Blue Christmas

by TM

I'll have a blue Christmas without you
I'll be so blue thinking about you
Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree
Won't mean a thing if you're not here with me

I'll have a blue Christmas that's certain
And when those blue heartache starts hurting
You'll be doing all right with your Christmas of white
But I'll have a blue blue Christmas

"Blue Christmas" by B. Hayes & J. Johnson

Remy LeBeau saw Warren Worthington III sitting on the roof and felt rather annoyed. Oh, part of it was the fact that Warren had picked his favorite spot to perch, but a rather larger part was the fact that the winged man had been sulking all December.

"De man gives Christmas blues a whole new meanin'," Remy grumbled, and went inside. He'd only come out to see what Bobby had been doing, and had left as soon as his lover had immersed himself in his ice-sculpting. It was a holiday tradition for Bobby, to go out to the lake and use his powers to create some spectacular winter wonderland that covered the entire lake. Remy was the only one allowed to see it before it was done, a privilege he appreciated ? but only as long as the hot cocoa held out. Between his upbringing in snowless New Orleans, his lean build, and the lingering memories of his near-fatal abandonment in Antarctica, winter weather had very limited appeal to him.

Entering the kitchen he saw that his luck was running good. Jean Grey-Summers was just taking a batch of homemade chocolate-chip cookies out of the oven, and she appeared to be in a good mood. Excellent! he thought, and promptly proceeded to try to charm her out of a dozen.

"Really, Remy, I know you've got a fast metabolism, but even you don't need that many empty calories in one sitting," Jean scolded indulgently. "And I know Bobby's going to be out at the lake all day and not interested in eating, so don't tell me you're going to be sharing it."

He grinned at her. "Actually, I be plannin' on sharing it. But not wit' Bobby, I admit..."

She slanted a mock-suspicious look at him. "Should I be warning Bobby that your eyes are wandering again?" she asked.

He stuck his tongue out at her. "Non. Bobby be all dis Cajun boy needs, merci beaucoup, an' Remy ain't fool ?nough to take de chance of messin' up de best t'ing ever happened to me. B'sides, even if I was a total fool, I wouldn't be doin' it wit' Archangel of all people."

Jean frowned at him, confused. "Warren? But he... I mean, the two of you have never gotten along particularly well."

Remy snorted. "If y' mean dat he's spent de past year an' a half hating my guts, Remy be well aware of dat. But seein' him mopin' around de mansion be ruinin' my Christmas spirit."

Jean sighed. "He's always like this around the holidays. As long as I've known him he's been like this."

Remy grinned. "Den it be past time dat somebody remind him how much he got t' be t'ankful for." His red-on-black eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Now, Remy," Jean said, donning her ?den-mother' statement, "you aren't going to do anything rash, are you?"

Remy gave her his best innocent look. "Moi? Now when have I ever started a fight wit' de flyboy?" He slipped out of the kitchen with a urchin's grin.

"Remy, what about the cookies?" Jean called after him.

"Already got dem!" he called back, and Jean looked at the wire racks where the cookies had been cooling and laughed. Sure enough, the last batch was missing. <SCAMP!> she mind-sent to him, and heard his amused laughter in her mind before he gently locked her out of his mind.

Remy slipped silently up to the roof, still grinning. Even after almost a year of forced inactivity, he hadn't lost his touch. Jean hadn't even noticed the plate going missing, much less the cookies.

He walked over to the roof with his old catlike grace, the steep slant of the roof no challenge to him, even with the slickness from the snow that the team's fliers hadn't gotten around to sweeping off the surface. He'd filched a fresh thermos of coffee and two mugs while he was raiding the kitchen and offered one to Warren as he sat down beside the winged man. "Coffee?" he asked mildly. "Managed t' get some o' Jean's cookies too. Chocolate chip, still hot." He extended the plate toward the other man.

Warren looked over at him briefly, then shook his head. "Not hungry. Or thirsty."

Remy nodded philosophically enough, but those sharp crimson eyes noted the slight weight loss Warren had suffered. He'd noticed that Angel hadn't been eating much for the past few days, but didn't call the winged man on it, simply settled the plate securely into the snow and poured himself some coffee. Both cookies and coffee were within easy reach of Warren. He began to munch on the cookies in between sips of the hot beverage, not talking, just being present.

Finally, Warren sighed. "What do you want, LeBeau?" he asked in exasperation.

"Wonderin' what's up wit' you," Remy answered. "Y' not eatin', barely sleepin', won't talk t' anyone. Jeannie, she say dat y' always like dis. Any reason?"

"What's it to you?" Warren asked suspiciously. They'd been getting along a bit better since the time that Remy'd stopped Blockbuster from tearing off Warren's wings, but they still weren't anything even vaguely approximating friendly.

"Y' bringin' other people down, dat's what. I'm wonderin' if I should feel sorry f' you or what."

Warren shrugged, his wings lifting and then dropping with the motion. "Nothing big. It's just when I was growing up, I'd get sent home from boarding school for the holidays to spend time with my family. But my parents were so busy with all their parties and fund-raises, they never even seemed to notice I was there."

"Je comprende," Remy said quietly. Then he stood and pitched Warren off the roof.

There was a startled squawk as Angel scrambled to get his wings into action. He managed, just barely, skimming over the snowy ground and turning to hover angrily over where Remy still stood on the roof. He hadn't even bothered to put his coffee down. "What the hell was that for!" he shouted, landing in front of the Cajun and going nose-to-nose with him.

"Y' needed a wake-up call," Remy said calmly.

Warren blinked at that. "I what?!?!"

"I said, y' needed a wake-up call. Y' had a lousy childhood. All de physical comforts, oui, but y' weren't given much more on de emotional side dan me from de sounds of it. But look at what y' got now, homme." Remy was freezing his ass off physically, but verbally he was just warming up.

"Y' got more money dan y' know what t' do with an' y' don't have de cops after y' for it. Y' got friends dat are closer dan y' family ever was, y' got your wings an' y' health, y' got a woman dat thinks you be de best t'ing to ever walk dis earth." He looked at Warren, letting the senior X-Man see the stark look of a survivor that he usually hid under his customary charm and humor. "Take a deep breat', Ange. Two months ago, I woulda given anyt'ing short o' my soul t' do dat again. I knew ? din't just fear, I knew 'dat I would be dead b'fore Christmas. Dat dere was no way t' reverse what my own damfoolishness had done t' me, an' dat I'd never be able t' hold on long 'nough t' make just one Christmas wit' Bobby." The crimson-on-onyx eyes that pinned Warren just as surely as he'd been pinned in the Morlock Tunnels. "Wealt', healt', an' love, mon frere. You an me, we got everyt'ing we need. Everyt'ing we dreamed about growin' up." He took a deep breath himself, taking a sensual pleasure even in the biting cold that stung his nose and lungs. "Every breat' is a blessing, every day a gift from God. Y' forgotten dat. So did I. But me, I got reminded real sharp, an' I ain't gonna be forgettin' any time soon." He grinned at Warren, that infamous Gambit-grin. "T'ink of dis as an early Christmas present ? a bit o' wisdom learned hard, but passed on free o' charge." He turned and walked away, then turned back. "Oh, an' don't forget t' bring de dishes back down t' de kitchen when y' done." He winked, and disappeared back into the mansion, but a thread of melody floated up from where he'd vanished. "I'll have a blue Christmas wit'out y' / I'll be so blue t'inking about y'..."

Warren looked after the Cajun for a long moment, then laughed, shook his head, and poured himself some coffee.

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