Beignets and Cajuns
Summary: Remy drags Bobby and Kurt out for beignets. Chaos ensues.
Dicslaimer! Marvel not mine, Crescent City not mine. Don' bug m', non?
AN: I just thought it would be funny. Got the idea while Remy-rambling. It's two AM on a Wednesday night and I have to be up at literally, dawn, so why I'm doing this now I haven't a flaming clue. Read and review. And then go eat some beignets. Which is pronounced ben-yay, as Bobby proves.
Beignets and Cajuns
"C'mon, mes copains, it'll be fun!"
"What's a benyay?"
"Beignet. 'S a sor' o' French t'ing. Kind'a like a donut... but not, y'know?"
"Nein, mein freunde, I am afraid I do not."
"Come on, den, we go and get us some beignets and we got de answer to all o' life's problems!"
"I am going to regret this..."
"Jamais!"
The three of them walked down the street towards Crescent City Beignets. The authentic Cajun turned to his friends with a grin as they apporached the purple store front.
"S'not N'orlins beignets, but dey be pretty good here. C'mon, mes chers, le's go get some o' de nummies," he told them.
"Nummies?" asked Bobby doubtfully.
Kurt shook his blue-haired head, thankful once again for the blessing of an image inducer. "I vill not go in zere until you tell me vat a beignet is."
"You be seein' once we in, cher."
"Do not call me zat."
"Wh' not, cher?" Remy tossed back to his furry friend with a grin. Kurt just rolled his eyes.
Bobby looked into the store with interest. "Are they junk-type food?"
"Oui. Now, in de store!"
Niether Kurt nor Bobby was quite certain as to how Remy had conned them into coming here for some French pastry, much less taking the Blackbird to bring them to Chicago. They walked into the brightly-lit cafe-style restaurant, looking warily around for some description of a beignet. Bobby turned to Remy and spoke.
"Are they good frozen?"
Remy tossed him a death glare. "A stale beignet be illegal in a lot o' de states. Dey say it be a weapon. Dey gotta be hot. S' hot dey burn de mout'."
"Oh." Damn, Bobby though. There goes THAT idea. Maybe I can freeze Remy's... wait, no. No use of powers in public. Superdamn.
Kurt looked at Remy cautiously. "Are you sure zat zis was a good idea, mein freunde?"
"O' course! Now sit y'sels down an' Remy be gettin' de beignets." He pushed them into chairs at the window-counter, walking up to the counter and placing an order for an obscene amount of beignets. The cashier looked at him funny when he said he wanted twenty for only three people in such a weird accent. Remy caught the look on her face and grinned.
Once the pastries were cooked and all nice and puffy and covered in powdered sugar, he carried the large plate back to his friends. He sat on Kurt's left side and set the plate in the middle.
"Dere. Beignets."
Bobby picked one up, eyeing it curiously. He poked it with a finger and squinted at it.
"Bobby, cher, 's not a lump o' clay. C'est un beignet. Eat it before it gets trop cold, or else it won' be no good." Bobby shrugged, bringing the thing to his mouth and taking a bite out of the corner.
A moment later it fell to the counter in a puff of white powder as Bobby's eyes widened and he waves at his mouth. Common sense quickly took control as he iced over the inside of his mouth, but his tongue would be sore for an hour or two. He tossed Remy an extremely dirty look as the Cajun started eating his own of the evil hole-less donut things with seemingly no care for the extreme temperature of the thing.
Kurt watched Bobby and lifted one off the tray for himself, turning to look at Remy to see how the Cajun was faring. He looked at his own pastry and got the bright idea to blow on it to cool it off.
Right at Remy.
The red-eyed man was sitting there, beignet halfway to his mouth, covered in a layer of white powder. Bobby whooped with laughter and Kurt turned red with embarrasment. "Oh I am sorry! I vas not thinking. I did not mean to - "
He was cut off by Remy's joining into Bobby's laughter as the Cajun dusted off his face and shoulders. "C'est pas un problem, mon cher. Jus' don' be doin' dat again, non? Never blow on de beignets t' cool dem off." Remy grinned, taking another bite of his own beignet and ignoring the cloud that still hung around his head.
Bobby picked up his much-abused beignet, hoping it was cooler now. He opened his mouth to take a bite just as he inhaled.
Dumb.
He coughed on the thing, gasping for breath as the cruel powder tortured him. He got his breath back quickly enough, Kurt pounding him on the back. Remy waited to see if he was alright before bursting into laughter.
"Oh, cher, never inhale when y' take a bite, eit'er. Bad t'ings gon' happen if'n y' do dat," he wheezed through his mirth.
Bobby narrowed his eyes, about to freeze the Cajun's beignet, rules be damned, but then he realized the humor of the situation and grinned.
They ate their beignets in peace after that, the two new initiates realizing that when one was careful, the things were quite tasty.
They took a large bag home with them at Bobby's insistence; Remy complained that they'd be stale by then and that it was no use in bothering but Bobby insisted on giving some to the rest of the crew. Remy just shook his head and muttered something about beignet abuse laws. Kurt smiled a little as they hopped into the plane.
All in all, despite Remy's being thoroughly insane, the night hadn't been too bad. At least they hadn't been subjected to another of the Cajun's fits of barhopping.
He liked beignets, too.
Whatever the hell they were.
The end.
Go eat a beignet.
Afternotes: Minor sequel possible, about all the faux pas that the rest of the X-Men make while trying to eat the stale things. Either that or someone will get injured by a flying stale beignet. Your choice. Tell me in your review. *hint, hint, nudge, nudge, whack you upside the head so you get the picture*
Summary: Remy drags Bobby and Kurt out for beignets. Chaos ensues.
