#xmne

Well, your mother, despite your words and concerns, continued to be insistent. As she always was. "Oh, you're being ridiculous!" She laughed, "It'll be fine! Just bring him. If he even exists. See you both Sunday, dear!" And then she hung up.

Now you were left with a real problem.

You didn't know when Logan would get home, so you sat on yours and Logan's bed and leaned back against the wall with a book in your hand. You had just finished your call with your mom, and before that, you checked in on Charles. You didn't know where Caliban was at that very moment, and you didn’t really care at the moment, to be truly honest with yourself. 

Hearing the bedroom door open no longer than thirty minutes later, you looked up from your book, still on the same page you were on when you had started; unable to really pay attention, your mind racing. Logan slowly walked in, tired as he sat down on the edge of the bed and began untying his shoes. Dropping your book on the bed beside you, you crawled over, taking a seat next to him. 

His poor hands - scars littered on his knuckles - trembled slightly as he fiddled with the laces. Slipping off the bed, you sat on the backs of your thighs in front of him as you began to undo his laces for him, removing his shoes. Logan sighed deeply, staring down at you with a frown on his face; he wasn't angry or upset with you, no, he was just frustrated with himself. He was old and his mutation - his healing factor - wasn't working much anymore. He hated it. He always appreciated all of your help, but he still felt frustrated.

For the next couple of minutes, you and Logan were both silent. Little grunts here and there as you helped him out of a black blazer, pants, and white button-up; leaving him in his briefs.

After you were done, you sat back down beside him, your hand taking his. Looking up at him, again, you could see how exhausted he was. His eyes stared down at the floor, eyelids heavy, a frown still on his face. Must have been a rough day at work; you’d just tell him everything about your mother’s call in the morning. You didn’t want to bother him more.

You sighed, the pad of your thumb brushing along his scarred knuckles before you raised his hand to your lips to press a kiss onto the back of it, smiling softly; he finally looked over at you.

"How about you shower, and I'll go check on Charles, okay?" You asked, before pressing a lingering kiss to his shoulder. "I'll be right back." You reluctantly let go of his hand and stood, giving him one last glance before leaving the room.

Logan watched after you until you were out of sight before he let out another deep sigh. Grunting, he stood, his body feeling heavy, making his way into the bathroom. He went into the shower, and turned it on full blast. The water was hot, causing him to shiver slightly, but he didn't complain. It felt nice against his aching skin. He shut his eyes, allowing the hot spray to try and relax him. 

When he got out, towel around his waist, he found you on the bed, already in your pajamas for the night. You watched as he dressed, his muscles still tense under his scarred and marred skin as he slid his wife-beater and sweats on. You wished for nothing more than to be able to take all of his pain away. If only your own mutation allowed for that…

Again, Logan said nothing as he slid into bed beside you, with a groan, he flipped onto his stomach. His face was buried into your chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively, your hands immediately carding through his graying hair; your nails gently scratching against his scalp.

Logan hummed at the feeling, relaxing further under your touch. "You're too good to me." He mumbled, his deep voice muffed by your sleep shirt - which was one of his. You stroked his hair, before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head, smelling his shampoo. His grip around you tightened slightly.

"You deserve it," You whispered, your fingers still threading through his hair, your other hand lowering to wrap around his shoulder; your hand pressed between his shoulder blades.

"I don’t know about that," He muttered, his words gruff but laced with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. "But I’ll take it."

“You always sell yourself short,” You tightened your grip around him slightly, "I believe that you deserve the world, honey."

Logan fell silent after that, his heart warm from your words, but the familiar, relentless voice inside of his mind began to push back against them. He didn’t feel like he deserved the world, and he certainly didn’t think he deserved you. All the things he had done, the lives he had taken, the mistakes he could never undo - they weighed on him like a heavy chain.

You were too good for this world.

Logan grumbled under his breath, "Why do I feel like you're buttering me up, bub?" His tone was teasing, but you could hear the underlying doubt. “You said somethin’ similar a week ago.”

You hummed, “That was just because I wanted to choose the movie for movie night.” You bit your lip, shaking your head as your fingers continued to thread through his hair. "But, no, Logan. I love you. And I want you to know how special you are to me. I’ll tell you every day if I have to." He stayed quiet, letting your words sink in, though you could feel the tension in his body slowly beginning to ease. But you could tell that doubt still lingered beneath the surface. After a moment, a playful tone creeped into your voice, "On a side note, I was going to ask you something in the morning."

Logan shifted slightly, lifting his head to look up at you, his eyebrow raised in suspicion. "I knew you wanted somethin’. What is it?” 

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Relax, it’s just a favor, really. But for the record, me taking care of you like this has nothing to do with buttering you up to get a yes. Even if you say no to this favor, I’d do this for you every day, if you let me."

Logan’s lips curled into a small, rare smile as he rested his head back against your chest. "Well, now I gotta hear what this favor is."

You chuckled, leaning down to press another kiss to his head; this time at his hairline. "You’ll just have to wait until morning."

Logan let out a small huff, his voice gruff but tinged with affection. "Fine..." He settled back against you, his head resting comfortably on your chest again.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair once more. "I love you," you muttered, your voice sweet.

For a moment, Logan didn’t say anything, but you could feel his grip around you tighten, pulling you closer.

"Love you too, sweetheart." He finally murmured, the words quiet, almost hesitant. Logan wasn’t one to say it often - he showed you just how much he loved you in little ways everyday - but when he did say it, you knew it was real;raw and honest, like everything he felt for you. 

~~~

Logan woke with a start, his chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, his muscles still sluggish with sleep. For a moment, he stared up at the ceiling, his heart still pounding from whatever had shaken him awake. But soon enough, the familiar warmth beside him pulled his attention. His eyes shifted down, and there you were - curled up against him, head resting on his chest, your breath slow and steady as you slept. One of your legs was draped lazily across his waist, holding him close to you; even your hand was placed over his chest, right over his beating heart. 

Logan blinked slowly, his gaze lingering on you, taking in every detail like it was the first time. The way your hair cascaded, the serene expression on your face, the way your lips were slightly parted, the slope of your nose, the fluttering of your eyelashes brushing along the apples of your cheeks - you were all so ethereal. He couldn’t help but think you looked like a goddess, resting in the morning light, untouched by the ugliness of the world he’d seen for over two centuries.

Again, you were too good for this world. 

And too good for him…

He swallowed hard, that old familiar doubt creeping into his thoughts. What were you doing with him anyway? You were so young, vibrant, and full of life, in your late twenties with a whole world of possibilities ahead of you. He was over two hundred years old, weighed down by scars - both physical and emotional - that would never truly heal. He couldn’t understand why you were with him when you could have anyone your age.

You could’ve been having a normal, regular life right about now. Picket fences, loving a partner your age, in a house in the suburbs, with a stable job and car insurance… Doing taxes…

Logan was a two-hundred-year-old-something with a heart full of scars and hands that had been stained by more than just time. Instead of that peaceful suburban dream, you were here, tangled up with a man who'd seen centuries of pain and loss. 

For a moment, those thoughts lingered, gnawing at him, the quiet whisper of unworthiness in the back of his mind. But then, as if sensing his inner turmoil, you stirred. Your eyelashes fluttered, and your eyes slowly opened, meeting his gaze in that soft, sleepy look that never failed to make his old heart skip a beat under your fingertips.

And then you smiled - warm, genuine, and full of love.

Just like that, all of Logan’s worries slipped away, banished to the farthest corners of his mind; if only temporarily. He made a mental note to try and work on that issue. He didn’t need to understand it, and maybe he never would, but in that moment, with you looking at him like he was your whole world, he knew one thing: he didn’t want to be anywhere else but here, with you.

“Mornin',” He murmured, his voice deep and husky from sleep.

You stretched slightly, your leg still hooked around him as you nestled closer, your cheek nuzzling against his chest. “Morning,” You replied, your smile never faded.

Logan’s hand instinctively moved to brush a few strands of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your soft cheek. “What was that favor you wanted to ask me?"

