diapers Bayou Baby Boy

[Gothicruby]

 

Author's Notes: An X-Men fic, but one that I've tried to make fairly accessible for anyone to read. Considering opening an ao3 account to post this on, but not sure. Anyway, enjoy! And any critique on my writing skill, punctuation and what-not is 100% welcome and encouraged!

 

Bayou Baby Boy

 

“Why pretend, Belle?” He’d asked on that fateful night as he pulled apart the buttons she’d so carefully fastened across his chest. Her face had stayed set, like stern stone, as the expensive silk tux crumpled to the floor. He’d stepped over it just as coldly; having still been clad in his X-uniform beneath gave him little else to react to, though, he doubted he would have anyway. 

If he’d never been a mutant, then Gambit’s superpower would have been his superb poker-face. In their younger years the blue of Bella Donna’s eyes would have narrowed or, perhaps, she’d have tilted her head in a clear tell that he’d made some sense; his red-black gaze had been softening, calculative as ever, at the time while he plotted the verse of their parting in his head. That night, Bella Donna Boudreaux called Remy LeBeau’s bluff. 

White, hot pain shot down from every nerve in his finger, sending him tumbling to his knees before he could even think to brush his hand across her stony cheek. She’d stepped over him, barely even grinding her heel into the silk of the discarded tux. 

That night, Bella-Donna had come so close to undoing him—if not for Jean Grey blasting that vision of her scheming into the X-Ternal’s mind, she would have succeeded in wiping out the entire thieves guild in one fell swoop. 

That night Remy had escaped, left the enchanted ring on the swamp floor and walked away. 

“I’m never comin’ back,” he’d told her. Meant it, too. 

They weren’t the same love-struck kids hopping over each other’s garden walls anymore; he’d grown away from this whole life and she…well. 

She’d come to scare him…

“Remy…don’t…leave me…” Belle had called so softly. 

Called, and called, and called, over and over again. For two months it was as if the phone was barely ever on the hook. 

 

Shrill ringing echoed through the halls day and night, hours on end. He’d tried to ignore it, let it go straight to voice-mail but the ongoing shriek of phone had long since made the rest of the team turn testy. 

What could he do, he’d tried to explain; it wasn’t as if Xavier’s school was an unlisted number! 

Annoying as it was calling on the phone wasn’t illegal and besides, Westchester police had ‘oh so helpfully’ pointed out, New Orleans was out of their jurisdiction. 

He had to go down there, to try and talk some dang sense into that woman. 

The X-Ternal had stripped Belle of her powers that night as punishment; Belle would have been harmless. Remy figured, apart from her brother, he wouldn’t need to take the whole team to come knocking on her door—he’d be back by mid-afternoon. 

That was five hours ago by now. 

 

“Remy?” 

“Belle, please…” he’d sighed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Oh Remy,” she’d laughed, as if he were being silly. 

The old wooden planks creaked as they waltzed awkwardly off the porch; him untangling her arms from around his neck only for her to twirl behind him and all but push him through the front door. 

He’d thought that they could handle this civilly. 

“Belle…?” The saccharine sight had horrified him, more-so than the grip of the two goons who had grabbed his arms “Belle, please…” 

The ex-thief had struggled wildly, earning himself little more than a patronising chuckle from the two who’d hefted him off his feet; Belle hadn’t even paused her dainty stride. 

“Belle…! Please…!” he could hear her high heels clacking further and further away—her lackies had him pinned tight, having laid him flat out on some sort of table. 

“Belle!” 

“Shhh.” an odd crinkling sound echoed suddenly in his ear and he went deathly quiet. She started back with that same dainty walk, towering over him soon enough with a smile so tender that it made his stomach churn. 

“Hush now, mon chérie…” Bella Donna crooned softly, holding something so odd and alien in her hand that Remy couldn’t even think to yell “Mommy’s here.” 

 

——

 

That had been five hours ago, give or take. 

Obviously, Gambit had tried to escape; the second she’d moved to open that…that thing, his first instinct had been to slam his hands on the table and blow the whole house to smithereens. 

To hell with civility, to hell with begging! 

The last thing he wanted was to give her the satisfaction. The last thing Remy LeBeau would be was the butt of some sick, twisted joke! 

A pink charge had glowed furiously from his fingertips…but once again, Bella Donna had called his bluff. 

Another ring had been slipped down past his knuckle—but while the first had been the product of the X-Ternal’s magic spell, this would prove to be far more formidable; Genosha’s mutant-inhibiting collars, down-sized for her convenience. 

His powers had been nulled instantly, leaving him helpless to her whim; and with the ‘ceremony’ now officially complete all sombre pretence dropped from the room. The two lackies tittered mercilessly as Belle effortlessly slipped his pants down his ankles, which only seemed to get louder and obnoxiously jollier as she carried on. 