Dicslaimer! Marvel not mine, Crescent City not mine. Don' bug m', non?
AN: I just thought it would be funny. Got the idea while Remy-rambling. It's two AM on a Wednesday night and I have to be up at literally, dawn, so why I'm doing this now I haven't a flaming clue. Read and review. And then go eat some beignets. Which is pronounced ben-yay, as Bobby proves.
Beignets and Cajuns
"C'mon, mes copains, it'll be fun!"
"What's a benyay?"
"Beignet. 'S a sor' o' French t'ing. Kind'a like a donut... but not, y'know?"
"Nein, mein freunde, I am afraid I do not."
"Come on, den, we go and get us some beignets and we got de answer to all o' life's problems!"
"I am going to regret this..."
"Jamais!"
The three of them walked down the street towards Crescent City Beignets. The authentic Cajun turned to his friends with a grin as they apporached the purple store front.
"S'not N'orlins beignets, but dey be pretty good here. C'mon, mes chers, le's go get some o' de nummies," he told them.
"Nummies?" asked Bobby doubtfully.
Kurt shook his blue-haired head, thankful once again for the blessing of an image inducer. "I vill not go in zere until you tell me vat a beignet is."
"You be seein' once we in, cher."
"Do not call me zat."
"Wh' not, cher?" Remy tossed back to his furry friend with a grin. Kurt just rolled his eyes.
Bobby looked into the store with interest. "Are they junk-type food?"
"Oui. Now, in de store!"
Niether Kurt nor Bobby was quite certain as to how Remy had conned them into coming here for some French pastry, much less taking the Blackbird to bring them to Chicago. They walked into the brightly-lit cafe-style restaurant, looking warily around for some description of a beignet. Bobby turned to Remy and spoke.
"Are they good frozen?"
Remy tossed him a death glare. "A stale beignet be illegal in a lot o' de states. Dey say it be a weapon. Dey gotta be hot. S' hot dey burn de mout'."
"Oh." Damn, Bobby though. There goes THAT idea. Maybe I can freeze Remy's... wait, no. No use of powers in public. Superdamn.
Kurt looked at Remy cautiously. "Are you sure zat zis was a good idea, mein freunde?"
"O' course! Now sit y'sels down an' Remy be gettin' de beignets." He pushed them into chairs at the window-counter, walking up to the counter and placing an order for an obscene amount of beignets. The cashier looked at him funny when he said he wanted twenty for only three people in such a weird accent. Remy caught the look on her face and grinned.
Once the pastries were cooked and all nice and puffy and covered in powdered sugar, he carried the large plate back to his friends. He sat on Kurt's left side and set the plate in the middle.
"Dere. Beignets."
Bobby picked one up, eyeing it curiously. He poked it with a finger and squinted at it.
"Bobby, cher, 's not a lump o' clay. C'est un beignet. Eat it before it gets trop cold, or else it won' be no good." Bobby shrugged, bringing the thing to his mouth and taking a bite out of the corner.
A moment later it fell to the counter in a puff of white powder as Bobby's eyes widened and he waves at his mouth. Common sense quickly took control as he iced over the inside of his mouth, but his tongue would be sore for an hour or two. He tossed Remy an extremely dirty look as the Cajun started eating his own of the evil hole-less donut things with seemingly no care for the extreme temperature of the thing.
Kurt watched Bobby and lifted one off the tray for himself, turning to look at Remy to see how the Cajun was faring. He looked at his own pastry and got the bright idea to blow on it to cool it off.
Right at Remy.
The red-eyed man was sitting there, beignet halfway to his mouth, covered in a layer of white powder. Bobby whooped with laughter and Kurt turned red with embarrasment. "Oh I am sorry! I vas not thinking. I did not mean to - "
He was cut off by Remy's joining into Bobby's laughter as the Cajun dusted off his face and shoulders. "C'est pas un problem, mon cher. Jus' don' be doin' dat again, non? Never blow on de beignets t' cool dem off." Remy grinned, taking another bite of his own beignet and ignoring the cloud that still hung around his head.
Bobby picked up his much-abused beignet, hoping it was cooler now. He opened his mouth to take a bite just as he inhaled.
Dumb.
He coughed on the thing, gasping for breath as the cruel powder tortured him. He got his breath back quickly enough, Kurt pounding him on the back. Remy waited to see if he was alright before bursting into laughter.
"Oh, cher, never inhale when y' take a bite, eit'er. Bad t'ings gon' happen if'n y' do dat," he wheezed through his mirth.
Bobby narrowed his eyes, about to freeze the Cajun's beignet, rules be damned, but then he realized the humor of the situation and grinned.
They ate their beignets in peace after that, the two new initiates realizing that when one was careful, the things were quite tasty.
They took a large bag home with them at Bobby's insistence; Remy complained that they'd be stale by then and that it was no use in bothering but Bobby insisted on giving some to the rest of the crew. Remy just shook his head and muttered something about beignet abuse laws. Kurt smiled a little as they hopped into the plane.
All in all, despite Remy's being thoroughly insane, the night hadn't been too bad. At least they hadn't been subjected to another of the Cajun's fits of barhopping.
He liked beignets, too.
Whatever the hell they were.
The end.
Go eat a beignet.
Afternotes: Minor sequel possible, about all the faux pas that the rest of the X-Men make while trying to eat the stale things. Either that or someone will get injured by a flying stale beignet. Your choice. Tell me in your review. *hint, hint, nudge, nudge, whack you upside the head so you get the picture*
