"Chérie?" Remy shook his sleeping wife's shoulder gently.
She thwacked him with a pillow. Hard.
"Chère!"
Rogue moved the pillow out of her face and glared at him darkly. "Since ya hadn't noticed, swamp rat, Ah'm pregnant, tahred, and tryin' ta sleep at three o'clock in the mornin'!"
Remy sighed, rubbing one hand tiredly down his own face. Rogue had been about as pleasant as a housecat woken by a cold drenching since she'd gotten pregnant and now that she had self-proclaimed herself a beached whale, broken down, and bought maternity clothes, her mood had taken another decided dip southward. But heaven help him if he wasn't attentive and present and helpful. Even if being all those things got him plenty of glares and harsh words, what he got if he wasn't was much, much worse.
"Y' need anyt'in'?" he asked cautiously.
Her green eyes narrowed to slits. "Ah know ya didn't wake me up to ask how Ah was doin'." At least he better not have.
He hadn't. "'M hungry. Y' mind if I eat some o' dat leftover ice cream?"
"Ice cream?" One eyebrow winged upward. "Ya woke me up for ice cream?"
Remy rolled his eyes. He only had so much patience with playing dumb. "Chère. Y' took me off at de kneecaps las' time I ate somet'in' y'd asked me t' buy."
"Did Ah?" Rogue hummed thoughtfully, then sighed. "Ah suppose Ah did. Sure. Have some." She waved dismissively and rolled back into their generous mound of blankets, hugging the pillow against her rounded stomach.
Remy leaned over and pecked her there.
"Oh, stop," she whined.
"Jus' sayin' 'night t' de little fille." He grinned.
"Boy."
"Fille."
Rogue growled and shot him another glare. "Boy. Now git!"
He laughed but clambered out of the bed and pulled on a shirt without pestering her further. Remy took one last glance at the bed. Rogue had all but disappeared, except for a bit of brown hair fanned out from underneath the comforter. Even for all her grouchiness, he couldn't help but love her and love the idea of their child growing inside her.
He smiled and slipped out of the room.
The mansion was quiet, as expected at this ridiculous hour, but Remy had never needed much sleep and tended toward being a night owl, due to Jean-Luc's long, intense training in the Guild's profession. He was used to walking the empty halls down to the kitchen and helping himself to a nighttime snack. His red and black eyes were actually good for something at night, and he didn't bother turning on a light. He just opened the door to the freezer and pulled down a carton.
"Hmm..." Remy hefted it with one hand. "She been eatin' more dan I t'ought."
There wasn't much left, but it was enough for a good serving. He forewent the bowl and grabbed a spoon to polish it off out of the carton. There were certainly some advantages to being awake when Rogue was asleep.
A few minutes later, Remy stole quietly back into the bedroom, shucking his shirt on the way, and slid back in beside Rogue. She mumbled in her sleep, but she didn't stir as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
"Love y'," he murmured into her neck before falling back into sleep.
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He was awakened rudely.
The mattress buckled upwards beneath him, and he shouted in surprise as covers and Remy himself went off the bed in an abruptly tangled heap.
"Rogue?" He looked up at her in pure bewilderment.
Rogue was furious. She was livid. He had only rarely seen such fire in her emerald eyes, glowing almost as if she had acquired some charging power of her own. One hand was on her hip, the other swinging about an empty carton. He squinted. The ice cream carton?
"You—you swamp rat!" She could barely get out the words, she was so angry.
He scooted back as much as the tangled mass of blankets and sheets would allow him.
"Ah gladly, willin'ly share mah ice cream with ya, let ya wake me up in the middle of the naght without any retribution,"—the glare intensified—"and ya go and do somethin' lahke this! Ah can't believe ya! It was the last serving. The last!"
"Um...chère," Remy began cautiously, still eyeing the hand on her hip, knowing she was likely to find something to throw at him with it. "At the risk o' soundin' daft, what are y' talkin' about?"
A frustrated growl and the empty carton hit his head. Hard.
"Chère!"
"Look at that!" She pointed accusingly at the cardboard. "Just look at it, ya no-good, blahnd Cajun!"
Confused, Remy glanced over at the fallen carton, picked it up. "Black cherry—"
"Frozen yogurt!" Rogue finished for him at high volume.
He winced.
She crossed her arms. "What do ya have ta say foh yaself?"
He stared at the words. Frozen yogurt. It sure tasted like ice cream. "It was an innocent misunderstandin'?"
Rogue threw up her hands at him. "Ah give up. Ya just never gonna get it." Then she whirled and stormed toward the door, stopping just before she turned the handle. "Ah'm goin' ta finish off the ice cream with Kit. Ya're not invahted." Then she was out the door. It fell shut with a resounding slam.
Remy winced at the sound. "Well, dat went well, didn't it?" It was a struggle to extricate himself from the mangled bedcovers, but after a bit of struggling, he managed to free himself and stand up.
Great. Just great.
He grabbed his keys and yanked on a shirt and some shoes. He better go buy her a peace offering.
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Rogue opened the freezer door the next night and laughed until she had woken everybody in the wing. It was stuffed end to end with quart after quart of black cherry frozen yogurt.
