Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been exactly two days since the new kid arrived, and Gambit had to admit it has been the most amusing time since he got to this place. It was like watching a kitten explore a new house for the first time. To be honest, he was a lot like a cat in human form, not the least of which because he had pointed ears, golden slit eyes, fur covering his whole body, and a tail. He also crouched like a cat though, moved a bit like one too, and got into EVERYTHING like one. Hell he was pretty sure he heard him purring when he gave everyone a big hug in greeting after realizing he was safe here. 

Gambit heard a gasp and the start of music playing that snapped him from his thoughts back to observing the blue boy on the other side of the room. He was cowering in surprise behind an armchair, carefully peeking out from behind it to marvel at a special electric lamp with a motor and music box in it he had found and activated. It was a ceramic carousel with the light in the canopy and little porcelain horses that moved up and down in a circle as the music played, a cover of “After the Ball”. Remy did his best to stifle a snort. His name was Kurt Wagner. A german immigrant and mutant that had lived his whole life isolated to a little catholic town in the middle of nowhere, Iowa, a place still stuck well in the 1800s. He had never seen a city, never seen electricity, never seen an automobile, and the most he'd seen of the modern world was the illustrations he'd seen in the Sears Catalogue that the boy arrived clutching with his bible as if they were of equal importance. Honestly, it might be considering Remy had seen him frequently referencing like it was an encyclopedia when he encountered something new, which was frequently. 

“Es ist wunderschön! Was ist das für ein Ding?” he heard the boy say as gently brought one of his large fingers to the saddle of one of the horses.

“Gonna have to repeat dat, mon ami,” Remy said with a smirk, “Ah speak French, not German.”

Kurt looked up, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “S-sorry,” he responded in his thick accent, “I…vhat is it? Is very…pretty?” He gestured to the lamp not making eye contact.

“Is a lamp. Professor Logan got it fo Morph fo Christmas,” he said simply.

“But it plays music? Und I did not vind it up,” he asks. 

“Is electric,” he responds, “instead o needin windin up, da electric motor inside turns da music box gears. Kinda like if you forced da gears ta move forward nstead o windin n lettin go.”

Kurt nodded, staring at it. “zis place is full of suprises…everyvhere I go. It feels like…,” he says as he continues to watch it, “Im in an entire ozer vorld sometimes.” He chuckles to himself. “I feel like I am dorothy sometimes…from ze book, ‘Ze Vizard of Oz”... Have you read it?” he asks looking up, “ zough I guess I vas never in Kansas…haha”

Remy smiled. “Yeah Ah know it,” he says, “So if you be Dorothy, who be everybody else? N ya better not make me da wicked witch of da East.”

Kurt blanched. “Ah…I hadn't thought of zat…” he says awkwardly, trying to think of something to say.

“Ohhhh Ah get it, Ah'm Todo to ya den,” he teases, crossing his arms and tutting, “wooow…real nice o ya…”

“Nein nein!!!” Kurt exclaims waving his hands franticly, “I never said zat! You aren't To-”

“Ah just be yanken ya tail, mon ami!” Gambit assured. 

Kurt gave him a confused look before glancing down at his tail. He holds it in his hands before looking back at Gambit, still confused and very concerned now. “you aren't?” He says, “But also, please don't do zat? It vould hurt…”

Remy sighed. “It's just a turn o phrase mon ami…” he explains, “I was jokin wit ya.”

Kurt looked away, incredibly embarrassed now, squeezing his own tail. “Ah…I see…sorry,” he mutters, “I…don't know many English Idioms yet. Ve mostly speak German at home…as does everyone else…”

Remy gave him a sympathetic look. “Dis place must really feel like Oz to ya den…” he responds.

“Ja…” he sighs, moving to sit down in the arm chair and continue to watch the carousel turn, “You could say zat…”

Remy's brow knit together as he saw seemingly all the energy he had been showing the past few days suddenly escape from his body like a deflating balloon. The kid suddenly looked exhausted…“... You ok mon ami?” He asks.

Kurt shrugs, flicking his tail back and fourth. “Don't get me vrong…zis place is amazing but…” he starts, “... Everyzing is so different here. It is like ze whole vorld is flipped upside down…its almost too much.” “I like it here. I love ze art, ze teachers, ze tecnology, ze food, und people zat are like me for once…” he continued, “But sometimes, It all feels to be too much. Too different. No matter how velcoming people are, I feel like I'm not supposed to be here…”

Remy got up and walked over to him, patting his shoulder a little. “Cheer up is only been a few days, ya will get used ta tings soon enough,” he offers.

“... How am I going to attend school?” Kurt asks, “Or church…or do errands…vill I even be able to leave ze Institute? Vhat if I scare somevon on accident and get everyone in trouble?... I really jumped into zis vithout zinking…I just really really didn't vant to feel alone anymore. But I still feel like zat in a whole new vay…” Kurt seemed to realize he said all that out loud. “S-sorry,” he muttered, “I shouldn't burden you vith mein vorries…”

“Non, ya good. Trust me,” Remy responds no longer smiling. Gambit knew all to well what having a visible mutation could put you in danger wise. He was lucky the orphanage took him in, and even luckier Jean Luc found him. There was a good chance he wouldnt still be alive otherwise. “We figure dis stuff out ok?” He offers, “Ah don tink da professor woulda brought ya here just take keep ya cooped up.” That didn't garner much of a response aside from a shrug. “Sides ah know how ya feel,” he adds. Kurt looks up in confusion, “ah be from da deep south. Everytin was different fo me too, especially da weathah, lemme tell ya. Ah know what it like to feel like a stranger in a strange land. We in dis tagether n ah’ll help ya figure tings out too.”

Kurt blinks before smiling. “Danke. Er, thank you,” he says, “zat is very kind of you to offer.”

Remy shrugs and leans away, crossing his arms. “Eh gotta make up fo mah sins somehow,” he retorts, causing Kurt to laugh, “Ya look hungry. Wanna get a snack from de kitchen? We got a refrigerator.”

Kurt suddenly gained his excited energy back, his tail flicking happily. “Really? Zats awesome!” he says jumping up, “Vill you show me how it vorks vhile ve eat?”

Remy chuckled as Kurt followed him out of the room, “sorry, cant. Forge'll kill me iffin ah break it. Dat ting is expensive!”

“oh come on!!! You can at least explain it right?” the impish blue child pleaded. The two left the room, forgetting to turn off the lamp, much to the annoyance of whoever finds it still playing at one in the morning.

Chapter Text

As he looked on in horror at the scene before him, Remy realized he regretted showing the blue farm boy where everything was in the kitchen during their tour of if. Why? Because apparently the kid knew his way around the kitchen as well as Remy. Why was that a bad thing? Because he had incredibly niche traditional tastes. And now he was looking on in bewilderment at the weird concoction he was just about finishing up.  

It had started out innocently. They had planted watermelon this year in the garden, and they were still getting some ready to be harvested despite it being late August. Remy had planned on using them tonight as part of a fancy jello dessert he heard of. Kurt had offered to help them however, and then asked if he could have one to make one of his favorite “summertime snack”. How could he say no? Not only had he helped out himself, but he also was a master of giving puppy dog eyes. No wonder his adoptive parents abandoned everything they knew and moved across the world for him when they knew him for only a few weeks, Remy had thought, stick around him long enough you might start wanting to take bullets for the lovable fur ball.

However the furball was much less lovable now that he had taken Remy's mason jars-his good mason jars- and his pickling supplies to create one of the most disgusting things he could imagine: pickled watermelon. 

Remy was no hypocrite, he would admit he put a pinch of salt on his watermelon to make it sweeter. Everyone down south did. And he knew of Black neighbors when he was a kid that would pickle the rinds, but he would insist those things were different. You pickled watermelon rinds to make them edible and to save waste. The rinds had little flavor naturally, so it was no different than pickling cucumbers, just a different texture. Kurt was not only pickling the rinds but the sweet red meat of the fruit itself. And there was a big big difference between adding a pinch of salt to a large slice of watermelon, and cutting it up and soaking sweet fruit for a day or more in vinegar, salt, dill, and half the spice rack!

Kurt looked up from where he was crouching on the stool carefully cutting watermelon and yet still getting juice all over himself in the process. He smiled and waved his hand. “Guten tag! Don't vorry I vill clean up ze mess!” he chirps.

Remy blinks. “Ahm sorry, care to explain what the hell you are doin?” he questions, “ah thought you were makin a summer time treat, not an unholy abomination…” Remy nearly gags as he looks through the supplies and notices how much mustard seed is being used. Dear lord.

Kurt cocked his head to the side. “But it is? I love zese back home! Alzough zey are best made vith vinter melons,” he replies, “have you never had pickled melon before?” 

“Non,” he admits, “but de smell ain't exactly givin me high hopes…”

Kurt frowns. “So? Lots of smelly things taste gutt! Cheeses, vine, fish…” he points out.

“Look all ah know is vinegar and sugar aint always a great combo,” he says, “especially considerin vinegar flavors usually tell ya sometin sweet gon bad…most people are built not ta like it.”

“Zere are sveet pickles…” Kurt points out, crossing his arms, “people eat zose…”

“yeah but das different! Ya ain't sweetenin da cucumber befo ya pickle it, ya sweeten it up afta,” he responds, “n frankly, not a big fan o dem either…”

Kurt pouted. “I promise it is not zat bad!” He replied then grabs a jar with his tail from the first batch he made, “Here try von. It von’t be ze best but it has been a few hours since I jarred it, so you should be able to taste ze seasoning.” He opened the jar and set it before Remy. 

Remy scrunched his nose and pushed the jar away. “Tanks but no tanks,” he replies with a chuff, “you enjoy em all ya want but dey ain't fo me.”

“But you haven't even tried vone before!” Kurt says pushing the jar back, “how vill you know you don't like it if you don't try it!”

“Look you got your cultural foods n ah got mine,” remy replies pushing it back, “ah ain't gonna bug ya more about it but ah aint eatin it.”

“Aren't you ze von who likes eating vater bugs?” kurt snipped with a raised eyebrow, pushing it back, “you insisted I try vone on Tuesday night!”

Remy started to get furious. “Dat was crawdads n you know dem be good eats! Iowa got crawdads!” He snapped, shoving the jar back. 

“Yes but ve don't eat zem, ve use zem as fishing bait! You insisted I try one anyvays!” Jar gets shoved to Remy.

“You enjoyed it! Especially wit all dat horse radish Ah prepared!” The jar is shoved back to kurt. 

“Isn't zat just an argument for vhy you should try zese?!” Jar shoved to Remy.

“Non its-”

“Hey guys everything ok? What are you doing-jesus!” Both turned to see Scott standing in the doorway of the kitchen looking utterly confused. “Are you…pickling watermelon?!?!” He questioned. 

Kurt averted his eyes. “Ja…”

“... Why?!” Scott asked further, a look of concern on his face.

Kurt closed his eyes and bowed his head. Gambit's lips pursed. Scott was a good guy, and Gambit knew Kurt already looked up to Scott. They had hit it off right away and the blue boy had thought of him as incredibly fashionable and admirable(Gambit personally thought summers was a total square but his opinion didn't matter at the moment). But he also knew Scott was an incredibly picky eater and judgmental of weird foods. He remembered how he had looked at Remy like he was crazy when he admitted to eating Alligator and muskrat meat in the past…he imagined a similar reaction was coming. It didn't bother him that much, Scott was always an uptight prick from Remy's perspective…but Kurt?

And so he grabbed a fork and stabbed it to the jar pulling out a pickled chunk of water melon and stuffing it into his mouth. “Cause it delicious!,” he exclaims, popping another into his mouth and giving an over the top reaction, “Ya'll should try it too. Perfection!” delicious isn't quite how Remy would describe it, but it was better than he was expecting. He didn't feel like gagging or making a face. The flavor was an…ok combination!

Kurt blinked at him in surprise before Scott spoke again. “Really? I guess I'll try it if the professional chef likes it,” Scott said, moving to pop one in his mouth. He frowned as he ate it but smiled afterwards. “Eh…not my favorite,” he admits, “but I can get why people like it! Thanks for letting me try something new!” He then waves before leaving the kitchen. 

“... Danke,” Kurt said after a minute, “For acting like you liked it in front of Scott.”

“Eh…” Remy responds popping another one in his mouth, “it's weird but it weren't a lie. It's ok. Not mah favorite but…its sometin ah would be willin ta eat again.”

Kurt lit up, a playful look in his eye. “Haha! I knew it! I knew you vould like it!!!” he cries and points his index fingers at Remy, his tail swishing back and forth. 

Remy smirked. “Yeah ya got me…ya bettah be willin ta share den,” Gambit says. 

“But of course mein friend!” Kurt says, “ you zink I can finish all of zese meinself? velcome to ze veird snack club!” 

Remy rolled his eyes, continuing to smile. “Merci. Ok now les help ya clean up, eh mon ami?” He responds and grabs a hand towel. Kurt smiled, hopping down to grab a basin for water.  

Chapter Text

“are ve certain zis is mein best option?” Kurt squirmed in his seat in front of the mirror, looking incredibly uncomfortable. The boy looked as if he expected police to bust into the room at any time. 

“It's not so bad Kurt,” Jean assures, “Scott and Remy have to hide their mutations with disguises too!”

“Ja but all zey need are sunglasses!” Kurt explained, “zey don't have to shave zeir faces and vear rouge! Not even mein mutter vears rouge!” He gripped his tail tightly. “Gott im Himmel! Vhat vould mein parents say if zey found out?! Vould zey zink I became a streetvalker?! Zey vould never vant to speak to me again!!” He was now clutching his tail anxiously. 

Remy had to stop himself from snickering. He knew this was going to be entertaining to see. Little country boy getting done up for the first time in his life with stage makeup? Oh he wouldn't miss this for the world!...Well technically he was there to make sure nothing went wrong considering a shaving razor was going to be used, but mostly he just wanted to see how ridiculous Kurt’s reactions got. He was hoping for at least one trying to bathe a cat moment. 

“Kurt no one will think that,” Jean assures.

“Yeah Kurt don you worry none,” he saunters over from his corner and pinches his cheek, “ya more likely ta get mistaken for a clown ah think!”

Kurt smacks his hand away as Gambit laughs and Jean glares at him. “Zat isn't funny…”

“What ain't funny? Clowns? Clowns are HILARIOUS mon ami,” Remy responds.

Jean rolls her eyes. “Ignore him Kurt. Make up isn't so weird anymore. Lots of girls wear it! I mean, I even wear a little to hide my blemishes!” she says.

Kurt pouts and curls up onto the stool. “Does Scott wear it?” he asks, giving her a hard look. 

