Yay! I got this posted in time! Two more chapters to go, and then I'm back nose to the grindstone on She's:)

Many thanks to Ludi for making sure this doesn't look stupid- love ya, lady!

Enjoy:)

"Welcome. I'm privileged to welcome Katherine and Piotr in this most sacred of covenants."

Rogue shifts more comfortably in her seat at the rabbi's words, instinctively moving closer to the man sitting next to her. She won't admit it to a soul, but happy as she is watching the soon-to-be married couple at the altar, she's actually more excited about the fact that she's watching it with him. Remy. Now. With things as they are between them.

She flicks a shy glance over at him. He catches it out the corner of his eye, and a smile quirks up his mouth as he reaches over for her hand, pulling it into his lap.

Positively giddy, is what she is. Which is silly, considering this isn't the first wedding they've attended.

It is the first one they've attended together, though. And with the way things have been this time, some of the things he's said, the way he looks at her sometimes, makes her think, maybe—

She flushes away from that thought (an impossible one, anyway, she has no reason to think anything) and looks back to the ceremony as the rabbi continues. "Their love is very much like their hearts. Strong. Beautiful. And pure of spirit. It's that love that has sustained them and returned them to each other's arms..."

She smiles at those words, and feels her heart flutter to pieces all over again, because Lord help her, that sounds so much like her and Remy—!

And if Kitty and Piotr's relationship mirrors theirs in so many ways, and they're here now, literally about to ride off into the sunset?

Maybe she and Remy really can make it, too, right?

She bites her lip in a smile and her heart kicks up at least ten notches as Remy's fingers tighten in hers, his thumb rubbing along her knuckles.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter...

"I'm pleased to say," the rabbi goes on, the humor in her tone pulling Rogue's head back out of the clouds, "that Mr. Wagner does have the rings..."

The crowd titters and Rogue chuckles as Kurt pops a brow and grins good-naturedly as he hands over the rings.

"Katherine, please place the ring on a Piotr's finger, and repeat after me. I will love and cherish you for all my days."

Rogue watches Kitty slip the ring on as told, repeating her vows, and she feels her eyes watering up. Weddings always do that to her, turn her into a watering pot, and honestly, those two really do deserve the best, and then there's the fact that they parallel her and Remy so much—

Remy brings the back of her hand up for a kiss, holding it there for a moment as he squeezes her fingers, then drops to his lap.

Rogue curls her fingers around his, smiling even harder as she keeps wet eyes on Kitty and Piotr. Because if she looks over at him, she really will cry.

Really, between the events of late, and Remy saying things like he had last night, at the rehearsal party, about how the wedding was making him think things, too, who can blame her for being a tad emotional right now?

"Piotr, please place the ring on Kitty's finger, and repeat after me," the rabbi continues, and Piotr takes Kitty's hand, ring ready, already saying his vows—

The next instant has the guests gasping, Remy softly hissing "ohhhhh, fuck," and Rogue utterly stunned.

Speechless. Voice, breath, heartbeat, all of it stuck in her throat, gaping at the frozen ceremony.

Kitty stands rooted to her spot, eyes wide and staring at her hand still phased through Piotr's, looking for the world like she can't believe what had just happened anymoreso than anyone else. Then she pulls back, drops her face in her hands and phases through the ground, leaving only her veil and her jilted groom behind.

Rogue swallows tears down while looking to Piotr as he woodenly picks up the veil, clenches it in his hands, and asks Kurt to get him gone.

Lord have mercy, the look on that poor man's face...

She looks over at Remy and pulls his hand to her lap, clapping her other hand on top and squeezing, remembering the same sort of stiffness she'd put in him so many times.

"Christ...did what I think happened really jus' happen?" Remy breathes out, turning stunned, shadowed eyes at her.

Rogue's eyes flood and she flattens her lips, simultaneously stifling a blotchy-faced cry and the urge to climb all over his lap and kiss the snot out of him, because a couple of those times, she'd left him...

Instead, she slumps a little, looks back to the cloud of smoke and fluttering veil and petals where Kurt and Piotr had just stood, and slowly nods, clenching his hand tighter. So much for sunsets...

"Yeah, sugar, it just did."

A while later, in the reception tent...

Remy shifts back in his seat and stretches out a leg, eyes sweeping across the quiet, uncomfortable crowd before settling back at the bar.

