me seeing the ABUNDANCE of Leon fics/hcs after that trailer dropped
todays bird
Sade Olutola
Acquired Stardust
cherry valley forever
wallacepolsom

Product Placement

titsay

izzy's playlists!
Three Goblin Art
Misplaced Lens Cap

#extradirty
Cosmic Funnies

Janaina Medeiros
Stranger Things
I'd rather be in outer space đž

â
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
One Nice Bug Per Day
Not today Justin

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@levislegislation
me seeing the ABUNDANCE of Leon fics/hcs after that trailer dropped

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Kinda obsessed with Cowboy Leon
Leon Kennedy Headcannons <3 (just in general, not specific to any RE Leon)
Iâve been really getting into Resident Evil, so lemme know if you have any requests!
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Leon has your name embroidered on the tags of his shirtsâeven the compression shirts he wears on missions, just to have a small piece of you near him during his worst hours.
At night, he always checks every window and door lock at least twice; sometimes the poor boy will make you do it with him, just so later you can reassure him that theyâre all locked. The world is dangerous, and heâd be damned if he let anything hurt you.
None of his socks match. A single sock disappeared once in a wash cycle and now non of his socks are with their original pairsâremarried socks, as he calls them. Fortunately, his combat boots cover some of the more âunsightlyâ sock pairings.
Sometimes has crazy sour candy cravings. Heâll eat Warheads so sour that when he kisses you, your face puckers. Itâs a win if you like sour candy though.
If he gets the chance, heâs going to sleep on top of you. Normally, he sleeps on his belly, or all fuckass on his back, but if gets the chance, heâs absolutely going to lay on top of you at bedtime.
Leon would be into wearing matching pajama pants. Those Hello Kitty pajama pants youâve been eyeing at the store? Already bought and heâs definitely wearing them.
Would let you do your skincare routine on himâClaire is amazedâshe hasnât seen a single clogged pore on his skin for months; and lips are never chapped anymore. What a pampered man.
Some nights, when the memories and nightmares are too much, heâd tuck his face into the plush of your chest and quietly cry, snuggling close for comfort instead of waking you. Assuming you somehow didnât wake up from his soft sobs, youâd wake to find Leonâs tears on your shirt and make sure to hold your boy extra close for the rest of the day.
(I love Leon guys)
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
When u crave the next chapter of a fic so badly u continue the storyline on character ai
đ
đđšđ§đ đđšđ§đ đđąđŠđ
đđđ«đ đđ°đš
đđđąđ«đąđ§đ ê„ Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
đđźđŠđŠđđ«đČ ê„ It had been years since you ran away from Joel Miller, a hunter, frightened for your life and of who he had become. Before the infected roamed he was the grumpy single father of a chirpy little girl who lived across the street from you and kept himself to himself⊠until he didnât, not with you at least when you began watching over Sarah while he couldnât. He became someone who you could talk to, a friend dare you say, a silly little crush and your lifeline at the beginning of the apocalypse.
Now you are residing in Jackson, a slice of heaven in a cruel world, the perfect distraction from your past and the hell you went through to get away from it. However, you realise that the past really does always come back to haunt you when all too familiar faces arrive at Jackson and you have no other choice but to face Joel again, who makes it his mission to fix your broken friendship.
Unable to fight your heart, feelings resurface and lines blur when it becomes clear that you are just as much Joelâs lifeline as he is yours.
đš đđđđđđđđ đđđđđđ đđđđ đđđđđ, đđđđ đđđ đ đđđđđ đđđ đđđ!
đđđ«đąđđŹ đ°đđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ ê„ Horror themes, not following the second season/game so kinda au, reader can sing and play guitar, weapons, bad language, death, grief, angst, mentions of pregnancy and stillbirth, blood, mention of vomit, violence, nightmares, PTSD, a lil smidge of dark!Joel, Jackson!Joel, soft & protective with a bit of a dad bod!Joel, unrequited love until it isnât, jealousy, mutual pining, age gap (reader is 36 and Joel is 56) and smUUUUT (âŒïž) so you must be 18+ to readâïž
đđšđ«đ đđšđźđ§đ đđšđ« đđđ«đ đđ°đš ê„ 13.1K (Iâm sorry yâall, I got carried away with this one lolđ )
đđđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ đđšđ« đđđ«đ đđ°đš ê„ Grief, mention of death, parental neglect, bad language, angst, a Platonic (with a capital âPââŒïž) reader x Joel pre-apocalypse flashback, PTSD, nightmares, blood, violence and mentions of pregnancy.
đđšđšđ€ đđđđđ« đČđšđźđ«đŹđđ„đŻđđŹ đđ§đ đđ§đŁđšđČ, đŠđđČđđ đ„đąđŹđđđ§ đđš đđĄđ âđđšđ§đ đđšđ§đ đđąđŠđâ đ©đ„đđČđ„đąđŹđ đ°đĄđąđ„đ đČđšđź đ«đđđ! <đ
â đđđ«đ đđ§đ
THEN
đđđđđđ, đđđđ
'It's you... Moved into Sammy's old place across the street not that long ago, right?'
'Errr - yeah?'
'So you got a home - what're you doin' in mine?'
'Sarah invited me in.'
'She also give you the last cinnamon bun?'
'Maybe?'
''Course she did... That was mine.'
'Oh - um - âm sorry, Mr Miller - I didnât knââ
'Look - 's been a long day and this ain't a daycare so I think it's 'bout time you go home.'
That was it.
That was how you met Joel Miller.
The first day that you'd stepped foot into Joel and Sarah Miller's home, the first time that Joel had ever even acknowledged you, the first time you'd ever seen him up close rather than from across the street or your bedroom window, watching him make monotonous tasks like doing the lawn or hanging laundry look captivating... You figured that you'd just caught him at a bad time, but you didn't blame him for being irritated. He had caught you in the middle of taking a bite out of the last of the cinnamon buns that Sarah had made with the sweet Connie Adler... and you were watching Dawn of the Wolf: Part One, a horror movie that Sarah had snuck out of Joel's dvd collection.
You left just as he'd told you to, politely muttering a 'goodbye' as you did, but you were kinda annoyed that you never got to see what happened at the end of that movie, or find out what the twist was that all the movie buff's at school whispered about when it showed in the theatres at Halloween in 2001... you couldn't go at the time, so you cursed and kicked at the sidewalk whenever you saw the poster, slamming all of it's blockbusting epicness in your face.
It was Sarah's idea... really.
The whole thing.
You'd seen her before that day, just like you had Joel, across the street.
She'd wave at you, smile at you and you'd do the same while your fathers would just stare at each other, sizing the other up.
She'd knocked on your door on a lonely summer's day in 2002, your father was at work, so it didn't take much persuading on your part to run across the road with Sarah, her curly hair bouncing with each skip of your steps while she grabbed onto your hand, leading you to her home as if you didn't know where she lived, as if you hadn't seen each other through your bedroom windows and awkwardly waved before diverting your focus back onto your dreaded maths homework.
While sat on the comfy sandy-brown leather couch tucked into the bay window in the middle of the living room, holding that cinnamon bun, you and Sarah were asking each other questions. She seemed so excited just to be sitting with you, with someone who wasn't so familiar like her father or uncle, someone who wasn't a relative that she could relate to, who was closer to her age that she could befriend.
She was lonely, just as you had been.
The move was unexpected and quick... your dad had gotten a new job opportunity here in Austin, Texas - far from your home before. You knew that he would take the job without even considering that you would have to leave your friends, extended family, school and, most importantly, the house that your mom made a home - the house that she took her last breath in... you'd left them all behind, never to be spoken of again.
All for him... and he was never even around.
Settling into a new high school... it was your worst nightmare. Pushing your way through narrow hallways, cramped by other students who stood in their close knit friendship groups, unwilling to welcome the newbie into their arms.
And the neighborhood... it was neighborly, but it was also quiet most of the time. However, neighbors like Connie and Danny Adler, they were around all the time to look after Connie's elderly mother, Nana... you couldn't avoid them, they'd be sat outside eating even during the winter just to greet everyone who walked by.
That was how you first met Sarah... officially. You both happened to be walking back from school at the same time, the difference between you being that Sarah was beaming, radiant, and you were frowning, dulled after a day that merged into the last, just like the rest had since you'd moved. Connie and Danny were sat outside feeding Nana, who was confined to her wheelchair and unresponsive to everything around her. You would speed-walk past to avoid them, it wasn't that you didn't like them, they were a harmless little unit, it was just that you weren't in the mood to talk... you never were.
That day was just the same, except Connie had spotted you just as Sarah was walking towards them to drop by.
She did that a lot, an example of how selfless a girl Sarah Miller was.
Connie called you over with that sprightly high-pitched voice of hers, but it wasn't that that made you stop walking, it was the pleading look that Sarah sent you afterwards. That was what made you change your mind, then you and Sarah were ushered into the Adler home to spend the evening baking cookies, to make a friend - finally.
Your first friend in Austin.
Your mood elevated significantly after that day.
Granted, Sarah was a few years younger, but she was everything that you could ask for in a friend: good company with witty humor, but also so kind. Clearly she thought the same about you, her excitement being just as evident as yours because the day after she knocked on your door and dragged you to her home, telling you how 'bored out of her mind' she was and to come try her 'kickass cinnamon swirls'.
Her hazelly green eyes lit up at the coincidence of you having never seen the first part of Dawn of the Wolf, and her dad recently buying it at the local dvd store, after she'd asked you: 'if you could pick any movie to watch right now, what would it be?'
Joel thought that he had gotten rid of you after kicking you out of his house the first time.
He was mistaken.
You and Sarah became inseparable.
You both took comfort in being the same chess piece on a shitty old chessboard with several pieces missing.
Whether you were sprawled out laughing with Sarah on her bed, listening to cds with Sarah on her boombox, sat on the couch with Sarah watching horror movies, or sat on the kitchen counter eating pancakes you made with Sarah, Joel would always utter the same two words whenever he saw you as if he didn't expect you to be in his house. It was like a routine, or a habit of his that made the lack of visitors the Miller household would get so obvious before you moved directly across the road from it in the spring of 2002.
You'd hear the engine of Joelâs truck, the jingling of keys from outside, the door swinging open and a sweaty Joel, after a long day of work, would jump out of his skin at the sight of you and Sarah together before playing it off like it was nothing, and then...
'It's you.'
'Oh - it's you.'
'Oh shi- it's you again.'
And your personal favorite: 'Jesus fuckin' chri- it's you.'
You'd snicker into your hand, oh so discreetly hiding your amusement and failing every time because you weren't exactly trying hard enough, and Joel? Joel noticed everything, and even though he always seemed irked by you, he'd watch you cross the wide and desolate road from his porch to make sure you got back home safe - maybe it was an attentive father thing, you wouldn't know anything about it... your father wouldn't know if you'd gone missing even if the local sheriff shoved your missing poster in his face.
Your dad didn't know that you'd formed a close bond with Sarah, didn't notice that you'd been in the house opposite the street, didn't even notice that you'd left.
On the rare occasion that he was at home it was like he wasn't truly there with you. He treated you like a ghost, maybe because he pictured you as one, everyone back at your hometown would tell you how much you reminded them of your momma, but you'd never know if he did think that because he would never sit with you to talk about how much it hurt him just to look at you.
He kept his distance form you, threw himself into work, mumbling a 'later, darlin'' under his breath if you decided to bother knocking on the door of his study to tell him that you'd be at Sarah's or school.
It didn't hurt you anymore, not like it did when your mom's passing felt like a freshly opened wound to your heart.
Now you woke up every morning with a little smile on your face, hugging your favorite pillow to your chest, anticipating your day spent with Sarah and the reaction that Joel would have when he'd step through the front door only to find you with Sarah in his house for the umpteenth time.
Would he smile? Probably not.
Would he laugh? Definitely not.
Would he shake his head? Probably.
Would he tell you to go home? Definitely.
You tried not to take it too personally. If there was one thing you knew about Joel from the few times that you'd seen him out in the wild, it was that he hated everybody, or he acted like he did... not including Sarah, he loved her, you could tell by the way he drove her to school every morning, the way he'd adjust her backpack while it hung on her shoulders so that the straps wouldn't dig into her skin and leave those sore red marks that you'd get from lugging your own backpack after walking back home from what felt like a never-ending day at school.
Ignoring those same sore red lines from that same backpack, you found yourself stood in your usual place, bouncing on your feet in front of the glossy white door that separates you from the cozy interior of Joel and Sarah's home.
You'd started knocking seconds ago, your tongue peeking past your lips in full concentration as you hit a fun rhythm against the wood, entirely expecting Sarah's face to be the one you're greeted with... but it isn't.
It's his... Joel's grumpy face.
Your fist is still balled and held up mid-knock.
He's never here.
Not during the day anyway.
Only Joel would loom over you like a gatekeeper to his home... Sarah would've welcomed you in by now with a wide, toothy smile and outstretched arms.
He stares down at you silently for only five seconds after he'd opened his front door, but it feels so much longer than that, like an eternity compared to a brief moment. As usual he looks disappointed by your being invading his space, the one who dared to knock on his door and disturb his peace.
"It's you - again," he grumbles unenthusiastically while he holds the door half open with his palm, still looking down on you like you are an imposition to him and his time.
There they are.
Those two words.
But you don't feel the urge to giggle or hide a timid smile this time - maybe it's getting old... kinda like him - though you're quick to rule that thought out, choosing to place the blame at the hands of his harsh scrutiny towards you with those stern brown eyes of his.
He raises an eyebrow in question, like he doesn't know why you're stood on his porch, but then you realise that you'd not said a word to him in response like you typically did, you'd not even moved a muscle - still in a statue-like state caused by your confusion at his presence as if it was such a shock to you that he actually lives in the house that he works so hard to pay for.
Your arm abruptly falls back down to your side with a faint slap, feeling a slight ache in it after holding it up for too long. Say something - say something - say something - anything, stupidâ "err hi, Mr - um - Miller - is Sarah home?" You ask timidly, trying to ignore your stomach doing a series of backflips that make you feel all giddy inside.
He grunts, nodding his head before looking over his shoulder to call Sarah, who you presume is awaiting your arrival in her room. You lift your head fully, gazing up at him - he looks... clean. There's not a trace of grime on him like there normally is after he'd spent the day doing construction, his dark stubble doesn't have any wood chip stuck in it and his hair is not flattened from wearing a hard hat all day - he looks... kinda cuâ "Sarah!"
"What is it, daddy?!" You hear Sarah's voice coming from the living room, you also hear the television, it sounds like a movie just by the heavy orchestral music sequence in the background of muffled dialogue.
They are watching a movie - together.
Suddenly you feel like you're invading and you never felt like that here before.
Joel's head is still faced to the side and occasionally he side-eyes you, his lips downturned and the lines of his warm-toned skin are deep at the corners of his mouth, "that kid from across the street is here again - I thought we said no visitors today!"
Your palms feel clammy and those backflips your stomach was doing before? They no longer make you feel giddy - you feel agitated at the sole existence of the man standing before you, who is now casually leaning his side against the door as if he doesn't notice the way that your face is flushed red with embarrassment.
Pfft - 'That kid.'
Why'd he have to be so mean?
Whyâs he talking about you like youâre not stood right in front of him?
His sheer annoyance towards you is suddenly not as funny as you originally thought it to be... he must really hate you, even more than the other neighbors.
Why're you so butthurt about it?
"Look, kid - I ain't had a day off in a long time 'ndâ," he exhales, diverting his gaze back down to you, "between you 'nd me, I'd really like to have this one day with my daughter - you think you could allow me thâ"
"I have a name, asshole," you blurt before any of it processes in your head, skipping the part where your brain checks off the words and instead going straight to the part where you vocalize them.
Your heart does one particularly loud beat that you're sure even Joel hears.
Did you really just say that?
You're never gonna see Sarah again now.
After the initial shock of what youâd said washes over his features, you hear it for the first time, a low chuckle coming from Joel's mouth, albeit not at all genuine, it oozes sarcasm and his eyes are darker, colder than they were before you called him an 'asshole'. "You kiss your momma with that mouth?" His voice is smooth and smug, and there's a hint of light-heartedness in his eyes that is unfamiliar to you, angering you even more.
The fact that it was possible to make Joel laugh.
All of those dumb jokes that you'd pulled from your sleeve just to try and make him laugh, only for him to have no reaction at all.
No, it took calling him out on his assholery to get a cackle out of him, to see that prizewinning glimmer in his eyes... and your mom.
Why'd he have to make a joke about her?
You don't realise it until you feel them trickle from your tear ducts down to the corners of your mouth, but you're crying... you're crying in front of Joel Miller and to say that you're horrified is an understatement.
You hadn't cried like this since your mom... and Joel looks perplexed, like he has no idea what to do, but you can see through your blurred vision that his face looks softer, the lines around his eyes and forehead less obvious.
"What the - dad, not cool - her mom - she'sâ" Sarah appears behind Joel, aiming a disappointed look up at him.
Realisation spreads across his facial features, his posture stiffens and his arm drops to his side, "oh," his mouth opens further to apologize, or maybe to joke about you some more... you don't know because you run back home before you find out.
You don't look back to see if he is watching you, but you just know that he is, you can feel his gaze burning into your back as if it made any difference to your safety, as if it were strong enough that it'd stop any speeding cars from hitting you... truth was, you didn't care right now.
You were pretty sure you'd lost Sarah.
And without Sarah, you had no one.
ê„ đ ê„
You were supposed to visit Sarah yesterday.
She remembered how you'd not gotten around to finishing that Dawn of the Wolf movie and wanted to finally finish it with you... It was what you'd initially planned to do with her the other day, when Joel opened the door and... yeah, that didn't work out. Instead, you decided that rotting in your room, reading books and junk eating would be how you spent your summer holiday.
It's way better than being bullied by some grumpy grumbling dinosaur for a neighbor, you tell yourself.
But you miss Sarah - a whole damn lot.
You miss her infectious energy, how she'd lighten the mood so easily after a heart to heart about your moms.
You'd never tell Joel, though it's not like you could now anyway, avoiding him and all, how Sarah felt safe enough around you to open up about how her mom had left without so much as a note or phone call after the divorce, when she was only a baby. She told you how she had no memory whatsoever of her mom, what she looked like, not even a photograph... At least you had those memories to hold close to your heart, a moment of finality with your mom before she left you that Sarah never got to experience.
You're seated at your desk reading with your chin rested on the palm of your hand, the book in your other. Your eyes drift to the framed photograph of your mom that you rummaged out of an old photo album you saved from the trash on moving in day.
She's looking directly at the camera, appearing as though she's smiling at you, just as you liked to remembered her - beautiful and carefree... Usually you smiled back, but you didn't tonight, not only because you weren't in the mood to or because your book had some kind of gravitational pull that lured your attention back into its pages, but because you saw, in the corner of your eye, a light outside.
With your desk's placement in front of the only window in your room and the darkening sky outside you can focus entirely on it, quickly realising that it's coming from Joel and Sarah's front porch. It had responded to motion, you notice when you see two figures, one in front of the other, a smaller and larger one, the smaller one dragging the latter across the road.
The closer that the two figures get to your home, the clearer they become.
It's Joel and Sarah.
An audible gasp leaves your lips. It looks as if Sarah has talked him into this just by the way that his steps towards your house seem hesitant, but she ignores it, dragging him with her hand that barely wraps around his forearm. Her mouth is moving too, talking up at him like she is giving him strict orders.
As they disappear under the frame of your window and step onto your own front porch, a sight you never thought you'd see, you abruptly lift yourself and lean forward, your hips digging into the edge of your desk just to observe them until you lose sight due to the tiled roof of the porch beneath your window.
Your nose and lips are pressed flat against the glass when you hear a faint knock at the door, your heart thumps once after the sound echoes throughout the house.
Another knock.
Another thud of your heart.
A call and response.
The third knock is what causes you to jump away from your window, you draw your attention away from the condensation, the marks you'd left clear on the glass and glance down at the photo of your mom, silently begging her for some form of reassurance, advice, or for her to just magically tell you what to do.
She wouldn't want you to lose your friendship with Sarah.
She wouldn't want you to be alone.
She'd want you to open the door.
Sheâd tell you to go open the door.
A fourth knock sounds... You decide to go and answer after an internal battle between your brain and heart.
It isn't until you're approaching your front door that you notice the ache in your hips from digging them into your desk in a vigorous effort to study every movement from the father and daughter on the other side of it - you're sure it's going to leave bruises tomorrow.
After deeply inhaling and exhaling you reach for the door handle, twisting and opening it to peek your head through the gap between the door and it's frame, feigning curiosity, like you had no idea who to expect behind it.
"ân't you worry, honey - we'll try tomorrow," Joel tells Sarah. They've got their backs to you, about to give up on you, but they're still on the porch so you stop yourself from internally cursing at how much time you'd wasted to answer - it's not too late.
Sarah nods half-heartedly, her posture visibly deflated.
"Hey," you murmur before you can stop yourself, shut the door and wither away in your room at the hands of your cowardice.
Sarah's head turns first, then Joel's.
Sarah says your name, relief crossing over her features, not looking so defeated as she grabs onto her dad's arm again and pulls him to stand directly in front of you.
Joel does not look so pleased to be dragged around by a fourteen year old after he'd clearly just got back home from work. He was still in his construction clothes, donning his white hardhat, a padded navy jacket that has sawdust and stains all over it as well as tight-fitting blue jeans and boots that had seen better days.
You slowly open the door, it creaks as you reveal the innards of your home⊠The dim light from the bulb above you spotlights the emptiness, the lack of family photographs and decoration.
Joel is examining the space behind you, his eyes flicker around⊠He spots the differences between his home and yours, a loving home and an empty one. He wasn't the perfect father, he was exhausted by the time he got back home to Sarah, received constant work calls and had to run around after his brother, Tommy, all the damn time... but at least he made time for Sarah at the end of the day.
Suddenly it's so alarmingly obvious to Joel as to why he'd find you in his house most evenings.
Even what he had to offer for a home was better than the hand you'd been dealt.
Sarah tugs at his arm, "dad - dad," she whispers, grabbing his attention the second time she calls him.
He glances down at her, subtly nodding and muttering an 'I know I know - gimme a second' under his breath, acting as if you're not stood right there... He does that a lot. His hair peeks out messily from under his hat when he lifts his head to awkwardly make eye contact with you. "Kiâ" he stops before even starting, and just when you're considering slamming the door in his face, he calls you by your name.
Your jaw goes slack, "w-what - do you want?"
"âSâ" he scratches the side of his glistening neck and you gain some fulfilment from that - him being nervous for once. "Your dad home?"
"No," you state, shrugging your shoulders, "he's workin' late."
Joel nods, fighting the urge to roll his eyes - he'd heard that one before, many times from his own mouth - to Sarah, "'course he is." He bites his tongue, you can tell by the way his lips pout while Sarah silently urges him to speak, âSarah and I - we was wonderinâ if you wanted toââ he looks down at Sarah again like heâd forgotten the words on a script and needed some guidance going through it, âwe thought itâd be nice if you joined us - for dinner - ânâ watch that movie you likeââ
âDawn of the Wolf?â You blink profusely, hopeful.ïżŒ
âYeah - Dawn of the Wolf.â
You divert your eyes to Sarah, who is nodding eagerly with each word that comes out of her fatherâs mouth.
When heâs done talking she looks at you, begging you with those wide eyes that you could never say no to, and her grip on Joelâs arm even tighter, stopping his blood from flowing where her fingertips are pressing into his skin. âPleaseee pleaseee pleaseee join us!â Sarah adds.
You canât leave her in suspense for a second longer.ïżŒ
âSure - Iâll um - join you,â you answer, breaking out into a grin at the same time Sarah does, who drops her dadâs arm and steps forward, pulling you into a hug. She squeezes you so forcefully into her arms, so carried away by her excitement that you can hardly breathe between giggling, âitâs - only been - two days.â
âI donât care - I missed you,â she confesses to you without a care in the world now that she had her friend back.
Another choked giggle escapes you as you wrap your arms around her, âI - missed you too.â
Joel is stood still watching you and Sarah hug each other⊠You swear that you see a hint of a smile plastered across his lips at the sight, âcâmon you two, dinnerâll be gettinâ cold.â
âOkay, daddy,â Sarah mumbles while you nod against her shoulder⊠Then she gives Joel a thankful glance after letting go of you.ïżŒ
You shut yourself outside with them and Sarah holds onto your hand just as she did the first time she invited you into her home, pulling you away from your porch and towards the road.
Joel follows close behind so youâre sandwiched between both members of the Miller family. He strides with his serious eyes glued to you, Sarah and the road, but youâre sure that heâs feeling some kind of relief underneath the tough exterior at the fact that heâs not the one being pulled around by his daughter anymore.
He says your name again, clearer this time, and just as youâre about to cross the dimly lit street, youâre stopped by his hand on your shoulder, a light touch, but you feel the roughness of his palm and fingers all the same.
His eyes can look so kind when he means for them to be.
âSarahââ he nods in the direction of his little girl, who has let go of your hand and broken into a sprint towards her front door in so much of a frenzy of excitement that she has momentarily forgotten about yours and Joelâs existence, âshe told me about your mom.â Joel squeezes your shoulder, not enough for it to hurt, but enough for you to know that he means his words, and is trying to make up for his awkward delivery of them, âif Iâd have known I wouldnât have said what I said.â
You hum, nervously achknowledging his odd way of apologizing.
For a split second he looks down at his old boots, the soles of them falling apart, shaking his head and muttering to himself at the same time. Then he clears his throat and meets your gaze, âIâm sorry - really, I am.â
Two words you never expected to hear from Joel Miller.
NOW
đđđđđđ, đđđđ
'It's you - 's really you.'
Joel, just a few metres away from you, stares at your barely conscious body that had fallen into the stacks of hay bales behind you, knocking them all to the ground and ruining the neat orderly way that you'd first organised them a few days ago. Luckily the back of your head hadn't made any contact with the concrete or wooden shelving, narrowly missing them all on your way down. The thudding sound and force of your body hitting the stacks had sent hay flying and falling much slower than you did around and on top of you, covering you like an itchy fleece blanket.
They all rush to your side, Rick, Maria, Tommy, Jean and a teenage girl you didn't even know... Not Joel, he stays exactly where he is, static and bewildered, just as you had been minutes ago when you first turned and saw him.
He places his hand over his heart, rubbing up and down when he feels the beat of it becoming uncontrollably fast, causing his lips to tremble and let out fast and shaky breaths... it's the sight of you laying there, unable to move because of him, but he cannot bring himself to drag his eyes away for his own good.
He's so sure that you'll vanish if he does, that he'll look away and none of this will have been real, that Tommy isn't here and Jackson is just a figment of his imagination.
The man who owned Jackson Ranch, Rick, Joel had found out, scooped you into his arms effortlessly. Joel was introduced to the younger man by Tommy and Maria, who were being very obvious about their uneasiness as soon as they led him and Ellie towards the ranch during a very tense tour of Jackson... It was crystal clear to Joel that something was going on that he didn't know about by the way that Maria whispered in Tommy's ear the closer they got to the stable.
Joel caught a few snippets by turning his head to the right so that his good ear faced the direction of their private discussion...
'You don't know her like I do, Tommy.'
'What're you talkin' about? 'Course I do.'
'No, you don't - not anymore... I'm telling you, she is not ready for this.'
'She's gonna find out sooner or later - might as well be sooner, don't you think?'
Perhaps some part of Maria agreed with her husband, she stayed silent after that.
Joel still had no idea what the fuck they were talking about and if there was one thing that pissed him off, it was being left in the dark, especially after travelling all this way, convinced that his little brother was in serious trouble and needed rescuing, or dead and needed burying.
He got so impatient that he was even considering killing Tommy himself there and then, right in the middle of the stable in front of all the horses, Ellie, everybody... but he decided against it, wanting to uncover whatever mystery Tommy and Maria were trying to hide from him.
'You gonna tell me?' He interrupted them just as they stepped out onto the snowed over grazing grounds for the horses, ignoring the confused looks he received from Rick, Jean and Ellie.
'Tell you what?' Both Maria and Tommy blurted at the same time.
'Whatever the fuck it is you're tryin' to hide.'
Maria sent a look towards her husband.
'Brother, you might wanna take a few breaths before I tellââ
'Tell me before I do somethin' I regret.'
'It'sâ'
That's when Joel saw you walking out of a barn and towards the shelter full of hay.
He'd recognise you anywhere, even after how long it'd been since he saw you last.
Sixteen goddamn years.
The thought ran through his mind, that heâd finally succumbed to his old age and was losing it... Exhausted after travelling across the country.
But then it all made sense... you were the reason why Tommy and Maria had been acting so shifty about leading him here.
You worked here.
You lived here.
He managed to croak out your name in the midst of his shock before he shoved himself through Tommy and Maria and headed in your direction, calling out for you louder.
Tommy and Maria quickly caught up with him, telling him to 'slow down', to 'think about this' while the others followed close behind, but he ignored them all, focused entirely on you holding a hay bale in your arms.
It was you.
It was really you.
You're really here... Here in Jackson.
Seeing you cradled in Rick's arms, your face in the crook of his neck, your tears staining his skin and your knees bent over his arm, Joel realises just how real you are. You are a real, living and breathing person made up of organs, limbs and skin that he once knew and not some story-book character from a chapter he'd read a long time ago.
"Can I - do somethin'?" Joel finds himself asking Rick while staring at your mostly motionless form.
Rick had also been staring down at you, tracing his fingertips over the creases at the bend of your knee to soothe your distressed mumbling and restless stirring... That is until he hears Joel's voice, the helplessness of his tone not going unnoticed, but Rick is too angry to care about it.
Dealing with another Miller arriving in Jackson is not his current priority... you are.
"I think you've done enough for now, don't you?" Rick spits with a glare directed at Joel that doesn't waver until after he passes the older man and sets his eyes on the metal gates leading onto one of the many streets in Jackson. Your street, your house, it is only a small distance from the stable and Rick is determined to get you there, "let's get you home," he mumbles, the stubble on his chin tickling your forehead.
Joel watches Rick's every move until the two of you disappear, too small for him to see, even if he squints.
Maria pulls Ellie aside and Tommy brings a hand to Joel's shoulder, shaking it a little to divert Joel's attention onto him. Joel's eyes, full of unanswered confusion, flicker erratically across Tommy's familiar facial features, grasping desperately for anything recognisable in order to try and make sense of a situation he never pictured happening - seeing you again.
Tommy's moustache, though it's darker than Joel's graying facial hair, it mirrors his own. The same eyes and hair, although again, Joel's show signs of his aging with the odd gray hair and sunken eyes that have seen way too much. After studying Tommy's similar freckles dotted along his smoother, paler skin... Joel found that he still couldn't make sense of any of it, which alarms him to a disturbingly high degree.
On the rare occasion that Joel had no idea what to do, Tommy would be there - his little brother was surprisingly good at that, given the amount of times Joel had to take charge and save his ass when it came to money or business.
When Sarah died in Joel's arms, you were there, Tommy was there too. His little brother knew that there was nothing that could be done to save his precious niece... She was gone.
Joel was hysterical, in no place to make any rational decisions, and neither were you after watching your best friend take her last breath... it only got worse when the realisation dawned on the three of you that there was no time or way of burying her, the infected were everywhere, soldiers were everywhere.
It was chaos.
Tommy took matters into his own hands. He led you both to safety that night, over a bridge and eventually to a triage clinic.
Right now Joel only sees doubt in Tommy's eyes, even his little brother doesnât know what to do, "Tommy - Iâ" his voice cracks.
Tommy gives Joel his best attempt at a reassuring smile, "C'mon - we'll talk over a drink."
For the first time in a long time, Joel feels useless.
A drink could help take the edge off a little.
ê„ đ ê„
You can hear distant, panicked voices surrounding you, but you can't see, nothing but darkness anyway.
It's a safe place... away from Joel.
He may have somehow managed to find you in Jackson, but he could never find you here in this state between consciousness and unconsciousness.
You focus on the gentle rocking of your body, calming words spoken into your ear, and even though you have no clue what is being said it lulls you into a peaceful rest until you're still, no longer being cradled or lullabied, you're laying on your mattress alone.
In an instant you don't as safe as you did before.
The blackness that envelopes you turns red.
Blood.
You're drowning in it again.
There hadn't been any time to take a long breath, youâre engulfed by it immediately this time and your legs kick violently, swimming your way up towards the surface before whatever it was that grabbed you last time could wrap itself around your ankles and drag you down further.
It had to be Joel, a monstrous, inhuman devil incarnate of him that is trying to kill you in various ways.
Part of you questions why you can't hear his voice.
Or see him.
Heâs always here.
Maybe he's waiting for you to reach the surface of this pool of death that knows no limit.
The crimson redness of your vision becomes lighter as you near your survival, throwing your arms out as widely as you can just for one breath of fresh air⊠that's all that matters, not the likelihood of him being there at the finish line - you're that desperate as you feel yourself choking through gurgling, metallic-tasting screams.
Mid-scream, your face comes into contact with the surface and you squint, seeing the silhouette of a broad-shouldered being above you. Joel had been waiting for you here rather than below, teased you into believing that you could escape, given you hope only for it to backfire.
You decide in a split second that lashing out on him is your last possible resort to escape, so you reach above your head as you take prolonged, exaggerated breaths.
"Woah - hey - hey, it's me!" A voice unfamiliar to your nightmares calls to you.
It's Rick.
Your eyes fly open, panicked, and youâre breathing rapidly through your mouth. You've got the collar of Rick's off-white shirt balled into your fists, frozen when you realise that none of it had been real. Youâre laying in bed, your bedding soaked with sweat again.
Rick's face is close and his large hands are wrapped around your wrists, urging you with small tugs to loosen your tight grip on his shirt, "it's me," he repeats calmly.
"R-Rick?" You murmur as if you're unsure, but you can see that it's him and not Joel, or Tommy even, because your side lamp is on, the light of it hitting the left side of his face.
"Yeah," he murmurs as quietly as you had questioned him, "you were havin' a nightmare."
You feel your cheeks flush when you notice your thumbs coming into contact with Rick's jugular, still in attack mode, "sorry - I - I thought you wereâ" Joel - you stop yourself, but Rick isn't stupid, he knows exactly who you mistook him to be, "someone else."
"Hm," Rick leans forward on the wooden chair beside your bed and brings his hands together to rest on the edge of your mattress.
He looks worn out by the events of the day... It's dark out now, he must've been sat with you since you'd passed out at the shelter.
Oh shit.
Pearl.
Shimmer.
The thought of them starving makes you jolt your upper half up and tear your duvet off of you, "Shimmer - Pearl, they need feedin' - I - theyâ"
"They've been fed - don't you worry about that," he coaxes you back down without laying a hand on you, but you notice that you're no longer wearing your work jacket or boots, he must've taken them off while you were asleep.
"What? How? Pearl would never let you do that."
Rick nods, "Jean's been coverin' for me while I've been here 'n' - y'know Jean is Pearl's second favorite, you bein' her first of course," he talks to you as if you hadn't been on the verge of killing him minutes ago which calms your nerves, but it doesn't stop you from feeling guilty about it.
You nod, frowning. The red marks that you'd left on his neck are starting to bruise, "I'm so sorry, Rick."
"For what?"
"These," you mutter, timidly reaching out to point out the red patches, your index finger accidentally colliding with the one of them, "shiâ"
"'S okay... Didn't get me quite so bad this time," he smiles, a glint of cheekiness in his eyes.ïżŒ
The fact that he's joking with you instantly relaxes you, but your back rests against your bed's headboard only for you to jolt forward again a second later, "but - the whole ranch - all your workers - they must be wonderiâ"
"Maria got some extra hands in. Everything is covered so stop your fussin', you'll give yourself another concussion."
You huff, reluctantly sinking back against the headboard again, nodding. "Where's Maria now?"
Rick blinks up at you, "at the Tipsy Bison - probably helpin' Seth with clearin' up."
Shit.
You whip your head in the direction of the digital clock stood on the middle of your side-table by your lamp and that same framed photo of your mom you had on your desk in Austin twenty years ago.
21:57.
Triple shit.
The movie.
The 'date' - with Rick.
"Oh Rick - the movie," you sigh, wanting to just deflate back into your bed and cocoon yourself in your duvet.
Rick chuckles, "didn't want to see it anyway." His face flushes pink, making the forming bruises even more red than they were before, "I er - was only goin' for you, thought that much was obvious."
You smile shyly at his confession, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes and Rick sees it.
You wanted to see the movie.
You wanted to go on that 'date' with Rick.
You wanted to make amends with Maria... Tommy too.
Rick, careful not to startle you, slides his right hand across your sheets towards your own one that is laying palm-side up and slack beside your thigh. He watches as his warm fingertips brush over yours before searching your eyes, which instantly widen at his touch and meet his, "there's always tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
He nods, his already messy slicked back hairstyle from running his fingers through it all day to ease his stress falls in front of his ears, the curls at the tip of each strand framing his ocean eyes. "If you're feelin' any better, yeah, tomorrow - after work. We'll meet at the Tipsy," he slides his hand further over yours, testing the waters, "how about it?"
"Sure."
"Alright then - it's a date."
He covers your hand completely with his own and finally, you respond, turning your hand underneath his so that they're in the form of an 'x' and curling your fingers over his knuckles.
In the moment you don't feel so bad about passing out in front of several pairs of eyes because it got you here - yes, with an uncomfortable headache and a sore back, but also an actual date with Rick.
A firm knock at your front door bellows throughout your house, so loud that you feel the vibration of it in your bones too.
Rick lets out a small groan of annoyance while you jump out of your skin, your hand shaking underneath his. He diverts his attention back to you from the open doorway leading to the landing and staircase. "Must be that asshole again," he grumbles under his breath, shaking his head, disappointed at your moment being ruined by whoever it is.
Your eyebrows furrow... what asshole could he mean? "Tommy?"
It's not Tommy, you know it. He wouldn't show up at your house out of the blue like this, Maria wouldn't let him and he'd have listened to her.
No, you know who it is, you can see it in Rick's eyes too, the answer - you just don't want to admit it.
"No - the other oneâ" he breaks eye contact, dropping his gaze back down to your hand, which is holding his like a vice, "Joel."
If your head didn't hurt before, it certainly hurts now.
Your breath hitches, "Jâ"
"He's been out there knockin' all day."
"Did you - answer?"
"I did.â Rick bites his lips together.
"Heee - say anythin' to you?" You ask without thinking, curious, your heart hammering inside your chest harder than Joel is knocking.
"Not much... just that you're - old friends." 'Old friends' - that's one way of putting it - Rick notices the way that you tense up at Joel's exact words, "he - er - wanted to see youâ" you subconsciously shake your head, "yeah, I figured as much so I told 'im to leave - this is theâ" Rick counts, looking down at his fingers while he does, "sixth time he's come back."
You find that hard to believe at first, surely Maria would've warned him off, Tommy too... Then you remember that Joel was never one for rules that weren't his own.
He won't leave.
Not until he sees you.
What does he want from you?
To sit and reminisce on the old days with an 'old friend'?
Like theyâre something fond to look back on - like they hold a dear place in your hearts - like you hadn't tried to forget them all with every ounce of your being for the last sixteen years - like you could forget what he did to all those innocent people... to you.
What more could he want from you than all of the time he'd already taken? Another minute - another hour - another day? Week? Year?
Your hand abruptly slips away from Rick's at the same time another knock is planted against your front door.
You look to the photo of your mom beside you.
Although the glass in front of it is cracked and the frame holding it is chipped from travelling with you from place to place since the beginning of the outbreak, the radiance of her smile hasnât faded after everything and you still pleaded for advice from her from time to timeâŠ
Sheâd tell you to go open the door.
"Everythin's fineâ" Rick nods before rising from the chair, "I'll just - send him on his way - again... and bring you up a glass of water," he mutters unconvincingly, knowing that it's not going to work - you know that it's not going to work.
Your hand reaches out to grab Rick's wrist, immediately he stops in his tracks to assist you with anything you need. He's prepared, tired as he is, to sit beside you all night until Joel eventually gets too tired to play this 'cat and mouse' game with you... but little to Rick's knowledge, you've already admitted defeat. You shake your head, "noâ" your throat bobs up and down, "I'll do it."
Rick opens his mouth to argue, but nothing he can say will change your mind - or at least you don't want him to try to, otherwise you fear that Joel will be waiting for you outside forever.
"It's got to be me."
He nods once before stepping aside so that you have the space to lift yourself onto your feet, then he follows, keeping a hand in line with your back in case you lose balance. You're grateful for his help because your legs feel like jelly, wobbling with each step you take. Whether it's because of the fall earlier or Joel Miller at your door, you're not sure - probably both. You're also grateful for his support in your decision to answer the door yourself, you're not so sure you would if you had been on your own. You could imagine yourself laying in bed, Joel knocking like he is now, and doing nothing but hold your pillow over your ears.
