A FAMILY AFFAIR - PART ONE

By Rogue

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“Now, kid’s, y’all be good for your daddy, but especially Auntie Jean,” Rogue warned her two children, Oliver and Renee, wagging a disapproving gloved finger at them. She then looked seriously into her 10 year old son’s red on black eyes he had inherited from his father.

“Oliver, for the love of Christ, behave for Uncle Scott!”

As well as inheriting the somewhat unusual eye colour, Oliver had adopted a similar taste for causing mayhem. ‘Uncle Scott’ had waged war on him ever since Oliver had vomited on Scott, aged 6 months. Though Jean later shouted at Scott for telling off Oliver and putting him straight to bed despite it being 11AM, Scott maintained to swear blind Oliver had done it on purpose; waiting for Scott to change into his best shirt. Ever since, Oliver, by discreet encouragement from his father, had made it his life mission to wind Scott up. Rogue was driven to despair on many occasions, unable to understand why after hundreds of tellings off, why Oliver had persisted. Oblivious to her, Gambit had restored any removed privileges of Oliver’s actions and sometimes paid him if he felt he’d done a fantastic job.

Oliver blinked up as innocently as he could at his mother. “I will, momma,” he sang sweetly. Raising an eyebrow, Rogue kissed her son’s head, who promptly rubbed at it, fearing Jean’s twins, Nathan and Scotia, also 10, has seen. Rogue scooped up the 3 year old Renee and hugged her tightly.

“Make sure that hell raiser brother of yours stays outta trouble,” she told her, before adding “and your father!”

Rogue was saying goodbye to Jean’s children when Logan entered the living room; causing Renee to promptly scream in delight and career towards the Canadian. For some reason, Renee adored Wolverine unlike the other children. Wolverine secretly liked to play with the girl, but he’d be damned if anyone found out. Supposedly reluctantly picking up Renee, he looked to Rogue.

“Yer cab’s here, darlin’,” he said as Rogue scooped up her bag with ease.

“Thanks, Logan, y’all take care of yourself,” Rogue smiled.

“Always do,” he grunted, before tipping Renee upside down and shaking her gently. As Rogue crossed the vast entrance hall, she distinctly heard her son who had just sworn to behave say: “Shake her up real good then give her to Uncle Scott, see if she’s sick.”

“OLIVER!” Rogue bellowed warningly as she left the enormous doors into the bright sunshine. Scott was sweating, loading a suitcase into the back of a yellow taxi. Jean merely watched as she bounced her 5 month new son Phillip on her hip. Once Rogue had hurled the final case with ease into the boot for Scott, she faced her best friend.

“Take care,” Jean smiled as she and Rogue had a brief one-armed hug as Jean only had one to spare.

“I will,” Rogue promised, before looking down at Phillip. “You be good for mummy, won’t you Phil?” She kissed her gloved finger and pressed it to Phillip’s nose, who promptly seized a clutch of her long white stripe and tugged hard. Eyes watering, Rogue laughed as Jean tactfully prized the hair from her son’s hand. Rogue looked at Scott, who was holding his hand out to be shaken. Rolling her eyes, she did so, assuming this was Scott’s way fo saying goodbye.

“Now you have a good time visiting your father-in-law,” he began as if addressing a teenager. “But remember you are an X-Man, and X-Men have certain standards where…” He was cut short by Jean elbowing him in the ribs.

“We’ll look after Oliver and Renee when Gambit leaves tomorrow,” Jean assured Rogue as she got into the cab. Scott’s face flashed horror: clearly Jean had kept it from him that they were looking after Oliver. Rogue laughed as she sat back and the taxi began to move. They waved the car down the drive until it disappeared.

“And WHEN exactly were you going to tell me we’d be looking after that….that BOY?” Scott stuttered at Jean. She simply placed Phillip in Scott’s arms and said:

“He’s a 10 year old, Scott! He’s a perfectly lovely child!”

With that she stalked through the doors to make the children’s dinner. Phillip burbled baby talk before attempting to pull his father’s ruby quartz glasses off his face.

“When you’re around,” Scott muttered at his wife’s last comment as he took Phillip indoors.