Anna's there, talking to a stricken Illyana. He has a little of an idea why the young blonde is so slouched with guilt, that girl's been uncharacteristically subdued since last night, and Kitty had been the same. And honestly, with the feel coming off Kitty over the last couple of days, it wouldn't have taken much out of Illyana to send her into a tailspin.

Of course, he hadn't payed them much of a mind, as in his own head over Anna as he'd been all evening. And well after, while she'd been a sprawled out, drooling heap in the sheets across his chest, his head spinning one way while his eyes had spun the other from their second round and yet another little absorption.

The corner of his mouth pops up at the memory. He'd ended last night a bit tipsy, and hadn't been as careful as usual, both alcohol and heart making him sloppy. She hadn't been much better, only giggling and shoving him over on his back after the second time she'd zapped his fingers. Or maybe it'd been his mouth that time, he can't remember. Either way, love turns him into an idiot, drink certainly doesn't make him smarter, because she'd gotten him a couple more times after that, and he's damned lucky she hadn't plucked up anything serious.

Or maybe she had. Because Christ above him, she'd been so damn soft during the ceremony, riddled with a shy, maybe hopeful excitement, and it'd only reinforced where his thoughts have headed of late, and then...

Then, Kitty had left Piotr cold at the altar. Let his hand and the ring phase right through her, and then she'd dropped clean through the ground. And Anna, she was...

Well, he's not entirely certain what was on her mind. She'd been too keyed up, and has too many psyches guesting in her head, churning her emotions into a whip he couldn't quite get a catch on. She's been a whirlwind since, and he's long learned that that could turn her for the worse.

He shakes his head, eyes closing, then flicking back open at Anna again. "I seen that shit go down, an' I still don't believe it."

"Ja, most unexpected," Kurt murmurs next to him, his expression sympathetic toward the former bride and groom moving about the tent to speak with everyone. "And heartbreaking."

Remy nods, though he supposes it maybe wasn't so unexpected. Kitty had been looking some kind of way the whole lead-up to the wedding, and it hadn't been the happy look of a blushing bride about to get hitched.

"Yes, and perhaps fortunate," Stormy adds evenly, though not unkindly.

Remy throws her a sharp look. "Not sure y' using that word right, Stormy. I doubt Pete's seein' it that way at all, no?"

Christ, if Rogue ever did the like to him, he sure as shit wouldn't see it that way, fortunate.

Though technically, Rogue's already done that a few times. Gotten scared, unsure, shoved him away, ditched him, ran off...

He knows if it happens again, that's it. This is their last shot. They won't come back from more of the same-old, same-old. And fuck him anyway, he wants, but not at the risk of messing it up, going too fast, because what he's thinking is maybe too fast, they're still new, he could easily stand to wait it out, or even leave things alone.

Hell, it's not like they hadn't just watched a parallel turn out horribly bad after an impulsive rush or anyth—

"I simply mean if things aren't meant to work out between Kitty and Peter, it is better they realize it tonight, rather than years from now."

Remy stops at his friend's words, feeling like a shift that's just...sort of...clicking into place.

It is better they realize it tonight...

Better to know now, than say, one, two, three years down the road—

"Marriage is hard," she continues, "it requires a need, a hunger..."

—and holy shit, he wants her, lock, stock, and barrel, any way he can get her, wants it so bad, his stupid teeth hurt-

"...a feeling like you'd rather not go on living than spend a day apart."

"Right," he mutters, staring down at his hands, his mind going back to how things were going into Paraiso, with her being right there, yet still without her. Loving her anyway with every ounce of his soul, every pull of his breath, every thud in his chest. He remembers the worse times from earlier still, when he hadn't even had that, her being around, when they weren't even really speaking, not even friends. How it'd felt like heartbreak all over again anytime he'd been reminded of her, and the loss of everything between them.

He digs into the good times, too, how hyper-aware of her presence in a room he'd been (still is), the way his pulse had jumped and raced when they'd met eyes across the distance (still does). The real moments, when they'd sat on the roof, sometimes in complete silence, other times in light hearted flirtation, and still others where they'd taken turns cracking each other open, bit by reluctant, angsty bit, and had gone back inside just a bit more connected (still do). The up-times, too, when they had tried, and it'd been so good, so fucking good, it can still make his toes curl up and his insides fire up sweet to recall how he'd felt with her all those times (still does).

Feeling like you'd rather not go on living than spend a day apart...

