Next Time, I'm Going to Hawaii!

by Ana Lyssie Cotton

Disclaimer: Any characters mentioned in here do not belong to me. They belong to Marvel, who is using them sorely, but that's another rant. Not making any money, etc, blah.

This fic is dedicated to SKayaKayleeKayJayJayaKayaMookwriterExtraordinaire. Happy birthday, baby! =)

Logan was a loner by nature, slightly stolid as the occassion arose. And, currently, at a loss. The child--baby--had appeared on the doorstep of his cabin abode two hours before. Currently, it was sobbing softly and pitifully and looking at him like it was all his fault. Which, technically it was. If you didn't discount the fact that the child looked like the spawn of a demon. And smelled like one, too.

That might have been the unchanged diaper, of course. Logan growled softly and the kid shushed. For about thirty picoseconds. Then it started up again. It. Logan scowled and gave in.

His cabin was out in the wilderness, stocked with only the bare essentials (including a shower, though. If there was ONE thing he'd learned while in America, it was that showers were wonderful things) and a pallet in front of the fireplace. The kid was in a basket next to said pallet.

The pantry contained nothing useful in changing a diaper. Except the extra-strength GLAD trash bags. He blessed Fate (and Jean Grey-Summers) for their foresight. However, finding a spare diaper... Jean hadn't planned his vacation to have babies along with it. So, no diapers. He grimaced and found a couple straight pins and one of his favorite t-shirts.

"Hush, you little bugger," he muttered, wishing Wisdom hadn't been down for a card game the other night. Damned Brit's language rubbed off on anyone. Of course, if Pete were still about, he'd be able to get rid of the kid easier.

The diaper went on in the same way that a saddle goes on an elephant. Or rather, badly. It looked like the kid was wearing one of his old shirts.

Which he was. Logan yelped as he stuck himself with one of the pins, then grimaced. Here he was, big bad X-Man, and a little pinprick had him crying. He scowled. Kids, babies, were not supposed to unsettle him like this. As that thought began wending it's way to somewhere useful, it got distracted and sidetracked as the baby began crying again.

At least he knew the kid was a boy, now. And he was getting very upset. And hungry, Logan bet. He sighed. He had a very bad feeling he'd be doing a lot of that.


It had been two days. Two days of diapers and baths and wet clothing and food spit up all over his cabin. Logan growled to himself as he washed a set of towels for the hundredth time. The kid was beginning to drive him insane. More insane, anyway.


There it was again. He reached up and scratched his head, there really wasn't anything to do but give in, though. Back to civilisation he'd go. He grimaced. It wasn't what he wanted to do. He'd come out to the cabin for a BREAK, dammit.


Of course, peace wasn't exactly what the screaming child engendered. Chaos, maybe. Ear-splitting howls also made for a good migraine. His healing factor dealt with it, though. And then it came back. And was dealt with. And came back. The vicious cycle was slowly driving him to think of doing things like shoving nails into his ear drums to stop the pain.


"Hush, kid. It's almost done." He glanced at the pot on the stove which was finally beginning to boil. A watched pot did indeed not boil, he'd found. At least, not fast enough. And an unwatched pot boiled over. He'd ruined two pans that way. He grimaced again. He wasn't sleeping enough, either. The healing factor was making up for that, but...


Logan reached in and pulled the makeshift bottle out of the pan. In reality, it was an old canning jar with the top screwed down and a rubber glove substituted for the nipple he didn't have. At least, that was the theory. On occassion, the seal broke and spilled milk all over himself and the kid. Who would then proceed to--


"Hush. Here ya go." He bent over the makeshift crib he'd rigged of a stack of wood and his blankets. It had been a bit chilly without them the last two nights. When he'd been able to sleep, that is.

The kid gurgled at him and slipped the teet into his mouth. And began suckling. Logan held his breath, waiting for the fussy little brat to spit it out and scream. Apparently, the Gods were feeling merciful, though, 'cause he didn't.

(Actually, at that moment, the Gods were off playing a very involved game of mini-golf through the lower reaches of the Trion Nebula. Mercury was winning. But that's a story for another day).

Forty minutes later, Logan had burped, changed and bedded the baby down for the... evening. Since he never made it more than four hours without waking up demanding more food. Logan sighed, something he had done often in the last two days. He really hated the thought of going back to civilisation. But it had to be done.

Of course, the big problem was trekking the fifteen miles through the snow into town. With the kid in tow. He laid down on the pallet and tried to get warm while mulling the problem over in his mind. The kid had no clothes, except a few towels and several of his favorite t-shirts. Logan himself only had a small jacket for the trek back (healing factors tend to not make you worry about frostbite).