Leather gauntlets pinched his cheeks and ruffled his hair for the hell of it while one of them had crowed about “Uncle Julien” taking him to the park later if he was ‘a good little boy for mommy.’

She’d pushed his knees up practically to his throat and seemed to take her sweet time with the powder; even then, he felt as if she didn’t need to be as thorough as when she was patting it into his newly bared bottom. 

Try as he might, Gambit would never forget the utter humiliation of feeling his backside roll down onto the fluffy pad, nor the desperation he’d felt as he’d tried to kick and squirm away from it. The crinkling echoed in his ear long after she’d pulled up the front, a sound that still haunted him so many hours later. 

 

Now, here he lay right where she’d left him; grunting and squirming, wrists bound to the bars of a comically oversized crib—which must have cost even this rich witch a pretty penny for the sake of a joke, geez—and diapered to an equally ridiculous measure. 

‘Diapered’, he wanted to shudder. How far had the once proud thief fallen to wind up in such a predicament. Between bouts of struggling to free himself from these bounds, all Remy could do was curse himself for how obvious a trap it all seemed; since when did Bella Donna Boudreaux, heiress to the Assassins guild throne stoop so low as to beg? To wail and howl like a hysterical idiot for hours on end?  

The woman was nothing if not manipulative…but , then again…he really wasn’t sure he’d have ever seen this coming…

Another frustrated hiss sounded from behind the shield of the pacifier gag; enough was enough, he could mope after he got out of this mess—right now, he was going to have to move fast. 

 

Every hour on the hour, Belle had been drifting on in here with bottle in hand and a smirk that Remy wanted to spit at. Oh, there was nothing untoward about the damn thing, that he could be sure of. If she wanted to poison him, after all, then she wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble setting this whole thing up. No, Belle didn’t want him dead, rather, she wanted him to suffer; what better way to fix that than by giving up the one fundamental control anyone could say they had? 

So far Remy had managed to hold out, but mutant or not there was only so much one bladder could hold. Belle, of course, was more than happy to indulge his stubborn pride—such was half the fun for her, after all, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of being seen in such a state. 

No, Gambit was not going to wet himself; his wrists might be rubbed raw from the effort, but all the huffing and heaving he’d been doing against these ropes were about to pay off. If he could just get in a few more firm tugs then the tension would snap and he’d be free—free to tear off these fleece mittens, toss that confounded ring to the ground and throw that diaper at the wall to bust his way out of here. 

A boyish smirk curled at his lip at that last thought; oh was he going to enjoy blowing that thing to smithereens, for the sake of his pride if not the irony of it all. Besides, if he was going to wind up in a compromising situation then much better to be found as a daring streaker than a helpless baby. 

One more good yank ought to do it…

Sucking in a long, deep breath, Remy flexed his fingers as best he could beneath the confines of the pink mittens and prepared himself for the pull. Then, with every single muscle tensing in the effort, did he give one last heft…

The wooden bars groaned behind him, something was about to give…he could feel it…! 

Then…! 

 

The sound of the door latch unhooking near enough gave the cajun a heart attack. At once, he forced himself to go completely slack, trembling forearms and all; his wrists might have been still bound, but not by much more than a thread. 

“Now just what is all this fuss I was hearin’ just now?” Belle’s voice crooned in that same sickeningly sweet manner. Remy only offered a muffle groan of distaste. 

“It almost sounded like you’d been squirming up a storm in here; though heaven knows why,”

Peering over the top of the crib, Belle met his grimace with an indulgent sort of smile. If she suspected anything at all it didn’t show; in fact, if how patiently she appeared to gaze down at him was anything to go by, then she very idea that he would even attempt to escape might have struck her as adorable.

“Hmm. Then again…” one shapely brow quirked upward, almost mockingly so, as she turned to set the bottle on the bedside counter. Then, without so much as a warning, Belle thrust her hand down towards his diapered crotch. The startled yelp he gave was muffled slightly from behind the shield of the pacifier-come-gag but she took no notice beyond a smooth breath of a chuckle.

Dainty fingers pressed diligently down onto the thick padding, earning a deliciously fretful buck of her captive’s hips. As ever, the heiress was unnecessarily thorough; starting from the top of his groin, Belle worked her way down the entire length of his front—poking, prodding, patting and squeezing all the way down to its very underside. The diaper crinkled loudly all the way through but the sheer bulk of the confounded thing made it impossible to draw his legs together in protest. All he could do was groan and squirm, rolling this way and that in a vain attempt to sidle his crotch away from the mortifying treatment.

By the time she was done Remy’s cheeks were flushed almost as red as his eyes, while she once again grinned down like a Cheshire cat. 

“Still dry mon petit? My, my, such a stubborn little thing you are. Nearly a whole day without a single little tinkle.” she observed oh-so-sweetly “But it’s really not good for you to try and hold it so long. Come now, why not make momma proud?” 