Jean looked away and rubbed her arm. “Well…no…” she admits.

“I've worn it befo,” Gambit says with a casual shrug.

Kurt and Jean both looked at him in surprise. “really?” he asked, some relief in his voice, “It's not veird to vere make up?”

“nah!” Gambit replied, “Mah brother Henri, mah cousins, n ah would do it all de time…when we’d dress up as a group o coquettes n sneak inta parties ta steal liquor! We stole an entire ice sculpture from de assassins guild witout anyone noticing cause mah cousin Emil had Julian absolutely wrapped around his finger so tightly, we coulda stolen a lot more had he not tried to bring out a ring hahahahah!!-ow!” Gambit continued to laugh as Kurt assaulted him with his hat. Jean's head was resting firmly in her palm. 

“Zat doesn't help!!! I DON'T VANT TO BE MISTAKEN FOR A VOMAN!!” he cries continuing to slap Gambit with the fabric cap, who seemed entirely unbothered and kept laughing. 

“Who said Ah was here ta help, Stringbean?” he teased sticking out his tongue. 

“That's enough. No one is going to be mistaken for a woman,” a voice called out. They turned to see professor Morph enter the room with a large case, “well, maybe me, But in that case it would be entirely intentional!” The teacher chuckled as he walked up to the mirror and table. “Hello Kurt!” They say sitting down, “And don't worry. When I'm done with you, no one who hasn't seen your fuzzy face will have any inkling you are even wearing makeup.” 

“Really?” the boy questions. 

“Yep! I had to help out with fellow actors’ and actresses’ stage make up in a pinch after all!” They pulled out a shaving razor and wiped it down before prepping the shaving soap. “and yes I've had to help with a bit of trimming like this too. Though not quite the same.” They dabbed the soap all over Kurt's face and neck. 

Gambit chuckled again. He looked like a little lamb now under all that foam! He would have made a joke but Jean sent him a warning look and he held up his hands backing off.

“Sorry if I flinch, it is just very close to the skin,” Kurt apologizes in advance as Morph carefully moves the blade against his skin to get rid of the fuzz. 

“It's alright It's a natural response…” Morph says completely focused, but also moving swiftly, “once we have this initial trim, if you keep up with it with a disposable, we shouldn’t need this scary old thing again!” They pull away to examine their work. Gambit blinked in surprise. Kurts skin was as blue as his fur!... Well maybe he should have guessed that… Kurt's cheekbones were also a bit thinner underneath and his nose looked more pronounced. It looked familiar somehow but Gambit couldn't quite put his finger on it.

“You're in good hands Kurt,” Jean assures, “Professor Morph has great talent when it comes to delicate work like this.”

“Eh I’m no barber, but fixing a sewing machine and avoiding hammering your fingers when working with nails takes similar precision,” they respond, waving jean off, “so I can adapt my skills.”

 “Riiight, that's it,” Gambit responds sarcastically, “it ain't got nothin ta do with you havin to stop Logan from trying to shave when he drunk…”

Morph paused and turned around giving Remy a warning look. “I thought I told you we weren't going to discuss Logan and I with him till he was settled…” they whispered. 

Remy simply smiled. “What? Gambit didn't imply anything salacious, just pointed out what a good friend you are,” he replied.morph narrowed their eyes at him in a ‘don't test me’ look before turning back around. And frankly, Remy thought, it was clear as day the kid probably needed to find out about homosexuality before it hit him over the head. He'd been there for barely four days and Remy was already picking up queer energy coming from this kid in spades. A little known power of Gambit's was the ability to sense others emotions to an extent…and well…it took a bit but he realized he started to feel a similar reaction from Kurt when Scott walked in the room as Scott gave off when Jean told Scott good morning: adoration. And given it had been a grand total of four days since showing up…yeah there was no heterosexual explanation for this. And in Remy’s opinion, the sooner he figured this out about himself the better off he’ll be.

Don't pressure him, he heard Jean say to him through telepathy, Let him figure out things on his own. He has enough to deal with right now adapting to a new place with new people. 

Gambit smiled at her innocently and shrugged. 

“Mr Logan tried to shave vhile drunk?! Oh man zat must have been dangerous vith his claws…” Kurt exclaimed, completely missing the tension forming in the room.  

“Oh it's not the most dangerous thing someone has done while drunk around here,” Morph replies in a snarky tone, “I remember someone trying to make a soup inside of a pumpkin…and accidentally setting the stove on fire in the process…”

Gambit's smile fell and he rolled his eyes. He didn't argue though. He did do that…it still tasted good in the end! Especially with the bourbon he spilled in it.

 “Anyways,” Jean interrupted, cutting the tension, “The point is, they aren't going to let you get a nick or scratch!”

  “One nice thing about all that fur is that Dr Maccoy says you won’t be able to sweat off the make-up so you shouldn't need to reapply throughout the day! Just in case though I will use some setting powder,” they comment as they switch to a disposable razor to carefully shave smaller, sensitive spots, “alright, close your eyes and sit very still.” 

Kurt nods and does so…at first at least. His tail quickly began swishing back and forth impatiently as he tried his best to sit still and every so often when the blade was far enough away from his eyes he would peek them open to curiously watch them work. “I've never seen a disposable razor before…it's so nimble. Vhy vould you throw zem out?” He asked.

“Because they rust easily,” Morph said simply as they lift Kurt's chin gently to reach a part they missed, “and accidentally cutting yourself with rusty things can get you incredibly sick. They aren't made to last.”

Kurt frowned in frustration. “Not made to last…” he questioned, “vhy vould you vant somezing like zat?” Gambit smirked. Ohhh no. Morph had opened up the farm boy can of worms: disposable items.

“Well it's cheaper for one,” Morph points out.

“But you vill spend more money in ze long run if you have to replace zem often!” Kurt retorts, “next you vill tell me you don't save old butcher paper…”

Morph blinked in surprise. “Why would you save butcher paper? It's covered in raw animal fat!” They questioned.

“Zat's ze point!!!” Kurt exclaimed, “You save it to use as a kindling to start ze vood stove or fireplace!”

Gambit tried to hide his delight as this unfolded. City folk vs country folk debates were always interesting.

“Can't you just use a bit of kerosine for that?” Jean questioned. 

“VHAT?! ZAT IS SO EXPENSIVE VHY VOULD YOU DO ZAT?!”Kurt whirled on her and cried in confusion. Morph yelped and pulled the razor back in the nick of time. They clutched at their chest, gasping at the fright. “Kerosene is precious! You need it for oil lamps und lanterns vhy vould you ever vaste it like zat vhen every drop counts in an emergency!!” he continued, looking deeply concerned.

Jean just stared at him, having been completely thrown off by him. “We…we don't use oil lamps here kurt…” she said simply, “we use electric lights and gas heating…sometimes gas lights if the power goes out…”

Ouch…Gambit frowned. well that's one way to kill the conversation…

“Oh…sorry…I forgot,” Kurt shrank and sat back in the stool, feeling very humbled, “sorry for scaring you like zat Professor.”

Morph took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s alright ...but please…do not do that again…” they asked, keeping their voice even. Kurt nodded and went quiet again. It was uncomfortably silent as Morph finished the shave. 

“Alright time for make up,” they announced before opening the case they brought with them. Kurt groaned in apprehension, squirming a bit in his seat. “Relax kid,” they said, pulling out a foundation powder, “I know what I’m doing! Like I said no one is going to be mistaken for a woman when I’m done.”

Kurt nodded, relaxing. He coughed a little at the initial powdering of his face but was fine after a sneeze. Then, a thought occured to him. “You said you vant to intentionally be mistaken for a voman…can I ask vhy?” there was no malice in his voice, just curiosity. 

The whole room froze for a second. Fuck. “Kurt I don't think that's an appropriate question to ask them-” Jean starts but is cut off.

“Zat's anozer zing…vhy do people keep calling you ‘zey’ or ‘zem’,” he asks, “are you not a man?”

Gambit do something! Jean insisted. But Gambit didn't move. He knew morph had this under control. 

As proof of this, Morph merely smiled. “Kinda but not really,” they explained, “you see my mutant ability is shape shifting.” They picked up a piece of paper on the counter and held in near their face to demonstrate. “I can be a man,” they say with their typical face before passing the paper over their face and shifting it to a more feminine appearance with a gibson girl bun but same skin, hair, and eye color, “or a woman. I can even decide to be neither sex if it suits me.” They pass the paper over their face again and reveal a grey, pupiless blobby face. Kurt jumped a little at that but was smiling. “I can even,” they start before Passing the paper across their face again. Kurt yelped in shock seeing his own face staring back at him. “I can even become you!” They chirped before sliding the piece over their face again, showing their face return back to its usual masculine form, “you can see as a result why its easier to use they and them for me as result.”

“Zat's wunderbar!!" Kurt exclaimed, giving a few short claps, “You are like Frau Rabe!”

Everyone looked confused at that. “Come again?” morph asked before continuing to work on his face.

“Frau Rabe is a story about a shape shifting sorceress,” he explains, “Mein parents told it to me all ze time as a child. Zey heard of it vhile still in Bavaria. Vould you like to hear it? It is quite gutt!”

Morph shrugged. “Fine by her just keep your head pointed where I ask you too and follow my directions,” they respond simply as they begin applying a peachy color to his face. 

“I'd love to hear it!” Jean said. Gambit nodded as well. He'd never heard of this one before.

“Ok! So ze story begins a long time ago. Zere vas a lord living in a castle zat vas of marrying age, und von day he came across ze most beautiful voman he had ever seen, und her name vas Rabe,” Kurt began, “he vas enraptured by Rabe, und began courting her, but she vas hiding a secret! You see, she vas no ordinary voman. She vas a fairy sorceress vho could change shape! Und she vanted to put a fae child on ze throne.”

“So she married de lord ta make a half fae baby?” Gambit asked. 

“Nein, vell, she did marry him,” Kurt replied, “you see, due to her shape shifting abilities, she could not carry a child herself vithout giving up her shape shifting powers until ze baby vas born, und she vas already shape shifting to infatuate him.” 

“Sounds like da plan was screwed from de beginnin,” Gambit commented before being hit in the head by a penny. He winced and saw Jean looking over and glaring at him, to which he rolled his eyes, but closed his mouth. He wasn't even trying to be antagonistic this time! He was just trying to engage with the story, jeez!

“Not ze case! For you see, she had a secret lover!” Kurt explained as Morph tilted his head around, “A blind noblevoman in a neighboring town zat she appeared to as a man und vas married to asvell!”

“Sounds like quite the scandal,” morph comments. 

“It vould have been had people known about it,” Kurt continues, “But ze trickster vas very careful! she got her vife pregnant und visited her but stayed in ze lord's castle, shapeshifting to appear pregnant! However she vas eventually discovered after ze baby vas born…”

“Oh no what happened?” Jean asked. 

“ze fairy voman vas caught trying to sneak ze baby back into ze castle in her true fairy form through ze vindow. Ze lord vas furious vhen he realized vhat vas going on,” Kurt narrated, “He ordered her to be hunted down for her attempted takeover of the town und castle. But zey never caught her! Ze sorceress und ze blind voman simply disappeared as if zey vere never zere. No matter how hard zey looked, no von ever found her, not even to zis day!”

Jean gave a soft clap. And Remy smiled and nodded in approval. That was a great story but for some reason the name Rabe sounded familiar and he wasn't sure why…ugh he was getting a serious case of deja vu from all this.

“Well I can see how you made the connection, Kurt!” morph replied with a chuckle, “Well, to some extent. I'm no scam artist running from the law after all.” This got a snicker from the boy as they finished with the blush and tucked some hair over his ears. 

“Ja I know, it is just von of my favorite,” Kurt said with a shrug, “danke for letting me share it.”

“Aand we are done!” Morph replied, setting a pair of tinted yellow glasses on the perch of Kurt's nose, “that should help hide your Golden eyes! This is only a practice run, we can make tweaks to it before you head to church on sunday to make sure its perfect. Why don't you face the mirror and tell me what you think.”

Kurt did so and gasped at his pale, smooth complection. He had light pink lips, no extra fur on eyelids, and his ears were safely tucked away. “I’m…I'm normal!” He almost wanted to cry as he touched his own face. 

“To be honest nothin really normal round here lately,” Gambit replied, “but you do look great mon ami, ah could pass you fo one of my cousins like dis!” kurt turned to him and gave him a big smile that nearly melted his heart. Oof. Scratch that. Not cousins. He'd be up for having him as a brother. Part of Gambit was starting to wish he had a younger sibling like Kurt, but then again, Gambit didn't want to drag anyone else into the Thieves Guild, especially not a child. 

“You look great,” Jean praised, coming over and squeezing his shoulder gently. 

“Danke, Jean!” He said before turning back to the mirror, “I changed my mind. I love zis makeup stuff. Zis is so amazing!” his tail was wagging like crazy as he looked at himself.

Morph gave a dramatic sarcastic sigh. “You know if you want to complement an artists work it’s best to say it directly to their faces” They teased. 

Kurt didn't seem to get that and lunged to give Morph a hug. “Danke, danke, danke professor!!!” He cried, burying his face into Morph's suit, “You are amazing! Zis is ze best day ever!”

Morph appreciated the thanks but scrambled to remove Kurt from them. “Ah jeez kid, be careful with that stuff! it-,” they started and pulled him away to see a large peachy powder stain on morph’s suit and an exposed blue spot on Kurt's face, “... Rubs off easily…”

Gambit did his best to stifle a snicker and this time so did jean. It was just a very cute image. Kurt looked incredibly embarrassed. “S-sorry…” he replies, quickly sobering up and his tail falling, “I didnt…I didn't ruin it did I?"

Morph forced a smile onto their annoyed face. “Nah! I wouldn't have worn this if a little powder was wall it took to ruin it,” they assure, “Now lets get you cleaned up. I'm glad we got this out of the way. We have the braces done, the special boots designed for your feet in mind, I patched those trousers for a tail pocket, and now we've tested out what makeup works for you. Now all that is left is to get those articulated gloves Forge was working on for you done, and you'll be able to freely roam the town."

“Danke again,” he says as they leave the room, “you people are saints! True miracle workers!”

Morph laughs. “Oh I am far from a saint, kid, but I appreciate the compliments,” they reply.

“Yeah if this was a place for saints i don't think Remy would be here,” Jean teased as they left. 

Remy just shrugged and smiled. “Das fair,” he admits, following them out.

…..

Kurt tip toed back into the little green room area Morph had done his make up in and gave a silent cheer when he saw the make up case was still there. He carefully opened it and pulled out a tube of bright red lipstick, holding it gently in his hands. It was as deep a red as a rose! Just gorgeous! Kurt glanced around before uncapping the tube and gently running the waxy material against his lips before looking up into the mirror. A bit mesmerized by his own reflection.

He wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to try this so badly, but he really wanted to know what it would look like on him without the pale skin. And he had to admit it was quite striking. Kurt began to reach for the mascara to try that next but was stopped when he heard a noise from the hallway. He set the beauty products down and anxiously tried to see if anyone was there with him. 

“Hello?” He called. No answer. With that unnerving situation occurring, Kurt quickly rubbed off the lip stick with a hankey and BAMFed out of there.   

After he heard the sound of him teleporting away, Gambit glanced back into ths room, and thankfully, Kurt was gone. That didn't stop Remy's heart from pumping like he just saw a bear. Initially he was just going down to pick up a wood carving tool he left there, he didn't expect anyone to be there. And when he peered through the door he was almost horrified to discover What looked like Mystique in a black wig staring in the mirror, applying make up. Eventually he processed that it was actually Kurt but that was quite the shock…and caused him a good deal of concern. 

Why did Kurt look so much like her at times? Especially with that lipstick. He was adopted after all…could it be his mother was…? Gambit shook his head and grabbed the whittling knife. No that was just too out there of an idea. Mccoy was blue and fuzzy but that didn't make him kurt's father. He shrugged and let himself forget about it. If this was something important it will come back up later and he can think more about it then. For now, he would just chalk them looking similar up to them both being blue skinned. He didn't look nearly as much like her when his face wasn't shaven after all. With that, Gambit headed out of the room, whistling. 

Chapter Text

Have you ever had a day that started out amazing and you just knew something was going to come along and ruin it? Yeah that's what Remy was experiencing today. It started out an absolutely wonderful Saturday morning. Forge had just finished working on Kurt's articulating gloves to hide his three fingered hands, and Kurt had been so enraptured he had been practicing using them all day since…. Emphasis on “had”. 

Remy bit his lip and winced as from his corner of the kitchen he saw Kurt was shaking in the arm chair that had been brought in for him, eyes wide with horror and on the verge of tears, and clutching his raw looking and slightly cut up hands that Dr. Maccoy was trying to attend to. Logan had removed the jammed machines from his hands after they suddenly locked up after some bleach got spilled on them doing chores. He had been careful not to nick the boy as much as possible but between the corrosive chemicals and the metal inside the gloves potentially hurting him, they had to get them off his hands quickly. As a result, his hands didn't fully go unscathed and the delicate mechanisms had been damaged beyond repair, and it would take at least a day or two to make new ones…thus why Kurt was shaking. No, it wasn't the trauma of having those things stuck on his hands, or potential burns from bleach they had done their best to wash off, or from having Wolverine take his claws to his wrists to save him. It was fear from a completely different source: fear of missing sunday mass. 

Now from most people's perspective in the institute, was this something to really be worried about? No. But that was for a specific reason: almost everyone in the house was not a practicing catholic, that was aside from Kurt. Sure there were some Protestants among them, like Alex, Scott, and Jean, and Dr. Maccoy had Catholic by heritage but was Agnostic currently and had been for a long time. Point was most of them either didn’t quite understand how dire missing Sunday mass was considered in the catholic church or couldn't remember how badly it could weigh on someone. 

 As for Remy? Well, he too was raised Catholic and he hadn't set foot in a church for well over a year. That being said, how recently he had become estranged made him a little more aware of what Kurt was feeling. After all he knew the rules all too well, and while it may appear that Kurt being on the verge of tears was a bit of over dramatics, Remy knew exactly what he was going through, and it probably didn't feel over dramatic to Kurt.

“It’ll be ok Kurt it's just one sunday!” Scott tried to assure. Patting his shoulder. Kurt looked up at him in shock, mouth hanging open.

“Yeah the Catholic church does daily mass right? Just go Monday,” Alex suggests, “I don't think God is gonna mind too much right?”

“Does keep holy ze Sabbath mean nozing to you?! It is von of ze most important commandments!!!” Kurt snapped, causing Alex to stumble back, “I can't just go on Monday!! Zat isn't ze Sabbath! It's a mortal sin to miss ze Eucharist on Sunday!”

“I’m sorry, Eucharist?” Scott questioned.

“It's a term for the sacrament of Communion used in the catholic church and many orthodox churches,” Dr Maccoy explained.

“Ok so? Our church doesn't have communion for every mass…” Alex says, “is tomorrow some kind of special Catholic holiday? How is not having communion-”

“VHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T HAVE COMMUNION EVERY SUNDAY?!” Kurt cried in shock, “ZAT'S ZE WHOLE POINT OF MASS?!?!? ZE CELEBRATION OF ZE EUCHARIST!!!”

Remy pinched the bridge of his nose. Yep. He expected this. Many Christian churches celebrated the Lord's Supper, some every Sunday, some not, but the Catholic church was…very different about it. Catholicism was always heavily steeped in strict tradition and ceremony, especially for the Mass. Remy personally found it too strict for him personally. But if there was one thing that had been drilled into him since his first communion, it's that the Eucharist was not simply symbolic of Jesus’ last supper as in other faiths, but once blessed,  it was believed it literally contained the essence of Christ, and treated as such. It was the Body of Christ in the same way the bread at the last supper was. As a result, receiving the Eucharist was a mandatory, sacred rite for every Catholic on Sunday necessary for healing one's soul. You did not simply skip mass unless you were physically trapped somewhere or too sick to move, and even then, it might be brought to you by your local priest just to be sure you got it. And if you skipped mass…

“Ok but you can make up for it by going to mass twice the following week? You could go on Saturday and Sunday…” Scott tried.

“I can't just go to mass viz a mortal sin on mein shoulders?!?!?!” Kurt responded, with all the same horror as if he had just been asked to shoot a dog, “you CANNOT receive ze Eucharist viz a mortal sin! I vould have to go to Reconciliation first!!!”

Exactly…it was one thing to miss mass once. But to then try to receive the Eucharist the following week without seeking to repent first? That was even worse. It was comparable to spitting in a man's face and then begging for a cup of sugar from him the next day. Except in this case, the man in question was God. Gambit sighed. What a mess this would be. Even if Kurt got over it, the guilt spiral from this would be awful to witness. 

“Ok, but your disguise should be more than ready this week to go to reconciliation, right?” Professor Morph asked, “you can go this week and then go to church the following sunday. Problem solved.”

“Und vhat if he asks me vhy I didn't come to church on Sunday? Am I supposed to lie to ze priest of ze parish I'm joining in RECONCILIATION of all times?!” He cried, standing up. 

“Kurt please calm down,” Ororo said, “we will figure this out.”

No, they wouldn't for the exact reason Kurt stated. Any direction they went from here would likely involve Kurt lying to who would become his parish priest, which he would never agree to. Lying in Reconciliation would make it null and void. Trying to get a home visit from a priest they don't know on such short notice would be difficult and he would likely ask questions, which would result in Kurt lying, which-while Remy didn't know for sure- he would bet money lying to a priest is a mortal sin, or at the very least Kurt had been taught as such. They couldn't just let him go into the church without those special gloves. Too many instances in which his hands would need to be visible during mass. Unless they planned on revealing the existence of mutants to this random guy, who likely wouldn't be nearly as accepting as the priest Kurt grew up with and knew in his hometown, there was no way to do this without something Kurt would morally object to. And it didn't matter how silly the moral objection seemed to others. It was a real and serious offense to Kurt.

“Look Kurt,” Dr. Maccoy tried to soothe, placing a fuzzy hand over the boy's own, “I promise you this is not the end of the world. No one understands what you are dealing with better than me. If there is a loving God as the bible describes, surely he would understand and forgive you for missing a single mass for your safety.”

Kurt pulled his hand away like it burned. Tears were coming down his cheeks freely now as he hyperventilated. “YOU DON'T KNOW ZAT! YOU CAN'T KNOW ZAT!! NONE OF YOU UNDERSTAND!” he shouted before teleporting out of the room in a puff of smoke.

 Everyone fell into a coughing fit before immediately buzzing around trying to find him. Everyone that was, except for Remy. Remy headed to his room, a look of determination on his face. He had a job to do. 

….

He stepped into his room and tried to ignore the sounds of Kurt sobbing next door. They both twisted his stomach but also proved to him that this needed to be done. It was incredibly stupid but kurt needed this. So he pulled out the battered old suitcase he had brought with him and began rifling through its contents. It was the only remnant he kept of his old life….Well. Had been able to pack up. Stabbing the brother of your ex bride to be and being banished as a result gave little time to pack. But he had been smart enough to pack several important items….

He pulled from the tattered leather case a few things that would be crucial for the next couple steps: his lock picking tools, silk gloves, a small pry bar, his sunglasses, and rosary in a white silk baggy that had been a gift from Tante Mattie. He never used it, but he had kept it to remember her by. He took the rosary out, putting it back in the case and pocketed the silk baggy before heading back downstairs.

 He turned on the stove acting as if nothing had happened, not that anyone would bother him. If he worked quickly, he could get out and do what he needed to do without others paying much mind. He got some sausage going and chopped some potatoes and onions. He went to the fridge and got out the jar of red cabbage he had started pickling a few days ago with the leftovers of Kurts watermelon jarring. It was no sauerkraut but hopefully pickled red cabbage mixed with the other German adjacent foods he was preparing would keep Kurt’s mind off of things.

If he was in Kurt’s position, Remy wouldn't care nearly as much as Kurt did. He figured by this point if God is real, he's damned regardless considering all the shit he'd pulled. His list of mortal sins was likely too long for him to remember everything to confess if he tried. And even if that wasn't the case, there were facts that would mean he would never be accepted into a church community. He was a thief. He had been an addict. He was a demon eyed freak. He had loose morals when it came to modesty and enjoyed the sexual attention of both sexes. hell he had nearly trapped himself into an arranged marriage at 16 and then nearly caused the death of a man at 16 because of his desires. No he was not welcome, but he didn't care. He had no desire to be part of the church or waste time repenting to a God that by what the priests taught, likely saw him as a regretful mistake, no matter how many times he was made to sing “jesus loves me” as a kid. It didn't matter. He still had to wear dark colored glasses every time he entered a church on Sundays and he always knew why deep down.

The sausage sizzled and popped on the stove as Remy added the chopped onions and potatoes for frying. Remy sprinkled some salt and pepper in there and added some chopped okra. He had hopefully prepared enough for everyone to have their fill, because he wasn’t going to have time to make more.

But he wasn't Kurt. And Kurt had had far better experiences with his faith than he ever did. Kurt HAD found peace, community, meaning, and security within his religion. His home church had made him feel accepted and made him feel hope and that he wasn't simply put here to suffer. This was about more than just potentially upsetting a silent, impersonal deity, this was about Kurt worrying about getting cut off from everything that gave him comfort and becoming alienated from his safe haven. This mattered to Kurt, even if it seemed trivial to everyone else. He may have only known this kid for about six days but it hurt to see him like this and to know what he would go through. If this poor boy who couldn't hurt a fly already was breaking down at the prospect of failing to go to church, he couldn't imagine how bad he would be if he thought he had done something so serious that it would make God angry with him. So even if Kurt couldn't do anything to fix this situation, that wouldn't stop Remy from trying. 

Gambit turned off the stove and plated the food. Eleven plates. That should be enough for everyone. Well everyone minus him but he wouldn’t have time to eat before he went anyways. Hed toss a few apples into his car for later if he had too. With that he set the table, hit the dinner bell, and headed out. 

 Kurt couldn't bring himself to betray his God, even in an effort to try and obey his commandments. The kid would have a crisis one way or another. And trying to let him go to church without the special gloves was too dangerous. But a professional sinner like Remy Lebeau? What's one more slight against the Almighty's will anyways? They called him Le Diable Blanc anyways.

….

Gambit carefully watched the mass going on from a corner way in the back of the church. He hoped no one would notice, but the way the light from the stained glass windows was moving he might get spotlighted soon if he didn’t scooch down a bit more. He going through the motions he’d memorized over the years, but not really praying or participating either. He wasn't really paying attention to the words being said either. He kinda tuned out after the uncomfortable gospel reading.

 “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full,”

He had rolled his eyes and grimaced at that point. Yeah yeah I get it, he thought to himself in the closest thing to a prayer he’d said in years, You aren't happy with what I'm doing I get it. fuck off. one of your precious sheep is gonna end up giving himself a heart attack if I don't because your shitty shepherds can't see him as a person. 

He wasn't here to listen to the mass. He was here to watch the priest. As soon as everyone had received communion, any leftovers of the blessed bread would be placed in a little golden box somewhere in the church called the Tabernacle by the priest. He needed to know where that was. People weren't fully genuflecting when they sat down at the start so it clearly wasn't behind the altar. 

That was his best bet. There was no way he would be able to take something during communion. Not a single chance. Not only did the priest hand out every piece by directly placing it on the tongue, but somehow they always knew if someone tried to take some with them somehow. His cousin Emil had tried that during his first communion, boy theives will be boy theives …sister Bonabelle did not agree with that sentiment. He never crossed a nun again after that. He knew a kid that tried to take it out of his mouth and pocket it too. He had never seen such an old, usually jovial decon run that fast to snatch a kid by his suit jacket and chew him out before and he was glad he hadn't since. Needless to say, unless he felt like making a fool of himself in front of a church of strangers, taking from the plate was a terrible idea.

 The hypervigilance probably looked insane from an outside point of view, hell, it was insane from Gambit's view too. But these people did believe this blessed cracker wafer was the body of christ…if they really did so then the insanity was understandable…especially because they also believed people might be stealing them for satanic rituals. Remy rolled his eyes. Honestly every actual satan worshiper he knew preferred animal blood sacrifices any day, but that was besides the point. The poing was the church did not play around with what they considered the body of Christ. Stealing a piece of the Eucharist could get a priest defrocked and a parishioner excommunicated. 

And stealing the body of Christ is exactly what Gambit was going to do. He slipped away during the distribution of the bread and watched the priest take the leftovers to a little prayer room to the side. Bingo. Now to wait for his opening.

…..

It was well after ten pm when the light in the rectory finally went out. Remy yawned. Jesus, didn’t that priest have to get up early for what…a seven am mass the next day? Remy rubbed the sleep from his eyes before getting out from the shrubs he was in. Utter insanity that priest. 

Well technically the utter insanity was what Remy was doing right now he thought as he slipped the pry bar through the gap in the doors to push the heavy latch out of place. He, a master thief, was breaking into a church, not to steal any gold, but less than an ounce of bread. If caught for this, this information could get back home and royally fuck with his family’s reputation considering most of them were still Catholic. And he was doing this for some hyper blue kid he met six days ago that made him eat pickled watermelon. All because he was sobbing himself silly from catholic guilt. 

