#catverine

Logan was filing mission reports, again. Scott had told him to get these in by last night, and he'd forgotten. So, here he was, 12 hours later, sitting in the communal kitchen, filling out paperwork.

He sighed and scratched another report off of his list, and moved on to the next one. Quiet footsteps echoed in the hall and slowly approached the kitchen, the scent of the person slowly floating into the room. It was you.

"Logan?" You murmured, your hair messy and disheveled. You rubbed your eyes lazily, staring at him with one half-lidded eye as you spoke.

He glanced over to you, fighting back a growl as he signed his name for the eighth time tonight. His eyes studied your body, closely tracing over how your oversized t-shirt draped over your body and how your sweatpants hung on your hips.

"What d'ya want?" He murmured, forcing his gaze back to the papers below him as he spoke.

"What're you doing?" You asked in a desperate attempt to deflect the question. Truthfully, you just wanted some water. But, on the way to the kitchen, you had remembered how Logan would probably be drinking or snoring on the kitchen island like he usually does. Instead, he was nose deep in paper work, his brows furrowed deep into his forehead as he scribbled down the required dates and names. His focused expression mesmerized you for a moment, his knotted brows and subtle scowl complimenting his gruff features. Your eyes slowly lingered down to his body, your eyes gluing to the way his white wife-beater cling to his torso and the way his wide belt with a cowboy-like buckle hugged his hips and held his jeans in place.

You slowly made your way over to him as he stayed silent, furiously noting down some important details. You hoisted yourself on your tippy toes and snooped over his shoulder, the large words, 'MISSION REPORT,' being printed on the top of each paper. He noticed the way you impatiently peered over his shoulder, choosing to keep his eyes glued to the papers below him rather than riling you up.

"Paperwork. Summers wants it on his desk by end of today, I forgot, so..." He gave a small growl. "Stupid, but it's got to be done."

Logan kept scratching his pen across the paper, but in the back of his mind, he was carefully watching your every move. He fought the goosebumps that threatened to trail up his back as the fabric of your shirt grazed his back, the subtle and insignificant touch crumbling his train of thought.

"Well," You began, staring down at the paperwork before continuing. "You need any help?" You smiled softly, secretly hoping that the fact that your brother assigned all of this strenuous, meaningless busy-work didn't cause him to brush you off and just ignore you completely.

Logan glanced over to you as you spoke, his eyes locking with yours. His heart skipped a beat at your soft smile, collecting all of his self control in order to fight the urge to jump up and say yes before begging you to stay another for just another minute. He swallowed hard and grumbled softly before responding, dropping his eyes back down to the paperwork caged between his forearms.

"No, I got it. Just..." He let out a small frustrated sigh. "Don't wanna mess up and have Scott on my ass again."

You stayed silent for a moment, biting down on your bottom lip in thought as you tried to come up with some kind of solution for him. After a moment or two, it came to you, the possibilities of his response to it making your mind and heart race.

"Well, he is my brother. I'm sure I can sweet talk him to give you another day or two." You grinned softly, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the kitchen island with your hip. Logan chuckled a bit, placing down the pen and resting his hands on the marble countertop.

"Really, now?" He smirked, leaning forward just an inch or two as if he were dipping his toes into the restless waters that separated you two.

"I've convinced him to be forgiving on worse people," You teased, your grin widening as you tried to stand strong against his devilish smirk. You gripped the countertop tighter, your heartbeat quickening at how he inched closer and closer to you.

"Is that right?" He asked, perking an eyebrow while still smirking, enjoying the playful banter.

Logan leaned on his elbows and looked up at you with soft eyes, the paperwork becoming caged between his elbows as he leaned against them and locked his eyes with yours. His heart was beating a little faster, too, even though he tried to act unphased by the interaction.

"And why exactly would you do that for me, sweetheart?" He purred, his smirk widening just a bit as he watched you melt under his gaze. You couldn't help but smile at the pet name, naturally diverting your eyes to the countertop before meeting his eager stare once again with rosy cheeks.

"Seems like you need a break. I just wanna do you a favor," you prayed he couldn't smell your excuse as you stared down into his hazel eyes, the brown blending perfectly with the golden hues to create the magical whirlpools that were his irises. You mirrored him just a bit, leaning in an inch closer to him as if you were cautiously approaching some kind of feral animal.

A small, dry chuckle left his lips as he stared up at you, his heart lightly pounding against his ribs as he tried to keep his signature grin plastered onto his face.

"You wanna do favors for a cranky, old, tired man?" He asked, subtly raising his eyebrows as he looked at you with playful disbelief. "I don't know why a pretty young thing like you would even bother." He uttered under his breath, keeping it low enough for you and only you to hear. He didn't move away, his posture tense but also relaxed as he stared up into your eyes, eagerly awaiting your response.

"You think I'm pretty?" You grinned, jumping at the opportunity to tease him about anything he would offer you. He smiled sheepishly and tore his gaze away from you, chuckling lowly. The rumble of his chest almost made your heart beat quicken even faster. You could feel your cheeks flush even more, heat radiating throughout your face as you tried your best to stay calm.

"And," you began, biting back your grin. "Wouldn't 'helping the elderly' look so good on my job applications?" You forced back a giggle as you spoke, trying your best to stay as stone faced as possible but failing miserably.

Logan's smirk got just a little bigger, realizing you were poking fun at him. He let out a huff of amusement, his eyes scanning you up and down, quickly studying your stoic yet flustered expression.

"You're a real smartass, aren't you?" He chuckled, staring up at you with a soft grin. "But yeah, you are pretty. Too pretty to be helping an old guy like me." He diverted his eyes from yours, staring down at the paperwork below him as he waited for you to respond.

His words made your heart skip a beat, the genuine kindness genuinely catching you off-guard. Your lips hung open as you thought of something to say, the words slipping out before you could even think about it.

