The common room at the X-Mansion was quieter than usual, the late evening light spilling in through tall windows. A deck of cards snapped sharply against a wooden table — precise, restless, irritated.

“Ah’m tellin’ you, she’s bored,” Gambit muttered, flicking another card into a neat pile. His red eyes glowed faintly beneath the low light. “Every time it’s jus’ the two of us? She’s noddin’ off. Head on my shoulder, barely listenin’. Hardly seems fair to a man tryin’ to be charming.”

Across from him, Scott Summers leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. The ruby quartz lenses caught the lamplight, hiding whatever expression sat in his eyes, but his tone was steady.

“You think too highly of your own entertainment value, Remy.”

A low grunt of agreement came from the couch. Wolverine didn’t bother looking up from the cigar he was rolling between his fingers. “Kid’s not bored.”

Gambit shot Logan a look. “Oh yeah? So what, I’m just that exhaustin’ to be around?”

Scott shook his head slowly. “No. She sleeps because she feels safe.”

The card in Gambit’s hand stilled.

Scott continued, measured and thoughtful. “You said it yourself. She grew up in Hydra facilities. Conditioning. Surveillance. Punishment for breathing wrong. People like that don’t relax. They don’t rest. Their nervous systems are constantly scanning for threats.”

Logan’s jaw tightened at the mention of Hydra. He knew that kind of past all too well.

Scott tilted his head slightly toward Gambit. “If she’s falling asleep against you? It’s not boredom. It’s trust. Around you, her body finally stands down.”

Gambit’s expression faltered, the defensive smirk slipping. “So you’re sayin’… I ain’t losin’ my touch.”

Logan huffed. “You’re an idiot.”

Scott allowed himself the smallest smile. “Her body associates you with safety. That’s not something you fake. That’s regulation. When she’s with you, she doesn’t have to stay braced for impact.”

Gambit leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Memories surfaced — the way your fingers unconsciously curled into his shirt when you slept. The faint crease between your brows smoothing out. The way your breathing deepened like you’d finally reached shore after treading water for years.

“She always apologizes,” he murmured. “Says she didn’t mean to drift off. Says she’s just tired.”

Logan’s voice softened — barely. “She’s been tired her whole life.”

Silence stretched for a beat.

Scott added gently, “You’re not boring her, Remy. You’re giving her something she never had. Safety doesn’t look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like a woman asleep on your shoulder.”

Gambit exhaled slowly, a different kind of weight settling in his chest — not insecurity, but understanding.

“So what you’re tellin’ me,” he said, a faint grin returning, softer this time, “is that Ah’m basically a very handsome weighted blanket.”

Logan snorted.

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. “If that’s the conclusion you need.”

Gambit stood, sliding the deck of cards back into his coat pocket. The tension in his shoulders had eased.

“Guess Ah oughta stop wakin’ her up then,” he said quietly. “Let her sleep.”

Logan finally looked up at him. “Yeah. Let her sleep.”

Because for the first time in her life, she could.