*


It was mid-afternoon when Gambit had walked strangely into the living room where Oliver, Scotia and Nathan were sat playing on a playstation. Wandering through to the kitchen, and emerged with a cup of coffee. He watched Yoshi the dragon and various other game figured dance across the screen before Renee came tearing in, followed by her personal yet secret minder, Wolverine. She squealed in joy at the sight of her father and tried to clamber on his knee. Gambit grunted and instead seized her under her arms and dangled her in the air for a minute, before seating her next to him. Bewildered but seemingly unphased, Renee was distracted by the characters on the screen. Gambit took this opportunity to flick a cigarette from his pocket and search blindly for a lighter. Oliver glanced around looking scandalized.

“Daddy, momma said you weren’t allowed t’smoke round us,” he gasped, a mixture of his mother’s southern drawl and hid father’s Cajun French.

“Yeah, well momma ain’t here t’tell me off, she don’t know I smoke in th’day,” he muttered through the cigarette clamped in his teeth. Scotia now looked round; horrified at the thought ‘Uncle Gambit’ would be naughty and smoke. Her mother had told her discreetly that if he ever started to smoke in front of them, they were to leave the room and find either her or Auntie Rogue.

“Relax, p’tete, Gambit gonna go outside once he found his lighter,” he assured her, as Logan entered the room clutching two bottles of beer. Scotia glanced at the beer, thinking that her mother had also said in event of smoking OR drinking, she was to go out of the room and go find etc etc.

“Hey, Gumbo, fancy one?” He growled, tossing the bottle at an unsuspecting Gambit. It landed in his lap, which promptly caused the colour to drain from his face and he shot up from his seat doubled over.

“Need….Hank…to see…” he grunted, scattering his cigarettes and bottle of beer onto the floor and hobbling out of the room. Logan looked bewildered, but saw Scotia’s eyes transfixed on the beer in his hand looking appalled. Logan thought it was astounding how much she could look like her mother sometimes, with the same bright blue eyes looking scandalized. Come to think of it, ‘Auntie Rogue’ had given Renee a similar expression, the difference her eyes being emerald green. However, with a father like Gambit, Renee had soon gotten used to thinks such as drinking and smoking. Nonetheless, Logan sighed and went to put his beer away, trailed by an adoring Renee. The back door from the kitchen was heard opening as Renee squealed:

“Let’s go plant flowers, Uncle Logan!”
Meanwhile, the three 10 year olds were finally bored with their game. Oliver leant back lazily on his hands, a trait which was seen in his father. He resembled him more so since gambit had bought him a brown leather duster (much to Rogue’s horror) just like his, which Oliver adored and wore daily. Rogue had confided in Jean that she lay awake at night for a week after, petrified that this would encourage her son to pursue crime just like his father used to in order to copy him. He flicked his auburn hair from his eyes exactly as his father did, with the same colour hair excluding the white streak he had from Rogue. Scotia was transfixed, clearly admiring Oliver. Nathan rolled his eyes at his sister. Both he and Scotia had dirty blonde hair which would clearly darken in age until it resembled their fathers. They both had Jean’s brilliant blue eyes, and Nathan was the catch of the school they went to, as well as Oliver. Oliver had his reputation for being a pretty rebel: Nathan, however, was the pretty, clever and a sporty guy. Scotia was much like her brother, but was into cooking in a big way, idolizing her mother’s culinary skills.

“Where’s your momma an’ papa?” Oliver asked Nathan, who shrugged. Scotia recited exactly what her daddy had previously told her after dinner.

“They want to spend some time together so Uncle Gambit will keep us entertained, hopefully downstairs, out the way,” She mimicked, oblivious that she wasn’t meant to hear the ‘hopefully…’ bit. Oliver’s curiosity was immediately sparked, though he didn’t say it at first. His eyes fell upon his father’s crumpled packet of cigarettes, lighter, and unopened beer. Smirking, he picked up the cigarettes and beer. Mimicking his father, he flicked the packet so half a cigarette popped up, and he took it from the pack. Scotia’s eyes were now big blue orbs threatening to pop out of their sockets. Though Oliver looked inexplicably cool, she had heard Auntie Rogue having many-an-argument with Uncle Gambit about his smoking habit; as well as her mother pleading with them not to copy Gambit. Nathan, who was no fool, looked skeptically at his best friend.