He tried to lower the heavy wooden latch inside slowly but hit the ground with a loud, echoing THUNK despite only falling three inches. Remy winced. Dammit he forgot about the acoustics of a church. he was getting rusty, he should have thought about it. Rookie mistake. That's ok he can move quickly. It wasn't like there was a lot of security, just a single lock on the Tabernacle. Honestly kinda pathetic in his opinion for protecting the Body of Christ. Ah well better for him then.

He slipped into the prayer room. The dozens of candles left burning for petitions for loved ones gave an eerie glow to the room. Several mini pews held rosaries, missals, and worn prayer cards with the images of saints on them. All of them were facing a square hole in the wall filled with a golden box that shimmered ethereally in the glow of the candle light. Years ago Gambit would have quietly bowed and knelt quietly in one of the pews trying to recite prayers from memory. Like a good little catholic boy.

Gambit walked up to it and began picking the lock swiftly. Despite how easy this all was his heart was still pumping in his ears and anxiety in him like he was trying to break into fort knox.

You're going to hell for this he heard a voice in the back of his head say. Oh boy. His conscience. It had gotten stronger since joining the institute. Fan fucking tastic. Well it hadn't stopped him before why would it stop him now?

I was already going to hell. He replies, opening the door. There inside was a golden dish filled with pieces of wafer bread, indistinguishable from the naked eye to an unblessed wafer bread. 

Your father would be pissed if he knew. He'd disown you. 

I'm already banished it's nothing new. Gambit picked up a piece with his silk gloves and put it into the rosary baggy. The rosary was blessed too so this should be ok right? Probably not. This was probably heresy. Oh well.

What about your brother Henri? How do you think this will affect him and his fiancée?

It won't because no one will find out. He closes the tabernacle door an relocks it. Gambit then begins to turn and head out the door. Despite nearly being in the clear, his heart was still racing. And the voice became more demanding. 

You may be fine with all this but will Kurt? If he accepts a stolen Eucharist it may hurt him more.

He won't know because I won't tell him its stolen. I'll say a priest had me deliver it.

You know that won’t work. He knows priests aren't allowed to just hand off the Eucharist to strangers. 

Well miracles happen everyday.

He will find out eventually.

Not right away. 

The door was so close yet so far away. He was almost home free.

Oh? so you are content with your ugly little lie coming out and how it will effect him then?

Remy stops, grabbing the door handle.

 He could never forgive himself for eating a stolen Eucharist. You know he won't. You know he knows how wrong this is by the church.

His grip tightened on the door.

 Do you really want to wait for him to one day find out he has been living with an excommunicatable sin on his shoulders for years? And accepting eucharist the whole time, never seeking penance? Are you ok with that?

Remy swore under his breath and sighed. 

Damnit…

Perhapse he didn't care about the church…but he did care about Kurt. Remy turned back around and began walking towards the prayer room again. This was stupid and reckless. Kurt would agree. He would hate it if he knew what he had done. It was cruel to him. Remy would have to find another way…. Was it originally this bright in the prayer room? 

 The answer unfortunately did not come in time for him to avoid his mistake. As when he opened the door he saw a man dressed in black with a white collar, holding a lamp, examining the donations box. He looked relieved that nothing was missing.

Shit The priest. 

Remy was about to back out the door when the man looked up at him. 

Fuck

“Who…what are you doing here?” The bewildered man questioned.

Yep. Remy was going to hell. Sorry Kurt…,

Chapter Text

Merde…

Merde merde merde!!!

While his face was blank, Remy’s mind was frozen in a cursing loop of berating himself. How could he not? He had just made the dumbest mistake in his whole career as a thief. What kind of idiot am I??? He thought, why did I go back to return it?! I could have just eaten it?!?! He sighed internally. Either the Catholic church still had its grip on him in ways he didn't realize, or good boy Kurt was rubbing off on him in the most inconvenient way. I might as well have just turned myself in…

“Who’s there? Who are you…” the priest said. Remy had to get out of there. He couldn't wear his sunglasses while doing thief work in the dark. He began backing away through the shadows but his own panic had caused his reaction to be delayed. Stepping forward swiftly with his lamp to get a better look at Remy, the priest gasped as he looked into Remy's black on red eyes. 

Yeaaaaaahhhh here it comes, Remy thought, dread slipping into him. The reaction was coming. The reaction he always got. Devil, demon, monster, creature…he had heard it all. Remy stuffed his hand into his pocket to reach for a card. Hopefully if the man was scared enough by a charged card he could make an escape… 

“What are you?” He questioned.

That made Remy falter. People didn't usually give him an option to explain himself. They just took one look at his eyes and assumed he was evil. But this man didn't look at him like most did. Confused? Bewildered? Maybe a bit scared? Sure. But he didn't look at Remy with horror or revulsion. Interesting… I can work with this. Especially when you consider what a demon really is according to the bible…oooo jackpot. He knew exactly what to do.

Remy carefully charged his suit, causing it to glow a light purple. The priest stumbled back and fell to the floor, nearly dropped his lamp. “Be not afraid,” he said trying not to sound scared himself and speak as eloquently as he could, “For I am an angel of the Lord, come to request your assistance, Father Micheal.” He's glad now he went to mass. He would have never heard the guy's name had he not and this would have been far less convincing otherwise. 

The priest looked on in shock and awe as he got back up into a kneeling position, still staring at Remy's glowing form. Good he is buying it…Remy though,... Oh if nothing else I am so going to hell for this. Remy reversed the charge and walked towards the priest offering him a hand up. 

The priest stared at it and then back at Remy before taking it. “I’m sorry I did not realize…For what reason could the Lord have for me? I am no bishop after all,” he says, “tell me what is your name, angel? So I may address you properly.”

Gambit froze again, very happy to have a good poker face. “My name is…” he began as his mind raced. Merde…what name would be properly angelic? Father likely would not accept “Remy LeBeau” as an angel name. Maybe a constellation? Orion, Scorpio, Cygnus, Cassiopeia…no that last one is a woman… he thought frantically, wait angel names always end in iel…Remiel? No that's basically my legal name think-wait thats it!

“My name is,” he said trying to keep his voice on that same even tone, “Cassiel.”

“Castiel? The archangel of Thursdays?” Father Micheal questioned.

Wait, that was the name of a real angel? Seriously??? What the hell? This was either really lucky or really unlucky. Hopefully he won't ask any crazy question only the "Angel of Thursday" would know. “That is I,” he says, “And the Lord gotta special mission for you.”

“But of course! I am a humble servant of the Lord,” he responds with awe in his voice, kneeling, “but can I ask, Why me?”

“Well a priest is supposed to be the one to give the Eucharist, correct?” Remy says, pulling the white silk pouch from his pocket, opening it to reveal the host inside and handing it to the man. “there's a young boy in your area who is facing a terrible curse…he be human but when he appears before others he looks like a demon. Is a cruel trick by a devil to keep him from happiness and community with God,” he lies like the professional he is, “This affliction can be staved off with the Eucharist, and he can appear as normal for a week at a time, but he has recently entered your parish district from his old home and the devil struck him early today in a moment of crisis as a result. The Lord wants you to give him the Eucharist…here. In the church…at an hour past midnight tonight.”

“At one in the morning?” the priest asked clarifying.

“Das correct, you dare judge the requests of God?” Remy questioned, keeping his voice even and cool, meanwhile internally this was the most anxious about a lie he had ever been, even more so than as a child when Tante Mattie questioned him about the missing slice of sweet potato pie when he had yet to wipe the crumbs off his face. He ironically felt the urge to pray for this to work…

“No not at all!” Father Michael responded with an apologetic bow, “I just wanted to be sure. I shall be in the sanctuary at one am exactly. I am honored to be able to help any child of God. Thank you for this opportunity.” The man bowed low in gradititude. 

Remy thought he probably should feel guilty about this, lying to a man and convincing him he was on a mission from God, but instead he just felt relief. “Good. The Lord is pleased with you,” he says backing into the shadows. He slipped a card from his sleeve and began charging it, just enough to create a flash bang. “Now go get some rest. I shall return tonight with the boy. Be kind to him, no matter how he appears to you,” he says before throwing the card to the ground and darting out of the room, sprinting as swiftly and quietly across the church and out the nearest door he could. He didn't stop there to catch his breath. He kept running, doing his best to avoid laughing like a mad man as he raced to his car, his heart beating a mile a minute. Only when he got into his vehicle and started it did he let his emotions break through.

It started as a chuckle as he held his face in his palm. Then became a full blown bout of manic laughter as he raced away from the church to grab an unsuspecting Kurt.

What the hell had he just done? He just stole from a church. He just stole the body of Christ from a church! He just stole the body of Christ and attempted to bring it back, only to be caught by a priest. And THEN he LIED to said priest about being a messenger of God in order to get him to do a weird almost contraband exchange like situation in the church itself in a little over two hours from now! This was officially the dumbest, craziest, most reckless thing he had ever done, and that was saying something as he had broken into the Astor's AND the Rockefeller's residences before. Twice. 

…and he did it all for a kid he barely knew. Just some random mutant boy from Iowa that had grown on him. It was insanity, and yet he was entirely ok with this. He was more than ok in fact. He was quite. Literally hooting and hollering as he raced down the road to the institute, filled with both giddiness and panic over the whole thing.  

It felt like when he completed his first big job without his dad: robbing a stately plantation home in Alabama for a new wealth black family up in Maine wanting their old family records. He felt like Huck Finn tearing up that letter and saying “all right then, I'll go to Hell.” That bizarre, frantic, exhilarating feeling when you know most other people in the world would scorn and condemn you for what you had done but you know deep down it had to be done and it was right to do so you just can't care for what they think anymore.

He continued to laugh uncontrollably, speeding down the road at almost 50 miles per hour like a mad man. “Oh Kurt you better send me a postcard of them pearly gates someday,” he said to himself still laughing, “cause you best get to see them for all mah efforts! Haha! WOOOOO!!”

Chapter Text

"Kurt.... Kurt wake up!” 

Kurt stirred a little bit blinking his eyes open. “Huh?...” He mumbles seeing Gambit hovering above him, “Remy? Remy what…”

“No time fo questions right now Kurt, get yo self dressed,” he says shaking him, “come on. Sunday best.”

Kurt rubbed his eyes with a grumble sitting up in confusion. “Sunday best? Vhat are you talking about?” He asked with a yawn. He looked around. The room was completely dark and as he checked the window the moon was still high in the sky. “Is ze middle of ze night! Vhat nonses are you planning?” Kurt questioned before having a dress shirt suit and pants thrown in his face.

“What never heard of a midnight mass before?” Gambit questioned with a smirk.

Kurt stopped and after pulling the cloathing off his face and stared at Gambit, eyes wide. “Vhat?” was all he could muster.  

…..

“So let me get zis straight,” Kurt said from the front passenger's seat, trying to process everything Gambit unloaded on him as they drove down the dark country road, “... You broke into a church und tried to steal ze body of Christ..” He gave Remy a concerned look. 

“Yep but ah didn't,” he corrected. It never left the church after all. 

“But still you tried…” Kurt emphasized.

“Yeah for your sake,” Remy insisted. 

“Ok but I didn't ask you to do zat!,” Kurt responded sharply before taking a deep breath and calming himself down, “Ok…but zen you vere caught by ze priest und zen decided to lie to him zat you ver un angel of ze Lord und I vas some child vith a curse on him…”he continued, attempting to not sound upset. 

“Dat is correct,” Gambit confirmed with a nod, a smile never leaving his face as ke kept his eyes on the road. 

Kurt stared at him as, yellow eyes glowing with concern and confusion. “...Vhy ze hell vould you do zis?! Are you trying to get yourself excommunicated?!” He questioned, gesticulating wildly, “Seriously, Remy! It's like you are trying to find ze fasted vay to get smitten by God!”

Remy chuckled, seemingly unbothered. “Eh ya know day excommunication shit be bullshit fo anyone dat ain't a priest. Not like dey can tell every priest in every church in America Remy LeBeau ain't welcome. Da paper wasted on de letters would be très expensive. Never mind all da copies of de portrait to identify me,” Remy commented, “N if God were smitten wit Remy, well dat would be a free ticket ta heaven, non? Course don't know how Mary would feel bout dat.” 

He laughed as Kurt growled and face palmed. Kurt cursed the English language under his breath. “Gotten himmel…Zat's not vhat I meant und you know it!!!!” Kurt snapped, “Seriously! Does zis not bozer you at all?! Ve are lying to a priest in order to receive ze sacraments!”

“Non, Remy be lyin’,” Gambit corrected, “You ain't gonna be tellin no lies. Are you not a human boy who has da unfortunate issue o lookin like a demon?”

“... Nein.”

“Were you not gonna look human n show up dis Sunday iffin an accident didn't happen?” 

“... Nein.”

“Do you not need de Eucharist to heal ya soul each Sunday,”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Nein zat is vhat de Eucharist is for,” he sighed. 

“And are you not gonna show up lookin human next sunday?” Gambit finished with a smirk.

Kurt swore. “Ja I plan on being zere next Sunday in disguise,” he snapped, “Zat doesn't change ze fact you said zis vas a curse of ze devil un zat you vere a messenger of God!!! Zat breaks several commandment! Und I'm pretty sure pretending to be a Prophet or God's messenger is heresy!”

“Yeah, but you ain’t da one tellin him dem lies. Just Remy,” Gambit pointed out, “you don't gotta say you believe ahm an angel, all you gotta say is ahm some strange bein wit strange powers dat takin you ta church n back home, which is true, n dat ah wanna be called Cas, which is also true. Ah do right now.” Gambit parked the car a few blocks from the church. “We here. All ya gotta do is transport us inside o dat church on mah signal. Ahmma charge our clothes temporarily fo our entrence ta make it look all heavenly n we do da same back to da car when we leavin,” he said before checking his pocket watch. 12:45. They had fifteen minutes. Perfect. 

Gambit looked up from his watch to see Kurt still staring at him angrily and with disbelief. “... What?” He questioned, “Kurt come on ya needed to attend mass-”

“Ja but vhat about you?!” Kurt snapped, “You are catholic, you know you are still committing a terrible sin!”

Gambit rolled his eyes and sighed. “It don matter Kurt, look-” 

“YES IT DOES!” Kurt interjected, his eyes looking wet with frustrated tears, “Vhat about YOUR soul Remy? Excommunication is not a joke!! Zis could bar you from receiving sacraments in a state of grace for life if somevon finds out!! You vouldn't be able to attend reconciliation! Don't you know zat prevents you from being absolved of mortal sin?!”