Oh now if that didn’t just take the goddamn gâteau. Very rarely did Remy fully glare—first rule of the life, after all, keep your cards close to your chest—but by now the cajun’s normally youthful face looked almost comical; cheeks puffed out and red, brow brought into an indignant scrunch, and all behind a giant, oversized pacifier so convincing it was insulting. Were he able he’d have ground his teeth a thousand times over, but the damn thing’s teat was like a balloon in his mouth; all it’d do was bob and he refused to even slightly play in to this sick and twisted image. 

“Such a pout on that little face!” Belle just laughed, almost childishly so “We simply cannot have that. What’s the matter petit? Mama’s boy ready for his milkies?” 

Swift as a shooting arrow that same dainty hand whipped around the back of his head, prising the latch of the gag loose. Remy’s aching jaw could scream with relief, but he knew better and snapped his head to the side before that damn bottle could meet his lips. 

Belle frowned, but he wasn’t phased. 

“Chrissakes girl, ya made ya goddamn point.” The thief huffed out at last “I get it. Ya win. Lemme outta here.”

Belle’s face remained blank; a perfectly poised poker face if Remy did ever see one.

“No, petite. I don’t think you fully understand; I ain’t even begun to make my point known.” 

Remy’s brow furrowed again, but before he could open his mouth to ask her hand snapped out and snagged his jaw in a firm grip. There was power behind those manicured fingers, but even more rage simmering beneath those violet eyes. 

“Were you proud of yourself, that night you left me there? Broken, defeated…too weak to even walk?” Her voice is calm, scarily so and Remy knows better than to answer. 

“The way you sauntered off with your arm around that…girl…” Belle doesn’t spit—it’s far too beneath her, after all “I’d have thought you’d been too busy to notice my tears…broken and useless in front of my entire guild. My humiliation.” 

Her voice raises just an octave, but damn if it doesn’t send a shiver right down Remy’s spine. It’d been easy to forget, with the years apart between them, just what ‘assassin’ truly meant to BellaDonna Boudreaux; oh it was more than just the literal sense, that was for sure. He remembered now, the high she seemed to get when she remarked about where her sparring partner of the day had left himself open and just how much of an “Amateur, he really was Remy!”  

“No…I’m sure you were far too wrapped up in yourself to notice, weren’t you? Typical.” She pulls back now, but the simmering rage doesn’t settle behind her eyes just yet. 

“No matter. You’ll learn what it means soon enough…this doesn’t end with a simple wet diaper, after all. But it’ll be a nice start.” A cheery lilt echoed a note or two under the soft drawl; unnaturally so in fact, as she gave his diaper another patronising ruffle. 

 

A feint rumble suddenly echoed through the floor-boards. 

He wasn’t going to lie, it was a relief to have that murderous gaze pulled off of him and off towards the door. Belle stood still as a statue now, but Remy had no doubt her mind was working a mile a minute, taking in every single little detail as it came. 

“Miss Belle—!!” Someone called from down the hall. 

“It’s a—!” a sickly thud.

“Miss Belle come quick—!!” a strangled cry. Then, the cold scream of metal unsheathing. 

Snikt. 

Remy frowned; couldn’t be? 

Well Belle certainly seemed to think so if the glower she gave him was anything to go by. 

“Don’t think for a minute we’re finished here.” she hissed sternly and made a point to snap the gag back in place before she left. He would’ve made it difficult but, again, the assassin in her; the heel of her palm was clamped into his throat before he could even twitch. 

The satin skirts whip loudly as the assassin’s queen turns to exit. The door slams and the lock clacks back into place; if the stakes weren’t so dire then the Cajun might have taken a minute to loll his head back and breathe a sigh of utter relief. Unfortunately, Remy didn’t have that luxury. 

 

The way he saw it, there were two worst case scenarios here, being: 

 

1. That wasn’t who he thought it was and BellaDonna was going to come drifting back in here with vengeance. Or,

 

2. That was exactly who he thought it was, in which case she didn’t have a hope in hell. 

Ordinarily, he might be pleased to think, ‘hey, the ol’ bastard really does care!’  and give the guy a sporting chance to come to his rescue; but ordinarily he wouldn't be trussed up in such a state that he’d actually consider welcoming the alternative. Hell, anyone else seeing him like this…anyone he didn’t know, anyway…he could probably deal with; he’d wanna die but he’d get over it. Anyone he did know, though? Anyone on his team? Nuh-uh, no way, not happening. Time to pop this box wide open and take off like a jumbo-cam streaker. 

Remy yanked, the bonds strained but not enough. Damn. It wasn’t gonna be easy to claw back that lost momentum, not now his muscles had cooled—but christ, he didn’t have another hour to give it. 

