Hey guys. A quick snippet that is actually just a scrapped bit off a one-shot I'm working on right now. It's maybe not the greatest thing I've written, but it's cute and sweet, and I absolutely refuse to throw it away. I haven't decided yet if this is a stand-alone thing, or a previous-chapter thing to that upcoming one-shot, so for now, I'm leaving it open. If I do decide that it's all the same fic, the rating will change to M, since the next part is pure smut;)

Also, this contains a couple of hcs of mine: 1) Rogue, not being able to touch for the longest, is extremely sensitive to whatever she can touch. No cheap, scratchy fabrics for her, nor cheap/shitty skin care products. She likes to indulge from time to time! 2) Remy loves to completely wreck those girly moments. Not to be horse's ass, but... seriously, luxury skin care feels and smells incredible. And the man hasn't been able to touch her skin to skin for very long. You think he's passing that up? lmao.

"Mmmmmm, now that feels good..."

Remy perks up at the sound of his wife's purr coming from their bedroom, and immediately changes direction from the kitchen toward the hallway, unceremoniously dumping his school shit on the turn, and already dropping his singed jacket to the floor and kicking off his shoes along the way. He knows that sound, it's the one his Anna-Marie makes when she's rubbing one out, and he wants in on that action.

It isn't like he couldn't do with a good, hard, thorough night wrapped up in that woman's arms and legs, anyway. It's a Friday night to a long-ass week.

Well, more accurately, a long ass several months, just one stupid thing after another. If it wasn't a mutant hating bigot setting something on fire, or his wife's obnoxious ex on a war-path and raining genocide on normal folks, or her fucked up mama threatening to break up their marriage, or his long-time creepy pal, Sinister, popping up with an army of someone's weird-ass clones, it was some kid or another cropping up a power in his classes. The last is almost always a dramatic event in and of itself, and today had been no exception, the poor kid looking like he'd spontaneously combusted in his chair.

Thankfully, no actual spontaneous combustion had taken place, the kid had merely teleported off to point unknown, but unfortunately for him (and everyone around him), he 'bamfs' explosively, and apparently literally out of his skin.

Thank fuck the poor thing has a helluva healing factor to go with that power.

Remy shivers. Mutanthood really isn't so kind to some. And there seems to be more and more mutants popping up lately, at earlier and earlier ages, with increasingly powerful abilities. Which isn't a bad thing, all things considered, except that he's getting a bit tired of trying not to die while teaching Sex Ed.

At least he hasn't had it as bad as Anna of late. On top of everything else, she's been in Frost's hands since they put feet back down on Earth after a rather...unconventional...honeymoon in space, trying to work through her mess and get a grip on her power. It'd worked, but not without sending his wife home sore, with a nasty headache, and a sour mood every time.

And Christ, the fights they'd had because of it! Anna would get so frustrated when her mutation didn't cooperate, and reach for the collar, desperate as she was for skin on skin. He'd actually charged the stupid thing to a loud pop during one fight, and she'd wound up in tears over that. He'd kind of wanted to slip to the floor and cry with her, because in a brutally honest moment, he could admit to himself that he was just as desperate and frustrated for that touch as she was. But that pleasure with the collar came with a price, in that it killed her head with migraines, and that it might loosen up any of the hard work she'd put into gaining control.

Not to mention, dangerous, as it weakened her to the level of a normal human. Not a great idea to court that trouble, in his books.

It wasn't like he hadn't known what he was getting into when he'd married her, anyway.

As it happens, all the bullshit had a payout that's been so sweet for her, and him just on principle. She's gone a solid three months now without a slip-up, and it's been easier on her mentally to maintain it now.

To say that quality of life has greatly improved in the LeBeau household would be an understatement. As it is, Remy had been an over the moon, happily married man from the start, and now...

Well, his blessings are so stacked for a change, he can't even begin to count that high, so he doesn't bother.

He strides into bedroom to hear her hum in pleasure again, and his eyes hit the closed bathroom door. He licks his lips, his mind already playing out memories of things she'd do when they couldn't touch, and reminding him of the things he can do now that she can.

Goddamn, he's going to split that girl in half soon as he gets his hands on her!

He hears water sloshing around in the tub, and grins as he silently turns the handle on the door, because hell yes, Anna's already naked and in a bath, which means she's pampering, which means her skin is going to butter-soft and smelling like something he'd really like to sink his teeth into-

"Oh my god, this feels amazing, it actually does deliver on the soothin', like it promised!" Anna-Marie LeBeau coos, rubbing evidently moan-inducing, soothing strokes along her throat and under her chin, "I'm totally buyin' this shit agai- Remy!" She squawks at him, grabbing her knees and hugging them close, "shut the door, sugar, y'all are lettin' out all the warm, and lettin' in all the cold-"

"Oh non, beb, can't have that, now can we?" Remy teases, flashing his teeth at his utterly adorable wife sitting nearly chin-deep in a bath clearly going cold if her chattering teeth are anything to go by, her hair piled up in a frizzy top-knot, and her face covered with one of those sheet mask things she loves, her chin and neck positively dripping with whatever that shit is from the mask. "I ain't about lettin' you get cold, no?" He continues, moving in and shutting the door behind him.

"Remy, what're you doin'?" She asks him suspiciously, and he laughs, because even though he can't actually see her eyes narrowed down to slits at him for that mask, he can feel it.

"Oh, nothin, chere. Jus' thinkin' I might need a bath, is all."

"Remy, no," she replies, somewhat of a note of alarm in her tone, "I'm usin' all new stuff, good stuff, and the good stuff is expensi- Remy!" She gasps and splutters as he joins her in the tub, still in his clothes, and sloshing water out on the floor, and pulls her back to his chest.

