Pairing/Character: Gambit and Wolverine (not romantic)
Word Count: 1195
Summary: Post X1. Introduces Gambit to movieverse. Remy/Logan friendship fic. Follows Remy from late childhood into adulthood and his life as a thief. Costars: Storm, Belladonna, Jubilee, Lapin, Scott, and Rogue. This has been posted to fanfic.net already.
Spoilers: No spoilers really but X1 to be safe.
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men or make any profit from them. Nor do I own the National Enquierer and to my knowledge they have not harrassed Wolverine.
Wolverine bit back a growl. He didn’t know why SHIELD was sending him to Japan via commercial jet rather than military transport, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to scare the civilians with his “animalistic” tendencies. He may not care what people think of him but dealing with them was an unnecessary hassle. Too many idiotic tourists seemed to think it was a good idea to use their camcorders to get visual evidence of a “wild man among us.” This was supposed to be a covert operation and Wolverine couldn’t completely forget the time he’d discovered just how difficult it was to scare off a reporter from the National Inquirer. Hell, the man had been more tenacious and more ruthless than any assassin.
He really needed to stop doing favors for Fury. He cringed when a three-year-old, twelve rows back, got airsick. Fucking enhanced senses. There were way too many people on this flight ; way too many sounds and way too many vile smells, which he didn’t want to identify, even if he could. He supposed he was lucky he wasn’t the woman in front of the kid. She now desperately needed to wash her hair. Fury had been unusually vague about the nature of the assignment, promising details later. Wolverine never considered that to be a good sign and had anyone but Fury been so evasive Wolverine would have refused from the get-go. Wolverine respected Fury and he trusted him, but if his questions weren’t answered soon Fury could find someone else to handle the problem.
A tall auburn-haired teenager fidgeted in the entranceway of a small church in the French quarter of New Orleans. His copper bangs fell over his unusual eyes as he tilted his head down to look at his watch, “She's late Lapin, she shoulda been here… in anoder t’ree minutes. So she ain‘t late. She still shoulda had de decency to be early for somet’ing like dis.” Lapin grinned. He had never seen his cousin visibly nervous before, “Remy, I don’ think dere be set etiquette fo’ punctuality when gettin’ married, in secret, six months before your set wedding date. Calm down. Bella’ll be here.”
Remy sighed. Lapin’s words would be more comforting if Remy couldn’t feel the strain literally radiating from the shorter red-head. His empathy was growing stronger and it was taking more and more effort to block the feelings of those around him. Even when his blocking was at its fullest he could feel the faint pulse of blurred emotion brushing the outer-edges of his mental shields, a constant reminder of the throngs of humanity that surrounded him in his native city. When his blocking was weak it threatened to overwhelm him and strong emotions from those near him or the emotions of those closest to him had an annoying tendency to penetrate his shields at all times. Belle’s tardiness was making Lapin nervous too, but the entire scheme made Lapin uneasy. Maybe this was a bad idea. It had seemed so important when he proposed the idea to Belle, but now, faced with the prospect of something going wrong or the wrong person finding out, he was starting to get nervous. That could just be because he was standing next to Lapin.
Exactly at the stroke of one, two girls waltzed in the front doors. Their looks of pious serenity quickly morphed into identical self-satisfied smirks. They had made the boys sweat on purpose. The blonde wore a modest white sundress. Her friend wore navy capris and a t-shirt which read, “WWJD.” Remy heard Lapin stifle a snort when he caught sight of it. Both boys had tensed when they saw the raven-haired young woman. They knew Singer well enough to know she wasn’t what was generally considered “good people.” She was dangerous. Neither boy knew her real name, but had heard the rumor that she had earned her pseudonym by torturing people for information. It was unlikely to be true, not being standard assassin procedure, but frighteningly easy to believe. The woman had an unhealthy love for her work. Remy fervently wished that Bella had asked her maid Maria to accompany her rather than her best friend. Maria was a nice, sweet girl who spent her spare time studying medicine with Tante Mattie. Remy narrowed his eyes at the girls. He couldn’t yell at them for being late, they weren’t, but how he wanted to.
Belle gave Remy a once-over while he tried not to fidget, it felt like he had been standing in one place forever. She smiled and Remy was relieved. He had been worried about his outfit. He was wearing dark jeans and a button down-shirt. He would have liked to wear something more appropriate for the occasion, but tuxes were hardly discreet attire for a fifteen-year-old wandering the streets of New Orleans at one in the morning. Lapin was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Remy returned Belle’s smile and the four budding criminals entered the chapel with trained grace and silent footsteps.
Soft French filled the chapel as Father Peters performed the ceremony. Afterwards, the wedding rings were slipped onto chains and under clothing. Lapin and Singer re-affirmed their vow of silence to the newly-weds and stole home. Remy and Belladonna spent their first night together in a secluded area by the Mississippi and snuck back into their windows just as the sun started to come up. Remy grabbed his packed bags and was on his flight to Tokyo before his new wife went to breakfast.
Wolverine breathed the relatively fresh air outside the Kyoto airport with some measure of relief. It wasn’t the wilderness but it was better than the canned air he had been breathing until this moment. He promptly coughed as car exhaust hit his lungs. Alright, it wasn’t much better, but it was better. He got into his waiting cab, gave the driver the address of his hotel, and pulled out his cell. He dialed a number by memory, “OK bub, time to start talking.”
Remy rolled over in his bed and answered his cell. He was greeted by the hysterical voice of his wife, “Remy, I screwed up. I need yo’ help.” He groaned, “Where are you?” “Kyoto.”