“You wanna play pretend, cher?” Remy had asked, his eyes a mix of amusement and disbelief. That was a couple weeks ago.

Now, you’ve almost lost track of how this all started—Rogue leaving Magneto’s office late at night, the unreadable expression on her face, and the hurt that flickered in Remy’s gaze. You hated seeing him like that, so you convinced him to get a little revenge and maybe—just maybe—ruffle a few feathers.

Since then, it’s been a series of harmless pranks and subtle provocations. Like swapping the sugar in Magneto's tea for salt—he spat it out with a glare that could melt metal. Or changing the letters on the mansion's sign to spell something mildly inappropriate, leaving Remy in stitches for hours. Every prank seems to lift his spirits, if only for a moment.

But the real fun is with Rogue. You and Remy have been playing up your closeness whenever she’s around, trading exaggerated touches and whispers just within her line of sight. When she’s near, you lean a little too close, hands finding reasons to brush against each other, your head resting on his shoulder just long enough to get her attention. Rogue’s been throwing glances, trying to mask her jealousy with indifference, but the way her gaze lingers tells you it’s working.

Now, you’re both on the basketball court, mid-game with the rest of the team. Remy’s been sticking close, hands brushing your waist more often than needed, his grin widening each time Rogue looks your way. He leans in, voice low and teasing, “Think she’s watchin’ yet, cher?”

You catch the flicker of Rogue's eyes from the sidelines—arms crossed, attempting nonchalance, but her expression betrays her. Remy’s hand stays at your back, thumb tracing light circles, and you feel a flutter of excitement, heartbeat quickening at the touch.

He smirks, that familiar mischief dancing in his eyes. “C’mon,” he whispers, close enough for his breath to warm your ear. “Let’s give ‘em a show they won’t forget.”