#regressor!carmy

“Everybody pisses and shits and— everyone takes bathroom breaks, Carmen! It’s a legal obligation!”

“I just— I can’t— every second—“

“Don’t you use that bullshit sign as an excuse. That’s not what it's meant for and you know it.”

“Fine! I.. I can’t.. can’t—“ He throws his hands up in frustration and they ultimately find their way into his hair to tug on in frustration. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I get so focused on work that I can’t take a break until it’s perfect! Or I feel like I’m…” a failure. A bad chef. A horrible person. A disappointment. “Like the whole restaurant will close down if any of the dishes that go out end up anything less than… than the perfection I know I’m capable of.”

“That’s fucking OCD, Carmen! Get a therapist!“

“I don’t want a fucking therapist!”

“No you’d rather just piss your pants at work, huh?”

“It’s better than the acci—!” He started to yell back but instantly knew he fucked up with the look Richie shot him, his hands fall to his sides and his volume falls with it. “A..cc..idents…”

“The what?”

“I..I-I told you I.. focus so hard on my work that I don’t.. I don’t notice anything else. It’s like… tunnel vision and.. I wasn’t.. really.. taking care of myself.”

“You— how do you— how does a grown man not visit the bathroom once at work and not realize his bladder is trying to fucking explode?” He shakes his head, scoffing sourly. “What am I saying? You’re the same man that didn’t eat a meal for like three days because you were too busy cooking for others to cook for yourself. Of course you’ve had ‘accidents’. You’re a mess.”

Carmen’s face was red with anger and shame, looking down at his hands as he picked at his nails. He hated doing that. He hated that stupid habit. He liked his nails neat. But Richie had him so worked up he was making them a terrible mess and he couldn’t stop to look up at him. Or maybe that was just the shame keeping him from meeting his cousin’s gaze after he’d just learned the two probably most embarrassing things about him. 

Richie takes a few minutes, leaning on the counter with his face in his hands as he tries to get a grasp on the situation without trying to beat some sense into Carmen. That wouldn’t solve anything. The kid’s OCD wouldn’t leave him after a punch square to his stupid little jaw… but it would feel really satisfying for Richie. 

“So… okay. You’re wearing diapers. Because you refuse to take breaks—“

“Not on purpose–“

“Shut up, Carm. I’m talking.” He shuts him down instantly, not wanting to hear the explanations or excuses anymore right now. “You’re wearing them. You’re not taking breaks..” 

Richie runs his hands down his face, turning his head to look at Carmy with an exasperated… absolutely exhausted dad look. “I mean… you’re telling me you managed to unpotty-train yourself?”

“No– no! I… sometimes it– I read online that– it happens when… someone–”

“Has a load of trauma so heavy it cripples their body–”

“To regressors! I was going to say it happens to fucking…” he takes a deep breath and sighs out his next words, leaning over the counter opposite of Richie as he starts to give out. Not just on the argument and defending himself but also keeping all these secrets only to himself. “..age regressors…”

“Wh.. what the hell is that shit? Age regressors?” Richie was only feeling more and more stressed as this went on because no matter how he came off sometimes he wasn't stupid. He could break down the two words and fit em back together but he didnt… even so it didnt click to him. “You talkin magic now? OCD? Or just… talking about your skills dipping? Cause you know we can’t survive if you have moments you can't cook– and we certainly don't do that magic haunted ghosty shit–”

“What? The fuck are you talking about? How did you get magic from age–” Carmen waves his hand as he shakes his head and drops the question. They would just go in circles forever if he didn't just move on. “No. It's like… mental state. Adult to… something younger. It's not… always voluntary–the stress triggers it but I can usually like…cook on autopilot so it doesn't affect my work that much but… my body doesnt… seem to… i cant get it to–”

Richie squinted at him as he takes a moment to think it over then interrupts him, “To stay on adult autopilot too.”

“Exactly…!”

“Heard. So… you didn't unpotty-train yourself on purpose.”

“I keep telling you no!”

“No I mean– you didn't do it. This mental age thing did.” Carmy wanted to correct him but he just gives up on it and shrugs with a half committed nod, it was about as close to being right as Richie would probably be able to understand without experiencing it. “You get too stressed at work. Age regress. Keep working. Piss your pants.”

Carm buried his face in his hands, leaning further on the counter until he let go of his head to press his forehead against the counter top. The constant reminder of wetting himself felt so exhausting and humiliating. “...rinse and repeat.”

“Actual rinse?”

He barely peeked up at Richie to silently ask, ‘what the fuck does that mean?’

“Changes, Carm. Cleaning off. Putting a new one on.”

“What are you asking me?”

As a dad that had changed countless diapers when his daughter was young, his warning lights were going off in his mind over his little cousin’s responses the more he soaked in the idea of him having been using protection like that. If Carm hadn't been leaving the kitchen all day… was he just working in soaked padding for hours? That… would be horrible for his skin. “How often are you changing them?”

“Wha.. I– you can't ask that!” Carm threw his hands out at Richie's audacity, fumbling over his words as he struggled to even form an answer to that in his mind.

“The hell I can't. Did you even change once today?”

As the chef continues to stumble over an answer, Richie loses his patience and starts to round the counter, intent on just looking for himself. But Carm catches on quickly and backs away from the counter, watching him with unease.

“Okay– wait– hold on a moment, cousin–” Richie stops for only  a second to give Carm once last chance to convince him he was taking care of himself but when the chef only stumbles over his words again, shuffling one foot back like he was thinking of booking it– Richie surged forward. 

Sprinting after him, Carmen does the only thing a kid would do and tucks tail, running to escape the kitchen before he would be wrestled to the floor in the same manner his brother and Richie used to do to him as kids. “Dontchu run from me, mister! Get your rashy ass back here!”