The silence between you and Rick on the way to your front door would be deafening if all your thoughts running around in circles came to a halt and your heart's unusually fast pounding came to a stop.
You have a home, a life and work that Joel cannot interfere with anymore.
You're at the bottom of the staircase.
You have work in the morning and he can't be there when you leave so you might as well get rid of him now.
You're standing directly at the front door.
You might think this is stupid now, but you'll be thanking yourself tomorrow, when you're drinking with Rick and completely Joel-less.
You're gripping onto the door handle like it's a life or death decision, whether you choose to twist it or not.
This is the good kind of defeat that'll finally allow you to move on with your life, to say a final goodbye to Joâ
You open the door.
The door that acted as a wall between you is knocked down and you're exposed to the brown eyes that had the ability to turn you into a puddle of mush all those years ago. You're terrified that if you look into them again you'll find out that they still have that same effect, but you force yourself to anyway, convinced that this'll be the last time youâll ever have to face him.
Joel's mouth is ajar - he'd expected for it to be Rick answering again just to tell him to leave.
He's still wearing the same clothes that he was wearing when you first saw him, but your vision is much less blurry than it had been before. He looks cold, his lips almost the shade of the purple grapes that grew in several batches outside the greenhouses during the summer this year. You watch them closely as he mouths what looks like 'it's you', but his lips must be so numb from waiting out here for you that they aren't moving the way he wants them to.
Your breath hitches when you sheepishly meet each other's eyes, neither of you blink, you just stare until you physically can't anymore - when your eyes start stinging, begging you to just close them for one millisecond, but even that's too long.
"Can I - come in?" He manages to ask, hugging his arms around himself, squeezing, but you're too busy examining everything that you'd missed earlier, everything that had changed since you last saw him: he has more salt than pepper hair on his cheeks and above his top lip, a scar under his eye, new wrinkles engraved into his skin and the scar on his right temple is much more faded than you remember it to be... he looks disheveled, but that isnât new, Joel looked scruffy most of the time before, but now he looks even more like time had passed him by without even realising it, without him doing a single thing for his own healthâ the man himself interrupts by saying your name, "please."
His voice and your name had been a brutal combination from the moment that he first said it when he knocked on the door of your home back in Austin, so you're not surprised at your brain spiralling, trying desperately to process it without malfunctioning.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Rick chimes in, making his presence known to Joel, making it clear that while he had been out here freezing his ass off, Rick had been with you in your home.
It pisses Joel off, that Rick had had all this time with you alone, and as soon as he gets the opportunity to have some with you, he is being interrupted by some uppity stranger he'd not met twelve hours ago that clings onto you like fungus clings onto infected. "Do you mind backin' off a little, buddy?"
"Actually I dâ" Rick goes to step in front of you, but you stop him by placing your hand flat on his chest.
"Rick," you scold him in a whisper, instantly grabbing the attention of both men.
Joel's eyes are wide while yours are peeking up at him, "what're you thinkin'?"
"I think she wants you to leave," Rick blurts, unwilling to back away like Joel had told him to.
"That might be what you're thinkin', not what she isâ"
If looks could kill, Rick would be slaughtered by Joel and dead on the floor - your heart thuds at the possible outcome of this conversation if Rick didn't shut the hell up. "Rick!" You push at his chest with the hand that is still resting on it, "I've got this."
"Youâre sure?" He asks, giving Joel the stink eye.
"Mhm, go fetch me that glass of water."
Rick nods, his eyes suspiciously flickering between you and Joel before he leaves the two of you alone... You didn't want this either, to be alone with the man who haunted your mind night and day, but if you wanted to end this once and for all, Rick couldn't be here gritting his teeth at Joel every five seconds.
"Now that your puppy dog is outta the wayâ" Joel keeps rubbing at his sides, âis it what you want?" His eyes, focused, trying to spot any trace of doubt in yours, "f'me to leave?"
Yes... no - god, you don't know anymore. The fact that he's giving you the choice disturbs you, like it's a trick question.
What'll he do if you say no?
Or if you say yes?
Why couldn't he just force his way into your home and be done with it?
You nod your head unconsciously - yes, you want him to leave, but you can't let him leave, not yet. You exhale, not believing that you're about to let source of your nightmares into the safety of your home, "no."
His thick coat, the colour of damp sand, brushes past the arm of your t-shirt, the same one that you put on for work this morning, it's just as discoloured as his from hanging around horses all day every day⊠You hadn't felt self-conscious about your appearance until now, stood directly under the main light of your living room.
Joel looks uncomfortable too under the bright light, knowing how much he had changed in the last sixteen years - how much older he must look to you now.
Just say it... tell him that you never want to see him again.
"J-Joel - I - I neverâ"
"This where you been all this time?"
There it is... the reason why you had left him and Tess without a word. He wouldn't have let you go without interrogating you, without trying to talk you out of it, knowing that you would've listened - and probably stayed in the same miserable situation, stuck in the Boston QZ, pregnant, living with a man who you feared that you didn't know anymore, who you loved, who was willing to sacrifice you and your unborn baby for supplies... and with his partner, who you had to listen to him fuck every night for two years.
A part of you doesn't want him to know what you went through to get here, what you sacrificed, what life had been like since then... that it hadn't been what you hoped for it to be. You donât want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that there was some regret on your part for jumping ship.
You wouldn't have lost your baby.
Charlie would still be breathing.
No, he canât know the prices you had to pay.
"No," you nibble on your bottom lip.
"That's itâ" he breathlessly chuckles, but he's not happy, far from it, "that's all you got for me?"
"It's the truth." The very vague truth.
"No it ain't."
"Yes itâ" you're prepared for a back and forth of 'no it ain'ts' and yes it is-es', but Rick interrupts, bringing in your glass of water, which you snatch and chug down in a matter of seconds before slamming the empty glass onto the coffee table between you and Joel. The glass doesn't break, but the ring underneath wobbles on the table's surface due to the trembling of your hands, "is," you finish before muttering a 'thank you' in Rick's direction.
"No problem. I'll just be - in the kitchen," Rick sighs out, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, "call me if you need anythin'."
You nod, watching Joel closely as he murderously watches Rick leave the room.
The sound of glass circling over wood fades into silence.
Joel's eyes are back on you in a flash, "where were you before you got here?"
You shrug your shoulders, "I - I don't remember - we moved around a lot."
"We?"
"Mhm."
"Who's we?"
"Maria's group."
Joel's lips tighten into a thin line, mustering up more questions in his head. In a swift few movements he pinches his gloves off of his hands, flinging the garments onto the two-seater couch to his left and bringing a hand up to his forehead, rubbing his fingers over the creases on his skin, "'Maria - she find you out there?"
You gulp, blinking at him, "a - handful of her people took me to her."
"When?" He peeks at you through his fingers.
Your bottom lip quivers - why'd he have to do this? Why'd he have to remind you of the worst day of your life? "W-winter," your eyes gloss over, but you refuse to let any tears fall, sucking them back behind your eyes only for them to block your nose and make you sniffle, "sixteen years ago."
Joel's fingers trail over his nose, pinching the bridge of it with his index finger and thumb - his eyes are closed, "where?"
"A small town in Colorado - Silverton."
"Colorado," he repeats under his breath, letting his hand fall away from his face so that he can really see your raw reaction to his next question, "was Charlie with you?" Your jaw falls, immediately about to answer his question, that yes, your friend was with you, and you wouldn't have made it to Colorado alive without her... but Joel stops you before you can spill the truth in a frantic moment of weakness, "'cause there ain't no way you got to Colorado from Boston on your own."
You inhale a shaky breath, holding it in to distract you from his intimidation, "Charlie w-wasn't with me."
Joel shakes his head, looking down at the varnished floorboards under his boots, "so you're sayin' 's just a coincidence that she vanished into thin air the same night you did?"
"Yes," you lie as well as you possibly can, it's easier when he isn't staring at you. "I got to Colorado from Boston all on my own - in a car."
âA car?â
âThose metal things with four wheelsââ
âDonât do that - you know what I mean.â
âFine, I found one with some gas on the freeway.â
Lie - lie - lie.
Silence takes over the room again as Joel processes all of the answers you had given him to questions that ran through his head more than heâd like to admit, they fill a crater on his brain that'd been left there since the morning he saw yours and Charlie's sleeping bags unzipped and empty - with no trail to follow, nothing... you'd gone, for good - or so he thought.
You're restlessly tapping your foot on the floor when Joel lifts his head again, anticipating the last question of his interrogation, one that you will have to answer with nothing but the truth, instead, he examines the room. All the furniture came with the house that Maria assigned to you, there were a few odd bits and pieces that you'd gotten from trades: books, cds, a boombox, a rug, flowers... it's not much, but it's yours.
"And the baby?" He'd been searching for any sign of him, photos on the walls of your son, drawings, toys... any indication that a teenage version of you was living here too. His search stops when he realises that there's nothing and he looks to you again, genuinely afraid of your answer, but his eyebrows raise, silently urging you to just say it - he'd avoided asking long enough already.
You knew it is was coming, but when the question actually leaves his lips you cannot stop the singular tear that falls from your eye. The liquid mixes with the blood pooling around your bottom row of teeth on the inside of your bottom lip from biting it so hard - the taste of your emotional and physical pain on your tongue at the same time.
"H-he - he didnât make it."
'He', Joel mouths and bows his neck with a shaky sigh, taking a moment of silence for the baby boy that had kicked his large hand from under your skin, the baby boy he never got to meet, but had spent so much time with through your pregnancy. "H-heâ" Joel's voice cracks, alerting your ears, you've never heard him do that. He places his hand over his heart, "how - when did heâ"
You shake your head, warning him to just stop with the questions.
"I need to know - please." He looks so lost, his eyes round and glossy... You knew that pain all too well and you couldn't bring yourself to believe that he was really feeling it too.
"No - you don't," you state, your voice weak but as cold as ice, another tear rolling down your face. "What happened to my son has nothing to do with you."
"It sure as hell does!" He steps around the coffee table closer to you as he raises his voice, only for you to flinch and take a step back, desperately trying to keep the space between you before you melt into his arms like you always craved to before.
It did - it had everything to do with Joel.
After all, âMillerâ was your sonâs last name, and you were constantly reminded of it whenever you visited his grave to replace his flowers.
"My life - my boy's life, it stopped having anything to do with you when you used us as bait for some fuckin' medicine and ammo," your harsh, but true words slip out of your lips and after, you could hear a pin drop it's so quiet.
Joel looks ashamed, guilty. His lips are downturned and the tiniest of tears falls from his own eyes... he no longer looks like the monster you imagined him to be in your nightmares, he is a pale imitation of himself. "I'm sorry,â he says gently, so unlike the venomous voice he used to threaten victims as a hunter, but he knows that this is an apology that could never make what he did right.
You take a slow breath, preparing to say what you'd let him into your home to say, "if - you - really mean it⊠leave. I never want to see you again."
You did it - you finally did it.
He's fighting himself, you can tell, his lips are doing that thing where they twitch as his nose scrunches up... It's not in his nature to do what he is told when he wants to do the opposite, but he also knows that the best and only option for him now is to leave... to do what Ellie wants him to do, to take her to the Fireflies and leave Jackson.
"You heard her," Rick announces from behind you again, he mustâve been alerted by the raising of voices and for a moment you wonder how much heâd heard.
Joel ignores Rick this time, nodding at you and sniffling back his tears before swiftly leaving the room, making sure to collide his shoulder with Rick's on the way out of your house.
The door slams, signalling Joel's exit.
Rick nods at you as a further confirmation.
You exhale out a long breath that you didn't even know you'd been holding in and collapse onto the couch beside you with your eyes closed, your hands landing on a rubbery texture that is definitely not your couch.
Itâs Joelâs gloves.
Quadruple shit.
ê„ đ ê„
You wish that you could say you felt any better this morning, but that'd be a lie.
You'd been telling a lot of lies recently and you didn't want to get in the habit of doing it... but they had been your only protection from facing your past - facing Joel.
Old Beardy snorts next to your ear while you scratch under his chin, reminding you that he is also your protector, heâd never let anything bad happen to you. You lean your forehead against his, it calms the ache at the back of your head, which isnât as in pain as you thought itâd be, and it also calms your shot nerves, giving you a moment to properly catch up on the rest that you didnât get last night.
Rick left soon after Joel did, he told you to âget some restâ and that heâd sign you off of work for the day⊠As for the date at the Tipsy Bison tonight, thatâs still on. You decided that youâd come to work anyway because you know that youâre better off in the stables with the horses than anywhere else, let alone your bed⊠you had nightmares in that bed every goddamn night for the last seven years so what wouldâve made today any different?
The stable door behind you opens and slams shut, immediately alerting you because either itâs Rick coming in to update the board of patrol shifts for today, or itâs a patroller who has come in wayyy too early for their shift.
You peek one eye open and look to your right, realising that itâs neither Rick or an overly eager early bird.
Itâs Joel.
He strides with purpose into the stable in the same clothes he was wearing last night, looking like heâd had about as much sleep as you did judging by the dark bags underneath his bloodshot eyes.
Old Beardy snorts again, urging you to keep showering him with the love that he gets from you all the time while your temple is rested above his nose as Joel fiddles around with the horse tack located at the corner of the stable next to the patrol board⊠clearly heâd not spotted you, too engrossed in whatever heâs doing here this early in the morning.
You and Old Beardy observe the man from afar as he picks up a bridle, saddle and an attachable bag, carrying them over to Callusâ stall - the stallion seems familiar with him, not fussing when Joel starts to pet, then dress him.
Is he doing what you think heâs doing?
Leaving - just as you told him to?
And on Callus?
âIâll be right back, boy - I promise,â you whisper to Old Beardy, looking him in the eyes as you say it so he knows that youâre telling the truth before you intend to discreetly sneak out of the stable and report Joelâs attempted horse theft to Rick, wherever he is.
But Old Beardy, stubborn and talkative as he is, grumpily neighs so loudly that the sawdust from the old wood of the stable falls due to the vibration that the noise sends through each and every slat.
Thatâs your plan ruined.
Old Beardy has probably woken up the entire population of Jackson and youâre aware that your cover is well and truly blown⊠Joel is already staring at a frozen, crouched and wide-eyed you in the midst of placing the saddle heâd taken onto Callusâ back. ïżŒ
This is awkward, given the last thing youâd said to him was âI never want to see you againâ. You hadnât planned on seeing him, let alone speaking to him this morning⊠or ever again.
You stand up straight, resorting back to your normal posture stood in front of Old Beardyâs stall, giving the horse beside you a dead pan look that doesnât last a second because you can never stay mad at any of your beloved four-legged friends.
âI see you havenât got your barkinâ boyfriend on a leash this morninâ,â Joel grumbles, turning his attention back to attaching the saddle to the obedient Callus.
âI believe the âbâ word youâre lookinâ for is bossââ you grumble right back, bravely taking a few steps towards Callusâ stall so that you can see Joelâs entire rugged figure and block the gate, not letting him leave⊠not with Callus, ânot that itâs any of your business.âïżŒ
âYeah you made that perfectly clear last night,â he grunts as he tugs at one of the saddleâs buckles, tightening it just enough.
You furrow your brows, planting your hands at each wooden post, ignoring the splinters threatening to impale your skin in your effort to trap Joel into the confined square, âwhatâre you doing?âïżŒ
Your attempt at interrogating him catches Joelâs attention, he glances at you over his shoulder with his hands outstretched over the horseâs middle. His nose is red from the cold, or maybe from crying, and you try your best not to falter, not to show that you care because you donât - you canât. You expect his answer to be as shut off as your own had been, an âainât no business of yours what Iâm doinâ or a âleave me the hell aloneâ, but he doesnât say either, âainât it obvious?â
âIâm not letting you go with Callus.â
âThought it was what you wanted - fâme to leave.â
âIâm not letting you steal Callus,â you fight the urge to roll your eyes while correcting yourself.
The determination fades from his features, like heâd expected you to change your mind about wanting him to leave. His eyes stay trained on you anyway, taking one last long look like he always did before he lost someone he cared about to a bite, to a gunshot wound⊠this almost seemed worst, youâre alive and heâd finally found you but you wanted nothing to do with him anymore - youâre slipping through his fingers again.
âIâm borrowinâ Callus,â he corrects you, resuming his movements, stuffing a few supplies that Maria or Tommy had probably given him because he cannot look at you any longer - treating you like youâre already a pile of ash on the ground.
Your grip on the poles to either side of you weakens until you completely let go, âw-what?â
âYour boss said I could take him with me.â
âTake him where?â
A small huff of a laugh leaves Joelâs lips, but you donât see it because youâre face to face with the back of his head, âUtah.â
Utah?
Is this all some kind of sick joke to him?
Heâs actually⊠leaving?
With Callus?
And Rickâs approval?
You donât believe him.
Joel has been here not even for a day and heâs going to get you in trouble.
After all the bullshit that youâd put Rick through, this is the bullshit that is going to get you fired?
Your hands ball into fists, knuckles brushing against the gloves that he left on your couch. Youâd snatched them on the way out of your house this morning, about to chuck them in the trash, but then you decided against it, figuring that theyâd be worth trading in for something so you tucked them into the waistband of your jeans⊠youâd forgotten about them until now.
Now that you notice the material of them against your skin, it burns. You reach for them and roughly tug them away, expecting to see bubbling ulcers and blood on your hips, but there arenât.
Relying entirely on your anger in this moment, not your racing heart, your fragmented breaths or your doubtful brain, you stride towards Joel. He turns quickly upon hearing your loud footsteps brushing through hay on concrete, his hands flying upward at the same time yours do, both your defence mechanisms responding to each otherâs with a dramatic flinch of your bodies.
âH-hereâs your - stupid gloves,â you grit your teeth as you shove them into his hands after you both realise that neither of you intended to scare the other out of their skin.
You try desperately not to make any contact with him as you do it, like Old Beardy avoided touching you at first, because youâre also terrified of what his touch will do to you. How itâd probably send you into another episode, another series of sleepless nights and nightmares⊠How itâd break you if you made skin to skin contact again, youâd fall for him all over again, youâre sure of it, but you have no choice against the matter because as soon as your hands are in reaching distance, he takes them into his, gripping onto you like his life depends on it.
A small hiss leaves your lips as the coldness of his skin on yours burns more than his gloves did, but you donât run from it⊠and thereâs no pool of blood or dead bodies to be seen.
Itâs just Joel - the real Joel, not the bloodthirsty alter ego of him youâd conjured up inside your head that you once knew him to be capable of being back in Boston.
âIâve got somethinâ that needs takinâ care of in Salt Lake Cityââ his thumbs brush over your fingers when he sees that youâre lost in the physical contact between you, he bows his head towards yours, luring your panicked eyes away from his closed hands around yours, âlisten to me - Iâm cominâ back⊠and if Tommy and Maria let me - Iâm stayinâââ
You shake your head.
âIâm gonna try to make things right between usââ
You shake your head again.
ââNd if you still want me to leave I will - I promise youâll never see me again.â
The stable door swings open before you can rip your hands away and scream at him, the words on the tip of your tongue...
âItâs too late to make things right.â
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All Too Well Masterlist
Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Summary: After meeting Joel one late night at a bar you launch into a whirlwind romance with him. But, between a nasty breakup and the end of the world, you're left with nothing but your thoughts of the past and the way they haunt you all too well. Warnings: 18+ Mature themes including: language, explicit smut, loss of virginity sexual references, SA (Not by Joel), Animal death, child death, eating disorders, starvation. Each part will have its own warnings. All chapters are 18+ however smut will be marked with a **. Takes place before, during, and after season one of The Last of Us. Set in a universe where Joel and Ellie never leave Jackson to look for the Fireflies. No use of Y/N.
Story Status: Complete
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen**
Extras/ AU's:
buy me presents, baby!
Word Count: 43k+
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Definitely going to see Three Bags Full for the plotâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠ..đ
ââ .⊠Renaissance - Levi Ackerman .⊠ââ
đȘœ Ëâ· ÍÍÍÍâł levi x fem reader
summary: levi leaves you in the underground for the scouts, only for him to find you again in marley when the war is over. however, nothing about you is the same as it once was. you are not the same person you were 12 years ago. cw: canon universe, eventual smut, fluff, yearning ao3 also in this story Levi doesn't need a wheelchair so hope you don't mind.
CHAPTER ONE
12 years later
War is over.
Titans have been eradicated, but at the cost of 80% of humanity.
Narrowly, you avoided the rumbling that trampled hundreds of thousands of people.
About 7 years after Levi left, you escaped the underground to find a new home. A new life.
Wishful thinking - since everyone treats people from the Underground the same. Like absolute dog shit. You lived in many cities over the years. But somehow, some way, you found yourself in Marley a few months after the war ended.
Birthdays came and went - and your 29th birthday just passed. Everything about your life changed. What you look like, what makes you happy, you're almost unrecognizable.
Being malnourished has made your body stunt in growth, and with being a woman comes birthing hips and curves you didn't know you could get.
Every day since Levi left, you've thought of him. Making sure you remember what he looks like, what his voice sounds like. At first you would try to keep up with what the Scout Regiment was doing, but they're stealthy, and you could only catch whispers of soldiers who passed away.
You always listened for the one name that mattered to you: Levi Ackerman.
Over the years, people in every city would talk a lot about Levi. How great of a soldier he is, how strong he is, and how everyone is afraid of him. Everyone in the walls knew who he was, outside the walls too.
Soon, he got the title of 'Captain'.
Captain Levi Ackerman.
You still remember the moment you heard someone utter his name - it was like your heart stopped beating right in your chest.
Captain Levi? Does he look the same? Is he eating? Sleeping? Is he able to drink his favorite tea?
For the record, if Levi knew how you've been living all of these years he would be livid. Appalled.
Before you got to Marley, you began working at brothels. It was the only thing you could do as a woman in the underground. Selling your body to make money - never feeling an ounce of pleasure from any of it.
You had no other choice. There was no other way for you to survive. There was no Levi to save you, so this is how you saved yourself.
When Levi left you, you were pure. Untouched, beautiful.
Now, you're stained.
Levi hates stains.
A few months after the rumbling, Marley was being rebuilt. Houses were being constructed, shops opening. With one bag in your hand and a dress you haven't worn in years, you find yourself in Marley.
People were working together, for once. No one was defensive and full of tension, or screaming.
You watched as small children played with simple toys, the sound of their laughs bringing a smile to your face. One of the children kicked their ball towards you, letting it hit your feet.
You smile at them, they probably think you're young too with how short you are. You gently kick the ball in their direction, watching them all giggle as they continue playing.
When you look to your right, you see a tea shop. Looks rather new, but open. You purse your lips in thought, tilting your head curiously as you look at the building.
You are rather thirsty.
When you open your purse, you see some bills from a client you had the night before. "Thank goodness." You sigh, tilting your head back as you feel the warm spring heat on your face.
You're still not used to being in the sun so much. It's something that everyone, and you mean everyone takes for granted.
When you would make small talk with the other girls that work at the brothel, they acted like being able to feel the warmth of the sun was no big deal.
As you walk into the tea shop, you peer around, looking for someone, anyone. The walls are pretty bare, decorated with newspaper articles and a few florals placed around the space.
"Hello?" You finally speak, your eyebrows raised as you look from left to right.
Nothing.
"Maybe it's not open." You sigh, walking up to one of the newspaper articles on the wall. You have to squint to read the text, but a few words stand out.
CAPTAIN LEVI ACKERMAN. HUMANITY'S STRONGEST SOLDIER.
As you read the article, you can feel goosebumps forming all over your body, sending shivers down your spine.
Then you saw a picture of him.
He's in his Scout Regiment uniform, a forest green hooded cape over his head. Your eyes find his on the page and your breath hitches.
Fuck, he's so beautiful.
"Oi, we're not open -" You hear a deep voice from behind you, startling you as you turn around on your heel, your breath stolen from you.
In front of you is Levi Ackerman, but not the Levi that left you 12 years ago.
He's Definitely Obsessed With You: Chapter 1
Plot: You're readjusting to life after a gunshot wound to the shoulder in Vietnam, figuring yourself out and navigating the waters of life back in the States. The only thing that really kept you steady was the thought of Logan, although after his letters to you dropped off, you still thought about him, and begin to wonder and doubt- if anything had ever been there between you two at all.
A/N: Okay, I PROMISE the next chapter will have more Logan. I really wanted to build on where reader was at in life both physically and mentally, and what they were going through. It's important I SWEAR. This also came out really long. I just kept typing and adding more and more to it. It's not perfect but if I don't post it now I'll never post it
Warnings: Reader gets horny af thinking about Logan (18+ please, although it's not super descriptive), mentions of blood and gore (not super in depth), politics regarding Vietnam, allusions to PTSD, and reader has anxiety and slight depression, mentions of nightmares mentions of weed, making out, etc. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes
Word Count: 6319
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CHAPTER 1: Thatâs Really Unhealthy Honestly
1971, New York City, New York
âYouâre not going to pursue becoming a doctor?âÂ
You sat across from Doctor Frank Jones, the military doctor you were working under back in Vietnam. Today was your last day of physical therapy, rehabbing your arm and shoulder after getting shot in the jungle, a stray bullet hitting you- instead of the soldiers that stood guard around you while you were attempting an amputation on a young private, who had gotten stuck in a grisly dirt trap made by the Vietcong, and you were not able to get his leg out with the damage that had been done. Medics, doctors, nurses, were usually never targeted, either side knew not to hurt the people of medicine, that was just a rule of war, but that still didnât mean you werenât in any danger.Â
Doctor Jones wanted to meet with you, having kept track of your progress when you returned to the states. It wasnât his job to do so, but he was fond of you, and saw potential of making a good doctor out of you. You, on the other hand, werenât so sure about it anymore. You hoped he wouldnât push you.
Jones was a good man, a good doctor. He was older, and had served in the military a long time as a doctor. Salt and pepper hair, handsome, with a polite and genuine face that was beginning to see his years of military, worry lines that merely added to his character, he reminded you of an older version of Rock Hudson. His voice was steady and low, and he talked like a professor, quick and precise with his words.Â
âNot now at least, I havenât decided.â You informed him, cupping your mug of warm lemon herbal tea you ordered from the pleasant little coffee shop that you agreed to meet him at. It was in one of the less crowded neighborhoods of New York, but traffic and people were still bustling by the window, the door of the shop opening and shutting every few minutes, as a people came in to grab a coffee or a donut as they continued their daily routine, routine full of coffee, work, and some kind of personal dilemna, some angsty problem they face in their day to day life, and maybe a touch of romance, if theyâre lucky. It was 8 in the morning, the world was waking up, and carrying on their lives.
As if there wasnât a war going on.Â
You have not exactly adjusted to your new life and routine. You had been formally discharged from the military, with some kind of honors, something your CO pushed for you, due to the work you did over in Vietnam. You didnât really care about that though. You never joined the military for fancy honors and discounts, you joined because you wanted to help people. You had all your reasons why, your own personal backstory, but in the end it was just what you wanted to do. Although you do appreciate your CO vouching for you. Now, you were left wondering what to do with yourself. A month of recovery and rehab, you spent it trying to figure out what you wanted to do when you finally were done with it all. Life back in the States was an adjustment, your sleep schedule was wrecked, a mixture of nightmares and insomnia. Your family and friends were happy to have you back, and you gotten countless visits from them- and while you were happy to see the familiar faces to, it felt weird just to jump into this new reality, where everyone is okay, happy, and not counting on you to save them. Youâd think it give you some release, the pressure and stress dissipating the moment you got your discharge papers, but to be honest, you could never be more tense.Â
It occurred to you that you had zoned out, staring at your tea that was slowly becoming cold, Doctor Jones having called your name multiple times, and it wasnât until he gently touched your arm that drew you from your thoughts.Â
âHave you seen a therapist?â He asked you, concern spread across his face.Â
âWhat?â
âI get returning back to reality after what you went through can beâŠdisorientating. Thereâs nothing wrong with searching for some help.â He says gently, letting go of your arm and returning to his espresso.Â
âReality?â You sat back in your chair, sitting your tea on the table, your voice tinged with irritation. âFelt pretty real back there.âÂ
âYou know what I mean.â He mutters. âSo, have you?â
âNo.â You shook your head. It wasnât that you saw anything wrong with therapy, or that you had trouble admitting you needed help. You were still adjusting, and you just werenât ready to go and start working through the last four years of your service in âNam. You wanted to figure out your next step, and get yourself settled first. âI will, I just want to figure things out first.â
He nodded. âSo, are you planning to stay in New York?âÂ
You pursed your lips together, and shook your head. âProbably should, since my familys nearby. Honestly though the city justâŠisnât where I want to be right now.â You said, your mind flashing with the place you did want to go. Somewhere you originally planned to just visit, but now your mind- your trusty gut instinct, was telling you that maybe itâs where you should be all along. âIâm thinking of moving out into somewhere small.â
âAh, searching for a little peace and quiet?â He hummed, a tight lipped smile. You returned the same smile back and nodded, hunching in your seat a little bit.Â
âYeah, itâsâŠa place in Canada. In Alberta, a small little town.â You say. A look of surprise came across his face. âA friend, told me about it. He was from there and he always talked about how beautiful it was. He always thought Iâd enjoy it, long as I get used to the harsh winters.â Your smiled turned into something warmer, as you thought about Logan. There was an ache in your chest though, something in your heart.Â
You werenât able to say goodbye to him. He wasnât there when you got shot, and everything happened so fast, as they had thrown you onto the closest evac to get you to some medical hospital, since no one could take care of you there the way you did for them. When your belongings got sent back to you, sent to the hospital you were staying at in the States, he had written a letter, urging you to rest, and a heartfelt apology for not being there for you. It was that, and a polaroid photo one of the medic boys took of you two, his arm around your shoulder, his body turned to you, as he practically glared at the camera in his trademark expression, yet still managing to look handsome as always, and you, a big smile on your face, your hand up in a âvictoryâ sign, which somehow turned into a symbol of peace in this era, and you were leaning in to him. You keep it on you all the time, a small comfort of him carried in your bag or pocket. You of course quickly wrote back to him, telling him everything that happened, and expressed how deeply you missed him. It was unusually emotional for the both of you, considering you typically took jabs at each other, and joked around more often than not. Yet you both were always able to open up to each other- without fear of judgement. It was true, you missed him, and despite the fact that you were home, surrounded by loved ones, you felt more alone than ever because he wasnât there. Perhaps thatâs why youâre chosing to move to his hometown.Â
âThat sounds nice.â He nods, noticing the way your cheeks turned pink at the mention of your friend. âWell, Iâm sorry to hear youâll be putting off med-school. Iâm glad youâre taking the time to rest though, thatâs more important.â
âThank you.â You say softly. âItâs not a permanent decision. I just want to figure myself out-â
âYou donât have to explain yourself to me. You have a good head on your shoulders. I know whatever you do will be the right thing. I simply want to just encourage you.â He stops you, holding a hand up, and then using that hand to brush his hair back, before resting it on the table. Despite his words, his body language told you he was slightly disappointed. âIf you do however, change your mind-â
âIâll call.â You smiled. You knew why he wanted this for you. Society was changing, while women doctors were not unheard of, it was still a rarity. It was part of the reason why you werenât sure about going to med-school, you werenât sure if you were ready to face the scrutiny that you would surely get. Not that anything like that has ever stopped you before, but Vietnam had changed something in you, you were lost in yourself and what to do, the world was moving so fast around you and you couldnât keep up. He smiled back. âWhat about you?â You asked him,Â
âIâll be staying in New York. I was called to work on a project not far from here.â
âYouâre still in the military?â
âOf course. With the injury I sustained,I canât go back to âNam, I wouldnât be fast enough to work the pace itâs like there. They figure Iâm more useful with this project, will supposedly help with the war effort.âÂ
âHelp with the war effort?â You asked, annoyance creeping up your stomach. âSurely you donât still think this war is necessary, right? Itâs gone on long enough?âÂ
âOf course. I still feel a duty for my country though. I donât blame you for feeling the way you do-â
âFrank, câmon.â You scoffed. âThereâs no reason to be over there. I watched so many young boys, and men, die, or get so messed up they lose apart of themselves-â
âI know, I was there too-â
âThen you shouldnât want to help with the effort.â You voice rose a bit, filed with tension and anger, falling back into your seat and crossing your arms. âEvery little thing you do for them, in regards to Vietnam, just keeps this war going, those boys over there - innocent people in that country are still dying and-â You stopped yourself, as he looked at you with indignation. âSorry.â You mutter.Â
âI get your frustration. I do believe the war should end, and I believe If I help with the effort, then perhaps I can help make things end faster too.â He explains himself calmly. Your hands were shaking, it wasnât the first time you gotten heated over the topic of Vietnam since youâve been home. It frustrated you to no end watching people endlessly argue on whether it should happening or not. Taking a deep breath, you nodded, sipping at your tea, now having gotten cold because you completely forgot about it.Â
âLetsâŠjust move on.â You suggested, feeling like if you linger on the thought of âNam any longer you were going to burst in the middle of the shop. He nodded, and you listened to Doctor Jones ramble on, mentioning he couldnât give you details on the project, but it was exciting nonetheless. Then he switched to talk about his kids, his son having turned into a huge hippie - which ended up making you laugh, as Jones was very patriotic for the most part, loyal to the country, but he seemed to understand and accept his sons opinions and lifestyle. Perhaps his injury had given him a new perspective on life, a new meaning, even if he was still aiding the militaryâŠ
You, though, you were still trying to find your meaning.
1972, Alberta, Canada
âOh shit!âÂ
You yelped as you stepped outside the porch of your house, into the freezing cold air that surrounded you. You wrapped your arms around you in attempt to warm yourself, as you quickly ran down the steps of your porch and to the mailbox. The metal door immediately froze your fingers as you pulled it open, peering inside for mail, and you spotted two envelopes. You reached in, snatching them and quickly ran back into the house, stomping your feet on the outdoor rug that sat in front of the door, and kicking them off once you stepped into the warmth of your house, the heat cloaking around you- just biting at the cold that stung your cheeks.Â
âGirl you are CRAZY!âÂ
You smiled at your roommate, Rose Mitchell, a lovely yet feisty woman, around your age. You met her at your current job, nursing at the âlocalâ hospital. (Not so local, but itâs the closest hospital to this little town youâve moved too.). She was a new nurse too, and you invited her to be your roommate at the shaggy little house you found and slowly worked on fixing up. You had the money to be on your own, but you and Rose had become fast friends, despite being polar opposites in some ways.Â
You loved rock music, but she was all about pop and that new disco, and you both found balance in enjoying jazz. Your styles couldnât be more different as well, you sported jeans, bellbottoms, band shirts, jumpsuits, crop tops, the more comfortable style of clothing in this new era you were finding yourself in, while she wore short skirts, leopard prints, heels, tight dresses that barely covered your thighs- and she looked damn good in it. With such opposite styles of clothing, it guaranteed you wouldnât steal each others clothing. You admired Rose for her honesty and confidence, her ability to fit in anywhere and everywhere because she was sure of who she was. She didnât allow society to turn her into something she was not, especially with the discrimination she had to face growing up. She was a party girl, and why she decided to move to this small town with you, instead of the bigger city where your work is located, you wonât understand- but she had become your closest friend, another girl you could talk about those girl things with. She was close to your height when she wasnât in heels, had a beautiful natural afro that she was quite proud of, and dark brown eyes that matched her skin color. Sheâs the only reason you havenât technically become a hermit yet, as she pushed you out of zone, making you go to parties and bars and concerts with her nearly every weekend - and while at first you dreaded it, you began to grow to enjoy the time and memories you were making. In fact, youâve really begun to start building a life for yourself here.Â
When you first moved here, you were still struggling with yourself, adjusting to your life, a new job, and a completely new environment compared to New York, that you were previously residing in. You were shutting yourself off from people, staying in the comfort of your home, trying to pick up old hobbies you left behind before you had joining the army medics. You believed yourself to think that you were doing fine, but the longer you went, the more anxiety began to build inside you, nightmares plagued you, and you even found yourself growing paranoid when out alone in public, afraid of getting jumped, of getting shot. As much as you didnât want to do it and begin to work through the trauma of it, you forced yourself into therapy. It got you to be a little lighter, to open up, which is how you ended up talking to Rose, and how she ended up your roommate. Slowly, as you were working through things, life became a little brighter, and less lonely. You made new friends, new connections. You still struggled deep inside, there were still days whereâd you feel haunted by the ones left in Vietnam, men who always appeared tough as steel, clinging to you and sobbing, young boys begging for their moms to save them, the blood and the gore you witnessed that no human should witness. Youâd have these impulsive urges, to pack up and go back to the country and do something. You may not be able to save every life but you could at least provide comfort to them, you could help, but you knew better. Going back wasnât the answer. Looking back wasnât the answer. It was time to move forward, and you always been good at embracing the future.
The only thing missing, was him
Rose was curled up on the couch, a blanket settled over her, as she had a book in one hand and tea that you made her in the other. âYou are so obsessed with the mail, itâs really unhealthy. Just because your waiting for a man to writeâ She clicked her tongue.Â
You sorted through the two envelopes, one addressed to her, which you flicked at her playfully, it flying across the room like a boomerang until she smacked it away with her hand, gasping dramatically at your audacity. You giggled, looking at the other envelope- it was addressed to you, but it wasnât from who you wanted it to be from. You groaned, dropping your shoulders. Roses smile faded.Â
âNothing?â She asked. You shook your head, setting the envelope into a basket, stacked with mail addressed to you that you didnât care to open. âSorry hunâŠ.â She says sympathetically as you move to sit next to her, crisscrossing your legs.Â
âI donât get why he hasnât been writing.â You say, bringing your nails up and chewing, an anxious habit youâve formed.Â
âHeâs probably just busy.â She wrote. âYouâve been over there, didnât you say you canât get a break some days?âÂ
âYeahâŠâ Your eyes stared at the ground. As embarrassing as it was for you to admit, his letters were like a lifeline for you. You had been writing back and forth a little over a year now. You excitedly told him about moving to his hometown- even bought a polaroid and took pictures of the town, the forests, and your house to send back to him. You wrote about your job, and the friends youâve made. Heâd tell you about the things going on over there, the camp you were at has now been taken down, moved to a different location, nearby a village, heâd tell you the antics he and the others would get up too- and complain about how the new doctor that was assigned to the camp was a huge asshole, and that he was glad he had self-healing abilities because then he wouldnât have to deal with his smug ass. His letters would make you smile, and blush, because heâd often tell you he thinks about you a lot. You two shared feelings more easily through writing than you would in person, because putting your feelings on paper than saying it outloud was easier. Although you still hadnât addressed the other feelings you had for each other, ironic, considering if anyone had read your letters- they would have thought you two were involved.Â
âI hate seeing you like this.â Rose says, turning in her spot to face you. âYouâre so depressed over a guy you havenât even slept with!âÂ
Your eyes widen and you gasped. âWhat- No- Iâm not! Iâm just worried about him.â you felt your cheeks start to burn.
