Quixotic

Quixotic Chapter Thirty Three (NC-17)

Disclaimers Apply

 

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…GOOD LUCK!!! *sends scores of kilt wearing sparkley muses
to give you luck * InterNutter, TC,
Maxwell Pink and Dracena are squishy and sparkley for archiving/hosting! J ProPhile…sorry if I got you fired! Morgan gets huge Remy points because she
made me laugh and took someone down a peg or ten. J *snoopy dance * Readers/Reviewers: *duck cabaret kick line * Thank you!!!!! This is almost it…chapter 34 will be it then… new fic!

 

 

 

Rahne
passed the smooth beads through her fingers, moving from the Pater Noster to
the chain between them for the Gloria Patri[1]. The church smelled of frankincense, myrrh
and benzoin[2], heady and
blue in the air. It was not home, but
it could pass. She shifted her weight
on her knees slightly, resting her forehead against the cool wood of the pew in
front of her and breathed out “amen.”
The church was warm, almost too warm, despite the cold wind blowing just
on the other side of the stained glass saints and Stations of the Cross. It was an hour before Mass and already the
place was nearly full, almost all the way to the last row where she sat near the
fonts of holy water and the red novenas to the Virgin. She sighed again and redoubled her efforts
at prayer, willing her mind not to stray and her mantilla not to itch so
much. A shuffling to her left made her
scoot closer to the cold stone of the old church’s wall, moving on her knees
down the kneeler. There was a metallic
clanking and a muffled hiss as something hit the floor. She opened her eyes
fully expecting to see and old lady struggling for her cane and nearly choked
on her Latin. “Jamie!”

He was
balanced precariously on one foot, his crutches between the pews. “Um,ld yld you scoot a little more?”

Rahne
hurriedly moved against the wall and made room for her boyfriend. After some struggle, he managed to get his
crutches within reach and settled almost comfortable in the pew. “Well,” she said, “this is a surprise.”

Breathing a
little harder than usual, he replied, “Merry Christmas.”

“Did you
want to come here?” she asked suspiciously, aware that the priest and altar
servers were gathering in the narthex to begin the processional. She motioned to Jamie for silence and stood
with the rest of the congregation.

Jamie did
not even attempt to stand but waited for the interminable minutes for Rahne to
sit back down. “I wanted to come,” he
said sotto voce as the priest intoned prayers in Latin. “For you.” “But not
for you?” she asked out of the side of her mouth. “Go home, Jamie.”

He growled
under his breath. “I had to get Scott
to drive me here, haul my ass up the slippery steps on crutches… I’m staying!”

Rahne did
not even turn her face to look at him but stood with the rest of the
congregation again. Upon sitting down,
she said heatedly, “I didna ask for ye to haul your ass here!”

Jamie
rolled his eyes. “Hush.” He made a small show of flipping through the
hymnal and joining in the short song before the reading. As the lector took the podium, he muttered,
“Besides, no way was I staying home with all Hell breaking loose.”

Rahne
raised both brows. “Oh?”

“Long
story,” he sighed. “Now hush.”

Rahne kept
her lips sealed for at least half an hour.
Finally, she burst out in a staccato whisper of “Jamie, it’s no use
comin’ ta mass if ye don’ want to be here!”

Jamie
closed the hymnal with a snap. “I’m
here because I love you, for fuck’s sake!”
His face grew suffused as several people shushed him and expressed muted
horror at his language.

Rahne
giggled. “Merry Christmas, Jamie.”

“Back
atcha,” he sighed. “I’m still not
Catholic…”

“That’s
okay. I love you anyway…”

 

 

Jubilee
covered her eyes with Lucas’s feet then peeked through his toes with a
grin. “I see you!”

Lucas
burbled happily and promptly spit up.
Remy made a face. “He ain’t got
nothin’ left ta bring up!”

“You’d be
surprised,” Jubilee intoned wisely, quickly picking up the now soiled infant
and hustling him into the bathroom for clean up.

Remy
shifted restlessly and frowned. The
array of baby items, just for a short visit, boggled his mind. I don’t go through dis many bottles in
one weekend…”Chere?”

“Yeah?” She rememerged from the bathroom slightly
damp with a diaper-clad Lucas. “Hand me a onesie, would you?”

“A…quoi?”

“Onesie. One of those one piece thingies…” She found it herself and settled Lucas on
the bed. “You were saying?”

“I jus’…. I
dunno… Dis all so new…”

“Tell me
again…how’d you find the test stick?”

Remy
blushed slightly. “I knocked over yo’
trash can an’ dere it were…”

“What color
was the window?”

“Pardon?”

“Pink? Blue?
One stripe or two? A plus or a minus?”
She did not stop changing Lucas or even look at Remy while she spoke,
biding her time.

“Uh…”

“Here, you
hold him…” She handed Lucas off and
smiled broadly. “Why do you look so
sad? Isn’t this fun? Just think….one day we’ll have one of our
own and we can do this every night!”

Remy felt
ill. “Ah…”

“Oh! The wedding!” She bounced to her feet and hurried to her closet only to drag
out a massive plastic storage container.
“Jean and Kitty let me borrow all their girly magazines for that collage
project last month and I never gave ‘em back.
Now, I was looking at dresses and wanted to know what you thought…”

He
swallowed hard, wondering if the room was moving or if it was just him. “One strpe.”

“Huh?”

“It had one
stripe…”

She made a
humming noise and rummaged through the box.
“I figure a huge wedding… How about in California? I’ve got people there….”

Remy
settled Lucas in a nest of pillows and rose to his feet, starting to pace. “Well, mebbe we bes’ jus’ do it quick like…”

“Aw…but I
want to wear a white dress! Though that
is like closing the barn door after the horse is out,” she laughed, rocking
back on her heels. “You look sick…”

“Jubilation,
je t’aime toujours, mais…”

“Yes?” She knew it was coming but part of her still
panged.

“I can’t do
dis…it too fas’! I’m gonna help wid d’enfant an’, Hell, I love you. Mais marriage…”

“I’m not
pregnant, dumbass,” she said flatly, rising to her feet. “Never said I was, either. You assumed. You didn’t read the directions in the trash, did you? The test was negative.”

“Why you
ain’t tellin’ me?” he demanded.

“Because it
was negative!” she responded hotly. “No
use in you worrying about it until I knew for sure and when it was negative, I
threw out the test and moved on.”

“Jubilee!”

“Hold it
right there, Gumbo. You go sneaking
around, thinking I’m knocked up, telling St fucking John I’m knocked up, and
you don’t even think to ask? Then thi think we HAVE to get married if I am?
Hello, it’s the twenty first century!”

Remy
crossed to her, ignoring Lucas’s whimpering and instead pinning her to the
wall. “Den why you say oui?”

“Because,”
she said venomously, “you deserved the heart attack for being a rat!”

“I weren’t
a rat!”

“And I
wasn’t pregnant! God bless Margaret
Sanger!”[3]

Remy closed
his eyes briefly then fixed her with a hard glare. “Next time, you tell me!”

“Next time,
don’t ask me!”

“Je t’aime,
folle fille.”

“Love you
too, Cajun.”

 

A/N Next chapter, Kurt’s problem is solved.

 



[1] Pater
Noster, for my Non Catholic readers, is the Our Father/Lord’s Prayer. Gloria
Patri—Glory Be, Ave Maria—Hail Mary, Credo in Deum—Apostle’s Creed

[2] AKA Three
Kings incense and the most commonly used ceremonial incense in Roman Catholic
rites.

[3]
Groundbreaking birth control advocate waaaaaaaaay back in the day.