"Says who?" You murmured, your brain becoming consumed in a fog as you impulsively leaned even closer to him. Your faces were maybe six inches apart, his breath ghosting your chin and neck. You swallowed hard before turning on your heel so your back was facing him and sitting down on his lap, your legs hanging off one side with your thighs rested on top of his, your shoulder pressed into his chest. You could feel him tense from underneath you, his thighs and shoulders becoming boulders as you waited for him to push you off or order you to go back to bed.

Logan's breath hitched in his throat, a shiver running down his spine as he felt your thighs settle onto his own. He could smell your perfume and the scent of your skin; it all becoming intoxicating in a way. It took all of his self control to not to grab you and bury his face deep in your neck, taking in as much as he can of you and burning it into his memory.

His hands gripped the edge of the countertop, coincidentally caging you, but that was the only sign that he was struggling to control himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but it felt dry as no sound managed to come out.

"Is this too much?" You whispered, your eyes half lidded as your hand drifted to his wrist, your nails gently tracing up his forearm until it reached his shoulder. You could feel him shudder from underneath your touch, his reaction only fueling you to push further. You rubbed his tense shoulder with your thumb, the bare skin underneath the pad of your finger fogging your mind even further. Your eyes danced between his tense posture and his flustered expression, a grin slipping onto your face.

Logan swallowed hard, a small shiver running through him again as his attention became completely absorbed by your simple yet exhilarating touch. He subtly clenched his jaw before forcing himself to speak. He didn’t want you to think he was struggling, but God, did he want to touch you so badly right now.

He shook his head, forcing words out of his tightened throat. "Not at all," he mumbled back, his voice low as a growl.

"Is this?" You whispered, your hand gradually drifting up to cup his cheek. His eyes briefly fluttered shut as your hand moved from his shoulder to his cheek, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Your thumb gently traced his cheekbone, your breaths interlinking as your faces came closer together. The distance was shortened to maybe 4 inches, his breath fanning over your entire face, causing it to feel even hotter. If you could look through his eyes, you were sure you'd look like some flustered, fumbling fool.

His heart was racing, and he could surely hear your heart beating as well. He softly leaned into your touch, relishing the feeling of your skin against his. His senses were on fire and all he could think about was how much he needed to be closer to you.

He could feel the heat spreading up his neck as he spoke. "No..." He barely mumbled out, his voice faltering just a bit.

You kept your lips just barely parted as you leaned in ever so slowly, trying your best to give him plenty of time to push you away or usher you back to bed. He doesn't, however, letting you press a soft, gentle kiss onto his lips. It's not rushed or desperate; it's simply just a silent admission to what you have been feeling for months now.

Logan's eyes widened as your lips pressed against his. For a brief moment, he seemed startled, as if he couldn't quite believe this was happening. But that feeling soon faded away as his eyes fluttered shut, tentatively returning the kiss. His lips moved against yours gently at first, but became more firm as he began to get comfortable. He brought a trembling hand down, resting it on your thigh. He needed some sort of anchor or he was going to go mad with desire.

Logan's hand kneaded your thighs softly, the soft whimpers slipping from his lips and his eager touch making your heart howl in your chest. He knew this was going to end up in trouble. He was way too old for you, you were too much of a tease, but in that moment, he couldn't care less. The taste of your lips, the feel of your body pressed against him, it was driving him mad and he only wanted more. The kiss deepened and a low rumble escaped his throat as his tongue gently traced the shape of your lower lip.

"Logan," you whispered, using the second he gave you to gather your breath to utter his name instead. Logan's heart slammed against his chest at the thought of you saying his name. The way it sounded on your lips sent a shiver through him and made the burning desire in his gut flare up even more. Hearing his name from your lips was like a drug to him, and he endlessly wanted more. He needed to hear it again.

"Say it again," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and needy. You let your other hand drift up and grip his other shoulder, using his strong physique as an anchor.

"Logan," you whined, almost as a question, before he began kissing you deeper and longer. You had to fight to get a sip of air, his lips sucking and caressing yours to the point they turned pink and puffy.

Logan hummed against your lips appreciatively as you said his name. Hearing the sound come from your lips again, sounding even more needy and desperate than the first time, was like music to his ears. It sent shivers down his spine, and all of his restraint slowly but surely faded to nothing. He needed you in any way he could have you.

His hands adjusted to grip your hips tightly, effortlessly lifting you so you were properly straddling his lap. He pulled you flush against him, his hands sliding under your shirt to touch your skin. You couldn't but gasp at the feeling of his calloused fingers exploring your ribs and back, the idea of his touch alone being enough to scatter goosebumps amongst your entire body.

He groaned into the kiss as he felt your skin underneath his fingertips. He could feel your body heat, your soft skin, and even the pattern of your breathing – it was all driving him insane. The need for more was growing within him every passing second. He nipped at your bottom lip as his tongue pressed against your mouth, begging for you to let him in.

"You couldn't even treat my sister to taking her to your room first?" The voice threw you miles away from the moment between you two, your mind racing as your eyes flew to the doorway. Your brother, in his X-Men branded pajamas, leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and his sunglasses just barely covering his eyes. Your heart dropped as you studied his stoic, possibly disappointed, expression. Your hands rested on Logan's neck as he closed his eyes tight, hoping that if he prayed enough Scott would just walk back to his room on his own.

"Well, I started it..." You murmured, your cheeks flushing into a deep pink as you admit such a thing to your brother.

"I don't care who kissed who." He pushed himself off the doorway, pulling a hand off of his chest to point between you two. "I just don't want to see any ass prints on the counters in the morning." He said simply, turning on his heel and leaving as quickly as he came.

Your body ached with every slight movement, your head pounding as you breathed heavily through your mouth. Your nose was stuffed closed, your allergies wishing the worst upon you this past weekend. The only thing keeping you from letting the sickness lure you to the bright white light was your boyfriend's arms tightly wrapped around your middle as his breath fanned over your barren shoulder.

"Logan..." You murmured, your throat scratchy from the lack of use. He hummed in response, softly bumping his nose into the base of your jaw to let you know he was still awake.

"Yes, princess?" He purred, his eyes fluttering open to glance at your defeated expression. "I can't take it anymore..." You whined dramatically, your voice becoming nasally as you spoke a bit louder. He chuckled in response, his grin pressing into your neck before he laid soft kisses along the skin.

"Your stupid powers make you immune... yet I have to suffer." You grumbled while subtly glaring at him the best you could, the only thing breaking your scowl being his dozen of kisses that trailed up to your cheek.

"If I could give them to you, I would, baby," He murmured before closing his eyes softly, his breath slowing as he lulled himself to sleep.

You groaned before jutted your elbow into his ribs in response, his comforting voice and mind-numbing pet names making your torture just a little more bearable. Logan hissed at the sudden pain, his grip on you tightening as he softly nibbles on the shell of your ear as revenge.

"Don't fall asleep," You grumbled, turning onto your opposite side to face him with a pout. He stared at you with half-lidded eyes and a lazy grin, his eyes full of adoration as he gazed at you silently.

"I can try," He smiled dopey-like and adjusted his hands so they were resting on your hips. You scooted closer to him, your head practically resting in his chest.

"Thank you..." You whispered, letting your eyes flutter shut as you wrapped your arms around his torso. He pulled you into him and chuckled lowly, laying a soft kiss on the crown of your head. His grip tightened ever so slightly as he subtly breathed in your scent.

"Anytime," he murmured, his voice low as you could hear his heartbeat slow down. You smiled softly as your headache suddenly dissipated as if his touch was capable of miracles.

Truthfully, you never thought it would get this serious either. You thought it would stay as hushed touches underneath the table and secret meetups in the middle of the night. However, it slowly became nightly visits with breakfast in the morning and long talks after sex about everything and nothing all at once. At first, the kisses were rough and impatient as if the want between you two could dissipate within seconds. Now, they're slow and passionate, as if you two are trying to savor the feeling of one another as long as humanly possible. You let yourself fall into this comforted delusion, the high of his affection and attention fooling you well enough to believe that he valued you just as much as you did him. He wrapped you around his finger, every tug and pull of the string beckoning you deeper into this pit you two dug for yourselves. The way you two hid in the shadows when it first started was intoxicating, the thrill of it all only made you crave him more.

After a few months, you two get lazy, his friends and your family catching you two looking at each other for a moment too long or your hands resting in one another just barely in their sight. He chooses to let your connection remain unnamed, the reality of what has blossomed between you two almost terrifying him.

You distinctly remember the moment he asked for this thing between you two to have as few strings attached as possible, especially because of the work you two do. Having a romantic partner while fighting rogue mutants or recruiting scared ones only hurts you in the end, he said. He can't let this become a weakness between us, he said.

However, he said that moments after pleasuring you in the passenger seat of his Jeep, your slick soaking into his jeans from where he wiped his fingers off. An overbearing pit formed in the center of your chest as you adjusted your underwear and sat up straight, his words drifting around in your mind like a fog muffling everything else around. The pit only grew wider as he tried to suggest a round two, his hand firmly gripping your thigh with his trademark smirk.

He was bizarre like that, constantly feeling the need to set boundaries between you two after sharing an intimate or even romantic moment. It made your heart sink every time. The subtle giddiness of finally getting a little closer diminished as quickly as a candle flame as he asked for another break from hanging out or tried to distract you with having sex again. You slowly grew to adapt to it, eventually getting used to the week-long breaks of not seeing each other after you two share too romantic of a moment for him. You could never brush it off, though. It was always confusing as to why he ran the moment it looked anything like a serious relationship. It was like he was repulsed by it and possibly even terrified of committing to anything even slightly real.

He would contradict himself often, however. For example, after just a few weeks of fooling around, he asked if you would be up for a week-long mini-vacation in his cabin hidden deep in the Canadian Woods. But after just a few days of acting like a real couple, such as washing each other dishes and making the bed for one another, he suddenly pulled himself away, cutting the vacation off shorter than planned. These sudden shutdowns on the intimate moments between you caused you to grow uneasy during moments that made your heartbeat quicken or your stomach flutter. You feared he would tear himself away from you, furiously unwanting of anything even adjacent to a legitimate relationship. You kept yourself afloat on the highs of the connection you two had; the late-night pillow talks and the way he let you rest on his chest while he was still half asleep most mornings letting you believe in this 'relationship' for just a moment longer.

You craved so much of a real, tangible relationship but knew that if you tried to push towards anything similar to it, Logan would repulse back into his gruff shell and maybe even call this whole thing off. You clung onto him when you two cuddled in the early morning as if he might vanish from right underneath your fingertips. Some mornings, you were partially convinced he would. 

There was one moment in particular, just a few months after you two began this thing, that snapped you out of this deluded trance he had you under. He had invited you to have dinner with all of his friends at the X-Mansion. Of course, you eagerly accepted, a part of you curious about what he would present you two as to the people he knows best. You wore the best outfit you could find and put some charms in your hair, hoping both Logan and his friends notice how hard you tried to present yourself. Your hard work is rewarded with scruffy cheek kisses and his arm wrapped around your waist, silently but proudly showing you off for once. You let yourself drift into the clouds, the chatty air and warmth of his body against yours letting you wonder if this will feel all the same 3, 6, or even 9 months from now. If he lets it go on for that long, you remind yourself, but that thought soon fades away as he kisses the shell of your ear, attracting your attention.

“Kid?” He whispered, his breath ghosting the nape of your neck. You nodded in response, your hand dancing across your thighs to his as you searched for his hand. Once you found it, you held it tightly, turning slightly so he could look you in the eye.

“Yes?” You murmured back, your gaze curious as you waited for his response. Your thumb rubbed along his knuckles, the thick scars that acted as gateways for his claws becoming seemingly nothing more than road bumps as your thumb traveled along them.

His eyes bounced between your lips and your eyes, his hand gripping yours before he spoke, “They're askin’ you a question.”

You blinked at him for a moment as he slowly and softly grinned, soft chuckles rippling from the opposite side of the table. You turned to his friends, sheepish grins greeting you before the woman with ice-white layered onto top of her auburn brown hair spoke up.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” her southern accent warm and slick like honey as she spoke. “We all know he’s got some kind of charm about him.” She glanced at him briefly, assumingly teasing him, before meeting your eyes once again.

“But,” she began, leaning back in her seat as she stretched briefly. “What I asked was how long have you two been seeing each other?” She repeated, a soft grin complimenting her features as she, and the whole table, awaited your answer.

“Uh,” you began, glancing over to Logan before speaking. “About a month now,” you answered, unable to bite back your grin as you grip his hand tighter. He loosened slightly, a silence falling among the table as they waited for Logan to say something.

“But it’s nothing serious,” He mumbled, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve as he quickly yet gently slipped his hand out from underneath yours. Your eyes slowly raised to meet his, confusion and hurt swirling inside of you as you desperately tried to come up with a response. 

“Yeah,” you agree, staring down at the wooden table as you rest your hands on your lap. “Just casual dates now and then.” Your heart squeezed as you lied to their faces, every muscle in your body screaming for you to declare the truth and what you truly wanted from him. You swallowed your courage deep down, however, and stared up at him as you silently begged him to say something for you.

He stayed silent, avoiding your gaze as he took in a few thick gulps of his wine. He placed the glass back onto the table with a thud, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he kept his eyes glued down to the wooden table in front of him. A thick and awkward silence fell upon the table as everyone tried to subtly brush it off, his shell fully entrapping him as he kept silent and refused to look anyone in the eye.

You decided to let him space out from what little time was left of this dinner of sorts, making sure to glance at him through the corner of your eye now and then to make sure he hadn't mysteriously vanished out of thin air. 

After a while of awkward small talk and attempts to gain Logan’s attention and failing, you decided to start leaving. The second you stood up from the table, it was like he woke up from his trance. His eyes flew up to meet yours, confusion swirling in them as he gripped his half-drunken beer can tight enough to hear the metal crack and crinkle. 

“It's been a fun night,” you forced a grin on your face to make the lies easier. “But I’m gonna head home. It's getting late, anyways,” You lazily explained, stepping away from your chair and pushing it in as you spoke.

Logan quickly finished off his beer and stood up next to you, his hands burrowing into his pockets as he nodded goodbye to the others. You glanced at him briefly before turning on your heel and heading to the front door with haste. Before your fingers could curl around the golden doorknob, his hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back from the door just slightly. You slowly turned to face him, your lips pressed into a thin line as you waited for him to speak.

His lips hung open for a moment, his words running away from him, before he composed himself and spat it out. “You're not staying over?” He murmured, his voice quiet as if he was scared someone could hear him. 

You slowly shook your head and gently tugged your wrist out of his grasp. “I thought we were nothing serious,” you retorted, taking a step back and crossing your arms as you carefully examined his reaction. 

His eyes widened and his hand hovered in the air from where he was holding you, seemingly frozen in shock. “I…” He began, his lips hanging open as his voice faded into silence. He slowly adjusted himself, combing his fingers through his hair and breathing deeply before speaking up once more.

“That's not what I meant,” he grumbled, his brows furrowed in annoyance as he tried to explain it in a better, kinder way. 

“What did you mean, then?” You shot back, your face contorting into a scowl as your patience ran thinner and thinner. He stared back into your eyes with a glare, his lips curling into a frown as silence fell between you two. “Well?” You exclaimed, dramatically shrugging your shoulders as your anger slowly bubbled over. 

He grumbled and stomped toward you, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips crashed onto yours, roughly sucking and nipping at the plush flesh. You naturally whined into the kiss, your eyes fluttering shut like reflex before flying back open as you snapped back to reality. You placed your palms against his chest and pushed as hard as you could, making him stumble a few steps back and stare at you in surprise.

“The hell?” He grumbled, standing up straight and wiping his mouth with the back of his jacket sleeve. The sight of it only made your anger boil hotter in your stomach, your hands balled into fists as you tried to fight back the urge to yell and curse him out. 

“That doesn’t answer my question, asshole,” you uttered under your breath, glaring up at his hazel eyes as you tried your hardest to keep his friends unaware of your quiet argument. “A kiss doesn’t answer my question, Logan,” you clarified, your tone becoming more neutral as your initial anger faded slightly.

You watched as his eyes scanned your face as if he was wishing for the answer to be written on your forehead. His features soured with a twinge of disgust before he finally spoke. “You are so…” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose before locking his eyes with yours.

“I want to be with you, kid,” he sternly explained, resting one hand on his hip as the other moved around as he spoke. You shook your head gently, diverting your gaze for a moment as you came up with the courage to question him further. 

“When will this stop being so… casual? When will the thrill of it eventually bore you?” Your second question is much more vicious than the first, all of your built-up frustration slowly seeping through the cracks.

His eyes bore into you as the silence became deafening, the chatter from the room down the hall being the only thing keeping your ears from ringing. “What’re you talking about?” He murmured under his breath, his stern stare becoming more curious as he waited for you to answer him.

You couldn't help but begin to ball your hands into fists, your anger practically seething through you as you tried to explain. "You are terrified to say we love each other." The words fought their way off your tongue, causing them to sound mean and grisly.

Logan slowly turns to face you completely, his face drenched in offended confusion. "Because we don't?" He murmured as if it was an obvious truth that should've been known from the start.

Your anger only boiled hotter, all of your inner turmoil feeling like magma in your gut. "Are you serious? Are you?" You barked at him, glaring daggers into him as he continued to act dumb.

"You're going to tell me, to my fucking face, that all of this isn't even adjacent to love to you? Is it truly just a fling?" You asked him, your eyes wide in desperation and despair as you begged for his answer. You have wondered these questions since the moment he kissed you, always wondering what made you special enough to have this connection with him. You feared it was the exact opposite; nothing at all.

He stayed silent for one moment, then two, and then three. He stared into you with a stern expression on his face, emotions washing over his eyes in waves as he thought of something to say. What was he supposed to say? 'I don't know?' Maybe, 'I'm too scared to tell myself, let alone you?' Logan grumbled to himself and tore his eyes from yours, staring down at the floor as he stayed silent.

