In Sickness And In Health - Part 2
Remy LeBeau (Gambit) x GN S/O
Word Count: 2,635
Part 1
“Easy, cher,” Gambit chuckled, shooting you a teasing smile as he tossed a pinch of cayenne into the pot and gave it a thorough stir. “Don't think Gambit don't see you eyein' the food like a starvin’ dog lookin' at a steak. You been eatin' right at all this week?” He asked as he grabbed another spice bottle, tapping about a teaspoon of smoked paprika into the pot before setting it aside with all the other seasonings he’d amassed.
“Had a granola bar on the jet.” You winced even as you said it, already mentally preparing yourself for the scolding you were about to get for having one measly snack in a twelve hour span while actively fighting off a vicious head cold.
You gave Gambit a meek smile when the Cajun whipped around to stare at you without blinking –pure, unfiltered disbelief coming off him in waves– once he did the mental math, counting backwards from the current time, which was around five in the evening.
“You best be jokin’…” Gambit said without inflection and you shrugged in response since anything you could say at that point would only succeed in working the other man up further, and you did want to cuddle with Gambit later which would require remaining on his good side.
“Remy–” You began, gearing up to begin handling damage control, but Gambit was quick to cut you off before you could get more than a word out.
“Non,” Gambit snapped as he held up a finger –strict as a schoolteacher now– and you obediently shut your mouth with an audible click. “You said all Gambit need to know.” He said as he stalked over to the fridge like a man on a mission and yanked it open, sending condiments rattling in their slots.
Then, in what seemed like one blink and the next, he was multitasking between stirring the bubbling pot of stew on one burner, frying up two eggs on another, cutting up an avocado into thin slices and watching the two pieces of sourdough bread he'd popped into the toaster to make sure that they didn't get too brown.
“You unbelievable sometimes, you know dat?” Gambit muttered as he pulled the bread from the toaster and put it on a plate, the Cajun slathering a healthy amount of butter onto both slices with far more aggression than necessary while you brought your shoulders up to your ears, wishing that the ground would just open up beneath you and swallow you whole.
By the time Gambit had taken your lukewarm tea from your grasp and set down the golden toast layered with sliced avocado, a sprinkle of pink Himalayan salt and perfectly runny eggs in front of you, his tone had softened again –just enough to let you know that his ire came from a place of concern– but his eyes were still fierce when they locked onto yours.
“Eat.” He said simply. “All of it.” And, because you knew better than to argue with Remy LeBeau over something like this when he was already worked up, you picked up one of the slices of toast without another word of protest and took a bite.
Your stomach let out a loud growl as you chewed, like a beast waking from its slumber, reminding you that it had been far too long since you last had a proper meal. And, while you were unable to experience the full effect of the flavors all together –since your palate was messed up due to you being sick– you still let Gambit know that you appreciated the meal by letting out little pleased hums every few bites until it was gone.
You frowned down at the crumbs on your plate, your stomach giving another demanding gurgle now that your hunger had come back in full force after getting a taste of good cooking but, before you could act on the growing urge to lick the plate, Gambit was taking it away and placing a bowl of steaming stew in front of you.
You looked up and gave Gambit a toothy smile as you took the utensil that he offered you, impatiently scooping up a spoonful before bringing it up to your lips. Though, you paused with the spoon hovering mid-air somewhere between the bowl and your face when Gambit placed a cool hand over your mouth, keeping you from finishing the motion. You made a questioning noise from behind Gambit's palm, watching him with wide, incredulous eyes as the Cajun leaned down to gently blow on the spoonful of stew.
“Nuh-uh, not so fast, cher. It’s hot.” Gambit murmured as he reached out with his other hand in order to steady the spoon so that you wouldn’t spill while keeping the other over your lips. “You wanna burn that pretty mouth? Huh? After all the trouble Gambit go through cookin’ for you?” Gambit shook his head in mock exasperation as he blew a few more soft puffs of air across the steaming stew –slow, deliberate– his breath ghosting over the spoon like he was cooling it for a child.