You blinked a few times, still shaking off the last traces of sleep, but your smile only grew wider. “Ah, so you didn’t forget,” You teased playfully as you nestled closer to him, your fingers tracing random shapes onto his chest.

Logan gave a small grunt, his fingers moving to slip into your hair. "I don’t forget that easily, bub." He smirked slightly, but there was a softness in his eyes as he gazed down at you.

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. If you could, you’d stay like this forever. "Okay, so... Well," You began, not really knowing how to begin, your tone light but nervous; you worried on your bottom lip. Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "My mom called yesterday, and the family dinner is Sunday. Tomorrow..." You looked up at him sheepishly, and Logan’s eyebrows furrowed, but before he could speak, you continued, "She wants me to bring you this time. Well, she has been wanting you to come for the past couple of months, but I knew you wouldn’t want to go… I mean, I told you about my mom and dad…" Logan’s fingers paused in your hair as you spoke, and you felt his body tense slightly beneath you. His expression shifted, his usual calm demeanor replaced by discomfort. You didn’t need him to say anything - you could already see it in his furrowed brows and the way his jaw tightened. He wasn’t fond of the idea of meeting your parents, and you understood why. 

His past, the idea of meeting new people - especially your people - all weighed heavily on him. 

“Family dinner?” He asked, and you quickly started to ramble, your words tumbling out in a rush.

"But you don’t have to go, seriously. I didn’t mean to spring it on you like this, and I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything. My mom can be really persistent, and my dad… Nevermind him, but I promise it’s no big deal going if you’re not comfortable. I don’t want you thinking that you have to do this just because of me, or her, or anyone. You shouldn’t feel like you have to meet them if you don’t want to." You took a breath, your fingers nervously twisting the fabric of his wife-beater. "Honestly, I get it. Family dinners can be awkward, especially when it’s... Well, you know. My parents can be a lot sometimes. And, honestly, we can just skip it, we could stay home and-"

"Hey," He interrupted, "You gotta breathe, darlin’." You blinked, suddenly realizing how fast you were talking. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers still gripping his wife-beater, now warm from the contact. Logan shifted beneath you, his hand sleeping from your hair and down to cup the side of your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and you sighed; your heart calming. "I get it," He spoke, "I know why you’re askin’, and it ain’t like I don’t want to do things for you." He paused, his eyes dropping for a moment before returning to yours. "But this? Meetin’ your parents? It’s... Different. You know me, and you know my history. They don’t. And I’m just not sure what they’ll think."

You nodded thoughtfully, understanding, "They don’t have to know everything," You whispered. "They just need to know that you are the man I love. That’s enough."

Logan let out a small, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Maybe for you, sweetheart, but I’ve got a long list of reasons why parents usually don’t take too kindly to guys like me."

You leaned closer, resting your forehead against his. "Well, you’re not just any guy, Logan. And if they can’t see that, then it’s their loss."

Logan fell quiet again, his eyes searching yours. The conflict was clear on his face - torn between wanting to make you happy and the fear of facing something so unfamiliar, so personal. Finally, he let out a long sigh, his hand slipping back into your hair. "Alrigh’," He muttered, "I’ll go. But if your parents starts askin’ too many questions, I’m out the door," He added, a hint of his usual gruffness returning.

You smiled, relief flooding through you as you leaned in to peck his lips. "Deal."

Logan's lips curved into a smirk, and in a quick, fluid motion, he flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him on the bed. "Ya always know how to get your way, don’t ya?" He drawled, his voice low and rough, a shiver ran down your spine.

You smirked wolfishly right back as your hands trailed up his chest slowly, before wrapping around his neck, “It’s a talent of mine.”