You sighed to yourself, crossing your arms against your chest before staring up at him in disbelief. You pressed your lips together as you thought of something snarky to say, your brain leaving you fruitless as your stomach churns from the reality of the situation. He doesn't know. Or, at least, he doesn't want you to know. You decide to stop wasting your time and you turn to pluck your jacket off of the coat hanger, glancing at Logan over your shoulder before turning to face the front door.

"Goodnight, Logan," you murmured, your voice wavering as you spoke. You swiftly opened the door and slid out to the porch before he could respond, nearly running to your car as tears pricked the corner of your eyes. "Fuck," you whispered to yourself as a tear slid down your cheek, the emotions of it all slowly bubbling over. You tugged at the car door handle roughly, anxiously spamming the unlock button until it finally gave in. You threw yourself into the driver's seat, sobs racking through your body as you weakly shut the car door. You couldn't help but hold your face in your hands as tears poured out of your eyes, all of your frustration for the past five weeks causing you to break into a million pieces.

Your breakdown is interrupted by a quick knock against the car door window, a rugged Logan greeting you on the other side. You lazily wiped your nose and apprehensively rolled down the window, giving him one last chance to explain himself before you gave up on this thing between you two. He stared at you through his eyelashes, his eyes dancing between his hands that gripped the car door and your puffy-eyed gaze. 

"Listen," he began, his voice rough as he adjusted himself against the door slightly. He leaned into the car just a bit, staring into your eyes as he spoke. “I  want you… in a way I haven’t felt with anyone else before. It… might be love,” He almost spit out the last few words because of it being such a foreign thing to him.

“But, all I know is that I want you next to me. I don't want to lose this. I can’t.” His voice got low as he said the last sentence, his eyes full of vulnerability. You pursed your lips together in thought as you let his words sink in, his apology and explanation nearly convincing you to give him a second chance on the spot. You diverted your eyes from his, staring at the wheel before finally responding to him.

“I’ll call you,” you said, switching the gear into drive & slowly making your way down the driveway. He followed the car for a moment, his hands still gripping the car door. But once your words sunk in, he slowly let go, and helplessly watched as you left.

You kept your promise and called him the second you got enough courage to the following morning. He didn't answer for a moment, and when he did, his voice was rough as if he had just woken up. 

“Logan?” You murmured, quieter than you intended to as a part of you was scared of how he was going to react to you following through and not simply ghosting him. Not that he would know what that means. You hear him hum in response, soft shuffling and such causing his mic to crinkle and crackle. 

“Did you mean what you said last night? Or was it the booze?” You asked, a part of you taunting him and a part of you genuinely wondering if he was sincere. The other line was silent for a moment, then another, before he awkwardly coughed and spoke up. 

“I meant it. The booze got me to say it,” He explained, a soft chuckle adorning the end of the sentence. “You think you love me?” You murmured, almost whispering in fear that he might suddenly hang up. You heard him grunt in agreeance, a long silence stretching throughout the call as you two thought of something to say to the other.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you let his silent acknowledgment answer all of the other questions you had stored inside. “Logan, I…” You breathed, the sound of your heartbeat beating in your ears almost muffling his acknowledging hum. “You're so stupid,” You said simply, chuckling softly as most of the built-up fear and anxiety slowly crumbled away.

He gave a short laugh before replying with a snarky grin you could practically hear over the phone. “For once, I can't argue against that.” You bit back a grin at his words, his silent yet loud apology having warmed your chest. 

“You wanna come over at noon? Y’know, try this whole ‘meet the family’ thing over again?” He offered, just the thought of him calling you two something more than casual making your heart skip a beat. You hummed in agreeance, quickly saying goodbye before you gushed about it over the phone to him. 

You couldn't help but sigh in relief after you hung up the phone, a handful of rocks being lifted from your shoulders. There was still a lot to fix between the two of you, but at least this was a start. 

“Is this it?” You questioned the taxi driver, the bright street lights that illuminated the parking lot blinding you briefly. The man hummed back in acknowledgment, impatiently tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. You gave a quick nod before you grabbed your backpack and slid out of the cab. He drove off the second you closed the door, his tires screeching against the asphalt and gaining the attention of the few bikers outside. You kept your eyes glued to the ground as you made your way into the old barnhouse. You could hear muffled grunts and cheers through the metal walls, the sounds only echoing louder as you stepped inside.

The interior was covered with animal furs, random abandoned architecture, and a metal fighting ring in the center. There were bikers, mercenaries, hunters, and hillbillies filling every corner of the room as you make your way to the center, your eyes glued onto the hunched man in the corner.

His barren back shined against the cheap fluorescent lights as smoke rose from where he was standing, crashing and wrapping around the sides of his head as it tried to find its way to the sky. A bell rang loudly as a skinny man with a red plaid shirt gets dragged out of the ring, his head hung in defeat. You couldn't help but swallow hard at the sight, your eyes drifting back to the mysterious man leaning against the corner of the fighting ring.

“Gentleman,” the round, bearded man called through the microphone. “Personally, I never seen anything like that. Have you?” He gestured the microphone to the crowd with a lopsided grin, a roar of agreeance and beer-fueled rage from the audience nearly popping your eardrums. “That's what I like to hear!” He yelled into the mic, the last few words becoming a growl as his excitement seethed through him.

“Now,” He held out his hand to signal the crowd to quiet down, and they did. “Are you just gonna let this man walk away with your money?” He points his finger at the man puffing away, his hand shaking slightly as he tries to rile the audience up. They roared in response, many men even throwing their cans up into the air and pushing through the crowd to kiss the metal fence wrapped around the ring.

“I’ll fight him!” A man yelled, throwing his handful of jackets off and racing towards the ring. The announcer chuckled in to the mic, picking up the man's fist once he made his way inside and letting the audience roar in approval. The bell rang three times and the announcer shuffled off the stage with haste as the man eagerly ran to kick the shirtless brunette in the base of his spine. He growled in response, his body crashing into the metal fence before the man threw punch after punch into his jaw.