Fuck! He inwardly swore, forcing his neck to try and throw his shoulders forward. No go. He tried again, then again and again until form and concentration began to give way to blind, stupid, thrashing panic. 

It was the worst thing you could do, but he couldn’t help it—adrenaline alone just wasn’t cutting it. So he screamed. He screamed so long, loud and hard into his gag that its’ muffled echo could be heard over the pacifier shield. Then—

“Quit ya cryin’ Cajun, I’m here t’spring ya.” No.

Mon putain de Dieu, no…Oh, he couldn’t even bear to open his eyes…

“‘Course…” The gruff voice continued to draw closer “In that get up, not sure there’s much of anythin’ else ya can do, is there?” 

Reluctantly, one dark eye cracked open, only to back squeeze shut almost immediately.

Oh god, this had to be some kind of a bad dream…

 

The look on Logan’s face right now was positively unbearable; he was standing there at the side of the crib, one arm rested over its rim with mask pushed back as if to get a real good eyeful of Remy’s predicament. 

“Now, don’t get me wrong or nothin’, I ain’t about t’judge whatever the hell it is you do behind closed doors, Gumbo,” The man starts, fairly patiently all things considered “But considerin’ this is your witchy ex we’re talkin’ about here, I’m gonna go ahead an call fowl-play here. Ain’t gonna lie though, this almost makes me wanna forgive ya for makin’ off with bike.” 

Remy groaned. Seriously? He was doing this now? 

“And for havin’ t’track your sorry ass all the way out here—” 

“Mmmmph…” 

Logan…

“—On damn blind luck—”

“Mmmph…!” 

Logan…!

“—Considerin’ ya didn’t tell a goddamn soul just what the hell you were up to!” 

“Mmmph!!” 

Logan!!

 

Christ, here Remy was about to piss himself and Wolverine chooses now to turn into Cyclops? 

The Cajun’s neck rocked back and forth again, either trying to motion to the bonds or slam his head into the crib bars and be done with it. 

“Hold on,”

 One claw popped out over Logan’s index finger. It was tough not to wince as it came near his face, but somehow Remy managed it. Hey, little dignities right? 

This time he did have to grunt some when the strap snapped loose, jaw muscles screaming almost as bad as his poor forearms. The pacifier launched out clear across the room and, even then, Remy didn’t think that was far enough. 

“Fuck, Wolverine, quit messin’ around homme…! Cut me loose!” Was the first thing to come out of Gambit’s mouth and with no small amount of desperation.

“What? Another special ring?” Logan almost drawled “Voodoo?” 

“Genosha. Logan, mon ami…c’mon…” Remy was just about keeping from gasping “We don’t got much time here,” 

A wry look caught the older man’s eye, while the thin lines around the ever-grim mouth seemed to curl upwards just a touch. 

“What’s ya rush,” he faintly grunted “They ain’t gonna be hurryin’ back anytime soon,” 

 

At first, Remy just paused; another, more distinct rumble caught him off before he could ask. More yelling sounded off from what sounded like…agh, was that the East corridor? It’d been years since he’d had to memorise this old wreck’s schematics. An alarmed look met Logan’s, but the man didn’t look too worried. 

“Relax. Just borrowed a couple of charges out from your missus’ basement. She’ll have to dig herself out but she’ll be fine, probably. Now,” the mutant’s stocky figure settled just that bit more comfortably over the edge of the crib “About that apology?” 

“Apology?” Remy balked “For what? I just came t’settle things!” 

“On my bike, sure,” Logan nodded. 

“Oh c’mon, ya bike’s fine!” The cajun’s neck was straining, half from trying to lift himself up and the other from just keeping a scowl aimed up at the hairy little bastard.   

“Not the point, Gumbo.” he just clucked, utterly nonplussed “I’ve been pulled out here ‘cos of your shenanigans one too many times for my likin’. First night I think we might be gettin’ some peace and I gotta cross five state lines after findin’ Rogue outta her mind frettin’ for ya. I’ve near enough had it up t’hear with you, kid.” 

A dense fist slammed down over the bars, sending the crib’s side clattering to the floor. Red eyes were trained on Logan, on guard and on edge. 

“You’ve been slippin’ back a ways, boy, since ya last trudged outta this swamp. Skulkin’ and thievin’ around for the hell of it. Anythin’ t’distract ya from the phone ringing off the hook at all hours, or from anybody talkin’ t’ya about it. Hell, ya knew damn well comin’ down here might’a got ya killed, but what the hell right? Better than havin’ one of us finally ask ya what the hell you’re dealin’ with, eh?” 

His last word sounded just one note shy of a snarl, but still, the Cajun said nothing. The line of Remy’s mouth thinned tightly now, finding himself speechless, for once, as he watched the Wolverine’s hackles begin to raise. 

