and if I said a chaste kiss meant to say thank you. for our romy. continuing to confuse everyone around them in the funniest way possible.
@hopedefined
When they broke up for the final time, the Mansion held their breath, preparing for a knock-out, drag-out kerfuffle to rival Scott's latest love mishap. Instead, like usual, they defied the odds and fell apart like a well-beloved sweater, softly and with an aching, mutual affection that bled through their actions without tipping over into the romantic.
It works for them--falling back and discovering each other as friends first without him scheming to impress her and her not having to shrink herself to be with him.
That's not to say everything's absolutely perfect between them. They've got their moments--like when Rogue started making cow eyes at somebody else and Remy locked himself up in the Danger Room for hours, bleeding his energy to damn-near nothingness or when old ghosts of Remy's who never knew better to lie low began popping up and interfering in both their lives--but it works for them.
They make it work for them.
Things have been...hectic as hell around here. Rogue's latest beau had done run out and Logan was gone somewhere trying to find his self for the umpteenth time. Probably somewhere too damn cold for any common sense to thrive. Remy, still wrassling with the threat of the Assassin's Guild on his ass every time he even thinks about New Orleans, carves out time to drag Rogue out of her funk with a home-cooked meal, Mississippi pot roast and cornbread. Cornbread that he immediately drowns in milk 'n a drizzle of molasses to her disgust. Too sweet, she declares. He flicks out his tongue, devilborn and raised, and retorts:
β Ain't never got no complaints 'bout dat, sha. β
The punch to his shoulder nearly makes his damn arm fall off, but the sweet, chaste kiss to his cheek and the thanks, sugah almost makes up for it.
