He had no much to offer for the Lady Luck for a token of her grace, yet he sent her his gratitude. He hadn’t crossed the border yet. In fact, he had left from Xavier’s well over a week ago, but he hadn’t gotten out of the state yet. It would take few hours from Rogue to drive to the grimy motel he was staying at.
He peeled the baby off from his chest and held in at arm’s length. He could feel the slimy, wet goo sliding down the side of his neck. “Jeesh, you’re clingy, aren’t you…” He huffed when the baby let out a shriek of disappointment, then suddenly stuffed its own balled fist in to its mouth and started chewing at it. Something, a distant memory was slowly making its way to the surface, then it clicked. “You’re getting teeth… Shit. You’re getting teeth? Why didn’t you say something?” He asked. The baby blinked and yawned widely, then continued rubbing its gums. “You guys need some stuff to help with itching, right?” He asked, feeling slightly stupid. Talking to a baby was fine, but waiting for an answer? He was losing it.
At this hour there probably was no convenient store stacked with babies goods open. He wandered across the road to a nearby gas station. Shelves there were stacked to the brim with anything and everything a badass biker or a trucker could need on the road. No teething rings or dummies were around. He spied a familiar looking jar sitting on a shelf, slightly above his eyelevel. He reached for it and it fell in to his hand. Exactly what he needed. Label advertized them to be an excellent, organic road snack for travelers. Some kind of dried biscuits made out of rye and only God knew what else. He had once bought a jar of those god-awful cookies and nearly broken his teeth trying to chew on them. They would do.
He collected few cans of beer, as well as some pretzels and beef jerky for himself and stuffed them to the basket with the rye cookies. He was standing at the counter already when he felt something wet at the scruff of his elbow, just under the baby’s but. “Jesus Christ. Wait a second. I think I forgot something…” He muttered to the smirking clerk who wiggled his fingers to the baby. He returned through the aisles to the back of the store. There were no diapers. He grabbed a colorful pack of waste cotton. It would have to do until morning. That led him to a trickier quest. No matter how hard he looked, there was no milk of any kind. Not even powdered, not that he was even sure if you could give something like it for a baby.
“Got any milk?” He asked from the cashier who started ringing his purchases. The man nodded. “You’re in luck, pal. Got this last week…” The clerk said, crouching behind the counter and hefting a cardboard tray filled with small square packages from there. “Just what the little guy needs,” the man continued, winking for the baby for the good measure. Logan scrunched his forehead. “Baby formula? What the fuck is that?” He asked, instantly alarmed, his hand clutching the baby instinctively closer to him. The clerk just smirked again. “Mommy left you two on your own devices, huh? Well, it’s meant for the babies. To replace the breast milk. Just warm it up before you give it to the little guy. But not too hot. There are instructions in the packages.” “Oh…” He started to relax somewhat. Paid for his groceries, gathered them and walked out, the baby hanging from his shoulder, chewing at his collar again.
Back in his room he settled the baby on to the bed, tucking some pillows around it. Draped his jacket to the bedpost. Baby’s eyes followed the black leather, and its lip started to quiver once more. “You peed on it. You’d have to make pretty hefty arguments to get me to give it back to you. But this…” He held up the jar of biscuits. “This is even better. He cracked the jar open and handed the baby one of the small biscuits.
While the baby was munching on the preferred road snack he started tackling with the harder issues. First he took a healthy swig from a beer. Then another one before placing the can on to the small table next to bed. Then one more and congratulated himself for remembering that he would need a towel. “Fuck the towel. We’re going to have a shower, kiddo. We both reek to high heavens…” He grunted.
