Kid and Gramps

Logan Howlett was in a foul mood. To most, this might have seemed like a normal state for the gruff mutant to be in, but they would have been wrong. For one, he hadn't had a cigar since the night before, and it was currently hotter than Hades. The weatherman had boasted a solid 102 degrees outside, and even the A-grade coolers of the school were falling short. The beer that the angry man had purchased two days ago was pathetic and had no kick whatsoever, all of his pairs of jeans were dirty so he was stuck in sweat pants (which he hated)- and he had been tasked to keeping a young punk out of trouble.

Out of all of the things that were currently pissing Logan off, being a glorified babysitter was definitely the worst offender. Especially when the kid he was meant to keep an eye on, was by all accounts, a snarky little smart ass. But the Professor had specifically asked him to train the brat- seeing as she had showed potential with her powers and the X-men needed new recruits. Charles wanted him to test the kid's metal, to see if she was team material. So here Logan was, in the school gym, waiting for the princess to grace him with her presence.

Wolverine growled as he glanced at the clock on the wall again. She was almost 15 minutes late. The kid (Dora, or so he had been told) had another minute to show before he locked up and said to hell with it.

Logan sauntered over to where he had left his bottle of shoddy beer, and leisurely knocked back a generous swig. . . And it was as he chugged the foul liquor, that his keen hearing picked up on the faint click of the door being opened and then closed, and the hushed rustling of fabric as it brushed against human skin and the heels of flat soled shoes. But despite his observations, Logan didn't rush or give any sign that he had heard anything. Instead the man savored his drink and kept his back to his late trainee. Let the brat sweat it out for a while; two could play the spiteful game.

Then, finally, when he was ready, the large man replaced the glass bottle on the ground and said, "You get lost, kid?"

"Nah."

Logan felt his ugly temper begin to rear its nasty head, but merely snorted. "Well, you get a free pass today- seeing as the Professor wants you in one piece. But don't waste my time again. I've got better stuff to do than wait for you."

For a pointed second the young woman behind him was silent, before her voice rose in challenge. "And what if I am late again? What are you going to do about it? Smother me with your legendary grumpy powers?"

Logan turned around then, his face stony as he sized up the brat. She was much shorter than him, with flashy makeup caked over her youthful face, and a tank top that left very little to the imagination. She looked to be around seventeen years old, though could have easily passed for eighteen or nineteen.

"No," the man said in answer to her attitude-laced question. "I'll just come fetch yer ass and drag you back here."

The girl lifted a penciled eyebrow at the threat. "I'd like to see you try, Grandpa."

The lumberjack of a man rolled his eyes heavenward. Trust the Professor to give him a hot-shot to deal with. It was probably because Storm and Scott wouldn't touch the foul little teen with a six foot pole.

With an annoyed grimace, Logan walked over to one of the lockers lining the far wall and opened one up. As he reached inside to grab the content housed there he answered her.

"Be late again, and you will."

Then, as she frowned at him, Logan threw the item he had in his hand to her. She caught it on reflex, and then turned hazel eyes to regard the object.

"I didn't know you would give me free clothes, Teach. It must be my lucky day."

At the dripping sarcasm, Logan gave her a thin line of a smile. "It's not free. I just don't feel like having your boobs hanging in my face all day."

The teen gave him an amused look. "What? Are you a prude? My boobs make you uncomfortable?"

Logan drew closer so that he was only standing two feet away. "Nope. I just don't want to look at a little girl's chest. Put it on."

For a moment it looked like she wouldn't do it, but then she smirked and slipped the giant sweat shirt over her hair. Once she had done so she lifted an eyebrow.

"There. You happy now, Gramps?"

Logan ignored her as he came to stand even closer to the young woman. "Did the Professor tell you why you're here?"

"Yeah," she scoffed. "To cripple you, Teach."

The man shook his head with a soft noise of humor as he judged his next course of action. Then, before the brat could even think about dodging, Logan threw his first punch. It connected firmly with her stomach, and the girl choked as she was winded. Then as she stumbled back from the man, she gave him a wide eyed glance as she spat out a mouthful of blood. The surprise was clear for him to see.

"Rule number one, kid. Don't talk off more than you can handle."

"Y-You hit me? . . . You hit a girl!"

"Yes, I did," Logan said. "And I will continue to hit you until you can defend yourself. You either learn how to fight me, or you get bumped back to kiddie classes upstairs permanently. The Professor thinks you have the skill to be a part of the team; I'm here to test that."

The young woman stared at him for a long breath before she spat out more blood and purposefully wiped her mouth off with the sleeve of her borrowed shirt.

"I'm gonna kick your ass, Gramps."

Logan lifted a skeptical eyebrow, as she clenched her fist and threw a punch of her own, which he caught easily in his palm. "I'll believe it when I see it. . . Now show me what you've got."

Dora huffed heavily as she slumped down onto one of the few benches that lined the gym's walls. The teenager plonked down with very little ceremony, and almost immediately winced as pain shot through her limbs. She was incredibly sore from the sparring match that she and Gramps had just finished several minutes ago, but the young woman held her protesting body in check. And sternly silenced the cry that threatened to escape her slightly swollen bottom lip. She had earned these bruises; worked hard for this pain, and she wasn't about to let it dictate how she felt.

It had been a month since Dora had started training with Logan, and the girl had yet to beat him. (Not that she hadn't been trying her darnedest to make it happen.)

Now every day, during the hours between lunchtime and dinner, Dora spent her time fighting. And though it had only been a short while, she had already made wide strides of progress. She could actually hit Logan back now, and from time to time, the young woman would even be able to surprise him.

Since their first encounter, the young female mutant had been able to garner some important info about her rather grumpy teacher. But there were two things above all else, that had stuck with her. First off, Wolverine didn't fight fair; and second, he was a blunt, rough-around the edges jerk when it came to dealing with people. . .