âYes you are. Girl it ainât WORTH it.â She exclaims. âYou shouldnât be getting all worked up over him. You got to focus on your OWN life. I mean, youâre breaking your own heart, and you sit here all worried about him and if he writes letters and all, what if heâs come back, and yaâll do the nasty and heâs got a small -â
âOh my god, donât-â You interrupted her, holding you hand up to make her stop, â and Uh, excuse me, I have focused on my own life.â You rolled your eyes. âI got a house, a good job, you!â You argued. âIâm happy. I get out and socialize, do fun stuff-â
âYeah because I make you.â She crosses her arms. âYouâre so heads over heels with this guy, whoâs literally halfway across the world. You donât date and you turn down every man that does ask you out!âÂ
âJust because Iâm not interested in dating doesnât mean itâs because head over heels, for Logan. We are literally just friends, nothing romantic. And DEFINITELY, nothing sexual like youâre claiming- you vixen.â You rolled your eyes.Â
That was a lie. You were definitely hard for Logan. When you were in Vietnam, you were too busy to think about sex or any kind of personal pleasure. Then Logan showed up and your hormones flared to life for the first time in a long time and havenât stopped since - leaving you with the biggest, non-stop hard on you ever had- even if he isnât here. Now your home and itâs so much worse. The only temporary relief you get is late nights alone with you, your hand, and your imagination. Hell any moment youâd see him shirtless around camp, or even just think about him shirtless, had you soaked within seconds, with his hard pecs covered in coarse hair, his chiseled stomach, hard abs that flexed anytime he strained his muscles, which led to a happy trail below his pants, a prominent vein that travels up from below his pants- that you have spent more time than you care to admit, staring at in secret. Youâd watch how his biceps flex as he carried heavy boxes and guns, and youâd wish heâd put you in a headlock with them as he railed you from behind. It filled you with guilt to feel like that over someone you did consider a close friend, but sometimes your mind wonders, and suppose you are just a ladyâŠEmbarrassingly enough, your CO had caught you staring at him in a dreamlike state multiple times, and reminded you to keep your head straight and out of the clouds, but you did notice he began sending Logan to give you your supplies and papers more often.Â
âYou so are. I see how you blush when you look at that picture of you two.â She points accusingly. âYou need to get laid girl. And not just in your head.â she continues, leaning over to poke at your temple. You laughed, shaking your head. You were becoming embarrassed at this conversation. Yes, itâs true. You didnât have a sex life, or a dating life. It wasnât as if you didnât have the choice, you had plenty of opportunities, youâve been asked out, flirted with. Some of the men Rose was friends with were handsome, charming, and would usually be your type- but you just didnât want them. Maybe it was a little unhealthy, holding onto Logan, you guys were still just friends, no matter how often you may fantasize over him, and build up your relationship with him in your head. Your little bubble was about to pop, the more Rose spoke in your ear. âIâm serious!â She practically shrieks. âThis is the most freedom us women have ever had when it comes to sex. Take advantage of it!âÂ
You rolled your eyes. She was right. Things were starting to change in the world- slowly, and for the better you hoped. Society was beginning to be more open and accepting, signifying that maybe things will start to get better. There was peace talks with Vietnam, the US was considering officially pulling out of the war. Even mutants werenât getting the hard flack they usually were, albeit, theyâre still getting painted as violent criminals in most parts of the states, but the government had dropped the bill that would put restrictions on mutants, and force anyone who was a mutant to identify and register themselves as mutants. Much to your relief. It wasnât that you wanted to go around banging every guy you see - which is an activity that Rose pursued often, not that you cared, but you did just want that human connection with someone that just wasnât over paper.Â
 You werenât ready to let go of Logan though, even if youâre starting to wonder if maybe you were setting yourself up for heartbreak, and not because he may have a small⊠Well, yâknow, that was not important. He may be over there, writing letters to you with one hand, while he has another woman- who knows maybe another nurse- in his other hand. Howâd you know he really feels anything for you? He hasnât written a letter back in weeks. Part of you though knew better, Logan wasnât the type, youâd seen if even when he didnât know you were watching. While surely he was a man with desires, heâd never participate in the âlocker roomâ talk youâd overhear many of the soldiers do. Heâd sit there in silence, eating his rations, or sharping his knife, or staring into the fire, not joining in whenever they asked him if he had a type- or if he liked this particularly pair of tits on a playboy magazine that somehow got snuck into the camp. It was part of why you liked him, respectful, even if he was given all the room to beâŠwell, a man. Another part of you still worried though, Vietnam was already dangerous, and even if he could heal, neither you- nor he, knew his limits in that. He was smart and knew how to survive, you heard the stories the other privates would bring back when they came back from patrols. What if he gets discovered as a mutant? You got by lucky, he may not. What if heâs not writing because he got too badly hurt? What if he got discovered? What if he was captured by VC? You couldnât bear the idea of someone you cared about so deeply being hurt.
Maybe you were just overthinking everything. You do that often nowadays.Â
Rose could see it on your face, as she moved to sit next to you, resting her head on your shoulder. âWell, I suppose I canât blame you for holding out. He is pretty darn cute in that polaroid youâre so attached too.â She hums, making you both burst into giggles.Â
1973, Alberta, Canada
âSo, you were in Vietnam huh?âÂ
You stared blankly at the fellow that Rose has introduced you too. He was leaning against the doorframe, where you were standing just in case you needed a quick escape, but now that he was here, that wasnât going to be an option anymore. He raised a brow waiting for an answer, but you were lost staring at the mustache above his lip. It was becoming a common style nowadays, and you heard a few friends start referring it as a âpornstacheâ. You didnât want to know why. The thing looked like a giant fuzzy caterpillar on his top lip, and honestly, it was grossing you out. Â
âUm. Yeah.â You say plainly. âI was a army nurse.âÂ
âGroovy.â He smirks, a small nod of his head. âBet youâre glad the wars over then, right?â
âYeah. Glad.â You nodded. You hugged your cup to your body, looking around the party that Rose invited you to. Well, invited was a nice way of putting it. She practically dragged you here kicking and screaming.Â
President Nixon declared that the US and North Vietnam had signed an agreement, officially ending the war between the two. Troops have been pulled from the country, coming home to the States. It was great news, finally ending the dreaded conflict that shouldnât have started in the first place. Celebrations popped up everywhere for the last few month as the boys came home, but it left you feeling solemn, you were worried about the fallout. What was going to happen now? These boys coming home, having gone through hell on Earth. Youâve had two years to adjust and learn how to live and cope. Youâve had support. What about them?
Itâs been a year since you last heard from Logan. You had to resign yourself and accept that you may never hear from him again. You werenât given the privilege in learning what happened to Logan. After a month had passed with no letter, you gave into your worries and attempted to make calls to find out what happened, and no avail. You either didnât have clearance, or they didnât know. It wasnât like you couldnât find his family and reach out either, he had no family aside from his brother who was there with him. You were just starting to let go- and for some Rose thought that meant you were ready to mingle. You werenât sure yet but you definitely didnât want to mingle with this guy.Â
âWhyâd you go over there?â He asked. âBeautiful lady like you, you could have stayed home, shoot the fat, hang the breeze.âÂ
âIâŠReally rather not talk about it.â You say, trying to show how disinterested you were. Hoping he would get bored and go away, allowing you to slip out unnoticed. He just smiled though,Â
âYou seem tense.â He reaches out to touch your arm, making your eyes quickly dart down to where he was holding onto you, your lips pursing together as you tried your best not to rip your arm away and cause a scene.Â
âIâm fine.â You say, slowly pulling back from him.Â
âWe could always slip away from here. Get to know each other a little better?â He grinned, flexing his eyebrows sensually. âI could help you relax.â Now you just wanted to puke.Â
âNo thanks.â You say pulling yourself away from the door. Youâll just have to look for another way of escape. You entertained the party long enough. It was inside a huge house, spanning outside over a large decorated lawn- some friend of Rose who was apart of a rich family was throwing it to celebrate his cousin coming back from the war, which you could appreciate family appreciating each other like that. Your own loved ones had done something similar, accept with maybe less questionable substances hanging around all over the place. Honestly, it seemed more of an excuse for people to make out and get high, than celebrate said cousin. Although as you moved through the crowded rooms and halls of people talking, drinking, dancing to some kind of funk playing in the background, and smoking cigarettes and molly. You spotted said cousin, who was introduced to everyone that came in, sitting on the couch in the living room, with scantily clad women at either side of him, giggling and petting at his chest and thighs. Well, at least he was enjoying himself. You can get along with almost anybody, but this type of party just wasnât your beat, and not to mention you already had a long day at work, youâd like nothing more than to go home, get into something comfortable, curl up on the couch with some warm tea, and watch Clint Eastwood movies. You could appreciate Rose supporting you and pushing you out of your comfort zone, but you figured out a long time ago that comfort zone or not- this was not your idea of living. Youâll support her all the way, while you sat in pajames and slippers at home.
Searching for Rose in the crowd, you found her making out in the corner with some tall, dark, and handsome guy clad in leather. For a moment youâd pondered how rude it would be, if you interrupted her, at the same time though, sheâd be madder if you left without letting her know.Â
âRose- Rose!â You called her name over the loud music, before tapping her shoulder, and she tore away from the leather beast. Seriously, he was wearing a lot of leather. That couldnât be comfortable.Â
âHey! Whatâsup?â She turned her full attention to you, one hand still holding onto the mans hip, assuring him she wasnât leaving, but still wanted to make sure you felt heard.Â
âIâm going home-â You spoke over the music. âBut thank you so much for inviting me- Iâm just, tired, you know?âÂ
âWhat, you didnât like Jeffery?â She asked you, seemingly surprised, as if she hadnât learned what your type is by now. You laughed, shaking your head.Â
âNo, but thanks.â
âWell, are you sure? About going home?â She asks worriedly. You grabbed her hand and squeezed it.Â
âIâm just fine,â You say amused. âYouâll be alright?âÂ
âGirl,â She looked at the man, who was watching you both with amusement. She leaned in towards you, a huge smile spread across her face, her lipstick catching your eye, a bright pink, slightly smushed from her tongue dance with leather daddy behind her, as she lowered her voice, âIâll be more than alright, thatâs for damn sure.âÂ
You both laughed, as you playfully pushed her back towards him, you blew a kiss to her, and turned around with a small wave to Roseâs new playmate, as you managed to find the back door and leave, not wanting to risk going back to the front and running into Pornstache again.Â
The house was on the other side of the small town you were living in. You and Rose had a car, but the weather was warming up, and you both decided a walk over, which was your way of planning to be able to escape on your own if you needed to. Hopefully your solo walk would be a little nicer, since the walk to the party, Rose ended up complaining because she wore heels on the walk over.Â
You zipped up your bolero jacket, and stuff your hands into the pockets of your jeans as you made your way down the quiet streets, the music and smell of weed fading off with each step, leaving you with a clear head. You had to applaud yourself. If you were there a year ago, you would have likely gotten a panic attack, locked yourself in a closet or bathroom until things had quieted down, or Rose found you and got you home. This time though, you felt good- glad you got out- but you donât feel that tight squeezing in your chest, the way your blood would began to freeze, as your limbs began to feel weightless, your vision becoming unfocused. Nope. Not this time.
Now you get to enjoy the air, and the spring breeze.Â
Of course, your mind wandered to Logan again. It often did, you couldnât help it. You still missed him. Youâd find yourself rereading his letters, searching for any signs of why he may have never written back, but you could never see it. He seemed just as eager as you to write. Youâd stare longingly at the polaroid, which youâve retired to stay by your bedside table, since carrying it around so long as started to wear it out, fraying the edges. Youâd walk around the town heâd grew up in. He said it looked different then, compared to when he was a kid, which youâd imagine since it was over a hundred years ago,but you still imagined what itâd be like to see him there, tell you what things used to look like, how things used to be. Itâd been a long time since you seen him, and even though you had the picture, you could still close you eyes and picture every detail of his face and his voice.Â
How pathetic
Itâs been a year since you heard from him, and two years since you last seen him! You were so caught up your friendship with him, turning it into a fake romance in your head because you were lonely and didnât want to admit that. You felt embarrassed at this whole thing. Why were you so hung up on one man, when there was plenty of others out there, that you could easily build a connection with just as you did with Logan. Okay, maybe you felt like he saw you the way nobody else could, maybe he was the first guy to ever make your heart flutter with just a smile, maybe he was the first person ever to have taken the time to really gotten to know you, your faults, your quirks, the way you like your teaâŠ.
Ugh!
Maybe thatâs why it was so frustrating. Because you felt like you had found someone you could truly connected with, and somehow it had whittled away. You were grasping at what used to be a rope, hanging off of it in the darkness- attaching you to Logan, looking at you with those hazel eyes that still made your brain fuzzy as it did the first time you met him, even a year later of getting to know him while in Vietnam. The rope was now just a few pieces of string, and it was officially about to snap. Whatever happens, or happened to him, you could only hope that he was safe, and happy, wherever he was, as you closed your eyes, and felt it break. You had to move on. Right?
You opened your eyes and found yourself in front of your house. You were so lost in your thoughts, you donât even remember half of your walk anymore. You sighed, hands sticking in your jackets pocket to pull out your house keys as you approached your porch.Â
âStuck in your head again, huh bub?âÂ
A familiar voice ripped you from your thoughts, as you swung around, dropping your keys in shock at the figure that stood at the end of the sidewalk, your breath stolen at the sight,Â
And you smiled.
More Than Words
3. An Advantageous Journey
Logan Howlett x OC!Reader
Series Summary: Having lived for over two hundred years and never having the privilege of human touch is the biggest burden imaginable... until someone comes along with the healing ability to withstand the touch of death.
Chapter Warnings: mild language, mentions of scars and blood, a few traumatic events and ptsd symptoms, mostly fluff in this one guys⊠but LOGAN IS A WARNING. Oh and also Iâm not from Canada and only have one Canadian friend so my apologies if Canada is depicted poorly⊠she was like âitâs just like America except thereâs more snow and some people speak Frenchâ
Chapter Summary: Going back to Canada is supposed to be a quick trip that benefits Loganâs memory, but upon arriving, he seems to think that a fews days need be spent on diversions.
Word Count: 15.3k (God help me-)
âThen how were they able to cut you up?â Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording.  âSame way you were able to,â you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. âAdamantium.â âAdamantium? Youâre kidding,â he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. Heâs the only one who can touch you, but heâs also the only one who can hurt you. âHowâd they figure that out?â
The professor was the first one to speak to Logan the morning you both planned on leaving the mansion. Everyone was made aware of this, but few people understood why it was so necessary. Even Scott, who had endured some of the same treatment as you and Logan, did not know how to justify such a spontaneous trip in the midst of all the chaos surrounding mutants. Especially after the recent situation with Magneto.
It could be dangerous, but above all things, it could also bring answers. And Logan needed answers. About who he was, what he did, and where heâs supposed to go, now. The pain from his nightmares has subsided only a small bit while being here with everyone. He wants to make them go away for good.Â
When Charles sits him down in the study that morning, he thinks he understands why. Youâre a very important member of the team. He wants to make sure you return, and without a scratch. It makes sense in his mind⊠but the professor has other ideas for the conversation.Â
âHow long do you both plan on being away?â He asks, keeping a tether on Loganâs mind in case he is even the slightest bit dishonest.Â
âNot sure,â he began with a sigh, sitting back into the seat heâd been given. âI guess it depends.â
âOn what, exactly?â Charles kept his questioning thorough, but not for the reason of interrogating him.Â
âOn what we find.â Logan shrugged his shoulders and raised a brow. He really had no idea what he was going into when you said youâd take him to Strykerâs old bunker. âGuessing from the nightmares Iâve had, itâs not really a nice place.â
âWell, I assure you,â Charles began, turning his chair to the side and reaching for some documents on his desk. âYou are in the best of hands. The very best. I just hope you know how lucky you really are.â
âLucky? How so?â Loganâs curiosity wandered. He knew you were a valuable member of the team, and he was grateful that you would offer him such a strenuous task on your own shoulders, but he caught on that there was more that Charles hadnât spoken.Â
âAlice is a rare mutant. Like you, she can stand the tests of time, and never waiver. She is nearly immortal, and takes her job of protecting others very seriously.âÂ
âI picked that up,â Logan nodded in agreement. âShe cares a lot about saving people.â
âShe cares even more for those who are close to her,â the old man warned, his expression becoming more solemn and serious. âShe will go to incredible lengths to keep her loved ones out of harmâs way.â
Logan was beginning to wonder where the point was in all of this. He knew you were the type to look out for others above yourself. You were an X-man, it kind of came as a job requirement⊠but more than that, he knew you were kinder than most people were, and the help you extended to him was not just a simple favor.Â
âShe has never experienced a bond like she has with you⊠with human touch.â
He understands now. Your powers, and the impact they have had on you is immense. You have to keep everyone at armâs length, except for him. He can be let in, and he can do the things that others canât.
âWhat exactly are you telling me?â Logan pondered, gruffly. Even with the professorâs point being made, he was still curious as to why he would bring this all up.
âIâm telling you to be careful. Sheâs already grown strongly attached to you for the sake of your touch, and will likely become fonder in these days to come. I ask you to think about and consider her feelings when you take her with you⊠If you hurt her, the consequences would be unimaginable.â
Logan does consider them, for a split second he considers them. He knows youâre fond of him, otherwise this escapade would not even be happening⊠but he also knows that his ability to touch you is the defining factor. His feelings for someone else block out any signs that your interest in him could further develop, at least past what it is already. Even with all this in mind, Logan is a smartass, and wants to tempt the man in charge by challenging his threat.Â
âI can imagine quite a bit,â he smirked, nodding his head side to side.Â
Charles did not take that comedically whatsoever, and Logan didnât really expect him to. It was probably a bad idea to open his mouth in the first place.Â
âYou mock me when Iâm trying to help you?âÂ
âNo sir,â he let out with a breath.Â
âThe consequences I speak of would not be dealt by I or any of her colleaguesâŠâ
âThen by who?â Logan asked, his voice not raised, but becoming more prominent as the conversation became more pointed than it was before. âIs there some big bad monster I should be worried about?âÂ
Charles sighed. He wasnât getting anywhere, and Logan only seemed to become irritated the more he spoke. He took a glance into the manâs mind, and found that a beautiful woman with long red hair rested among his thoughts, though he should not be thinking about the woman that is most definitely taken.Â
âI can see that your mind is clouded by thoughts of someone else,â Xavier changed the subject, tapping into the specific thoughts and trying to gather more details. It appears this conversation was mostly for nothing. Charles sighs, âDo not hurt Alice, Logan. If you do, her pain will become yours.â
âI wonât hurt her,â Logan stood up, assuming this was the last of the professorâs advisory words. He was becoming quickly annoyed with how little the man trusted him, and how intrusive heâd been this whole time.Â
He wouldnât lead you on, but he wouldnât shut you out, either. Youâd been so helpful to him, he wasnât going to push away the one piece of his past that just might bring everything together. That would be foolish of him.Â
âLogan,â The professor stopped him one more time, and he turned to look at the man, sitting straight and with a firm gaze from his wheelchair. âWhen the time is right, ask her about a man named Charlie.â
Logan sighed, filing that thought away in his mind before heading back upstairs to pack some of his belongings together.Â
-
You never wanted to go back to Canada.Â
You swore after you got out the first time that nothing good could ever come out of Canada and you stuck to that belief.Â
But youâd met Logan in Canada, and he wasnât so bad. Scott, too⊠although heâd been a teenager at the time and was much more annoying back then.
âOn your way already?â Ororo was leaning in your doorway when you looked up, watching you stuff your travel backpack until it could barely zip up on the side.Â
âAbout to be,â you heaved it up onto your back, adjusting your posture to hold it correctly, then walked to meet her at the door. âI wasnât going to leave without saying goodbye.â
She grabbed your hand, covered in your little green gloves. âKeep in touch, will you?âÂ
âI will, I promise,â you nodded gently. âI wonât stay away for long.â
âYou say that now,â she crossed her arms and shook her head jokingly. âBut going away with a guy that looks like that? And heâs the only man in the world that can touch you? Baby, Iâll be lucky if I ever see you again.â
You laughed along with her, giving a warm smile and a nod. âHeâs somethingâŠâ
âHeâs ready to go,â Logan teased, coming up behind Ororo.
You blushed, knowing he probably heard the conversation while leaving his room. You avoided making eye contact with him yet, just gave a thin lip smile while looking back to your dear friend and saying your last goodbyes. You only wished you could hug her close to you, for all the years sheâs spent in your corner.Â
âI guess Iâll see you around, Ro.âÂ
âDonât be a stranger⊠Call me when you can.â She gave you a strong look, indicating that she was serious, and not just playing along for the sake of goodbyes.
âYou know I willâŠâ you trailed, giving her one more squeeze of the hand before walking behind Logan towards the stairs.Â
Once at the bottom, there was just a slight obstacle. Rogue caught you both leaving, and had a few words to say.Â
Youâd admit, you felt bad leaving her here, especially when youâd been so adamant to her before that you were going to teach her about her powers and how to get used to them without the fear of hurting others. Itâs only now that you realize you wonât be able to help in the most detrimental stages of her mutant education⊠but you would return. You knew you would.Â
You had to help Logan, first. He was the priority. He saved your life once, and it was time to pay that debt forward.Â
Logan had left his dog tags with Rogue, along with a promise that he would be back. Of course he would⊠Or maybe he wouldnât. You never thought about what could happen if he should find his memories and remember who he is. He might have loved ones and a family to return toâŠ
âSheâs got a crush on you,â you mentioned to him once you were out of the house. You looked at him, and he seemed unsurprised. âAnd she trusts youâŠâ
âI figured that much,â he smirked, walking towards the main garage around the side of the large house.Â
âDid you mean it?âÂ
âDid I mean what?â He turned to ask you, his features twisted in confusion.Â
You sighed, stopping at the garage door but making no motion to use the lock pad to open it.Â
âWhen you said you were going to come backâŠâ you trailed, scanning your thumb print on the pad so the door would fold up. State of the art technology for the lock, but the same old door from the seventies.Â
It took him longer than you expected to answer the question, but you figured since it held some weight, it was good that he thought it out clearly.Â
âYeah, I meant it.â
You looked to him, the decision he made was worn on his face and it was easy to see he was telling the truth.Â
âGood,â you nodded, walking inside first and grabbing your keys from your pocket. Logan immediately gave you a glance of mischief, and walked in the other direction.Â
âLogan, noâŠâ
âLogan, yes,â he taunted, going over to sit on the motorcycle that belonged to Scott. You werenât going to play this game with him.
âWe are not going all the way to Canada on a bike.â You were trying to be the reasonable one here, but he was so damn stubborn. Two could play that game, you were stubborn, too. âGet in the car.â
âGet on the bike,â he nodded behind him, the open seat looking appealing for only a moment. âI know you want toâŠâ
âNo, I donâtâŠâ you opened the driverâs side door, and climbed in, shutting it behind you⊠but he didnât budge from the damn motorcycle.Â
When he turned it on, the engine roaring to life and revving from the motions of his hand, you closed your eyes for a split second before doing the worst thing you could have possibly done. You climbed out of the car and went to the motorcycle, swinging a leg over and holding onto him with a big huff. He knew you did it for show, not because you were actually upset.Â
âComfy?â He threw a smirk over his shoulder, and you huffed again for emphasis.Â
âNo.â
He just laughed, pulling out of the garage and onto the road.Â
You would admit, the wind in your hair, and the lovely smell of the pine trees lining the streets was wonderful. All the sights on the way to your destination were quite lovely, and though you could see them from your car just the same, it wouldnât feel like this.Â
This feels like flying, almost, with the breeze beneath your wings, and the sounds of nature as you pass through.Â
Logan can almost sense your smile when you drive by a particular area full of color changing aspens, the scenery surrounding you felt almost like a dream, something from out of a movie.Â
He never said anything to taunt you about being right, or made a comment about how much you seemed to be enjoying yourself. It was silent between you both for hours, until the sun began had set, and youâd finally crossed the border into Canada.Â
âWeâre gonna have to stop soon for the night,â he mentioned when youâd pulled off the road to get something to eat. Just a little rest-stop⊠gas stations, fast food, the works. Youâd spotted a sign a few miles back for a motel, but werenât sure where to go in order to get there.Â
âFill up the tank, Iâll go inside and ask about directions,â you told him, swinging your leg off of the bike and walking away.Â
He was certain that this dynamic between the two of you was working well already, and that he didnât need to heed Charleâs words as much as he originally intended. You seemed to go with the flow of things, and were rather easy to get along with⊠and you didnât seem to be super into him like the professor said you would be. You cared about him, sure⊠but he cared about you too, and without crossing any lines.Â
Filling up the bike, he leaned against the metal machinery, his head dozing back and forth from his tired state. It wasnât until you returned, holding a map and a bag of gas station pastries that he was fully aware again.Â
âThe guy marked that motel out for me on the map,â you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to him, the red marker lining the road and the turn off. âItâs two exits down.â
âEasy enough.â He took a look at the marked location for himself, waiting for the gas pump to finish topping off the tank.
âI got you a donut,â you said, handing him a paper bag like your own. Youâd pulled a maple donut from yours, so he was appalled to find that his was not also a maple donut.Â
âChocolate?â His eyebrows raised, only teasing you, but still just slightly butthurt about the donut.Â
âYou donât like chocolate?â You furrowed your eyebrows, talking with your mouth full of the first bite you took.
âDid they not have any other maple glazed?â he nodded to yours, the joking nature still filling his tone.Â
âThis was the last one.â You reasoned. You found it a little funny, but felt a little bad at the same time.Â
He huffed, shaking his head, but then you smiled sweetly, holding out the donut with a single bite taken to him.Â
âIâll trade you,â you offered, knowing that in the end, it was just a donut compared to the grand scheme of things.Â
âThanks,â he muttered gratefully, a sideways smile spreading on his cheeks. Heâll admit, it was a sweet gesture, no matter how small. He handed you the chocolate donut, and took a bite out of the one you gave him. âMaple donuts are for real Canadians.â
âYouâre Canadian?â you asked, a bit of surprise coming from you. You met him in Canada, but it was somehow still a shock to you. He seemed very American when you first met him, and even now.Â
âSâone of the only things I can remember,â he nodded, his demeanor livening up quickly, and all because of a donut.
âHuh,â you stared off, wondering if heâd known Stryker for long before his memory faltered. Clearly heâd been abused by the man, but to what extent, you werenât sure. You have bits and pieces of memories from that era, and most were just feelings of the energy around you.
âYou didnât know?âÂ
âYou didnât tell meâŠâ you trailed, enjoying the chocolate donut, despite maple donuts being better. Him enjoying it was satisfying enough.
âWe should get out of here,â he yawned, crumpling up the paper bag and tossing it into a nearby trash can. âRoad is dark, and Iâm tired.â
âBig, strong, manly⊠but gets tired on a little road trip?â You teased, finishing up the pastry before throwing away the trash and getting back on the bike with him.
âYou try steering this thing all day.â He threw a smirk over his shoulder, revving the engine.Â
âI would, if youâd let me,â you chided, another taunt that you knew wouldnât end in your favor. Heâd never be caught dead on the back of a motorcycle like this with someone else behind the handles.
âNot a chanceâŠâÂ
-
Having checked into the small motel, you ached for a shower, but given that Logan was practically falling asleep already, you let him go first.Â
Maybe it was a mistake, heâd been in there for a while, and you thought maybe all the hot water would be gone by the time it was your turn. You just hoped he hadnât fallen asleep in there, propped against the shower wall.Â
You might just shower tomorrow at this point, unwilling to wait for the water to heat back up.Â
With a sigh, you changed into something a little more comfortable, the pair of sweatpants and sweater that were shoved to the bottom of your giant backpack. It was wrinkled as all hell from the journey, but you knew that didnât matter. It was cozy, and warm, and being in Canada as late fall was setting in meant you needed to be as warm as possible.Â
You curled up on the queen bed closest to the heater with your book, which youâd deemed necessity enough to bring on this escapade to another country.
When Logan finally emerged, heâd adorned a pair of flannel pants, and a gray t-shirt, which was admittedly a bit small for him. The fabric hugged his body a bit tighter than he was used to, but good lord almighty⊠this man looked stunning.Â
The dim light from the bathroom, mixed with the warm glow from your bedside lamp while you read, it made him look like he glistened. The stray water drops on his face and neck, and the quickly curling upwards strands of his damp hair. You never guessed that his hair just did that naturally. You found yourself staring a little too long, and as soon as Logan picked up on it, dropping the towel he used to dry his hair, he chanced a look in your direction. Quickly your eyes found the pages of your book again, and you kept a straight face, hoping nothing would be said about it.
âThat a good book?â he smirked, knowing that you could barely even focus on it a second ago.Â
âMhm,â you zoned in on the words, reading them over and over, but none of what they mean stuck in your head. You could only think about what you just saw, and what you still could see if only you turned your gaze.Â
âIt looks old,â he commented on the bent pages and old fabric cover. It looked worn and well loved.Â
âIt is old. I got it on the day it was released in nineteen fifty-three.â
He whistled lowly, his eyebrows raising in surprise. âYou read it a lot?â
âOnce a year,â you mumbled, still acting engrossed with the page youâd been stuck on since he entered the room. âItâs my favorite book.â
âWhatâs it about?â He sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning forward and looking at you tiredly. He was exhausted, wasnât he? Why didnât he just say goodnight and go to bed?
âThe future⊠the way the author thinks our societies will begin to crumble,â you explained, turning towards him and letting the book fall on your chest, pages still open. âBooks will be outlawed, and a group called the firemen will be required to burn any that are found.â
âSounds interesting⊠also sounds a little miserable. Whyâs it your favorite?â He grinned, throwing his sheets and blankets up and lying beneath them, keeping his head propped up on his hand so he wouldnât fall asleep yet. The warm glow of your bedside lamp cast him in such a pretty glowâŠ
âI think it feels very real to me, in a wayâŠâ
âYou think books are gonna be outlawed?â He laughed slightly, clearly finding himself misunderstanding your meaning.Â
âNo, but with the way things are playing out, it feels like a projection of whatâs to come. Of course, they will make the enemies of the future out to be mutants, not books.â
âAnd these⊠firemen,â he put finger quotes around the word, trying to be hypothetical about the situation. âYou think there will be groups like that?âÂ
âMutant hunters? Absolutely⊠Theyâre already out there, just look at what happened to us,â you sighed, the facts of the matter weighing you down, even though it had been a pleasant conversation. You enjoyed talking about your favorite book, but everyone in the mansion had already heard about it a thousand times. It was refreshing to get a new audience to share thoughts with.Â
âI never thought about it that wayâŠâ he furrowed his brow, his eyes drooping with every second passed. He had to be fighting sleep for his life.Â
âMutants are supposed to be the future⊠but weâll never see that future if we have to battle extinction.âÂ
He didnât reply, his mind elsewhere. You watched him carefully, his face looking deep in thought. You returned to your book by the time he finally spoke up again.Â
âYouâll have to let me borrow that book sometime,â he rolled over as he said it, so when you glanced over at him, his back was facing you. âGânight, Alice.â
âNight, LoganâŠâ
-
In the morning, you woke up later than usual, no alarm clock or imminent threat looming to pull you from your slumber. It was nice, being able to wake up naturally for the first time in years. You felt so well rested that you nearly forgot where you were. The chill air of the morning surrounded you just outside of the thick blankets and sheets you were under, but it wasnât unpleasant, it was refreshing.Â
When you opened your eyes, you began to recall everything slowly. Sitting up, you find that Logan isnât in the bed across from you, or in the room at all. You furrow your brow and stand to your feet, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes when a note catches your eye.Â
Placed on a tiny table by the janky minifridge, thereâs a paper bag and a torn off napkin with some words scribbled on it.Â
Be back soon⊠got you something.
Inside the paper bag was a maple donut. It looked really good, too. Much better than the fifty-cent one youâd traded to him the night before.Â
You smiled and took a bite, eating while going about your morning routine, wanting to shower and get ready to leave the motel. You werenât sure what Logan was up to, but with him being Canadian and all, youâre sure heâs just happy to be back.Â
He knocked on the door, the latch lock seeming to have been flipped over when he left.Â
You dropped your change of clothes back onto your bed, running over to the door and letting him in. He seemed to have a relaxed grin on his face, and looking at his clothing, there was a light sheen of icy water coating his leather jacket.Â
âCâmere,â he pulled you along, completely barefoot and still in your pajamas.Â
Once outside, you saw that the grounds were covered with just a small dusting of snow. It wasnât thick, or freezing, but it was still falling around you, and you suddenly didnât mind getting dragged away from the warm room.Â
âItâs snowing already?â You asked in confusion, as if he had the answer.Â
âItâs Canada, what did you expect?âÂ
You just continued to enjoy the pretty sights around you, then realized your feet were still bare and you were likely going to make yourself sick if you didnât go back inside.Â
âLet me go shower and we can check out,â you muttered, looking at him and finding he was just as captured by the beauty of a quickly approaching winter wonderland.Â
âIâll make sure the bike is thawed out,â he joked, nodding to you.Â
After you went back inside, he walked around to the front to where the bike was parked in the covered area. It wasnât too cold, but it would still need some time for the metal to heat up. Heâd been able to start the motor not too long after, and pulled it around the side of the motel to be closer to where you had stayed.Â
He should have knocked before going inside, and he regrets not doing so, but upon opening the door to you half dressed, having yet to pull up your jeans, he seems to be frozen in place. You donât notice him at first, and with the second glance he gets, he sees all the scars littered over your legs and hips. He remembers the first night when youâd put all the pieces together, knowing youâd met him before. You knew about his past, and he got a peek into yours. You'd told him a man named Stryker gave you those scars.
âShit, LoganâŠâ You trailed, yanking up your jeans faster and hopping your feet to speed up the process. When you noticed heâd just been standing there you panicked, and nearly fell down trying to get your pants up. âDonât you knock?â
âIâm sorry,â he blinked himself out of it, furrowing his brow and dripping his eyes. He had to physically shake himself from the trance. âI didnât mean to-â
âItâs fine,â you stopped him, grabbing your things and packing them away, sliding your backpack on and walking past him. Your hair was still wet from your shower, but you didnât want to stay inside and let the moment linger any longer. âLetâs get out of here, we still have a long way to drive.â
-
The hike through the fresh snow had been a little uncomfortable, mostly happening in silence. Since this morning, youâd barely spoken a word to him. Youâd ridden miles and miles on the back of the bike without talking. Usually he was the silent type himself, but heâd felt bad for what happened, even after apologizing, so he decided it rested on his shoulders to break the quiet streak.
âIâve been thinking⊠those scars,â he tried to broach the subject lightly, looking at you with a careful eye. âYouâd said you were bulletproof, and fireproof. I had it in my head that you were impenetrable.â
âI am,â you gave him a flat stare, nodding your head a little.
âThen how were they able to cut you up?âÂ
Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording.Â
âSame way you were able to,â you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. âAdamantium.â
âAdamantium? Youâre kidding,â he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. Heâs the only one who can touch you, but heâs also the only one who can hurt you. âHowâd they figure that out?â
You kept on with your trek through the forest, the explanation rolling around in your head before you told him aloud.
âTheyâd been trying to take me apart for years, and all Iâd do is rot in a cell⊠then they found a mutant called Lava, and she was the only person who could melt the adamantium theyâd discovered. I guess they ran out of options with me⊠so,â you sighed, raising your eyebrows and trying to keep composure while talking about it. Opening up to him did little to help his own memory, but you did so anyway. Because he asked. âThey coated a surgical set in adamantium to see what would happen⊠and it worked. They started taking parts of me wherever I could spare them.â
He had come to a slow stop, but you hadnât noticed, continuing through the forest on your own, trying to make it to the edge of the lake before it got too dark. You at least wanted to pinpoint the location for tomorrowâs journey through the past.Â
You turned around to see him standing dead still, a look on his face the likes of which you couldnât decipher⊠What was he thinking behind those pretty eyes?Â
âLogan, you okay?âÂ
He blinked out of his thoughts. You wondered if maybe he was remembering something and youâd stopped him.Â
âYeah, I just,â he shook his head and caught up with you, the solemn look not leaving his face. âIâm sorry you had to go through that.â
You shrugged, keeping in stride with him, not falling behind or going ahead this time. The conversation helped ease the awkwardness that came before in the silence. âItâs alright. It was a while ago⊠besides, you were the one who saved me, you donât need to be the one apologizing.â
The hike kept on in a much more comfortable silence. The sun would be going down soon, and you didnât want to spend the night out in the woods, especially when it had been starting to snow today.Â
When you came across the small stream, leading to the edge of the lake, you picked up speed.Â
âShould be right up here,â you told him, leading the way through the mucky ground, moist with melted snow and mud.Â
Youâd seen it before he did. You stopped in your tracks the second you looked across.Â
He caught up, taking a look for himself, but quickly growing concerned with howtense and unmoving you were. Your expression had changed from the relaxed one it had been wearing to a firm yet frightened stare. It was eerily quiet, and you couldnât move your feet. Your hands balled into fists and one at a time, the memories of this place came rushing back. Just seeing the base, abandoned and covered in rust, was enough to make you want to cry. You felt all the loneliness, all the pain, and all the lost hope that used to plague you in this very place.
âYou okay, kid?â Logan came closer, and you nodded, putting on a brave face and turning to him with a forced look of calmness.Â
âYeah, Iâm fine,â you even managed a stiff smile, but you refused to turn back towards the base, letting your shoulder have the pleasure of the view instead. âItâs getting dark, though.â
âYeah,â he nodded, watching as you were quickly back on the path you came from, trying to keep the composure that you werenât sure would hold. âAlright.â
He trailed on after you, and just before the sun was all the way below the mountains, youâd managed to get back to the road. The bike was cold again, but thankfully it started without a problem.Â
Heâd tried too hard to get to a comfortable place with you, but again he felt back at square one, sitting in awkward silence like he did this morning. Your hold on him wasnât as tight as usual, and you didnât seem to care how unsteady it was with every turn of the bike.Â
You rode down the street about ten miles or so before coming across a small fishing town, with restaurants, bars, neighborhood markets, and even a cozy little motel. Much better looking than the one youâd stayed in the night previous.
Heâd been the one to get checked in tonight, getting everything settled and making sure you were comfortable. You still werenât in a chatty mood, but youâd loosened up just enough to have civil conversation, and answer the questions he would ask you.Â
He let you take the first shower tonight, and you were out in only a few minutes, racing to get tucked into bed as quickly as possible.Â
He took his time, knowing you were probably just going through the motions of being here, and he needed to let you experience it at your own pace. After all, you remember this place, and he doesnât. The only thing he recalls are the torturous nightmares that plague his sleep. That alone tells him all he needs to know about the horrors and chaos this place caused.
Heâs surprised to find you still awake when he gets out of the shower, towel around his hips and water running over his body. He thought youâd be asleep, so out of habit he didnât bring his clothes in with him to change.Â
He sees youâre reading your book, the one about the future. Youâre so engrossed in it, your eyes never leaving the pages. He wonders if itâs a coping tool, a comfort item of sorts. Heâd never thought of a book as a security blanket before, being written words on paper.
He didnât say anything yet, unwilling to interrupt how calm you seemed to be now. Just grabbed his clothes and went back to the bathroom.Â
Maybe going back there tomorrow isnât a good idea. He appreciates the openness of your heart to do such a favor for him, but he doesn't want to cause you distress for his own gain. Youâve shown him where it is. He knows how to find it on his own, now. If he can convince you to stay back here, heâll go on his own, find the answers himself.Â
When he emerges the second time, youâve laid your book down on the bedside table, placing a bookmark between the worn pages before settling yourself. He sits down on the edge of his own bed, and makes eye contact. You donât break it first, but you remain silent. A man of few words, but he seemed to be the more chatty one today.
âI didnât say anything before, but you seemed a little, uh⊠scared, earlier.â
You didnât change the expression you wore, but somehow he could feel the shift in your emotions. He just wanted to ask and see if this was too much for you.
âI wasnât scared, just remembered some stuff is all,â You sighed out, laying down and still looking over at him here and there, but not willing to speak more than what youâd said.
âYou wanna talk about it?âÂ
It was an open offer, but he already knew the answer. For someone who seemed so extroverted and talkative when he met you, youâd somehow turned into a reserved and silent little girl since this morning.
âNoâŠâ You trailed, the word coming out soft and gentle.
âOkay,â he nodded, getting comfortable before rolling over and calling out to you as you turned out the light. âGoodnightâŠâ
âNight, Logan.â
-
In the morning, you were already awake, clinging to your knees as you focused very hard on looking out the window by your bed. When he looked at the clock and read six, he figured you must not have slept well. He barely slept most of the time. His regeneration made it easy to stay awake days at a time, and he only needed a few hours to function. Not to mention he was often plagued with nightmares. He hasnât had them the past few nights, which he finds strange, but at the same time, he isnât complaining whatsoever.Â
He swung his legs out of bed when he saw you were unmoving, just like yesterday at the lake.Â
âHey,â he placed a hand at your shoulder, softly breaking you from your endless stare. âYou doinâ alright?âÂ
âYeah, I just woke up a little early.â
Your little smile was forced, and he could tell, but didnât say anything to negate your response. He just sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, looking outside the window where your gaze lingered. There was nothing specific to look at, just a view of the parking lot, and a few trees framed a small log cabin bar next door.Â
âI uh⊠I had an idea last nightâŠâ he trailed, gaining your attention as you turned to him. âWhat if we took a few days.â
âWhat do you mean?â you furrowed your brows, tilting your head as you laid it on your curled up knees.Â
âI mean, what if we donât go to the base right away?â he suggested with a shrug. It had been a good idea in his head, to straggle behind a few days, and make the journey through the past when you were more settled. âI could tell the way it got to you last night, after you saw it.â
âLogan, Iâm fine. Promise,â you nodded your head as if to assure yourself, but even as you were doing it you knew it didnât look convincing.Â
âYou werenât fine,â he corrected, unafraid to voice his concerns by now. âLook, you brought me here, and Iâm really grateful⊠but you were uncomfortable to even look at that place, and I could see that.â
You huffed out a sigh, shaking your head and trying to seem like there was no reason for concern. You didnât want him to back out after coming all this way just on your account. This was for him, not for you.Â
âIâll be okay,â you put on a more stern face, grabbing his hand. The gesture was more for your own comfort rather than his, but even still, you meant what you said. âIâd spent a long time trying to forget that place, and last night everything just sort of came back⊠but as long as youâre there, Iâll be okay.â
He listened constantly, the warmth of your touch was always so energizing to him. It made him feel like he was somehow stronger and charged with determination. He figured it had something to do with your mutation, and his ability to survive it. Not just survive, but thrive on it.
