I know," he said, his temper slowly cooling down. "I just... I just can't help it, darlin'. I can' stand the thought of other men oglin' you and touchin' you."

"You don't hear me bitching about the other women that are gonna be jumping on you."

Gambit grumbled at your comment, knowing that you had a point. He had been hit on plenty of times in the past, and it didn't bother him as much as thinking about other men touching you. Other men thinking they had a claim on you.

"Yeah, well... that's different," he said, his jaw clenching slightly. "I can handle myself with those women. But... you're different."

"Excuse me?" You exclaimed incredulously.

He let out a frustrated huff, trying to find the right words to explain himself.

"You're just... you're special, darlin'," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "The thought of other men even looking at you that way just drives me crazy. I can't stand it."

"What if I told you that I can't stand when other women look at you?" You shot back.

Never before had you fought such like this. Your comments about other men were mostly jokes, but knowing - and personally seeing - his reputation, there was no reason why both of you had to be sad and lonely that night. His hypocrisy had never bothered you such like that evening.

You had to take several deep breaths not to demand he pull over the car right there.

He sat in stunned silence for a moment, taken aback by your response. He had never considered that you might feel the same way about other women looking at him as he did about men looking at you.

"You... you mean that, cher?" He asked, his voice cracking with surprise and just a hint of vulnerability.

Your head snapped to the left, eying him for any humor or gripe. At the sheer study of his expression and tense hand on the wheel, your eyes lowered and your head trailed back to stare out the window.

"No," was all you could whisper as you buried your mouth in your hand.

He let out a heavy sigh, the tension in the car palpable as you both sat in awkward silence. He knew that you were feeling just as frustrated and possessive as he was, even if you didn't want to admit it.

"Look, darlin'," Gambit said finally, his voice low and gravelly. "I know it's not fair. But can you blame me for being jealous? You're..." He paused, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the words.

"What?" Your eyes barely craned to the left, your head not moving.

He took a deep breath, his grip on the steering wheel tightening yet again.

"You're... you're mine, darlin'," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "And I don't wanna share you with anyone else. I want you all to myself."

One couldn't cut the tension with the world's strongest shears. You bit your lips in on themselves, likely ruining the perfect lip color and the perfect face and the perfect facade.

"No, I'm not," your whisper was harsh. But the harshness was directly internally, not externally.

His heart clenched at your words, the pain in your whisper cutting him deep. He had never heard you sound so upset before, and it shook him to his core.

"Darlin'..." he started, but his voice trailed off, his throat suddenly dry. He had never been good at expressing his feelings, but he felt like he was losing you with every word you said.

"Just stop, Remy. Please."

He closed his mouth with a snap, silenced again by the pain in your voice. He didn't know what to say, what to do to fix this. All he knew was that your words had shaken him to the core, and he needed to find a way to make things right between you.

He took a shaky breath before speaking, his voice rough and vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, darlin'. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... I just can't stand the thought of losin' you."

The car was downtown now, just pulling onto the first busy business street of the nightlife district. You gripped your purse tight with one hand and grabbed the door handle with the other. "Let me out here."

Gambit's eyes widened in disbelief, panic seizing his chest as he realized what was happening. He slammed on the brakes, the car jerking to a stop.

"What? No, chere," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. "Please, don't do this. We can talk about this, we can figure it out."

You said nothing before yanking on the handle, stepping out, and making a very conscious effort not to slam the car door behind you. You took off a steady pace down the sidewalk before the next breath could cross your lungs.

He watched in horror as you walked away, his heart racing with panic. He couldn't believe this was happening, that you were leaving him like this. He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out of the car, running after you.

"Y/N, wait!" Gambit called out, his voice strangled with anxiety. "Please, we need to talk about this!"

You walked into the first club your eyes could land on - conveniently only five doors down.

Gambit followed closely behind you, barely resisting the urge to grab your arm and force you to stop. He followed you into the club, a look of desperation on his face. He didn't care about the music, the people, the lights, nothing except getting you to stop and talk to him.

"Y/N, please, stop for a minute," he pleaded, his voice rising over the club's music. "Can we just talk about this? We don't have to end things like this!"

"We're not ending things. I'm getting a drink," you stated to the entire room, not knowing or caring if he heard you.

"Y/N, just listen to me for a minute," Gambit said, grabbing your arm and pulling you to a quiet corner of the bar. "We can work this out, I swear. Just don't do this."

"Get your fucking hands off me!" You yanked your arm away.

He recoiled at your angry response, hurt and confusion etched across his face.

"Darlin', I just... I just wanted to talk to you," he stuttered, his eyes scanning your face, searching for any hint of forgiveness. "Please, can we just talk?"