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Gambit stepped out of the elevator and strode across the dark, empty cafeteria with one destination in mind. It was the end of a long, stressful day of rescuing variants from The Void, and he was hungry for pizza—his pizza. It had been playing across his mind all day while he and his team carried out their job without attracting Alioth’s attention.
There was rarely a time when the kitchen wasn’t occupied since the TVA was an organization that, for the most part, never slept. However, he had discovered an opening each evening when he could have the place to himself for a few hours before the night cooks arrived to start preparing the next day’s menu. It was when the TVA switched over from day shift to night shift. The employees working during the day went home for the night while the cafeteria closed temporarily, except for the food they left out for the night crew.
Since Gambit showed an affinity for cooking, B-15 and Mobius had given him permission to use the kitchen whenever he wanted. The first couple of times he attempted using it while the cooks were still there, it had ended up in a huge uproar that Mobius had to come and break up. He had tried telling them how a certain dish should be made, because they were clearly doing it wrong. He could vouch for it. They weren’t using enough seasoning or the right seasoning, he had claimed. Ever since then, he made a mental note to use the kitchen after everyone left to keep the peace. That way, he could have the whole place to himself to do as he pleased. He didn’t deny the TVA had some great chefs, but sometimes he preferred to eat a late dinner if it meant cooking it himself the way he wanted.
Naturally, he helped himself to whatever he wanted from the stockrooms, too, even pocketing some of it to take back to his apartment.
“So, you steal whatever you want from the kitchen?” Thori asked, his voice and clicking claws echoing in the still room. The little black Hel-Hound pup trotted along beside the Cajun’s feet, his mouth emitting an unnatural flaming vapor as usual, which helped to light their path. Jeff the land shark walked on the other side while a small group of Gambit’s clocklings rode on his back, also helping to light their path with their soft glow. The latter couldn’t sit still, however, as they balanced precariously and hung on to Jeff’s tail. The rest of Miss Minutes’ babies were sleep-charging back in their newly renovated nursery adjacent to Gambit’s apartment. The Cajun, being their caretaker, had spent an hour trying to get them settled down before coming to the kitchen.
Gambit smirked. “Sure. Why not?”
“If Miss Minutes catches you, she’ll bust your butt.”
“She ain’t gon’ find out if ya don’ tell her.” He leaned against the swinging door to the kitchen. “‘Sides, Mobius said ah can use whatever ah want when ah’m in here. It ain’t stealin’ if ya got permission.” He turned on the overhead fluorescents, lighting up a large room of beige tile floor, green walls, and glimmering stainless steel. Before going inside, he pulled off his gloves and put them inside his coat. He lifted his hand and gently scooped up a little baby yellow clock from his shoulder.
“Okay, Yvonne, ya needa get off now, buddy.”
Yvonne trilled in slight protest but allowed the Cajun to pick him up anyway. Gambit transferred him to Jeff’s back and then took off his coat and hung it on the pegs next to the door. He put on one of the white aprons hanging there.
“How ah look?”
“Stupid,” Thori replied.
Gambit waved him off. The first thing he laid eyes on when he set foot inside the kitchen was the chocolate cake sitting on one of the counters, encased and displayed on a crystal glass cake stand.
He smirked. “It’d be a shame if someone ate dat.”
Thori threw him a sly look. “It’d be a shame if someone dropped some on the floor.”
“Ah migh’ get butterfingers later.”
“What are we cooking?”
“I’mma show y’all how ta fix pizza. Ah been havin’ me an envie for some de last few nights.”
“Mrrrrr!” said Jeff, drooling. His large pink tongue came out and swept over his mouth and nose.
One of the clocklings, Didier, let out a shrill trill as if asking a question.
“Pizza. It a Italian dish. Flat bread wit’ toppin’s.”
“Noppin’s!” the clock repeated.
“Not quite, mais ya gettin’ dere.”
Thori licked his lips. “Pizza yummy. Thori want a bunch.”
Grinning, Gambit disappeared through the doorway to the stockroom. “Ah made de dough last night. It been risin’ in here. So all we hafta do is make de sauce.”
“How you manage that without cooks finding it?”
“Jus’ gotta know where de best hidin’ spots are.” He walked out with a large, covered mixing bowl in his hands and set it on the counter. He pulled off the cover to inspect it and smiled in satisfaction. “It risen big big!” He returned to the stockroom. “Ya know,” he said from inside, “we could use dis here already made up sauce.” He poked his head out and held up a jar of pizza sauce. “But we ain’t.” He threw it into the trash can. “Dat stuff nasty.” He disappeared back into the pantry. “We gon’ make it from scratch. Takes more time, but it better ta do it right.”
Thori tilted his head to the side as he listened. Jeff sat beside him, panting and drooling.
“Hey! Dey have Doritos!” Gambit remarked.
Thori’s ears perked up. “Nacho or Cool Ranch?” he asked.
“Both. Dey also have spicy.”
“Thori want spicy!”
Gambit threw him a small bag. The Hel-Hound caught it in his mouth and set it on the floor.
“Wha’ ‘bout you, Jeff? Ya wan’ somethin’?”
“Mrrrr! Mrrr mrrrr!”
“He says he wants Cool Ranch,” Thori interpreted.
Gambit threw another bag of chips. Jeff bounded forward and caught it, ripping it open instantly and devouring the chips inside…along with the bag.