âYou saved me from Stryker, Logan,â you let your legs fall from their curled position, scooting just a bit closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours, and his hand still lingered around the skin of your own. âI feel safe when Iâm with you.â
His chest tightened when he heard those words. Heâd realized only now what the professor's words meant a few mornings ago. He recalls exactly how they were said, and why.Â
Donât hurt her, Logan.Â
It wasnât just about the ability to touch, which he would admit was definitely a struggle in itself when heâd thought about how long youâve been alive, with no one to cling to. Aside from the skin to skin contact, you trusted him. You felt safe in his presence. Most of all, you were doing all of this for him without asking anything in return, and he figured you didnât even care if you got anything out of it in the long run.Â
Charles didnât want Logan to fall all over you in immediate love and commitment. He just wanted him to take care of you, attend to you and make sure you werenât without comfort, especially in this terrible place you were headed.Â
Her pain will become your own.Â
It wasnât about you becoming vengeful if you got hurt, and it wasnât about your loved ones making him pay for his actions. He understood that now, too. It was about the guilt and shame he would feel for not having been there to help you should anything happen. Should this very situation happen. He wonât let you go it alone.Â
âCâmere,â he sat further back, raising his other arm and beckoning you to sit closer with him.Â
You didnât even hesitate to climb under his wing so to speak, and lean against him as heâd gestured for you to do. He wrapped that arm around you, his head resting over top of your soft and slightly unruly morning hair. His other hand stayed in yours, unbudging for the time you sat there.Â
At one point youâd felt so calm you closed your eyes, just absorbing his energy and feeling the comfort from it. It was a rough and hard facade at first, but his energy held layers, and the more you relaxed into him, the better you could feel what lies beneath. You could feel his gentleness, and his soft spirit, willing him to go wherever the wind blows. You could feel the slight sadness and confusion that he seemed to internalize every day. Probably from lacking his past, the memories and the people he used to have before Stryker messed him up.Â
âI think taking a few days doesnât sound so bad, you know?â You said quietly, just loud enough to reach his ears.Â
âYeah?â he smiled, looking down at you when you nodded. Your expression was happier than it had been before, the traces of fear were gone from your eyes. âItâll be fun. Iâll show you a good time, then maybe you can change your mind about Canada.â
âUnlikely,â you laughed softly, your own smile taking over as you met his eyes. âYouâre not so bad, for a Canadian, though.â
âIâll take what I can get.â
Heâd stuck to his word.Â
Heâd shown you a good time around the small town, though he claims heâs never been there before. All the small business families were very kind and embracing, although it got to a point where talking to them was becoming detrimental to the length of your trip. Everywhere you went into, whether it be a shop, a small town bakery, or even an entertainment hub, there were people recommending things to do and see. And of course, you were not one to say no to an Adventure.Â
On the back of the motorcycle, youâd gone practically all over the town, meeting people, and always being introduced the same way by Logan.Â
âIâm Canadian, sheâs not⊠She doesnât like it here much, I wanna change her mind.â
You laughed almost every time at the way the people would react, but would nod gleefully when they made suggestions on activities. You found yourself liking Canada, but only because Logan was here. He was making you laugh, and smile wider than you think you ever have. Not even three days into this endeavor, and already youâve decided youâre falling for him.Â
You donât know how deeply he reciprocates those feelings, because heâs a flirt with nearly everyone⊠but the soft and gentle moments, like this morning, lead you to believe thereâs something else there. Some part of him that is drawn to you like you are to him.Â
His lingering touch on the small of your back when he opens the door and guides you through, or the arm slung around your shoulder to steer you in a different direction when something interesting catches his eye. Even the way he nonchalantly fixes your hair when heâs talking to you and the wind blows it out of place. Itâs all so casual in the way it happens, and yet, it means everything to someone like you. Someone who has lived for two centuries without the normalcy of touch and comfort from another person.Â
You try not to focus too much on what it means, and decide to live in the moment to enjoy each time those little touches happen.Â
By the end of the day, you think maybe heâs taking you back to the âCozy Pine Tree Innâ that you were rooming at⊠but instead he pulls into the parking lot across the sidewalk.Â
The half-working neon sign over the porch read âJackalope Neighborhood Pubâ and when you looked inside, there must have been about ten people total, including the two bartenders behind the counter.Â
It wasnât a huge place to begin with, and the population of the town was probably less than the amount of students you had each week, but it was cozy, and you appreciated the warmth of it all, even though it was brutally cold.Â
âGo on inside, I gotta put this under that covering in case it snows,â he encouraged, letting you hop off with a spring in your step.Â
The inside was just as you thought it would be. Cozy, warm, dimly lit. The walls were covered in old pictures and heads of various hunted animals from up in the mountains. Sitting down at the bar, you shed your jacket and let it hang on the back of your low-back stool, keeping your gloves on for safety.
âHi there, pretty darlin,â a man came up beside you, a smile on his face and a drunken twinkle in his eye.Â
âHi,â you smiled back kindly, nodding to him.
âNever seen you here before, I guess youâre new,â he came a bit closer, and even though he didnât try anything yet, it made you nervous when people get this close. Your skin is covered, but it still makes you uneasy.
âIâm just visiting, actually⊠I live in New York.â
No, you didnât owe him an explanation, but you felt the only way to keep him at bay would be to answer his curiosities as quickly as you could, not giving him room to think about anything else.Â
âWhy donât I buy you a drink? A pretty girl in a place like this needs a drink.â
âIâm okay, but thank you. Iâm actually here with someone, heâll be back in a second,â you spoke quicker when the man took another step beside you, leaning up against the bar now and reaching for your hand.Â
âAwe, câmon⊠mâsure your buddy wonât mind,â he tried to grab at your forearm in a teasing manner, but you pulled your hands from the counter, pulling your sleeves down to cover the skin of your wrist that your gloves didnât quite shield.
âDonât touch me,â you rushed out, a panic beginning to pour over your words. âYou could get hurt.â
âI could get hurt, huh? You're gonna hurt me, pretty thing?â
âYou donât understand,â you breathed shallow, trying to keep calm to no avail. âPlease, just leave me alone.â
âBaby, I think you want me to stay right here,â he again got closer, trying to cage you in by bringing his arms on both sides of you and trapping your stool in front of him.Â
Simply trying to get out of the situation without causing a scene, you leaned forward against the bar, pushing at one arm to try and sneak out⊠but as it turns out, you didnât even have to.
Logan pulled the man away by his neck, looking him face to face and giving a harsh but somehow unbothered stare. This man was of no real threat to him, clearly.
âLeave my girl aloneâŠâ he let out calmly, though it was filled with threat. You knew heâd only added the possession for effective purposes, but you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the sound of it.Â
The man didnât even speak another word, rushing off to the other side of the bar. He wasnât a small man by any means, but Logan, standing at six foot two, with a strong build and a deep temperament was sure to scare anyone off.Â
Logan sat down at the bar next to you, ordering a beer for himself, and a whiskey for you. He owed you some payback Jack Danielâs, if he remembers correctly.Â
âThanks,â you threw him a smile and a nod, which he returned.Â
âGuyâs a creep,â he let out, his brows raised and an eager look on his face when the beer bottle was set in front of him. âHope he didnât ruin Canada for you.â
You laughed for what had to be the hundredth time today, shaking your head.Â
âOf course, not. The only thing that could ruin it is what we actually came here to do,â you joked, sipping on your drink as soon as it was put in front of you.Â
There was a beat of silence, before a thought that popped into Loganâs mind turned into a question.Â
âSo, how long have you been at the school?âÂ
You gave him a glance, tilting your head and trying to think of an answer that made sense.
âWell that depends, do you mean as it is today? Or when it first started?â You found yourself turning towards him more instead of facing the bar.
âUh, all of it?âÂ
He took another swig and chuckled at the strangeness of your insistence for elaboration. It was a long and complicated story, but you had to find a simple and short way to explain it.
âCharles found me by cerebro a long time ago, when I was in New York City studying for my history degree,â you took another drink, eyes watching the ice swirl around the bottom of the glass as you tipped it in different directions. âHe snatched me up, and a bunch of other mutants, and we saved the world⊠Which I guess is a typical Tuesday now, but back then it was a big deal for us. The professor had opened the school, but I left right after some of the others did..â
âYou left? Why?â His confusion stemmed from what heâs seen. That place was your home, and those people were your family. He doesnât know why any mutant would want to leave the walls of that mansion, where it was safe.
You shrugged, a bit hesitant to even try and remember what the real reasoning was. âIt was the sixties, everyone wanted their own path of freedom. That was the thing back then, wasn't it? Free love, free drugs, free spirits.â
He raised a brow, looking at you with a bit of surprise, which faded just as fast.Â
âI keep forgetting how old you are,â he smirked, huffing a small laugh and shaking his head. âIf I didnât know any better Iâd say you were barely an adult.â
You often thought about that. What you would have looked like if youâd been able to grow older. Would your face have thinned out from its girlish fullness? Would you have formed little crows feet at the corners of your eyes? Would you even resemble the same person youâve looked in the mirror to see for all these years?
âIf you want to be technical, Iâm physically twenty.â
âAwe, just a baby,â he teased, giving you a slight elbow to the arm. âSo is that part of your mutation, then?âÂ
âNo, actually,â you began, throwing back the rest of your drink before explaining further. âThe way my body works is like anyone elseâs⊠I have to have energy and sustenance to survive, all that nonsenseâŠâ
Heâd been very interested to find out about you, since heâd yet to find anything out about himself. Especially since heâd figured your mutation was the reason for your long life span.Â
âBut since Iâm made up of different kinds of energy, matter, antimatter, and a third substance unknown to science yet, I can draw sustenance from things other than food and rest.â
âLike what?âÂ
You took your little green glove off one hand, and reached for his forearm, which he was currently leaning on against the bar. You focused on doing what youâd done the night that Rogue had injured him, forcing energy into him instead of taking it.Â
âYou feel that?âÂ
His eyes got a bit wider, and he watched your hand, there was just the slightest bit of an iridescent glow around his skin where you touched him. It was vague and unnoticeable if you werenât really looking, and he was. âYeahâŠâ
âItâs called energy transference. I absorb energy from everything around me, and I can use it to create things⊠shields, small detonations, and as I recently found out with you, the ability to restore energy from depletion,â you listed, trying to get to the point, but of course, he didnât understand how it was all connected.Â
âAnd what, it keeps you from aging?â he asked, like it didnât make any sense, and to be fair, you didnât really lead with the cause, so you understood his confusion.Â
âNot really, noâŠâ you thought back to the day it all happened, so many years ago and yet youâll never forget it. âWhen I absorb energy, it sustains me⊠but when I turned twenty, I was struck by lightning.â
He let out a low whistle, thinking to himself that it was a wild turn of events in your background that he wasnât expecting.Â
âThe professor thinks it caused a power surge in my anatomy. Being able to absorb the strike instead of it killing me, my cells were able to store that energy and prevent me from aging.âÂ
He understood now, blinking a few times as the process settled into his mind. He wonders what else your powers can do, but doesnât want to keep pushing you on it.Â
âHuh,â he looked to the bar for a minute, eyes going over the spot on his arm that still held just the slightest glow of energy without being easily seen. âI donât really age all that much eitherâŠâ
âI heard,â you replied, giving him a once over. He was probably one of the most beautiful men youâd ever come across, and knowing that his aging process was also stunted was nearly a blessing in your eyes.Â
âI still do, just real slow,â he explained, running a hand through his hair, the kitty ears becoming more prominent when he did. âGuessing by how little Iâve changed in the last fifteen years, I might be close to your age. Maybe a little younger⊠I just donât remember.â
His tone falls into a solemness in the end, and you frown at the change in his energy. Heâd been having a good time until now, when he started to think about his past, but there was nothing to find. You again reached out for him, taking his hand like youâd grown accustomed to in the past few days. Touching him would never become dull, or feel any less important. You suspected that years from now you would still feel the same tingly and warm sensation from being able to meet his skin to yours.
âYou will,â you promised. Even if it takes you a lifetime, youâll help him find himself. His past, and who he was.Â
-
The next day was Sunday, and it went on like the day before⊠but one thing was different. Two things, technically.Â
One, Logan held your hand whenever there was a long distance of walking to be done. Two, his funny and somewhat playful introductions from the day before had been given a small twist. Instead of just saying, âIâm Canadian, sheâs not,â there was an added layer of possession. âIâm Canadian, my girl isnât.â
After last night in the bar, something was different. You couldnât put your finger on what exactly made him switch up his actions around you, and towards you, but it wasnât in your direct focus. You were much too busy enjoying the sudden change, and the casualness in which it was implemented.Â
You wondered if you should ask him about it, but every time you gained an opportunity to do so, you lost the courage. Maybe he was just doing it because it felt normal to be this way with a traveling companion? Maybe he was just putting up a front for the townspeople, so he didnât have to try so hard to explain the situation between the two of you.Â
Heâd been so gentle, so domesticated, it felt like heâd grown fully comfortable with you. Youâd been the same with him, squeezing his hand whenever he grabbed yours.Â
His touch, his words, and more importantly, the look in his eyes whenever he caught you staring⊠It all led you to believe there was something lurking, just waiting to be let out.Â
When youâd returned to the motel that night, giggling about the state of his hair after a tree branch full of snow collapsed on him, heâd rolled his eyes, giving you a playful shove into your own bed while he mumbled about ârinsing the pine needles offâ of himself.Â
âIâm gonna go down to the Lobby, I wanna call Ororo,â you said, the wide smile still on your face.Â
He nodded, not even waiting for you to leave before he started stripping down his clothes. His jacket first, then his flannel. When he was left in the gray beater he wore beneath it all, he stopped for a moment, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you with a smirk. He knew youâd been watching, and he was too big of a tease to tell you to look away, or to remove himself to the bathroom.Â
He turned back around, and pulled the thin fabric over his head, throwing it to his pile by the duffel bag.Â
He didnât need to look at you again to know he would catch you staring. He just went about his business as if you werenât there. Asshole.Â
You almost couldnât breathe. The only person on this entire planet that can touch you, and you got lucky enough that it was Logan. This man was strongly built, and chiseled as if from marble stone. He wasnât overly muscular or too big, but just enough that you swore God sent him down from the heavens to roam about the earth as his most glorious creation. The way his back muscles tensed when he reached into his bag for a change of clothes, or the way his abs contracted when he stood back upright, it made your hands fidget. You wanted to stand before him and do the one thing you couldnât do to anyone else. You wanted to touch his gorgeous, warm toned skin.Â
When he was about to head to the bathroom, he finally gave you a glance, his smirk even stronger when he read your expression.Â
âYou gonna go call her or not?âÂ
âRight,â you blinked, standing up and rushing around to grab your jacket and gloves.Â
Youâd rushed down to the lobby as fast as your feet could carry you, the stiff breeze doing nothing to quench your excitement. You loaded two quarters into the payphone in the lobbyâs hallway, facing away from the stench of the crappy bathrooms nearby.Â
You tapped your leg nervously as you told the operator the correct information and waited for Storm to answer. It wasnât too late, everyone should still be awake.Â
The dial went until the second to last before she picked up.Â
âHello?â Her voice sounded like music to your ears.Â
âRo, itâs me,â you said as gently as you could, having to repress your energy. âI just wanted to check inâŠâ
âCheck in? Everything is normal here⊠what about you, have you found the base yet? Howâs Logan?âÂ
Her rushed questions came out when she realized who she was speaking to. Sheâd waited days for this call, and honestly, you werenât one to disappoint.Â
âWeâve located it, yeah. Weâre hiking out there tomorrow,â you explained, leaving out the part where you took a two day joyride through a small Canadian town with the man youâve deemed is your favorite Canadian. âAnd Loganâs good. Weâve been having a great time so far.â
âA great time, huh? So I was right to be afraid that Iâd never see you againâŠâ she trailed, only partly joking. In truth, she wants you to be happy, but she also wants you to come home.Â
âOh relax, weâll be back before you know it.â
You heard a muffled yelling, like sheâd covered the phone to reprimand some students, before she was back on the line.Â
âWell, tell me everything, whatâs Canada like? Is it as bad as you remember?â She teased, figuring by the sound of your voice and the smile she could practically hear coming through the phone, that your opinion had been swayed.Â
âCanada itself is fine, but Logan is something else entirely,â you raised a brow, leaning into the phone panel on the wall and twisting the cord in your fingers like a love-struck schoolgirl. âDid you know he was Canadian?â
âI thought he might be, wasn't sure.â
âWell, I take back hating Canada, heâs actually made me like itâŠâ you trailed, fighting yet another wide smile from only thoughts of today. âHeâs made me like him⊠a lot.â
âBaby, itâs only been four days,â she laughed on the other end. You could tell she was debating knocking sense into you, or asking for details. The latter won in the end. âSo did he kiss you, or what?âÂ
âNo, he hasnât kissed me,â you said with a sigh, wishing the statement hadnât been true. âBut heâs been so⊠different. He holds my hand, he hugs me when Iâm cold⊠heâs been introducing me to everyone we talk to as âhis girlâ.âÂ
âSo what Iâm hearing is, I need to be making wedding preparations for when you get back?â She huffed out another laugh, hand on her hip as she leaned into a wall in the mansion. She knew this was going to happen. You got attached to people very easily, but Logan was an entirely different can of worms. He could touch you, he could hold you, and he could be with you in ways no one else would ever be able to. That made him your ideal attachment. If you believed in soulmates, youâd say he was yours. Uniquely created with a mutation that matched your own in the opposite form.Â
âSee, you think thatâs funny,â you laughed along with her through the phone, titling your head and speaking with confidence. âBut Iâm absolutely gonna marry him someday.â
She rolled her eyes, and you could almost hear it through the phone. âAs crazy as you sound, I believe you⊠but give it more than four days to be sure, yeah?â
âFine⊠Iâll give it till the end of the trip,â you taunted. You knew it was crazy to be making these bets now, but you were just so certain that this man would be your endgame. He was the only one who could be⊠right?Â
âThatâs all I can ask for from you⊠Just be safe, and tell him I said hi, okay?â She quickly tried to get off the phone, and you could hear the rowdy children making a ruckus in the background of where she was.Â
âI will⊠tell everyone there that I miss them, and Iâll be back soon.â
âWill do, bye babyâŠâ she rushed out her goodbye before the line went dead.Â
You smiled, mumbling a small âbyeâ under your breath as you hung up the phone and headed back for the room.Â
The room was a bit steamy when you first walked in, with the bathroom door having been left open to air out. Logan was reclined in the bed furthest to the wall, nothing but flannel bottoms on while he was kicked back and relaxed. He had one arm behind his head, and his other perched at his side to hold up a book in his hand. Your book⊠the one youâd finished last night.Â
âHey,â he smiled at you as you walked through the door. âSorry I didnât ask, it looks interesting.â
You furrowed your brow with your own surprised smile, shaking your head. âNo, itâs okay⊠I think youâll like it.â
âSo far I do⊠I promise Iâll be careful with it, I know itâs old,â he defended yet again, even though you would give him that precious copy if it made him happy.Â
âItâs fine, whatâs mine is yours,â you kept on, laying your coat on the back of a chair for the night. âBesides, you canât do anymore damage to it that I havenât already done.â
âI noticed you dogear the pagesâŠâ he raised a brow in your direction, as if accusing you of something.Â
âI know, itâs terribleâŠâ you trailed, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him for a moment. He went back to the book, completely engrossed in what was probably still the first chapter. âWhat part are you on?âÂ
âBurn âem to ashes, then burn the ashes,â he remarked, and you nodded. He seemed to be pretty hooked on only the first few pages. âYou were right, yâknow? About comparinâ this kinda future to ours. Itâs nasty stuffâŠâ
âIt only gets worse, keep reading.â
You got up, grabbing your clothes and heading for a shower. He had been considerate enough to save plenty of hot water for you.
-
The weekend was over, and unfortunately it was time to go where this entire journey was meant to lead. Strykerâs base.Â
The ride to the bridge was silent, but the second you arrived, Logan turned to you with a look of sincerity.Â
âLook, I know that youâre doing this for me,â he began, bringing a hand to your arm in the most gentle way possible. âBut if you start feelinâ like you did the other day⊠I have no problem going in on my own, alright?â
âIâll be okay, Logan. Youâre here with me,â you reminded him, placing your hand over his and giving it a squeeze. âLetâs goâŠâ
He nodded, letting you take the lead, because as was made clear before the trip even began, you were the one who remembered this place, and he was the one trying to regain those memories.Â
âWhen did you come here?â He asked, and it was an innocent question except for the implications.
âI didn't come here, I was taken. I'd just passed the bar exam back in New York, and I was gonna be a lawyer for a while, but Stryker got to me first,â You explained, not taking offense to his wording. Youâd known he was a little brash with the things he said, but he could also be gentle and sweet.
âHow long were you here?â His voice softened this time.
âAbout six years, got here near the start of the program, lived to the end of it.â
âAnd what about me?â Heâd begun walking side by wide with you, not straggling behind like before. His curiosity wasnât the only reason for his questioning, but it was a factor. He mostly just wanted to keep you distracted from looming amongst your own thoughts in silence, getting closer and closer to the base.Â
âYou came towards the end, but he was planning to have you for years. That mutant I told you about, the one who melted the adamantium? They had her powering the machine long before you even came to the island.â
Your explanation caught him off guard a bit. When heâd asked if you came here, you said you were taken, but now you told him he had come⊠meaning he made the decision to do it.
âAnd I⊠came willingly?â He titled his head with furrowed brows, unsure why anyone would want to come to this place, if it was as bad as you say.
âFrom what I understand, you did at first. I think you ran away when you knew of Stryker's plans,â You reasoned, not completely remembering everything. Not that you were even apart of those dealings in the first place.
âDid I meet you then?â
You smiled and shook your head. Youâd wished youâd been able to catch a glimpse of him the first time, what heâd been like before Stryker tortured him and turned him into a piece of metal.
âNo, I never met you the first time. But I could feel you,â you tried your best to describe, nearly failing for how little you could actually say instead of showing him.
He seemed to understand it enough, remembering the way your powers work. He came to a halt beside you, giving you a look and asking the next question. âHow did I feel?â
You stopped, too. You looked at his eyes now, and they seemed so full of something you couldnât explain, but couldnât look away from, either.
âSad⊠Angry.â
âAnd now?â He asked, a serene expression on his features when he was looking at you.
âYouâre still tense, but your emotions are softer, calmer.â You raised a hand to his face, trailing slightly over the facial hair that had slightly grown out the last few days. It suited him, you thought.
After a few moments, you felt a shiver run down your spine from the cold, and snapped out of your daze, continuing on the path ahead, and leading him through an old abandoned tunnel. This tunnel was not full of bad memories, but a rather fond one. The day you had escaped, you followed Scott through this tunnel to meet the Professor on the other side.
He seemed to be taking everything in, noting every intricate detail of the place to try and place it. Nothing sprung from the back of his mind, so he doesnât know if anything significant enough happened here that he might have a cognitive reset, but he keeps trying, going through each stretch of the base like something might pop up.
You froze still when you got to the edge of the cell block. The cages were just as heâd left them, completely and utterly destroyed by his claws.Â
âThis is it, huh?â He stood still, too. The weight of the area was easy to feel, and though he didnât know why, he could almost sense the years of heaviness that was caused here. It was haunting.
âThis is it,â you huffed, taking a step forward and treating it like you would any other place you visited. Itâs just bricks and concrete and steel, itâs not like it should affect you this way. âThe cell on the end is mine, the one three or four down was Scottâs.â
There were motion sensors everywhere. Long since forgotten about, and none were activated, but he could also see the security measures, and some of the poking and prodigy tools they must have used just scattered about. The leftover scenery of a hasty escape, by both the mutants and the inhabitants of this place.
âHow did you even survive this?â He asked, the weight settling in on his shoulders even more, pushing him into the floor.Â
âMost of us didn't. This entire block had new mutants every year. All except me,â you sighed out, running your fingers over the enclosure that youâd been contained in for so long. It was in the past now, and you stood beside the very testament to your escape. The man who freed you and had given you hope. Nothing bad could happen to you here as long as he was with you, now.
âBecause you can't die...â He trailed, a single finger of his looming over the exposed skin of your neck. With him being so close, this little action almost seemed normal, but the cold weather made his hands cold, too, and the feeling of it caused a shiver. You stepped away with a shudder under your breath, but turned around and got close enough again to keep the energy from feeling awkward. No matter how cold his hands were, you still liked when he touched you.
âI wanted to. This was the worst part of my life. I never wanted to come back here.â
âThen why did you?â He crossed his arms, leaning against the cell block and leaning in. He knew the answer, or at least he thought he did. Charles made him clearly aware, not that he didnât know already.Â
âI wanna help you,â you looked down, too scared to meet his eyes and say something else besides what you wanted him to hear. âYou saved me from this place, the least I can do is help you remember it.â
He nodded, thinking that maybe he was pushing too hard. Maybe he just needed to focus on himself⊠but something about this place, it made him feel that strange connection to you again. The one that he didnât think he felt back at X-Manor.Â
He took a few steps towards the frozen doors at the end of the block, likely leading into other parts of the base that were inaccessible.Â
âHow did it happen?â He turned back, wielding a small smirk.
âWhat?â you furrowed your brows, unsure of what exactly he meant.
âThe rescue, how did it happen? Was I heroic?â He posed jokingly, hands on his hips to draw out a laugh from you, and it worked. Even in this place you were scared of, he could make you feel joy.Â
âYeah, you wereâŠâ you closed the distance between you, pushing him into position by the doors to reenact the scene. âIt was pretty late at night, the sirens started going off, we all started panicking, we thought we were getting attacked or something. Most of us were weak, and could barely stand. My legs were likely broken and definitely cut apart from the tests they'd been doing⊠We thought it was the end. And then you came charging down the cellblock with this woman,â you sat back into your cell, feeling no semblance of fear from it now. He ran down to your cell with a cheesy grin, playing along for your amusement. âYou both started to set everyone free. But you were the one who tore open my cage, and without thinking, I let you help me upâŠâ you trailed, watching as per your story, he reached in and helped you to your feet just like he had done all those years ago. âThat was the first time I touched you.â
You kept your hand in his, the tingling sensation still remaining, even though youâve probably touched him a hundred times by now.Â
âWow⊠that uh⊠doesnât sound like meâŠâ he looked away from you, his hand pulling back and hanging it at his side. Heâd broken the charade to think about how inaccurate this all sounded. Even though you were not a liar, and he could take your word for it, he just couldnât seem to think of himself how you did. âGuess it's just a lot to take in..â
Youâd painted him in such a heroic light, he wasnât sure that heroic was a word that fit him very well, much less at all. All he knew of himself was a selfish loner, who occasionally did the right thing out of obligation and not duty.
âIt is⊠take your time,â you tried your best to reel in the happiness youâd felt, because even though being here with him made you feel better⊠he was trying to remember himself, and maybe this wasnât helping.Â
âAnd the woman I was with, did you know her?âÂ
You hoped he wouldnât ask about her, you didnât want to disappoint him.
âI don't remember. She looked familiar, but I couldn't tell you who she was,â you think you saw her with Stryker a few times, but never by his side, always behind him, following orders. âShe died not long after the breakout, the professor found her after heâd come back for the remaining survivors...â
He seemed deep in thought, facing the doors of the cellblock again and clenching his fists⊠was he remembering something?
âAnd I was with her, this woman?â the way he said it implied the depth of what he was really asking.
âFrom what I gathered at the time, yeah⊠but I wasn't in the best condition, so I could have just made it all up in my head. I definitely remember you, though.â
At this he turned back to face you, coming closer and lifting his lips in the very corners to resemble a not quite smile. It still turned your stomach in the best way.
âI'm just unforgettable, huh?âÂ
âCompletely unforgettable. This is a part of my life that I have worked hard and trained myself to forget, but I remembered you instantlyâŠâ you confessed, not daring to look away from him now, when he was so clearly latched onto you. It didnât matter what you said at this point, you were sure he must have known something of your feelings by now.
âBecause I could touch you.â
You shook your head. âIt was more than that. I'd never seen anything like you before.â
âIs that a good thing?â He teased, his full smile finally returning once the air felt lighter again.
You thought about that day. Heâd come running through like a true action hero, saving everyone in his path. He had been here for something else entirely, you think, but he stopped to save you and the others. Heâd been wearing a white beater that night, his shoulders glistening with sweat while his hair bounced with every step he took. It was longer then. The determined look in his eyes was something you also noticed, and the way they softened when he steadied you to your feet, touching your skin as no one had for over two hundred years. Yes, seeing him was a very good thing.
âOh yeah, trust me.â
-
Having searched for other abandoned entry points of the base, and being unsuccessful, you opted to leave, but it had grown dark out, and there was no way you could hike all the way back to the motorcycle before the cold winds set in. It was too dark to even navigate the grounds, anyways.Â
It was decided that you could set up a makeshift camp within the escape tunnel, as it was just slightly warmer than the outside.Â
Logan didnât talk much after leaving the base. Heâd been all fun and games until he realized you both had finally made it to the place with the answers, but there were none. He didnât take his frustrations out on you, but he didnât exactly ignore them, either. In fact, he took to ignoring you instead. You tried striking up a conversation with him, and found he was in too sour a mood, and every comment you made about little things, like the sleeping bag in your backpack, or the water flask kept in his, he seemed to just grunt out a response to get back to the quiet.Â
It wasnât until the dead cold of the night that youâd been shivering your ass off, that you even dared to speak to him again.Â
âThis storm's getting worse⊠I'm gonna freeze to death.âÂ
He rolled over from his sleeping bag on the ground, a slanted brow on his face and a huff when he saw that you were truly cold. He was not in a good mood, and he didnât want to deal with more bad situations.
âI thought you couldnât dieâŠâ he grumbled, leaning up on one arm. You were curled up into a ball, all your layers on your body and the sleeping bag, but the snow was falling hard and fast outside, probably sealing you both into this icy tunnel.Â
âI can't be killed. I can still technically die,â you explained, furthering the lore on your powers. He mentally added it to the list. Almost immortal, but not really so much in snowstorms.
âThen why are you still alive?â He mumbled sarcastically, trying not to be an asshole to the only person he was dependent on the past few days.Â
âBecause I'm careful.â
You sat up, and in the dim light he could see how pale youâd gotten, your lips a shade of cold purple instead of the soft pink they normally held.
âAren't you made of energy? Just warm yourself upâŠâ He suggested, as if you hadnât thought of that. It wasnât even in your ability wheel.
âI'm made of matter and antimatter, I don't radiate heat,â you argued, trying to maintain a sense of calm while being cold enough to power a refrigerator.Â
âFine, you know what? I'm not walking you back to the bike, just get over here,â he let out, holding open the sleeping bag for you to scoot into. Youâd done so as quickly as possible, letting him drop his arm back over you in an instant. Already you could feel the fiery feeling he gave off into the air.Â
âHow are you so warm?â
âI don't know,â he shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to go to sleep. He wanted to be up with the sun tomorrow, so he could get back to the motel and get some quality rest.
âYou donât know why you feel like a toaster?â You joked with a sweet smile, but were quickly reminded he wasnât in the mood.
âDo you ever stop talking?âÂ
âSorry.â
In truth, he did feel bad about treating you like that. Youâd done so much for him, and all heâd done was snap at you when he realized the answers he was looking for were still locked up. He pulled you tighter in his arms, holding you close as if uttering a physical apology. Iâm sorry for being a dick, but thank you for being so kind to me anyways.
-
Having found warmth in you, and another feeling that cannot be described outside of perhaps the simple word: safety, Logan slept better than he had in weeks, months, even. Hell, he doesnât know if heâs ever slept like this, waking up naturally, well rested and without a nightmare in sight.Â
It was late in the afternoon, and he woke up feeling a sense of peace that he didnât go to bed with. Heâd been settled. His anger and annoyance about the failed objective made his skin crawl when the snow had been pouring down, the storm covering the ground with several inches of a white, fluffy covering.Â
Knowing it had been very late in the night when you finally were able to sleep, he didnât want to wake you, but being wrapped around you like a cocoon while you slept would make it very hard to even sit up without causing you to stir.Â
He figured he could wake you up, now, take you back to the motel so you could finish resting while he took a walk, or visited the bar. It had approached his mind the night before, that he would probably go and get wasted at the establishment to try and fill the void that had been left empty by the lack of answers.Â
Slowly, he unraveled the twisted limbs and sleeping bags, hearing your soft grumbling of discomfort when you came to. You werenât fully awake, and your arms grabbed at him, trying to pull him back in subconsciously while your moaning and groaning persisted. He let out a small chuckle at the actions, like that of a child grabbing for the security of its mother.Â
âRise and shine, princess,â He joked, trying to maneuver himself away.Â
You finally remembered where you were, and realized that Logan was the source of warmth that had been keeping you so still and secure.Â
âHey,â you let out with a furrowed brow, wiping over your eyes to try and dull the ache of opening them too soon. âWhat time is it?âÂ
âNot sure, it might be noon,â he guessed, standing on his feet and beginning to collect everything that was still scattered about on the ground of the tunnel.Â
You were silent for a minute, nodding your head and beginning to become more coherent with every minute passed. You soon joined him on collecting things that needed packing away, but did so with a sentiment passed along.Â
âIâm sorry we didnât find anything here,â you murmured quietly.Â
He almost had to do a double take⊠Why were you apologizing? Youâd done him a great service by coming here to try and help him, no matter the results.Â
âSânot your fault,â he furrowed his brow in response. âIâm sorry for treating you like shit last night. Just because Iâm mad doesnât mean I have to take it out on you.â
âDonât be sorry. If I was in your place Iâd be angry, too.â
The way you looked at him was astonishing. Like heâd hung every star in the sky. You looked at him and he felt like no matter the atrocities he knows heâs capable of, and the memories he canât reach, he could do no wrong. Nothing he ever did was bad in your eyes. It was an empowering feeling, but also a curious one. You are far greater of a person than he is, and he knows it⊠so why do you look at him like this?
The answer is simple, youâre in love with him. Heâs the first person you can touch, which is a huge factor, but aside from that, he is kind to you, and genuinely, not just because he has to be.
He remembers what Charles told him before he left. Ask her about a man named CharlieâŠ
âI uhâŠâ he trailed, watching you where you sat, packing away your water flask and flashlight. âI had a talk with the professor before we left a few days ago.â
âAbout what?âÂ
âAbout you, mostly. He told me I was in safe hands,â among other things, but he wouldnât mention that. âAnd he told me that when you were ready I could ask you about a manâŠâ
âA man?â You raised your brows in surprise. You werenât sure if you knew what you were supposed to tell him.Â
âYeah, a man⊠his name was Charlie?âÂ
He could see it, the instant the name left his lips. Your face fell and your brain had to work overtime to try and return it to something neutral, and less traumatized. Your silence made him think that maybe he crossed a line. If you hadnât been ready to talk about this man, then heâd just made a huge mistake. He doesnât know who this fellow is, but he clearly did something to you.Â
âAre you alright?â Logan knelt down, interrupting your blank stare. He could see the memories flashing behind your eyes, the thoughts winding up in your head.
âYes,â you shook out of it, but your smile didnât come back. âIâve been around people that know about him for a long time, I didnât think Iâd ever have to retell the story.â
âYou donât have to,â he shook his head, a hand raising to your arm to try and bring comfort. âI assume itâs a sad story?â
âThe worst one I knowâŠâ you trailed, finally giving a small quirk of your lip in a smile. Looking at Logan for too long made it impossible to scowl forever. âItâs been a hundred and thirty some years just about.â
He whistled long and low, sitting down across from you to fully pay attention.Â
âI started working in a farm house in Virginia in the Eighteen Sixties. I kept to myself as best I could, making beds, doing laundry, washing dishes. Best paying job Iâd ever had so I stayed as long as I couldâŠâ you trailed, taking a deep breath to introduce the main character of this story. âThere was a stable boy there, worked the farm for the family for years before he got promoted to caring for the horses. I hadnât met him until about two months of being there.â
âHeâs Charlie?â Logan lifted a brow inquisitively, fully engrossed in the history you were sharing. You nodded your head to confirm.Â
âHeâs Charlie. He was only nineteen years oldâŠÂ he was the only person that Iâd barely ever talked to that grew fond of me. I didnât even have to do anything,â you joked, dipping your head and remembering the way it all went back then. âHe used to volunteer to help me hang laundry just so we could talk.â
âClassy guy,â Logan teased, watching your face light up with the way you were recalling everything.
âHe was, and so gentlemanly⊠The day he found out about me being what I am, it was a complete accident. Long story short, I killed a chicken. He took the blame for it, and at the end of the day, the family ate it for dinner.â
âHe knew about you?âÂ
âMhm,â you nodded, another smile spreading. âHe didnât care. Heâd never touched me before, and knowing that he never could⊠he still didnât care.â
You sighed, the bliss of the memory fading from view when the next part resurfaced.Â
âI fell in love with him, and eventually he asked me to marry him. Obviously, I said yes,â you paused for a moment, heaving a sigh as tears backed your eyes. âThe day we left for town to get married, there was an accident⊠Some drunk men with a gun were messing around like assholes, and one thing led to another. They started firing off rounds in our direction, and I knew I could block the bullets, but I hadnât told Charlie that. He tried to save me, tried to pull me out of the wayâŠâ
You couldnât even finish the sentence, but Logan already knew.Â
âYou touched himâŠâ he filled in the blank, watching you blink away the tears that started to fall. Your silent and weak nod was heartbreaking, and in under two seconds flat, Logan had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to him to feel comforted. He was the only one who could do this, and after hearing your story of a lost love, he knew how much it meant.Â
He is grateful to you and owes you a lot. Being your shoulder to cry on is the least he can do in a situation like this, where you seemed like you just needed someone to hold onto.Â
âItâs been a long time,â you mumbled, sniffing to try and block more tears from falling. Being in Loganâs embrace made it better. âI thought he was the love of my life⊠but Iâve lived so much of my life now without him.â
âIâm sorry,â he ran a hand over your hair, tucking your head under his chin.Â
âI just wish he'd been something like youâŠâÂ
âSomething like me?â He asked, unsure of what you could mean. The way you described him, he seemed perfect. A gentleman, a protector, someone who loved you so much that he was willing to go through life without the most basic of relationship necessities. He didnât feel like he could compare.
âImmune to my mutation.â
Your clarification made him understand, and maybe he shouldnât have uttered his next words, but he did, fully knowing the answer.
âIâm guessing no one else has been,â he let out, beginning to loosen his hold on you.Â
Youâd backed away and looked him in the eyes with your teary, puffy red ones.Â
âSo far, only you.â
âIâm sorry, that sounds lonely.â His embrace didnât leave, but he dropped your gaze for a moment to try and think about what that must be like. To not only be without that kind of comfort, but to constantly have to avoid it at all costs.Â
âSânot so bad anymore. Youâre pretty decent company, and you donât seem to hate being around me... Iâd say I lucked out.â You leaned back into his arms, laying your head on his shoulder this time as you took a deep inhale. The scent of him was intoxicating, and the way he was constantly warm felt like an invitation in itself.Â
He didnât move you, or make you go anywhere. He knew that if heâd been stuck here for days that it would have to be endured for your sake. After hearing of the tragedy in your past, he felt you deserved to sit here in silence, safely and securely wrapped in his strong arms.
-
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for always and ever is always for you
old man!logan x healer!reader
word count: 15.2k
summary: logan is getting sicker by the day, and charles' seizures are occurring more and more frequently. logan didn't think he'd ever see you again - but desperate times call for desperate measures.
warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, descriptions of blood and illness, angst, logan's pov, reader is afab, language, slow burn as far as one-shots go, no use of y/n, caliban being sassy, mutual pining, friends to lovers, unprotected p in v, oral (m&f receiving), face sitting, cream pie, some dirty talk and pet names
author's note: thank you @embbarnes for reading this and letting me rant about it and assuring me that it's worth posting đ«¶đ» this took me an embarrassing amount of time and i have to say i am pretty proud of it. flashbacks are in italics
divider by @saradika-graphics!
âThis is the third time in the last week, you know.â
Logan stares down at the deep red splatters of blood that creep towards the drain. The skin of his knuckles begin to turn white from how harshly he grips the edges of the sink â heâs surprised the ceramic doesnât shatter. He turns the faucet on, lowering his lips to the weak stream to collect enough water to rinse the taste of iron from his mouth.