"You're absolutely right," he says again, his heart crashing into his ribs, his breath snatched tight in his chest, that all-too-familiar thrill in a high stakes, all or nothing play swelling up in him.

"Mein freund?"

Remy looks at Kurt and flashes his teeth. "It ain't a thing', mon ami." He stands, straightens his tie, eyes already back on his Anna-Marie, feet already headed where his heart has been since the day he'd met her, a head rush chased by a wave of calm flooding him toe to tip all the while. "Jus' that Stormy's absolutely right, as per usual. I'd rather not go on livin' than spend another day apart from her."

Meanwhile...

"No, Rogue, you don't get it. This is all my fault."

Rogue pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in soft sigh as she squeezes Illyana's shoulder. "Shug, look. Whatever it is you said that you think is so dang bad, this ain't your fault. And while it hurts, it ain't a wrong thing that happened. Better than followin' through when you got questions and doubts, huh?"

The other woman shrugs, sips off her drink, and turns to Rogue with a weak smile. "You would know a thing or two about that, wouldn't you?" She waves off before Rogue can fire back in reply. "Is not important. You and Remy, you are past that, yes? You are good?" She nods to herself and continues, "thank all of your blessings for that. I am happy for you."

Rogue blinks away sudden tears at the younger woman's words. Because yes, absolutely yes, she knows all too well what it's like to try time and again without answering the questions and shying away from the doubts like they don't exist. It'd lead to nothing but broken hearts on both her end, and Remy's.

Thank her blessings, indeed!

And...as selfish as it is, thank everything that Kitty had seen fit to send her and Remy for couples' therapy in Paraiso instead of going herself with Piotr. Otherwise, today might be a very different day, indeed, and likely not one tilted in Rogue's favor.

Illyana leans over, a smirk on her mouth. "And in my experience, when you speak of devils, they almost always arrive." She flicks a look over her shoulder and moves away.

Rogue turns, a wide smile ready, because who else could Illyana have been talking about if not Remy, and honestly, she could use a good minute alone with him, in fact, she's thinking a drag off to the closest private spot would be nice, a little bit of spoiling her Cajun—

The look on his face as he approaches, eyes burning, his features set intense, it crashes her train of thought and steals her breath clean out of her lungs.

God help her, he's stunning.

Not just in looks, but in...well...everything. And when he's like this, looking at her like she's the only thing he sees, the only thing he wants...

Well. He always has been one to swoon over.

"Remy?" She calls softly, reaching out for him, "you okay?"

He turns up a little lopsided smile as he grasps her hand and gently pulls away from the bar. "Well now, that depends, chere."

Her brows pinch a little in confusion, but she follows him out on the floor. "Depends on what, sug— wait..what? What are you—? Oh my god," she breathes as he swiftly drops to one knee, still holding her hand, those beautiful eyes blazing.

"What's it look like, beb?" He asks, his deep, rich accent like a long, sweet lick up her spine.

"Oh my god," she breathes again, the room, the people in it, and all the noises fading to nothing but him...because he's...he's...is he doing what she thinks he's doing—yes, yes, yes, he is...he's on his knee—"Remy, are you—? This...this is crazy!"

"Mmm-hm, you met me yet?"

She gasps out a short, breathless laugh, her heart going ninety to nothing, and she's feeling just a bit light-headed, and—

"But what ain't crazy, Anna-Marie, is we got all our friends right here, someone to marry us, and a wedding canopy right over there."

—and...and...this is all so fast...and she wants, wants so bad, but what about hurt feelings, Kitty and Piotr—

"He's right, you know," an amused voice cuts, and Rogue turns dazed eyes to find the former bride and groom approaching.

"Don't let this evening go to waste," Kitty continues, a warm, genuine smile on her face.

Rogue looks back to Remy with a fast smile on her face. "Are y-you sure, Kitts?" She stutters out softly, eyes never leaving Remy's, "I mean, I want—" she flushes, her mouth not cooperating around words, and—

"Pfft!" Kitty replies, and Rogue can swear she hears her rolls her eyes. "Go on. Don't mind us. We're fine."

Rogue stares down at Remy, the world simultaneously feeling like it has stopped and is spinning too fast, her heart thundering in her ears, and bless him, he's still and even, his heart plastered all over his face, fire-bright in his eyes...

It hits her. This is real. This is him, and this is her, and this is it.

