Maximum Fancy || Remy and Rogue
As a general rule, Remy did not have a hard time getting the romantic attention of anybody he wanted. Since childhood, he’d never had to struggle to get someone to smile at hime or perhaps dote on him. It wasn’t just because he could be a low-level hypnotist because of his eyes. He prided himself on his natural charm and handsome features. To wink and make someone swoon always satisfied a primal part of him, a part that assured him that yes, he was good-looking and the whole world knew it.
He was used to people liking him. He was used to people trying to get close to him. What Remy was not used to, and would never get used to was someone who scorned him for no reason. Whenever he was around Rogue, she turned her nose up at him. She rolled her eyes at his jokes (not in the good way) and called him Swamp Rat in a tone that was far from endearing. He was always sweet to her and no matter what he did, she scoffed at him. If Remy were a lesser man, he’d get angry and leave her alone. Being Remy LeBeau, he was all the more intrigued. Whatever he wanted, whether it be art, money, or romance, he got. Remy was not used to being told ‘no.’ To see someone as beautiful as Rogue, to want her so badly and be told he couldn’t have her, not just by her own words but by her very mutation that disallowed skin to skin contact, Remy wanted her all the more. He found her endlessly fascinating. She was brash, loud, and honest. He loved it and wanted more. He selfishly wanted it all focused on him.
Finally, finally, he had talked her into a date. Just one to start but he was going to be pulling out all the stops. He had it all lined up to be the most magical night that he could wrangle up on short notice. He’d texted her to meet him at the restaurant in Midtown Manhattan, hoping that the name of the place would give her a hint at exactly how maximum fancy he was prepared to go tonight.
He prepped for the date with a sensation of butterflies that he’d never felt before. He tamed his hair to perfection, donned a perfectly pressed suit with shiny shoes to match, begrudgingly popped in his sclera contacts to cover his red-on-black eyes, and headed out early as to arrive before her to make sure everything was in place.
Remy sat at the table and kept fiddling with the buttons of his white dress shirt. He couldn’t decide whether he should undo two buttons or three. Was three too much? He couldn’t remember if he usually showed so much of his collar. He didn’t want her to think he was being sleazy. Remy did up the button again and patted at his shirt only to pull at it a moment later. He was sure he was being paranoid to think that his shirt was choking him. He looked down to make sure the buttons were aligned— they were. Maybe he should have worn a tie. That would have solved his dilemma before it had even started. But Remy didn’t like ties because they were too formal. This was not prom.
He huffed quietly to himself and decided to just keep his buttons as they were and glanced, not for the first time, at the entrance to see if Rogue had arrived.