âI know that,â Logan spits the now pink tinged water into the bowl and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. âYou donât think I fuckinâ know that? Iâm the one hacking my lungs up here.â He shoves past Caliban, exiting the small bathroom.
Logan doesnât want to snap at him â hates that it happens as often as it does. But right now heâs late for work and the last thing he needs is to hear Caliban harping on about this again while he scrambles to find his car keys.
âYou know I hate to keep bringing this up,â Caliban continues as he follows Logan into the makeshift kitchen of the abandoned smelting plant.
âI find that hard to believe,â Logan mumbles under his breath. He finds his keys hidden under some junk mail and shoves them in his coat pocket before pouring himself some coffee to take with him to work. Itâs day old and not as strong as heâd like for it to be, but heâll be glad that he has it when midnight rolls around.
âCharles,â Caliban continues. âThe medications are doing very little to help him anymore. Weâre having to give him twice as much as we were a month ago, which means we are running out twice as fast. Heâs getting worse. You both are. We need to find a⊠specialist that can help with both of our problems.â
Logan snorts in response, practically able to feel Calibanâs eyes burning holes in the back of his head.
âThere ainât a thing that any doctor can do for me and you know it.â
Maybe Logan hasnât had the flu, or strep throat, or even the common cold in two hundred odd years, but he knows thereâs no prescription that any physician can write that would stop his very bones from poisoning him.
âLet me rephrase that, then. Not a doctor. You need to see a healer.â
Logan freezes, his posture going rigid.
âIf youâre about to say what I think youâre going to say, I suggest shutting the fuck up.â
âHeâs had a record number of seizures so far this week,â Caliban implores. âYouâre barely standing upright. Thereâs a chance that she could help you both.â
âSheâs out of the question,â Logan spits before storming past him. He yanks the door open and slams it closed behind him as he steps into the late evening Mexico sun.
How does Caliban even know about you? Some of Charlesâ rambling in his rare moments of lucidity, no doubt.
It doesnât matter if you can help or not.
For a lot of reasons, it doesnât matter.
The most obvious one being he hasnât talked to you in over a year and doesnât know where the fuck youâre at.
âąâąâąâąâąâą
âYou donât have to stay back there, you know. You can come closer. Youâre not in my way.â
Thereâs no hint of condescension in your voice. Only patience, and reassurance. Still, Logan doesnât budge from his position in the corner of the mansionâs infirmary.
You donât press him any further.
He had lost track of how long heâd been standing here, just watching in complete silence as you tend to the young mutantâs injuries.
Logan doesnât even know the kidâs name. He doesnât know any of their names. But heâd been the one to find all five of them in a locked cell on todayâs mission, and he isnât going to leave this room until he knows that they are all okay.
Youâd already taken care of four out of the five. They now rest peacefully in individual beds, no doubt the warmest and safest theyâve been in God knows how long.
Your hands hover a few inches above a young boyâs chest, emitting a pale purple glow as you wave them over his torso, letting your powers radiate from your palms into his body.
Logan notices the color of your power isnât as vibrant as it was when youâd healed the first childâs injuries, or the second, or third. Originally a bright violet, itâs now a lackluster lavender.
He also doesn't miss the way that you suddenly close your eyes with furrowed brows, but he remains in the corner, watching you carefully. You dig your teeth into the flesh of your bottom lip in concentration, causing Logan to take an involuntary step forward at the pained expression on your face.
Your hands drop down to the railing of the bed that the boy lays in, clutching the bars to keep you from falling over as the energy youâd been emitting fades away.
âShit,â you huff, out of breath. A thin layer of perspiration glistens on your forehead.
âWhatâs wrong?â Logan asks as he moves closer to you. âAre you okay?â
âYeah,â you grunt, nodding as you look up at him. You give him a forced smile that does very little to reassure him. âIâm fine. Itâs just been a while since Iâve had to use so much of my powers in such a short amount of time.â
âMaybe you should sit down for a minute, yeah?â Logan looks around the infirmary, walking a few feet away to grab a chair for you. He places it next to the bed that youâre still using for support.
âIâll be as good as new soon,â you assure him as you take a seat. âThis happens occasionally.â
Logan stands beside you, awkwardly leaning against the edge of an empty bed next to the boyâs. He watches as you lean forward, taking the kidâs small hand in your own. Thereâs no resurgence of purple â youâre simply holding it. The boy is sound asleep, so the act makes Logan wonder if itâs for his comfort or your own.
âIf I exert too much energy at once, I feel the effects of it. Not enough to really hurt me, just.. leave me feeling like I need to sleep for a week,â you explain with a weak chuckle. Loganâs eyes are fixated on the way that your thumb soothes over the skin of the boyâs hand.
âA gift that comes with a price,â Logan murmurs. âI know how that feels. Though it sometimes feels more like a curse in my case.â He instinctively glances down at his knuckles, his claws sheathed away.
âI can see how it would feel that way,â you agree, glancing up at him with a soft expression. âBut itâs not what your power is that determines whether itâs a curse or a gift. Itâs what you do with it. And these kids are alive because of you. A lot of people are, because you choose to use it for good. Iâd say that makes it a gift.â
âI guess I should try to look at it that way more often,â he hums.
âPlus, having the ability to heal yourself has gotta be pretty neat. I think youâre the only person here who would never have to ask me for my help.â You glance back up at him, a hint of a smirk ghosting your lips.
Theyâre pretty, he thinks â your lips. He mentally scolds himself, knowing now isnât the time or place to be thinking about your lips.
âYou can count on that, bub.â
When Logan wakes, he doesnât have the chance to mourn the memory heâd found himself reliving in his sleep.
He does find himself on the floor by his bed with the breath knocked from his lungs. His hands come to shield his ears, attempting to block out the high-pitched shrieking that makes his ear canals feel as if they are filling with blood.
Judging by the sunlight streaming into his room through the thin, tattered curtains covering his windows, he guesses that itâs mid-afternoon. He couldnât have been asleep for more than a few hours â meaning it also couldnât have been more than a few hours since he had given Charles his most recent dose of medicine.
With the world shaking around him, a half empty bottle of liquor and an old coffee mug both shatter as they fall off of his bedside table and hit the ground.
Logan and Caliban had recently cleared off all shelves in the smelting plant, moving anything that could potentially fall and break during one of Charlesâ episodes closer to the ground, but after a long night of driving around drunk assholes, itâs easy to forget that even a ceramic cup on a small table is a hazard.
He can tell by the way that the air around him feels as if it weighs ten tons that Charles has to be close by. He musters all of his strength to force himself to his feet. Each movement feels as if heâs in slow motion as he fights against the psionic energy that works to keep him frozen in place.
As slow as if he has hundred pound weights attached to each of his feet, he makes his way from his bedroom and to the common area. When he turns the corner, he first sees Caliban, still as a statue with his facial features contorted in agony and his typically alabaster skin turning redder by the second from the pain. Heâs less than a foot away from where Charles sits in his wheelchair, where he appears to have been watching a movie.
Logan frantically looks around the room, searching for where he had placed the bag of injections and pills when heâd forced Charles into swallowing his last dose just a few hours ago.
He finds it on what is used as a dining room table. Itâs sheer good luck that Logan had thought to prepare an emergency dose of the injection earlier that day, most likely thanks to Calibanâs lecture from yesterday evening still looming in the back of his mind.
After what feels like hours, Logan finally reaches Charles with the injection and plunges the needle into his chest. The second that the medication enters his system, the seizure ceases.
Caliban and Logan both collapse to the ground in relief. Logan clutches his chest, trying to steady his heartbeat and regulate his breathing.
âYou dream of her just as she dreams of you,â Charles whimpers through labored breaths.
âWhat?â Logan snaps, glaring at Charles from his position on the dirty floor. His ears must still be ringing from the effects of the seizure, because he canât have heard him right. âQuit reading my mind.â
âYour thoughts are always loud when you think of her,â Charles murmurs, turning his attention back to the movie on the screen in front of him as if nothing had happened.
It's the first time, Logan realizes, that Charles has mentioned you since the day of his first seizure. Even without specifically saying your name, Logan knows exactly who heâs referring to.
âMake that four incidents this week,â Caliban grumbles as he jerks the plastic bag filled with medication out of Loganâs hand. He digs through it, pulling out a pill bottle and dumping two into his palm. âHeâs averaging an episode per day, and each one feels stronger than the last. Itâs only a matter of time before he killsââ
âDo you know where sheâs at? Can you track her?â Logan interrupts him. Caliban pauses to look at him, visibly annoyed.
âOh, so itâs a good idea now that heââ he jabs a finger in Charlesâ direction, âmentions her once, is it?â He stomps over to where Charles watches the television, seemingly oblivious to the conversation happening right beside him.
âTake these. Both of them.â He shoves them into Charlesâ palm and then storms past Logan.
âDidnât say anything about it being a good idea,â Logan grunts, following him into the kitchen. âBut you seem to think it is and I donât know what else to do. So can you find her or not?â
âOf course I can,â Caliban retorts defensively. âAs long as you have something with her scent on it.â
Logan throws his hands up in frustration, and then rakes one hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
âI havenât seen her in over a year. Why would I have anything that smells like her?â
âIt doesnât have to be dosed in her favorite perfume,â Caliban huffs. âBut I canât track anyone without some amount of their scent to go off of.â
âGoddammit,â Logan groans between gritted teeth. He turns in the opposite direction, heading back to his bedroom.
He thinks back to the last time that he saw you â the last time that his life had any sense of normalcy. The day of Charlesâ first seizure, the day that he saw seven of his friends die, you werenât there. By some miracle, you had been out of town.
But a few days before that â it had been snowing. It was the first snow of winter and you had taken a group of younger students to play outside in the middle of class.
Logan was called over by a few of the kids who begged him to help make a snowman. You kept to the sidelines, watching him with the students, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself to keep your cardigan pulled securely around your chest.
He remembers pausing what he was doing to run over to you and insist that you take his jacket until you were all back inside. He remembers how much he liked seeing you wear it, and how silly he felt when he didnât like that you remembered to give it back.
He remembers being enveloped in the smell of honey and cream when he shrugged the jacket back onto his own shoulders. Less than a week later, he found himself in Mexico with no need to wear such a heavy leather jacket.
It's now been over a year since heâs so much as touched it.
Logan begins rifling through the drawers of the dresser that looks to be as old as he is, containing all of the clothing that he owns. It doesnât take but a few seconds until he recognizes the feeling of the worn leather against his fingertips.
He brings the jacket up to his nose, inhaling where your skin and hair had rest against the collar. He breathes in deep, concentrating on the scent that transports him back to before his life was completely uprooted and turned upside down. With his eyes closed, itâs easy for him to let himself believe heâs standing in the kitchen of the mansion with your arms around his neck.
It's faint. If he didnât have enhanced senses, he may not have been able to detect it at all. But itâs there â familiar and nostalgic and unmistakably you.
âąâąâąâąâąâą
It takes Caliban all of sixty seconds to pinpoint your location.
Logan doesnât quite know how to feel about learning that thereâs only one state in-between the two of you. He wasnât sure where he expected you to be, really â it doesnât surprise him that you didnât stay in the state of New York, and he didnât think you would return to your hometown, but knowing that youâve possibly been just a half dayâs drive away from him this entire time makes a lot of emotions surface that heâs been trying to push down for the last year.
He begins the drive just after six in the morning. By the time the sun starts to set that evening, he enters the city limits of Silverton, Colorado.
Nestled in the snow-capped Rockies, the small town couldnât be more polar opposite of where he has resided for the last thirteen months. The stark differences nearly cause him to turn his limousine around and head back to the smelting plant without even bothering you â if youâd chosen somewhere like this to live, thereâs no way youâd be content with the brutal, dry heat of northern Mexico.
But this is the closest heâs been to you in nearly four hundred days, and despite the fact that heâs spent the last ten hours of this car ride thinking about what heâs going to say to you and still doesnât fucking know, he canât bring himself to go back to Mexico without trying.
Without at least seeing your face. Without at least seeing for himself that youâre doing okay.
He knows itâs selfish. He knows he made his choice when he took Charles to Mexico without even letting you know that they were alive. It doesnât matter that he had his reasons for doing so, it doesnât matter how much it killed him inside â he made his choice and he should have to live with it, without disturbing your peace and asking any of this of you.
He justifies it by telling himself that itâs for Charles, and Caliban. Maybe itâs his pride, but he refuses to make his ailing health your responsibility. Asking you to help with Charles is already asking too much.
He turns down a dirt road, following the approximate â not exact â instructions that Caliban had provided. Thankfully, itâs a small town in both size and population, so it doesnât take him too long to find the neighborhood that Caliban had described.
He knows he has found the right house when he sees your car. He recognizes it instantly due to the cracked rear bumper that you still have yet to have replaced and its unique sage green color that peaks through the light dusting of snow.
He pulls into your driveway, parking his limousine next to your vehicle and turns off the engine. He takes in the appearance of your home â a small, cozy cabin with smoke erupting from the chimney. All of your curtains are pulled closed but thereâs enough light peaking through them for him to know that youâre inside.
The thought occurs to him that he might not find you alone. Itâs been over a year â you could have found someone to build a life with. They could pull into this very driveway at any moment. Hell, you could have a baby for all he knows. He might be seconds away from learning that you have a whole family of your ownâ
His thoughts only stop spiraling when he sees your front door swing open, your face peeking around the frame a second later. Confusion is etched across your features as you notice the limousine parked in front of your porch.
You donât yet know that itâs him due to the limousineâs tinted windows, he realizes.
You exit the house, stepping onto your front porch with your arms crossed over your chest as you wait for the driver of the vehicle to make themselves known.
You havenât aged a day. Your hair being longer than the last time he saw you is the only physical proof that any time has passed at all.
Logan attempts to clear his face of all of the emotions coursing through him and opens the driverâs side door, stepping out of the vehicle.
Thanks to the adamantium poisoning his body, his eyesight has started to decline over the last few months. But Logan doesnât need to have his glasses on to know that you look like youâre seeing a ghost.
âHey, sweetheart,â he greets you in a cautious voice. He stays planted where heâs at, waiting for you to respond before coming any closer to the front porch steps.
He swears he watches you go through all five stages of grief in under a minute. Confusion fades to shock, shock turns to denial, and denial morphs into anger before youâre left with a blank expression.
âI know Iâve got a lotta explaining to do,â Logan starts. âIf youâll let me, Iâll answer every question you have. Iâm just asking you to hear me out.â
It takes every ounce of self-restraint that he possesses to not walk up the steps of your porch and wrap you in his arms. He may be standing just a few feet away from you, but it doesnât feel real. Heâs convinced that at any moment, heâll wake up back in his pathetic excuse of a bedroom in the smelting plant.
You take a few small, tentative steps forward. Your eyes never leave his, an unreadable expression on your face. Logan canât tell if youâre trying to decide if heâs real, if youâre about to jump into his arms, or if youâre about to yell at him to get the fuck out of here.
You come to a stop on the bottom porch step.
âWhatâs the deal with the limousine?â You nod towards the vehicle behind him.
âIâm uh â Iâm a limousine driver,â he answers lamely.
âA limousine driver,â you repeat with raised brows, though it doesnât sound like a question. âYou know, there have been a lot of nights that Iâve laid awake wondering where youâre at and what youâre doing. Of all the possibilities, I never considered limo driver.â
Logan opens his mouth to respond, but quickly shuts it again when you turn on your heel, walking back up the steps and to the front door. You pause before you cross the entryway, looking back at him over your shoulder.
âTake your shoes off at the door. Donât be tracking snow into my house.â
Logan watches you retreat into the house, his body frozen in place. As far as initial reactions go, he supposes that could have been significantly worse â but he knows he isnât out of the woods yet.
He follows you inside, kicking his boots off at the door and closing it behind him.
The inside of your house is warm, thanks to the gentle fire going in the fireplace in your den. Itâs cozy â youâve decorated for the approaching holidays. Garland and twinkling lights adorn your mantle, and in the corner of the living room is an elaborately decorated tree. The whole place smells like a mixture of the candle burning on your coffee table and whatever you have cooking in the kitchen.
It's not just cozy, he thinks. Itâs homey. And heâs about to ask you to leave it all for a dirty, grimy, old smelting plant.
He follows you into the small kitchen, where you stir something in a giant pot on your stove.
âDo I even want to know how you found me?â
He can tell that youâre trying to maintain a level tone, but he doesnât miss the way that your voice shakes and rises an octave on the last word.
He clears his throat, pulling out a chair for himself at your dining room table.
âHis name is Caliban. Heâs a mutant who can track other mutants. I asked him to find you.â
You hum in response, continuing to tend to the food in the pot with your back turned to him. Logan knows that telling you he asked Caliban to track you down is just the tip of the iceberg here, but he doesnât want to throw too much at you at once. So he watches as you grab a variety of seasonings from the cabinet above you, and lets you take your time with questioning him further.
âAnd why did you ask him to find me?â
âFor Charles,â Logan answers. âI didnât want to disturb you after all this time. I know youâre probably angry and you have every right to be but.. his seizures. Theyâre getting worse. The medications that I give him arenât helping like they used to.â
You cover the pot with a lid, and turn the dial on the stove down to low before turning to face him. You lean up against the counter, your arms once again crossed over your chest â a telltale sign that youâre on edge, Logan remembers well.
âYou mean the seizures that killed a bunch of our friends and have caused the United States government to classify his brain as a weapon of mass destruction?â
Logan gives you a curt nod. âYeah. Those seizures. Weâve been living in an abandoned smelting plant just south of the border in Mexico. He mostly stays inside an old water tower. The metal it's made from helps keep the seizures contained to the immediate area around us, but.. theyâre getting stronger. Happening more frequently.â
You chew on your lower lip, a passive expression on your face as you take in Loganâs words. You donât meet his gaze, your stare fixated on something on the other side of the room.
âAnd what about you?â
âWhat about me?â Logan counters.
You turn away from him again, reaching into a cabinet to grab two bowls. Logan watches as you ladle some kind of soup or stew into the bowls and pull two spoons from a drawer.
You place one bowl in front of him, and the other at a chair across from him before retrieving a bottle of dark colored wine and two glasses.
âItâs only been a year since I last saw you but you look about ten years older,â you finally answer as you uncork the bottle and fill the two glasses. You push one across the small table. âSorry. I havenât had much of a reason to keep any whiskey on hand.â
Loganâs not surprised by the observation â youâre not wrong. He knows the adamantium poisoning his body has taken a toll on his physical appearance. His hair and beard have started to gray, his skin appears more leathered, his under eyes more crinkled.
After barely aging a day in decades, the difference between a year ago and today must look drastic to you.
But that isnât why heâs here. He can handle some aches and pains, some coughing fits, and all of the other ailments that come with typical aging. He can hide it all from you â he wonât make that your burden to bear in addition to asking you to help with Charles.
âYeah, well,â Logan starts, staring down at the stew in front of him to avoid your gaze. âThatâs what working night shifts and taking care of a ninety-seven year old disabled psychic with Alzheimerâs induced mega seizures does to a person.â
âNo one asked you to do that, Logan. I would have helped you if you had given me the chance. I would have followed you anyââ
âI know,â Logan cuts you off. âI know you would have. But I had just watched almost everyone that I love die. I couldnât risk it, letting you get hurt too. Staying away from you for the last year, itâs.. itâs been one of the hardest things Iâve ever done. But I did it because I knew it would mean youâre safe.â
Youâre silent. Your lips quiver, and Logan loses his appetite at the way your eyes begin to gloss over with unshed tears.
âDid you at least think about reaching out?â
If your watery eyes make Logan lose his appetite, the brokenness in your voice makes him feel sick with himself.
âEvery single day.â
He doesnât tell you that you frequent his dreams, or that he thinks of you every time a Pink Floyd song comes on the radio, or that he hears your voice in the back of his mind telling him to drink more water when all heâs had that day is coffee and bourbon.
He wants to. But he doesnât.
You give a small nod to his answer, but otherwise say nothing. You pick up your spoon and take a small, unenthusiastic bite of the food in front of you. Logan forces his attention to his own stew, not really wanting to eat but knowing that he needs to â he had only stopped for gas and a bathroom break once during the drive here. He hasnât eaten anything since he choked down a stale granola bar before leaving Mexico early this morning.
The two of you sit in a loaded silence. Despite how heavy it feels, he canât help but feel more relaxed in your presence than he has in a long, long time.
Your spoon clinks against the empty bowl when you finish eating. Logan looks up to see you gulping down the last of your wine.
You sigh. A long, exaggerated sigh.
âWhy couldnât you have shown up yesterday, before I put up all of my Christmas decorations?â
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Logan thinks that the interior of his limousine will smell like a Christmas tree threw up in it for the next few months.
Not that heâs complaining. The sickeningly sweet scent of balsam is a small price to pay for you agreeing to come to Mexico.
He knows he probably shouldnât feel as relieved as he does â he doesnât even know if your powers will be effective in helping with Charlesâ seizures.
But he can't lie to himself. The entire time he spent the better part of the night helping you pack your things into totes to load into your car and his limousine, he was on edge â afraid that you'd change your mind at any moment.
Of course he felt relieved when he watched your car pull out of your driveway after typing the smelting plantâs address into your GPS early this morning.
Approximately eleven hours later, he doesnât think heâs ever been so glad to be in Mexico. The drive to Colorado, packing for hours into the night and then getting a few hours of shut eye on your couch, and then the drive back to the smelting plant has taken a toll on him.
His hips ache from sitting for so long and heâs experiencing what has to be a pinched nerve in his lower back.
Thatâs a first for him.
When he arrives back home, heâs relieved to find that he got here before you. Maybe heâll have enough time to take a long, hot shower and let some max strength ibuprofen go into effect before you can notice the way that he hobbles inside.
âOh, thank God,â Caliban exhales when he sees the door open and Logan limps inside. âYou havenât answered any of my calls or texts. Did you even think to check if I was alive? He could have had a seizââ
âSorry,â Logan grunts, walking past him to retrieve the bottle of painkillers from a cupboard in the kitchen. âIâve been a bit preoccupied, trying to get back here as soon as possible and what not.â
He tosses back four pills dry and then turns to face him again. âAnd I knew you werenât dead. You blew up my phone enough to assure me of that.â
âWell, a reply or two keeping me updated would have been nice. Tracking you only tells me so much.â
Logan rolls his eyes. He doesnât have the energy for this right now.
âSheâs on her way here now. Howâs that for an update?â He pushes past Caliban, just wanting to go stand under a painfully hot stream of water.
âYou actually managed to get her to agree to come here?â
âIâm as surprised as you are.â Logan grabs a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen counter and starts walking towards his room. âAnd get the spare room cleaned up for her.â
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âI know it isnât much, but Iâm gonna get you a better mattress tomorrow.â
A few hours later, long after Caliban and Charles have retired to the old water tower for the night, Logan stands in front of where you perch on the edge of the twin sized cot in your bedroom â if it can even be called that right now.
Aside from the sad excuse of a bed, the only other things in the room are a small bedside table with a lamp, and several storage totes containing your belongings that Caliban had brought in from Loganâs limousine.
If heâd had more time to prepare, he wouldâve done more, but just forty-eight hours ago he never would have guessed that you would actually be sitting here in front of him.
âItâs okay,â you shrug. âItâll be better once I have some of my things unpacked.â
âRight,â Logan nods. âWell, I'll leave you to that then. Just.. let me know if you need anything.â
He turns to exit the room, but freezes when he grabs the doorknob. He turns back around, and finds you looking at him expectantly â almost hopeful.
âI appreciate it. You coming here. You donât owe me anything after the way I just ran off without any explanation. But I'm really glad that youâre here.â
His heart swells when he sees the way that your expression softens. Youâre too good, too forgiving and understanding. The fact that you let him into your home, served him dinner, and packed up your entire life into a few boxes and came here after a year of no contact proves it.
He takes a step closer to you, trying his hardest to ignore the sharp burn that radiates from his lower back as he forces his body forward. Despite how hard he tries to hide the discomfort, you seem to notice that something is bothering him â he can tell by the way your brows furrow together and your mouth sets in a harsh line. You scoot back a few inches on the cot mattress, making room for him to take a seat next to you.
âAnd I just want you to know that Iâm sorry,â he continues, cutting you off before you can even ask if heâs okay.
âYou donât have to say anything. I just wanted you to hear me say it. Iâm sorry for the way I handled things. It wasnât fair to you. I was just scared shitless and wanted to do what I could to keep you safe. Getting as far away from you as possible seemed like the best way to do that at the time.â
Logan internally curses his rambling. Typically a man of few words, he canât help but feel silly at the sentiment. Youâd always had a way of drawing a level of vulnerability from him that no one else ever had. He still feels that effect today.
âI understand why you did what you did, Logan,â you start. You look at him with such understanding that he feels himself physically relax at your words.
âIt just⊠hurt.â You give a small shrug, bringing your hands together to dig your nails into your palms. âI lost my friends too, you know? You and Charles included. I know that you and I, we were neverâŠâ you trail off, but he knows what you mean without saying it.
Together. Never truly together.
A million almosts that never amounted to what he truly wanted run through his mind. Heâd long ago accepted that you and him would never be more than an unspoken thing but the reminder of it still stings, coming from your lips.
âAnyway,â you shake your head. He wonders if youâre thinking of the same memories that he is â the seemingly small ones.
The ones that he wouldnât have expected to stick with him, but ended up haunting him. Having a drink in the mansionâs courtyard together after particularly exhausting missions â or even just particularly exhausting days of teaching children. Walking into the kitchen to find you making lunch â and you just so happened to have made enough for him, too. You, on the back of his motorcycle with your arms secured around his stomach, your bodies pressed as close together as they ever had been.
âIâd be lying if I said I wasnât still hurt over it. But the truth is, I was too relieved to find you standing in my driveway to tell you to leave. And I missed you too much to not come back here with you.â
Your voice is barely a whisper by the time you finish speaking. A singular tear leaks from the corner of your eye, which you hastily wipe away.
âJust don't fucking do that again, okay? I definitely wouldnât be as forgiving if it happened a second time.â
âI wouldn't forgive myself if it happened a second time,â Logan tells you â and he means it. He still doesnât know if he can forgive himself as is. But you seem to forgive him, and that's enough for him for the time being. âI promise. Mânot going anywhere.â
âGood,â you murmur with a small smile, seemingly content with his reassurance. âSo, about Charles⊠I was thinking, if the seizures are as bad as you've told me, I probably won't be much use if he's actively having one. I was thinking that starting tomorrow, I could try to work with him using my powers little bits throughout the day. Not too much at once so he doesn't get frustrated.â
You're right. Thereâs nothing that anyone can do once one of Charlesâ seizures begins, except for Logan. Itâs solely due to his healing factor that Logan is able to muster enough strength to administer one of Charlesâ injections during a seizure. Humans â as well as mutants like you and Caliban â are rendered incapacitated.
âIâll let him know that youâre here in the morning,â Logan nods in agreement. âIâm sure heâll be glad to see you.â
âI hope so,â you sigh. âIâve missed him.â
As content as heâd be to sit here and talk to you all night, youâve both had long days of driving and tomorrow brings a lot of uncertainty, so he knows that he should let you get some rest.
âWe should probably try to get some sleep,â he says reluctantly. He starts to push himself off of the cot when the nerve in his lower back catches and causes him to hiss in pain. He tries to play it off, hoping you didnât notice the way he visibly grimaced at the sudden sharp pain.
âLogan? What's wrong?â You ask, concern etched in your voice. He refuses to meet your gaze, knowing it'll be harder to lie to you if he looks you in the eyes. Instead he forces one foot in front of the other, and takes a slow step forward.
âItâs nothinâ. Just stiff from driving so much is all.â
He feels your hand wrap around his wrist as he starts to take another step, stopping him in place. He hangs his head, still refusing to look at you. He doesn't think he can handle the concern and worry that is undoubtedly written on your face.
âIf you were anyone else on the planet, I might believe that.â You stand up next to him, and your grip on his wrist only tightens. His face heats up; a side effect of your questioning stare and close proximity.
âBut Iâve seen you get impaled with a crow bar before. It healed before I even had time to fret over you. So whatâs really going on?â
It hits him how naĂŻve he was to ever believe that heâd be able to easily conceal whatâs been happening inside his body from you. The effects of the adamantium poisoning have been becoming more physically apparent for a while now, and you of all people â someone so familiar with not only illness and injury, but also him â were bound to pick up on the fact that something is very different than the last time you saw him.
He finally looks at you, your face every bit as concerned as expected.
âMy healing factor has started to slow down,â he says delicately, trying to keep his tone even. The last thing he wants to do is freak you out even more.
âSlow down? How?â
âThe shit my bones are made of seems to finally be aging me.â He chooses to forgo using the word poison, but still answers as honestly as he can bring himself to.
âBut you donât need to worry yourself with that, âkay? Thatâs not why youâre here. Some back pain isnât anything that I canât handle,â he quickly adds when distress distorts your features.
You purse your lips, leaving him wondering how youâre going to respond.
Thereâs a sudden sensation radiate from where the skin of your palm and fingers are wrapped around his wrist â itâs a soft vibration, soothing and serene. It starts at his hand and travels up his arm before expanding through his chest, back, and eventually down to the soles of his feet.
For a few moments, he feels like heâs floating. The weight of the adamantium bones disappear for the first time in decades, leaving him feeling feather light. The feeling fades away as gradually as it appeared, and with it subsides the pinching in his lower back.
He realizes that heâs looking at you as if you grew a second head. He doesnât know why heâs so taken off guard â heâs seen your powers first hand before. He just never imagined there would be a time that heâd actually learn how it feels to be on the receiving end of them.
He glances down at where you finally release your hold on his hand. When you pull away, he sees the remnants of a purple glow emanating from your palm.
âI figured you would have said no if I had asked beforehand. Am I wrong?â
âNo,â he admits in a gruff tone. âGuess not.â
âWell? How does your back feel now?â You look at him with raised brows, as if you donât already know the answer.
âBetter. But donât make a habit out of that. I want you saving your energy for Charles.â
Truthfully, he physically feels the best that he has in months. In addition to his back being free of the sharp pinching sensation, the chronic stiffness that has plagued his body is gone. Even his eyesight seems clearer.
But he thinks back to one of his earliest memories of you â the one that had presented itself in his most recent dream. He remembers the vibrancy of your power gradually dimming as you grew more tired and the way that your forehead glistened with sweat when you were worn out from excessive use of your powers.
You roll your eyes and plop back down on the edge of your cot.
âIâm more than capable of helping you and Charles both. Do you think Iâd really let you suffer, knowing youâre in discomfort?â
He knows that trying to fight you on this is as about as useful as arguing with a brick wall.
âI don't doubt your capability,â he tells you gently as he eases towards the door to your room. âBut I'm not the priority here. Now get some rest, alright?â
Your response is a brief nod that tells him he hasnât heard the last of this conversation.
âGoodnight, Logan.â
Just down the hallway, he traces the tips of his fingers over where your hand had been wrapped around his until he falls into the most peaceful and comfortable sleep heâs had in over a year.
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âSheâs a healer. She worked at the school as a nurse and teacher. You remember her, yeah? Sheâs here to see if she can help us out some.â
Logan hands Charles a double dose of pills and watches until heâs swallowed them. They are already running low on the seizure suppressants as is, but he makes him double up anyway. Heâd rather be on the safe side, since you are going to be working with Charles this morning.
âOf course I remember her,â Charles retorts after heâs taken the pills. âAs if I could ever forget with how often I see her face appear in your mind.â
âCould you do me a favor and not mention that, maybe?â Logan grumbles. He doesnât doubt that itâs true, but heâd prefer Charles to not mention it within the first five minutes of seeing you.
The door to the old water tower creaks open, allowing midday sun to infiltrate the dim space as you come inside. Caliban enters behind you.
âHi, Charles,â you greet him cheerfully âIt's so nice to see you.â
Your voice doesnât give it away, but Logan notices the nervousness in your gait â in the way that your posture is rigid and your footsteps are shorter and quicker than normal as you walk over to them.
Charles gives you a smile â the first genuine smile that Logan has seen from him in as long as he can remember.
âHello, my dear,â he beams at you. âWeâve missed you.â
You return his smile with a bashful one of your own, and wring your hands together in front of you.
âIâve missed you guys, too,â you say, your eyes flickering between him and Logan. âIâm glad to be here. Iâm going to be using my powers to try to get your seizures under control. Is that okay with you?â
âAnything sounds better than these two cramming pills down my throat like clockwork,â he grunts with a glare at Logan and Caliban.
âItâs not exactly fun for us either, you know,â Caliban scoffs.
âEnough, you two,â Logan interjects when Charles opens his mouth to respond. âWeââ he motions to himself and Caliban, âare going to give them some privacy.â
He'd be lying if he said the thought of leaving you alone with Charles during what will undoubtedly be a vulnerable time didnât make him nervous. But he doesnât want to overcrowd and overwhelm him, either.
Though a large majority of Charlesâ seizures are random, many have been brought on by a state of a emotional distress, too.
He knows that he doesnât exactly possess a natural aura of peace like you do.
A hint of anxiety flashes across your features before you quickly compose yourself. Logan starts to follow Calibanâs lead to the door, but stops when he's directly in front of you.
He reaches out and almost puts a hand on your waist before he thinks twice of it. His fingers linger awkwardly at your hip for a moment before he drops the hand back down to his side.
âI'll be close by, okay? If you need anything,â he says to you lowly. He glances over his shoulder to see Charles now tending to his bonsai tree, not paying attention to anyone around him.
âI know,â you assure him with a smile and nod of your head. âDonât worry. I wonât push him. If he starts to get agitated, frustrated, bored⊠Iâll stop immediately.â
Logan gives you one final, short nod before reluctantly following Caliban outside and back into the smelting plant.
âYou sure do seem to be getting around well for someone who could barely walk yesterday,â Caliban says in a faux casual voice as he tugs the balaclava style mask off of his head as soon as he is out of the sunlight.
Logan sighs and curses under his breath, already knowing the direction that this conversation is headed.
âNow that I'm thinking about it, I also didn't hear you having any nightmares all the way from the water tower last night. Must have had a good nightâs sleep.â
âWhat's your point?â Logan snaps. He yanks the fridge open, scanning the scarce shelves for something to eat.
He really needs to go to the grocery store once you've finished up with Charles. And buy you an actual bed. And stock back up on Charlesâ medications â
âNo point,â Caliban continues, âJust glad to see that you changed your mind about telling her about your condition is all. Even if you did threaten me within an inch of my life to not tell her right before you left for Colorado.â
âWhat can I say,â Logan grunts. âShe isn't blind. She clocked it within an hour of being here.â
Logan spends the next hour alternating between pacing the floor of the smelting plant and smoking cigars outside of the water tower. He reminds himself repeatedly that everything must be going okay, because if it wasn't, he would know by now.
He also reminds himself of the intense feeling of tranquility that came over him when he felt the effects of your powers. He canât imagine anyone not finding it euphoric â even Charles, in all of his stubbornness.
He's finishing up a cigar when you exit the water tower after what feels like an eternity. He immediately stubs it out, remembering how you used to tease him about getting cancer if he didnât stop smoking.
It wouldnât surprise him if that was an actual possibility for him these days.
âHowâd it go?â he greets you. He tries to keep his voice neutral â doesnât want to make it obvious how anxious heâs been for the last hour. âDid he do okay?â
âI guess we wonât really know until he either has a seizure or⊠doesnât,â you sigh. âHe did surprisingly well. But the damage that the Alzheimerâs has done to his brain is widespread. I doubt thereâs much reversing it. My goals are to reduce the severity and frequency of the seizures and to stop the damage from progressing any further.â
The two of you walk side by side back to the smelting plant, where Logan opens the door for you.
âSo that means that I might be staying here for quite some time.â
You ease past him through the small doorframe, your chest grazing against him ever so slightly. The familiar light scent of vanilla and honey lingers after youâre walking away.
Were you just smirking at him or is he hallucinating?
Scratch that, were you just flirting with him?
âI think I can find a way to be okay with that.â
He didnât expect you to go back to Colorado anytime too soon, given how much you packed â and the fact that your fucking Christmas tree sits in the common area â but he can't ignore that hearing you imply that you have no intention of leaving in the immediate future brings him more comfort than it probably should.
With your back turned to him as you open the refrigerator, heâs unable to see your expression, but he hears you hum in response â a sound somewhere between amusement and contentment.
âBut if I'm going to be staying here for any amount of time, the food situation is going to have to improve. How do you live like this?â
He sighs, remembering the current state of the fridge and cabinets. He ended up settling on an overripe banana for breakfast. He normally reserves grocery shopping for his off days â Mondays or Tuesdays â but those days had been occupied with traveling to and from Colorado this week.
âIâve got some errands to run today,â he starts, feeling an inkling of nervousness settle in the pit of his stomach. âGet some groceries and refills on Charlesâ medications⊠if you wanted to come with me.â
He tells himself that he invites you because it just makes sense â of course you need to familiarize yourself with the area that you're going to be living in, even if it's just temporary. It's important to know where the closest grocery store, and gas station, and pharmacy is.
And it also just makes sense that he would be the one who to show you around. Charles can't even go to the bathroom by himself and Caliban is allergic to the sun.
That's what he tells himself, anyway.
âI could be persuaded to go with you,â you drawl. âIfâŠâ You trail off, leaving Logan to look at you with a cocked brow.
âIf you let me ride in the backseat of your limousine?â
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âWell? Was it everything you thought it would be?â
Logan sits directly across from you in a small booth at a mom-and-pop diner. Itâs nearly noon and you had yet to eat today, so Logan made the last minute decision to pull into the restaurantâs parking lot after acquiring Charlesâ medications.
âWhat?â you question as you swallow a mouthful of chocolate chip pancakes. It may not be breakfast time anymore, but he knew you would appreciate the fact that this place serves all day breakfast.
âBeing chauffeured around in a limousine.â
âFor some reason the limo smelled like a Christmas tree farm exploded in it,â you say nonchalantly. âBut the driver insisted on taking me out for all you can eat pancakes so Iâm still going to leave him a good review.â
âIâm sure he had a perfectly good reason for his limo smelling like that,â he retorts in mock defense. âBut he probably should try to take care of that before he goes back to work tonight,â he adds, making a mental note to pick up some air freshener at the store.
A cheeky grin spreads across your face. You look like youâre about give him some kind of smart remark when the waitress walks over to the booth with a steaming pot of coffee.
âGood to see you in here with someone for a change,â the older woman, who Logan knows is named Lucille without having to look at her name tag, remarks as she tops off both of your mugs. âDid you finally take my advice?â She asks Logan.
âEvery time he comes in here I tell him that he needs to get on one of those dating apps,â she says to you before he can answer.
You immediately cover your mouth to keep from spewing your coffee across the table.
Loganâs face heats up by ten degrees. He should have known better than to trust Lucille to be able to read the room.
âNo,â he snaps. âI have not downloaded Tinder. Or Bumble, or Hinge. Maybe you should give them a try and stop worrying about my love life.â
He shoos her away, but she just cackles and slaps him on the shoulder.
âHoney, Iâve been married for forty-five years.â
âOh yeah? Whereâs your ring?â He asks, nodding towards her naked ring finger.
âWeâre not allowed to wear jewelry on the clock, Nosey Nelly,â she jabs back. You sit silently, watching the interaction with pursed lips to keep from laughing.
âNosey Nelly,â Logan grumbles under his breath as he fishes his wallet out of his pants pocket. He pulls out his debit card and slaps it into her palm.
You finally release a snort of laughter when Lucille waddles away.
âI take it thatâs your best friend?â
âBelieve it or not, sheâs an improvement from Caliban.â
The two of you finish your meal with easy flowing conversation. You tell him what led you to Colorado, and about how you worked part time at a veterinarianâs office and part time at a bookstore. He tells you about some of the drunk, unhinged customers that he's had in his limousine lately.
Itâs easy for him to forget that less than forty-eight hours ago, he hadnât seen you in over a year.
Before your lives were irrevocably altered, you had been one of the closest friends he had ever had. One of the most important people in his life. Sitting across from you now, itâs too easy for him to remember why that was.
âąâąâąâąâąâą
Loganâs reluctant to go to work tonight.
And itâs not just because he fucking hates his job and isnât in the mood to tolerate the bachelor party currently occupying his backseat.
To an extent, heâs always nervous to go to work. He works night shifts because Charles sleeps at night, and is therefore less likely to be triggered into a seizure during the nighttime hours. Itâs the safest time for Logan to be away.
It hasnât happened before, but that doesnât mean it couldnât. And with you now at the smelting plant, he worries about it happening while heâs away even more than he typically would.