Then, once he deemed it safe, he pulled his palm away from your mouth and used the light grip he had around your hand to guide the spoon up to your lips with a mischievous look in those sharp red-on-black eyes.
“Open wide…” He sang with a smug smile when you didn’t immediately take the offering and you narrowed your eyes at him in silent refusal even as he swept the spoon side to side under your nose like that would make the stew more enticing… like the food was what you had a problem with. Idiot.
You held out against his insistence but, once it became apparent that Gambit wasn’t going to let up without you indulging him at least once, you parted your lips and allowed him to guide the spoon into your mouth. Though, once it passed your teeth, you bit down onto the metal to keep him from withdrawing it and snatched the utensil away from him as you bared your teeth at him in warning, hoping to discourage him from trying a second time since your pride wouldn’t allow him to feed you like some dribbling toddler.
Gambit acquiesced to you with a polite little bow before pulling out the chair next to you so he could sit with his arm propped up on the counter top, resting his chin on his palm as he watched you eat with a fond smile, the only sounds filling the kitchen being the clink of metal on ceramic and the disapproving click of Gambit’s tongue every now and then when you didn’t blow on the stew long enough for his liking before shovelling another spoonful into your mouth.
You finished the stew much slower than you did the toast Gambit had made you, savoring each spiced bite of tender meat and soft vegetable, the hearty broth soothing your agitated throat and settling heavy in your finally satiated belly, warming you from the inside.
“So good.” You mumbled as you took the last bite, placing the spoon into the empty bowl before leaning back in your seat with a satisfied sigh, patting at your full stomach that was hidden beneath several thick layers of clothing as you resisted the siren song of a falling asleep right there at the breakfast bar.
Gambit chuckled at your obvious and –admittedly– quite pitiful attempts at staying awake, his dark eyes dancing with mirth as his thumb swiped across the corner of your mouth in order to clean up a spot of thick broth at the corner of your mouth as your vision blurred with the threat of sleep, each blink feeling like a herculean task.
“Bedtime, cher.” Gambit said softly as he helped you out of his seat, practically being forced to hold you upright as he guided the two of you out of the kitchen –leaving the dishes to be dealt with later– and down the hall back to the adult dorms where your room was located when you vehemently refused to stay over at Gambit's while sick as a dog.
Gambit eventually gave up on practically dragging you down the hall when you tripped over your own feet for the third time, the Cajun letting out an exasperated sigh before he swept your legs out from under you and lifted you into his arms in a bridal carry.
You grumbled under your breath but ultimately wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your weary head on his shoulder –since you were practically half asleep as it was– too tired and dizzy to protest against him manhandling you with your usual vitriol. You dozed for a few minutes, lulled by the rhythmic beat of Gambit's heart and measured steps, only coming back to awareness when he would carefully dodge the occasional rambunctious student racing down the halls on their way to class.
You cracked your eyes open when Gambit slowed his steady pace, before stopping entirely, and you pressed closer to him –burying your face against his shoulder– with a low grumble to dissuade him from trying to put you down since you were comfortable. He gently hushed you and readjusted his grip to free one of his hands in order to open the door and push his way into your room.
You heard him kick the door shut behind him and snuggled closer with a low sound of disapproval when Gambit brought you to the bed and –after flicking on the lamp on the nightstand, bathing the room in an unobtrusive golden glow– began to try and pry you off him with very little success.
“C'mon, mon cœur, no need to be difficult.” Gambit murmured as he pressed little kisses to your hair, slowly coaxing you into releasing him so he could gently lower you down onto the mattress before pulling the blankets out from under you and then off the bed entirely so that you were only left with only your top sheet.
“Remy… I'm cold.” You complained, shooting him a look of utter betrayal as he dumped your blankets into the laundry hamper, which was on the other side of the room. You blindly reached up and clumsily pulled your hood over your head and dragged the thin sheet up to your nose to try and ward off the chill in the air, weakly glaring at him when he returned to your side and began fussing over you.