“Thori uncomfortable…” He gave the shark a side-eyed glance. He ripped open his chips and calmly ate, keeping an eye on the shark beside him.
After spending several minutes rummaging around, Gambit came out with his arms full of tomatoes, spices, cheeses, bottles of olive oil and vinegar, and a bag of flour.
“I think your kids are misbehaving,” said Thori. He looked at the clocklings climbing up one of the stoves.
Gambit scowled. “Arête ca!” He dumped his supplies on the nearest surface and rushed over to pick up the clocklings. “Non, non. Ya ain’t gon’ do dat here. Dis no place ta act like monkeys. It dangerous.” He gently put them on top of the counter. Pointing at the stove, he shook his head and said, “Non! Ya don’ do dat. It bad—dangerous. Y’all sit dere an’ behave. Watch while ah learn ya somethin’.”
The clocks chittered and chattered loudly.
“Watcha fussin’ ‘bout?”
They chattered even louder and pointed toward the stove.
He cupped his hand over one of them. “Non! Ah told ya ya ain’t gon’ do dat.”
Maurice whistled shrilly and frowned.
“Ya wanna spankin’?” Gambit leaned down, his face inches from the dark blue clock. “Hm?”
The clock shook his head and chittered softly.
“Alright, den. Y’all behave.”
Maurice kissed his nose.
Gambit pulled out a deck of cards and set it down in the middle of the clocks. “Here. Play wit’ dis instead.”
“What was that about? Thori can’t speak clock.”
Gambit returned to his supplies. “Dey wanna play wit’ de knives an’ stove.”
“That sounds like fun.” Thori wagged his tail.
The mutant frowned. “Hush! Ah don’ need yer demented mind encouragin’ dem.”
“Thori like the fun uncle!”
“Nah, yer like de bad influence.”
“Which oven do we use, anyway?” the pup asked as he peered around at the many stoves. “Kitchen has too many.”
“It has to. It cookin’ for lotta people.” He nodded toward the far wall. “De kitchen, ah saw it have a stone oven for cookin’ pizza. But it needa be lit.” He gathered up his supplies and the covered bowl and walked over to a medium-sized stone pizza oven in the back corner. He sorted out everything, putting the tomatoes in one pile and the spices and cheese in another. He set aside a box of popcorn with a smile. “Dis’ll be for after de pizza. A lil’ lagniappe.”
Thori tilted his head in confusion. “What? Thori can’t speak Baby Cajun, either.”
He splayed his hands. “Lagniappe! A lil’ somethin’ extra.”
“Oh.”
The clocklings trilled loudly from across the room.
“You forgot something extra,” said Thori.
“Mais la…” Gambit sighed and walked over to gather the clocks into his arms. He brought them over to the counter across from the pizza oven and put them down there.
“Y’all can fly like yer momma. Why don’ ya do dat?”
The baby clocks walked around and investigated the ingredients without answering. Yvonne and Jeanne climbed on top of the tomatoes. Nola, Maurice, and Angélique were curious about the spices, while Didier climbed up to sit on the cheese.
“Mrrrrr!!!”
Gambit looked down. Jeff was holding his front paws up in a gesture to be lifted like a toddler.
“Ya wan’ up here?”
Jeff nodded. “Mrrr! Mrrr!”
Sighing, he lifted the shark in his arms and put him down on the counter.
“Dere!” Shaking his head, Gambit turned to examine the oven. “It been cleaned.” He picked out some large chunks of wood from the woodpile and put them inside. After a few minutes, he turned to Thori. “Ya wanna do de honors?”
Thori stood up and barked while wagging his tail. “Sure! Thori love fire!”
“Don’ ah know it…” Gambit mumbled. He picked up the pup with one hand and put him on the oven’s hearth. “Have at it, mon ami.”
Thori went inside and breathed fire into the wood—a huge burst of intense heat that ignited it immediately. Gambit took a step back.
“Thori all done!” he announced proudly, walking out of the blazing oven without so much as singed fur. The scruffy wolf-like pup with his glowing red eyes and flaming mouth, accented by the flames behind him, momentarily sent a chill down the Cajun’s spine as he was reminded what Thori really was.
“Glad ya don’ use dat temperature on me.”
Thori smirked and sat down on the hearth.
Gambit pointed at him. “Don’ ya dare.” He frowned. “Also, don’ sit dere. Ya t’ink we want yer butt where our food goes? Dat nasty.”
“Thori clean. Had bath yesterday. The child Loki even used icky soap on me.”
“It de principle of de t’ing.”
Thori snorted.
The second Gambit turned his back, Thori spat a small fireball at his backside—not hot enough to burn but warm enough to get the Cajun’s attention.
“Ahh!” He stiffened and clapped his hands on his rear and spun around. “Hey! Who gettin’ cooked here? De pizza or me?”
“Thori say both.” He grinned.
Gambit glared at him while he rubbed his bottom. “Ya watch yerself an’ tend to dat oven.” He turned around and felt another ball of heat hit his rear. “Yii!!” He slung his hands behind him. “THORI!” He glared at the pup.
“Thori don’t take orders from Baby Cajun!”
“Ya wanna make somethin’ of it?”
“Depends. You want cooked butt?”
Grumbling, Gambit walked toward the counter. Only to be hit in the backside by another ball of flame.
He spun around. “Wha’ de matter wit’ you??”