Now, to be clear, Logan yelling at him wasn’t a new experience in the slightest; the man had a fuse thin as an eyelash. It wasn’t rare to see him grumbling and growling over one thing or another and, admittedly, Remy was rather prone to amusing himself by seeing just how wide a range those gripes could reach, but not once did either of them ever venture into such…personal…territory.

Talk about it? Talk about what, BellaDonna? The tithe? The exile that came from it? How he’d been tossed out of the only life he’d ever known into another that would never truly trust him? And, hell, while they were on the subject—why did Logan, of all people, suddenly care? 

Remy’s jaw clenched a moment, followed by a stabbing pain in his gut. Probably not the wince Logan was hoping for, but no doubt the old git would take some satisfaction from it. 

“Logan…” he hissed sharply through his teeth “I gotta fuckin’ piss here, man.” 

Another, harder snort was his answer. 

“Well good thing you’re nice an’ padded, champ, ‘cos I ain’t liftin’ a finger ‘till you gimme a ‘sorry.’” 

 

Cold. That was the feeling that flushed through Remy’s veins at the response until another stab drew out another low groan from the back of his throat. Logan paid him no mind and just shifting his weight, slightly, to rest his arm over one of the crib’s posts. 

The cajun couldn’t believe it; he was really doing this, wasn’t he? Actually going to wait him out as if he were a damned toddler—and right now that was a painfully apt description. 

The sharp stabs were coming in much closer intervals, merging from a shrill warning into a dull, urgent call. Remy’s hips were rocking now, rolling this way and that as if it might help get him enough leverage to be able to cross his legs over, but the padding was just too thick. 

Muscled thighs kicked out in frustration, making everything rustle and crinkle out loudly. At this point he might have expected a laugh or a few jeers at his expense, yet Logan just stood there, watching passively as he squirmed. 

“L-Logan…!” Remy was grimacing now, the red of his eyes shimmering pleadingly up at his so-called rescuer; but Logan surely had to pick today to be the paragon of patience, didn’t he? 

“Just takes one word, kiddo.” the older man just reaffirmed, not sounding totally unlike a parent waiting on their tantrum-ing tot. 

“Agh—christ!” he swore, head lolling back against the mattress “Fine! Fine; I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry!” 

This earned him a nod. 

“For?” 

The red eyes fluttered open, wide in astonishment. 

“‘For’??” came the cajun’s squawk, but an ominous tremor through his pelvis quickly set his priorities back on track “For—for—! Hell, for everythin’! For stealin’ the bike, for worryin’ Rogue! For not tellin’ anyone where I was an’ draggin’ ya out here! Is that what ya wanna hear? Ya happy??” 

“It’s a start.” 

Another, harsher tremor went through Remy’s gut, reaching down his groin and into his thighs—he couldn’t keep this up much longer!

“Logan please!!” 

Snikt. 

A rough palm hooked around his forearm.

“Hold still.” 

The adamantium claw sliced through the rope like butter and, even though his forearms were practically screaming from lack of blood flow, Remy honestly could have cried in relief. Hell, he may well do that, but there was one more thing to take care of yet. 

Despite all the agony, the agile cajun rolled himself out of the crib to stand, tore off the fleece-y mittens that held his hands captive with his teeth and seized hold of the infernal ring. 

One good tug and—

and—

“Fuck!” Remy gave in a strangled, panicked cry. 

“What’s wrong?” Logan was leaning over him now, stern brow furrowed in concern as he watched the younger mutant tug and bounce in place with a desperation he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen from a grown man. 

“It won’t come off…!” was all he could give in answer; his attentions were divided now between prising his finger loose and not pissing himself then and there, though the latter was beginning to win favour in that regard. 

With another strangled yell, Remy gave up on the ring and let his spare hand fly to his crotch; the awkward bouncing had officially turned into a potty dance. 

“For the love o—Give it here.” Logan seemed to huff as he strode forward to grab hold of the Cajun’s wrist. The index claw once again popped out, but the second the adamantium touched the Genoshan metal, both mutants knew they’d made a horrific mistake. 

 

Pain zapped through them to the tune of 1,200 volts a second, probably more for Logan considering his metal skeleton. Still, the veteran was nothing if not stubborn; while Remy screamed bloody murder, he simply grit his teeth and set the tip of his claw further into the intricate circuitry. 

There was a crackle, a pop before, finally, the ring came loose…but the damage had already been done. 

When the buzzing in his teeth finally subsided, the first thing Remy noticed was how the strange warmth that had engulfed his groin hadn’t seemed to fade with the rest of the electricity; if anything, it suddenly seemed…heavier…

“N-no…” 

“Kid?” 

He couldn’t pull his hand away, to look down, didn’t want to bring himself to admit it…

“I-I…” he choked.

In the end, Logan had to reach in and yank his hand away from where he was so timidly cradling; the situation spoke for itself. A large, sallow patch was seeping through the front of the plastic backing. 