“Kurt just-”

“Nein! I am not doing anyzing you say until you do some real discernment und explain a few zings!” He snapped, pointing a blue finger in Remy's face “Vhy are you risking so much for a person you barely know?! Vhy are you putting your own salvation at risk?! Vhy don't you care about yourself?!”

“BECAUSE AH DON'T MATTAH KURT! AHM DAMNED NO MATTAH WHAT AH DO!” Gambit shouted at him, causing the blue German to flinch and stare at him with wide eyes, ears pulled back in fear. Gambit huffed for a minute, hands gripping the steering wheel and he pressed his forehead to it, eyes closed. After a minute he pulled away and licked his lips nervously, not making eye contact with Kurt. “Kurt…” he says quietly, “how much have you been told about me?”

Kurt gave him a confused look. “You are from New orleans in Louisiana? You lived on ze streets before Logan found you?” he says. 

Remy gave a huff of a laugh despite himself. Of course they didn't tell him. “Kurt, Ah ain't just from New Orleans,” he says, “Ahm da son o one o de biggest crime families in New Orleans. Da Thieves Guild. Ahm a thief, a professional wit a long history of robbin.”

Kurt gasped a little. “..zats not unforgivable…” he says in response, “you aren't a thief now, ze bible says ze sins of thieves can be forgiven if-”

“If dey return all what dey stole, ah know,” Remy snapped in frustration, “Kurt even if ah could give back every item I stole dere still plenty o sins ah can't undo…” He looks Kurt in the eyes, heart beating rapidly in fear at what he's about to admit. “... Ah got blood on mah hands Kurt,” he admits, causing Kurt's jaw to drop in shock, “Ah didn't mean to but ah took someone's life n ya can't give dat back.”

Things were quiet for a second. Remy gripped the steering wheel, ready for Kurt to run from him. But he didn't. Instead he asked a question.

“... Vhat happened?” Kurt asked softly.

Remy blinked in surprise and looked at him. There was no fear in Kurts eyes. Just…sadness and sympathy. Remy looked down again. “... Ah was foolin around wit a girl from a rival family. Da assassins. Her name was Bella n ah thought it was romeo n juliet style true love…lil did ah know it would end just as poorly,” he starts, “one night we got found out in a compromised way. She didn't get pregnant or nothin, but her papa was furious n demanded a marriage to protect his daughter's honor. Ah agreed n mah Pere agreed…but not everyone else did….” Remy's hands were shaking as they gripped the steering wheel, remembering what came next. “Her brother, Julian, heir to da assassins. He didn't want his sister weddin n beddin no demon eyed thief like me…so da day before da weddin he tried ta kill me…n caught me so off guard mah powers activated while tryin to fight back…” he continues, closing his eyes, “... Ah stabbed him n charged de knife on accident…dere was no savin him. After dat ah was banished fo seven years n was stuck out on de streets. Drinkin, cheatin, smokin, n hustlin ta get by. Den Logan found me n cleaned me up n took me to de institute…ahm a better person now but…ya can't tell me God lettin me anywhere near dem pearly gates mon ami, even if ah didn't do what ah did tonight.” He rubbed his eye, trying to avoid any tears from forming. Like hell he was going to cry in front of the blue fuzzball. 

The car was silent for a few minutes. Both boys stared forward through the window. Then Kurt put a hand on Remy's shoulder. “You know ze first man in heaven vas a criminal vho never got to make up for his crimes?” He says, giving Remy a smile, “Ze robber zat vas crucified next to Jesus…he did terrible zings but Jesus promised him he vould get to be in heaven for simply rebuking a man mocking him. I doubt a God zat vould allow for zat vouldn't let someone as kind as you into heaven, mein friend…I von't try to tell you how to live your life, but I zink he can see you regret your actions und are a good person vorthy of happiness.”

Remy blinks for a moment before smiling back, a weight feeling like it was lifting off of him a little. He gave a chuckle. “Merci, mon ami,” he says, “iffin dat be true…don't ya tink God would forgive me mah transgressions tonight iffin it made sure you got to fulfill your obligations?”

Kurt blinked before snorting and chuckling, patting Gambit's shoulder. “Alright, you got me zere,” he admits, rolling his eyes, “I'll do as you say.”

Remy smiled an arrogent smile. “Knew yad see it mah way,” he says before checking his watch, “minute till. Show time, Kurt. Ya ready?” He reaches over and puts his hand on kurts shoulder, charging his cloathing and Kurts. 

Kurt smiles. “Ja, just don't ruin mein suit, its mein only gutt one!” he agrees before teleporting them into the church. They land among the pews and the priest gasps as he sees them appear in a flash of light and a puff of smoke. 

Remy releases the charge before turning and smiling at the priest. “Ah! Father Micheal!” Remy says clapping his hands together with a big smile, “Glad ya came. Dis here is Kurt Wagner, da boy ah was talkin about. Ready to begin?”

The man blinked and stared at Kurt before him, mouth slightly agape. Kurt squirmed nervously, looking away. “H-hallo, vater,” he says nervously, “I am sorry you have to see me like zis, I promise you vill not have to again…”

“Oh no no no child!” The man said stepping forward to assure him, “it is alright. You cannot help your current form. And no matter how you appear, I know who you truely are. After all, it takes true faith and courage to come to God for help in such a desperate situation. It is honestly a pleasure to be of service to you, and I am happy to know you will be joining my Parish Mr. Wagner.” he offered Kurt his hand.

Kurt looked up blinking in suprise, his heart fluttering at the unquestioning assurance. He smiled at the priest, a tear slipping down his cheak as he felt the warm feeling in his heart he always did in a house of worship engulf him. A sense of acceptance that felt almost ethereal in nature and put his soul at ease. Despite being miles and miles away from his true home, he felt the same comfort he did walking into his parents house. “Danke,” he says, rubbing away the tear of relief that was threatening to fall down his cheek, “I vas vorried…I am happy I vill be able to join your community, Vater.”

The man smiled at Kurt and remy couldn't help but smile himself. He never felt close to any church community, but he's glad Kurt could find a home amongst one. It gave him a little bit of ease as well. 

“Now,” the priest says, “let us pray.” He puts his hands together and Kurt mimics him with a nod

….

Remy stood beside Kurt during the service, half paying attention. Just enough to bow his head in prayer and do all the little rituals he was supposed to in response to the priest. He hadn't realized that the ceremony for delivering Eucharist to the sick and homebound was essentially a mini mass without a homily or music. He supposed that's why it was only done by a priest or decon. Still, rather inconvenient in his opinion. 

When the final blessing was given, they repeated their trick from when they appeared, Gambit charging their clothing and Kurt teleporting to the car to make it seem as if it was Remy's doing instead of Kurt. Both boys let out a sigh of relief as they sat for a moment in the car, glad their ruse had worked. 

“Well, glad ya got dat outta da way?” Remy said, starting the car, “Early masses be tough ta sit through, but den ya get da rest o da day to yaself!” he smiled at Kurt who was just staring out the windshield at nothing in particular. There was a sadness in his eyes. Gambit frowned. “Hey, woah dere furball!” He said, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder, “don you go feelin guilty fo dis, we agreed-”

“Don't vorry, Remy zat isn't it,” he says turning to him, “I don't feel guilty. Not about zis. But…can you promise not to do some kind of grand sacrificial gesture for me again?”

Remy gave him a confused look. “Uhhh why? Again, we agreed dis ain't putting mah soul in-”

“Remy stop,” he says putting his hand up, “zats not vhy…look…I'm just…I'm just tired of everyone alvays making sacrifices for my sake vhen I can't do anyzing for zem. It makes me feel like ze actual curse instead of ze phony von you made up. “

Gambit gave a snort and began driving. “Kurt, you're a good kid. One o dah best ah know. Polite, kind, thoughtful…How are you a curse?” 

Kurt pulled his knees up on the seat and curled his tail around himself, staring at the dashboard. “... Can I tell you a story?” He says finally. 

Remy shrugged. “Ah mean, already told ya mah deepest darkest secret so have at it mon ami,” he says casually.

“So…I vasn't born in America, und I vasn't born to mein parents, zey took me in,” he explained. Remy felt his heart skip a beat as he noticed a parallel to his own story. “mein parents zat took me in vere a vell to do couple in Munich. Mein vater vas an animal doctor, und a very good von. Zey stayed in ze countryside vhere zey found me because mein mutter vas pregnant und ze city air vas causing complications…despite zis, ze baby did not survive…” he continued. Remy glanced at him, biting his tongue. He didn't know what to say in response to that. “Zis vasn’t mein mutter's first failed pregnancy...she had…several, not her fault by any means, und zis von really broke her heart. Zey had prayed to God to give zem anozer chance. A miracle…und ze next day zey found me in a basket, vashed up on ze shore of ze river ‘like baby moses’ zey vould say,” he chuckled before continuing, “Zough mein appearance shocked zem, zey felt I must be a sign from God because of ze timing und how I appeared to zem…so zey brought me to a priest zey befriended to be baptized. Vith zat zey knew I vas zeir miracle baby.”

“Okay…” Gambit said, “why you tellin Remy dis?”

Kurt looked up at him with sad eyes. “... Gambit, mein Parents had no reason to leave zeir home before me,” he explains, “Zey vere vell off. Mein vater vas a respected scientist. But zey lost zat vhen zey decided to take me in.” 

Remy's heart sank. Oh….

“Vhen ze people of ze village zey vere staying at found out about me, zey zought mein parents und ze priest who baptized me had made a pact vith ze devil, und zey attacked zem!” Kurt began tearing up, his shoulders shaking, “so zey fled to amerika. Ze priest, vater Lucus Bernard had a bruder zat had settled in a small town in ze midvest. He vrote to him explaining vhat happened und he promised us safety…” Kurt was crying now. “Mein parents und Vater Lucas alvays framed it as zis…miraculous journey, blessed by God because i vas blessed, zat zey vere happy to have completed und zat zeir lives ver better for und zat it vas vorth it…but I'm not stupid! Zey had to give up everyzing for me! zeir homes, zeir lives, zeir families, all for a child zat vasn't even zeirs!”

 “Zey don't vant me to feel guilty, but how can I not?! Und people are still making sacrifices for me I don't deserve,” Kurt continued, looking at Gambit now, “Zey had to sacrifice a lot of savings so I could afford ze train to New York. Und zey couldn't afford tuition so ze Professor is covering mein education out of his own pocket! Und now you! You risked excommunication for me! How can I not feel like a curse?” It broke Remy's heart to see. Kurt looked down. “Im sure zats how I ended up on ze river bank…vhoever had me probably saw me as a curse zemself….” He muttered. 

That caused Remy to break his silence. “... Mah birth parents gave me up too,” he says, catching Kurt's attention, “ah don know why but given how da people at de orphanage treated me, it was likely my freaky demon eyes. Everyone thought ah was evil cause o dem. Nobody wanted me n ah became a street kid. Jean Luc ended up pickin me up n bringin me into da guild when ah was ten…n trust me ah caused him trouble plenty. Plenty of people also gave him crap for pickin me up, convinced I would bring nothin but trouble. Hell dey even nicknamed me “le Diable Blanc ”. You already heard da story o mah banishment, but Logan n dem had a helluva time helpin me get clean. Almost gave up on me once or twice ahm sure. “ he the turns to look Kurt in the eye. “So tell me Kurt. Am ah a curse?” He asked, “cause our stories don't sound so different from my perspective.”

Kurt stopped crying, staring at him, before smiling and leaning over giving him a side hug without affecting his driving. “Nein,” Kurt said with a laugh, “If anyzing, you have been a blessing to me here…” He then pulled away.

Remy smirked. “So you could say…” he says, “ah be like your guardian angel?” he batted his eyelashes at Kurt.

 Kurt looks at him amused but cracks a smile. “Nein. You are more of a mischievous if not friendly stove fairy, but no angel. I zink you proved zat tonight. No Angel could be so sneaky, but a fae sure could!” he retorts. Both boys have a chuckle.

“Eh fair enough,” Remy responds with a shrug. To be honest it was pretty accurate.

There was quiet for a moment.

“I'm not allowed to tell anyvon vhat ve did tonight am I?” Kurt asks.

Gambit gives a laugh. “Absolutely not, Logan would tan my hide!” He jokes, “sorry mon ami, bein mah friend means keepin all kinds of secrets!”

“fair enough, mein lips are sealed,” Kurt agrees. Remy smiles in response. Yeah. Kurt may not want him to make sacrifices for him…but he was definitely worth them. Every last one.

Chapter Text

Gambit smirked as he watched Kurt fidget in the back seat of the car, watching the landscape pass outside the window. His tail was flicking back and forth both nervous and excited. Gambit couldn't blame him. It was his first time going to New York City. Well, first time he would be able to remember being there at least. His parents stopped there when they got off the boat. Apparently passed him off as a pet monkey in the process. Gambit had to hand it to the kid, the more he talked about his folks the more he liked them.

Back to the main point, Even if it wasn’t his first day setting foot in the big apple, it would be his first day testing out his new disguise in a place that wasn’t a small town church. A much busier place than he had ever really experienced before. Perhaps on the train ride over he saw some skyscrapers and crowds, but this would be nothing like he would have ever seen before. Hopefully it wouldn't be too overwhelming for the poor guy. He already looked fidgety enough as is. 

Scott noticed from the passenger seat Kurt's fidgetiness too in the mirror. He and Alex were going with as extra support in case things went sideways. “Hey you ok there, Kurt?” he asked, nearly causing the boy to jump, “Sorry. You just looked a bit anxious.” 

“I'm fine its just…zere are going to be millions of people zere…I don't zink I have any clue vhat zat might even look like!” he exclaimed, “Und Dr. Mccoy showed me some maps…. Ze city is ginormous!!! How vill ve avoid getting lost?!” 

Scott gave a sympathetic look and Alex snickered next to him. “Hey don't worry! We've been there plenty of times over the years, outside of maybe Morph you'll be getting the best tour guides in the city!!” He assured, slapping the boy on the back.

“Also, remember, we aren't just going to go wandering through all the boroughs or anything,” Scott assured, “It's gonna be a pretty light trip. Stop by a stationary store and a drug store to get school supplies for you, get lunch at one of those italian tomato pie shops, and then-”

“It's called Pizza, mon ami,” Gambit corrected, “Pizza pie iffin ya must. You know dat Signora gonna throw a leftover spoiled slice in you face if you call it a damn tomato pie.”

Scott rolled his eyes behind his glasses. “Gambit…fine. My bad. Pizza pie,” he corrects himself, “and after that we stop by the bay where we can see the statue of liberty from and get a commemorative photo you can send home. Bing bang boom! Three objectives and we are done, and they'll be fun!”