“What? Thori didn’t do anything.” He wagged his tail innocently.
“Ah bet ya didn’t, yah. Den why ah feel heat on my butt?”
“It was the oven.” Thori pointed his paw at the oven.
“Like ah gon’ believe de oven jus’ spit fire at me?”
“Fire spits sparks.”
“Dat ain’t no spark!”
Thori feigned innocence, turned, and started barking at the oven. “Stupid, vile oven! Don’t burn Baby Cajun’s butt!”
“Yer’re as useless as a pocket in underwear.”
Thori whipped his head around. “So are you, mop head!”
Gambit rolled his eyes and focused his attention on making the pizza. He pulled out some mixing bowls and a spoon, the latter he twirled showily between his fingers before placing it inside one of the bowls. He took one of the bowls, filled it with flour, and set it aside. Jeff and the clocklings watched curiously as he found a knife and a cutting board and began chopping tomatoes.
All of a sudden, a fireball hit his backside and made him jump and drop his knife on the counter with a clang. “Ow!!” He turned around, hands on his rear. “Wha’ ya doin’??”
“You’re not going fast enough, Baby Cajun. Thori want pizza now!”
“Ya gon’ hafta have patience! Geez!” He rubbed his bottom. “Ya keep barbecuin’ my butt like dat, ah ain’t never gon’ get it done!” He rubbed harder. “Phew! Dat was warmer dan last time. We here ta fix pizza, not Cajun!”
“It wasn’t that hot. Thori won’t hurt you. Thori good dog.”
“Ah ain’t so sure ‘bout dat. Ya jus’ shoot dem fireballs at de oven an’ not at dis!” He pointed at his rear.
Thori fixed him with intense eyes. “Thori shoot fireballs wherever Thori please, Baby Cajun.”
“Ya sure in a mood t’night.” He gave his bottom a final rub and turned back to chopping tomatoes. He jumped away from the counter when Jeff suddenly attacked the bowl of flour and began chomping on it.
“Jeff!! Wha ya doin’?? Don’ eat de bowl!”
Jeff gagged and spit it out, the bowl covered in slobber. “Poo! Yuck!” He wiped his mouth with a paw.
“Didn’t taste good, no? Let dat be a lesson to ya.” He looked at the bowl and cringed. “Ew dis gross! Now ah hafta start over. T’anks a lot, Jeff. Ah got de maniacal mutt back dere threatenin’ ta toast my marshmallows an’ you over here slowin’ me up!”
Another fireball hit his rear.
“Ulp!” He put his hands behind him and glared over his shoulder. He pointed at Jeff. “Hit him! Not me!”
“Your target’s more fun.”
“We here ta fix pizza or no?”
“Thori don’t know. Baby Cajun is one holding us up.”
“‘Cause ya keep spittin’ fire at my butt!”
“Thori roast your butt if you don’t move faster!”
“Gambit gon’ get fache in a minute.” He scowled. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Fou mutt.”
Thori spat a fireball that Gambit dodged. “Hah! Ya missed.”
Thori spat a fireball at his feet.
“Oh yah?” Gambit snapped his hand and threw a charged card into the oven. He realized too late what he’d done, and there was no way to reverse it. It set off a low-grade explosion that sent Thori scrambling to the floor. Bits of flaming wood flew all over the nearby area. Jeff flattened himself and covered his face with his paws. The clocklings ran for cover behind the bowls while screeching in high-pitched trills.
“Mon Dieu!” Gambit rushed around, stomping out the flaming bits.
Jeff used his paws to slap out small flames that had landed on the counter, dribbling drool on some of them.
“MRRR!!!!” he cried out as he pointed frantically at a dish towel that was catching fire. The clocklings squealed and jumped up and down. Gambit ran over, snatched it up, and put it in the sink, where he doused it with water.
“Dat all?” He stomped out one last flaming piece of wood.
“What’s Mobius gonna say when he finds out you burned up the kitchen?” Thori snickered.
“Ya started it. Don’ come cryin’ ta me when he take a rolled-up newspaper to yer sorry butt.”
“You’re the one who threw the card. Thori innocent this time. Not my butt that’s gonna get whipped.”
Gambit scowled at him.
Thori grinned.
“Ya like an annoyin’ itch dat won’ go away.”
“Thori love you too.”
Gambit squatted and began gathering up the charred pieces of wood.
Thori’s ears perked up when he saw Gambit’s bottom on his level. He uttered a faint ruff, his eyes narrowing. He trotted forward, opened his mouth, and breathed out a stream of flames on the Cajun’s backside.
“AHH!” Gambit cried out, scrambled, and fell against the counter. Since Thori could control the temperature of his fire, the flames hadn’t been hot in the slightest since Thori would never actually hurt Gambit. They were warm enough to feel uncomfortable but not hot enough to burn or ignite—comparable to a blast of warm air from an open oven. The Cajun had learned back when he met Thori in The Void that it was the Hel-Hound’s strange way of showing affection for those he liked, as annoying and embarrassing as it was. “Thori!” Gambit threw down the wood chips. “Yer’re standin’ on my last nerve now!”
Laughing, Thori took off running.
“Ah gon’ lock ya in de pantry!”
“You gotta catch Thori first!”
“Ya jus’ wait! Ah’llgetyayalilbebettepeeshwankgonwringyascrawnylilneckyah.”
