This is one of my ideas referenced in my latest story "Secrets of an Expecting Father". 'Tis yet another of the "Ah'm Pregnant Dammit", but it has literally nothing to do with the rest. (not even references.)
Disclaimer: Apparently Wade's infiltration of Marvel has gotten behind. (At least that's what I'm assuming as he refuses to talk about it. *shudders. Wade not talking*) So at this point still, NO. I DON'T OWN ANY OF THE TRADEMARKS, CHARACTERS, ET CETERA BELOW.
Remy was sitting on the couch in the Rec Room, a few others idly playing pool or air hockey or simply chatting throughout the room. He was watching TV for the time being, Rogue having kicked him out because apparently he smelled funny and was giving the baby a headache. Sighing wearily, he flipped past yet another cheesy sit-com that had come on.
A few minutes later, Rogue walked in, looking quite upset, and stood in front of her husband.
"Hey, petite, care t' join me?" The Cajun offered, spreading his arms in an open invitation.
"Remy, Ah need to ask you somethin'," She told him softly.
"'Course, chere, what is it?" He inquired, straightening up a little and having no idea what he was getting himself into.
"Now, Ah want ya' to be honest with me." She began, then, standing up tall, she said the simple phrase of,
"Am Ah fat?"
The whole room went dead silent, gaping at the scene before them. This was the question, the question. The question more terrifying to a man than anything else in the world. The question that was more horrifying than facing an army single-handedly. The question more fearsome than battling an alligator in the treacherous jungle-river whilst not being able to reach the ground beneath the water with your feet and be stably supported. The question more hair-raising than being lost in the Yukon at night and hearing wolves swiftly drawing near. And Rogue asked it when she was pregnant.
You think most men fear this question? You think this is the most important question a man could ever answer in his life as it will determine whether he will live for another day or not? Just imagine being asked it when your wife is pregnant. If this question was more horrifying than facing an army single-handedly, then being asked by a pregnant woman was more horrifying than facing an army of bloodthirsty, vengeance-seeking cannibals single-handedly. If being asked this question was more fearsome than battling an alligator in a deep pool of water, than being asked this question by a pregnant woman was more fearsome than battling an alligator in quicksand. Blind. If this question was more hair-raising than being lost in the Yukon at night and knowing wolves were coming, then this question coming from a pregnant woman's mouth was more hair-raising than than being so numb with cold that you lost all of the use of your extremities, and it was darker than black itself as the wolves advanced toward you, the only sense still in use being hearing which presented their eerie howls.
Coming from a man who had been in the hands of Mr. Sinister, both to operated on and to do his bidding. Coming from a man who had killed his brother in law at his own wedding. Coming from a man who had faced the massacre of the Morlocks first-hand. Coming from a man whose job was to risk his life for the greater good most ever day. This. This. This was the most terrifying moment of his entire life.
Remy froze, his eyes widening, and a flurry of cuss words running through his mind. He had prepared for this question, yes, but never, never, not even in his wildest dreams, had it occurred to him she would spring it on him while pregnant.
After staring at her like a deer in the headlights for several beats, he relaxed into an easy smile,
"Ah, ma cherie, ya' be beautiful jus' da way ya' are," He told her confidently, rising to his feet and trying to look relaxed.
She pouted her lower lip so it extended further than normal and spread out her arms so he could get a full view of her stomach.
"Ya' didn't answer my question!" She pointed out, staring at him before bursting into tears. "Ya're jus' avoidin' it because ya' do think Ah'm fat! Ya' think Ah'm fat an'-an' ugly, an' awful!" She wailed.
"Non, non, not at all, chere," He told her hastily, gently pressing her arms back to her sides so he could easily hold both of her shoulders in a gentle clutch.
"Yes, yes ya' do! Ya' think Ah'm fat! An' Ah am! Ah'm fat! Ya'll might as well call me 'blubber-belly' from now on!"
"Non, petite, o' course not. Ya' ain't fat at all. Ya' be a beautiful size. I wouldn't trade your current weight for anythin' in da world," he assured her tenderly, his brain racing at what to say to calm her down.
"Ah'm fat though! Look at my stomach! Ah can't even see my toes!" She cried, looking down to make the point and craning her neck in failed attempt to view her feet.
"Ya' be pregnant, dat jus' be da baby. Ya' be gorgeous da way ya' are." He encouraged.
She hiccuped, at last regaining control of at least some of her composure.
"Ya' really think so?" She whimpered pitifully.
"O' course I do, petite. Have I ever lied t' ya' before?" Remy questioned patiently, his stress beginning to alleviate as he started to relax, feeling perhaps he managed to diffuse the situation.
She sniffed, reaching up and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "No," She admitted despairingly.
"An' I ain't lyin' now. Ya' be da perfect size for dis ol' Cajun. Besides, ya' carryin' da life o' my little child. Any extra belly ya' might have now is even more beautiful dan da flattes' stomach in da worl'."
She nodded weakly, melting into his body, he instantly taking the initiative to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly.
He kissed the top of her head lovingly. "Feel better, petite?"
She nodded silently against his chest, and Remy breathed a sigh of relief. He had just survived it. The question. The most terrifying experience of his life.
I hope this fun little one-shot was able to give you at least a moment of joy:) I don't really know a guys' appropriate answer for this time-bomb of a question, so I hope how Remy handled it was satisfactory and realistic:) As usual, if you happen to have a better title in mind feel free to let me know and I will take it into consideration.
Know what time it is? You guessed it! Impromptu poem time!
I won't ask you to comment on my current weight,
I merely have one request in my mind,
If you this hope you would satiate,
And simply review this one blessed time!
Hmm. I think my poems are getting weirder. Oh well, favorites and reviews are much appreciated:)