. . . To most this second fact would have been off-putting, but somehow to the teen these two qualities had helped her begin to actually respect her teacher. This was due to the fact that it was a welcomed change for her.

Most of the people in Dora's life either avoided her or tended to walk on eggshells. And yes, it was true that her personality was a bit on the brazen side of the board, but she couldn't help it. . . The girl had always had to fend for herself, and with that responsibility came a snappy and cynical attitude. Dora had been a complete loner at the school for gifted youngsters before the Professor had asked her to train with Logan. But now, she had someone to rely upon. Sure, it was for bruises and rude and questionable remarks, but she enjoyed it all the same. Wolverine might have been a jackass, but he was Dora's jackass. He had no ulterior motive, and never held back. And the young woman was grateful for it.

"Hey kid."

Dora let her gaze shift to regard the gruff mutant that she had just been thinking about. Logan was standing beside her, where she sat on the bench, with his large hand outstretched. In his extended hand was a fresh energy drink that he offered to her freely.

The young woman silently nodded to him as she accepted the Powerade and uncapped the lid. Logan joined her as he took a pull from his own bottle, mirroring her action without meaning to. And surprisingly enough, he had gotten an energy drink as well, instead of his usual beer or Jack Daniels.

For some time the two were silent, chugging their drinks, before Dora scrunched up her nose.

Logan lifted an eyebrow as he looked at her curiously. "What?"

"I smell friggin' nasty. My BO is outta control."

Wolverine snorted as he tipped back his bottle again. "Well you're not alone."

Dora nodded in agreement as she slowly stood from the bench, and popped and stretched each of her arms experimentally. "Yeah, you smell bad too. It's all those cigars. My Aunt used to smoke those things too and she's six feet under. I'm telling ya, Gramps, that shite'll kill ya."

"Not if your nagging gets to me first," Logan retorted, making the young woman laugh as she moved past him to stand in the center of the gym floor once again.

"You'll die of old age and grumpiness long before my words make a dent, Logan. Now come on; it's time for round two!"

Though neither of the mutants noticed the slip-up, this was in fact, the first time Dora had ever called Wolverine by his actual name.

Logan begrudgingly put his Powerade down, and cracked his neck and shoulders as he joined his pupil in the ring. "I thought we were done today?"

"We are. I just wanted to try something."

The man looked at the girl warily. "What?"

Dora gave him a smirk as she flexed her hands in his direction, curling her fingers into a claw-shape.

"This."

And as the word passed from her lips, a hundred black tendrils shot towards Logan from all sides and enveloped him in a cocoon that kept all but his head and neck in check. Wolverine grunted as he extended his Adamantium Claws and tried to slice the darkness away. But the movement was restricted and the dark fragments instantly repaired themselves as he fought to break free.

Dora watched her teacher for a moment before she said rather smugly. "I win, bro-ham."

"I thought we agreed that you wouldn't use your powers," Logan questioned, annoyed as the shadows squirmed around his body, and then obediently began to dissipate back to the corners of the gym from whence they came.

"We did," the young woman stated as she smiled at the older mutant. "But I wanted to see if I could get you with my mojo."

Wolverine shook his head with a smile of his own, though granted it was a very small one. "The victory doesn't count unless it's done without your shadow show, Dora."

"I know, I know. And I won't do it again. . . But I know that I will beat you the old fashioned way one day. I can promise you that, pops."

"Which is exactly why the Professor wants to talk to you tomorrow morning."

This took the young woman by surprise, and her face puckered in confusion as she grabbed her and Logan's drinks, and handed him his.

"Hold the phone. . . Say what now?"

"I told the Professor that you're ready. And he's gonna talk to you about more training with himself and Storm from now on."

Dora's eyes had grown comically wide at this point, as what Logan was saying sunk in. Then she sputtered out, "No more kiddie classes?"

"Nope; you're home free, kid."

"B-But Gramps, I haven't beaten you yet . . ."

"All the more reason for you to not screw it up with the Professor." Though his words came out as self-serving, the young woman could see the encouragement behind them. He wanted her to succeed. . . He knew how much she wanted this and he was helping her achieve her goal! She was going to become a member of the X-Men!

Dora positively beamed as she reached over and punched Wolverine's bicep. "Thanks, Logan."

The giant of a man returned the punch, which would most definitely leave a mark on her arm, as the two exited the gym side by side. "Don't mention it, kid. I wouldn't have told them you were ready if you weren't."

"Well, I won't make you a liar, Gramps."

"Good."

. . . .

. . . .

. . . .

"So. . . . You wanna go get some pizza, Grandpa? I'm buying."

"Alright, bub. But I'm driving."

Dora shrugged indifferently as they walked through the deserted halls of the school and towards the private garage. "Fine by me, as long as you don't drive like the other peeps in your age group."

Logan raised an eyebrow as he extended his middle claw in a rude gesture. The young woman immediately mimicked the action with her own middle finger.

It was really nice to have someone to rely upon, even if they flipped you off with metal/bone knives of death.

"Come on, Gramps."

"Yeah, yeah, kid. Where's the fire?"

Dora ignored him as they both piled into one of Scott's cars (which they had not gotten permission to take) and sped away. And it was as they pulled in front of a pizza joint and got out of the car, that Dora realized that they still smelled 'friggin nasty'.

A/N: Originally this was a commission I posted over on Deviantart as a Reader Insert. But I figured I might as well post it over here too! :D Dora was the name that my friend Rhoder picked out for her. I think it fit nicely! Lol

This is my first time really writing Logan as a main spotlight role in a story, and I was extremely nervous. I didn't want to screw up our favorite grump. But I think it turned out alright. XD

~Lyn