She thwacked him with a pillow. Hard.
"Chère!"
Rogue moved the pillow out of her face and glared at him darkly. "Since ya hadn't noticed, swamp rat, Ah'm pregnant, tahred, and tryin' ta sleep at three o'clock in the mornin'!"
Remy sighed, rubbing one hand tiredly down his own face. Rogue had been about as pleasant as a housecat woken by a cold drenching since she'd gotten pregnant and now that she had self-proclaimed herself a beached whale, broken down, and bought maternity clothes, her mood had taken another decided dip southward. But heaven help him if he wasn't attentive and present and helpful. Even if being all those things got him plenty of glares and harsh words, what he got if he wasn't was much, much worse.
"Y' need anyt'in'?" he asked cautiously.
Her green eyes narrowed to slits. "Ah know ya didn't wake me up to ask how Ah was doin'." At least he better not have.
He hadn't. "'M hungry. Y' mind if I eat some o' dat leftover ice cream?"
"Ice cream?" One eyebrow winged upward. "Ya woke me up for ice cream?"
Remy rolled his eyes. He only had so much patience with playing dumb. "Chère. Y' took me off at de kneecaps las' time I ate somet'in' y'd asked me t' buy."
"Did Ah?" Rogue hummed thoughtfully, then sighed. "Ah suppose Ah did. Sure. Have some." She waved dismissively and rolled back into their generous mound of blankets, hugging the pillow against her rounded stomach.
Remy leaned over and pecked her there.
"Oh, stop," she whined.
"Jus' sayin' 'night t' de little fille." He grinned.
"Boy."
"Fille."
Rogue growled and shot him another glare. "Boy. Now git!"
He laughed but clambered out of the bed and pulled on a shirt without pestering her further. Remy took one last glance at the bed. Rogue had all but disappeared, except for a bit of brown hair fanned out from underneath the comforter. Even for all her grouchiness, he couldn't help but love her and love the idea of their child growing inside her.
He smiled and slipped out of the room.
The mansion was quiet, as expected at this ridiculous hour, but Remy had never needed much sleep and tended toward being a night owl, due to Jean-Luc's long, intense training in the Guild's profession. He was used to walking the empty halls down to the kitchen and helping himself to a nighttime snack. His red and black eyes were actually good for something at night, and he didn't bother turning on a light. He just opened the door to the freezer and pulled down a carton.
"Hmm..." Remy hefted it with one hand. "She been eatin' more dan I t'ought."
There wasn't much left, but it was enough for a good serving. He forewent the bowl and grabbed a spoon to polish it off out of the carton. There were certainly some advantages to being awake when Rogue was asleep.
A few minutes later, Remy stole quietly back into the bedroom, shucking his shirt on the way, and slid back in beside Rogue. She mumbled in her sleep, but she didn't stir as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
"Love y'," he murmured into her neck before falling back into sleep.
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
He was awakened rudely.
The mattress buckled upwards beneath him, and he shouted in surprise as covers and Remy himself went off the bed in an abruptly tangled heap.
"Rogue?" He looked up at her in pure bewilderment.
Rogue was furious. She was livid. He had only rarely seen such fire in her emerald eyes, glowing almost as if she had acquired some charging power of her own. One hand was on her hip, the other swinging about an empty carton. He squinted. The ice cream carton?
"You—you swamp rat!" She could barely get out the words, she was so angry.
He scooted back as much as the tangled mass of blankets and sheets would allow him.
"Ah gladly, willin'ly share mah ice cream with ya, let ya wake me up in the middle of the naght without any retribution,"—the glare intensified—"and ya go and do somethin' lahke this! Ah can't believe ya! It was the last serving. The last!"
"Um...chère," Remy began cautiously, still eyeing the hand on her hip, knowing she was likely to find something to throw at him with it. "At the risk o' soundin' daft, what are y' talkin' about?"
A frustrated growl and the empty carton hit his head. Hard.
"Chère!"
"Look at that!" She pointed accusingly at the cardboard. "Just look at it, ya no-good, blahnd Cajun!"
Confused, Remy glanced over at the fallen carton, picked it up. "Black cherry—"
"Frozen yogurt!" Rogue finished for him at high volume.
He winced.
She crossed her arms. "What do ya have ta say foh yaself?"
He stared at the words. Frozen yogurt. It sure tasted like ice cream. "It was an innocent misunderstandin'?"
Rogue threw up her hands at him. "Ah give up. Ya just never gonna get it." Then she whirled and stormed toward the door, stopping just before she turned the handle. "Ah'm goin' ta finish off the ice cream with Kit. Ya're not invahted." Then she was out the door. It fell shut with a resounding slam.
Remy winced at the sound. "Well, dat went well, didn't it?" It was a struggle to extricate himself from the mangled bedcovers, but after a bit of struggling, he managed to free himself and stand up.
Great. Just great.
He grabbed his keys and yanked on a shirt and some shoes. He better go buy her a peace offering.
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
Rogue opened the freezer door the next night and laughed until she had woken everybody in the wing. It was stuffed end to end with quart after quart of black cherry frozen yogurt.
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