shrieks
It's been over a month since they returned to the school and their boathouse, and Rogue has yet to put together a proper shopping list. She's checking all the toiletries when her sudden shriek brings the pitter patter of running feet and cries of "Mama! You okay?"
Rogue sits there, laughing and crying, and pulls Becca with her worried face and Liv with his sweet hugs into her lap. She holds them close and reassures them. "Mama's just fine."
But she stares at the unopened pink box she should have completely emptied by now and can barely believe it's full.
prods
Her mutation is viciously in evidence that night, and it draws a raised eyebrow from Remy. He puts the kids to bed early—over her and their protests—then sits her down on their bed and demands her to tell him what's wrong.
She blushes and studies her own fingers knotting and unknotting.
"Rogue," he prods.
"I'm getting fat," she mutters abruptly.
Remy blinks, then pulls her into his arms. "First of all, y' ain't." He lays a finger over her mouth to stop her protest. "Second, if y' ever do get all matronly, I'm still goin' to love you."
measures
Each girl has a different fit: curvy, willow, straight as an arrow, a little dot of preciousness. Everyone smiles over the flower girl dress on Becca.
"Look like you, Mama." Becca giggles and twirls beside her mama's grown-up version of the bridesmaid dress.
Rogue has always had an hourglass figure, and even after three pregnancies, her measurements have yet to change.
So she is more than a little surprised at the numbers on the slip of paper Moira hands her.
"This is larger than my waist," she says.
Moira wraps the paper measuring tape around her waist again. "It isn't."
notices
Little things she's never noticed before now catch her attention and hold it.
How Remy lets her sleep and Rogue only finds out in the morning that Becca had a nightmare. The number of guys poker nights he's missed to spend time with her. How he hauls himself out of bed hours before he likes to get up to make her breakfast. That he always knows which of her library books are due.
"Remy LeBeau," she drawls, one hand on her hip, "you are dangerously close to perfect."
He stares at her for a long moment, then laughs in disbelief.
offers
She turns down Logan's offer for a place on the team and accepts Kitty's invite to be bridesmaid.
"When did that happen?" Rogue isn't the only one to demand.
Kitty blushes fiercely. "Piotr asked me last week."
The girls congratulate her and make plans and ooh and ah over wedding dresses. Kitty drags Rogue away from the group after a little while.
"How do you make it work?" she asks anxiously. "You and Remy are so good together."
Rogue stares. She's never thought about it, and it takes her a long time to answer. "We always put each other first."
drops
Logan drops his bagel. Kitty and Piotr stop talking and stare. Hank's bushy eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline. Jubilee falls out of her chair.
Rogue just grins at them, hand in Remy's swinging easily between them. "Morning," she says lightly.
Remy chuckles and moves his arm to her waist, flaunting all that bare skin against bare skin.
Lorna gives him The Look over her orange juice, all royal demand and less than impressed. "Care to share?"
"Well, you didn't really think we were just visiting family, did you?" Rogue asks coyly.
Logan laughs at Hank's grimace. "Professional envy?"
clothes
She declares independence by throwing on her favorite pair of shorts from Valle Soleada, a cherry-colored tank top, and sandals. No sheer overshirt. No sheer hose. No mitigation between the rest of the world and her own very dangerous skin.
"I like it," Remy says with a chuckle before kissing her lightly on the neck.
It isn't perfect. She can feel that tiny burst of his pleasure, but it fades so quickly and Remy himself is unaffected.
She twirls about in his arms and leans against him to get a real kiss. All she feels is her own heartfelt satisfaction.
accents
Hank is aghast at the children's English upon their return. Thick and spicy with Cajun flair and French vocabulary, their voices sound—justifiably—as though they've lived the last thirteen months in their father's home.
"What happened?" he demands.
Rogue has no energy to bother about it. "I've just driven two days with two cranky children halfway across the country, Hank. Spare me."
Logan snorts at her words and Remy's chuckle follows her down the hallway.
The girls are sweeter, grabbing happily chattering Liv and a sleepy Becca to ooh and ah and cuddle.
Storm hugs Rogue warmly. "Welcome home."
hugs
Leaving New Orleans again is like cutting out a piece of himself, but this time, there is no anger, no bitterness. Instead, he makes seven promises to write or call, finds himself drawn into more hugs than he can count, and watches all the precious goodbyes with his children.
"C'mere, y' rascal!" Henri catches a shrieking Liv in an iron grip.
"An' y' too," Tante Mattie's voice echoes behind him, and Remy spins around to be caught in one last hug. It means more than the rest. "Go home, Remy," she says. "But never forget t' come back here again."
surprises
Rogue's already snuggled in the covers when he settles in beside her, but she shifts a little when he draws her into his arms.
"You call them?" she asks.
"Oui." He stares down at her, noticing how sweet she looks staring sleepily up at him. His fingers reach almost unconsciously to fiddle with the white streak caressing her cheek. "You know, I never told dem why we were coming down. Just said we were visiting the famille."
It takes a moment before understanding flickers in her eyes. "Oh?" She giggles.
He shrugs. "We could surprise them."
Her eyes sparkle. "Let's."
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