A small, giddy laugh bubbles up out of her mouth, her vision blurs wet, and it's only then she realizes that's she's smiling so hard, her cheeks are screaming. "I can't believe you're doin' this," she squeaks out, and gasps on another laugh, "but I couldn't be happier for it."

His eyes flare up and he squeezes her fingers, runs his thumb over her knuckles, and she can't help it, she goes down on his level, because she has to kiss him, just once, or twice, maybe ten times...

"Chere, what're you doin'?" He laughs low and soft against a rain of split-second kisses across his mouth.

"What's it look like I'm doin', Cajun?" She asks, nipping at his lower lip, "I'm sayin' yes!"

A short while later...

"Never thought I would see the day, Remy."

Remy snorts at Stormy's knowing smile as she fixes his tie and straightens his appearance in general. "That so, padnat? Y' mean to tell me you didn't have this shit called from day one?"

"Remy! Be still," Laura hisses at him from behind, deftly running her claws through his hair for a trim. He hadn't particularly wanted a haircut, but when one has her majesties Ororo Munroe and Laura McKinney insisting...

Like he'd ever tell those two no. They can do as they will with him.

Stormy's grin broadens and she cups his cheek. "I told you no such thing, my friend." Her thumb swipes gently over his cheekbone. "I quite literally meant I didn't think I'd see it, the day you married so big. I'd have thought the two of you would go to the courthouse rather than do this," she adds with a graceful sweep of her other hand toward the canopy.

"Heh, me neither," Remy concedes. He'd already done the big wedding once, and that'd been about a nightmare and a half. He'd never wanted to do that mess again.

Of course, him figuring on remarrying had only been a recent thing, too. And even then, he hadn't planned on doing it this soon.

"Hmmm," Stormy hums at him, adjusting his scarf one last time.

He pauses a moment, lets her fuss over him a bit more, then asks, "stand up there wit' me, eh, Stormy?"

"I'd like to see someone try stopping me," she replies evenly, patting his shoulders. "All done. Just needs a little something-"

"How's this?" Gabby appears seemingly from no where, her little face split with the widest of smiles as she holds a single, pink rose boutonnière.

"Perfect, Gabby, thank you," Stormy murmurs indulgently, plucking the flower from the girl's hand and pinning it to Remy's lapel.

"Hmmm, we done yet?" Remy asks impatiently, looking out at the crowd to see if he can spot Anna anywhere. He's not sure where she'd gone, it'd been a hell of a whirlwind after she'd said yes, with Bobby and Kurt popping up to bamf her off for parts unknown while Stormy and Laura whisked him off to the side to 'fix him up'.

He needs all the damn fixing in the world, but none of it's a thing his friends can do anything about. And for some damn reason or another, Anna still wants to marry his sorry ass, and he still can't quite believe it-

"Ouw! Goddammit," he yelps, reaching for the back of his head as the sharp edges of Laura's claws graze his scalp.

"Would you quit squirming?" Laura snaps at him again, slapping his hand away to examine the scratch, "I've never seen you this anxious before," she continues in a softer tone, "if you'd like, I can stab you, give you something else to focus on? Especially since you seem bent on-"

"Non, 'tite chere," Remy cuts her off, "think I'll pass on that one. But since you takin' such good care of this ol' boy, maybe you stand up there wit' me, too?"

She nods solemnly and sheaths her claws, her green eyes twinkling despite her perpetually serious expression. "Like begets like, Remy LeBeau. You've seen to me, so it's only fair I do the same for you?"

Remy grins at her and reaches out to pull her in a hug. She snorts up at him, circles his waist in a brief, tight squeeze, then pushes back with a lifted brow and one last critical glance at the back of his head.

"Gambit?"

Remy looks over the other direction to see Bling walking up with Bishop, her face lit up with not at all suppressed excitement.

"So, I had this idea," she runs on, "I mean, I'm assuming you guys don't have rings, and I was just thinking that maybe I could help with that?"

Remy grins down at the girl's hopeful expression, because holy shit, it's all coming together, and this really is happening... "That'd be absolutely perfect, chere, absolutely perfect."

Meanwhile...

Rogue stands in the middle of her room, alone, pulling in deep breaths, trying to get a real grasp on the fact that something she'd never thought she'd have is happening.

Right now.

She's getting married.

To him. Remy LeBeau.

The thought shivers up another giggle out her throat, and she quickly shakes out her trembling hands.