Thori laughed. “Baby Cajun funny. Thori don’t understand anything you say sometimes.”
By the time Gambit got to his feet, Thori was gone, but he could hear the Hel-Hound’s clicking feet on the hard floor. He peered over the counter, glancing around the kitchen, but there was no sign of the pup anywhere.
“Where y’at?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be fun!” Thori called out. His voice echoed, so it was hard to pinpoint his exact location.
Gambit stood still and listened. The clicking toenails skittered and veered off in another direction. It sounded like he was heading toward the pantry, but the Cajun wasn’t sure.
The clocklings trilled loudly and pointed.
“He over yonder?”
Yvonne nodded.
The mutant jump-flipped over the counter and landed in the other aisle, but Thori wasn’t there. With a wild grin on his face, Gambit hunkered down and listened again to the clicking toenails. There was a sneeze, a snort, and the sound of Thori shaking himself. The clicking claws sounded again, slower. The mutant charged a card, put it on the floor, and flicked it to the end of the aisle, where he exploded it with a pop.
“You’ll have to do better than that, wimpy Baby Cajun.”
“Who ya callin’ wimpy?? Scraggle Butt.”
“Thori’s butt not scraggly!”
“Fleas probably have fais do-dos on it.”
“What you say??” Thori growled.
“Fleas have parties on it!”
A fireball came out of nowhere and burst into sparks on the floor in front of Gambit, sending him falling backward on his rear.
“Hey! Watch it!”
The clicking toenails met his ears again, and the kitchen door swung open and then closed, like someone had gone out.
“Ah-hah! Ah gotcha now.” Gambit ran to the door and pushed it open, but Thori wasn’t there. Confused, he glanced around him. Then he felt a violent tug on his apron that nearly pulled him forward. “Hey! Wha’ de??”
Another tug threatened to pull him to the floor. He strained to look behind him. Thori was tugging on the bottom of the apron, pulling it between his legs.
“Ya lil’ creep. Ya tricked me! Ulp!” Thori tugged harder and succeeded in pulling him down on his knees. His eyebrows rose and fear swept across his face when he realized what was about to happen. “Ohhh non! Non, non!” He turned his bottom out of the line of fire. “Ya ain’t gon’ burn it again!”
Thori’s mouth flames flared.
Gambit put his hand on Thori’s muzzle and pushed him away. “Each moment of dis taken Gambit away from fixin’ pizza, ya know dat, right?”
Thori’s tail wagged. “Pizza!”
“Instead of barbecuin’ me, why don’ ya go tend de oven? If ya done actin’ like a couillon, ah like ta get back ta makin’ pizza ‘fore we all starve t’death.”
“It hard choice.”
“Wha’ hard choice?” Gambit frowned.
“Pizza or running you around the kitchen.” Thori’s mouth flames flared again.
“Ya keep dem flames ta yerself an’ focus on pizza.” Gambit stood up. Keeping an eye on the pup, he walked back to the counter, where his clocklings greeted him with high-pitched trills. “He lost his mind,” he muttered. “Now, where were we?”
Jeff pointed at the oven and the dying fire. “Mrrrr.”
“Thori! De oven needs tendin’!” Gambit grabbed more wood to throw inside it. “Ya too busy runnin’ me ‘round, ya lettin’ de fire die.”
Thori trotted over.
Gambit caught him out of the corner of his eye and moved his backside out of the way.
“Uppies, Baby Cajun!”
The mutant picked him up and put him on the hearth. Thori walked inside and reignited the fire.
“Now ya tend dat while ah make de pizza. An’ no more fireballs on my pi-yi, y’hear?”
Thori snickered. “Pi-yi. Funny word. It mean butt?”
“It does, yah.” Gambit eyed the pup. “How ya unnerstand shark mais not Cajun?”
“Doesn’t everyone speak shark?”
“Non. It ain’t ‘xactly part of de human vocabulary.”
“Pity.”
“Mrrrr,” Jeff put in sadly.
Gambit turned back to the counter. The clocklings were poking the dough ball with their fingers while Jeff watched. He waved them away from the bowl. “Don’ do dat.”
They chittered.
“Y’all can help. Jus’ wait.” He pulled an empty bowl toward him. “Okay. In dis bowl, I’mma put de crushed tomatoes an’ tomato paste an’ mix it wit’ some garlic an’ onion powder, oregano, basil, pepper an’ salt, an’ balsamic vinegar.” He added everything in as he spoke. “Like so.” He pushed the bowl toward the clocklings, smiling. “Ya wanna stir dis? Since y’all wanna help so bad.” He moved the spoon around the bowl. “Like dis. Stir everythin’ together.”
The clocklings grabbed the spoon and mimicked the stirring motion.
“Dere, ya gettin’ it. Jus’ continue like dat until it all stirred up good.” He reached for another bowl. “Now, if dere no more interruptions…” He glanced over his shoulder in Thori’s direction. “Ah’ll try ta make de crust again.”
“Are you insinuating something, Baby Cajun?”
“Why would ah do dat?”
Thori spat a fireball.
Gambit quickly grabbed a bowl and held it in front of his rear, shielding it from the attack.
“Nice try.” He smirked.
“You can’t keep it there forever.”
“Ya ain’t right. Ya got ‘lotta issues, mon ami.”
“Don’t we all?”
“Can’ argue wit’ dat.”
