Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men: Evolution, Peeps, or any Easter candy whatsoever.

A/N: My contribution to the holiday. Remember I Do Not Wear Green? This is along those same veins. I'm thinking of doing a series.

The younger inhabitants of the mansion were sitting around the kitchen table coloring Easter eggs. The adults-and Jean and Scott-had left them to it after extracting a promise that all messes would be cleaned up before they had the chance to stain.

Kitty put the finishing touches on her pink egg and smiled at Kurt, whose egg was, predictably, blue. Bobby grinned and pretended to throw his yellow egg at Jubilee. She actually did throw her-also yellow-one at him, but he caught it gently, so that was alright.

It was a rather peaceful afternoon for the Xavier mansion.

Rogue swirled red paint along the lines of black she'd already added to her egg. Lost in thought, she didn't even notice the presence behind her until his voice sounded in her ear.

"Chere, Remy can't help but notice the partic'lar colorin' of y' egg, dere."

She jumped. "Swamp Rat, scare me to death!"

He chuckled, sliding into the seat next to her smoothly, and settling his half-gloved hands on the table. She rolled her eyes at him and went back to coloring her egg, noticing with a scowl that he had a point. Her egg did have a… particular color scheme. Darn sub-conscious.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, ignoring the way her bangs fell in her face. He was staring at her, a strange smile on his lips, and she felt her cheeks grow a little warm. What was wrong with him? Didn't he know it's rude to stare?

"Cajun?"

"Hmm?" he sounded startled. She grinned to herself. "Why aren't ya decoratin' an egg?"

His red and black-gorgeous-eyes widened in horror. "Chere! How can y' ask dat? Fo' dat matter, why are you decoratin' un?"

She looked at him in confusion. He stared back at her, obviously not comprehending what she was missing. Deciding he needed a prompt, Rogue gestured with her egg, noting with amusement that he leaned away from it like it was a hot poker. "Remy, Ah don't understand what ya mean."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Y' don' know de story of Easter."

She sighed impatiently. "Of course Ah know the story of Easter. Jesus was resurrected after dyin' on the cross. What's wrong wit' that?"

He shook his head again. "Non, dat ain't de problem. It be de eggs dat's de issue."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

He glanced around at the pre-occupied children and smiled sheepishly. "Ain't really a kid's story, chere."

She laughed. "Oh, come on, Swamp Rat, how bad can it be?"

He gave her a look, then leaned over and whispered in her ear.

The table's occupants didn't really pay attention to the arrival of the mansion's resident Cajun. They all knew that where Rogue was, it was only a matter of time before he showed up. No one was surprised when he appeared and sat by Rogue, and nobody acknowledged their conversation at all.

Which is why they were all surprised when Rogue let out a squeak and dropped her half-colored egg with a horrified look on her face. She jumped to her feet and tugged at Remy's arm.

"Ah think Ah'm done wit' the eggs, Cajun. Hows about you an' Ah go do something else? We could take a ride on your motorcycle."

His eyes lit up, and he agreed amiably, smirking at her a little bit as she carefully avoided the full baskets of eggs sitting all over the kitchen floor on her way to the door. Sending the staring workers a two-fingered salute, he followed the stripe-haired Southerner out of the kitchen and to the garage.

Kitty looked at Kurt, puzzled. "What was that about?" she asked. The fuzzy blue mutant shrugged. The egg-coloring mutants looked around the table at each other, then shrugged and went back to work.

Rogue muttered something into his back. "What was dat, chere?" he said over his shoulder.

She lifted her face from where it was buried in his trench coat and said, "Ah said, Ah can't believe Ah've been paintin' eggs all these years an' the whole thing started with infanticide!"

He chuckled against her arms, which were wrapped around his waist as they rode his motorcycle. "Mos' holidays 'ave origins like dat, chere. It ain't so bad."

"Yeah, but what 'bout the rest of the story?"

He winced a little. "Yeah, dat part's pretty bad."

"Ya think?"

"Well, don' be mad at Remy! I ain' de one who was carryin' on traditions of ritual sacrifice symbolically t'rough de paintin' of eggs!"

She shuddered. "Ah am never doin' that again."

He grinned. "Does dat mean y'll have mo' time fo' dis Cajun?"

She smiled a little. "Ah guess so. Ah'll have to do somethin' with my time."

"Should we tell de others, do y' t'ink?"

"Are you kiddin' me? Kitty adores the holidays. If we told her this…"

It was his turn to shudder. "Non, y' right, chere. Best keep it between us."

She nodded. "Right. Just us."

He sighed happily. He did love to hear that phrase from her.

A/N: For the full version-possibly falsified, but given to me by a (so far) reliable sourcereview! I'll tell you what Remy told Rogue.

Let it be noted that I love the holidays, and I love the meaning of Easter, that of Jesus being risen, but the tradition of Easter eggs and bunnies is one that I gladly pass up.