He's down there somewhere with Ro and Laura, getting a spit-shine, while she's up here, about to fidget out of her skin, waiting on Bobby and Kurt to return.

That two men had thought to go find all the wedding somethings blue, new, old, and borrowed for her, and on such short notice, almost makes her tear up again.

"Ah, shit, can't have that," she laughs at herself, shaking her head. That'll run her mascara, because she's the moron who had passed on the waterproof stuff for less clumpy lashes.

Pulling in a deep breath through her nose, Rogue smooths down her dress, and laughs again. Back when she was young, she'd always thought she'd go all traditional if she did get hitched, and wear white, and maybe marry up with an equally traditional, handsome, all-American blonde, someone like Cody. As she'd gotten older, she'd imagined a romantic elopement with a more worldly, sophisticated version of that man, and maybe wear a pale yellow, or a soft gold instead of white.

She'd gotten a bit older, and wrote herself out that future entirely, not even seeing the point in entertaining the notion.

And look at her now.

An unexpected bride at someone else's wedding, hitching up with an utterly mouthwatering, devil-eyed, back-woods Cajun rat, wearing green, her dang fighting color.

It's nothing at all what she'd ever day-dreamed up, and somehow, it's absolutely perfe—

"Hey, Rogue, I got you a lil' sump-sump," Bobby cheerfully barges in and startles her out of her thoughts.

Rogue nods quickly, tears threatening again. "Whatcha got, shug?"

"Something old, borrowed, and blue, all in one," he practically crows, boyish good looks lit up with sparking blue eyes and a brilliant grin. "Efficiency at its finest, Annie, courtesy of one Elizabeth Braddock," he adds with a flourish of his hand, revealing a pair of gold antique chandelier earrings set with fat, twinkling aquamarines.

"I don't think efficiency belongs in the somethings' tradition, but good lord, these are gorgeous," she murmurs, eyeing up the earrings. "I swear it, though, you call me Annie again, Booby, and I'll—"

"—oh god...Jesus Christ—" Bobby cuts her off in loud protest as the stench of whatever dimension Kurt rips through to get anywhere bamfs throughout the room.

"Anna-Marie, I have a something borrowed for you," Kurt announces dead center within the curling rotten-egg-farts smell, holding out a handful of balled up tulle.

Rogue takes the crushed material, straightening it out to reveal Kitty's now-stinky veil. "Awwww, Kurt, it's—"

"—I know it is Kitty's veil," Kurt rushes at the same time, his expression a bit apologetic, "but I—"

"No, no, Kurt, it's beautiful, thank you," Rogue insists, dashing at her eyes again, because dammit, she's absolutely ridiculous, how much she's crying right now... "Besides, seems fittin', seeing as how Kitts' had so much hand in what all's happening today."

"Ja, so it does!" Kurt's face splits ear to ear in relief, and Rogue grabs him in a hug and squeezes tight.

"Best older brother a gal could ask for, shug," she sniffs and kisses his furry cheek.

"Hey! You were supposed to get her something new," Bobby cuts in with dramatic mock outrage, "seriously, little blue dude, you were assigned new. Good thing I got you covered with my efficiency," a look thrown at Rogue, "'cause it could be argued that the earrings are something new, too, 'cause new to you, so I should be getting the hugs, 'cause I did my thing, your thing, and then some, and therefore am the best brother here, so if you could just stay in your lane—"

"Oh, quit whinin', Bobert," Rogue snorts, rolls her eyes, and damn near snatches him off his feet into a group hug. "Both y'all the very best. Wouldn't have asked you to be bridesmen if you weren't."

"Yeah, yeah, good save, Hannah. And quit your crying, your face is melting off," Bobby shoots back, smacks a fast kiss on the side of her head, then holds up the earrings. "We're supposed to be fixing you up, so why don't we get on that?"

Rogue fidgets only a little as Bobby fumbles around a bit putting on the jewelry "like a good bridesmaid should," he'd insisted while slapping her hands away when she'd reached for them to do it herself.

Kurt, bless his heart, picks up the veil and puts it her hair, cursing a streak bluer than his hide when he slides it in lopsided and loosens a few of her more stubborn cow-licked curls from her up-do in the process.

"No, no, it's fine, it's fine," Bobby promises, pulling her out of Kurt's clumsy reach and in front of a mirror. "Just...leave it alone. Stop. Touching!"

