Gambit

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"Gambit," You say, once the phone is picked up on the other end.
"Y/N!" Gambit's voice crackles over the phone. Then his tone turns concerned. "What's wrong, ma chere?"
"Pick me up, please?" You say quietly. Your voice shook a little.
There's a concerned cluck, and he hangs up. He shows up a few minutes later. You realize you hadn't given him an address, but he showed up anyway. He takes in your disheveled state, and helps you into the shotgun seat before going back around to the driver's seat. He then reaches over and buckles your seatbelt.
"I'm not a kid anymore, Gambit," You say.
"I'm a mutant, I still buckle up," He says. "And I don't want you to get hurt anymore, cherie. "
After a few minutes, he turns into a drive through Starbucks, and as you're waiting for you order, you ask. "Is it really that obvious?"
"You call me to pick you up at some strange place in the morning and you look like you're going to cry any second," He keeps his voice a peaceful lull. "I take last night wasn't too good?" He parks in the parking lot, and hands you the croissant.
"It's cold," You notice, and for that ridiculous reason you start to cry.
Gambit wraps an arm around you and awkwardly hugs you from his seat, but it was the best feeling in the world for you right now. He even smells like home. After awhile, when you sniffle and stop, he asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"
You sigh. "There was this guy. And everyone else was getting some action, and I guess I was still hung up over, you know. I pretty much let them talk me into a drink with him. He seemed nice and funny, but then we went back to his place, and he started taking off his clothes and I wasn't expecting that. I didn't want to look like an idiot, so I did it and now I feel really bad because he was a douche bag and I said yes. And-" You heave a little sigh and sob. "But whatever, it happened."
Gambit kisses the top of your head. "Everyone has those moments, cherie, but if you want me to..." The coffee cup in his hands began to glow purple, and he laughs softly, but it settles once you shake your head. "But you're not that kind of person."
You sigh. "Thanks, Gambit, for picking me up and buying me coffee. And being so nice." You give him a squeeze and let go.
"You know, I don't think we have to go back that soon," Gambit says. "Let's do something fun. Go out or something."
For some reason, Gambit's idea of fun meant going to the zoo and watching that video of penguins for kids again and again four times. He also treated you to a huge lunch, which you didn't finish, and then going home to marathon Netflix.
"Do you want to watch anything in particular?" Gambit asks.
"There's this great series you have to watch," You say lazily, curled up on the couch under a pile of throw blankets and cushions.
"Then let's watch it," Gambit says, draping a comforting arm over your shoulder, and you press closer, his breath tickling the top of your head.
Home sweet home, you think.

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