"Chere, I don' know what you was complainin' about me openin' the door that half a second for, this water's done gone colder than it is out there." He drops a kiss on the nape of her neck, sliding a hand up to cup a breast, pulling a charge up in the other hand as he swirls the water, heating it up. "Issa good thing I came in, else you'd like to freeze to death in here." He drops a series of open kisses along her shoulder, the soft scents of honeysuckle and creamy vanilla making his mouth water up over her skin.

"Dammit, Remy, why you always do this?" She snips half heartedly, turning a weak as hell frown on him, "you always try me when I'm usin' my nice things, tryin' to relax, and be good to my skin, and-"

"-mmm, sweetheart, I can do good and nice and then some to y' skin, and I promise," he practically eats along the side of her neck, turning her back around, "you be all kinds of relaxed when I'm done-"

"-and I just wanna smell good and feel clean," she fusses, letting him push her head back over his shoulder so he can lick a line up to her chin, "and soak the sore out of my body, and then you- ohhhhh, oh sugar, that-"

"-yeah, that," he agrees through a wicked grin she can't even see, his free hand sliding up between her legs, "you was sayin' what now, chere?"

"Just to let you know, sugar, what I was sayin' earlier is that I just wanted to pamper, relax, be clean, smell good, snuggle up, and pass out."

Remy chuckles down at the persnickety woman dropping drowsy kisses across his chest in between each bitching word meant just to let him know. "Seems to me like you about to do every bit of that, so I don' know what you goin' on about, che—ouw! The fuck?" He half yelps, half laughs as she gives his nipple a sharp little bite.

She licks the teeth marks, kisses them, and lifts herself up just enough to level him a look. "I meant pass out still clean and smellin' nice, and I definitely ain't any of that now."

"All a matter of opinion, Anna-Marie. I think you smell jus' fine."

"Yeah, I notice you didn't mention the lack of clean part," she snorts at him, lower lip already sulking out.

He shrugs and grins unrepentantly up at her. "We can always go for a shower, non?"

"Oh, sure, why not?" She grumps, "might as well, we hit about every surface between here and the tub, I'm sure the shower's feelin' left out."

Remy laughs and pulls her back down, flattening her out over his chest. She loves to act like it pisses her off when he completely ruins one of her good girly nights, but he knows better. She does all that stuff for him as much as herself, and if she really wasn't having him at any point, he'd know. Body language doesn't lie, and his wife wouldn't pull her punches in letting him know it in no uncertain terms, either.

She sure as hell wouldn't have let him nail her in the tub, then again, bent over the countertop after she'd gotten smart with him while attempting to re-start her facial...skin care...whatever session, and yet again, tossed into the bed, where he'd pounced and caged her down in his arms and hips after she'd laughed, squealed, and tried to run from him.

He's absolutely so damn gone on her, loves her. He loves this woman with every squeeze of his stupid heart, and where most folks might be put off by her acting grumbly over shit she's not actually all that upset over, he thinks she's utterly adorable.

He's been called crazy a time or few for that, even by others who love her, too.

Maybe he is a bit crazy.

He doesn't care. He's the happiest he's ever been in his crazy, so he'll take it.

Remy laces fingers through her hair and kisses her forehead, the end of her nose, then her mouth. When she fully relaxes and purrs into that kiss, he pulls back and grins at her. "Since you're lookin' awfully relaxed and ready to pass out—jus' like I promised you earlier, might I add—how about you go ahead and do that, and you an' me get to includin' that shower in our business in the mornin', yeah?"

He watches those stunning eyes sizzle right back up and her brows slam together. "Remy, I swear, you can ruin moments like—"

He just grins wider and smacks her ass, making her squawk at him. "I ain't ruinin' nothing, Anna-Marie, you the one fuckin' up y' beauty routine here—"

"I'm fuckin—Remy, you're the one who interrupted my beauty routine twice—"

"Ain't you the one always insisting that gettin' adequate sleep is part of y' primpin' and pampering thing you do?" He cuts her off with a laugh, "so yeah, you jus' settle down and get your beauty sleep-"

"Shut it, Cajun." She claps her hand across his mouth, a brow arched nearly up into her hairline. When Remy reaches up to press her palm firm against his lips for a kiss, he watches those stunning, grass green eyes melt to liquid, her lids dropping back to drowsy slits.

"You're lucky I love you, swamp rat," she snorts, snuggling back down into his side, popping a loud kiss on his chest. "'Cause I was really enjoyin' that bath you messed up, and that mask, too—" she pauses to yawn, "and I was really lookin' forward to this new serum I got, it's made out snail slime extracts, and then there was that body butter you liked so much last time, that one with sweet orange and palo santo in it—" this time, she yawns so hard, her little nerd-out over skin care shit blurs into loud, adorable yawny noises. "Nummanum," she smacks her lips into his shoulder, "nevermind. Just know y'all got yours comin' later, Cajun."

"I don' doubt you one bit," he chuckles out, lifting his arm just a bit to let her wiggle in even more til she's comfortable, her eyes closed all the while.

And he doesn't doubt her warning in the slightest. His wife has a good little petty streak in her when it suits her. It's just her ideas on retaliation are...unusual...at times. Rarely actually to his detriment, though always at his expense, are her one-ups on him.

Smiling, he leans up to kiss into fluffy, white curls, lingering for a moment. "'Night, Anna-Marie. Sleep sweet," he murmurs, kissing her one more time.

He settles back on his pillow, hand tucked under his head, and turns his face toward her, smile softening as he finally drifts off, too.