Rogue stops messing with the veil and stares at herself. Bobby hadn't fibbed, her hair looks good, a little more worn-in, but not the disaster she'd feared. In fact...

She looks good.

Like a bride.

She certainly feels like one, like the surreality is finally sticking to her like reality.

With the veil in place, the earrings dangling near to her shoulders, her bridesmen fussing over her, fluffing this and that, and—

"Hi-ho, hi-ho! She's a bride, she's not a hoe!"

Rogue startles at the loud, obnoxiously off-key singing to find herself swept up and waltzing around the room by none other than Wade Wilson.

"Hi, Anna-banana," he grins wide, "look at you, all grown up and getting married...without me? My feelings—"

Rogue giggles— giggles! —and stops them. "Well, shug, I didn't exactly have time to send out invitations—"

"This is his fault, isn't it? Remy made sure I wasn't on the guest list, didn't he? After all those times I saved his sorry life? Rude."

"Um, does accepting bribes to not kill him count as saving his life?" Bobby is heard loudly asking Kurt.

"It doesn't," Rogue cuts in with a meaningful look at Wade. It still nettles her that he keeps accepting hits on Remy and then coolly charges him three times the price of the contract to not kill him.

Of course, there is the fact that in doing so, he actually is saving her man's life, but that's beside the point. Remy paying off the jackass into the millions is unnecessary, in her opinion.

Wade shrugs. "Fine. But this will." He peels off one of her gloves, and is already reaching for the other—

"Hey! I don't even begin to think so!" She squawks at him, snatching her glove out of his hand. "Knockin' my husband out cold before I can even marry him ain't exactly savin' him—"

Wade rolls his eyes and pulls at the fingertips of her glove and sliding it right back off. "I got you covered, Roguey-roo. Don't we, Kurt?"

Rogue throws her brother a questioning look just as he asks, "we do?"

Wade sighs dramatically. "Come on, Kurt, you're a bridesman. You're supposed to be on top of these things, so keep up. One job, I swear..." he mutters, reaching into his pocket. "Ta-dah! I got you something new, my lil' Southern belle."

Rogue's eyes are already snagged on the slim, pale gold collar in his hands, frozen still as a statue.

"Uh, Wade, I think you missed your mark here—"

"Shush, ice, ice baby," Wade interrupts, holding the nullifier up to Rogue. "Look, I know you don't have good memories of these, but...those were the old ugly ones, and this one of the newer, prettier ones." He points to a tiny, nearly invisible clasp. "See this? It works differently, it's easy to take off, and this way you and Remy could...you know..." He trails off, making the universal crude gesture for sex with his fingers, adding in a dramatic whisper everyone in the room hears, "bareback."

Rogue snorts at him, then takes the choker, traces a fingertip along the minimalistic design as it narrows into a sleek, subtle clasping mechanism in the back. A light press, and it unlocks easily as promised.

Rogue sucks in her lips and slowly rolls them back out. Wade's right, in that she has no fond memories of power suppression devices, though he doesn't know the full extent of why.

Remy does. He'd known before she'd told him, and he'd likely punch anyone else in the nose if they'd suggested she wear one for him.

Actually, no, he'd definitely punch Wade. He wouldn't even need much of a reason, either.

"Look at it this way. It's gold like the earrings, and going with that green dress— god, only you would get married in green, we really need to talk about this obsession yours, you know I look terrible next to fucking green, and that's not going to make me look all that pretty walking you down the aisle, but hey, you know what, that works, keeps me from upstaging the bride, I see what you did here, you clever minx —it's almost like you're wearing that hot as fuck green and yellow get-up he fapped to for years. What?" He turns at Kurt's groan, "you know he did. I know he did. I know I did."

"Wade—"

"And it's also something new, in that it's a new beginning. Clean slate. You bust down and forget all the bad you know these things for, and go create new ones with me. I mean Remy. What? I did. I meant Remy. Slip of the tongue, I promise. Though I wouldn't mind slipping—"

"Wade, I swear," Rogue huffs at him, then looks back at the collar.

New beginnings... new memories... bust down all the bad, and forget about it...

She feels her chin start wobbling and the tears spring up again, because that's been her and Remy every second of every day since they'd rekindled and caught like wildfire in Paraiso.

"Of course, if you want to be difficult, and not fuck your new husband naked, I can't really blame you. I have an alternate something new," he pulls out an unopened condom packet, "that'll save his life."