The drunken man grinned at how the record-breaker knelt over himself, holding his stomach with his free hand as the other held him up. The man kicked his ribs as hard as he could, his grin widening as the brunette finally attempted to stand. You watched as the shirtless man grunted and slowly picked himself up, his eyes full of fury. He balled his hands into fists and stared the drunken man down. He decided to throw another punch, his body tumbling backward after the brunette's fist meets his. He looks down at the drunk with a scowl, his fist connecting to the man's face before he could even stand up. His back hit the metal fence of the ring, his body wandering forward before a head-butt knocked him down on his back.

The bell rang three times again, naming the brunette the victor once again. You watched in awe as he gave him a final kick, slowly making his way back into the corner so he could drink another shot of scotch and take another hit from his cigar.

“Tonight's winner, and still king of the cage,” The announcer yelled through the mic, slowly making his way inside the ring once more. “Wolverine!” He exclaimed, the crowd roaring in applause.

Watching the 'Wolverine' down a man with such ease and haste made your heart beat quicken if you were honest with yourself. There was no way in hell that he was that strong without something else going on, even if it's a mutation or not. A part of you was curious as to what made him so sturdy, and another part of you yearning to have that sturdiness somewhat guide you to something better than hopping bench-to-bench.

Ever since the mutant registration act got introduced to the senate, you’ve been anxiously bouncing from city to city to find someone who will hopefully give you a ride and take you to the next one. While also trying to stay on the move, you’ve been trying to keep your eyes peeled for anyone who seemed mutated like you. After all, if there were others like you, there had to be a safe haven for them somewhere. There had to be.

You swallowed your nerves and pushed through the crowd to make it to the ‘Wolverine’s’ side of the ring, your eyes briefly meeting his as you made your way closer and closer. As you eventually walked directly in front of him, his eyes bore into you as you tried to come up with something to say. He was standing about two feet above you, the fighting ring elevated onto a stage, making the height difference between you two even more drastic.

“Whaddya want, kid?” He growled, biting down on his cigar as his eyes subtly examined you. You swallowed once more, your nerves making your heart pound out your chest, and finally uttered something to make this exchange worthwhile.

“Can I, uh, buy you a drink? To celebrate your victory?” You asked, your cheeks flushing slightly as your piss-poor attempt to have a proper conversation with him seeming more like you wanting to suck his face.

His eyes met yours as you uttered the question, a perked brow and soft scowl repaying you. He stayed silent momentarily, taking a puff of his cigar before responding. “Sure. Order me a beer.” He replied simply, turning away from you as he slowly made his way outside of the ring. You bit back a grin as you rushed your way around the stage, your eyes scanning for the bar.

You finally found it and slipped into the nearest available stool. You could feel the bartender's eyes scan you as he made his way to your corner of the bar. You took in a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the man's standard questioning of newbies. Instead, he walked up in front of you with a wide grin and asked you what you would like. You told him you’d just like water and watched as he nodded and left to fulfill your request, your focus quickly diverting to search for the ‘Wolverine’ you were itching to talk to.

You waited thirty minutes, then an hour, and then two. You had sat there long enough for a handful of drunks to begin to snore on the booths and for the owners to begin counting their earnings for the night. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, anyways. A part of you was waiting for the Wolverine so he could give you a possible ride, yes, but the way he could down a man to his knees with just a few punches intrigued you. Maybe he was the lead you were searching for.

Finally, after what seemed like years, the gruff man took a seat beside you. He tapped the bar with his pointer finger and clicked his tongue, seemingly impatiently waiting for you to speak first as if he hadn’t left you hanging there for hours.

“Sorry, kid,” He began, the apology sounding bizarre coming off of his tongue. He coughed into his fist before continuing, refusing to look you in the eye. “I thought you were jokin’.” You stared down at the bar counter as you tried to come up with something to say that didn't sound too eager, too desperate, or too unforgiving.

“Do most girls tease you with a drink?” You questioned, leaning against the bar as you slowly raised your gaze to meet his. Maybe a flirt or two will get him chattier, you thought. He smiled softly and shook his head, still staring down at the counter. “Most girls don’t offer me one,” He corrected, glancing at you through the corner of his eye for just a moment.

You softly chuckled and smiled weakly, trying to avoid looking at him as much as he was doing you. “I oddly don't believe that.” You half-joked, struggling to keep your eyes off of him as the leather jacket against his faded jeans and plaid button-up made him look almost half as good as he did in the ring. You pushed down your risqué thoughts and tried to direct the conversation to something else to avoid flustering yourself.

“I actually didn’t offer you a drink just to flirt,” You begin, turning slightly on the stool so your body is facing him. You began to nervously pick at invisible dirt on the bar counter, slowly and carefully building the question in your mind. “I wanted to ask if…” Your eyes drifted from him to the drunken man he fought earlier, an angry scowl poisoning his features as he stood behind Wolverine with balled fists.

He impatiently tapped his shoulder, his brows furrowing deeper into his forehead as he spoke. “You owe me some money,” He grumbled, staring daggers into the brunette as the man peeked over his shoulder. His friend gently grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him away, but he ripped his arm free. “No man can take a beating like that with no marks to show for it.” Wolverine faced forward, taking another puff off of his cigar as he blatantly ignored the man.

The man’s scowl deepened, a frown bleeding over his features as he leaned into Wolverine’s ear. “I know what you are, do they?” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours for a moment. You swallowed hard at his words, helplessly watching as Wolverine gripped his cigar tighter, obviously fighting to give in to some kind of urge.

“You lost your money,” the brunette barked, only glancing at the man over his shoulder. “Keep this up, and you're losing something else.” He growled, tapping the ash off of his cigar as the drunken man’s friend attempted to pull him away again. You watched as the man pulled out a pocket knife from his jacket sleeve, your mouth opening to warn the brunette before you could fully process the moment.

“Watch out!” You screamed, the brunette turning in a second and pinning the drunken man to the wall. He had his fist hovering in front of his face, two long metal claws pressing into the sides of the man’s neck. The breath was stolen out of your lungs as you watched the third one slowly slide out his knuckles, hovering just centimeters above his jugular.