“Fuck’s sake…” the elder mutant growled under his breath; it was reflex more than anything, just a thoughtless slip, but too little too late did he realise the mistake. 

Remy was glowering at him like he’d just kicked a goddamn puppy, face pulled into a dark grimace. 

“D-don’t know what you’re all bent outta shape about…i-it ain’t you that got wet, mon ami…” He choked out bitterly, snatching his wrist out of Logan’s slightly slackened grip. “Hell…it’s your goddamn fault. Y-you…you seein’ me lyin’ there…y-ya knew I had t’…ya just…” his face was near enough contorting now into a look that Logan couldn’t quite place “Ya fuckin’…ya just watched me like some…!” 

 

Another choked bark made its’ way out into the open, with the kind of shuddering that Logan had seen all too many times before. 

“Hey.” Large palms set firmly atop Remy’s shoulders as he met the younger man’s glower with an even, steady gaze “S’alright Rem…” 

“No it ain’t…!” 

Those lithe shoulders gave another shudder. Logan pulled him in just as the first sob broke, but honestly, Remy wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. 

He didn’t pull away, that was for sure, but he felt no happier about anything either. Try as he might to keep them at bay, the tears showed no sign of lessening, so in the end he just wound up with his head buried in the chest of the bright yellow suit. 

Logan, for his part, didn’t shove the kid off. In fact, he was unusually gentle when he needed to be; one hand cradling the nape of Remy’s neck, the other running up and down his heaving back, even as he whined and fussed at him through the tears. The gruffer mutant paid it no mind, though, beyond a reprimanding shush. 

“Take it easy kid, this ain’t the end of the world here,” he’d murmured lightly, offering a firm pat across his shoulder blades “Ain’t even the…worst.” he caught himself that time, but it was nonetheless sincere. 

“Y-y’just sayin’ that…” the cajun whimpered bitterly. 

“No. Listen t’me now.” Logan more or less ordered, making a point to tilt Remy’s chin up. 

“I’ve seen men, older than you mind, in worse states than you’re in now. It happens. It’s shitty and it’s humiliatin’, but it happens. Just gotta pick yourself up and deal with it.” 

Somehow the cajun looked so small right now, an impressive feat considering Logan’s stocky stature. It was true though; what with his lip pooched out and trembling, along with the flushed cheeks…god, it was times like these Logan realised just how damned old he was. 

“E-easy for you t’say…” 

“Yeah, well. Been at it a lot longer than you, Gumbo.” he told him plainly “Now, question is; am I gonna be luggin’ you home in a soggy diaper feelin’ all sorry for yaself, or are we gonna do somethin’ about it?” 

A hiccup caught in the kid’s throat as he gave a huffy sort of shrug. Great, so they were gonna bd playing it that way, huh? Fine. Tough love it was. 

“C’mon. Get your clothes Cajun, we’re leavin’.” Logan ordered again, a little firmer this time now that the Cajun seemed to have settled. Remy pulled back a bit, but kept his gaze low to the ground. 

“Can’t…” He snuffed, earning a soft growl from Logan. 

“Ya know, if ya gonna be like this—”

“No, Logan, Belle took ‘em after she stripped me. Made it into this whole show an’ dance about ‘takin’ temptation away or somethin’.’ I ain’t gonna go wanderin’ for ‘em like…well…” he gestured haplessly down to his sodden form. 

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. Right. Ok. Fair point. 

“Well, ya can’t stay here…” Remy opened his mouth to speak, but Logan caught him off then and there “And you’re not sittin’ your naked ass anywhere down on the Blackbird, so get that outta your head right now.” 

Glancing around didn’t provide much help either. BellaDonna had certainly gone to town on this whole get up, what with the adorable cubbies and saccharine colours lining each end. And diapers, mounds and mounds of extra-thick diapers piled up on every shelf, no doubt for Remy’s ‘benefit.’ Whatever they were going to find, the Cajun probably wasn’t going to like…he let out a slow breath between his teeth. 

“Alright. Lie down.” Logan spoke after a moment, earning a blink from Remy. 

“Pardon?” 

“You heard me. You’re not gonna like what I got in mind but I ain’t gonna waste time fightin’ ya. Lie down so we can make this as painless as possible.” 

As he spoke Logan moved towards one of the high-piled stacks and, immediately, Remy went pale. 

“No. No, no, no, no. You are not puttin’ me in another one o’those things!” he tried to take a step back, but the way the sopping cloth pushed out between his thighs made it feel more like a tottering waddle. Remy grimaced. 

“Hell, I can barely walk in this thing as is…!” 

 

“Which is why it’s probably best we get ya outta that one and into something a little fresher, don’t ya think?” 