He turned on his side and pillowed his head on his arm. Even if he made it into town with the kid, he'd have to immediately find the store and get him food. Of course, by then, he'd need a new diaper, too. Logan wrinkled his nose and wished, not for the first time, that he had a less acute sense of smell.

Babies are not clean individuals. They get dirty 30.2 seconds after being dried from their bath. This one was no exception and Logan had even tried airing the cabin out on occassion. It didn't help that the sub-zero temps had made the child screach for an hour afterwards.

He felt almost in despair of ever getting the kid to be quiet enough for him to have a decent amount of sleep. Sleep that wasn't haunted by worries over where the kid was from, or whether the parent--or parents--were out in the snow *right now* freezing to death, and--



It had now been ten days since the kid first arrived. The cabin was in shambles, bedding piled all over the room as portions became unusable and had to be washed. One night the kid had seemed sick, that had kept Logan awake the entire night. With the baby screaming the entire time. He'd nearly done horrid things to the kid, then had fought down the berserker rage and felt immensely guilty for two days afterwards.

Logan had not been able to rig up enough clothing and extra diaper stuff to make the trip into town. Yet. He was hoping he'd be able to make it later that day. REALLY hoping. If he didn't, he really wasn't sure he'd last another night with the kid. He was a demanding little brat.

The muscular X-Man yawned and leaned against the counter, rubbing his eyes blearily. Luckily, he'd gotten the kid down for a nap a few moments ago. Maybe he'd be able to nap. That lovely thought was all it took and his head drooped down to his chest. And Logan fell asleep standing up.


A snowspeeder screeched to a halt in the middle of the clearing. The passengers on board stared at the cabin in front of them for a moment, then stood up and stepped towards it.

"Jubilee, are you SURE this is a good idea?"

"Duh, Paige, like, Logan would NEVER turn me away. Besides," She shrugged, "It's his birthday today, of COURSE he's going to want to see his favorite fire cracker."

"Well, if you say so." Paige shrugged her snowsuit covered shoulders and got behind Jubilee. "Just in case, though..."

Jubilee knocked. After a few moments of no sound from inside the cabin, she knocked again. When there was still no sound, she shrugged and tried the door. "Hello? Wolvie, you there?"

And then Paige, peering past her shoulder, took in the state of the cabin. "Oh mah GOD. Ew."

"Ick." Jubes stepped back, holding her nose. "Like, the pong on that place is rancid."

A whiff wafted itself over to Paige who gagged and backed away. "Ugh. Do you think he's still in there?"

"In there? Wolvie has a gooood sense of smell, he'd die in that." She paused, uncertain. "I think." They both studied the open door for a moment, then sighed. "I'll go first," And Jubilee stepped back up to the door, took a deep breath and stepped into the cabin.


Logan found himself staring blearily at the ceiling as cold air rushed into the cabin and swirled around him. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was making the decision to drag the brat to town, whether it survived the trip or not. And then he'd fallen asleep.

"Wolvie?" A concerned face framed in black and yellow peered down at him. "Wolvie, you look like shit."


"What, Paige, think I should be kind to him? Nah," the pipsqueak Asian turned back to Logan. "Well, c'mon, you smelly old man, we better get you somewhere you can take a bath. I mean, EW."

"Don't forget the baby." Logan mumbled as he was dragged to his feet and stumbled to the door.

"Baby? What baby? Jubilee, I think he's gone nuts again." Paige whispered.

"Ya think? Nah, I'll check. Get him packed onto the 'speeder."

Jubilee searched the small cabin cursorily, but still found signs of the baby's habitation. But no baby. Not a peep, nor a hair, nor a dirty--well, several dirty diapers, but none that were occupied. Having found nothing, she grabbed Logan's jacket and checked that everything was locked down as well as it could be in the morass. And left, breathing more easily as she entered the cleaner air of the outside world.


In a nether dimension, a worried father looked down at his son and sighed. "I'm sorry about that. Did you have fun?"

The baby burbled at him happily, and then went back to chewing on the edge of Logan's t-shirt.

D'Spayre sighed happily and settled deeper into his throne. "That's good, I needed to take a vacation," as the baby looked like it was about to cry, he hastily added, "Oh, not from you, but... A man needs a break, every so often. This world is so unkind to single fathers." He sighed again and draped a blanket over his son.


===== 'Innuendo and out the other. (Acetal)'