The bartender slowly took the shotgun from underneath the bar and aimed it at the base of Wolverine’s skull, the tip shaking slightly as the man spoke. “Get out my bar, freak,” He spat, his fingers only gripping the firearm tighter as he waited for the mutant to respond.

You couldn't help but gasp as he quickly turned and sliced the shotgun’s barrel in half, the gunpowder spilling onto the wooden flooring below. His eyes bounced between the drunken man, you, and the bartender before he dropped his hands to his sides, the claws slowly retracting back into his knuckles. You couldn't help but feel a bit giddy, the reward of trusting your gut being the strongest cage fighter around here that, coincidentally, had legitimate metal claws.

He grunted at the men before stomping off, not even glancing at you as he walked past. You awkwardly looked around the room, considering the options in your head, before blindly following him outside of the farmhouse. You watched as he hopped into his truck camper’s driver's seat, the car shaking slightly as he sat down. You quickly rushed out of the building and walked to his car, your hand hovering over the passenger side window as you considered if you should truly ask for this man’s protection.

He glanced at you for a moment, seemingly ignoring you, before his eyes flew up to meet yours once again. You watched as he subtly rolled his eyes before leaning over and opening the passenger side door, holding it open and simultaneously blocking you from getting in as he waited for you to explain yourself.

“Well, uh,” You began, your fingers weakly fiddling with the shoulder strap of your backpack as you tried to formulate a sentence. “That drunk cut me off, I was wondering if I could catch a ride and continue with what I was trying to say.” You fiddled with the strap as you anxiously awaited his answer, your nerves making your head and fingertips buzz with eagerness. He quickly glanced at the road in front of him, as if he was measuring how far he would take you, before subtly nodding. You couldn't hide the wide grin that slid onto your face as you hopped into the passenger seat, placing your backpack between your feet before securing your seatbelt.

He slowly started up the truck and began heading down the lonely road.

“Where to?” He grumbled, glancing at you through the corner of his eye as he waited for you to respond. “The nearest train station around.” You answered awkwardly while shrugging subtly, your response being the same answer you’ve told the last eight people who’ve driven you around a handful of states. He nodded slowly, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as he stared at the road ahead.

“What I was going to say was that I needed a ride, so thank you,” You began, diverting your eyes from his the best you could. “But… I wanted to know if you were like me. And you are.” You could see him glance at you through the corner of his eye, his brow perking in intrigue.

“And what would that be?” He asked, keeping his eyes glued to the road as he awaited your answer. You stammered for a moment, wondering if there was a kinder name for it, but you eventually gave up and ended up calling it what it is.

“Mutants. You have… claws, and I can make people see stuff.” The man glanced at you once more, staying silent as he processed your words. “Make people see stuff how?” You awkwardly laughed before softly presenting your abilities, creating a fly that circles around the brunette’s head over and over. He lazily swiped at his ears, glancing at you before he realized it was your doing. “Ah,” he hummed, nodding softly as you dissipated the illusion.

“It’s more than flies, obviously,” You smiled sheepishly as you spoke, nervously rubbing your hands together to gather some kind of warmth against the chill winter air. “Is your… thing more than just claws?” You asked, glancing at the man briefly before tearing your eyes from him, a part of you scared to get caught staring.

“Uh, not really,” He mumbled, tightening his grip on the wheel ever so slightly. “I can heal pretty well. That's ‘bout it.” You laughed softly at his answer, not taking it completely seriously. “I don't think that's much of a superpower,” You grinned, staring at the brunette softly. He glanced at you through the corner of his eye, his expression unchanging.

“There's nothing super ‘bout it. Dunno who told you that.” You stared at him for a moment, his words slowly sinking in. Did he not like his mutation? Was it some kind of... burden to him? Your eyes slowly drifted down to his knuckles, subtle scars lying where his claws would protrude from.

“When you use your claws, does it hurt?” You murmured, almost accidentally, as your eyes carefully studied his hands and wrists for any explanation of how his mutation worked. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel after you spoke, avoiding your lingering gaze as he kept driving.

“Every time.” He answered dryly, keeping his responses short as he tried to keep his focus directed onto the road ahead. Your eyes drifted up to meet his once again, your gaze slowly scanning his features and expression as you searched for any answers that could've been spotted with just a careful eye. Of course, you were fruitless.

His eyes finally left the road to glance down at your trembling hands, his calloused fingertips reaching for your wrist before he spoke. “Put your hands on the heater,” He mumbled, bringing your hands against the dashboard. “It’ll help.” He met your eyes briefly before staring down the road once more.

His touch felt almost electric, the feeling of physical touch after being starved of it for weeks feeling almost intoxicating at first. You quickly composed yourself, your focus being absorbed by the dashboard as the engine and the heater radiated warmth through your body.

After a few long moments of the car rumbling and bouncing around because of the bumpy road, your eyes eventually drifted to the dog tags that just barely dangled outside of his button-up shirt. The name 'Wolverine' was pressed into the metal, a mouthful of numbers listed below it.

“Is ‘Wolverine’ really your name?” You asked, hoping the words didn't come off as judgemental as they seemed. He shook his head softly, subtly shoving the necklace into his shirt, attempting to keep it out of view. “No.” He stated flatly, glancing at you briefly before continuing. “It's Logan.” Your eyes flew up to meet his, the drop of openness feeling like a tidal wave from such a gruff person like him.

“Mine’s Y/N.” You couldn't help but smile as you told him your name, your chest warming at the simple exchange between you two. He nodded slowly at your response, a small smile slipping onto his face.

“What’re you doing around here, anyways? You stuck out like a sore thumb back there.” He gestured his head back to the cage fighting ring, turning to face you briefly before focusing back on the road. You diverted your eyes from him as you tried to come up with an answer, your words becoming lost to you as you failed to rationalize the truth, even to yourself. How could you tell him that you've been homeless for weeks in fear of what the mutant Registration act would do to you and force your family to do? He would probably laugh and kick you out of the car, telling you to sleep the paranoia off and take the nearest bus home.

