Gambit had always been good at hiding pain behind a smirk, but when Rogue and Magneto betrayed him, something inside him cracked. He didn’t go looking for answers or vengeance—he went looking for you. You, the one person who never asked him to be more than he was, who never needed the charming mask he wore for the world. When he found you, his walls crumbled. You caught him without hesitation, arms open, voice soft, a quiet haven from the storm raging in his chest.

Over time, comfort turned into something deeper, something neither of you put a name to but felt in every touch. Now, with the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, Gambit lay draped over you, his head nestled against your chest, his arms wrapped around you like you were the only thing tethering him to this world. The steady rise and fall of your breathing soothed him more than he’d ever admit, and for once, he let himself be vulnerable, let himself be held. No card tricks, no flirtations—just warmth, safety, and the quiet understanding only you could offer.

Then the door swung open. A chorus of reactions filled the air—Logan’s grunt of disapproval, Jubilee’s barely contained laughter, Storm’s knowing smile. Cyclops adjusted his visor as if to make sure he was seeing correctly. But Gambit didn’t flinch, didn’t move. Let them stare. Let them wonder. He simply sighed, nestling closer against you, his grip tightening like he feared you’d disappear. No matter what anyone thought, he wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever.