Some of the conversation between Bobby and Hank was taken out of Pinky and the Brain. I dunno, I always thought the two pairs of friends were so much alike. ::Whistles the theme from Pinky and the Brain::
Disclaimer: Hank, Remy, Bobby, and Trish are Marvel's. David is mine. No money involved.

When We Were Very Young
Some Assembly Required
by Lee Tybird

"David! Stop playing with my chemistry equipment!" Hank McCoy cried from the doorway of his lab. He'd caught his ten-month-old son in his lab for the third time that week. "Those aren't toys!"

David gave a smile and clapped his hands.

"No, Son. Stop!"

David knocked over another vial of chemicals.

Hank rushed over and picked David up. "Let's get you cleaned off," he said. He rushed David off to the bathroom. "I don't understand you. I tell you to stop, and you insist on playing with my work. I should make a translator or something that would aid us in raising you," Hank commented. He sighed and looked at his son. "Why can't you be telepathic?"

David just tilted his head.

Hank took a wash cloth, wet it under the sink, and began to wipe the multicolored liquid off his son. "You've never shown an interest in my work before, so why are you so interested now?" he asked. "Is it the colors, the smells?"

David just stared.

"Sometimes I wonder about you," said Hank. "David, you have got to learn to control your need to get into certain things. Like Daddy's Legacy research. It's very important that you keep out of that and let the big people handle it."

David only blinked. He grabbed hold of the wash cloth and began to swing it.

Hank sighed. "Trish!" he called. "Do you understand babies?"

"No," Trish replied from down the hall. "But I think it's cute the way they get into things. Everything seems so new to them."

"Baby troubles, Hank?" asked a voice from the door of the bathroom.

Hank glanced over to see Bobby Drake. "I suppose. You're an undeveloped male, Robert, why do you think David keeps getting into my work?"

Bobby glared at Hank. "I am NOT undeveloped!" he protested. "Anyway. I think he's doing it to get your attention. I think he wants to be like you, and he wants you to know that."

"A possibility," Hank replied. "But quite unlikely. If he wanted to be anything like me, he would have gone straight for the--"

Bobby sighed. "He's a baby, Hank. He doesn't know what those chemicals are."

"You're right. Still, I wish he'd stay out of my lab."

"Maybe it's the fact that you're always in there?"

Hank stayed silent. "You may have a point, dear Robert."

"Don't I always?"

Hank shook his head. "No." Hank looked down at David, who stared back. "Are you pondering what I'm pondering, Bobby?"

"I think so, Hank," Bobby replied, looking up in thought. "But how the hell should I know where baby oil comes from?"

Hank turned to Bobby. "You are an idiot."

Bobby gave an irritated smirk. "It was a joke, genius."

"I know I am," Hank replied. "Come, there is much work to be done."

Hank picked David up off the counter, and walked to his room. He set him down in the play pen.

Bobby followed. "What are you gonna do?"

Hank turned around. "I'll explain on the way to the store."

"Dis one goes here."

"No it doesn't, it goes on the other side."

"Uh-uh, mes amis, look at de instructions."

"Remy, it goes here!"

"Remy tellin ya, it goes here."

"Will you two cease your arguing and let me do it?" asked Hank.

Bobby, Hank and Remy were in the process of assembling a play pen near the computer in Hank's lab. Remy and Bobby were having a rather hard time getting it together. The agreement was that Remy and Bobby would try to put it together without Hank's help, but if they failed, Hank would step in and do it. It was a matter of pride.

Hank respected that, but was getting impatient. He had a lot of work to do, and wanted to get started.

"Uh-uh," Bobby said. "One last shot, Hankster."

"You said that an hour ago, if I do so recall," Hank replied. "Now, move over and let me do it."

Remy sighed. "Fine. Be dat way."

They got up, and Hank sat down. He had it assembled the rest of the way ten minutes. "There. That's better."

David lay asleep in his new play pen. Hank looked over from his computer at his son. He got up and glanced around, spotting the fire blanket. He grabbed it, and placed it gently over David. Hank walked back to his chair and sat down. He continued to type. As he did so, he began to hum a lullaby.

End