It took a bit jostling, but finally he was standing naked in the bathroom, equally naked baby on his arms. That’s when it dawned on him how fucking small the critter actually was. Barely the length of his arm, head fitting on his palm. Hands and feet tiny. Miniscule. And so trusting. He as sure as hell wouldn’t have trusted ugly as hell hairy motherfucker who was at least three hundred pounds his superior, but the baby just kept looking at him calmly. Cool as a cucumber. “But I guess you got no choice in the matter…” He huffed, then reached to turn on the shower. “Just leave all squirming and drooling to minimum, okay? Don’t want to drop you or anything,” he instructed the baby before stepping under the lukewarm spray. And slipped on to a bar of soap at the bottom of the tub, falling on his back and hitting his head. Last thing he realized before the lights went out was the baby’s delighted squeal over the game its new friend had developed.
He came back to his senses quickly enough. The baby was squirming on him, trying simultaneously to chew off his nose and pluck out his muttonchops. “And that is exactly why you shouldn’t horse around at the shower,” he grunted, checking the critter and finding it unharmed. Luckily he had landed on his back. He probably would have crushed the baby if he had fallen face first. He opted to sit down on to the floor instead of standing up. Much less hazardous for the baby’s health.
“You sure are one wrinkly motherf…” He thought the better of it. “…One wrinkly critter, aren’t you…” He grumbled and washed the baby for the best of his abilities. His hands felt awfully clumsy all of a sudden. “You know, I could probably swipe the wings off from a flying mosquito with the stuff I got buried in to my arms. It certainly shouldn’t be a problem to get one itsy bitsy baby cleaned up, right?” He asked. The baby cooed and grasped his palm, trying to bring his thumb to a biting distance.
He had brought the jar of cookies in to the bathroom with them, just in case. Now he reached for it and dug out a biscuit, trading his thumb for it with the baby who took the offered treat. “We’re starting to turn to a couple of prunes already… better get out from here before we dissolve or something…”
He rose from the tub slowly, holding the baby with one hand, the other reaching for a towel when he heard a knock from the door. “Logan! Logan! Are you in there?” Rogue. Finally. He draped the towel over the baby, then quickly shrugged on a bathrobe before leaving the bathroom and going to open the door.
“Uh… It had a leak…” He stuttered, ushering the girl in to the room, trying feebly to explain why he had felt the need to take a shower with the baby. “A leak? Did you stuff a cork in it?” Rogue asked. “Christ, kid. It’s a baby!” He huffed, settling on to the recliner and handing yet another biscuit to his drooling companion. “Yes. A baby, Logan. A he. Or a she. Not it.” “A she. And no. I didn’t stuff a cork in it. You wouldn’t happen to have any diapers with you?” He asked, only now noticing the large duffle bag that Rogue was carrying. “Diapers, clothes, food… You name it, I got it,” the girl said, plunking the bag on to the bed and reaching for the baby. He felt strangely reluctant to let go, but handed the baby over.
After a while when Rogue was sitting on the bed, baby dressed and suckling a bottle of milk he had to admit that the girl probably knew what she was doing. After even a longer while when the baby was snoring softly in a bed made in to one of the drawers of the dresser he was seriously impressed.
And a good deal later he found himself seriously, utterly pissed off.
“She could have gotten sick! What were you thinking?” Marie half shouted, half whispered, waving the jar of rye biscuits up in the air. He tried to grasp the jar. “I was thinking that at least they were healthier than my fucking jacket!” He hissed, cursing silently when he struck his toe to the foot of the bed. He got his fingers around the jar and gave it a sharp yank, only managing to loosen the top of it, making it spill the cookies all over the floor as they grabbled and bickered over them.
“I thought you had more sense than this. Giving this shit to a baby…” Rogue spoke with hushed tone, calmer now as they set to collect the scattered biscuits. “The things I don’t know about babies would fill up a fucking library, kid. That’s why I asked for help,” he murmured. Rogue sat back on her heels, rubbing her face tiredly. “First thing tomorrow morning we’re going to find the local office of the social services. They’ll know what to do with the baby. But before that we both need to sleep,” she huffed.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Second chapter, from which a large portion I get to thank for this pic: http://roudevil.deviantart.com/art/Ultimate-Battle-of-Strength-75901952