He arrives at the strip club that the groom had requested he drive to and parks. They all drunkenly stagger out of the back of the vehicle, leaving Logan to relish in the silence after the door slams shut.
He pulls his phone from his coat pocket and sees that he has no messages.
Heâd told you to text him if you needed anything, so itâs a good thing that you havenât, right?
Itâs just before midnight, so you're most likely asleep. The lack of a text is probably not anything as drastic as the conclusions that his brain is jumping to.
Still, he can't stop his fingers as he types out a message and hits send.
Howâs the new bed?
After your brunch date â Lucille's words, not his â the two of you bought enough groceries to feed four people for a week and then went to the only furniture store in town to find you an upgrade from the fold out cot that they'd happened to have on hand when you arrived.
His phone dings just a minute later. He releases the breath heâd been holding before even reading your response.
Itâs a major improvement. You were right - not too soft, not too firm. Though it feels a whole lot bigger than it did in the store.
He reads over the text at least five times and thinks back to your time in the mattress store earlier that day.
The first couple mattresses you tested out were too soft, the next few too firm. Logan didnât mind that you were being indecisive â really. He was secretly relieved to have an excuse to spend more time with you, away from Caliban and Charles.
He laid down on a mattress that you hadnât checked out yet and instantly thought that it was significantly better than his personal mattress at the smelting plant.
âWhat about this one?â He asks, patting the empty space next to him on the queen sized bed. You walk over to the opposite side of the bed and crawl in beside him. With your arms down at your sides, one rests against his. The mattress is more than big enough for you, but with him next to you, itâs a cozy fit.
He types: Is that a good thing or a bad thing? and presses send before he can overthink it. His screen shows that you read the message right away, and he canât help but imagine the smirk on your face as you lay tucked beneath the covers.
The words âWhat do you think?â appear on his screen.
He thinks he feels like a fucking teenager with the way that a few harmless, borderline flirtatious text messages from you has him imagining what it would be like to really share the bed with you.
His jeans begin to feel uncomfortably tight. He clicks the phone off and tosses it in the empty passenger seat beside him, before he says something that crosses a line that he canât uncross.
âąâąâąâąâąâą
The relief that your powers had provided Logan had been blissful but short-lived.
By the time he gets home from work at around four in the morning, his back pain has returned with a vengeance.
Everyone is asleep when he gets in, of course. He hobbles to his room as quietly as he can. Caliban and Charles are in the water tower, but he doesnât want to wake you up. He hopes that by the time that youâre both awake later today, the pain will have subsided in his sleep.
Two hours after he lies down, he realizes that sleeping it off is an impossibility with the amount of discomfort heâs in. Heâs done nothing but toss and turn in a futile attempt to find a comfortable sleeping position, the extra strength ibuprofen and his heating pad only doing so much to ease the stabbing sensation at the base of his spine.
He knows the answer to his problem is just down the hallway.
But it's early â the sun is just now starting to rise and he has yet to hear you stir from your room. He can't bring himself to wake you up over some back pain, knowing that you'll need to use your powers to help Charles soon.
He sits up with a deep groan, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. If he already can't sleep, he may as well make something to eat and settle the rumbling in his stomach.
Taking slow, short strides, he walks back down the hallway to the kitchen as quietly as he can manage.
He comes to a halt when he sees your door open, your head popping out from around the frame.
âCanât sleep?â You ask, your voice huskier than normal with sleep.
âHowâd you guess?â
You step into the hallway, still in a pair of plaid sleep pants and an oversized crewneck.
âYour bed creaks every time you move.â You cross your arms over your chest, standing less than half a foot away from him. Thereâs evident concern on your face when you take in his stiff posture. âThis place has thin walls.â
âSorry to keep you awake.â He looks down at the ground, embarrassed. âIâll stay in the living rooââ
âDonât be silly,â you stop him. You grab his hand in yours and begin to pull him back in the direction of his bedroom.
He thinks about protesting â part of him wants to tell you that you shouldnât bother. He thinks he should tell you that he appreciates it, but heâs a lost cause, and the relief will only be temporary.
But your hand is too warm and your skin is too soft and in the end, he isnât strong enough to deny himself the feeling of your touch, so he letâs you lead the way to his bed.
You drop his hand to position yourself on one side of the bed. You donât get underneath the comforter, but you do pull it back on his side so that he can crawl beneath it.
His isnât quite as big as your new bed â itâs only a full size mattress, so itâs even more cramped than when the two of you laid on the mattress in the store yesterday, but he isnât complaining.
It's unchartered territory for you two, this type of intimacy. He doesnât remember the last time he shared a bed with anyone, but if thereâs one person on the planet that he trusts enough to allow next to him in such a vulnerable state, itâs you.
âLay however is most comfortable for you,â you instruct him gently.
He maneuvers onto his side, facing you. You copy his position, your faces inches away from each otherâs on a shared pillow.
âNow close your eyes,â you whisper.
He does as you ask, and then feels your palm rest against the thick stubble of his jaw. Your thumb grazes across the skin of his cheekbone. He melts into your touch before youâve even started using your powers.
âIs this okay?â you murmur.
âMm-hmm,â he sighs against your hand. âCould just lay like this for a while and Iâd probably fall asleep. Donât even need to use your powers.â
You snort and run the tips of your fingers through his beard.
âHow about I do both? That okay?â
He nods, too tired to think about stopping you.
He falls asleep to the soft hum of your powers within minutes, and dreams of the color purple.
âąâąâąâąâąâą
Over the next few weeks, everyone falls into a comfortable routine.
You continue to work with Charles for an hour in the mornings and then again in the evenings. Your powers help him more than Logan ever could have hoped for. Not only is this the longest heâs gone without having a seizure in months, but heâs also increasingly lucid and alert, and more like his old, spunky self than ever.
Most weeknights you cook dinner for everyone, and Tuesdays become the day that you join Logan in going to town for a weekly grocery restock and brunch at the same diner that he first took you to a few weeks ago.
He tries not to make it too obvious, but it quickly becomes one of the best parts of his week â even with Lucilleâs relentless teasing about how thereâs âno way youâre just friendsâ and Logan would be âthe biggest idiot on the planet to not lock you downâ.
Neither of you ever put much energy into disagreeing with her.
The other best parts of his week occur early in the mornings, before daylight breaks and Charles and Caliban are still sound asleep. He gets home from work and you move from your bed and into his, relieving him of any physical discomfort he could be experiencing from hours of driving around and lulling him to sleep.
The first few nights, heâd wake hours later to find that you had escaped back to your own room after heâd fallen asleep. Then, one morning, when he woke up, he opened his eyes to find your face resting against his shoulder.
You stopped bothering to go back to your own room after that.
This evening â Christmas eve â Logan sits on his bed and stares at the gift that heâd gotten you while you finish preparing the dinner that youâd been working on for the last few hours.
He feels silly. There hadnât been any discussion on getting each other gifts and he worries that itâll make you feel weird.
Itâs an espresso machine â nothing too fancy, but itâll get the job done. You had recently mentioned how much you miss the espresso machine that you had in Colorado. The house you had been renting came furnished, which included an espresso machine that you were unable to bring with you to Mexico.
He stopped by a Target before work a couple nights ago and picked it out. To top off how silly he feels, heâd completely forgotten to buy wrapping paper or even a gift bag, so heâll just be handing it to you as is.
âDinner is almost ready!â He hears your voice call from the kitchen.
The smell of honey glazed ham and fresh rolls wafts down the hallway. He places the box containing the espresso machine on the floor beside his bed, planning to give it to you after Charles and Caliban go to bed in a few hours.
When he rejoins everyone in the common area, Charles is watching Home Alone and Caliban is gathering plates and silverware for everyone while you remove a large dish of baked mac and cheese from the oven.
âSmells great,â Logan compliments as he grabs a beer out of the fridge. âAnything I can help with?â he asks, as if you hadnât all but shooed him out of the kitchen just an hour ago.
You place the casserole dish on a trivet before grabbing one of the plates that Caliban had set out.
âYes, actually,â you say, surprising him. You hand him the plate with a small smirk. âYou can make Charles a plate.â
âOh, can I?â He takes a step closer to you, taking the plate and grinning down at you. âAre you sure you trust me to do that?â
âHey, itâs not my fault that youâve been alive two hundred years and havenât taken the time to learn to cook.â
âWell, I guess I'll just have to have you teach me-"
âWould you two stop flirting and get me some ham?â Charles voice booms over the television and silences you both.
Logan notices you purse your lips to keep from smiling as you turn your attention back to the spread of food across the dining room table.
Soon, youâre all four sat around the dining room table with plates piled high with traditional holiday dishes. Logan is halfway through clearing his plate when Charles clears his throat to speak.
âThis is wonderful,â he directs at you. âThank you very much. You know, this all feels very familiar to meâŠâ he trails off, glancing between you and Logan from across the table. The smile on his face fades, and in itâs place appears an expression of confusion.
From the corner of his eye, Logan sees your grip on your fork tighten.
âThank you, Charles,â you tell him. You try to sound cheerful, but Logan doesnât miss the nervous edge to your voice. He knows that youâre noticing the same thing as him. âIâm glad youâre enjoying it.â
âYes, these candied sweet potatoes are delicious,â Caliban interjects in an obvious attempt to maintain easy conversation. âYou'll have to give me your recââ
âThis feels so familiar,â Charles repeats and all three of you go silent.
In his gut, Logan fears that he knows what is coming. It always starts this way. One minute, everything will be perfect. The next, something triggers a memory, or a feeling, and Charles is hit with the weight of the past â with the weight of the trauma that his brain normally blocks out.
âThis feels like⊠how Christmas used to feel. When weâd have dinner at the.. at the mansion. With all of our friends before I.. before I killed themââ
âCharles,â Logan says firmly, but Charles continues to stare into space. âIt wasn't your fault. Okay? Let's enjoy this nice dinner. Do you want some more green beansââ
But heâs unable to finish his sentence before it begins. The exact thing heâs been the most terrified of since you arrived here weeks ago.
Across from him, Caliban's face is frozen in agony. Beside him, your mouth is open as if to scream, but no sound comes out. Every one around him is still, and his body suddenly feels a few hundred pounds heavier.
It's been weeks since Charlesâ last seizure, but Logan knew it was too good to be true â knew that it was bound to happen again eventually. He'd planned for this, knowing the effects of the psionic energy would hurt you as they do Caliban.
Logan forces himself into a standing position by pushing off of the dining room table, and then takes as big of steps as he possibly can to get to the opposite side, where Caliban and Charles sit.
He ignores the blinding nerve pain all over his body, he ignores the intense ringing in his ears, he ignores the way it feels as if all of the air has been ripped from his lungs and reaches down to grab the bag of medication from the compartment beneath Charlesâ wheelchair â where he's made sure to keep it, in case of this exact scenario.
Despite his shaking hands, he manages to retrieve an injection and uncap it. He jabs the tip of the needle into the flesh of Charlesâ shoulder with as much force as he can muster, then collapses to the floor beside him.
Charles releases a grief stricken groan, realizing what had happened. Logan hears both you and Caliban gasping for air.
âI'm sorry,â Charles cries. âI'm so sorry..â
Logan pulls himself off of the ground using the edge of the table and instantly turns his attention to you. Your eyes are wide and your hands are visibly shaking in your lap, but you exhale the breath you'd been holding when your eyes meet Logan's.
You push your chair back, standing and closing the distance between the two of you. Your hands grip the tops of Logan's biceps. He instinctively rests his on the sides of your stomach.
âAre you okay?â You ask, your voice wobbly and several octaves higher than normal.
âI'm fine,â he assures you delicately. âAre you okay?â
You nod, hesitantly at first and then more confidently as you take him in and seem to realize that he really is alright.
âI'm fine too,â Caliban grunts from across the table. âDonât worry yourselves with me.â
Logan and you both quickly retract your hands, breaking the embrace. You turn your attention to Charles, who seems to be in another world.
âCharles? Are you alright?â You ask him softly.
âHm?â He hums as he glances up at you. âOh, yes. Iâm alright. I think.. I think Iâd like to go to bed now,â he murmurs. Logan, you, and Caliban all exchange glances before Logan tosses the bag of medication to Caliban.
âGive him a double dose of the suppressants and some sleep medicine,â Logan instructs him. Caliban nods wordlessly and wheels Charles away from the dining room table, towards the smelting plantâs door.
Once theyâve left the building, Logan turns to you. You look visibly shaken, and he canât blame you. He remembers all too well how frightening the effects of the seizure was the first time he experienced it. Even with this one being relatively short lived, he knows it had to have been more painful and scary for you than it was for him.
âIâll clean all of this up, okay?â He says, gesturing towards the half eaten dinners and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. âYou go relax. Take a shower, lay down for a whileââ
âReally, Logan. I'm okay, I promââ
âWill you do that for me?â
To his surprise, you don't object any further. You give him a small nod, and a comforting squeeze to his hand as you walk past him.
He doesn't release the sigh of both relief and frustration that heâd been holding in until he hears the shower turn on a few moments later.
âąâąâąâąâąâą
As soon as Logan finishes tidying up from dinner, he cuts two small slices of an apple pie you had baked and puts them on a plate for the two of you to share.
Your door is slightly cracked, the soft orange light from your table lamp spilling into the hallway. He knocks quietly and waits for you to tell him to come in.
Youâre in your pajamas, tucked under a blanket with a book partially obscuring your face. You do little to acknowledge his presence, so he takes a seat on the edge of your bed and places the plate of pie beside him.
The room looks significantly different than it did just a few weeks ago. In addition to the new bed, you'd also acquired a vintage dresser and an area rug that youâd found for cheap at a thrift store. You have books in piles throughout the room, one of the things that you were most adamant about bringing with you from Colorado.
âCharles is alright,â he tells you gently. âHe must have just been really tired. He didnât nap much today. Caliban said he fell asleep really quickly after taking his medicine.â
âExcept that wasnât why he had a seizure,â you sigh, closing your book. Logan now has a better view of your face, and the first thing he notices is that your eyes look red-rimmed and watery. You sit up straight, and he inches closer to you on the bed.
âHey, whatâs goingââ
âIt was definitely my fault that he had a seizure,â you sniffle, looking at him with defeat.
âWhat? No,â Logan shakes his head. You have a blanket draped across your lap, but Logan places his hand on your knee over top of it. âWhat makes you say that?â
âI always work with Charles for an hour in the mornings and an hour in the afternoons,â you start, frustration evident in your voice. âBut this afternoon, I cut our session short because he wasnât really in the best mood and I wanted to get started on prep for dinner.â
You wipe underneath your eye with the sleeve of your shirt and look away from Loganâs gaze.
âSweetheart, you canât blame yourself for this,â he assures you as he rubs slow circles on your knee with his thumb. âHe was having seizures almost every single day before you got here. Youâre not the reason he had a seizure today. But you are the reason heâs been able to go weeks without having one.â
âOkay?â He prompts when you donât respond. You finally look him in the eye again, and offer a small nod of agreement.
He hands you the plate of apple pie, earning a small smile from you.
âWait here. Iâve got something for you,â he tells you as he stands up and begins walking towards your door.
âSomething for me?â you question, but heâs already halfway down the hallway.
He grabs the espresso machine from beside his bed and heads back to your room. He still feels nervous to give it to you, but right now heâs just hoping that it will help cheer you up.
When he re-enters your room, youâre forking a bite of pie into your mouth and freeze when you see what heâs carrying. He sits back down on the edge of the bed, still holding the box. You sit the plate of pie on your bedside table and scoot closer to him.
âLogan, you didnât have to,â you murmur. He hands you the box and you hug it to your chest, but only look at him. He thinks your eyes are starting to look watery again. âI feel so bad. I didnât get you anythingââ
He waves his hand in dismissal, not surprised at all by your reaction.
âI know I didnât have to. Just wanted to. Is that okay?â
You inspect the espresso machine with a bashful grin. âThank you. I love it,â you assure him with a gentle squeeze to his hand. âI just wish I had gotten you something, too.â
âThatâs not necessary,â he says, staring down at where your hand holds his. âYou give me everything I need just by being here.â
You go still at his words with a look he canât quite read on your face. You pull your hand away from his before placing the espresso box on the floor next to your bed. The hand that previously held his comes to cradle his face, your thumb grazing along his cheekbone. He turns his head ever so slightly to the side so that his lips graze against your palm. He kisses the skin once, then twice, and your eyes flutter closed.
His heightened senses donât miss the way your heart rate picks up, or the way that you hold your breath as his lips linger on your skin.
âWhat are you thinking about?â He murmurs into the side of your hand. You open your eyes, your pupils dilated.
âSame thing Iâve been thinking about for years now,â you whisper as you lean forward, pulling his face to you.
You capture his lips in yours, opening up for him without hesitation. He slips his tongue into your mouth, the sensation simultaneously feeling brand new and like youâve done this dance a hundred times before.
He scoots further back onto the mattress, away from the edge. He pulls you with him, guiding you onto his lap. You straddle him, his hands resting on your lower back. You fist your hands around the fabric of his flannel, pulling him flush against you.
It's years of pent up desire and longing that you pour into each other. You drag your teeth along the swell of his bottom lip and he groans into your mouth, resisting the urge to buck his hips up against your center.
He knew you looked sweet, smelled sweet â but never would he have guessed that youâd taste even sweeter. Even if it werenât for the faint hint of cinnamon and apples from the pie youâd nibbled on, heâd think you were the sweetest thing heâs ever tasted.
You grind down against the uncomfortable bulge contained by his jeans and whimper â the prettiest sound heâs ever fucking heard and he hasnât even touched you yet. You pull back, your chest heaving from lack of air.
âWhy didnât we do that years ago?â you ask breathlessly. He reaches up to your face, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear.
âBecause Iâm a fucking idiot,â he answers quickly. His eyes lock on your kiss swollen lips and he thinks youâve never looked prettier than you do right now â staring down at him with puffy lips wet with his kiss. âBut now that Iâve kissed you, Iâm not gonna stop. Gonna kiss you for as long as youâll let me.â
And to prove his point, he starts trailing wet, open mouth kisses along your jaw and down your throat. You throw your head back, giving him unhindered access to the skin of your neck. He alternates between kissing and nipping the tender flesh, leaving a damp trail across your skin.
You grab at the hem of your shirt and Logan pulls away to allow you to tug it over your head. Youâre left naked from the waist up and Logan is left feeling like his cock is going to break through the zipper of his jeans.
With your tits directly in front of his face, he latches his mouth to one nipple and palms the other in his hand. You rock yourself against his erection, chasing the relief that the friction provides you.
âLogan,â you pant from above him. âPleaseââ
He pulls his mouth away from you with a wet pop, leaving your nipple glistening and taut.
âTell me what you want, honey.â
You let out a low whimper at the pet name and drag your fingers through his hair. He toys with the waistband of your pajamas pants, popping the elastic band lightly against your skin.
âYour mouth,â you say, the words somewhere between a whine and a plea. âI wanna feel your mouth on me.â
He groans at the bluntness of your words. Hearing you say that you want his mouth on you has his cock throbbing in his pants.
âYeah?â He taunts as he maneuvers you off of his lap. He quickly tugs his own shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. Your eyes trail down the expanse of his chest, your mouth slightly agape.
He tilts your head so that youâre looking at his face again and tugs at your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.
In that moment, he hopes you never stop looking at him like that.
âYou gonna sit on my face?â
You nod, eagerly. You push your pajama pants down past your ass and thighs, and Logan helps pull them the rest of the way over your calves and ankles. You lean forward, reaching for the waistline of his jeans and fumbling with the button until it pops open.
He sees you completely naked before him and his brain goes momentarily blank. He canât believe he actually gets to see you like this â bare for him and more perfect than he ever could have envisioned.
And believe him, he had tried. Nothing could have prepared him for how it actually feels to see you, touch you, taste you after years of yearning for you.
âLay down for me?â You ask with a small laugh, snapping him out of his trance. He does as you ask, placing his head on one of your pillows.
You straddle his chest, your back to his face. He helps you inch backwards until your pussy hovers directly over his mouth. He pauses for a moment, spreading your thighs apart with his hands to give him a clear view of your already dripping cunt before yanking you the rest of the way down to his mouth.
You moan as soon as his tongue slides through your wet folds, bracing your hands on the defined planes of his chest. The sweet and salty tang of you fills his mouth and he has to resist moaning goddamn, I love you into your cunt.
He could get drunk off of the flavor of you.
You grind yourself against his face, your juices coating his beard and your inner thighs. Heâs so focused on working you with his lips and tongue that he doesnât even notice you pushing his jeans and boxers down until he feels his cock spring back and slap his lower belly.
âFuck,â you moan at the sight of him. You pump him in your hand, smearing the pre-cum from his slit down his shaft. âYou're so big. I donât know how youâll fit inside me.â
He hears you spit, then feels it drip across his tip. You smear the warm wetness down his length and press a kiss to the side of his cock before taking him in your mouth. The head nudges against the back of his throat before you pull back, then ease back in, slow and deep.
Heâs always loved your lips, but right now heâs doesnât think he could ever love them more. He wants to watch as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head along his length, but thatâs going to have to wait for another time.
Right now, heâs right where he wants to be. He has your swollen clit locked between his lips, sucking on it to the point that your legs quiver around his head. You lean forward, pressing your chest against his stomach as you run your tongue down the entirety of his cock and stroke him in your hand.
âIâve waited so long to taste you,â he grunts from beneath you. The vibrations of his voice making your pussy clench around the finger that he teases your hole. âThis cuntâs so fuckinâ sweet.â
He eases his index finger past your entrance, your walls constricting around the digit. âAnd so fuckinâ tight,â he adds, pumping in and out of you as you begin to move forwards, then backwards, up, and then down â grinding against his finger.
âLogan, I'm gonna cum,â you cry and it makes his balls tighten. He feels it â the way you gush around his finger and the way your legs clench around his head.
You ride out your orgasm above him, and then collapses against his chest. Your skin is sticky with sweat against his, despite the fact that the current cold front has the smelting plant colder than normal tonight.
You roll off of him, falling onto the mattress next to him. Your slick glistens on your thighs in the soft glow of your lamplight. It's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, he thinks. You fucked out and delirious from your climax.
But he thinks he might fucking die if he has to spend one more second of his abnormally long life not knowing how it feels to be buried inside you.
He helps pull you into a sitting position, and then lays you down in his place. Your tits heave as you try to regain control of your breathing. He's on his knees, fisting himself in his hand as he nudges your knees open. Your eyes are locked on his cock, a look of half excitement and half terror.
âYou can take it, honey. I know you can,â he coos.
He slaps the tip against your clit, then glides it up and down your wet length. Not entering you quite yet, but coating himself in your slick. He looks down at himself next to your pretty, wet cunt and imagines how itâll be to see it sliding in and out of you.
âJust been a while, thatâs all,â you say, pulling him down to the by the back of the neck. He lines himself up at your entrance, nudging just the tip in. Even thatâs a stretch for you, he can tell by the way your mouth forms an O shape.
He goes still for a moment â for your sake, but for his own, as well. He has to adjust to the warm tightness of your pussy before he trusts himself to go any deeper.
âI know, baby. Been a while for me too. Been waiting for you for a long time.â
He slates his lips over yours, kissing you messy and deep as he slowly sheaths himself inside you. He stills again once heâs buried to the hilt, and breaks the kiss to look down at you.
âYou okay?â He murmurs. He props himself up on one forearm by your head, and brings his free hand to roll one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
You give him another eager nod, and wrap your legs securely around his hips, hooking your ankles together just below his ass.
âMm-hmm,â you sigh. âNeed you to move now, Logan.â
With his cock throbbing inside you, he doesnât make you tell him twice. His length drags along the soft, spongy interior of your walls as he pulls out and eases back in. He gives you a few languid, slow strokes to accommodate the newfound stretch before it's hard for him to hold back.
He gets lost in it all â in the wet, tight heat of your cunt, in the sounds that your bodies make as he repeatedly snaps into you, in every expression on your face and every noise that slips past your lips.
You snake your arms around his abdomen, your hands coming to rest on his lower back.
âH-howâs your back?â You stammer out as he continues to piston his hips forward.
âI've never been better,â Logan grunts, resting his sweat slicked forehead against yours.
It's the truth. Heâs never felt better than he does right now, between your legs â even if he is feeling this in his back. He'll deal with any and all repercussions later, once he's felt you cum around his cock while you cry his name.
You smile up at him as if to say wanna bet?
You flatten your hands across his skin at the base of his spine, and he doesnât have to be able to see it to know what you're doing. He's experienced the effects of your powers enough by now to recognize them instantly â the low vibration they emit and the immediate warmth that spreads throughout his body.
âGonna make me cum, honey,â he warns you. âFeels too good.â He feels your walls constrict around him when he calls you honey.
âKiss me and Iâll cum with you,â you tell him in a breathy voice that he could listen to talk in all fucking night.
He kisses you again, this time more hurried than anytime before as he chases both of your releases. He spills into you with a deep groan as your cunt spasms around him. You moan his name into his mouth until he stills inside you, the last ropes of his cum filling you up.
He isnât sure how long the two of you stay like that â with him still tucked inside you, laying pressed against you with his face nuzzling the crook of your neck. You trail your fingers up and down his spine, the sensation the only thing grounding him to reality in his post orgasm haze.
Finally, he pulls back enough to look down at you.
âStay here,â he says earnestly. âStay with me. Don't go back to Colorado. One day, weâll go anywhere you want to. Just the two of us. But right now, please stayââ
âLogan,â you shush him gently. âI wasnât planning on going back to Colorado. Or anywhere without you.â
He exhales, and kisses you on the forehead before finally pulling out of you and plopping down beside you. He tucks you between his chest and his arm, your head resting just above his heart.
âYou know, this new bed of yours is a whole lot comfier than mine,â he comments casually.
âHmm,â you hum and tilt your head to look up at him. âYou should probably sleep here tonight. For your back, of course.â
He laughs, sleep threatening to overtake him at any second. He presses a lazy kiss to your forehead.
âI'm not going anywhere without you, honey.â
âąâąâąâąâąâą
HI HI!!
old man logan!comfort (f!reader is going through problems at home)
STRAIGHT UP TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF
Guardian Angel
List of works
Pairing: Old Man!Logan Howlett x F!Reader
Summary: When you and your younger sister get kicked out of your home, your much older employer takes the two of you in.
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Hurt/comfort. Unspecified age gap. Implied violence/blood. Death of parents. Power imbalance because Logan is technically your boss. Soft and protective Old Man!Logan. Unwanted sexual advances (not from Logan don't worry!)
Rating: Mature
Before You BeginâŠHi! I absolutely love this idea. Gosh, I wanna be comforted by that hot old man. This has quite a bit of angst in it but I hope the fluff will balance it all out.
Also, in this universe, Logan is still alive and living his best life with Laura because I say so lol.
Enjoy!
You pray to God that you don't fall asleep at the steering wheel. But it's getting really hard not to.
You're driving home after another late night shift at the diner. It's one of your two jobs that you have to work to support yourself and your younger sister Charlotte. Six months ago, your parents died in a car accident, leaving both of you devastated.
But you didn't really have time to grieve. You had to find a way to support yourself and, most importantly, Charlotte. You couldn't let your parents down. You needed to make sure she had a roof over head.
So, you took two jobs. One is working as a waitress at a local diner. You have mixed feeling on it overall. On the one hand, some customers are lovely. But sometimes, you got someone who would make inappropriate comments at you or would blame you for something that wasn't even your fault. But you keep on working. You need the money.
But your other job, you absolutely love. You babysit a young girl named Laura. She's about the same age as your sister, and while she can be stubborn and gives you the stink eye on more than one occasion, you adore her. Sometimes you even bring Charlotte with you. The pair get along well.
And then there's her father. Logan.
At first, you didn't like him. He had a rough exterior and seemed grumpy all the time. It was probably the stress of being a single father and an uber driver. The same way you had to deal with rude customers at the diner, he probably had to deal with rude riders.
But over time, he began to soften. The two of you would have conversations once Laura went to sleep and would just vent to each other about raising a young child on your own. And despite how he's even older than your father had been, you developed a crush on him. He's rugged, but handsome.
But all your daydreaming of Logan comes to an end when you see a large truck outside your house. Holy shit! You're thankful that Charlotte isn't home. She's spending the night at Laura and Logan's house.
Not that you think it's an intruder. You know exactly what this is. As soon as your car stops, you hop right out. Several people are carrying furniture out of the house. Your house. The house you've lived in your whole life.
"Hey!" you shout at the people moving the couch. "Stop it!"
"Sorry, lady," one of the guys shrugs. "We're just taking orders."
"Orders from who?" you ask.
"Me."
A pit forms in your stomach. You know that voice. It's Mr. Beasley. From the bank. He's your typical smarmy businessman, much older than you but nowhere near as hot as Logan. He gives you the ick.
"You can't do this to us!" you march right towards him with your arms crossed. "You said we'd get at least a year."
"Well, sorry," Mr. Beasley says. "Plans change."
"Why did it change?"
"Well, it was clear you wouldn't be able to pay back your mortgage on time so, we're just making things easier for you."
"This isn't fair! I demand you give us at least six more months like you promised. Please."
Mr. Beasley stalks toward you and says with a smug look on his face, "Well, I might be able to help you with that."
You sigh in relief, "Oh thank you."
"On one condition."
Just like that, your hope is gone. Mr. Beasley brushes your hair out of your face and places a hand on your shoulder. He suggestively says, "Meet me at my house at 7pm tonight, do as I say, and you can get what you want."
You instinctively slap his face hard and grit through your teeth, "Oh, you disgusting pig! Never!"
Mr. Beasley looks stunned, either by your rejection or the slap. He presses his hand to his cheek. His mood changes and he's more angry than ever. "Fine. Have it your way. You and your sister can starve in the street for all I care."
"How dare you talk about her that way! In fact, how heartless do you have to be to just allow a child to go homeless?"
"Well, it's clear you're not thinking of her well-being either. And you're her big sister. Where will you two go now, huh?"
You just storm off and get in the car. Once you're out of the sight of the creep and your childhood home, tears sting your eyes. It all just becomes too much. The exhaustion from working two jobs proves to be worthless. You lost your home anyway. And now, your sister won't have a place to live.
By the time you arrive at Logan's house, you're a sobbing mess. Both Charlotte and Laura run out to greet you, but immediately stop when they see your face.
"Y/N?" Charlotte asks. "What's wrong?" It shatters your heart to see her worry like this.
You collapse on your knees and try to hide your face so the girls won't see you're crying.
"What's going on?" You hear that familiar gruff voice. It brings a strange sense of comfort. Before you know it, Logan's finger is underneath your chin and lifting your gaze up to his. "Y/N, what's the matter?"
"We-we-" you cry out the words, "We got kicked out of our house."
Logan brings you into a hug and says softly, "I'm so sorry, darlin'."
All of it just becomes too much. The stress, along with the lack of sleep, makes your eyelids go heavy. But try as you might, you can't fall asleep because the tears just refuse to stop. Logan carefully scoops you up in your arms and carries you inside.
You have no clue where exactly you are. Your eyes are blurry from the tears. But what you do know is that Logan is now seated and you're curled up into his arms.
"Shhh, there, there," he murmurs. "I'm here, I got you, darlin'." He's rocking you back and forth and running his fingers through your hair. You hiccup from the excessive crying, and Logan pats you on the back.
You refuse to open your eyes. But he doesn't mind. Logan places a kiss on your temple. Then one on your cheek, his salt-and-pepper beard no doubt absorbing the tears. Logan carefully moves you so your back is right against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your middle.
Somehow, sleep finds you.
When you wake up, Logan is gone. And your head is pounding. You massage your temple but, shocker, it doesn't cure your headache. You hear a knock on the door.
"Come in!" Your voice sounds hoarse.
Logan creaks open the door. He gives you a faint smile as he fully enters the room. You see he has a cup of water in one and a pill in the other.
"Hey, darlin'," he says.
"Hi, Logan."
He sits down on the edge of the bed right beside your feet. But you desperately want him to be closer.
"Here you go," he says as he hands you the water and pill. "Just in case."
"Thank you, really need it." You gulp the pill down. The water feels so good as it trickles down your throat. "Where are the girls?"
"Preoccupied. They're worried about you, but I put on a movie to distract them for a bit. I'm worried about you, too. Ready to tell me what happened?"
You look at him. Logan has such a rugged appearance that whenever he looks affectionate, it's jarring. But you like it, especially when he places a hand on your knee and squeezes it. It isn't sexual in any way. It's comforting.
You sigh. You figure you might as well tell him now.
"Well, I came home after my shift at the diner to see a bunch of people moving our furniture out of the house. Then a man came out and said he---"
"Who was this man?"
You hesitate. You've told Logan about this man a few times. Told him about how he always acted like a creep. It makes your skin crawl. And it makes Logan burn with rage. You squeak out, "Mr. Beasley", and he stiffens. He grips your knee even tighter.
"That fucking son of a bitch," Logan gritted through his teeth. He tried to keep it to himself, but you definitely heard him. "Go on."
You're contemplating whether you want to tell Logan about what else happened. But you decide to anyway, "He told me---" It's hard to get out. But Logan moves closer to you and takes his hand in yours, an encouragement for you to take your time.
"He..." You sigh. "He had initially given me a year to pay the mortgage but he decided to cut it off early and evict us. But he told me he would let us have six more months if...if I came home with him and did what he wanted. Knowing him he probably wanted me to do something sexual."
Logan's grip on you tightens. You're unsure if it's from the protectiveness or the anger. Probably both.
"I rejected him," you're quick to say. "But...does that make me selfish? If I go back and do what he says, then Charlotte can have a..."
"Don't even say that." Logan cups your face in his hands. "You did the right thing. Rejecting that fucking creep. And Charlotte will have a roof over your head. The two of you can stay here as long as you like."
"We can?" You feel like you're about to cry again from how sweet he is being to you. "Thank you so much, Logan!"
You wrap your arms around him. Logan quickly reciprocates the hug.
"You get some good sleep?" he asks.
"After I sobbed like a baby for hours, yes I did."
Logan chuckles. "Good. You deserved it. Wanna come down and see the girls? They really have been worried about you."
The rest of the day is very relaxed. You just hang out with Logan, Charlotte, and Laura. You and your sister do have a private conversation about what is going to happen, and you promise her everything is going to be okay. Charlotte is sad that she won't be living at her house anymore. But when you tell her that she'll basically be having an extended sleepover with Laura, she feels a little bit better.
Then, after dinner, Logan announces that he has an errand to run. It's a bit confusing considering it's so late at night and he usually doesn't do late night uber drives on weekends. But you shrug it off and assume maybe he just picked up a shift to earn some extra money. He will be having four people living under his roof now.
You and the girls spend the rest of the evening playing board games. It's a bit embarrassing that you lose the Game of Life to two 11-year-olds. But it's still a great time. At least you win at Trivial Pursuit. Then again trivia was always more of your thing anyways.
The girls go to bed around 10pm, and you start to get concerned that Logan isn't back yet. You hope that he's not dead. For one thing, if he's dead, then you'll have to find a way to support yourself, Charlotte, and Laura. Second, you don't want the man you've grown fond of to die.
Around 11pm, you hear the door open. You hop up off the couch and rush to the main entrance. Logan leans his back against the door, rubbing the exhaustion off his face. You notice something: he's not wearing the same shirt as before. He's wearing a white tank top, which he does look scrumptious in. Your eyes trail down to a plastic bag that has red spots on it.
Did he---
"Logan!"
He's startled, but relaxes when he sees it's only you. "Hey darlin'. Girls asleep?"
"Yeah. I just stayed up to make sure you got home okay."
"Thanks. You're very sweet."
You smile at him calling you "sweet." You move so you're right in front of him. "I also wanted to thank you. For being so kind to me and Charlotte. You really don't need to, but you are, and I appreciate that."
"Of course, darlin'. You and Charlotte will live under my protection. You can stay here as long as you want." His knuckles trace your cheekbones. The feeling makes you tingle. His skin is so rough against yours.
"You've spent so long working to take care of your sister. To make sure she's safe. Well, darlin', you need someone to take care of you. And I'm gonna do that. I'm gonna protect you."
Before you even realize it, you're pressing a very quick kiss to his lips. Both you and Logan are stunned by this.
You quickly apologize. "Oh, Logan, that was...I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that...that was completely inappropriate I---"
And before you know it, his rough chapped lips are on yours. He drops the plastic bag to the floor so he can bring you closer to him. You kiss him back with everything you have. It's a kiss of gratitude.
A kiss to thank him for being your guardian angel.
Closing remarks...Where's my Logan? đ„ș I'll take any Logan! Just give me any Logan who will beat up a guy who hurts me and will take care of me!! I'm not religious anymore but please, God, please!!!
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. I enjoyed writing it đ I've wanted to write Old Man!Logan for a while so thank you so much for giving me some inspiration. I'd be down to write more for him in the future. Maybe some smut? đ
Thank you all so much for reading! Please let me know what you think. Send in your questions & comments either in the comments section or my inbox. I'd love to chat! All rude comments towards the story, the people who like this story, or me will be deleted. If you don't like it, then don't read. Don't forget to reblog and follow me @princessanglophile for updates and other content. Have a lovely day everybody!
Psst. Hey. You.
If anybody cares, I made a Character AI bot! It's a Logan Howlett x f!User bot, that takes place right after he dies in Logan.
I know it sounds complicated, but the intro explains everything. It's really cute, and really fluffy. Give it a shot, if you're interested!
Here's the link :)
https://character.ai/chat/jyZt5MBzxmE7PcDgJHp3YV5E4qwPL0bTBeqKFPjQgfc
âwe have old man logan at homeâ
Until I Found You
Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.
Word Count: 24.3k+
Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!teacher!reader
Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.
this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.
reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.
i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)
warnings: none!
The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyoneâs business.
A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You werenât sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But thatâs what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.
It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though youâve never seen Lauraâs mother, so perhaps that explains why.
Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least thatâs what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while sheâs visited the principalâs office at least 9 times since sheâs been here, you still canât help but see her as a cute little girl whoâs been through something traumatic, whatever it was.
You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacherâs class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.
Emma leaned close to you, âthis is my favorite part of the day, you know.â
âYeah, I think itâs everyoneâs favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.â You replied.
âIt used to be that, but nowâŠâ Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, âthere arenât a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But heâs a great new addition.â
You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.
"Come on, youâve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "Heâs like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."
"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."
You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didnât mind or didnât care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beardâhe was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.
Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, youâre not even the least bit curious about him?"
"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.
Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."
You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."
Just then, you noticed Loganâs truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.
"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.
He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."
"Hey," you replied, casually. You werenât about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.
Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.
"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.
You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."
She gave a small nod before taking Loganâs hand. He didnât say much else, just a simple âthanksâ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.
"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, youâve got a little thing for him, don't you?"
You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."
Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldnât help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theoriesâsome more ridiculous than othersâbut youâd always figured it wasnât your place to pry.
As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didnât bother youâit reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.
Emmaâs voice pulled you back to the present. "So, whatâs your plan for the evening?"
You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"
"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldnât have been surprised if she wasnât kidding.
You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."
As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldnât help but glance over at Loganâs truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.
You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You werenât sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasnât entirely wrong.
Not that youâd ever admit that to her.
---
Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.
So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.
Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerryâs sâmores. âFuck.â You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the sâmores.
You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.
"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."
Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.
You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.
He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess theyâre out, huh?"
"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.
Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."
You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? Whatâs your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"
He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose⊠probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."
You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."
His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simpleâs the best option."
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."
He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You werenât sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasnât healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.
Instead, you went for something safer. "Lauraâs doing well in class, by the way. Sheâs sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."
He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, sheâs a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesnât talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."
Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that sheâd let her guard down even a little with you meant more than youâd expected. "Well, sheâs a good kid. I try not to push her too much."
Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and⊠oddly seen.
"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "Iâll let you get back to your shopping. Iâm sure youâve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."
He gave a small grunt that mightâve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldnât be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."
"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."
He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."
You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldnât help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about himâsomething rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.
---
The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.
As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.
"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.
You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."
"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"
Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?
"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.
"Oh, I donât know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.
You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"
"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didnât you? Come on, spill!"
You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. Thatâs it."
"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.
"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."
Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."
You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."
Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."
"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."
"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.
---
The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. Sheâd finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.
During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.
"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"
She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."
You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.
"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, Iâm here," you said gently.
She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."
You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasnât one for big emotional outburstsâat least not around youâbut you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.
"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he donât like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"
Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."
"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, Iâm officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."
Laura didnât laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasnât much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that youâd at least gotten her to relax.
---
The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Loganâs truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you werenât paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.
"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.
"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.
Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.
"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.
"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.
Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldnât help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasnât your place to pry.
Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "Youâre so not fooling anyone."
You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."
Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And Iâm going to enjoy every minute of it."
As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldnât help but glance over at Loganâs truck one more time as it drove away. Emmaâs teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldnât completely dismiss what she was saying.
Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you werenât about to admit that to anyoneânot even yourself.
---
Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You werenât going to go to âMavinâs Oil Changeâ, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years youâve been doing it yourself.
It wasnât difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.
You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.
You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.
"Didnât peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."
You turned your head and were met with Loganâs familiar gravelly voice. There he was againâof all places, heâd found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.
"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"
Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."
"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess Iâll stick with what I know too, then."
He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured youâd be one to overthink it. Syntheticâs not all itâs cracked up to be."
You chuckled. "Iâll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."
He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of niceâquiet, comfortable in a way you wouldnât have expected.
You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"
Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but⊠this town ainât exactly got a lot going on."
"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if sheâs interested. I know she likes plants."
Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if youâd crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "Sheâd probably like that."
"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadnât messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."
He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.
"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "Iâm starting to think youâre stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"
Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure itâs the other way around."
You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, Iâm just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."
"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.
You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasnât always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.
"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."
"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.
As you walked toward the checkout, you couldnât help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasnât any awkwardness or forced conversationâjust two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than youâd like to admit.
---
Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didnât like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.
A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.
The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, âella te gusta,â she said softly.
He let out a huff, âkid, I donât know how many times I have to tell you, but I donât know Spanish.â
Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Loganâs chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didnât say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.
He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.
After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. âYou should go help her.â
Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. âSheâs fine. Knows what sheâs doinâ.â
Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. âYouâre always saying people shouldnât be doinâ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?â
âYeah, but sheâs not helpless,â he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.
Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. âStill think you should.â
Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like youâd handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.
âWhat are you drawing?â he asked, trying to change the subject.
Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plantâa vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.
âThat for Ms. Aberra?â Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.
âMaybe.â She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. âShe likes plants. Thought sheâd like this.â
Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasnât about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why heâd noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasnât his style.
âWhy donât you go show her?â Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.
Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. âMaybe later. Sheâs busy.â
Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didnât push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasnât in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.
A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.
You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.â You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.
The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. âSheâs been dying to see you again,â she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.
"Well, Iâm always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?â
The girl shrugged. âYeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.â
You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, itâs hard to decide.â
The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. âDoing your own oil change?â
"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."
She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldnât even know where to start."
âYouâd be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,â you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.
The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I donât mess up my car in the process.â
You laughed. "Thatâs what the tutorials are for. But yeah, itâs not too bad. Youâd get the hang of it."
As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. âWell, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.â
âSame here,â the girl replied, tugging gently on Junoâs leash. âCâmon, girl. Letâs get home.â
You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.
Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then sheâd glance up at him with that same look.
âSheâs done now,â Laura said after a moment, still sketching.
âI can see that,â Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.
âStill think you should go help,â she added, not even bothering to look up this time.
Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didnât need to helpâyou were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. Youâd done it all yourself, like you didnât need anyoneâs help. He couldnât quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.
âKid, you sure know how to push buttons,â he muttered under his breath.
Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.
Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. âStay here.â
He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.
âYou done already?â he called out, making his presence known.
You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. âYeah, just finished up,â you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. âWhat about you? Something break down?â
âNah, just figured Iâd see if you needed any help,â he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasnât exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.
You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. âYou offering to help after the jobâs already done?â
"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.
You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, Iâll be sure to save the hardest part for you."
"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"
"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. âI went on a few dates with Mavinâs son the first few months I was here and didnât go over well. Now he overcharges me.â You held up your hands, âbut if itâs something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.â
Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."
You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."
Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like youâpeople who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.
"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the jobâs already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."
He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."
That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."
"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesnât open up to many people. But you... youâre different."
You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "Iâm glad she feels comfortable around me. Sheâs been through a lot."
Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.
You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.
"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."
You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "Iâll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I donât know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."
He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."
You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.
---
During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.
The way heâd offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followedâit was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didnât know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.
A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.
âSo,â she started, stepping inside your classroom. âI hear youâre making friends with a certain someone across the street.â
You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz youâd been half-grading. âIâm not âmaking friends.â We just happen to run into each other.â
Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. âMhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?â
"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.
Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, youâre not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? Itâs hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."
You sighed, rubbing your temple. "Itâs not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Lauraâ"
Emmaâs grin widened. "Ah, Laura. Thatâs the key, isnât it? Iâve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesnât warm up to just anyone. Sheâs a little... prickly, but with you? Sheâs different."
"Sheâs a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "Sheâs been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone whoâs not... intimidating."
"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you canât tell me there isnât something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesnât exactly strike me as the âfriendly neighborâ type. More like âleave me alone or Iâll stab you with my clawsâ type."
You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, heâs not exactly Mr. Rogers. But itâs not like weâre... you know, itâs justâ"
"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.
"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "Itâs just friendly. Heâs Lauraâs dad, and weâve talked a few times, but thatâs it."
Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And Iâm the Queen of England."
You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"
"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "itâs about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."
"I have a life," you protested.
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"
You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didnât have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "itâs been a while. But that doesnât meanâ"
"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, Iâm not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? Heâs clearly interested. And I think you are too."
"Okay⊠even if I was interested, Iâm pretty sure a guy like that doesnât have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.
Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Donât sell yourself short. Youâre smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks youâre worth his time. Heâs not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."
You sighed, crossing your arms. "Itâs not that simple. You know what heâs been through. And Laura... sheâs been through so much already. Iâm not about to mess with their lives."
Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. Sheâs practically glued to your side when youâre around. And Logan? Heâs different with you. I see it."
You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Lauraâs nice to me, yeah. But that doesnât mean anything. Sheâs indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I donât even know if she likes me, or if itâs just... I donât know."
"She doesnât warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "Youâre different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. Thatâs not something that happens often with them. Theyâre... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."
You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was trueâshe was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. Sheâd even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.
Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, itâs not like heâs the type to be thinking about relationships. The manâs got enough on his plate. And me? Iâve got work, and... Iâm not exactly relationship material."
Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, itâs you. Youâve spent so long taking care of everyone elseâyour students, your job. Maybe itâs time to let someone take care of you for a change."
You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"
She smirked. "He already is. Heâs just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? Thereâs more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."
Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."
You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?
As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.
---
Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of dayâthe quiet, the calm.
Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.
"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.
You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? Iâm just pulling weeds."
He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesnât hurt to have an extra set of hands."
You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if youâre up for it."
Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.
Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Lauraâs been doing well in class. Sheâs quiet, but I think sheâs starting to come out of her shell a bit."
Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? Thatâs good to hear. She doesnât talk much at home either."
"Sheâs a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."
Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Sheâs been through a lot. Trust doesnât come easy for her."
You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"
He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than Iâve felt in a long time."
That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadnât anticipated.
"Thatâs good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "Iâm glad."
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Loganâs presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.
Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what youâve done for Laura. She doesnât trust many people, but with you... itâs different."
You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Iâm just doing my job. Sheâs a good kid, like I said."
Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Itâs more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."
Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.
"Logan, Iâ"
Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, Iâll let you get back to it."
You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."
He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."
As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it nowâthere was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.
---
Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your studentsâ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldnât understand why an email didnât suffice.
Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.
The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes youâd organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.
You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasnât exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the sameâpractical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.
You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.
âMs. Aberra,â Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.
âLogan,â you said, smiling at Laura. âAnd Laura. How are you two doing?â
Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.
âDidnât expect to see you here,â you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. âLauraâs doing fine in class. Really, thereâs not much to talk about.â
Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. âFigured Iâd come by anyway. See how things are goinâ.â
You nodded, pulling up Lauraâs grades on your tablet. âWell, like I said, sheâs doing great. Sheâs one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell sheâs always thinking.â
Lauraâs face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.
âSheâs got potential,â you continued, looking at Logan. âEspecially in science. I think sheâd be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.â
Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. âThatâs good to hear.â
Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. âI like science. And math.â
You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. âWell, youâre really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitionsâstuff like that. It might be fun.â
Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. âUp to you, kid.â
She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. âMaybe.â
âWell, no pressure,â you said, trying to keep it casual. âYou can always decide later.â
There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Lauraâs grades, though there wasnât much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldnât help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what sheâd been through.
âSo, uh, anything else you need to know?â you asked, looking back up at Logan.
He shook his head. âJust wanted to check in, make sure sheâs on track.â
You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didnât show it. âSheâs doing great. Really.â
Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. âThanks.â
You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didnât stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.
âAre you... friends?â she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.
You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.
âWell,â you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. âI guess you could say that.â
Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. âYeah. Somethinâ like that.â
Lauraâs eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didnât quite believe it but wasnât going to argue. âOkay.â
She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. âSee you around,â he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.
You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions againâthe warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didnât mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasnât such a bad thing after all.
Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. âCreo que ella te gusta.â
He let out a huff, âkid, donât know how many times I gotta say it, but I donât know Spanish.â
Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.
Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driverâs seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasnât uncomfortable, but it wasnât quite easy either.
He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. Sheâd always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him tooâa feeling he wasnât used to and didnât quite know how to handle.
âYou like her,â Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasnât a question.
Loganâs grip tightened on the steering wheel. âSheâs a good teacher. You like her, too.â
âThatâs not what I meant,â Laura said, crossing her arms. âYou act different when sheâs around. You donât growl as much.â
Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. âI donât growl.â
âYes, you do,â Laura said, looking out the window. âBut not at her.â
He didnât know how to respond to that, so he didnât. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasnât a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than heâd like to admit.
âI like her,â Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.
Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didnât trust people easily, and she certainly didnât like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.
âYeah?â he asked, his voice softer than usual.
Laura nodded, still looking out the window. âSheâs not like the others. She doesnât treat me like Iâm different.â
Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasnât sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didnât say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.
---
The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.
After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.
Even with that said, you couldnât help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.
You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadnât memorized the recipe after making it for years.
The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. Youâd never say it to her, sheâd probably leave if you said she looked cute.
âHey, Laura. Dâyou need anything?â
âDaddy said I could help with the garden.â She spoke softly.
âOof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.â You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, âthough, I could use some help making cookies.â
Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but youâd learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didnât fully get why.
âOkay,â she finally said, stepping past you into the house.
You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. âYou ever make cookies before?â you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.
Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.
âWell, todayâs your lucky day. Iâm about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.â You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. âCan you hand me the brown sugar?â
She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasnât used to this kind of thingânormal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but youâd heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadnât had a typical upbringing.
As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasnât the chatty type, and you didnât want to push her too much.
âSo,â you started, keeping your tone casual, âwhatâs Logan up to today?â
She shrugged. âResting.â
You raised an eyebrow but didnât push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew heâd been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasnât the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasnât what it used to be.
Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.
âYou wanna stir?â you asked, offering her the spatula.
She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldnât help but smile as she focused on the task.
âNice job,â you said, giving her a thumbs-up. âYouâve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.â
Laura didnât react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.
As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. âBest part of making cookiesâsneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.â You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.
She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasnât sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.
You chuckled. âSee? Told you itâs the best part.â
Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasnât uncomfortable, just⊠quiet. You didnât mind it, though. Laura wasnât the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.
As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didnât know what exactly sheâd been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.
When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. âAlmost done,â you said. âThen itâs just a waiting game while they bake.â
Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.
You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. âYou want some water or anything while we wait?â
She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.
âWell, Iâm grabbing a drink.â You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. âItâll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.â
Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.
You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You werenât exactly sure why sheâd taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didnât let many people in, that much was obvious.
âI can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethinâ while I wait.â
Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. âMusic,â she said quietly.
You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. âCool. Letâs see what we got.â You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.
Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasnât fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.
You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. âYou ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?â
She shook her head. âNo.â
You figured as much. âWell, if he ever asks, youâll be a pro now.â You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.
You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasnât awkward, just⊠peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the airâLoganâs health, Lauraâs past, whatever weight she carried that you didnât fully understand yet.
After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. âI talked to Logan about you⊠last night.â
You paused, surprised sheâd bring it up. âOh yeah? Whatâd he say?â
She didnât answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. âHe said youâre... different from other people. In a good way.â
A warmth crept into your chest at that. âWell, thatâs nice of him to say. I think heâs pretty different too, you know. In a good way.â
Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. âHe likes you,â she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.
You felt your cheeks heat up a little. âYeah? Well⊠I like him too.â
She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. âHe doesnât trust people. But he trusts you.â
You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. âIâm glad he does. I mean⊠I care about him, Laura. And you too.â
Lauraâs eyes flickered with somethingâmaybe understanding, maybe something else you couldnât quite name. She didnât say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.
Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.
âCookies are done,â you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. âWanna taste test one?â
Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.
You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. âCareful, itâs hot.â
She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.
âGood, right?â you asked, biting into one yourself.
Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.
As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didnât know all of Lauraâs story, but you didnât need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.
âSo,â you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. âWhat should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?â
Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. âMore cookies.â
You grinned. âGood choice. Letâs make this batch even better.â
---
After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?
You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she movedâso quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.
When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.
âYou were gone a while,â he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.
Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. âMade cookies.â
Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didnât do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. âWith Y/N?â he asked, taking another sip.
Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.
Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.
âNot bad,â he muttered, glancing at Laura. âYou help with these?â
She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didnât go unnoticed by Logan.
âHmm,â he grunted, leaning back. âMaybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash âem down.â
Laura didnât smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Loganâs thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didnât trust people easilyânever had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. Heâd seen how she handled Laura, how she didnât push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didnât have much of.
âY/Nâs a good one,â he said quietly, almost to himself.
Laura didnât say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.
Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasnât really in his nature, but for Lauraâs sakeâand maybe a bit for his ownâhe was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didnât want to admit it.
âShe ask about me?â Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.
Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. âYeah. I told her you were resting.â
Logan snorted. âResting. Thatâs a nice way of putting it.â
Laura didnât respond, and Logan didnât push further. He knew what Y/N probably thoughtâthat he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didnât know the half of it. But she didnât pry either, and for that, he was grateful.
âGuess Iâll have to thank her for the cookies,â Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/Nâthe way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasnât just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.
âShe likes you too, you know,â Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.
Loganâs brow furrowed. âWhat?â
âY/N,â Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. âShe likes you.â
Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. âYou donât know that, kid.â
Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. âShe does. I can tell.â
Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didnât waste time with pleasantries.
He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. âYeah, well⊠thatâs her problem, not mine.â
Laura didnât react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.
Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Lauraâs words hanging in the air. He wasnât used to people âlikingâ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.
He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasnât worth thinking about. Not right now.
But even as he chewed in silence, he couldnât shake the thought of Y/Nâand what it might mean if Laura was right.
---
A few days later, you found yourself at Loganâs house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually donât make âhouse callsâ to help students, but you couldnât deny Laura.
Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.
âYouâre doing good, Laura.â You said.
Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. âCan you stay for dinner?â She asked you.
Loganâs head snapped up at that. He hadnât expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, âI made something. With Logan.â
That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.
Y/N smiled softly. âI wouldnât say no to dinner.â She glanced at Logan. âIf thatâs okay?â
Logan grunted, shifting his weight. âYeah. âCourse.â
Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. âGuess Iâm staying for dinner, then.â
Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. âItâs nothing fancy,â she said, which wasnât reassuring.
âWell, Iâm excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,â you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.
Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldnât help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasnât quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.
âSo, whatâs on the menu?â you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.
Laura, sitting across from you, didnât answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Loganâs eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.
âSpaghetti,â she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.
You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. âOh yeah? Sounds good.â
Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when theyâd supposedly made spaghetti. But he didnât contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.
âWell, Iâm looking forward to it,â you said, standing up from the kitchen table. âLet me know if you need any help.â
Laura didnât say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadnât done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with herâand Loganâyou werenât about to complain.
âIâll get the sauce going,â you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.
Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadnât expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.
âSo, howâs school?â you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.
âItâs fine,â she said, her tone noncommittal.
You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. âWell, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.â
She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. âI know.â
The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasnât long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.
Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. âNeed me to do anything?â
You glanced back at him with a smile. âJust sit there and look pretty, Logan. Weâve got this.â
A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didnât change much. âThat so?â
Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.
Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.
As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasnât one of those forced silences that felt awkwardâit was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.
âYou did good, Laura,â you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. âThis tastes great.â
She didnât say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.
Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadnât been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. âNot bad,â he said quietly.
You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasnât exactly what youâd planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own wayâjust simple, like normal people having dinner together.
As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. âIâll handle the cleanup,â he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.
You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. âYou sure?â
Logan waved you off. âYeah. Laura and I got it.â
You nodded, stepping back. âAlright, Iâll leave you to it then.â
Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasnât used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didnât mind having you around for it.
âWell,â you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. âThanks for dinner, you two. Iâll see you around?â
Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.
Before you could leave, she spoke up. âWill you come over again?â Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
You smiled softly. âOf course. Anytime.â
She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadnât been there before.
You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldnât help but think about how unexpected this had all been.
---
You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.
So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didnât want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.
Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. âSoâŠâ
You rolled your eyes, âdonât start.â
âWhat! Iâve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavinâ his house last night.â
âRose?â You shook your head, âthat woman is 85 and still gossips like sheâs 20.â You put your phone down, âI was helping Laura with her English homework.â
"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."
You groaned, leaning back in your chair. âIt wasnât like that. Sheâs struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Loganâs... well, you know heâs not exactly the best person for that.â
âUh-huh,â Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. âIâm just saying, you and him⊠thereâs something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.â
âPeople need hobbies,â you muttered. âBesides, Loganâs... complicated. Itâs not that simple.â
âIâm not saying it is,â she shrugged. âBut youâve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. Iâm just curious.â
You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. âCurious about what, exactly?â
âJust curious when you're going to admit you like him,â Emma smirked.
âI donâtâ" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. âEmma, heâs⊠I mean, I care about him, but itâs not like that. Heâs a single dad with a kid, and Iâm just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.â
âYeah, sure, Y/N.â Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, âif you donât make a move, someone on the âWolverine Watchersâ will.â
You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, âthe what?â
Emma grinned, âthe âWolverine Watchersâ. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.â
You blinked at Emma, still processing what sheâd just said. âHold onâthereâs a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?â
âDead serious,â Emma said with a smug smile. âThey call themselves the âWolverine Watchers.â Thereâs, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.â
You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. âThatâs insane. Why would anyone even...â
âOh, please,â Emma interrupted. âDonât act like you donât get it. Heâs rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and heâs got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.â
You glared at her. âYouâre not helping.â
She leaned against the desk, still grinning. âJust saying, donât wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.â
You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. âLoganâs not interested in any of that.â
Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. âMaybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?â
You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. âOkay. Iâm going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.â
Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. âFine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.â
She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. âYou need help?â Laura finally asked.
You shook your head, âno. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakinâ.â
Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. âWhy donât you ask daddy?â
You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. âBecause your dadâs busy, and itâs not his problem to deal with. Iâll figure it out.â
âHe fixed the dishwasher last week,â she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. âAnd the dryer.â
âYeah, but I donât want to bother him with stuff like this,â you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. âIâm sure heâs got enough on his plate.â
Laura didnât respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. âHe likes helping,â she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.
You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. âIs that so?â
âMhm,â she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. âHeâs good at fixing things.â
You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. âOkay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesnât need to be the townâs go-to handyman.â
Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. âJust tell him. Please?â
There was something almost⊠hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasnât the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to herâŠ
âFine,â you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. âIâll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.â
Lauraâs lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. âThank you.â
âYouâre welcome, but youâre not off the hook yet,â you teased gently. âYou still owe me an essay on Newtonâs laws of motion, remember?â
She scrunched up her nose, making a face. âI know. Iâll finish it.â
âGood,â you nodded, giving her a playful wink. âAnd donât go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?â
Lauraâs eyes widened in mock innocence. âI would never.â
âUh-huh,â you said skeptically. âAlright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.â
She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. âHe really likes you, you know.â
Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. âLauraââ
âJust saying,â she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.
You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?
You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was⊠well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, heâd been more present lately, but that didnât mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.
You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadnât even finished setting up for the afternoon class.
âGuess Iâll ask him about the sink,â you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.
Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?
---
That evening, after school had ended and youâd finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Loganâs place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.
You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voicesâLaura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was⊠nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.
âJust ask about the sink and go,â you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. âNo big deal.â
You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attireâflannel shirt, jeansâand he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.
âHey,â you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. âI, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.â
His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. âWhatâs goinâ on?â
You hesitated, then took a deep breath. âMy kitchen sink started leaking, and⊠well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said youâre good at this kind of stuff, so I thought⊠maybeâŠâ
Logan raised an eyebrow. âYou want me to take a look at it?â
âYeah,â you nodded quickly. âIf youâre not too busy. I donât want toââ
âItâs fine,â he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. âLetâs go.â
You blinked. âWait, you donât want to, like, finish dinner or something first?â
He shot you a look that was almost amused. âIâm not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. Câmon.â
You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. âOkay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.â
âNo problem,â he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. âLead the way.â
As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but youâd come to learn there was more to him than that.
When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.
âYou didnât have to come over right away,â you said softly, breaking the silence. âI know youâve got a lot going on.â
He didnât look up, just shrugged. âItâs fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.â
âYeah, I guess,â you murmured. âBut still⊠thanks.â
Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. âYou donât gotta thank me every time I do somethinâ for you, Y/N.â
âI know,â you replied, offering a small smile. âBut I want to.â
He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.
âYouâve done this before, huh?â you asked, breaking the silence again.
Logan didnât look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. âCouple times.â
âFixing sinks?â you teased, raising an eyebrow. âOr just everything?â
âEverything,â he muttered. âYou learn to handle stuff when no one else can.â
There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didnât pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let onâthere were pieces of his life you still hadnât put together, and you werenât sure you ever would. But that didnât stop you from being curious.
Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. âWell, I appreciate it. I probably wouldâve made a bigger mess if Iâd kept trying.â
He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldnât help but chuckle.
âOkay, I walked into that one,â you admitted. âBut seriously, thank you. Laura was rightâyou are good at this.â
Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. âShe talks too much sometimes.â
You shook your head, still smiling. âSheâs just proud of you.â
He didnât respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. âItâs done. Shouldnât leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.â
You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. âGot it. Thanks again.â
Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.
âLogan?â
He paused, his back to you.
âI meant what I said earlier,â you continued, a little more quietly this time. âI know youâve got a lot on your plate, and I donât want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.â
Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyesâsomething you couldnât quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.
âDonât worry about it, Y/N,â he finally said. âIf you need somethinâ, Iâll be around.â
He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.
Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next dayâs lessons, you couldnât stop replaying the interaction in your head. Loganâs quietness, his willingness to help, Lauraâs knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.
But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you⊠well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasnât the time to start overthinking things.
Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sinkâfocused, calm, and oddly comfortingâstayed with you.
---
Youâve never liked storms. Youâre not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.
But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.
It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.
You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.
The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers youâd set aside to grade, but your mind just wasnât in it.
âWhy does it always feel worse at night?â you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.
Then, a knock at the door startled you. You werenât expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.
You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.
âLaura? What are you doing out here?â you asked, eyes wide with concern.
âOur power went out,â she explained quickly, shivering slightly. âDaddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.â
You frowned, glancing past her toward Loganâs house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. âIs your dad coming over too?â
Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. âHe said heâd figure it out.â
You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. âYou shouldâve just called, you know. I wouldâve come to get you.â
Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. âItâs fine. I didnât want to wait.â
You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. âOf course you didnât.â
The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.
âHow longâs the power been out?â you asked after a few minutes.
âSince just after dinner,â she replied. âDaddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.â
You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didnât come back on soon, youâd probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didnât want to impose. Especially with Logan.
Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.
You didnât even have to look to know it was Logan.
You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.
âCome on in,â you said quickly, stepping aside.
Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. âThanks. Powerâs out, and I donât think itâs cominâ back anytime soon.â
You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.
âYou alright with us beinâ here?â he asked, his voice low but genuine.
âOf course,â you replied, waving it off. âIâm not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.â
Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyesâsomething like gratitude, though he didnât voice it.
The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasnât exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasnât awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasnât one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.
As the night wore on, the storm didnât let up, and Lauraâs eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.
âYouâre welcome to stay the night,â you offered, glancing between them. âItâs still coming down pretty hard out there, and I donât think the powerâs coming back on soon.â
Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. âWeâll be fine,â he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. âDonât wanna impose.â
âYouâre not imposing,â you said firmly, crossing your arms. âThereâs a guest bedroom, and Iâve got blankets. Besides, Iâm not letting either of you walk back in this mess.â
Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. âI want to stay,â she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.
Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. âLauraâŠâ
âDaddy, itâs still storming,â she added, her voice soft but insistent. âWe can stay, right?â
You jumped in before he could refuse. âItâs no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.â
Logan gave you a skeptical look. âYouâre not sleepinâ on the couch in your own house.â
You rolled your eyes. âItâs not a big deal.â
âItâs your bed,â he grunted. âIâll take the couch.â
Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. âYou could both sleep in the bed.â
Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.
âLaura,â you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.
âWhat?â she said innocently. âItâs a big bed.â
Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. âYouâre not helpinâ, kid.â
Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. âI think I am.â
You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. âIâm fine with sleepinâ on the couch, really. Canât really sleep when itâs storminâ anyways.â
Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. âYou could just share the bed.â
Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. âLauraââ
âWhat?â She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.
Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. âKid, stop messinâ around.â
She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didnât budge. âIâm just saying itâs an option.â
You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. âLaura, youâre gonna sleep in the guest room. Iâll be on the couch. End of story.â
Laura rolled her eyes but didnât argue. âFine.â
Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, âYou sure about this? I donât wanna take your bed.â
You waved him off, trying to sound casual. âSeriously, itâs no big deal. Just get some rest. Youâve been out in the rain long enough.â
He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. âAlright. But only because you wonât stop arguinâ.â
âExactly,â you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. âYou can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.â
Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.
âYou can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,â you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.
Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didnât.
After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. âYou really are stubborn, you know that?â
You raised an eyebrow. âTakes one to know one.â
He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. âFair enough.â
Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.
You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.
Laura had probably planned this all along.
You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleepâor if she was lying there, scheming her next move.
Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.
You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasnât coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.
A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. Youâd thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.
Just when you started to think youâd be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.
âCanât sleep?â you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.
He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. âNot used to sleepinâ anywhere but my own bed.â
You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. âYeah, I get that. Stormâs not helping much either.â
Loganâs eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. âYou alright? Heard you jumpinâ every time the thunder hits.â
You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. âItâs nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.â
âYeah, I noticed,â Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. âDonât have to tough it out, yâknow.â
You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasnât like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.
âGuess Iâm just used to toughing it out,â you said softly, offering him a small smile.
Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. âYou donât always have to. Not with us.â
The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You werenât sure what to say. This side of Loganâthe quiet, protective sideâwas something youâd only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.
âYou donât have to worry about me,â you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.
âNot worryinâ,â Logan replied, his gaze steady. âJust statinâ a fact.â
The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Loganâs eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.
But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. âIf you want... thereâs room in the bed.â
Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. âWhat?â
Loganâs lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. âI ainât suggestinâ what Laura was earlier,â he muttered, a little embarrassed. âJust... if it helps you sleep better, I donât mind. Couchâs not exactly comfortable.â
Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasnât the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with himâplatonically or notâmade your pulse quicken.
âIââ You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasnât just about the storm or being polite. This was about something moreâsomething that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.
Before you could overthink it, you nodded. âOkay.â
Loganâs eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortableâmore like an understanding had settled between you.
Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasnât racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.
The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.
âYou good?â Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.
âYeah,â you whispered. âIâm good.â
A beat passed. Then another.
âThanks,â you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.
Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. âAinât nothinâ.â
But it was something. It was a lot, actually.
You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.
Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Loganâs voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.
âI meant what I said earlier,â he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. âYou donât have to do this on your own. Not with us around.â
Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you werenât quite ready to confront just yet. You didnât know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.
Logan didnât pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.
---
You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.
This was new.
You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like thisâcalm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where heâd held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.
Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Lauraâs room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.
You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last nightâs sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.
In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way heâd stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of itâit meant more than you wanted to admit.
The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.
âYouâre up early,â Loganâs gravelly voice broke the quiet.
You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.
âCouldnât sleep much after the storm,â you shrugged, offering him a small smile. âCoffee?â
âYeah,â he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. âThanks.â
You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.
Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. âYou sleep alright?â
You hesitated, remembering how easily youâd fallen asleep next to him. âBetter than I expected, honestly.â
He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. âGuess the storm wasnât as bad as you thought.â
You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. âOr maybe it was the company.â
Loganâs smirk widened slightly, but he didnât push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. âThanks for lettinâ us stay. Laura didnât give you much choice, huh?â
âShe didnât have to,â you replied with a shrug. âI wasnât gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.â
Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. âPower should be back on soon. Iâll head back once itâs up.â
You didnât say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadnât had many moments like thisâquiet, with just the two of youâand you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.
Lauraâs quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
âMorninâ, kid,â Logan greeted her.
âMorninâ,â Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. âIs the power back on yet?â
âNot yet,â you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.
Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. âGuess weâre stuck here a little longer, huh?â
You shot her a look, but she didnât seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.
âSo, whatâs the plan for today?â you asked, trying to shift the conversation.
Laura perked up at that. âYou said youâd help me with my English homework, remember?â
You blinked. âIâuh, right. Yeah, I did say that.â
Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. âSince when do you need help with English?â
Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. âI figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.â
You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. âIâm sure youâre doing fine in English, Laura.â
She shrugged, playing with her spoon. âYeah, but itâs better when someone explains it.â
Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didnât say anything, letting Lauraâs little game play out.
âWell,â you said, getting up from the table. âI guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.â
Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. âThanks, Ms. Aberra.â
You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didnât need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.
âAlright,â you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. âGo grab your stuff, and weâll take a look.â
Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?
Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a lookâone eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.
âShe really roped you into this, huh?â he asked, voice low and rough.
You shrugged, trying to seem casual. âItâs not a big deal. Iâm used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.â
âYeah, but Laura? She doesnât ask for help unless sheâs got some kind of angle.â
You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasnât just a smart kidâshe was calculating. Youâd seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.
âI guess Iâll find out,â you said, leaning back into the couch.
Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay sheâd written didnât have a single correction or revision mark.
âAlright,â you began, pretending you didnât see the perfection in front of you. âWhat do you need help with?â
Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. âI just wanted to know if the introductionâs strong enough.â
You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything youâd expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.
âItâs good,â you said slowly. âYour thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, itâs solid.â
Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.
Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasnât quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasnât saying anything.
Laura glanced at her dad. âMs. Aberraâs a pretty good teacher, donât you think?â
Loganâs eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. âYeah, Iâd say so.â
You gave Laura a suspicious look. âYouâre not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?â
Lauraâs eyes widened in mock innocence. âNo. I just like the way you explain things.â
âMhm.â You werenât buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.
The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Lauraâs pencil against her notebook. It felt⊠peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.
âAlright, well,â you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. âLooks like youâve got this handled, Laura. I donât think you need much help.â
Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. âThanks anyway.â
You caught the look she sent Loganâs way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didnât need your help with homeworkâshe was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.
Smart kid.
Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.
"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "Whatâs the plan today?"
You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Youâre the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."
Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since weâre stuck here."
Logan gave her a look, but didnât say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"
Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "Iâll ask nicely. Maybe youâll cover it."
You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."
Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."
"Hey, Iâm a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.
Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you againâshe was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasnât exactly a hardship.
Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "Youâre sure you donât mind us hanging around?"
You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldnât have let you in. Youâre both always welcome here."
For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting itâmaybe even appreciating it, though heâd never say that out loud. "Thanks."
You shrugged, trying to act like it wasnât a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Donât mention it."
Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "Iâll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "Iâm starving."
You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think weâve got time for that before the power comes back on?"
Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."
"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.
Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesnât eat the place out of food while we wait."
You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Lauraâs not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasnât rushed or forced. Just... right.
Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.
Logan gave her a look. "We havenât even decided where weâre going."
"Iâll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.
You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.
"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Letâs get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."
Laura grinned but didnât say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.
You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like thatâwatching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.
You couldnât help but smile. She was good. Really good.
And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.
---
The school did something special for parents on Valentineâs Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.
There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.
Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parentâs names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.
âSo⊠whoâs sitting out?â Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.
You chewed your lip, staring at the list. âLooks like weâve got one extra parent. Iâm not sure yet.â
Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. âWhat about Logan?â
You paused, looking at the list. Loganâs name was there, as was Lauraâs, but you hesitated. He wasnât exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while heâd been involved in Lauraâs life, you werenât sure heâd want to participate in something like this.
âYeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.â You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, âIâll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.â
As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.
Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.
You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasnât exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentineâs Day competition, but you couldnât help but think maybe heâd want to give it a shot for Laura.
Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didnât sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You werenât even sure if heâd show up.
When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.
âEverything okay?â you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.
Laura nodded. âYeah, just thinking.â
âThinking about the competition?â You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.
âSomething like that.â
Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. âLogan didnât strike me as the âcompetitionâ type. But who knows?â
You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.
âYouâre here,â you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. âDidnât think youâd make it.â
Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. âLaura signed us up. Thought Iâd better show.â
Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasnât about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.
âRight,â you said, glancing down at the clipboard. âWell, thereâs an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe youâd sit out.â
Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. âOr you could partner with someone else.â
You blinked at her, caught off guard. âWell, yeah, I guess, but we donât really haveââ
âYou could partner with Daddy.â Laura said it so simply, like it wasnât a big deal, like she hadnât been plotting this for weeks.
Loganâs eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didnât say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.
You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. âIâI donât know if thatâs a good idea...â
Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. âItâs just for the competition. Besides, itâll be fun.â
Loganâs gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. âItâs just a game, right? Weâll survive.â
Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. âLooks like youâre stuck with Logan, Y/N.â
You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with himâespecially with Laura being the mastermind behind itâwas another.
âOkay, fine,â you muttered, trying to act like this wasnât a big deal at all. âI guess weâll partner up.â
Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. âLetâs get this over with.â
Lauraâs eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.
As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.
"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.
You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."
Loganâs lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you donât keep up."
"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "Youâre the one with the bum leg."
Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "Iâll manage."
Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.
"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.
"As Iâll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.
The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Loganâs as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrousâLoganâs longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.
"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.
Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."
"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in syncâwell, mostly. Loganâs hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.
"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.
"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "Iâm pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."
"Couldâve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnât deny the way your heart was still racingâthough you werenât sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.
Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.
"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."
Logan grunted in agreement but didnât say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his faceâsomething you hadnât seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.
"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.
You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldnât help but laugh. "Oh, thisâll be fun."
Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didnât protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.
"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.
Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."
"Letâs see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like heâd rather be anywhere else.
"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.
"Careful, Y/N. Thatâs how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.
Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"
It was hard to ignore the pride in her voiceâshe was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.
By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldnât help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasnât as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.
"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.
"Donât get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "Weâll see how you do with the next one."
Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."
You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, itâs all about teamwork, right?"
Logan didnât say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something thereâsomething unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.
The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldnât help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.
As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.
"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasnât your idea of a fun day."
Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasnât so bad."
You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, Iâm glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."
"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "Sheâs a good kid."
"She is," you said, nodding. "And sheâs lucky to have you."
Logan didnât respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."
There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.
"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Letâs get outta here."
As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."
"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."
---
It had been a few days since the Valentineâs Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.
Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.
"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought itâd be nice."
You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasnât exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.
"Sure," you said, smiling. "Iâd like that."
Dinner at Loganâs place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonightâsofter, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line youâd both been careful to avoid.
As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Loganâs, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.
âThanks for coming,â he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.
âAnytime,â you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between youâsomething that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.
Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. âY/N, can you help me with my English homework?â she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadnât just interrupted a moment.
You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. âOf course, I can take a look.â
âGreat!â Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. âItâs this essay Iâve got to write.â
Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Lauraâs book with an expression you couldnât quite read. âIâll leave you two to it, then,â he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.
You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. âAlright, letâs see what youâve got here.â
Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and sheâd clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.
âLaura⊠this is really good,â you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. âI donât think you need help with this.â
Lauraâs face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. âJust wanted to make sure it was okay,â she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.
Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Lauraâs little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the patternâtiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.
âWell, your essayâs great,â you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. âBut I think thereâs more going on here than just English homework.â
Lauraâs gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyesâsomething far beyond her years. âHeâs lonely,â she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.
Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasnât exactly the type to talk about his feelingsâor admit he might need someone else in his life.
âMaybe,â you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. âBut thatâs something he has to figure out on his own, okay?â
Laura nodded slowly, but she didnât look entirely convinced. âHe likes you,â she said, blunt as ever. âAnd you like him.â
Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasnât the first time Laura has said something like this. âItâs not that simple, Laura.â
âWhy not?â she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didnât understand.
You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicatedâthat you werenât sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Lauraâs teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.
âI just⊠donât want to mess things up,â you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.
Lauraâs gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. âYou wonât.â
Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. âEverything okay?â he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldnât quite pinpoint.
âYeah, weâre good,â you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Lauraâs words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. âI should probably get going, though. Itâs getting late.â
Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyesâsomething that almost looked like disappointment. âIâll walk you out.â
He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldnât help but smile back.
âThanks again for coming,â Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.
âAnytime,â you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Loganâs gaze on you.
There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.
âLogan, Iââ
âY/N, Iââ
You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.
âYou first,â Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.
You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. âI just⊠I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Lauraâs been⊠well, playing matchmaker or something,â you added with a chuckle, âbut I just want you to know that Iâm notââ
âUsing her as an excuse to get close?â Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.
You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. âYeah.â
Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.
"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But thisâtonightâit wasnât just about her."
You blinked, surprised by his admission. You werenât used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight heâd been in.
"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "itâs not just her, Y/N. I didnât mind tonight. And thatâs not something I say often."
Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you werenât expectingâa side of him that he clearly didnât let out much, if at all.
"I didnât mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you werenât taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, sheâs got a way of seeing things."
Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think sheâs too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.
"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."
Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybeâjust maybeâthere was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Loganâs strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Loganâs presence so close, it felt different. More personal.
"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I donât exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... youâre good with Laura. And youâreâ" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasnât sure if he should say the next part. "Youâre good for us."
Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you werenât sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasnât sayingâthe layers beneath that simple statement. Youâre good for us. It wasnât just about being Lauraâs teacher anymore. It was about something more.
Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. âGood for you?â you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Loganâsomeone who didnât let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.
"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldnât help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Loganâs usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.
You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.
âI think Lauraâs got something figured out,â you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. âSheâs smart enough to see whatâs happening here.â
Loganâs lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. âYeah, too smart sometimes.â His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different thereâsomething raw. âBut sheâs right. Youâre good for us. Hell, youâre good for me.â His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, youâd been hoping to hear them for a while.
You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. âLogan, IâŠâ You started to say somethingâanythingâto break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.
And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. âI donât say things like this often,â he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, âbut I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.â
Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasnât just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.
âIâve wanted to stay close,â you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldnât help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.
Loganâs gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded awayâthe cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.
Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.
His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadnât let yourself think about for so longâfilled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.
Logan kissed like he livedâintensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.
When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Loganâs forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.
âIââ you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.
âDonât,â he muttered, shaking his head slightly. âDonât ruin it with words, not yet.â
You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Loganâs body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.
After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. âDidnât think thisâd happen,â he admitted, almost to himself.
You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. âMe either.â
His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.
For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another partâthe stronger partâwanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.
Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.
tags: @freythecrazyfae

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Until I Found You
Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.
Word Count: 24.3k+
Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!teacher!reader
Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.
this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.
reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.
i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)
warnings: none!
The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyoneâs business.
A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You werenât sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But thatâs what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.
It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though youâve never seen Lauraâs mother, so perhaps that explains why.
Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least thatâs what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while sheâs visited the principalâs office at least 9 times since sheâs been here, you still canât help but see her as a cute little girl whoâs been through something traumatic, whatever it was.
You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacherâs class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.
Emma leaned close to you, âthis is my favorite part of the day, you know.â
âYeah, I think itâs everyoneâs favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.â You replied.
âIt used to be that, but nowâŠâ Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, âthere arenât a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But heâs a great new addition.â
You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.
"Come on, youâve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "Heâs like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."
"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."
You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didnât mind or didnât care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beardâhe was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.
Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, youâre not even the least bit curious about him?"
"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.
Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."
You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."
Just then, you noticed Loganâs truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.
"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.
He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."
"Hey," you replied, casually. You werenât about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.
Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.
"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.
You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."
She gave a small nod before taking Loganâs hand. He didnât say much else, just a simple âthanksâ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.
"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, youâve got a little thing for him, don't you?"
You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."
Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldnât help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theoriesâsome more ridiculous than othersâbut youâd always figured it wasnât your place to pry.
As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didnât bother youâit reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.
Emmaâs voice pulled you back to the present. "So, whatâs your plan for the evening?"
You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"
"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldnât have been surprised if she wasnât kidding.
You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."
As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldnât help but glance over at Loganâs truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.
You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You werenât sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasnât entirely wrong.
Not that youâd ever admit that to her.
