Breakfast

Gambit laughs and hip bumps Pyro out of his way, hand sweeping the maple syrup up and away from both Pyro and Sabretooth’s hands. He tucks it by his position at the stove, where he is tending to the French toast. He clicks his tongue and looks to the side.

“Get your butt back to the other side of that counter or this cajun takin’ away eatin’ rights petit feu. Give your portion to Sabretooth. Shoo.”

Pyro sticks out his tongue but obeys. Gambit had given Pryo’s food to Sabretooth before, and the feral had definitely given no sympathy. Gambit hums in approval and then he flips the French Toast.

When he first came to the Acolyte, he only cooked for himself. And Pyro kept trying to steal his food. Never succeeded but it was annoying. He had ended up making enough to feed them both once and Pyro had loudly praised the food, getting Sabretooth’s attention. And, well… Gambit liked the praise.

Shoot, who doesn’t like to be praised for a talent normally overlooked by family? And being so far from home on this mission made his tongue ache for flavors that were familiar. So he took over cooking for the Acoylets, demanding a little help in the kitchen now and then.

The first time that Sabretooth had dropped a dead-eyeless squirrel on the counter with a challenging grin. Remy had huffed, rolled up his sleeves, and gotten to work. You don’t live with a tante who lived through the Depression era without learning to deal with cooking rodents. He made the meat go the distance in a stew and had gotten a bright grin from the feral and easier acceptance from the guy that avoids just about everyone outside of spars and now mealtimes.

“How’s it comin’ shrimp?”

Sabretooth huffs impatiently.

“It’s comin’, it’s comin’. No short-order cook, me.”

He flicks the spatula and looks over his shoulder with a bit of challenge. He had taken food from Sabretooth before for pressuring him too much. He had gotten a scarring bite on his arm. But he had won, scarfing down the food and threatening to do it again.

A few scars don’t scare him. Honestly, not much scares Gambit anymore with all the weird and sometimes mentally scarring missions for the Guild he had been on.

Sabretooth huffs again but gets quiet.

Gambit starts plating the French Toast slices that he has finished and also puts the sausages on the plates. He slips the first plate to Sabretooth and the second to Pyro. The third goes to Colossus along with the maple syrup after taking the amount he wanted. There was another bottle that he had in reserve, but he would wait till the first bottle inevitably runs out. He gets back to work making more French toast slices to go through the two loaves that he had brought back to base for this meal. He eats his own portion while sipping on his chicory-infused coffee.

Colossus pushes him away from the stove as the last bit of French Toast is made and makes him sit down as he starts cleaning the kitchen. Gambit lets him. He likes having a little give and take. He cooks; others clean. It is nice. He swats Pyro’s hand when the younger teen tries to take a piece of food from his plate, but the street rat in his heart has an ache of sympathy and he cuts what he has in half and passes it to Pyro who grins brightly and scarfs it immediately down. Gambit rolls his eyes and pokes Pyro.

“Go clean the livin’ room. You left the couch a mess last night and I ain’t makin’ no one lunch if you don’t deal with it.”

Sabretooth growls and Pryo jumps up.

“Aye aye mum.”

Gambit pulls out a card and thwacks the back of his head, not bothering to charge it.

“Couillion! You watch your mouth or I be doin’ worse than hittin’ you with cards!”

Pyro snickers but vanishes into the living room of the base. Which is not much for comfort or entertainment, given they only get two channels on the TV, the VHS player only works half the time, and the couch squeaks louder than any rats Gambit had encountered in New Orleans.

Gambit finishes his plate and Colossus sweeps it away to the sink. With a small hum of thanks that is met with a soft nod, Gambit leans back and sips on his coffee. He debates going outside to chase some sunshine. But he quickly recalls that he is too far north to simply slip outside and sit in a chair or stump. He would have to throw on a few more layers to deal with the fall weather that would seek to kill a southern boy like him. Nah, sipping coffee in the sun is not enough of a temptation to go through the trouble of piling on layers. He sips his cup and closes his eyes, ears still very tuned into the world around him.