The clocklings were at least doing a good job of stirring the sauce together, he thought. He stood there, bowl still covering his bottom, and watched them continue to stir. Jeanne slipped once and almost fell in, though. Thankfully, she was able to hang on to the spoon. Yvonne pulled her back onto the side of the bowl. Gambit noticed she was a bit clumsy in practically everything she did. Could it be that each clockling would grow into a unique personality? And why is it they still can’t hover in the air? Would he eventually have to teach them to do that?
All of a sudden, Jeff walked forward, stuck his foot in the sauce, and pressed it against the counter, making a paw shaped tomato print.
“Mrrrrr!” The shark smiled and pointed at the print like he’d done something spectacular.
“Ew, Jeff! Wha’ ya do dat for?” Gambit glanced at Thori, then back to Jeff. The only way he was going to get anything accomplished tonight was to put Thori in front of him. He knew the moment he took away the bowl, he would end up with a fireball to the behind again. He set aside his bowl and picked up Thori.
“Unhand me, Baby Cajun!” Thori hissed and wriggled as Gambit transferred him from the oven to the counter.
“Uh-uh, ya ain’t gon’ burn my pi-yi no more t’night. I’mma get dis here pizza done.”
“But, the oven…”
“Keep an eye on it from here. De moment ya t’ink it need tendin’, ah’ll put’cha back over dere.” He held up a finger. “An’ only tend de oven, yah.” He pointed at his backside. “Not dis!”
Thori licked his face.
“Arête ca!” Gambit wiped his face with the back of his hand.
“You talk funny, Baby Cajun.”
Gambit walked to the sink to wash his hands and returned to the counter. He put some flour down on the counter’s surface, scooped out the ball of dough, and began kneading it and flattening it out. Lost in his thoughts, he was vaguely aware of the commotion going on around him as Jeff and Thori started growling at each other while the clocklings trilled and chittered.
“Thori want pepperoni!”
“Mrrr rrrr mrrrrrr!”
“Pepperoni!”
“Mrrrrrr!”
“Pepperoni!”
“MRRRRRR!”
“PEPPERONI!”
“Mrr!”
“Pepperoni, bait breath.”
Jeff lunged forward and snapped at the pup, but Thori dodged the attack. “Hah!”
“Hey, hey!” Gambit scowled. He caught the bottle of olive oil just as Thori backed into it and almost knocked it over. “Y’all needa act like ya got sense. If dat even possible.”
“MRRRRRR!!”
“Wha’ he sayin’?”
“He wants anchovies. Gross! Who puts fish on pizza? Thori don’t want stinky fishies! Thori want pepperoni!”
“Okay, look. Ah make pizza for each. Dat way ya both can have yer pepperoni an’ anchovies. Ah t’ink ah gotta enough dough here dat ah can make individual pizzas for everyone. Dat sound good?”
Thori and Jeff nodded.
“Okay. Sheesh.” He mumbled in French as he went back to kneading the dough. He broke it off into individual balls to make multiple pizzas. “Y’all ‘bout ta make me lose my mind.” He stopped. “Tell ya what.” He put Jeff and Thori on the floor. “Y’all go to de pantry an’ pick out yer toppin’s. Mebbe dat’ll solve de issue.” Shaking his head, he watched the two animals run toward the stockroom, and then he turned back to the dough. “An’ don’ y’all go pickin’ out pineapple, neither. Only barbarians put dat on pizza, yah.” Smiling, he broke off a small piece of dough and gave it to his clocklings to play with. “Dere ya go.”
While Jeff and Thori were preoccupied with scavenging the pantry and arguing in their own language, Gambit quickly made each pizza crust. There was enough dough to make one for all three of them, plus some left over for a couple of extra pizzas. He shaped each crust and added the sauce and grated cheese.
“Alright, y’all. Ah’m gon’ need yer toppin’s now.”
Thori ran to him first, carrying a package of pepperoni in his mouth along with a small bag of spicy Doritos.
“Wha’? Ya gon’ eat Dortios on yers?”
“Of course! Why not?”
“Never heard of Doritos pizza, but okay.”
Jeff came up behind the Hel-Hound while carrying a package of anchovies.
“Ya don’ want Doritos on yers?”
Jeff grimaced and shook his head. “Mrr!”
The toppings were added, and Gambit grabbed one of the pizza peels and placed the first pizza into the oven. It was big enough to cook two at the same time, so the second one was added right after.
“Thori need pizza,” the pup whined as they waited.
“It probably woulda been done by now if ya hadn’t given Gambit de run-around.”
Thori smiled. “It was fun, though.”
A slight smirk curved Gambit’s mouth. He sighed, reached out, and scratched Thori’s ears.
When the pizzas were finally done, Gambit grabbed the box of popcorn and tore into it.
“Migh’ s’well fix de popcorn an’ take it wit’ us.” He pulled out several packets and walked to the microwave.
Thori grabbed up a packet, jumped across to the oven’s hearth, and put it inside.
“Thori fix his own popcorn.” He sat down and watched.
“Mrrrr!!!” Jeff said in alarm after a minute had passed.
Gambit emptied a bag of popcorn into a bowl and looked over at Thori. “What’cha do now?”
“Popcorn!” Thori shouted happily, wagging his tail.
It took a few seconds for it to register in Gambit’s mind. When it finally hit him what Thori had done, his eyes widened. He pointed at the pizza oven. “Ya stuck de bag in dere??”