~~~

Pulling up to your parents' house in your car, you parked in front of the house in the driveway. You let out a sigh, turning your head to look at Logan in the passenger seat. Logan's face was set in his usual serious expression, his jaw was clenched slightly, and his hands rested on his thighs; fingers flexing in and out of a fist as if trying to shake off the unease. The tension in his shoulders was noticeable, even as he tried to mask it.

"Ready?" You asked, offering a reassuring smile, though your own nerves were starting to bubble up.

Logan let out a low grunt, turning his head slightly to meet your gaze. “Yeah..."

You reached over, placing a hand on his thigh, "Hey, if it gets too much, like we said, we can leave. No questions asked. I promise."

Logan huffed out a small breath, almost a laugh, and nodded. "Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t scare your folks off." He smirked, but you could see the underlying worry in his eyes.

"You won’t," You said, "You got this, baby." He scoffed, but the corners of his mouth twitched into a reluctant smile.

With one last deep breath, you both got out of the car. As you walked up to the door, Logan stayed close, his hand brushing against your lower back. When you reached the door, you paused, looking up at Logan one more time before knocking. And before Logan could even think about backing out, the door swung open, and your mom’s bright smile greeted you both.

Your mother’s initial smile faltered just for a split second though as her eyes landed on Logan. Her brows knitted together in confusion, seeing the relatively older man standing beside her daughter. She quickly masked her confusion with a polite, albeit slightly strained, smile. "Oh, Y/N, dear," She greeted you, stepping forward to pull you into a tight hug. You could feel the slight tension in her embrace as she glanced over your shoulder at Logan, who stood awkwardly.

When you pulled back, your hand reached out to take his. "Mom, this is Logan, my boyfriend," You said gently, carefully, "Logan, this is my mom."

Logan gave a curt nod, and the poor dear even tried to smile. "Ma’am," He spoke politely, extending a hand.

Your mom hesitated for just a split second before taking his hand, giving it a quick shake. "Logan, right. It’s... Nice to meet you," She said, eyeing him oddly, before she quickly stepped aside to let the two of you in. "Come on in, make yourselves at home."

As you and Logan stepped into the house, the familiar warmth of your childhood home surrounded you, but there was an undeniable stiffness in the air. Before you could say anything, your father appeared in the doorway of the living room, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the sight of Logan, before glaring down at his hand holding yours.

"Hey, dad," You greeted, trying to keep your tone light, though the tension in the room was palpable. "This is Logan. My boyfriend I told you about."

Your father's gaze never left Logan as he gave a brief nod. "Logan," He repeated, his voice low and clipped. "Nice to meet you."

Logan, ever the unflinching figure, met your father’s gaze evenly. He could tell that both of your parents already didn’t like him. Your mother was cautious and your father looked like he was going to hunt him down with that rifle he had mounted on the wall in the entryway. But, either way, Logan wasn’t going to back down, "Likewise," He replied.

You nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "Um, mom, dad, I thought we could all sit down for a bit before dinner," You said quickly, trying to diffuse the growing tension, but you had a feeling things were not going to go well.

Your mom quickly nodded. "Yes, of course! Why don’t we all head to the living room?" She suggested, her tone overly cheerful as she gestured for you and Logan to follow her. “Dinner is still cooking anyway.”

As you walked toward the living room, you glanced at Logan, offering him a small, apologetic smile. He caught your eye and gave you the briefest of nods, his way of silently telling you that he was fine - at least, for now.

You were already beginning to regret even showing up.

Silence filled the room as everyone settled into their respective spots on the couches. You and Logan sat on one, while your parents took the other. Logan’s posture was rigid, every muscle seeming to bristle with discomfort as you shifted slightly on the couch, you cleared your throat. “So, how have you both been?” You asked, turning to your mother and father with a nervous smile. “Dad, are you still fishing at that lake on the weekends?”

Your father’s stern expression eased a bit, though he didn’t lose his guarded demeanor. “Yeah, I still get out when I can,” He replied curtly.

Your mother, seizing the opportunity to engage in conversation, leaned forward slightly. “So… Uh, how did you and Logan… Meet?” She asked, her tone curious but cautious.

You took a deep breath, “Well, I was out with friends when one of them thought it would be fun to rent a limo for the night. So, we rented the limo, and Logan was the limo driver.” As you told the story, you couldn't help but smile as the memories flashed in your mind, looking up at Logan. "We just sort of... Clicked. Been together ever since." 

Your mother’s eyes lit up with more questions. “That’s interesting. And how long have you been together?”

You answered, and your mother’s questions then turned to Logan, he responded with short answers, all the while, your father’s gaze remained fixed on Logan, his expression one of quiet scrutiny.

After a few more questions from your mother about your relationship and how you two made it work, Logan cleared his throat, a sign of his growing unease. “Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh, Lo, it’s just down the hall, right door.” You directed, and Logan gave you a nod in thanks, his tense gaze shifting slightly.

Once he was out of sight, your mother turned her attention back to you, her tone becoming more serious. “So, about the age difference… He’s too- too old for you, dear.” She stated, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I mean, he looks old enough to be your father.”

You sighed, trying to keep your tone steady. “Mom, the age gap really doesn’t matter. We’re both consenting adults, and what’s important is that we care about each other, and love each other-”

Before you could say more, your mother cut you off. “But he’s so much older than you! I mean, it’s not just the age, it’s his whole demeanor. He didn’t give me a hug at the door, or even bring me flowers. You know your ex, Jeremiah, did all that when he picked you up for that school dance.”