“Jesus christ– you fuckin jagoff– leave it alone!” They weave through the empty dining hall, knocking over a few chairs and vases on the tables like a bunch of rowdy unsupervised kids.

“I will not! You know how hard it was to heal diaper rashes with Evie?! I am not letting our top chef continue to have meltdowns because he wont change his wet– ass!” Carm manages to get a table between the two of them, Richie unable to reach across and grab him or round it without the kid moving to keep the same distance. He grits his teeth as they hold there in a tense standoff, waiting for the other’s move. In a dirty surprise maneuver Richie grabs the table’s vase and splashes Carm in the face with the water and flowers, distracting him long enough for him to round the table and tackle him to the ground. 

Carmen grunts and kicks around under him while Richie practically claws around to get a hold on any part of his clothes, aiming for his pants but it was difficult with Carm flailing around and shoving his hands away. 

“Cut it out–!”

“Stop it–!”

“Ack– not the face, you–”

“Dont you fuckin spit at–”

Richie finally manages to just roll Carm onto his stomach, yanking down the back of his jeans while he tries to crawl away. The diaper had definitely been used but they already knew that and it was no longer his focus. He needed to see the damage to his skin. 

He gets his pants low enough to see some of the rash he had guessed would be there peeking out onto his thighs, angry and bright pink. He swats away Carm’s hand that came back to stop him then moves off his legs to sit on his back, keeping him pinned down better so he could lift the back of the diaper just enough to check.

Carm grumbles out insults to make the devil’s chef blush and whines unhappily through the whole thing but Rich paid him no mind when he was looking at an absolutely heinous diaper rash. 

“Jeeeesus, cousin… you genuinely might need antibiotics.”

“Dont be ridiculous–”

“No im not fuckin with you. It looks awful. Doesn't it hurt?”

Carmen huffed a little and grumpily laid his head on his arms as he waited for this to be over so he could get some dignity back by pulling his jeans up. “.. a little.”

“Have you put anything on it?”

“Like what?”

“Rash cream moron!”

“No! It's not that bad! It'll go away!”

“Course you haven't. It doesn't look like you even have any powder or any barrier cream. Nothin to keep your skin from staying wet." He spoke like this was common knowledge for everyone and Carmen was stupid for not knowing any of this. But truth was Richie hadn't known about any of it either until he had been a dad. 

Richie stops peeking in the back of the diaper and stands off the kid, reaching down to help him stand up which he begrudgingly accepts but when he goes to pull his pants up, the man stops him. “No. Leave em. You're gettin a change now.”

“B– hu– wha– by you?!” Richie nods while giving him one of those stupid faces with a mocking ‘uh huh’ noises, “no! No way! I-I don’t even– I don't have those things you were talking about anyway!”

“Well I'm not leaving you to wet rot until you get home! And just being dry even without rash cream is better than doing nothing." He grabs his arm and begins to drag him back to the office space, having seen earlier today that Carm had left his backpack in there. He stumbles a bit with his pants still partially down his legs, annoyed that his pseudo family member hadn't let him pull them up and he was tugging him along too fast for him to get them up now.

He shoves Carm into the office and locks the door just in case the other decided to brave a run for it, risking another wrestling match that both of them were probably too old to still be doing. He looks around until he finds the bag and all but rips it open to find any supplies but there's just one diaper sadly crumpled down at the bottom like he had been trying to hide it. 

Richie pulls it out, dropping the bag to the floor as he looks at Carm with worse disbelief. “Seriously? That's all?” With a bit of shame and a whole lot of embarrassment, Carm shrugs and looks away, fidgeting with his nails again to keep him from looking at the other. Richie rolls his eyes and scoffs, having to leave the office just to go get paper towels to clean him with, griping at him when he passes by to “stay put.”

He thought about making a run for it, just going straight home to pretend like none of this ever happened, then come in tomorrow and never speak to Richie ever again. He reeeeeally thought about it. But… some part of him must be craving for another person to help him. Take a little off his plate and… just… care for him in the ways he didn't.

So when Richie came back he just quietly laid down on the floor like Richie ordered him too and stayed mostly still while he got to work methodically changing him like it was some everyday occurrence for him. He undid the tapes and opened it up taking a few moments to simply take in the rashed skin with a disapproving head shake that was fully derived from love and concern. 

He uncrumples the fresh diaper and helps Carm hold his butt up long enough to switch the two out so he was laying over the clean one for when Richie gets to work using damp paper towels to clean him off… which was the worst part for Carm. He squirmed a lot more and complained under his breath as he kept his gaze fixated on the ceiling tiles, not realizing until he wasn't the one in control of cleaning the sore areas just how much some of the spots hurt.

Surprisingly Richie didn't chastise him for it or even make fun of him. He was too focused on his work of making sure every part of his skin that had been touching the wet fabric was clean. Once he’s finally done… he then dries him off very carefully by dabbing at the skin with some try towels and taping the new diaper on. It seemed odd to Carmen how easy it was for him to do all of that. Sure he had the experience but that was with a much much smaller kid and… Carmen always found it really difficult to get it tapped closed in a comfortable way, usually giving up and just accepting it in any way as long as it kept him protected. Richie also… did it quickly. Very quickly. Even the cleaning was done in a shocking amount of time…

Richie wiped off his hands with one of the last clean damp paper towels then put all the trash inside the dirty diaper before rolling it closed to throw away. He gives the diaper a gentle dad’s ‘that's not going anywhere’ pat before helping Carm tug his jeans up. 

“You know you're not doing this alone anymore right?” Richie asks him after a beat of silence when he sits up, neither one of them fully meeting each other's eyes for the heartfelt moment. There was just something about it that their families couldn't seem to handle.