“Of course!”
“Maudit.” He rushed over, pushed Thori out of the way, and tried pulling it out. The corn was already popping. “Aye-ya-yi!” Gambit flapped his hand. “It’s hot hot!” He grabbed the pizza peel and scooped the flaming bag onto it. As soon as he pulled it out, it exploded, sending popcorn everywhere.
“Yayyyyyy! Popcorn!” Thori shouted. He snapped at the pieces that flew in his direction. Jeff slurped up the ones that flew at him.
“Ya ain’t s’pposed ta put popcorn in dere, dummy!” He pointed. “De microwave!”
“Who you calling dummy?”
The bag exploded again, sending out more popcorn. Gambit backpedaled into the counter.
“Thori think this is fun!” He jumped down and gobbled up popcorn from the floor.
“Gambit think ya got screw loose.”
When the pizzas and popcorn were ready, Gambit and his friends left the kitchen in a mess and found a table in the cafeteria. On one of the trips taking food out there, Gambit grabbed up the chocolate cake and took it with him.
The clocklings were content to sit in the middle of the table, under the light, while they played with their uncooked dough. Didier sculpted his tiny piece into something that looked almost like Thori, while Jeanne put a piece of dough in her mouth only to spit it back out.
Everyone sat in silence while they enjoyed their hard-earned meal. The only sounds came from the slurping and smacking Jeff and Thori were doing as they practically inhaled their pizzas.
After twenty minutes of watching both animals vacuum up pizza, popcorn, and cake, Gambit finally spoke. “Slow down, guys. Ya wanna enjoy de flavor.”
Thori paused long enough to push out a burp. “Thori eat now; taste it later through burping,” he said as he started in on his second piece of cake.
Gambit made a face. “Ya weird.”
“No weirder than how you talk.”
“Don’ get personal.”
“Who’s getting personal? You do talk weird.”
“Okay. Well, slow down ‘fore ya devour de table.”
Suddenly, Thori’s ears perked up, and he turned his head.
“Wha’s wrong?”
“Footsteps.”
Gambit shifted his eyes in the direction of the elevator. There was movement in the darkness as a figure approached them. He could hear the pitter-patter shuffle of shoes on the floor. The night cooks, perhaps? By reflex, Gambit slid a card off the table and held it between his fingers. He relaxed when the person came into the light.
“So this is where you ran off to,” said Mobius. “Raiding the midnight refrigerator?”
Gambit smiled. “Want some pizza?” he offered.
Mobius shrugged. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll take some.” He grabbed a chair, pulled it up to the table, and sat down.
“Dere pepperoni an’ ah t’ink Jeff has some anchovies left over.”
“Mrrr.”
Gambit looked at Thori, who shook his head.
“Okay, jus’ pepperoni.”
“That’s fine. I’ve never been a fan of anchovies anyway.” Mobius picked out a slice and bit into it. “Mmm. This is really good.”
Gambit grinned.
“Did you make this yourself?”
“Yah.” He waved at the clocklings. “Ah had a lil’ help.”
Thori growled.
“An’ Thori lit de oven.” Under his breath, he added, “Along wit’ my butt…”
“You’re the one who lit the whole kitchen.”
“Lit the kitchen?” Mobius looked between them.
“Annnnn’ we got popcorn an’ cake too!” Gambit quickly pushed what was left of the chocolate cake toward Mobius.
“Wow, okay. Did you make this, too?”
Gambit ran a hand over his hair. “Um…not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
When Gambit didn’t reply right away, Mobius lifted an eyebrow. “Remy.”
“De cooks graciously left it for us in de kitchen.”
Mobius gave him a look.
“Ya said ah could use anythin’.”
“Not a whole cake, Remy. Gosh! This was probably for tomorrow’s lunch.”
Gambit stared at the table.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He patted the Cajun’s arm. “But you’re gonna bake another one tomorrow to replace it.”
Gambit nodded.
“This is really good pizza, though. You’re a great cook.”
“T’anks,” he said shyly.
Mobius looked around. “Where’s Miss Minutes?”
“She spendin’ time wit’ T-Gambit t’night. She be ‘round later when ah get back to de apartment.”
Thori smirked. “To tuck you in?”
“Nah. We gon’ play poker ‘n’ drink beer,” Gambit quipped.
“With your mother?”
“It was a joke—sarcasm.”
“Thori knew that.”
Mobius chuckled. “You two are such a pair.”
“It like havin’ a hairy baby brother who obnoxious.”
“Thori older than you, which makes you baby brother, Baby Cajun.”
“How ya know? We both been in de Void.” Gambit flinched. “Ah don’ even know how old ah am anymore.”
“Technically, you’d still be the same age as you were when you went in,” said Mobius. “But there’s no time here at the TVA, or rather a different flow of time, so you’re still not gonna grow any older than you are now.”
“Ya mean…ah stay like dis forever?”
“Yeah. Unless you ever decide to go back to the timelines.”
Gambit wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, it was exciting to think he’d stay young forever, but on the other hand, would he be able to find enough to do to make it worthwhile?
“You a puppy, tho,” he continued, talking to Thori. “I’mma adult. Dat makes ya de baby brother. ‘Cause clearly ah’m older.”
“An adult who still sucks his thumb.”
“Don’ ya bring dat into dis! It has nuttin’ ta do wit’ wha’ we talkin’ ‘bout.” Gambit rolled his shoulders. “‘Sides, ah only do it at night. It helps me sleep.”