You interjected, trying to stay calm. “That was years ago, mom. High school. And like I have told you over the phone, social situations make him uncomfortable. He is introverted like I am. And on top of that, the moment you opened the door, the both of you were so cold to him. So… Uh, uninviting.”

“Cold and uninviting?” Your mother asked, scoffing with a laugh as if your words were ridiculous. “We just want what’s right for you.” She then continued, giving various reasons for why she felt the gap was unacceptable, before listing off concerns that seemed to stem from her own apprehensions rather than genuine issues. You found yourself growing increasingly frustrated but tried to keep yourself calm.

“Well, mom,” You said, with a touch of exasperation in your voice, “Not only am I an adult that can make my own decisions, but I am disappointed that you won’t even give Logan a chance. And don’t think I am just singling mom out here, dad, you don’t have to glare at him the entire time.”

Your father pursed his lips, glancing away, “I don’t like him.”

You huffed, your hands placed on your thighs, fists clenched tight, “It’s been no more than twenty minutes, thirty tops, dad.”

Your mother’s expression hardened as she continued to press the issue. “I just don’t think this is a good idea. You deserve someone who’s at your stage in life, not someone who’s… Well, so much older. It’s not just about age; Logan might be set in his ways, and what if this is just a phase for you? You’re still figuring things out, and he’s had a lifetime of experiences.”

‘A phase!?’ You exclaimed mentally, feeling rage bubbling up inside you as you tried to take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. “Let me just set this straight that this is not a phase. I get that you’re worried, but I’m not a kid anymore. Like I just said, I am old enough to make my own decisions. I love Logan. He’s kind, patient, and cares about me like no one else. He respects me, listens to me, and makes me feel so incredibly safe.” You ran a frustrated hand through your hair, “And yeah, he’s older, but that doesn’t change anything. He makes me happy, and that’s what matters. I thought that was what you wanted for me; someone who makes me happy.” Your mother opened her mouth, but you continued, not even giving her a chance to interrupt you with more nonsense. “Oh, and he’s super hot, which is a total plus.” You stood up, looking between your parents. “I’m not asking for your approval, just for you to accept that Logan’s a part of my life. And will always be. End of story.”

You quickly said your goodbyes, not giving your parents a chance to argue. Walking back to the hallway, you spotted Logan leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared down at the floor. Looking up at you, he felt his body ease. Without a word, you held out your hand with a reassuring smile. He pushed off the wall, taking your hand into his as you both left your parents’ house together.

Once you were seated back in the car, you looked over at your Wolverine of a boyfriend, catching the familiar curve of his grin. "So... You think I’m super hot, huh?"

Your own grin widened, eyes twinkling with mischief. "So hot, Lo," You teased, though the sincerity behind your words was undeniable. However, you became more serious, tilting your head, "I really do love you. I don’t care about the age gap. Or anything else they brought up. It doesn’t change how I feel. What matters is how you make me feel - how you make me feel valued, understood, and loved. Their opinions don’t change what I know in my heart… You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and more.”

Logan’s eyes softened at your words, his smirk returning, a little cockier this time. "Guess I’m just lucky to have someone as stubborn as you."

Before you could reply, Logan leaned across the center console, his scarred hand gently cupping your cheek. The roughness of his calloused fingers brushed through your hair, sending a rush of butterflies through your stomach. Your breath mingled with his, the proximity making your heart race. Your eyelids drooped slightly, lost in the heat of the moment as you reached up, your fingers brushing through the rough strands of his graying beard. 

Logan’s eyes flickered down to your lips as he ran his tongue along his own, wetting them before he finally closed the gap. His mouth was warm, the kiss slow and sensual, as if he was savoring every second. And, my god, were you. You pressed closer, your hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed against each other’s. As your breathing slowly steadied, you smiled, tilting your head slightly and muttered, “So... What should we watch when we get home? I’m thinking of something fun. ‘John Wick’? Maybe even ‘The Fifth Element?”

“‘John Wick’ sounds good,” He murmured, sitting back upright in his seat, but continuing to look over at you; his lips still tingled from the kiss. “But let’s get something to eat first. I’m starving.”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Sounds perfect.” You leaned back in, pressing a quick peck to his lips, “I am so down for some fast food. We can pick up something for Charles too. You know how much he loves those McFlurries.”

Logan gave you a satisfied grin as you started the car and pulled out of the driveway. 

~~~