As ever, Logan’s completely stone faced as he approaches, diaper in one hand, powder in the other and a package of babywipes settled in the crook of his arm; if he weren’t still reeling from this whole twisted experience, maybe Remy would have found it in him to laugh. As it was, the young man looked torn between melting into the floor and bursting into a fresh batch tears. 

Another sigh left Logan, slow and heavy as he opted to set the offending items down on the floor so as to be able to approach the kid without spooking the life out of him. 

“Look, Rem, I ain’t doin’ this for my own amusement. Ya need somethin’ on ‘till we get back t’the mansion. I figure between this an’…Christ, I don’t know, bunny-overalls, this’d be the easier t’stomach.” 

Another grimace catches Remy’s face, but not like before; no, this is more of a cringe, as if the mental image he’d just painted for him where sitting plain as day behind those still-damp eyes. His hands fisted at his sides, pulsing with an aimless charge…and relaxed. 

Nothing to be done about it, was there. Still, his shoulders slumped heavily. 

“Can’t y’jus’ stick it on t’seat an’ make me sit on it…?” the voice was small, almost childlike. Logan wasn’t going to comment one it, though he did set his hands over the Cajun’s shoulders again. 

“Wearin’ it s’just the same as sittin’ on it, son.” He reasoned evenly; and, besides, no offence to the kid and all but this way they could pretend he was halfway-decent. 

He was beat, Remy knew it, much as he knew he should have started waddling towards the crib already; yet still he lingered. Logan didn’t push him, even if though he could feel the older mutant getting antsy beneath that coarse visage. Belle might still be a while yet, but they probably shouldn’t linger too long. 

Still, the dark eyes were flickering anxiously—first to the bed, then back to Logan. The rough palms gave a reassuring squeeze. 

“I know, but ya ain’t gettin’ trapped there again. Promise.” his tone seemed softer now, not even a little bit rushed. Remy took another shaky breath. Then, finally the arduous waddle began. 

 

One foot in front of the other—never had this felt like a more daunting task. He made it, sure, but not without a lot of uncomfortable sloshing and the most unsteady pigeon toes in the world. The crib almost seemed like a relief at this point, but even if this time he was laying down of his own volition, he still couldn’t say that he cared for being back in this all too familiar…position. 

To his credit, Logan sensed this. 

“Relax,” he soothed, slow and even. The gruff palm came to settle on his lean stomach, Remy blinked almost shyly. If Logan didn’t know better then he’d say the bottom lip on the younger man actually seemed to pooch; he didn’t comment though. 

Really, there was no sense dragging this out; however they went about it, it was bound to be awkward and overly-personal…it was times like these Logan was grateful that he was getting just too old to care. 

The tapes snapped open, Remy blushed a deep crimson. Logan’s hand came to grab the diaper’s waist, but he paused before drawing it down. 

“Ya sure you’re done?” 

“Huh?” Remy squinted slightly.  

“Y’know. Done. If I pull this down ya ain’t gonna spring another leak are ya?”

“What? No!” 

“Ya sure? ‘Cos I don’t wanna g—”

“Logan!” The crack in his voice was getting desperate. 

 

Logan’s brow remained stony as he considered the Cajun a moment more. There was a certain… ‘risk’ concerning boys and their diapers, no matter how big the boy. 

It must have only been half a second of silence, if that, but clearly it was too much for Remy to bear at this point. The sodden thing sopped heavily as he began trying to kick the other away. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake—!”

“Alright, alright, sit down already,” Logan just grumbled, putting a hand out to meet Remy’s chest and keep him from rolling up completely. With one hand bracing the kid’s long, springy legs, he made careful work of folding the diaper down and pulling it away. 

All thing’s considered…this wasn’t nearly as bad as when Belle had done it. He couldn’t believe he was even thinking that, but it was true. With Belle, it was as if Remy had been made to suffer; the jeering, the bottom patting, the sickeningly-sweet voice she used as she cupped the front and gave it a cruel jiggle…

Sure, Logan was currently making a point to top and tail him with that wipe—but when Remy whined, there was no laughter. In fact, the guy surprised him again by setting his palm over his stomach and quietly shushing. It was childish, it was unnecessary…but it sure made Remy feel better…

“Almost done kiddo,” Logan narrated absently. He got a tiny murmur in response. 

Remy hardly even seemed to mind, now, as the clean diaper came over his front. Logan smoothed the waistband over some before he started on the tapes. 

“Damn things, how’re they s’posed t’…” he grumbled under his breath, earning himself a surprising laugh out of his hapless ‘charge.’ 

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up Gumbo.” Logan just sighed resolutely; he looked annoyed but there was no heat to it, not really, “Let’s see if you’re still laughin’ when ya see all the mosquito’s out there, just waitin’ for a chance to bite your ass while you’re waddlin’ through the swamp.” 