“You smoke then?”

“Course, mon ami, poppa’s been lettin’ me hav’ a fag fo’ years,” Oliver said smoothly, fully aware that he’d only ever pinched one of his father’s cigarettes and never lit it, simply standing it between his teeth. Nathan looked impressed, unsure whether to believe the story, but Oliver seemed to know what he was doing with the white stick. He held out the pack for Nathan, and Scotia breathed in sharply, still mute and eyes wide, looking at the packet to her brother. Nathan, petrified that Oliver would then think him ‘uncool’, took a cigarette uncertainly. Fiddling around with the lighter, the two had finally got them going and had taken some shaky drags. Oliver’s eyes watered madly, though he was sort of used to the smell. Gambit had smoked in that car when he used to pick him up from school until his mother found out and went ballistic. But since then, Gambit was only permitted to smoke outside at night where the kids wouldn’t see him, though he abused that rule whenever possible. Consequently, Oliver was no stranger to the sensation of smoking.

However, with a father whose morals are pure as the driven snow, Nathan had little to no experience with smoke, only seeing Uncle Gambit do it at a distance. His father had never smoked, but he’d drink once in a while, usually encouraged by Uncle Gambit. It didn’t take much for him to get drunk, especially with Remy making him drinks. The second he took a drag, his face went a sickly white and a thin sheen of sweat appeared. Scotia nearly had a fit and was paralyzed with fear as she saw her brother and crush smoking a foot away from her. She noticed the rapid change in health of Nathan, knowing he was either going to faint or be sick. Oliver looked horrorstruck and seized the bottle of beer, offering it to Nathan as a drink to hopefully aid the sickness. Nathan gulped it down, not caring that it was alcoholic, he was just desperate for a drink. This, however, was a big mistake. The green tint intensified before he lurched and was messily sick on the rug.

Oliver hastily picked up the two dropped cigarettes and abandoned them in the ashtray on the coffee table. He panicked, not having a clue what to do, resolving that he would have to find one of Nathan’s parents, preferably Auntie Jean. He skittered out of the living room and up the stairs.
"Auntie Jean!! AUNTIE JEAN!!" Oliver screamed as he tore up the stairs and skidded around the corner into the third floor corridor. As Jean and Scott's room was the first door on the left, there was no time for them to hear the frantic scream of the eldest LeBeau before it was too late as he flung open the polished mahogany door.

"AUNTIE JEAN! Nathan is..."

"DON'T LOOK OLIVER!" Jean screamed frantically, but it was far too late. Oliver seemed to turn to stone as he caught Auntie Jean and Uncle Scott in a thoroughly compromising position. The 3 second awkward silence as over.

& quot;AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The 10 year old scrambled backwards, eyes huge in terror as Jean attempted to cover her modestly and push Scott away.

“Come on, Jean,” Scott began, but stopped at the look of horror on Jean’s face.

“Scott, Oliver has just seen us naked. To see your naked arse is enough to scar him for life, he doesn’t need any more trauma.”

“He’ll just think I’m hurting you…”

Jean slapped Scott on the shoulder, but Oliver has already turned tail to flee into the opposite bedroom, that was once his mothers, but was now converted into a double room for her and Gambit. Expecting the room to be empty, he wasn’t prepared for the sight awaiting him.

There stood his father, one leg crooked on the bed with his face an expression of agony. Beast was crouched on the floor, arms full of bandages and ointment. To Oliver’s absolute distress, his father was minus any of his usual scrappy jeans, or indeed underpants. Mercifully, his ‘dignity’ was bandaged.

“Honestly, Remy, whatever possessed you to get it trapped in the window?”

“Look, wit’ Rogue goin’ away for a while, I thought I’d giv’ her a memorable farewell.”

“By waving your penis at her?”

Oliver, whose voice had temporarily abandoned him, found it again at this last sentence and let out another hysterical scream, causing Beast and Gambit to look around in alarm.

“P’tete, I…” Gambit began, but his son had long since hurtled out of the doorway and screaming along the corridor.


TO BE CONTINUED....