“Nuh-uh, don't you look at Gambit like that, you.” Gambit murmured in a mock-scolding tone as he tucked the sheet in close to your body with firm tenderness, seemingly unsatisfied until you were all but swaddled in it, before briefly making a detour to the adjoining bathroom in order to wet a washcloth and bring it back over to you. “You think Gambit's gonna let you suffocate under ten pounds of fabric while runnin’ a fever? Non. Not happenin’.”
You narrowed your eyes at him as he placed a knee on the bed in order to lean over you and tug your hood up so he could press the damp washcloth against your forehead, batting your hand away without even looking when you shivered and reached up to try and take it off.
He brushed a hand through your damp hair –taking note of the heat still lingering on your skin, but thankfully not as fierce now– and, once he was sure that you wouldn't try and remove the cloth while he wasn't looking, he turned a scrutinizing eye to the mess that was your room.
You blinked against the exhaustion that was threatening to pull you under and watched him raise a brow at the stacks of books you had on your desk, the articles of clothing that were haphazardly strewn about the floor, the half-unzipped duffel bag spilling balled-up socks and toiletries… and the single stuffed animal peeking out from under the bed.
“...I tried to unpack.” You said defensively, frowning as embarrassment flooded you at the state of your room. You had already been in the thick of it –experiencing the peak of the symptoms that came with a head cold– when you got off the jet and, when you went to unpack your things and tidy up a bit after your absence, you only managed to get through maybe a quarter of your bag before you ultimately gave up and crawled into bed to lay down for some much needed rest.
You had ended up sleeping for several hours, which was why you didn't search out Gambit right after getting back in order to reassure your lover that you were alive and well, like you normally did.
“Gambit ain't judging you, cher.” Gambit said softly, sounding fond as he nudged the plush back into view with the toe of his boot before crouching down to grab it. “But dis fella might be. Just look at dem beady lil’ eyes.” Gambit teased with an affectionate grin, wiggling the stuffie at you before laying it on the bed next to you.
You resisted the urge to coo at him when he gave its fuzzy head a few friendly pats before drawing away in favor of checking on the washcloth, which –while still slightly wet– had warmed significantly while it had been in contact with your flushed skin.
“You’re cooler already.” Relief softened his voice and you cracked your bleary eyes open –unsure of when you'd even closed them– when, instead of leaving to the bathroom and running the cloth under the faucet to cool it off again like you had expected him to, you heard the telltale click of Gambit flicking the lamp off before the mattress dipped as he sank down onto the edge of the bed with a soft huff.
He leaned down to deftly untie his boots before swinging his legs up onto the bed and laying down next to you on top of the thin sheet, keeping about an inch of space between the two of you –since he knew that his unnaturally high body temperature wouldn’t help bring your fever down– as he lounged back with one hand behind his head and the other trailing down your arm until he reached your inner wrist.
He pressed two fingers to your pulse, humming in approval and lacing your fingers together after a minute had passed, squeezing gently before drawing your linked hands up to his mouth so he could kiss the back of yours.
You rolled over onto your side to face Gambit –moving carefully so that you wouldn’t accidentally separate your hands– and your eyes began to drift closed, the fatigue that had been dogging your every move since you’d gotten up that morning finally catching up with you now that you were relaxed, fed and comfortable. You hummed softly, already barely hanging onto consciousness as it was, when Gambit set your interlocked hands onto his chest, which vibrated as he spoke.
“One day, cher…” He murmured into the dark room, his voice low enough that you almost missed what he said, his hand lightly squeezing yours before he continued. “One day Gambit will get you to take care of yourself properly.”
You didn’t answer –couldn’t have even if you wanted to– not when you were already pretty much gone, your body lax and your mind blank as your chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. But, before you went completely under, you felt him shift around to face you, his nose brushing against yours in an adorable eskimo kiss that made you internally melt.
Then he spoke again, his smooth Cajun drawl like a lullaby, and the words followed you into your dreams.
“Till then… Gambit don’ mind doing it for both of us.”