 

A firm smack across the thick punctuated that sentiment after Logan had helped heft the Cajun to his feet. Normally, Remy wouldn’t have stood for it…but see, he had bigger problems right now…

“Uh, yeah, speakin’ of mon ami…” he winced awkwardly. The pigeon toes were back with vengeance…

“How we, uh…how we s’posed t’swing this?” 

 

—

 

Piggy-backing, it turns out, was as much of a life saver as it was for time. At first Remy had been quick to refuse. 

“Humiliatin’ enough I gotta look like a baby, I ain’t gonna be carried like one!”  he’d adamantly insisted and, to his credit, had made a decent effort of holding up that promise. He was a swamp-rat, born and raised, after all. So he started off, one foot awkwardly in front of the other and bottom bobbing slightly with the effort. 

The problem with swampy terrain, though, wasn’t so much the mud, but what it tended to cover; the ivy, Remy could deal with. Sure it was…surreal…to have to tread through bare-foot but, hey, he managed; stones and splinters though? Yeah, not so much. 

“Ya couldn’t-a parked the jet up closer, homme?” Was Logan’s first clue to keep an eye on him; they were barely out the door and still had a mile and a half to go, yet already he was griping. 

‘Kid sounded tired,’ he’d absently thought at the time; not that Remy didn’t have reason to be, of course. Hell, Logan had to wonder how much effort it took to traverse a way with that kind of a gait. 

Then, there was a yelp and Logan had swung his arm back just in time to catch the kid before he fell. A stone, a big one, scraped across the ball of his foot. 

So, that tore it. 

Logan lifted him up, got him on his back and that was that. 

 

‘And thank Jesus-hoppin’-Christ.’ The veteran mused idly to himself as they walked; at the rate Remy had been toddling, they probably wouldn’t have reached the Blackbird since sun-up. 

As it was, they were nearly there. Just a half a yard more, or so, and they’d be on their way. 

Logan glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t make to announce. Remy had passed out about a mile back and, liking his peach and quiet and all that, the older mutant wasn’t about to disturb him. Besides…he’d looked like he needed it, so Logan was going to let him rest.

…Even if having to hunch like this was wreaking havoc on his back, jeez…

“I tell ya, kid, the things I do for you sometimes…” he sighed softly, even as a twinge went through one of his muscles somewhere. He had to stop, try and shake it out somehow…

“Probably just be easier t’carry ya the ol’ fashioned way…” Logan grunted…then had to smirk at the idea. 

He was definitely strong enough to be able to do it, Remy was built lean as hell anyway…kid wouldn’t be happy, though…but hell. He was so deep in a doze, how was he gonna tell? 

Remy’s grip was loose around his neck and the rest of him was slack enough. Logan let one of his legs gently drop and, gently, shimmied him around until he was at his front on his hip.

One hand under the bottom, a firm lift…and there. Much better, but when the gentle breathing suddenly hitched out a murmur, the older mutant froze completely. 

‘Shit.’ 

Logan let out a soft, controlled breath as he set his palm across the bridge of Remy’s shoulder blades. Another sound left the kid, not quite as agitated as the last. Then…who knows, maybe it was instinct that took over…Logan braced his arms just that bit more securely around the lithe form and began to softly bounce. 

Closed lids twitched slightly at first. The furl that the younger’s brow was threatening to pull into paused, then seemed to relax completely after a few more careful bounces. 

Logan shrugged his shoulder so very carefully, edging the lolled head just a little closer to the crook of his neck; that seemed to do it. Remy’s nose nuzzled into the soft join; there was a sigh, then peace. The cajun’s breathing evened out and he was back on the dreamland express. 

Another slow, measured breath flew easily from Logan’s mouth. He hadn’t actually expected that to work. 

Still, seeing the usually smarmy Cajun snuggled up to him like this was quite a sight; yet Logan didn’t seem to be inclined to roll his eyes any at the development. The younger one’s breathing was soft in his ear, uncharacteristically so even. The thin line of his grizzled mouth quirked slightly. 

“Goin’ soft old man, definitely goin’ soft.” Logan just breathed to himself before starting towards the Blackbird’s ramp. Ah well…worst things could happen. Wasn’t often Wolverine had an excuse to smile. 

The next trick, though, would be figuring out how to get Gambit off the jet without being seen; hey, he was an incorrigible ass at times, but the kid had pride. Logan figured he owed it to him to try and help him keep it. 

He’d puzzle it out on the way though, maybe keep a lower gear to mull it over. 

He clipped Remy carefully into one of the seats behind him and paused to chuckle at the sight. Head lolled off to one side, hair all tousled and askew…must’ve looked about a decade younger than he was. 

Looked almost…cute. 

Another soft chuckle left Logan as he ran his hand across the disheveled head. 

“Yeah, definitely goin’ soft.” He grinned. 

But, hey. At least it felt worth it. 

 

The end.