---
Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.
So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.
Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerryâs sâmores. âFuck.â You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the sâmores.
You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.
"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."
Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.
You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.
He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess theyâre out, huh?"
"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.
Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."
You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? Whatâs your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"
He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose⊠probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."
You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."
His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simpleâs the best option."
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."
He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You werenât sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasnât healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.
Instead, you went for something safer. "Lauraâs doing well in class, by the way. Sheâs sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."
He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, sheâs a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesnât talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."
Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that sheâd let her guard down even a little with you meant more than youâd expected. "Well, sheâs a good kid. I try not to push her too much."
Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and⊠oddly seen.
"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "Iâll let you get back to your shopping. Iâm sure youâve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."
He gave a small grunt that mightâve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldnât be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."
"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."
He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."
You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldnât help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about himâsomething rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.
---
The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.
As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.
"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.
You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."
"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"
Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?
"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.
"Oh, I donât know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.
You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"
"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didnât you? Come on, spill!"
You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. Thatâs it."
"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.
"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."
Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."
You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."
Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."
"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."
"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.
---
The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. Sheâd finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.
During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.
"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"
She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."
You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.
"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, Iâm here," you said gently.
She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."
You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasnât one for big emotional outburstsâat least not around youâbut you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.
"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he donât like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"
Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."
"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, Iâm officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."
Laura didnât laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasnât much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that youâd at least gotten her to relax.
---
The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Loganâs truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you werenât paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.
"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.
"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.
Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.
"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.
"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.
Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldnât help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasnât your place to pry.
Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "Youâre so not fooling anyone."
You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."
Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And Iâm going to enjoy every minute of it."
As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldnât help but glance over at Loganâs truck one more time as it drove away. Emmaâs teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldnât completely dismiss what she was saying.
Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you werenât about to admit that to anyoneânot even yourself.
---
Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You werenât going to go to âMavinâs Oil Changeâ, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years youâve been doing it yourself.
It wasnât difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.
You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.
You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.
"Didnât peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."
You turned your head and were met with Loganâs familiar gravelly voice. There he was againâof all places, heâd found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.
"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"
Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."
"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess Iâll stick with what I know too, then."
He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured youâd be one to overthink it. Syntheticâs not all itâs cracked up to be."
You chuckled. "Iâll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."
He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of niceâquiet, comfortable in a way you wouldnât have expected.
You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"
Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but⊠this town ainât exactly got a lot going on."
"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if sheâs interested. I know she likes plants."
Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if youâd crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "Sheâd probably like that."
"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadnât messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."
He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.
"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "Iâm starting to think youâre stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"
Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure itâs the other way around."
You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, Iâm just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."
"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.
You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasnât always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.
"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."
"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.
As you walked toward the checkout, you couldnât help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasnât any awkwardness or forced conversationâjust two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than youâd like to admit.
---
Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didnât like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.
A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.
The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, âella te gusta,â she said softly.
He let out a huff, âkid, I donât know how many times I have to tell you, but I donât know Spanish.â
Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Loganâs chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didnât say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.
He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.
After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. âYou should go help her.â
Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. âSheâs fine. Knows what sheâs doinâ.â
Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. âYouâre always saying people shouldnât be doinâ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?â
âYeah, but sheâs not helpless,â he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.
Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. âStill think you should.â
Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like youâd handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.
âWhat are you drawing?â he asked, trying to change the subject.
Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plantâa vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.
âThat for Ms. Aberra?â Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.
âMaybe.â She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. âShe likes plants. Thought sheâd like this.â
Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasnât about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why heâd noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasnât his style.
âWhy donât you go show her?â Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.
Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. âMaybe later. Sheâs busy.â
Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didnât push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasnât in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.
A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.
You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.â You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.
The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. âSheâs been dying to see you again,â she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.
"Well, Iâm always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?â
The girl shrugged. âYeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.â
You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, itâs hard to decide.â
The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. âDoing your own oil change?â
"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."
She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldnât even know where to start."
âYouâd be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,â you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.
The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I donât mess up my car in the process.â
You laughed. "Thatâs what the tutorials are for. But yeah, itâs not too bad. Youâd get the hang of it."
As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. âWell, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.â
âSame here,â the girl replied, tugging gently on Junoâs leash. âCâmon, girl. Letâs get home.â
You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.
Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then sheâd glance up at him with that same look.
âSheâs done now,â Laura said after a moment, still sketching.
âI can see that,â Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.
âStill think you should go help,â she added, not even bothering to look up this time.
Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didnât need to helpâyou were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. Youâd done it all yourself, like you didnât need anyoneâs help. He couldnât quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.
âKid, you sure know how to push buttons,â he muttered under his breath.
Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.
Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. âStay here.â
He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.
âYou done already?â he called out, making his presence known.
You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. âYeah, just finished up,â you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. âWhat about you? Something break down?â
âNah, just figured Iâd see if you needed any help,â he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasnât exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.
You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. âYou offering to help after the jobâs already done?â
"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.
You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, Iâll be sure to save the hardest part for you."
"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"
"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. âI went on a few dates with Mavinâs son the first few months I was here and didnât go over well. Now he overcharges me.â You held up your hands, âbut if itâs something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.â
Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."
You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."
Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like youâpeople who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.
"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the jobâs already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."
He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."
That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."
"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesnât open up to many people. But you... youâre different."
You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "Iâm glad she feels comfortable around me. Sheâs been through a lot."
Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.
You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.
"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."
You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "Iâll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I donât know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."
He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."
You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.
---
During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.
The way heâd offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followedâit was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didnât know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.
A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.
âSo,â she started, stepping inside your classroom. âI hear youâre making friends with a certain someone across the street.â
You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz youâd been half-grading. âIâm not âmaking friends.â We just happen to run into each other.â
Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. âMhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?â
"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.
Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, youâre not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? Itâs hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."
You sighed, rubbing your temple. "Itâs not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Lauraâ"
Emmaâs grin widened. "Ah, Laura. Thatâs the key, isnât it? Iâve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesnât warm up to just anyone. Sheâs a little... prickly, but with you? Sheâs different."
"Sheâs a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "Sheâs been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone whoâs not... intimidating."
"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you canât tell me there isnât something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesnât exactly strike me as the âfriendly neighborâ type. More like âleave me alone or Iâll stab you with my clawsâ type."
You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, heâs not exactly Mr. Rogers. But itâs not like weâre... you know, itâs justâ"
"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.
"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "Itâs just friendly. Heâs Lauraâs dad, and weâve talked a few times, but thatâs it."
Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And Iâm the Queen of England."
You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"
"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "itâs about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."
"I have a life," you protested.
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"
You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didnât have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "itâs been a while. But that doesnât meanâ"
"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, Iâm not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? Heâs clearly interested. And I think you are too."
"Okay⊠even if I was interested, Iâm pretty sure a guy like that doesnât have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.
Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Donât sell yourself short. Youâre smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks youâre worth his time. Heâs not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."
You sighed, crossing your arms. "Itâs not that simple. You know what heâs been through. And Laura... sheâs been through so much already. Iâm not about to mess with their lives."
Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. Sheâs practically glued to your side when youâre around. And Logan? Heâs different with you. I see it."
You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Lauraâs nice to me, yeah. But that doesnât mean anything. Sheâs indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I donât even know if she likes me, or if itâs just... I donât know."
"She doesnât warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "Youâre different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. Thatâs not something that happens often with them. Theyâre... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."
You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was trueâshe was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. Sheâd even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.
Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, itâs not like heâs the type to be thinking about relationships. The manâs got enough on his plate. And me? Iâve got work, and... Iâm not exactly relationship material."
Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, itâs you. Youâve spent so long taking care of everyone elseâyour students, your job. Maybe itâs time to let someone take care of you for a change."
You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"
She smirked. "He already is. Heâs just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? Thereâs more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."
Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."
You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?
As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.
---
Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of dayâthe quiet, the calm.
Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.
"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.
You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? Iâm just pulling weeds."
He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesnât hurt to have an extra set of hands."
You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if youâre up for it."
Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.
Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Lauraâs been doing well in class. Sheâs quiet, but I think sheâs starting to come out of her shell a bit."
Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? Thatâs good to hear. She doesnât talk much at home either."
"Sheâs a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."
Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Sheâs been through a lot. Trust doesnât come easy for her."
You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"
He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than Iâve felt in a long time."
That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadnât anticipated.
"Thatâs good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "Iâm glad."
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Loganâs presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.
Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what youâve done for Laura. She doesnât trust many people, but with you... itâs different."
You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Iâm just doing my job. Sheâs a good kid, like I said."
Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Itâs more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."
Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.
"Logan, Iâ"
Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, Iâll let you get back to it."
You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."
He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."
As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it nowâthere was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.
---
Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your studentsâ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldnât understand why an email didnât suffice.
Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.
The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes youâd organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.
You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasnât exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the sameâpractical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.
You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.
âMs. Aberra,â Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.
âLogan,â you said, smiling at Laura. âAnd Laura. How are you two doing?â
Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.
âDidnât expect to see you here,â you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. âLauraâs doing fine in class. Really, thereâs not much to talk about.â
Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. âFigured Iâd come by anyway. See how things are goinâ.â
You nodded, pulling up Lauraâs grades on your tablet. âWell, like I said, sheâs doing great. Sheâs one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell sheâs always thinking.â
Lauraâs face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.
âSheâs got potential,â you continued, looking at Logan. âEspecially in science. I think sheâd be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.â
Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. âThatâs good to hear.â
Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. âI like science. And math.â
You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. âWell, youâre really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitionsâstuff like that. It might be fun.â
Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. âUp to you, kid.â
She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. âMaybe.â
âWell, no pressure,â you said, trying to keep it casual. âYou can always decide later.â
There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Lauraâs grades, though there wasnât much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldnât help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what sheâd been through.
âSo, uh, anything else you need to know?â you asked, looking back up at Logan.
He shook his head. âJust wanted to check in, make sure sheâs on track.â
You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didnât show it. âSheâs doing great. Really.â
Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. âThanks.â
You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didnât stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.
âAre you... friends?â she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.
You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.
âWell,â you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. âI guess you could say that.â
Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. âYeah. Somethinâ like that.â
Lauraâs eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didnât quite believe it but wasnât going to argue. âOkay.â
She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. âSee you around,â he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.
You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions againâthe warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didnât mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasnât such a bad thing after all.
Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. âCreo que ella te gusta.â
He let out a huff, âkid, donât know how many times I gotta say it, but I donât know Spanish.â
Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.
Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driverâs seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasnât uncomfortable, but it wasnât quite easy either.
He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. Sheâd always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him tooâa feeling he wasnât used to and didnât quite know how to handle.
âYou like her,â Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasnât a question.
Loganâs grip tightened on the steering wheel. âSheâs a good teacher. You like her, too.â
âThatâs not what I meant,â Laura said, crossing her arms. âYou act different when sheâs around. You donât growl as much.â
Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. âI donât growl.â
âYes, you do,â Laura said, looking out the window. âBut not at her.â
He didnât know how to respond to that, so he didnât. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasnât a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than heâd like to admit.
âI like her,â Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.
Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didnât trust people easily, and she certainly didnât like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.
âYeah?â he asked, his voice softer than usual.
Laura nodded, still looking out the window. âSheâs not like the others. She doesnât treat me like Iâm different.â
Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasnât sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didnât say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.
---
The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.
After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.
Even with that said, you couldnât help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.
You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadnât memorized the recipe after making it for years.
The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. Youâd never say it to her, sheâd probably leave if you said she looked cute.
âHey, Laura. Dâyou need anything?â
âDaddy said I could help with the garden.â She spoke softly.
âOof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.â You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, âthough, I could use some help making cookies.â
Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but youâd learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didnât fully get why.
âOkay,â she finally said, stepping past you into the house.
You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. âYou ever make cookies before?â you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.
Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.
âWell, todayâs your lucky day. Iâm about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.â You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. âCan you hand me the brown sugar?â
She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasnât used to this kind of thingânormal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but youâd heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadnât had a typical upbringing.
As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasnât the chatty type, and you didnât want to push her too much.
âSo,â you started, keeping your tone casual, âwhatâs Logan up to today?â
She shrugged. âResting.â
You raised an eyebrow but didnât push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew heâd been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasnât the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasnât what it used to be.
Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.
âYou wanna stir?â you asked, offering her the spatula.
She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldnât help but smile as she focused on the task.
âNice job,â you said, giving her a thumbs-up. âYouâve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.â
Laura didnât react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.
As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. âBest part of making cookiesâsneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.â You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.
She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasnât sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.
You chuckled. âSee? Told you itâs the best part.â
Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasnât uncomfortable, just⊠quiet. You didnât mind it, though. Laura wasnât the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.
As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didnât know what exactly sheâd been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.
When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. âAlmost done,â you said. âThen itâs just a waiting game while they bake.â
Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.
You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. âYou want some water or anything while we wait?â
She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.
âWell, Iâm grabbing a drink.â You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. âItâll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.â
Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.
You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You werenât exactly sure why sheâd taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didnât let many people in, that much was obvious.
âI can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethinâ while I wait.â
Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. âMusic,â she said quietly.
You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. âCool. Letâs see what we got.â You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.
Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasnât fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.
You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. âYou ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?â
She shook her head. âNo.â
You figured as much. âWell, if he ever asks, youâll be a pro now.â You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.
You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasnât awkward, just⊠peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the airâLoganâs health, Lauraâs past, whatever weight she carried that you didnât fully understand yet.
After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. âI talked to Logan about you⊠last night.â
You paused, surprised sheâd bring it up. âOh yeah? Whatâd he say?â
She didnât answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. âHe said youâre... different from other people. In a good way.â
A warmth crept into your chest at that. âWell, thatâs nice of him to say. I think heâs pretty different too, you know. In a good way.â
Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. âHe likes you,â she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.
You felt your cheeks heat up a little. âYeah? Well⊠I like him too.â
She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. âHe doesnât trust people. But he trusts you.â
You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. âIâm glad he does. I mean⊠I care about him, Laura. And you too.â
Lauraâs eyes flickered with somethingâmaybe understanding, maybe something else you couldnât quite name. She didnât say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.
Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.
âCookies are done,â you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. âWanna taste test one?â
Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.
You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. âCareful, itâs hot.â
She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.
âGood, right?â you asked, biting into one yourself.
Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.
As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didnât know all of Lauraâs story, but you didnât need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.
âSo,â you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. âWhat should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?â
Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. âMore cookies.â
You grinned. âGood choice. Letâs make this batch even better.â
---
After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?
You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she movedâso quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.
When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.
âYou were gone a while,â he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.
Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. âMade cookies.â
Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didnât do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. âWith Y/N?â he asked, taking another sip.
Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.
Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.
âNot bad,â he muttered, glancing at Laura. âYou help with these?â
She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didnât go unnoticed by Logan.
âHmm,â he grunted, leaning back. âMaybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash âem down.â
Laura didnât smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Loganâs thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didnât trust people easilyânever had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. Heâd seen how she handled Laura, how she didnât push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didnât have much of.
âY/Nâs a good one,â he said quietly, almost to himself.
Laura didnât say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.
Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasnât really in his nature, but for Lauraâs sakeâand maybe a bit for his ownâhe was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didnât want to admit it.
âShe ask about me?â Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.
Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. âYeah. I told her you were resting.â
Logan snorted. âResting. Thatâs a nice way of putting it.â
Laura didnât respond, and Logan didnât push further. He knew what Y/N probably thoughtâthat he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didnât know the half of it. But she didnât pry either, and for that, he was grateful.
âGuess Iâll have to thank her for the cookies,â Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/Nâthe way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasnât just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.
âShe likes you too, you know,â Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.
Loganâs brow furrowed. âWhat?â
âY/N,â Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. âShe likes you.â
Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. âYou donât know that, kid.â
Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. âShe does. I can tell.â
Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didnât waste time with pleasantries.
He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. âYeah, well⊠thatâs her problem, not mine.â
Laura didnât react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.
Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Lauraâs words hanging in the air. He wasnât used to people âlikingâ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.
He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasnât worth thinking about. Not right now.
But even as he chewed in silence, he couldnât shake the thought of Y/Nâand what it might mean if Laura was right.
---
A few days later, you found yourself at Loganâs house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually donât make âhouse callsâ to help students, but you couldnât deny Laura.
Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.
âYouâre doing good, Laura.â You said.
Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. âCan you stay for dinner?â She asked you.
Loganâs head snapped up at that. He hadnât expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, âI made something. With Logan.â
That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.
Y/N smiled softly. âI wouldnât say no to dinner.â She glanced at Logan. âIf thatâs okay?â
Logan grunted, shifting his weight. âYeah. âCourse.â
Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. âGuess Iâm staying for dinner, then.â
Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. âItâs nothing fancy,â she said, which wasnât reassuring.
âWell, Iâm excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,â you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.
Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldnât help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasnât quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.
âSo, whatâs on the menu?â you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.
Laura, sitting across from you, didnât answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Loganâs eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.
âSpaghetti,â she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.
You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. âOh yeah? Sounds good.â
Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when theyâd supposedly made spaghetti. But he didnât contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.
âWell, Iâm looking forward to it,â you said, standing up from the kitchen table. âLet me know if you need any help.â
Laura didnât say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadnât done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with herâand Loganâyou werenât about to complain.
âIâll get the sauce going,â you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.
Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadnât expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.
âSo, howâs school?â you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.
âItâs fine,â she said, her tone noncommittal.
You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. âWell, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.â
She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. âI know.â
The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasnât long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.
Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. âNeed me to do anything?â
You glanced back at him with a smile. âJust sit there and look pretty, Logan. Weâve got this.â
A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didnât change much. âThat so?â
Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.
Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.
As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasnât one of those forced silences that felt awkwardâit was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.
âYou did good, Laura,â you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. âThis tastes great.â
She didnât say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.
Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadnât been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. âNot bad,â he said quietly.
You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasnât exactly what youâd planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own wayâjust simple, like normal people having dinner together.
As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. âIâll handle the cleanup,â he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.
You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. âYou sure?â
Logan waved you off. âYeah. Laura and I got it.â
You nodded, stepping back. âAlright, Iâll leave you to it then.â
Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasnât used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didnât mind having you around for it.
âWell,â you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. âThanks for dinner, you two. Iâll see you around?â
Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.
Before you could leave, she spoke up. âWill you come over again?â Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
You smiled softly. âOf course. Anytime.â
She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadnât been there before.
You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldnât help but think about how unexpected this had all been.
---
You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.
So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didnât want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.
Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. âSoâŠâ
You rolled your eyes, âdonât start.â
âWhat! Iâve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavinâ his house last night.â
âRose?â You shook your head, âthat woman is 85 and still gossips like sheâs 20.â You put your phone down, âI was helping Laura with her English homework.â
"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."
You groaned, leaning back in your chair. âIt wasnât like that. Sheâs struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Loganâs... well, you know heâs not exactly the best person for that.â
âUh-huh,â Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. âIâm just saying, you and him⊠thereâs something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.â
âPeople need hobbies,â you muttered. âBesides, Loganâs... complicated. Itâs not that simple.â
âIâm not saying it is,â she shrugged. âBut youâve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. Iâm just curious.â
You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. âCurious about what, exactly?â
âJust curious when you're going to admit you like him,â Emma smirked.
âI donâtâ" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. âEmma, heâs⊠I mean, I care about him, but itâs not like that. Heâs a single dad with a kid, and Iâm just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.â
âYeah, sure, Y/N.â Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, âif you donât make a move, someone on the âWolverine Watchersâ will.â
You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, âthe what?â
Emma grinned, âthe âWolverine Watchersâ. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.â
You blinked at Emma, still processing what sheâd just said. âHold onâthereâs a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?â
âDead serious,â Emma said with a smug smile. âThey call themselves the âWolverine Watchers.â Thereâs, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.â
You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. âThatâs insane. Why would anyone even...â
âOh, please,â Emma interrupted. âDonât act like you donât get it. Heâs rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and heâs got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.â
You glared at her. âYouâre not helping.â
She leaned against the desk, still grinning. âJust saying, donât wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.â
You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. âLoganâs not interested in any of that.â
Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. âMaybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?â
You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. âOkay. Iâm going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.â
Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. âFine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.â
She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. âYou need help?â Laura finally asked.
You shook your head, âno. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakinâ.â
Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. âWhy donât you ask daddy?â
You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. âBecause your dadâs busy, and itâs not his problem to deal with. Iâll figure it out.â
âHe fixed the dishwasher last week,â she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. âAnd the dryer.â
âYeah, but I donât want to bother him with stuff like this,â you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. âIâm sure heâs got enough on his plate.â
Laura didnât respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. âHe likes helping,â she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.
You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. âIs that so?â
âMhm,â she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. âHeâs good at fixing things.â
You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. âOkay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesnât need to be the townâs go-to handyman.â
Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. âJust tell him. Please?â
There was something almost⊠hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasnât the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to herâŠ
âFine,â you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. âIâll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.â
Lauraâs lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. âThank you.â
âYouâre welcome, but youâre not off the hook yet,â you teased gently. âYou still owe me an essay on Newtonâs laws of motion, remember?â
She scrunched up her nose, making a face. âI know. Iâll finish it.â
âGood,â you nodded, giving her a playful wink. âAnd donât go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?â
Lauraâs eyes widened in mock innocence. âI would never.â
âUh-huh,â you said skeptically. âAlright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.â
She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. âHe really likes you, you know.â
Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. âLauraââ
âJust saying,â she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.
You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?
You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was⊠well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, heâd been more present lately, but that didnât mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.
You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadnât even finished setting up for the afternoon class.
âGuess Iâll ask him about the sink,â you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.
Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?
---
That evening, after school had ended and youâd finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Loganâs place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.
You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voicesâLaura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was⊠nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.
âJust ask about the sink and go,â you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. âNo big deal.â
You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attireâflannel shirt, jeansâand he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.
âHey,â you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. âI, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.â
His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. âWhatâs goinâ on?â
You hesitated, then took a deep breath. âMy kitchen sink started leaking, and⊠well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said youâre good at this kind of stuff, so I thought⊠maybeâŠâ
Logan raised an eyebrow. âYou want me to take a look at it?â
âYeah,â you nodded quickly. âIf youâre not too busy. I donât want toââ
âItâs fine,â he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. âLetâs go.â
You blinked. âWait, you donât want to, like, finish dinner or something first?â
He shot you a look that was almost amused. âIâm not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. Câmon.â
You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. âOkay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.â
âNo problem,â he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. âLead the way.â
As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but youâd come to learn there was more to him than that.
When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.
âYou didnât have to come over right away,â you said softly, breaking the silence. âI know youâve got a lot going on.â
He didnât look up, just shrugged. âItâs fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.â
âYeah, I guess,â you murmured. âBut still⊠thanks.â
Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. âYou donât gotta thank me every time I do somethinâ for you, Y/N.â
âI know,â you replied, offering a small smile. âBut I want to.â
He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.
âYouâve done this before, huh?â you asked, breaking the silence again.
Logan didnât look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. âCouple times.â
âFixing sinks?â you teased, raising an eyebrow. âOr just everything?â
âEverything,â he muttered. âYou learn to handle stuff when no one else can.â
There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didnât pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let onâthere were pieces of his life you still hadnât put together, and you werenât sure you ever would. But that didnât stop you from being curious.
Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. âWell, I appreciate it. I probably wouldâve made a bigger mess if Iâd kept trying.â
He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldnât help but chuckle.
âOkay, I walked into that one,â you admitted. âBut seriously, thank you. Laura was rightâyou are good at this.â
Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. âShe talks too much sometimes.â
You shook your head, still smiling. âSheâs just proud of you.â
He didnât respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. âItâs done. Shouldnât leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.â
You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. âGot it. Thanks again.â
Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.
âLogan?â
He paused, his back to you.
âI meant what I said earlier,â you continued, a little more quietly this time. âI know youâve got a lot on your plate, and I donât want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.â
Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyesâsomething you couldnât quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.
âDonât worry about it, Y/N,â he finally said. âIf you need somethinâ, Iâll be around.â
He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.
Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next dayâs lessons, you couldnât stop replaying the interaction in your head. Loganâs quietness, his willingness to help, Lauraâs knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.
But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you⊠well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasnât the time to start overthinking things.
Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sinkâfocused, calm, and oddly comfortingâstayed with you.
---
Youâve never liked storms. Youâre not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.
But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.
It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.
You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.
The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers youâd set aside to grade, but your mind just wasnât in it.
âWhy does it always feel worse at night?â you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.
Then, a knock at the door startled you. You werenât expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.
You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.
âLaura? What are you doing out here?â you asked, eyes wide with concern.
âOur power went out,â she explained quickly, shivering slightly. âDaddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.â
You frowned, glancing past her toward Loganâs house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. âIs your dad coming over too?â
Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. âHe said heâd figure it out.â
You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. âYou shouldâve just called, you know. I wouldâve come to get you.â
Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. âItâs fine. I didnât want to wait.â
You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. âOf course you didnât.â
The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.
âHow longâs the power been out?â you asked after a few minutes.
âSince just after dinner,â she replied. âDaddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.â
You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didnât come back on soon, youâd probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didnât want to impose. Especially with Logan.
Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.
You didnât even have to look to know it was Logan.
You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.
âCome on in,â you said quickly, stepping aside.
Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. âThanks. Powerâs out, and I donât think itâs cominâ back anytime soon.â
You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.
âYou alright with us beinâ here?â he asked, his voice low but genuine.
âOf course,â you replied, waving it off. âIâm not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.â
Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyesâsomething like gratitude, though he didnât voice it.
The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasnât exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasnât awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasnât one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.
As the night wore on, the storm didnât let up, and Lauraâs eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.
âYouâre welcome to stay the night,â you offered, glancing between them. âItâs still coming down pretty hard out there, and I donât think the powerâs coming back on soon.â
Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. âWeâll be fine,â he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. âDonât wanna impose.â
âYouâre not imposing,â you said firmly, crossing your arms. âThereâs a guest bedroom, and Iâve got blankets. Besides, Iâm not letting either of you walk back in this mess.â
Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. âI want to stay,â she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.
Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. âLauraâŠâ
âDaddy, itâs still storming,â she added, her voice soft but insistent. âWe can stay, right?â
You jumped in before he could refuse. âItâs no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.â
Logan gave you a skeptical look. âYouâre not sleepinâ on the couch in your own house.â
You rolled your eyes. âItâs not a big deal.â
âItâs your bed,â he grunted. âIâll take the couch.â
Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. âYou could both sleep in the bed.â
Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.
âLaura,â you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.
âWhat?â she said innocently. âItâs a big bed.â
Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. âYouâre not helpinâ, kid.â
Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. âI think I am.â
You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. âIâm fine with sleepinâ on the couch, really. Canât really sleep when itâs storminâ anyways.â
Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. âYou could just share the bed.â
Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. âLauraââ
âWhat?â She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.
Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. âKid, stop messinâ around.â
She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didnât budge. âIâm just saying itâs an option.â
You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. âLaura, youâre gonna sleep in the guest room. Iâll be on the couch. End of story.â
Laura rolled her eyes but didnât argue. âFine.â
Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, âYou sure about this? I donât wanna take your bed.â
You waved him off, trying to sound casual. âSeriously, itâs no big deal. Just get some rest. Youâve been out in the rain long enough.â
He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. âAlright. But only because you wonât stop arguinâ.â
âExactly,â you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. âYou can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.â
Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.
âYou can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,â you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.
Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didnât.
After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. âYou really are stubborn, you know that?â
You raised an eyebrow. âTakes one to know one.â
He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. âFair enough.â
Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.
You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.
Laura had probably planned this all along.
You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleepâor if she was lying there, scheming her next move.
Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.
You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasnât coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.
A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. Youâd thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.
Just when you started to think youâd be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.
âCanât sleep?â you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.
He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. âNot used to sleepinâ anywhere but my own bed.â
You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. âYeah, I get that. Stormâs not helping much either.â
Loganâs eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. âYou alright? Heard you jumpinâ every time the thunder hits.â
You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. âItâs nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.â
âYeah, I noticed,â Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. âDonât have to tough it out, yâknow.â
You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasnât like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.
âGuess Iâm just used to toughing it out,â you said softly, offering him a small smile.
Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. âYou donât always have to. Not with us.â
The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You werenât sure what to say. This side of Loganâthe quiet, protective sideâwas something youâd only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.
âYou donât have to worry about me,â you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.
âNot worryinâ,â Logan replied, his gaze steady. âJust statinâ a fact.â
The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Loganâs eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.
But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. âIf you want... thereâs room in the bed.â
Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. âWhat?â
Loganâs lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. âI ainât suggestinâ what Laura was earlier,â he muttered, a little embarrassed. âJust... if it helps you sleep better, I donât mind. Couchâs not exactly comfortable.â
Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasnât the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with himâplatonically or notâmade your pulse quicken.
âIââ You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasnât just about the storm or being polite. This was about something moreâsomething that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.
Before you could overthink it, you nodded. âOkay.â
Loganâs eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortableâmore like an understanding had settled between you.
Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasnât racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.
The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.
âYou good?â Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.
âYeah,â you whispered. âIâm good.â
A beat passed. Then another.
âThanks,â you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.
Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. âAinât nothinâ.â
But it was something. It was a lot, actually.
You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.
Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Loganâs voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.
âI meant what I said earlier,â he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. âYou donât have to do this on your own. Not with us around.â
Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you werenât quite ready to confront just yet. You didnât know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.
Logan didnât pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.
---
You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.
This was new.
You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like thisâcalm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where heâd held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.
Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Lauraâs room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.
You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last nightâs sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.
In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way heâd stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of itâit meant more than you wanted to admit.
The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.
âYouâre up early,â Loganâs gravelly voice broke the quiet.
You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.
âCouldnât sleep much after the storm,â you shrugged, offering him a small smile. âCoffee?â
âYeah,â he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. âThanks.â
You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.
Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. âYou sleep alright?â
You hesitated, remembering how easily youâd fallen asleep next to him. âBetter than I expected, honestly.â
He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. âGuess the storm wasnât as bad as you thought.â
You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. âOr maybe it was the company.â
Loganâs smirk widened slightly, but he didnât push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. âThanks for lettinâ us stay. Laura didnât give you much choice, huh?â
âShe didnât have to,â you replied with a shrug. âI wasnât gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.â
Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. âPower should be back on soon. Iâll head back once itâs up.â
You didnât say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadnât had many moments like thisâquiet, with just the two of youâand you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.
Lauraâs quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
âMorninâ, kid,â Logan greeted her.
âMorninâ,â Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. âIs the power back on yet?â
âNot yet,â you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.
Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. âGuess weâre stuck here a little longer, huh?â
You shot her a look, but she didnât seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.
âSo, whatâs the plan for today?â you asked, trying to shift the conversation.
Laura perked up at that. âYou said youâd help me with my English homework, remember?â
You blinked. âIâuh, right. Yeah, I did say that.â
Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. âSince when do you need help with English?â
Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. âI figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.â
You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. âIâm sure youâre doing fine in English, Laura.â
She shrugged, playing with her spoon. âYeah, but itâs better when someone explains it.â
Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didnât say anything, letting Lauraâs little game play out.
âWell,â you said, getting up from the table. âI guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.â
Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. âThanks, Ms. Aberra.â
You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didnât need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.
âAlright,â you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. âGo grab your stuff, and weâll take a look.â
Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?
Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a lookâone eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.
âShe really roped you into this, huh?â he asked, voice low and rough.
You shrugged, trying to seem casual. âItâs not a big deal. Iâm used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.â
âYeah, but Laura? She doesnât ask for help unless sheâs got some kind of angle.â
You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasnât just a smart kidâshe was calculating. Youâd seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.
âI guess Iâll find out,â you said, leaning back into the couch.
Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay sheâd written didnât have a single correction or revision mark.
âAlright,â you began, pretending you didnât see the perfection in front of you. âWhat do you need help with?â
Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. âI just wanted to know if the introductionâs strong enough.â
You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything youâd expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.
âItâs good,â you said slowly. âYour thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, itâs solid.â
Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.
Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasnât quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasnât saying anything.
Laura glanced at her dad. âMs. Aberraâs a pretty good teacher, donât you think?â
Loganâs eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. âYeah, Iâd say so.â
You gave Laura a suspicious look. âYouâre not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?â
Lauraâs eyes widened in mock innocence. âNo. I just like the way you explain things.â
âMhm.â You werenât buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.
The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Lauraâs pencil against her notebook. It felt⊠peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.
âAlright, well,â you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. âLooks like youâve got this handled, Laura. I donât think you need much help.â
Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. âThanks anyway.â
You caught the look she sent Loganâs way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didnât need your help with homeworkâshe was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.
Smart kid.
Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.
"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "Whatâs the plan today?"
You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Youâre the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."
Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since weâre stuck here."
Logan gave her a look, but didnât say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"
Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "Iâll ask nicely. Maybe youâll cover it."
You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."
Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."
"Hey, Iâm a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.
Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you againâshe was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasnât exactly a hardship.
Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "Youâre sure you donât mind us hanging around?"
You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldnât have let you in. Youâre both always welcome here."
For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting itâmaybe even appreciating it, though heâd never say that out loud. "Thanks."
You shrugged, trying to act like it wasnât a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Donât mention it."
Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "Iâll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "Iâm starving."
You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think weâve got time for that before the power comes back on?"
Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."
"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.
Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesnât eat the place out of food while we wait."
You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Lauraâs not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasnât rushed or forced. Just... right.
Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.
Logan gave her a look. "We havenât even decided where weâre going."
"Iâll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.
You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.
"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Letâs get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."
Laura grinned but didnât say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.
You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like thatâwatching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.
You couldnât help but smile. She was good. Really good.
And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.
---
The school did something special for parents on Valentineâs Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.
There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.
Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parentâs names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.
âSo⊠whoâs sitting out?â Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.
You chewed your lip, staring at the list. âLooks like weâve got one extra parent. Iâm not sure yet.â
Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. âWhat about Logan?â
You paused, looking at the list. Loganâs name was there, as was Lauraâs, but you hesitated. He wasnât exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while heâd been involved in Lauraâs life, you werenât sure heâd want to participate in something like this.
âYeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.â You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, âIâll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.â
As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.
Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.
You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasnât exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentineâs Day competition, but you couldnât help but think maybe heâd want to give it a shot for Laura.
Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didnât sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You werenât even sure if heâd show up.
When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.
âEverything okay?â you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.
Laura nodded. âYeah, just thinking.â
âThinking about the competition?â You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.
âSomething like that.â
Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. âLogan didnât strike me as the âcompetitionâ type. But who knows?â
You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.
âYouâre here,â you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. âDidnât think youâd make it.â
Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. âLaura signed us up. Thought Iâd better show.â
Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasnât about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.
âRight,â you said, glancing down at the clipboard. âWell, thereâs an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe youâd sit out.â
Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. âOr you could partner with someone else.â
You blinked at her, caught off guard. âWell, yeah, I guess, but we donât really haveââ
âYou could partner with Daddy.â Laura said it so simply, like it wasnât a big deal, like she hadnât been plotting this for weeks.
Loganâs eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didnât say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.
You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. âIâI donât know if thatâs a good idea...â
Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. âItâs just for the competition. Besides, itâll be fun.â
Loganâs gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. âItâs just a game, right? Weâll survive.â
Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. âLooks like youâre stuck with Logan, Y/N.â
You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with himâespecially with Laura being the mastermind behind itâwas another.
âOkay, fine,â you muttered, trying to act like this wasnât a big deal at all. âI guess weâll partner up.â
Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. âLetâs get this over with.â
Lauraâs eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.
As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.
"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.
You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."
Loganâs lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you donât keep up."
"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "Youâre the one with the bum leg."
Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "Iâll manage."
Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.
"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.
"As Iâll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.
The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Loganâs as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrousâLoganâs longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.
"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.
Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."
"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in syncâwell, mostly. Loganâs hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.
"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.
"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "Iâm pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."
"Couldâve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnât deny the way your heart was still racingâthough you werenât sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.
Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.
"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."
Logan grunted in agreement but didnât say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his faceâsomething you hadnât seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.
"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.
You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldnât help but laugh. "Oh, thisâll be fun."
Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didnât protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.
"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.
Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."
"Letâs see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like heâd rather be anywhere else.
"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.
"Careful, Y/N. Thatâs how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.
Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"
It was hard to ignore the pride in her voiceâshe was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.
By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldnât help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasnât as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.
"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.
"Donât get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "Weâll see how you do with the next one."
Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."
You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, itâs all about teamwork, right?"
Logan didnât say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something thereâsomething unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.
The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldnât help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.
As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.
"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasnât your idea of a fun day."
Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasnât so bad."
You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, Iâm glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."
"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "Sheâs a good kid."
"She is," you said, nodding. "And sheâs lucky to have you."
Logan didnât respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."
There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.
"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Letâs get outta here."
As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."
"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."
---
It had been a few days since the Valentineâs Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.
Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.
"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought itâd be nice."
You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasnât exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.
"Sure," you said, smiling. "Iâd like that."
Dinner at Loganâs place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonightâsofter, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line youâd both been careful to avoid.
As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Loganâs, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.
âThanks for coming,â he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.
âAnytime,â you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between youâsomething that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.
Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. âY/N, can you help me with my English homework?â she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadnât just interrupted a moment.
You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. âOf course, I can take a look.â
âGreat!â Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. âItâs this essay Iâve got to write.â
Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Lauraâs book with an expression you couldnât quite read. âIâll leave you two to it, then,â he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.
You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. âAlright, letâs see what youâve got here.â
Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and sheâd clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.
âLaura⊠this is really good,â you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. âI donât think you need help with this.â
Lauraâs face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. âJust wanted to make sure it was okay,â she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.
Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Lauraâs little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the patternâtiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.
âWell, your essayâs great,â you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. âBut I think thereâs more going on here than just English homework.â
Lauraâs gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyesâsomething far beyond her years. âHeâs lonely,â she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.
Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasnât exactly the type to talk about his feelingsâor admit he might need someone else in his life.
âMaybe,â you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. âBut thatâs something he has to figure out on his own, okay?â
Laura nodded slowly, but she didnât look entirely convinced. âHe likes you,â she said, blunt as ever. âAnd you like him.â
Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasnât the first time Laura has said something like this. âItâs not that simple, Laura.â
âWhy not?â she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didnât understand.
You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicatedâthat you werenât sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Lauraâs teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.
âI just⊠donât want to mess things up,â you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.
Lauraâs gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. âYou wonât.â
Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. âEverything okay?â he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldnât quite pinpoint.
âYeah, weâre good,â you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Lauraâs words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. âI should probably get going, though. Itâs getting late.â
Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyesâsomething that almost looked like disappointment. âIâll walk you out.â
He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldnât help but smile back.
âThanks again for coming,â Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.
âAnytime,â you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Loganâs gaze on you.
There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.
âLogan, Iââ
âY/N, Iââ
You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.
âYou first,â Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.
You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. âI just⊠I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Lauraâs been⊠well, playing matchmaker or something,â you added with a chuckle, âbut I just want you to know that Iâm notââ
âUsing her as an excuse to get close?â Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.
You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. âYeah.â
Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.
"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But thisâtonightâit wasnât just about her."
You blinked, surprised by his admission. You werenât used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight heâd been in.
"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "itâs not just her, Y/N. I didnât mind tonight. And thatâs not something I say often."
Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you werenât expectingâa side of him that he clearly didnât let out much, if at all.
"I didnât mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you werenât taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, sheâs got a way of seeing things."
Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think sheâs too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.
"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."
Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybeâjust maybeâthere was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Loganâs strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Loganâs presence so close, it felt different. More personal.
"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I donât exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... youâre good with Laura. And youâreâ" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasnât sure if he should say the next part. "Youâre good for us."
Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you werenât sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasnât sayingâthe layers beneath that simple statement. Youâre good for us. It wasnât just about being Lauraâs teacher anymore. It was about something more.
Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. âGood for you?â you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Loganâsomeone who didnât let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.
"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldnât help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Loganâs usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.
You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.
âI think Lauraâs got something figured out,â you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. âSheâs smart enough to see whatâs happening here.â
Loganâs lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. âYeah, too smart sometimes.â His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different thereâsomething raw. âBut sheâs right. Youâre good for us. Hell, youâre good for me.â His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, youâd been hoping to hear them for a while.
You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. âLogan, IâŠâ You started to say somethingâanythingâto break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.
And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. âI donât say things like this often,â he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, âbut I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.â
Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasnât just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.
âIâve wanted to stay close,â you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldnât help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.
Loganâs gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded awayâthe cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.
Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.
His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadnât let yourself think about for so longâfilled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.
Logan kissed like he livedâintensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.
When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Loganâs forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.
âIââ you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.
âDonât,â he muttered, shaking his head slightly. âDonât ruin it with words, not yet.â
You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Loganâs body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.
After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. âDidnât think thisâd happen,â he admitted, almost to himself.
You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. âMe either.â
His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.
For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another partâthe stronger partâwanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.
Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.
tags: @freythecrazyfae
Seems I need to read this. Onward!