"It's stupid," you murmured, staring out the passenger side window to avoid even getting a glance at his expression. He hummed in response, staying silent for a moment or two before speaking up.

"Are you runnin'?" He asked, turning to look you in the eye for a second only for you to be looking in the opposite direction. You laughed softly, slowly shaking your head. "Something like that."

The car stayed silent for a few moments longer, the sound of the wind beating against the truck and the wheels bouncing against the snow-covered asphalt creating an almost comforting atmosphere in the vehicle.

As you stared down the road ahead, deep in thought, you rolled around your options in your head. You could stay silent until he dropped you off, or keep giving him shreds of who you are, hopefully kindling some kind of friendship. You swallowed down your nerves before speaking up, your mouth talking before your mind can.

"I was scared of hurting my family. Or the Registration act hurting them instead. So... I just ran. Blindly." The choice sounded even stupider as you said it aloud, the reality of your choices slowly sinking in. You were homeless and constantly on the move because of a hunch, because of a fear. You could tell Logan agreed with the way he grinned softly, a chuckle slipping from his lips.

"You weren't kidding." He replied simply, glancing at you through the corner of his eye as he spoke. You stared longingly at your hands that rested on the dashboard, so many feelings of frustration, guilt, and fear swirling inside of your gut all at once. You were truly and utterly stupid. There was no denying that anymore.

You got lost in your thoughts as you tried to come up with any other options you could've chosen other than packing a bag and hopping city-to-city until you could find some kind of home for mutants like you. You could've been honest with your parents and used your brain for longer than half an hour before fleeing home and jumping onto the nearest train heading north. You could've tried to act normal until the Registration act got put into place, constantly watching yourself so you don't expose your mutation to the public.

"Hey, kid," Logan called, gently tapping your hands that still desperately clasped the heated leather of the dashboard. You blinked multiple times before turning to face him, completely snapped out of your trance. "You did what you thought was right at the time. Don't beat yourself over it." He glanced at you between every few words, trying his best to maintain his focus on the road while also trying to make his words sound as genuine as possible.

"I just..." You murmured, your eyes diverting from his as you spoke. "I feel like a coward." Your eyes slowly filled with tears as you tried to find your words, your heart squeezing tighter and tighter with every second that went by.

"Hey..." Logan mumbled, his hand planting itself onto your thigh. He comfortingly tapped the skin before gripping the steering wheel once more, the gentle touch sending shivers throughout your body. "Don't think that way." He assured, gripping the wheel tighter as you failed to respond.

The sudden touch, the thoughts racing through your mind, and the way exhaustion washed over you in waves made processing this all so difficult. You stole a glance at him before humming in acknowledgment, subtly adjusting yourself in the passenger seat as you attempted to get comfortable. You could feel him stare at you through the corner of his eye, carefully watching as you curled up into the seat and fluttered your eyes shut. He smiled softly at the sight, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as he focused back on the road ahead.

"I'm just gonna..." You murmured, your lips hanging open as exhaustion dragged you down to sleep before you could even fight back. Logan just softly laughed, shaking his head as he glanced to witness your snoring body.

"You do that," he mumbled, trying his best to keep his voice low enough to not startle you awake. He couldn't help but grin as he replayed the entire conversation over in his head, the kid's bravery and determination intriguing him. The way they cowered into themselves made his stomach churn, however, an urge to carefully watch over them roaring over any other thought. He wondered how long you have been on the move and how you've managed to stay brave enough to not run back home the second you got the urge to.

If he had somewhere to go home to, especially a family, he'd run back the moment he could - even with this mutant registry bill being wedged into the law.

He had to admit, you intrigued him in a way no one has before. But, something gripped his attention just a little tighter. Two people stood in the center of the road, side by side, in matching black body suits. Logan perked a brow and slowed the truck to a stop, now being able to see the man on the right had a visor over his eyes and the woman on the left had ice-white hair with caramel skin.

What the hell could they want?

Your feet dangled off the washing machine as you scrolled through your phone, mindlessly liking and reposting any slightly funny posts you came across. You were wearing your favorite t-shirt with a pair of loose pajama shorts, the fabric of them pooling on top of the white metal of appliance as you idly swung your feet back and forth. You sighed deeply as the mindless scrolling eventually got boring, the time going by so much slower when you wake up before Logan in the mornings.

It was about 7:18 AM, the sun just barely bright enough to blind you if you stared at it for too long. Logan had a late mission last night, so it wasn't worrying, it was just mind numbingly monotonous.

You pursed your lips together in thought as you began to tap your fingers against the machine below you, your mind hopelessly searching for something to entertain yourself with. Before you could find anything satisfactory, Logan slowly walked up in front of you and caged you to the washing machine with his arms firmly planted on either side of you.

"G'morin'," He purred, his eyes fluttering open as they slowly met yours. You couldn't help but grin at the somnolent man, his disheveled hair and groggy expression making him look straight-up foolish.

"Good morning, handsome." Your grin widened as you leaned in for a quick kiss, an awkward second passing before his half-awake brain processed what was happening. You swiftly raised your hand to rest on his jaw, your palm shifting every now and then just to feel his mutton chops rustle against your skin. You let your thumb rest on his chin and softly rock side to side as you carefully studied his features.

He hummed softly before letting his hands rise from the washing machine to gently grasp the skin of your back and ribs, your body heat underneath his touch being enough to fog any coherent thoughts. He slowly pressed his forehead to yours and let your thumb slip in between his lips, his bottom teeth and tongue carrying it gracefully as he locked his eyes with yours.

You couldn't help but bite down on your lip at the sight, your core warming at how adorable and needy he was right now. It only burned hotter after he bit down gently on the digit, his eyes fluttering shut as he began to softly nibble on it. Giggles slipped out of you as your grin widened even further, his behavior making your heart race.

"Little kitty cat," you teased, slowly pulling your thumb out of his mouth and letting the sodden finger rest just above his facial hair. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips once again, his hands holding you even tighter as he quietly whined into the kiss.

meow meow