His mind starts to twirl the thoughts of lunch in his head. Something light? He’d like to do something heavier for dinner.

The sound of odd footfalls with a swish of a cape greets his ears as he takes the final swig from his cup. Ah. Here comes the boss man. Probably with a new mission. And here Gambit sits plans for lunch and dinner likely ruined. Ah well. As his brother loves to say in the face of inconvenience: c’est la vie.

He lets an eye crack open and tilts his head to the side as Magneto sweeps into the room.

“Where is Pyro?”

The man states, a controlled tone with echoes of annoyance tucked around.

“Livin’ room, monsieur.”

Gambit states passing his cup to the open and ready hand of Collosus.

“I see. Gather him and your gear. We are heading out. The X-Men wish to meet with us on neutral ground.”

Gambit raises one eyebrow and opens his other eye. Weird. He runs his tongue over the back of his teeth and hops up.

“Alright. I’ll get petit feu.”

And a few extra decks of cards. He might need more than 52 friends this time around.

—

Gambir casually leans against the wall shuffling a deck loosely in his hands. He scrunches his nose as the X-Men approach with their leader wheeling out in front. Bold move, having their leader come out. Sure the guy is a telepath, but one good hit and the guy is out of commission and the group is leaderless.

Lucky for them Magneto seems to have a soft spot for him. Gambit had grown up gambling. Cards were familiar and comforting. And so to was learning to read people. Reading people makes it easier to know who and how to steal from them.

He shuffles the cards again and refocuses.

Magneto is stepping forward to speak with Xavier.

“Charles, I do not often accept summons. What do you want?”

“Magnus… There is a threat to mutant-kind, that while I know my team could probably handle, I would like your assistance in addressing. There are skill sets that we have yet to train our students in, that your team is proficient in.”

Eyes flick to Gambit and he forces down the urge to tense. The hell? What does the telepath want from him? What does he know about Gambit? As much as Gambit knows about the X-Men?

Surely not. Cause not only did Gambit memorize Magneto’s files on all the X-Men, but he had used his own networks to get more information. So what skills… what skills? Definitely not the skills that Gambit has kept shadowed by the Acolytes. Only Henri knows about those other mutant powers that he uses so very very rarely.

“More details are needed Charles; your vagueness is most unhelpful.”

Gambit finds himself shuffling a little more as he listens to the rest of the meeting go down. Apparently, there are artifacts across the country, in museums and private collections that had the ability to mess with mutant powers if manipulated correctly.

Which-

Concerning.

Gambit does not want to deal with his powers warping or evolving again. It always comes with headaches and heartaches.

But back to the meeting.

Apparently, they need a master thief to collect these items and get them to safety as museums rarely sell and private collectors may alert each other to the true value of these items that on their surface seem unconnected.

And Gambit is a master thief.

How they know his ties to the thieves guild is… well honestly, it’s not a huge secret, just a tiny bit surprising that they knew. Perhaps they had gone asking after theives and gotten his name through the network. Not the first time it had happened.

“What do you say, Magnus?”

“Gambit is one of my most skilled fighters, whats to stop you from attacking while he is out?”

“Magnus, you know my focus is reaching out to mutants in need. While I have no doubt that we could work together if you would learn to compromise in some respects, there is reason for you to think that this is me making a move towards weakening your base. Mutant kind is in danger with these artifacts floating about. If others discover what Beast and I have…”

“It would be disastrous… Fine. Gambit, you have a new mission.”

Gambit tucks his cards aways and pushes smoothly off the wall. There is a light growl from Wolverine and Charles clears his throat.

“Ah. yes. Logan had a few worries about only sending one of yours on a mission like this. He will be tagging along.”

Fantastic, dealing with a feral. Fine. whatever. Gambit can handle that.

“Hmm. Well, I refuse to let Gambit travel with Wolverine without backup. Sabretooth. You’re going with.”

Well. Sh*t.