Kurt did his best to smile. He still looked nervous but was doing his best to hide it. “Ja. I'm sure it vill be a great time!!” he agreed. 

….

The drive into the city Kurt had all but plastered his face to the car window as he tried to see everything. He marveled at every building taller than a town house, pointed out all the signs he was able to read in german, gasped at the street cars, did his best to count how many cars versus carriages he could see, and was constantly asking “Him! Look at him! Ze vay he dresses! Vhere do you zink he is from?”, “vhat language is zat?” and “vhat is zat she is selling?! Can ve stop und look? Please?” in too quick of succession for poor Scott or Alex to answer. Gambit didn't even try to answer, frankly he was too busy having to bite his lip to keep from snickering at the hyperactive curiosity of his friend.

“I'm starting to wonder if this was a good idea, I think it might be too much for him…” Scott mutters to Gambit. 

“He'll be fine! Deres trois of us to look after him!” Gambit whispers back, “sides he'd have to come ev-”

“OH MEIN GOTT ARE VE DRIVING OVER ZE OCEAN?!?!?” Kurt suddenly cried.Gambit nearly swerved from surprise. Gambit looked in the mirror to see Kurt gripping his seat for dear life but unable to stop watching from the window as they drove along the Brooklyn bridge.

“Kurt calm down, its not the ocean its just the East River!” Alex assured.

Kurt turned on him in shock. “ZAT is a RIVER?!” he cries, “zat makes ze Iova River und ze Cedar River look like CREEKS! Is everyzing bigger here?!”

“Nah das Texas,” Gambit jokes, “But yeah expect tings to be taller n bigger n closer together here. N please don shout like dat again unless you want us to end up in da river.”

Kurt tucked his face down in embarrassment and wrapped his tail around his leg. “Entschuldigung…” he says, “zis…zis is just alot…Bayville has already been a big change but zis? Zis is like ve landed in ze heart of a brand new vorld entirely!”

“It's alright Kurt. Scott forgets he hid behind Lady Ororo the entire time we first visited the city! Just stick with us and try to keep a level head,” Alex said, patting his back. Kurt nodded and gave him a smile.

“I was ten…” Scott grumbled to himself. Gambit snorted as he heard it but immediately looked away when Scott raised an eyebrow at him. He pretended instead to look for the shop as they entered Brooklyn. Well, he was looking but most trying to avoid Scott's judgemental gaze. As they got closer he slowed down. When he spotted an open area on the side of the street, he pulled the car in and shut it off. 

“We here. Tuck ya tail in, homme,” Gambit announced putting on his sunglasses, “Stationary store should just be a few blocks down.” Kurt attempted to step out into the street but Alex caught him and gestured for him to exit on his side to the walkway. When they all piled safely out and Gambit locked the car, he turned to notice Kurt turning and looking around wildly, a bright, starry eyed smile on his face, as if he was a child visiting father Christmas’ work shop. Gambit walks up to him and waves a hand in front of him, startling him a little. “You good, Kurt? You look like you gonna make ya self dizzy wit all dat spinnin,” he teases. 

Kurt turns to him with the brightest smile he had ever seen on his face. “Of course! I'm Vunderbar!” he exclaims, “Look! Zose buildings disappear into ze clouds! I can smell seventeen different zings cooking!... Und smoke, manure, und sewage, but i vill focus on ze cooking smells! Zeres so many people valking zis vay und zat but I can also hear street musicians!! Zis is like vhat I imagined ze Emerald City to be like!” He cups his hands to his mouth and starts laughing in wonder. 

“Sure iffin da Emerald city was slate grey…” Gambit jokes getting elbowed by Scott in the process. Gambit glared at him, about to retort when Scott suddenly had to pull Kurt out of the way of an oncoming bicycle. 

“Hey watch it!” Alex called after the man, “Sunday driver!!”

“But…it's Tuesday…” Kurt comments, still smushed against Scott's side, not really trying to push away. 

“It's just an expression,” Scott explained, pulling away and dusting Kurt off, “You alright?” 

Kurt swallowed and blinked rapidly, as he watched Scott do that. Gambit smirked. He could feel both confusion and excitement coming of Kurt in waves. “J-ja, I’m fine,” he responds when he finds his voice. 

Scott smiles at him. Gambit could sense Kurt's heart fluttering at that. “Good we'll have to be careful going forward,” Scott says before guiding Kurt with a hand on his back down the street, which only seemed to heighten Kurt's giddy emotions. Gambit smirked to himself again. This was gonna be an interesting day to say the least.

…

As they walked down the street Gambit noticed Kurt had some very obviously midwestern quirks he was unable to hide. Any time someone passed them and acknowledged them Kurt would smile and try to say hello. He had no sense of keeping a fast pace, and would want to try and stop at any cart and pause to window shop in the middle of the street much to the native New Yorkers’ annoyance. They had to drag him along at times. And he absolutely refused to push past people, giving everyone the right of way to cut in front of him, nearly causing them to lose him in the crowd several times. Gambit thought to himself It was a good thing that the institute wasn't in the heart of Manhattan, otherwise Kurt wouldn't have lasted 24 hours in New York.

“EXTRA EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT! KING OF ENGLAND HAS SECRET LOVE AFFAIR! JEALOUS LOVER BURNS DOWN CASTLE!”

 But worst of all of his habits, any time someone called over to them…

“EXTRA EXTRA!! PRESIDENT TAFT RESIGNIN!” called the scruffy paperboy. Kurt stopped and raised an eyebrow at him. The two made eye contact and the boy smiled. “OY YOU!” he called to the German boy.

….he would make a beeline for them. 

Gambit just barely notices Kurt change course and move away from them and towards the grimey paper boy sitting on a barrel. 

“Me?” Kurt asks, walking towards him. Gambit growled and tried to get Scott and Alex's attention.

“Yeah you! You look like a guy who likes to stay well informed!” the boy responds, hopping over to him much like a frog might. Kurt wrinkled his nose as he got closer, the boy smelled putrid but he wasn't about to insult a stranger. He tried to lean away but the hunched over teen wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in close, grinning at him and exposing his yellowed teeth. “What I got here is one of the most up to date, informational, sensational, n factuational journals dis side of the coast! n it can be all yours for only a quarter!” He shoves the paper in his face.

“Vhat? A quarter?!” Kurt stammers, trying to get away, “Zat’s outrageous und…HEY!” Kurt stops and looks at the headlines on the page. “None of ze zing you vere shouting are on ze front page! Are zey even in zere?!” Kurt questions.

The boy hops back and shrugs as Scott, Alex, and Gambit circle back and catch up to Kurt. “Hell if I know! I can’t read!” he responds nonchalantly. 

“You can’t…but you are selling papers?!” Kurt questions, utterly confused.

“So? I aint no librarian! I'm a salesman! Ya don’t need to be able to read to be good at advertizin!“ he retorts.

“Zat’s not…” Kurt stops as he notices the boys bandaged up hands for the first time. Several of his fingers seem shorter than the others. A look of concern dawns on his face. 

The paper boy seems to notice this and backs up in embarrassment, shielding his hands. “Oy!” he snaps as he does so, “The fuck you starin at ya slack jawed kraut-freak?!” 

“I-“ Kurt started but Scott and Gambit stepped between him and the paper boy, both looking livid.

The paperboy shrunk away more. “Ah! Hey fellas! What can I-“ 

“Nothin, we’re leavin,” Gambit says tersely as Scott and Alex directed Kurt away, “if we see you again don’t harass our friend got it?” The boy gulped and nodded, scampering away.

“You alright Kurt?” Scott asks. 

Kurt nods, but there’s still a look of concern on his face. “Zat boy…he vas missing fingers…” he says aloud, “somevon hurt…”

“Likely a workplace injury, Kurt, he's a street kid,” Gambit explains as stoically as he can while they walk him away, “It happens, but he’s in a safer line of work now. Don’t bother him about it. He clearly don want your pity. Let him keep his dignity n let’s just go.”

“But!” Kurt starts before Alex cuts him off. 

“Ugh, what the hell is this on your suit, man?” he exclaims touching a wet spot where the paperboy wrapped an arm around him, as he pulled his hand away some sort of slime came off of him, “Yuck….is this from that paper boy? what is it??”

“Ja…uh,” Kurt starts, something dawning on him, “I zink he is a mutant like us, he behaved und moved like a frog…ve should go back…”

“Hate to break it to ya Kurt but dere be a lot o wackadoos in dis city, n movin like a frog is sane by dem standards,” Gambit responded, “Kid's been livin on de streets, it's rough doin dat. He probably just movin funny as a result. It’d be rude ta go back n bother him about it, ya saw how he reacted when ya even stared at his fingers.”

“But zen he needs our help even more!” Kurt responds. They stopped walking. Gambit and Scott shared a look and sighed. It wasn’t like they didn’t want to help him either, but they had learned the hard way that not everyone who needs help will accept it or will be open to it. Hell, some took an offer of help as a threat, and they weren’t exactly well equipped to help everyone who needed it. They weren’t some special home for troubled boys like Boys Town out west, or any other number of religious charities for orphaned and abused kids. They weren’t even a homeless shelter or the Hull House. They were not specialized for this. They were a school for mutants to help them learn how to cope with and control their powers and fit into society, and in his opinion, Remy himself was a miracle outlier success story that probably didn't always deserve to be there….But Logan was able to help him…and no one knew street kid mentality like a former street kid so Remy could help…and if Kurt was right and he was a mutant…maybe…

The two boys nodded. “…We’ll tell the professor about him when we get back,” Scott assured, “I'm sure Logan can track him down from your jacket. If it turns out he is a mutant, we’ll go from there.”

Kurt accepted this and nodded. With that the three continued on their way to the stationary store. 

Little did they realize there was someone watching them from the shadows. A woman in disguise but one would never guess it in her white dress and ibis hat. On the outside she appeared like any other woman, but her alabaster skin was hiding the blue skin of a shape shifter beneath. Mystique watched them leave curiously, completely distracted from her original target of the frog child. She couldn’t help but let her eyes wander to the German child. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but there was something familiar about him. He was clearly a mutant as he was with the Summers brothers and the thieving Street Rat. 

She shook her head. Now was not the time to get side tracked. She had a teenager to find. As she stepped out of the alley way however, she noticed the frog-like boy had completely disappeared. Mystique cursed. Looks like she’d have to start over and track him down again…how did Charles find so many recruits when she was scrambling for even one?!

Chapter Text

The bell jingled as they entered the small shop known as Papierschmied. It smelled of dust, ink, and paper, as one would expect due to its products. It was reminiscent of a book shop in display in the front, but instead of best seller novels, the tables nearest the door were decorated in various styles of journals, from soft waxy paper bound notebooks to wood, leather, and cloth bound log books; ones that opened from the side, and ones that opened from the bottom; ones filled with graphing paper, ones with lined paper, and some plain blank ones as well. Also near the front were various three ring binder options with loose leaf paper advertised next to them as one paf being half off with each binder one bought. Other stacks near the walls had sheets of colored paper next to larger colored paper on rolls, and rolls of crepe paper and tissue paper in cubbies…which lead into a whole section of party supplies.

 From streamers to ribbons to a large magazine rack filled with custom cards. There were decorative sheets of paper covered in patterns, paper table cloths and rolls of butcher paper. They had shipping materials and stamps and other lick adhesives, prints of art, copy paper, even wallpaper swatches! But it wasn't just paper materials they had. There were shelves upon shelves of different crafting tools, pens, graphite, brushes, and bottles of ink so tall a rolling ladder was needed to reach the top shelves. And then in the back of the store next to the envelopes, letter writing kits, and postcards, was a display with a printing press advertising custom printing options, and several typewriters behind glass like works of art in a museum. 

Kurt spun around with his lips parted, trying to look at everything. “Zis is like a vizard's shop!!” he comments.

“I mean…it’s just stationary store. Haven't you seen one before?” Alex asked before being elbowed by Scott.

“Nein! Just seen ze outside of zem. Most people who offered skilled services like masonry or carpentry did so out of zeir homes. Ve only had a few shops in town in mein village. A bakery, a seamstress, a butcher, und a general store! Zere vas also a library but zat isn’t a store…. Oh! Zere vas also a music hall und bar zat vas used for all kinds of events like plays und veddings!” Kurt explains.

Alex and Scott stared at him in surprise a little. “Im sorry, people got married in a bar in your home town?” Scott questioned.

“Nein, ze ceremony vas alvays at or near ze church, ze music hall vas ze host for ze reception, alzough sometimes ze parish center vas also used for zat,” Kurt corrected, “But ze parish center vas usually used for baptisms und funeral lunches.”

“I see…” Scott said, “where did you guys get school supplies then?”

“General store,” Kurt responded simply as he looked through various pens and pencils.

“But what about groceries and medicine…” Alex asked.

“General store,” he responded again.

“But what about shoes and hardware and furniture and-” Scott asked but was cut off.

“Pretty sure you know what he gonna say, mon ami,” Gambit pointed out as he leaned on some boxes.

“I mean, sometimes mein parents vould go to a larger town like Cedar Rapids for zings but…” Kurt hesitated, gesturing to himself, “I…couldn't really come along.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as realization truly dawned on the boys. This wasn't just Kurt's first time in a big city exploring. This was his first time getting to explore anywhere that wasn’t his hometown. Kurt couldn't even do normal country kid things like going to the next town over to see a museum, or for a cultural festival or state fair. He wasn't able to wander too far from home without people who didn't know him potentially seeing him and freaking out. Hell, he probably didn't get to talk to many visitors of his village either. No watching a traveling vaudeville show or theater group, no circuses or carnivals…

It was at that moment all three boys independently decided that they had to make up for that. Any chance they got they were taking him to plays and festivals and circuses and boardwalks. The kid deserved to have some childhood joys in life. Well. He probably had some he held dear, but he deserved to experience things that were the most fun AS a kid! As the three mutant boys exchanged looks, they knew what had to be done. As soon as they were getting back home they were going to be planning out the next year of day trips. 

When they looked back to where the blue boy had been they noticed Kurt was gone. where did he go?!

“Kurt?” Scott called. It was a small store, he couldn't have gotten far…

“Guys! I vas right! Zis place is German owned!” Kurt called as he stepped out behind a display with the shopkeeper: a tall man with a beer gut, a mustache, and a balding head. “Und you vill never guess vhat else! He's from Bravaria too!!!” Kurt's eyes seemed to sparkle with joy at that.

Gambit smirked as the other two boys tried to smile and hide their tired looks. It was very clear they were going to end up sticking around the store for a while now…. And they would have to come back regularly given how the shopkeeper also seemed delighted to have another German speaker in his shop. This might just end up being the kid's favorite place in the whole city…and it was a stationary shop. They needed to find a place with more Germans….

