just_muse_me | 16.1.3. Chinese proverb
16.1.3. “There is only one pretty child in the world, and every mother has it.” - Chinese proverb
[Follows THIS]
Remy restlessly flicked an Ace of Clubs over and over between the fingers of his left hand. The leg he had braced up on the side of Rogue's empty hospital bed bounced as he fought the urge to leave. Rogue was showering or something and Remy found himself actually left alone with the baby. She was in this plastic thing beside him that looked like a giant ice cube holder and Remy's red eyes watched her warily. He didn't trust anything that small, even if she was wrapped up tightly in a fluffy pink blanket leaving her looking like nothing but a marshmallow with a tuft of almost-black hair sticking out the top. She whimpered and the bundle moved a little, so Remy peered over the plastic edge again, hoping to all fuck she wouldn't start bawling.
"What's the matter, mon petite belle?" he asked her. "Want a smoke?" He raised an eyebrow and looked around the claustrophobic, feminine room with disinterest. "Oui, so do I..." he murmured and cleared his throat. "I'll give you a joint if you don't cry."
It wasn't going to work as the whimpering turned into a warning whine. He dropped his leg from the bed and sat forward, looking into the crib pleadingly. "Hey, kid... I'm not singing to you, so you can forget it. I have the LeBeau rep to uphold, you know. And I don't dance. If you have your mama's lungs, I might just need to cry..." he said hastily and started digging around in his pockets for anything that might stop her wailing. It wasn't like he could carry a boob around in his leather jacket, and besides, the kid only had eyes for Rogue's boobs. Like father like daughter there. A long strip of condoms was produced and he raised his eyebrows. "Balloons? Don't look at me if you want to make animals out of them, though. Trojan would sue me."
She started to cry in earnest now and Remy put his hands up to cover his ears. "Merde... you don't do things in halves, do you? None of that shitting in your pampers, either. I'm not changing you. If I had my way, you would've been born toilet trained." The packet of cigarettes and his silver lighter came out next and as tempting as it was to see if she would shut up if they were waved in her face, he shoved them back into his pocket with a sheepish glance behind him to make sure Rogue wasn't about to pounce on him and rip his balls off for being a bad influence on her daughter. The only thing left now were the keys to his bike and they appeared with a small metallic rattle. He hooked them around his thumb and stood up, hovering beside the infant for a few moments as she continued to work her way to his certain deafness.
"Alright, alright..." Remy mumbled and awkwardly picked her up into his hands. He held her at arms length at first, unsure of really what to do with her. It was the first time he had picked her up on his own accord and he wasn't entirely sure he didn't have to push some buttons or turn some knobs before he would work the whole holding thing. Chase and Rogue made it look as easy as wiping one's arse, as did Lachlan and Tara, but Remy would've been more comfortable holding an acid-spitting porcupine with fangs. He eyed her again closely and then somehow managed to juggle her into the crook of his arm. He was sure he had crapped things larger than this over his time. "I'll make you a deal, bebe. You stop crying and I'll buy you a bike for your sixteenth birthday, no questions asked."
That wasn't supposed to work and as the crying immediately died down, he looked around guilty, wondering if maybe he had broken her. It wasn't like he could pick up a replacement at the nearest pet shop. The keys still jangled in his fingers and he cleared his throat. "Okay, it's a deal... just don't tell your Mom or Dad..." He studied the baby girl in his arms, exploring her face and the sweep of hair so like Rogue's. His goddaughter.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.
Rogue [justalilcontact] & Chase [chasemd] referenced with permission
Word Count | 705
[Follows THIS]
Remy restlessly flicked an Ace of Clubs over and over between the fingers of his left hand. The leg he had braced up on the side of Rogue's empty hospital bed bounced as he fought the urge to leave. Rogue was showering or something and Remy found himself actually left alone with the baby. She was in this plastic thing beside him that looked like a giant ice cube holder and Remy's red eyes watched her warily. He didn't trust anything that small, even if she was wrapped up tightly in a fluffy pink blanket leaving her looking like nothing but a marshmallow with a tuft of almost-black hair sticking out the top. She whimpered and the bundle moved a little, so Remy peered over the plastic edge again, hoping to all fuck she wouldn't start bawling.
"What's the matter, mon petite belle?" he asked her. "Want a smoke?" He raised an eyebrow and looked around the claustrophobic, feminine room with disinterest. "Oui, so do I..." he murmured and cleared his throat. "I'll give you a joint if you don't cry."
It wasn't going to work as the whimpering turned into a warning whine. He dropped his leg from the bed and sat forward, looking into the crib pleadingly. "Hey, kid... I'm not singing to you, so you can forget it. I have the LeBeau rep to uphold, you know. And I don't dance. If you have your mama's lungs, I might just need to cry..." he said hastily and started digging around in his pockets for anything that might stop her wailing. It wasn't like he could carry a boob around in his leather jacket, and besides, the kid only had eyes for Rogue's boobs. Like father like daughter there. A long strip of condoms was produced and he raised his eyebrows. "Balloons? Don't look at me if you want to make animals out of them, though. Trojan would sue me."
She started to cry in earnest now and Remy put his hands up to cover his ears. "Merde... you don't do things in halves, do you? None of that shitting in your pampers, either. I'm not changing you. If I had my way, you would've been born toilet trained." The packet of cigarettes and his silver lighter came out next and as tempting as it was to see if she would shut up if they were waved in her face, he shoved them back into his pocket with a sheepish glance behind him to make sure Rogue wasn't about to pounce on him and rip his balls off for being a bad influence on her daughter. The only thing left now were the keys to his bike and they appeared with a small metallic rattle. He hooked them around his thumb and stood up, hovering beside the infant for a few moments as she continued to work her way to his certain deafness.
"Alright, alright..." Remy mumbled and awkwardly picked her up into his hands. He held her at arms length at first, unsure of really what to do with her. It was the first time he had picked her up on his own accord and he wasn't entirely sure he didn't have to push some buttons or turn some knobs before he would work the whole holding thing. Chase and Rogue made it look as easy as wiping one's arse, as did Lachlan and Tara, but Remy would've been more comfortable holding an acid-spitting porcupine with fangs. He eyed her again closely and then somehow managed to juggle her into the crook of his arm. He was sure he had crapped things larger than this over his time. "I'll make you a deal, bebe. You stop crying and I'll buy you a bike for your sixteenth birthday, no questions asked."
That wasn't supposed to work and as the crying immediately died down, he looked around guilty, wondering if maybe he had broken her. It wasn't like he could pick up a replacement at the nearest pet shop. The keys still jangled in his fingers and he cleared his throat. "Okay, it's a deal... just don't tell your Mom or Dad..." He studied the baby girl in his arms, exploring her face and the sweep of hair so like Rogue's. His goddaughter.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.
Rogue [justalilcontact] & Chase [chasemd] referenced with permission
Word Count | 705