“You still get spankings.”
“Hush yer mouth.”
“Just saying.” Thori turned to Mobius. “He called me a doo-doo.”
“Ah did not! Ah said fais do-do. Doe-doe. Like dough.” He held up some pizza crust. “Or a deer. It mean party in Cajun. Ya know…a hootenanny.”
“I told you you talk weird.”
“It also mean go ta sleep, which is wha’ ya needa do so ya can hush yer mouth.”
“Thori can’t help it if I can’t understand what you say.”
“I’mma gon’ learn ya.”
Mobius laughed. “You two sound like an old married couple.”
Gambit rolled his eyes. “It been like dis all night.” Addressing Mobius, he asked, “How old are you?”
The question hung in the air as Mobius stared at the lamp in the middle of the table, completely ignoring the clocklings playing under it.
Finally, he shrugged. “I dunno. Haven’t really thought about it.”
“Ya don’ have birthdays here?”
“There’s been no need since…since up until now we’ve all thought we were created by the Time Keepers.”
“So…ya could be a million years old an’ not even know it? Like dat He Who Remains guy Miss Minutes told me about.”
Mobius looked at the mutant. “Yeah…I guess.” He looked at the pizza grease on his hands. “I need to wash my hands.” He got up and walked to the kitchen door, obviously bothered by the conversation. After all, it was another reminder that he was a variant that had been pulled out of his life on the timeline.
“Ah wouldn’t go in dere, mon ami.”
The analyst stopped, giving Gambit a quizzical look. “Why?”
“‘Cause ah wanna sleep t’night wit’out my butt hurtin’.”
Gambit and Mobius held each other’s gaze, and then Mobius turned and entered the kitchen.
Gambit squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the worst.
Within a few minutes, Mobius slowly walked back out.
“I’mma clean it up, promise.”
Mobius stabbed a thumb at the kitchen door. “What…happened…in there?”
“Would ya believe an apocalyptic event?” The mutant smiled sheepishly.
Mobius put his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side. Finally, he sat down in his chair. “You’re definitely going to clean that up.”
Gambit searched his face. “Ya ain’t gon’ spank me?”
“What? Why would I spank you?”
Gambit shrugged. “‘Cause ah destroyed de place?”
The look on Gambit’s face hit Mobius hard. He looked so much like a little boy in the table’s light. Why was he afraid he’d be spanked for simply messing up a kitchen? Then it hit him that all of this was still relatively new to the mutant, because he’d probably never been punished as a child, or taught right from wrong for that matter—growing up stealing and feuding. His adopted father, Jean-Luc, hadn’t exactly been the best role model for a boy who spent his childhood growing up on the streets.
He squeezed Gambit’s arm. “It’s okay, bud. You’re not in trouble.”
Gambit looked from his empty plate to the analyst, his faintly glowing eyes searching his face.
Mobius smiled warmly. “You’re not in trouble,” he repeated. “I’m not gonna spank you for everything. That’s not the way it works. Spanking is a punishment reserved for really bad offenses. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s a dirty kitchen. Kitchens get dirty when you cook in them. That’s normal. The right thing to do is for you to go in there and clean up the mess you made and make sure you leave it as you found it.”
Gambit smiled and nodded.
“You know when you opened the door and let out all these guys?” He pointed at the clocklings. “That was a spankable moment, because you willfully disobeyed your mother right after she told you not to do it.”
Gambit nodded that he understood.
“Miss Minutes was right to whip you for that.”
Gambit pursed his lips.
“She specifically told you not to do something for a reason, but you did it anyway behind her back. That earned you a spanking.”
Gambit stared at his plate and shifted his feet under the table.
“She did it to protect you. I know it’s hard to understand that, but what if there had been something dangerous behind that door? What then?”
“Mais dere were jus’ baby clocks.”
“I know. I know. But the fact is, you disobeyed when someone told you not to. The next time it happens, it could be something dangerous.” Mobius shuddered. “Something that could take your life.”
Gambit nodded. “Ah unnerstand.” His thoughts drifted back to his clocklings climbing the stove, and he looked over at them. They had rolled the dough into a ball and were kicking it around between them.
“I’m not gonna spank ya for a dirty kitchen, buddy.” He reached over and patted the Cajun’s arm. He smiled amusingly. “Although I am curious to know how you can make a mess like that just cooking pizza.”
Gambit quickly pointed at Thori. “He been hangin’ ‘round Lokis too long.”
Mobius smiled and shook his head. He studied Gambit. The Cajun was no Loki, but he was still a victim of life’s cruelty just as Loki was, and it hit Mobius. He might have lost Loki, but life had brought another wayward soul into his life who needed him and his guidance just as much. Miss Minutes was doing a good job with her part; now it was his turn to step up and fill the gap Miss Minutes couldn’t fill. He scooted his chair closer to the Cajun, gently reaching out and wrapping his arm around the other man’s shoulders.
“C’mere, big guy.”