…. 

After a few hours, long after they had gotten what they had needed, they finally managed to get Kurt out of the Stationary store and to the drug store across the way. They had gotten him journals, all the writing implements he would need, glue, scissors, lunch box, and so on and so forth…. And may have picked up some sweets at the drugstore too while they were there. Kurt and Alex were currently trying different flavors of saltwater taffy as they exited.

“Hhhhhm zis von tastes of orange…but not quite right…” Kurt mentions as he bites into one. 

“Probably artificially flavored,” Alex says, popping one of the orange ones into his own mouth, “artificial flavors never taste near enough to the real thing.”

“Artificial?” Kurt questions with a frown.

“It means it doesn't come from the actual fruit, but a chemical made by people that tastes like it,” Scott explained.

"Sometimes dey use petroleum in makin em," Gambit pointed out, earning a glare from Scott.

Kurt gave a concerned look. “... Is zat…safe???” He asked.

“Well…” Scott starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean…I don't know how it's made exactly…”

“See dis why Gambit only use natural flavor. Orange zest taste way better,” Remy argued. Scott was about to say something when they heard a commotion.

“WHATEVER YOU TOOK, GIVE IT BACK STREET TRASH!” They heard someone should. While Kurt couldn't recognize it, Remy, Scott, and Alex most certainly did and had a collective sense of dread. 

Sure enough as they rounded the corner, they saw Duncan, varsity jacket and all, holding up the scrappy newsboy from before by his collar. His legs flailing wildly, and his eyes wide as he tries to wriggle free. “Whaaaaat? No no no! Didn't take nothin! Honest! Just brushed ya!!!” the boy insisted. 

“I know you took my wallet you little goblin! Now fork it over!” The blond haired socialite growled.

Before the other boys could do anything, Kurt was running up to Duncan. “Aufhören! Aufhören!” He called trying to pull Duncan away from the frog like boy. In surprise at being grabbed, Duncan let go and fell backwards, knocking Kurt down in the process. The frog boy sat on his backside on the ground, too stunned to move.

“The hell was that for?!” Duncan snarled as he got to his feet, glaring down at Kurt, “Stupid Polack!!! What is wrong with you?!”

Kurt glared at him as he got up. “I'm not Polish, I'm German,” Kurt corrected, dusting off his shirt. 

“Whatever the hell you are, go back to the hovel you crawled out of! We have enough degenerates in this city as it, we don't need more street trash to clean up after!” He snarled.

“Vhat did you say to me?!” Kurt growled with fury, eyes flashing. It was at that moment Scott, Gambit, and Alex got between them. 

‘Woah woah woah, hold on now!” Gambit said arms outstretched between them, “Were da fire be at? Lez calm down now.”

Duncan relaxed his posture slightly but glared at Remy. “Tch, well well well if it isn't the sunglasses brigade and their little tag along,” he sneered, “the kraut with you then? Course that stupid institute would pick up another random kid from some gutter.”

“Leave Kurt alone, Duncan,” Scott growled out, standing right in front of Kurt with Alex by his side.

“I didn't do shit to him! He's the one who was attacking me!” He snapped back.

“Yeah, because you were practically throttling that street kid!” Alex interjected.

“THAT LITTLE RAT PICK POCKETED MY WALLET!!” Duncan accused spinning on his heel to point at him. 

“Zat's no reason to choke somevone!!” Kurt insisted.

While they argued Gambit helped the newsboy to his feet, before walking over to Duncan. “Dis da wallet you was talkin about?” He says holding up a small leather billfold, “found it on de ground a few paces back.”

Everyone went silent and Duncan looked dumbfounded. It took him a minute but after he stook there a moment, cheeks less red from anger and more from embarrassment, he swiped it from Gambit’s hands without a word and checked the contents. When he saw that everything was still there, he tucked it away in his jacket. “Lucky that I suppose…” he muttered, “I’ll be off then, you do what you want with the street trash. Just be careful of his sticky fingers.” He then walked away with a half hearted wave.

Scott huffed and adjusted his jacket. “Good riddens…” he grumbled, “you ok, Kurt?” He turned to the boy in question, who simply nodded.

“Vhat is vrong vith him?!making assumptions like zat!” Kurt muttered, watching Duncan as he disappeared into the crowd.

“Nah. Ah lied about de findin it ting,” Gambit said, causing everyone to turn and look at him, “kid really did pickpocket him, Gambit just stole it back when no one was lookin.” 

“Well that's just wonderful…” Scott sighed.

“Speakin of, learn how to pick better mar-,” Gambit started, turning around to look at the street kid but stopped when he saw he was gone. Remy sighed and rolled his eyes. “Alright everyone check ya pockets,” he instructed in annoyance, “make sure nothin is missin.”

Alex and Scott immediately started too but Kurt looked a fronted. “Ve just saved him vhy vould he-“

“All my money’s here but the saltwater taffy is gone,” Alex announced.

 Kurt gave a surprised look before moving to check his own pockets. Nothing was missing but it still felt like a violation that he stole from them at all after helping him. “Vhy…” 

“cause he's a desperate kid. Desperate people do shitty tings. It ain't personal,” Remy said with a shrug, “cummon, les cheer you up with some good eatin.” he slings an arm around Kurt and begins directing him away from the scene of the scuffle. Still, Kurt glanced back at where the boy had been, just briefly.  

….

Kurt had never had anything italian before outside of that one spaghetti dish Remy had made the other week, so he wasn't sure what to expect from this “pizza pie”, but when he saw the large circular flat bread covered in tomato sauce, cheese, spices and various veggies, he had a strong feeling he would love it.

Gambit watched with amusement as Kurt seemed to analyze how best to attack the pizza. He had convinced Scott and Alex to let him have the first bite, and to their regret they were finally seeing why. Kurt had no clue how to eat one.

“Zis is a pie correct? Vhere are our utensils?” He asked looking around the table.

“No, see its actually a hand held food,” Scott corrected picking up a slice and handing it it to kurt, “here, then you just take a bite out of it. No forks or knives.!

Kurt proceeded to rip a bit off with his free hand and pop it into his mouth, much to the annoyance of Scott and to the amusement of Gambit and Alex. Kurt smiled before tearing off another piece. “Zis is AMAZING!!!” he cried in delight, tearing off more and forking it down with delighted sounds, “vhat are zes herbs? Do you zink zey vould vork in deutsch food? Ooo I can taste garlic!!!” To Kurt this flatbread pie was one of the best thongs he had tried yet. Covered in tomato sauce, cheese, and tomato slices. It felt almost like a tropical dish!

“Glad you like it. Here, try this way,” Scott said, demonstrated how to eat pizza with one hand, folding it slightly, “You hands will get less messy this way.”

Kurt nodded as he tried it with the next slice as everyone else dug in. “Mmmm you know vhat vould be gutt on zis?" He says, “some kind of sausage. Especially spicy sausage. Ze extra kick vould go vell vith ze sauce i zink.”

“Next time we can order that!” Scott suggested.  

“Really? Zats an option?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah there plenty of toppings to choose from for pizza there's pepperoni, sausage, hamburger, Peppers, olives, even fish, “ Alex explained counting them on his fingers.

“Vhat about sauerkraut?” Kurt asked, causing the Summers brothers to balk in disgust while Gambit just rolled his eyes. 

“Im sorry…what? Why would you want sauerkraut on pizza?” Alex questioned. 

Kury instantly seemed to regret what he said and started laughing awkwardly. “Nein! Nein! Just messing vith you guys! It vas funny joke, ja?!” The Summers boys relaxed at that, and while they went back to their food Kurt shot Gambit a pleading look and mouthed ‘weird food club’ at him. Gambit huffed in amusement. Course the kid was serious. He flashes a thumbs up back. He hated the idea but a plain pizza he could scoop kraut onto his slices of was doable. 

The idea twisted his stomach but what was New York, if not a place for mixing cultures? Even if said mixing created culinary nightmares…big American melting pot and all that…personally he prefered the metaphor rather than the literal sense though. Even if he had opinions on certain foods, it was foreign people like Kurt that made this country so unique and what it was, bringing new ideals, new perspectives, and new ideas…and that was worth sacrificing a pizza or two to a boy's love of fermented cabbage… perhaps he could convince him after that to teach him a german sausage recipe. Now THAT would go great on pizza! The mixing of cultures at its finest. 

…

The boys ran along the sidewalk of Battery Park chasing after Kurt. He had run off as soon as he saw the shadowy spec on the bay in the distance, laughing with glee as he headed towards it

 “Slow down Kurt!” Scott cried, “the camera equipment is heavy and delicate! We can't run with it!” Kurt paused for a little letting them catch up.

“Sorry, I am just so excited!!!” He said as they got closer, practically bouncing on his toes, “I can see her on ze horizon!” As they got closer, he scampered off to the railing on the cliff side. Scott and Alex sighed while Gambit simply grinned and shrugged. What did they expect? The kid had been looking forward to this the whole trip. He heard the story Kurt told of his parents coming to America and being at Ellis island, even showed a photo they had taken in battery park soon after they arrived in New York from this place. He had to admit it was quite cute. With kurt as a baby and his adoptive mother and father holding him while embracing with the statue in the background. 

It's part of the reason why they were taking this photo In the first place, so he could show his parents how he was able to come back to the exact spot they had stood 15 years ago. How he could step out into the world without fear now, as well as show himself. 

When they caught up to him at the railing though, he looked deeply concerned. 

“Whats wrong, furball?” Gambir questioned as Alex set up the camera.

“She's…she's green. Vhy is she green?” He questioned, “she is supposed to be a metallic brown…zat is how mein parents alvays-”

“Don't worry, that's just patina from the ocean air,“ Scott explained as he walked up, “she's made of copper. When copper rusts it turns green-”

“She's RUSTING?!” Kurt cried in a panic, “Vhy isn't anyvon doing somezing about zis! Vhy are zey just letting her rust avay-”

“Calm down! Copper rust is actually a great barrier material. The green patina will keep her insides from rusting,” he explains further. 

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief at that. “Boy you scared me for a second,” he holds up the photograph to the real thing, comparing them. “Aside from zat, it is a vonder how little zings have changed…she is beautiful und heavenly. Like a figure of ze Madonna…” Even though they were miles and miles away and she seemed as small as feather from here, Kurt still marveled in awe at her, one hand cupping his cheek. 

“makes sense she got a godly aire to her, weren't she based off of a greek god or sometin?” Gambit asked.

“I think in part but I don't know which one…I know the artist designed her face after his own mother,” he explained.

“So she is a madonna in somevays!” Kurt joked, “A mutter to all americans, sent here to protect and guide you vay!”

The other boys chuckled a bit at that. “Well you aren't wrong,” Scott notes, “she is called ‘the mother of exiles’.” Both Gambit and Kurt looked at him in surprise. “What? Haven't you heard the poem written for her?” He asks, “‘The New Colossus?’ It's printed on her pedestal. I think I have it memorized hold on…” He clears his throat before speaking.

 “Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand, A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame,” he starts, “‘Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!’ cries she with silent lips. ‘Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!’”

It was a short poem, but a powerful one. Gambit gave a whistle. Still he thought it was a bit pretentious, that was until he heard a sniffle next to him. “Woah, Kurt are you ok?” Scott asked. Gambit turned to look at the boy gently dabbing his eye with a hankie.

“Sorry, ja, I'm fine…” he says waving them off, “It's just…zat how you say, talks to me?”

“Speaks to you, you mean?” Scott offers.

“Ja, ja,” kurt readjusted his fake glasses before turning back to the statue, “it's just…Sometimes I feel zat vay. I am vhat ozers consider wretched und refuse. Unvanted…”

“Kurt that's not true-”

“Scott you heard vhat zat boy said to me. Using cruel vords like Polack und Kraut. Zings zat make me sound like a creature razer zan a person. He told me to crawl into a hole…und he hasn't even seen mein true features,” he explained, “Mein parents had to flee Germany because I vas seen as unvanted, even if my parent's did vant me. Und leaving home, I worried as soon as I arrived I vould be seen as unvanted again…. I certainly didn't zink zis country vanted me, just zat I vas lucky mein parents und our community did, so ve vere able to have a safe home here.” He looks down at the photograph. “But to know I am not only good enough…but ze official stance carved at her feet seems to be I am vanted und velcomed here vith open arms…” He has to swallow a little. “Not everyone gets zrough ze process. Many do, but many are turned avay because zey are too sick, or too veak, or vould be unable to care for zemselves,” he continues, “ve passed inspection, alzough I had to be disguised as an animal mein vater vas working vith. I never got official citizenship. Und because ve had to sneak me in it sometimes felt like it vas only by dumb luck und ze grace of God zat ve got to stay. But nein…it vasn't just zat…all of us vere practically invited here. By her…I feel like…it feels like getting mein invitation to ze institute all over again.”

Scott gave Kurt a big hug and Gambit had to blink a few times to ward off the mistiness in his own eyes. Gambit also knew what it was like to be unwanted and or refuse. It was the story of his childhood before the Guild. And first joining…being told he was something special, not a demon…well he imagined whatever Kurt was feeling might be something like that. “Course you are wanted here,” he says quietly as Scott lets go of Kurt, causing Kurt to turn and look at him, “You join the institute, you basically family to us now. You worth more dan all da gold in Fort Knox. Just remember ahm de cool older brother n Scott's da square one.” He winks at the end and pulls up Kurt's cap to muss with his hair a little, causing Kurt to chuckle and swat him away. Scott had initially rolled his eyes at Gambit's unnecessary comment but he smiled as he watched the cajun show the younger boy affection.

“It's ready!” Alex called, standing next to the tripod and making some last minute adjustments, “OK guys out of the way! Kurt, you decide where you want to stand.”

“Vait! Kurt said, as Scott and Remy started to leave his side. “Is zere a vay for all of us to be in ze photo?” he asked, “You are mein friends…fellow Americans who see me as zey see zemselves. I honestly never zought I vould be able to leave mein village someday und experience vhat ze vorld had to offer. Und it vas because of you guys.” “Zis statue may represent my velcome to zis place, but it is people like you who understand und velcome people like me, zat makes zis country feel like a home,” he explained, “Even in my village I felt somevhat separate from most ozers. For ze first time in a long time…I feel like I belong here as much as anyvon born here. I feel at home. At peace. As you said…ve are like family. So it vouldn't feel right to take ze picture vithout you. I never got to know my birth country, und I never got to get zings offically stamped off in paper work. You all, you are ze reason vhy I vant to call myself an American, vhy I FEEL like I am an American. A photo vithout mein American family vould be no more meaningful zan a tourist's photo.”