Rogue gasps out a laugh, tears streaming her mascara. "I hate you, Wade," she sniffles, dabbing at her eyes, "you ruined my make-up. Now, out—"

"Oooh, I can fix that. And you really should've used waterproof mascara. I have this stuff called Better Than Sex, and it's waterproof—"

"I ain't gonna ask why it is you're cartin' around a tube of waterproof Better Than Sex mascara—"

"Neither will we—"

"Nu-uh, nope. No questions—"

"God, you little piss ants act like no other man ever has worn mascara. Your precious Bras Pitts and Ryan Reynolds of the world wear that shit all the time for a living—"

"Wade, shut up for one cotton pickin' minute, huh?" Rogue yells over the noise, tears completely forgotten for irritation, because dammit, she has work to do, her stupid face is running, as Bobby had so indelicately commented on before, and—

"So what's it gonna be, Miss Ma'am? Nakey-nakey sexy fun time with the new collar, or prudy-prudy covered up not fun sex with a new condom? I can tell you which he would prefer—"

"Oh my god, I'm tryin' to kick y'all out, 'cause yes, I'm wearin' the collar, which makes somethings old, new, and borrowed, and I got this real pretty, lacy pair of blue panties I'm gonna wear for tonight, so unless y'all wanna see that—"

"Okay, boys, lets go," Kurt quickly chimes in, and before Wade can make a peep, he grabs hands and teleports out.

Rogue wastes no time, mad-dashing for her panty drawer. A quick change of underwear, a few more minutes spent fixing her eyes, and she's done, standing in front of the mirror, gloves off, her elegant up-do now a little messy and with a crooked-set, crimped all to hell, stinky veil, wearing green and gold, clad in all the somethings her best friends had so thoughtfully scrambled up just for her, so she could marry that blasted Cajun last second at a jilted wedding...

She starts smiling and doesn't stop til her face is split in half and every muscle in her face is aching, and then she laughs, because even though this isn't a thing like how she'd ever have done it planned, she thinks this, as it is, done on impulse and far from perfect, is...

Well...

Perfect, actually.

Remy stands at the alter, Stormy just to his left, calm and serene as always, and Laura next to her, preternaturally still, waiting on his Anna (as per usual), and ruthlessly squelches down the urge to fidget. He's always had the itch to move, especially when running on pure nerves, and it'd taken some brutal lessons and channeling techniques back in the day to train it out of him. He falls back on that discipline now, schooling himself still but for hands clasped in front of him, fingers worrying the rings.

The rings, solid rock, both of them, and surprisingly light weight. Bling had spared no skill or talent in creating them, and he'd spared no thought or imagination in describing what he'd wanted. A smart, sleek, black band with a small gypsy set diamond for him, and a nearly three carat cushion-cut diamond wrought up from a delicate, sparkly band for her.

He smiles a bit, fingering the stones, hoping like all hell she likes hers. He'd toyed with the idea before of gauging her tastes first, when he'd figured on having time to do little things like that, but with tonight being so spur of the moment...

At least he'd had the foresight to note her ring size, so there's that going for him.

He feels another urge to fidget and wiggles his toes in his shoes instead. He was calm when he'd proposed, but now...

He hopes his impulsive ass hasn't just cheated her out her dream wedding or some shit.

Actually, he's hoping like all hell, about to start praying to every known god out there, that she hadn't pulled a Kitty and gotten cold feet on him, because goddamn, where is she—

"Remy," Laura whispers at him, "she'll be here." She taps the side of her nose. "I can smell her perfume. Orange blossoms. She's coming."

Remy flashes her a smile, eyes already trained up the aisle, and sure enough, the music starts up.

He sucks in a breath he can't quite let go of, curling his hand around the rings, excitement racing through him from tip to toe and back again. First, Bobby comes around the back of the crowd, beaming, a bouquet in hand, and clearly the maid of honor (Remy can't help smiling at that, because Anna would choose men for her party), followed by Kurt, who flashes him a fangy smile on his way opposite Laura.

A shift in music and a collection of oohs and ahhhs going to gasps and laughs turns him back to the aisle, and he looks back to see her walking down the aisle—

With Wade Wilson?