Gambit was taken by surprise by the sudden show of affection, but he didn’t question it. Instead, he welcomed it. There was something comforting about Mobius having his arm around him. He had stiffened at first, but then relaxed into the embrace. He was tired and felt sleep approaching. In the short time—long time? Hard to tell when there was no time—they’d known each other; Mobius had felt like a father to him. More so than Jean-Luc ever did. Mobius wasn’t afraid of him and didn’t care about his power. He wasn’t even fazed by it—didn’t care that he was different. More than that, he didn’t care about using him to get to that power. He treated him the same as everyone else—like a human being. He’d been the only one besides Miss Minutes who had cared enough to look after him after the TVA took him from the timeline. He’d been the only one out of the entire TVA that had looked past him being a variant and saw the confused, lost, frightened man he’d been after learning the reality of this new life.
They say everyone has a gift. It was clear that Mobius’ gift was connecting to the innermost part of the soul and making you feel wanted and important, even though the old TVA treated variants like something less than human. Mobius treated people like they still mattered—like there was still hope for them—despite being thrown away by the organization he worked for.
Mobius’ arm around his shoulders made Gambit feel safe. Although he wasn’t sure what it was he needed to feel safe from, since life had taken a drastic turn for the better. He was in a place where he didn’t have to worry about anything anymore, except for the sting of Miss Minutes’ brush. Maybe it reminded him of that day so long ago when he had a meltdown in the prison cell and Mobius had gathered him into his arms and made him feel like everything was going to be all right—made him feel like the TVA couldn’t penetrate through Mobius’ hold on him.
Sighing contentedly, he allowed his head to lean against Mobius’ shoulder. Mobius smiled. For the next several minutes, they sat in silence with Gambit’s eyelids drooping.
“I think it’s time all of us were in bed. Hm? You look exhausted,” Mobius whispered. He gently tugged on the Cajun’s ear.
Gambit grinned at the playful gesture and drew his shoulder up. He nodded and yawned.
“I’ll help you wash the dishes if you want.”
“Nah, dat okay. Ah can wash dem.”
“You sure?”
“Ah’m sure, yah. Ah’ll clean up de kitchen.”
Mobius hugged him and pulled away, getting to his feet. “Okay. If you don’t need me, I think I’m gonna head out. Gonna catch a few winks before B-15 pulls me in on something else. Thanks for the pizza.”
Gambit nodded. He watched Mobius disappear into the dark, the sound of the elevator dinging and opening its doors across the room announcing his exit. He was sad to see the older man go, but he knew he would always be there for him, and that thought made him smile.
Thori and Jeff were partly asleep in their chairs, Thori’s head resting on the table.
“Alright, guys. I’mma go clean up.” Gambit cleared the table and took the dishes back to the kitchen while Jeff and Thori cleaned up any uneaten food.
After the dishes were washed, dried, and put away, the kitchen was clean, and the oven was checked to make sure the fire was completely extinguished, Gambit walked to the pantry. Before leaving, he stuffed his pockets full of bags of chips and packages of cookies.
Thori approached and peered up at him.
“If ya tell anyone ‘bout dis, I’mma skin ya.”
“Why would Thori tell anyone?”
He handed a bag of spicy Doritos to the pup.
“Is this payment for not telling?”
Gambit smirked. “Yah.”
“It going to be a lot more than this.”
Gambit sighed. “Okay. Ya win.” He handed Thori a package of cookies.
When they returned to the apartment floor, Jeff and Thori disappeared through a pet door inside the door to No Eyes Loki’s apartment next door. Gambit entered his own and shuffled to the bedroom, where he slipped off his coat into a nearby chair.
“Hey, Remy!”
Gambit turned and smiled when he saw Miss Minutes walk up to him and kiss his forehead.
“Hey, petite.”
“Did’ja have uh good time?”
“Ah did, yah.” He scooped out the clocklings nestled inside his coat pockets. “Apart from Thori trynna roast my butt.”
Miss Minutes rolled her eyes and smirked.
Gambit opened a door between his night table and the bathroom and walked inside the nursery to deposit his clocklings into their beds. When he returned, closing the door, he yawned and started undressing.
“It been an active night. I’mma ready for bed.”
Miss Minutes patted his bottom once he took off his boots and pulled down his pants.
Gambit smiled cheekily. “It been a good night wit’ good conversation. Ah’m fulla good food an’ ready for some pamperin’.”
Miss Minutes laughed. “Ah shoulda known.” She playfully yanked his boxers partway down.
The mutant looked at her over his shoulder. “Ah hope ya jus’ playin’ wit’ me an’ ain’t plannin’ ta put pain back dere.”
“Aww. Ah ain’t gunna spank ya, darlin’, unless ya give me uh good reason ta. Have ya been good?” She walked over to wait on the bed
“‘Course ah been good.” He pulled off his armor and set it aside, not bothering to pull up his underwear. “Gambit always good, petite.”
The clock laughed and waggled a finger at him. “That’s uh lie if’n ah ever heard one.” She zipped over and smacked his bottom.
“Ow!” He sidestepped. He knew she was only playing with him, though, and cracked a huge grin. “So, did’ja have a good time babyin’ T-Gambit?”
Miss Minutes laughed again. “Yeah, ah did.”
“He havin’ a temper tantrum over ya doin’ it?”
“No, not this time. He’s gettin’ used ta me lovin’ on him in that way. Ah think he loves it.”
“‘Course he loves it. He a Gambit.”
Miss Minutes pulled back the covers on the bed and fluffed his pillows. “Now, ah jus’ need my other baby.”
Gambit’s grin grew wider as he slid into bed to lie on his stomach. He couldn’t help thinking to himself that life couldn’t be better.
-The End