Gambit and Scott smiled at him. “Hey, no need ta come up wit reasons to convince us,” Gambit assured, slinging an arm around him, “All ya had to do was ask, mon Ami. We'd all be honored ta be in your photo. Just make sure ta write on de back tellin ya ma n pa who we are!”

Scott nodded before turning to Alex. “Hey did you bring the timer? Otherwise we can take photos in shifts of sorts,” he asked. Alex gave him a thumbs up as he made some more adjustments. 

“Danke…” Kurt said, on the cusp of tears. With the time set up and everyone else in position, Alex ran over.

“Ok smile guys and don't blink for the next thirty seconds!” Alex instructed. Everyone did as they were told.

Kurt decided to lean over and whisper to Gambit. As they waited for the camera to go off. “Ya know? I zink being you guys’ friend is von of mein greatest achievements. More so zan making it here. Danke,” he says.

Gambit’s heart swelled and he had to blink for misty eyes. He paused for the camera to go off before moving further. As Alex went to set up for a second photo, Gambit leaned down. “Don worry. You'll achieve way better in de future,” he says, “Helps when ya got people lookin out for ya, mon freir." To be honest, Remy was feeling like he was doing a lot better himself lately because of Kurt. It was getting harder to imagine life without the scamp, even if it had only been a few week prior.

….

The sun was setting, and Todd was sitting on the steps of a fire escape next to a large stack of the days’ papers that had gone unsold counting and recounting what he had earned from the day. However, no matter how he cut it he couldn't seem to find enough for both a place to sleep and a hot meal for the night. He had really bitten off more than he could chew this time. But it wasn’t his fault the price of newspapers went up five cents! “Fuckin’ Pulitzer n Herst…bleedin us damn dry…” he grumbled as he recounted his coins before sighing and giving up. “Well…guess its dumpster diving or roach nests again tonight,” he grumbled. If only he had gotten away with that guy's wallet…at least the candy was filling…

“That doesn't have to be the case…” a feminine voice called from the shadows. Todd fell off of his perch in surprise, only to find himself at the feet of a woman dressed in white. A woman with yellow eyes and blue skin. Todd's eyes widened and he scurried back a little. 

“Uhhh…. Hi?” He asks anxiously. “that some interestin stage makeup…Somethin…somethin I can do for ya ma'am?”

The blue woman chuckled. “Indeed there is,” she says to him, “Today is your lucky day young man. Because I have an offer for you that could change your life.”

Todd looked skeptical. “Really now? How’s a woman painted blue-” he started but stopped as her skin and hair suddenly shifted so she now appears as a pale, dark haired woman with blue eyes.

“I have my ways. And I want you for this because we are more alike than you realize,” she says stepping forward. 

“W-who are you?!” He questions.

The woman chuckled. “As far as you are concerned? I'm your fairy godmother young man,” she says, kneeling in front of him, “And I am offering you one choice: come with me and leave this wretched life behind, get a warm bed, food, and never worry about selling another paper again, or stay here and remain a Toad.” She offers him her hand.

Todd blinked at her disbelievingly, before shakily reaching out his hand to hers anyways.

Chapter Text

Evan grumbled as he sat in the back seat of the carriage, slumped on his seat, avoiding eye contact with his aunt sitting across from him as they made their way to the Charles Xavier Institute, i.e. Evan's least favorite place on Earth. He had visited only for a few weeks during summer once a year before but his yellow hair had always made his parents suspect he would have mutant traits, thus the visiting, and now that his mutant powers emerged, he would be forced to attend school there…and Bayville's public high school, the very white Bayville public high school, as opposed to his New York school where a good chunk of the student body that he had more in common with. In all his time visiting, Evan couldn't recall a single dark skinned individual he's seen living there outside of his Aunt Ororo and Forge. Needless to say he was nervous as a result. Xavier, Alex, Gambit, Scott, Jean, and the rest of the staff were fine, but based on how white New York City dwellers acted at times…well he wasn't expecting a fully warm welcome outside the institute itself. 

“Are you feeling well, Dear?” Ororo spoke up, noticing his dower expression.

Evan sighed and rolled his eyes. “What do you think?” He questioned in annoyance, “I'm gonna be all alone pretty much and gawked at like a zoo animal…or the villagers at the Dreamland park display…” 

Ororo winced but gave him a sympathetic look. “You know Xavier would never allow for you to be treated that way…” she insists.

“Sure the Professor wouldn't but that's not gonna stop the regular high school kids,” he retorted, “Have any of them even seen a black person? Let alone a blond one?” 

She sighed. “I'm not saying it will be perfect, It wasn't perfect back home after all,” she replies, “But I promise your friends at the Institute will be by your side through thick and thin. You have Alex and Scott and Jean…and you will have another new companion attending school with you, Kurt! He’s roughly the same age as you so you will be sharing many of the same classes. Did you know he wasn't born here either?”

This catches Evan's attention. “Oh? Where is he from?” he asks with curiosity.

“He's from Germany-” she starts immediately causing him to immediately groan and slouch. 

“Greaaaat so I'm at the very least going to have to explain to him that the slurs the white kids will call me are not in fact simply the spanish or latin word for ‘black’ and hope he believes me…if he doesn't call me those words himself…wonderful…” he grumbles.

“Evan…” Ororo sighs, “... I won't deny he is not the most worldly of individuals. I was the first Africaner he had met, to be honest.”

“You aren't selling me on him well,” he replies.

“BUT,” Ororo continues, “Despite his ignorance, he is kind and excited to learn about other people. I haven't seen an ounce of bigotry from him.”

Evan was silent for a second. “Does he know we aren't Christian?” he said. Ororo stopped. In truth, the fact that Ororo and her family were muslim had not come up quite yet…they weren’t exceedingly devout, it was hard to be when mosques and arabic communities were either very new or few and far between, so it didn't come up much. The rest of the current student body and staff already knew, especially Gambit who prepared halal meals to the best of his abilities for them, so they hadn't really thought about explaining it. 

Ororo sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before placing a hand on his shoulder. “No he hasn't, but I promise you that if he does have a problem with it, you aren't going to be the one dealing with it,” she states, “we, the adults, will. We will make sure he comes to an understanding and respects you. And you won’t be treated poorly by anyone there. The institute is a place for everyone and we intend to keep it that way.”

Evan nods, still looking down but gives an appreciative smile. 

“Besides!” Ororo responds with a smile, “At least you will not have to deal with Pietro anymore!”

Evan fully smiles at that and snickers. 

….

“So…remind me again vhy ve are getting all zis cookvear out of storage?” Kurt asked as he teleported the two back from the attic with the last box of pots and pans. He had been helping Gambit all morning, first in bringing things in from a grocery run, then labeling all of the grocery items with large red stripes, then setting up a new cabinet with crescent shaped door handles, and now bringing down a bunch of cookware that he already seemed to have versions of in his cabinets, but these all had red handles or if made of glass, the glass was dyed red. 

“Ah told ya,” he said as he started putting the dishware and utensils away in the new cabinet, “We got a new permanent student comin in and he needs special accommodations diet wise.” 

“I know Ororo's nephew is coming to stay but vhy do you need separate dishvare for…” Kurt started before he got a concerned look, “Zis…zis isn't a segregation zing is it?”

Gambit nearly dropped a glass measuring cup, turning to look at him like he was crazy. “HELL no!” he insisted, “Ah may be from the south, but ah don't stand by any of dem Jim Crow laws! N neither does de Professor. Thought you'd've known dat by now!”

“Nein! zat's not it…” Kurt quickly scrambles to respond, “Sorry sorry…I…I vas just vorried ve vouldn't be allowed to share meals or somezing…I vas really excited too…”

“Ah mean, you can eat wit him all ya want just don't share food,” Gambit corrects, closing the utensil drawer, “Boy has some special dietary restrictions, so Gambit gotta use a whole separate cookware for him to avoid contamination.”

Kurt gave another concerned look. He had heard of children dying from contact with certain foods because of their bodies having issues with them…was his condition so severe his food needed entirely different utensils to prepare? “Mein Gott…zat sounds awful. He must feel so isolated…” Kurt replied, “I'm surprised he survived zis long if hos condition vas so severe…or did it only develop vhen he came here?”

“Huh? Non is not like…is not like when people can't touch sometin o dey swell up like a balloon,” Remy explained, “Is a religious ting, ya know? Like how Catholics don eat meat on Fridays. Otha religions got dey own practices. Mormons don't drink, Jews don't eat shellfish o pork, Indians from India don't eat beef, n some monks in Asia don't eat meat at all. Don't know what exactly deir faith called but is related ah know…”

Kurt's eyes widened, making a small “oh” face in understanding. “So his food must be prepared in red dishes?” he asked, trying to make sense of it.

“Not exactly, de color just an easy way for Remy to keep track o what he can use for Evan's food,” Gambit explains, “His deal a lot like de Jewish kosher diet, is called Halal, but Remy gotta make sure de food he makes for him prepared in stuff dat ain't never been used for not halal food. Don't matter if Remy wash it real good o not. Is tainted otherwise.”

Kurt dropped a red handled pot and it clanged to the foor. “Vat?! Zat sounds impossible to keep track of! Vhy vould anyvone-” he starts but is cut off by gambit.

“Kurt is de Eucharist ever blessed o served on a tin plate, or would it be ok to serve it on a gold plate dat was covered in blood?” Remy interjects, counting some red handled knives in a knife block. 

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Nein, zats sacrilegious!” He responded.

“Same rule applies here. Would be sacrilegious o Evan to eat his food iffin it was cooked in an unclean pan. And yes it is hard but not impossible. it easier to do when everyone in ya community follows de rules,” he explained, "Technically Ororo follow dis religion too, but she more relaxed wit it and don't ask fo de special tools side o tings, just make sure ah make her stuff first wit clean tools…But now dat ahm cookin fo two people, is more reasonable to have dis all on hand. Evan usually only here for a bit so Remy keep em in storage otha wise.”

“Ok zat makes sense…” Kurt says, a thoughtful look on his face, “Vat religion is it? You said it vas like ze jewish faith…”

“Is a bit like dat, a bit like christianity, bit sometin else entirely,” Remy explains as he finishes up, “Think it called Islam but people who practice it call demselves muslims. Dey believe in de same God as jews n christians, but don't believe Jesus was da son o God. He was like a prophet in deir eyes. N more prophets came after him.”

“... But Jesus rose from ze dead…how can zey believe in him but not…all his miracles…” the blue german questioned.

“Ah dunno Kurt,” Remy responds, a bit exasperated, “Ah ain’t no world religion expert. De bible say Elijah got whisked off ta heaven in a chariot o sumtin, n he wasn't de son o God ah assume its similar assumptions. Point is, to dem Jesus was a Prophet an dey got an extra book fo anotha prophet dat came after. N his teachings are why its different.” 

“Sorry…should I ask him zen?” Kurt asks. 

Remy raised an eyebrow. “You gonna bombard de poor kid wit questions about his faith as soon as he step through dat door?” Remy questions.

“Jaaaa…zats not a good idea…” Kurt responded scratching the back of his head, “I'm just curious. I've never heard of it before I don't mean any harm or judgement…maybe over dinner instead?”

“Dinner a few nights from now? Sure,” he said, “Let de kid settle in n try to be friendly first. Lord knows he don wanna be here…”

“He doesn't?” Kurt's tail twitched in confusion as Gambit crossed the room to the pantry where he kept the red label items. 

“Nope,” Gambit responded pulling out the corn starch and sugar among other items, “Tink about it. He comin from a place where dere were a lotta people kinda like him, same background, same homelife, same culture, to a place where he a lot more scrutinized outside dese walls n only Ororo really be like him, is a whole new ball game. N Bayville ain't no deep south, but dat don't mean people ain't gonna be weird to a foreigner African kid who don't blend in. Is gonna be an adjustment.”

“Oh…” Kurt responded, suddenly empathizing, wrapping his tail around his leg. He may not be able to understand everything from Evan's perspective, but he could understand one thing. He'll feel entirely out of place…a lot like me… he thought. And unlike Kurt, he didn't have the luxury of disguising himself to fit in outside the school, before even considering what his mutation was. “... Can ve do somezing to make him feel more comfortable?” Kurt asked, looking up to see Gambit mixing something in a red Glass bowl. 

Gambit turned to him with a smirk. “Whatchu tink Gambit doin?” He asked, “Gambit makin some Turkish Delight da proper way. Wanna help?” Kurt smiled and gave a nod. “Bon, now go wash ya hands,” he gestured with a spoon.

…..

Evan sighed as they pulled up to the front of the Institute. If only the ride could have lasted a few minutes longer. 

“Come on kid, last stop,” he heard Logan grunt as he opened the door. Evan rolled his eyes before hopping down and helping his Aunt down as well.  

“Welcome Evan,” he heard Xavier say, “We are happy you are joining us. We hope you enjoy your time here.”

“Thanks…” he says before turning around to face the man in the wheelchair. As he did he blinked in surprise. Standing next to him was unsurprisingly Gambit, but also someone who he had never seen before, and unlike anyone he had seen before. A boy dressed in a red shirt and dark vest, pants and boots, and he was wearing a cap and an apron…but he was also blue. Very very blue, with pointy ears and a tail that was wagging back and forth in apparent excitement. 

“Guten- er I mean, mrhban!” He greeted in a strong accent before turing to the professor, “Zat's how you say it right?” The man simply nodded with a small smile.

“oh gut! Anyvays!” the boy said before disappearing in a puff of smoke before appearing next to Evan. He coughed, choking on the sulfurous cloud before he could turn and look at the strange new kid. When he did, he could see he was not only blue but fuzzy. Evan had no clue how to respond before a plate of gelatinous red squares dusted in starch was shoved in his face. Turkish Delight? “My name is Kurt! I hope ve can become good friends und you enjoy your time here!” He continued. 

Evan stared for a moment, just blinking away his surprise. “Oh…thanks…” he said, taking a square, “you made this?”

“Gambit mostly did I just helped…” Kurt admitted, scratching the back of his head with his hand, “vas zat alright? I know I don't have ze same training Gambit does…” 

Evan smiled for the first time since arriving. “Nah it's all good! I know Remy won't steer you wrong,” He says, taking a bite and licking his lips, “mm! This is great! Just like my mom's! You must know your way around a kitchen. Have you been learning from Remy?”

“A bit but I used to help at home too!” Kurt chirped.

“Really? That's awesome!”

Ororo smiled to herself and crossed her arms. Just as she suspected. Kurt was a bit sheltered, that was true, but if anyone was going to be able to help make Evan feel at home it was him. Hopefully soon, this place could really feel like home for him.