His breath bursts out in a short, low laugh, nerves settling with humor as Wade prances like he's the fucking bride himself, tripping on Anna's dress in the process. She yanks her dress out from under his foot, hissing at him all the while. Righting herself and her escort, she looks up to Remy's eyes, her face splitting into an absolutely mind-numbing smile, and for Remy, the world dims off but for the woman meeting him at the end of the aisle.

Dieu, she's beautiful. Not just that, but extraordinary, one in a million. Amazing. Hard-headed, strong, smart-mouthed, temperamental, and the absolute best he's ever had of anyone he's ever known, any way he's ever had them.

And by some insane stroke of good grace and luck, about to be his wife.

She steps up, and Wade hands her off with a yelled whisper, "thank me for the collar later, coon-ass," at which Anna sharply elbows him in the ribs and spits at him to go sit down.

Remy takes her hands, pulls her in closer, eyes flicking from the nullifier up to brilliant, sun-shot eyes. "A collar, chere?"

She flushes and shrugs. "Figured maybe I'd like to kiss the groom after this is all said and done, and I'd rather not knock ya out flat on the ground when I do it, either."

He stares at her, this incredible woman before him, his fiancé of less than an hour, standing up here to marry him in a collar just so he can kiss her...

He knows why she hates the damn things. He'd taken that particular trip down her memory lane with Xavier, had seen Genosha, had helplessly watched, felt what had happened to her there. He'd never once asked her to wear a collar for him, and seeing that bullshit had instantly and savagely squelched any consideration he'd had on that score.

And yet, here she is, wearing one...

His breath gets lodged in his throat again, because fuck him, she's knocked him off his feet yet again tonight, and honestly, he isn't sure how the hell he's managed it, but he's pretty certain he loves her just a bit more now than he had a moment ago.

"Well, this is certainly one of the most unconventional weddings I've participated in," the rabbi begins with a lopsided smile, "you said the two of you had vows you'd like to exchange?"

Vows? Nah, vows are promises, and Remy's never been too good at keeping those. If he doesn't make one, he can't break it, and he's not in it to break even one more to her.

Remy squeezes Anna's fingers and smiles at her, eyes burning and forgetting rest of the world to zero in on her. "For me, it ain't so much a vow as it is an affirmation," he begins, gathering her hands in a firmer clasp as he continues, "I love you wit' every piece of me, Anna-Marie. I ain't always been a good man, chere. But you and me, we've been through hell and back, and it's changed me. You changed me. You saw in me the man I hope I am. And that's what I'm gonna be, that man who's always worthy of your love and respect."

He watches those impossible eyes glitter up with tears as he slips the ring on her finger, and hands her his for her turn. She sniffles loudly, earning several d'awwwwws from their guests and a few laughs, too.

"Remy," she starts out, her voice only a tad thick, "we've been through so much, you and I. We faced so many challenges, so many moments other couples just wouldn't ever be able to come back from." She sniffs again, pausing to regain her composure, "but we always keep findin' ways back to each other. And that's what I promise you..." her voice wobbles and cracks, tears finally spilling down her blotching cheeks as she slides him his ring and smiles up at him, "that no matter what, I'll always find my way back to you, Remy LeBeau."

"Beautiful," the rabbi happily declares, and she starts saying something else, but honestly, Remy's focus sharpens back in on Anna-Marie, tuning everything else down to only half an ear, and—"introduce Anna-Marie and Remy LeBeau as husband and wife!"

Snapped back out, Remy smiles at his wife— holy shit, she's his wife! —and leans in, cups her face in one hand, laces fingers of the other through hers, and pulls her in flush to his front as he kisses her. Kisses her slow, deep, and sweet, his eyes closing, his—

"Well, I'd say kiss the bride, but I'd also say that it's unnecessary," the rabbi teases, and the guests laugh and start clapping.

"Awwww, look! He popped his foot! God, how romantic is that," Jubilee can be heard gushing from the seats. "And I told every one of you, by the way, called this years ago..."

Anna giggles against his mouth, and he nips at her lips as they break away. "You totally popped your foot, sugar." She reaches back up for another kiss, making his head spin a little harder. His wife... "Such a romantic," she murmurs over his lower lip, "you went and popped your foot in a kiss you couldn't even wait on the go-ahead to give."

He snorts and gives her a solid lipsmack to the bridge of her nose. "Been waitin' my whole damn life for that kiss, and I didn't even know it til today. The hell makes y' think I be waitin' on anymore of 'em, chere?"