Authors Note: I want to apologize to anyone who expected me to update Trickles sometime soon - I want to try to get some reserve text built up so I don't write myself into a hole or put things in the wrong order. I already started doing that a little, so I have to be extra careful now. I'm in the market for some solid betaing, if you know any.
While we're waiting on that, here is a Logan POV fluffy as fuck mini fic. Sat down, wrote it, and now I want to post it right away after only two or three read throughs. Forgive any errors or inconsistencies please, and point them out to me if you find them! Without further ado, I present "Can't say I'm sorry" - a short shipper fic without angst or dialogue.
A lot of people would look down their noses at us. I say, 'Fuck 'em.' They don't know shit. We worked hard for this scrap of freedom and happiness, and we earned every bit of it. If they want to take whatever foul thing is in their mind and apply it to us, well, like I said. Fuck 'em.
When I met her she was as cold and hungry as I'd ever seen anyone besides myself. Skin and bones, but not just hungry for food. Hungry for kindness. Hungry for someone to look at her and not see what they could take from her. I wish I could say that when I first looked there wasn't a little bit of me measuring what I could take, but that would be a lie and I don't like lyin'. But when push came to shove, I'm proud to say it was about me givin' to her. I ain't done much right in my life that I remember, but that's one and it's the most important one.
Some Time Back:
I sensed her as soon as she walked through the door. There was a breeze that pulled her sweet smell straight to the cage I was fighting in, aided by the rancid heat of the bar meeting the crisp cold air of the parking lot, and the door swinging shut behind her. It cost me a couple of pot shots from the other guy and I got irritated enough to end the fight right then, instead of drawing it out like I usually did. Oops. Oh well. I tried to brush it off as I sauntered over to my corner and the shot of whiskey waiting for me. Yeah, I was hoping she'd notice me even as I cursed her distraction. I told myself I was just playing the crowd though - sometimes they go wild for that shit, and the betting pool gets bigger, so the winnings get bigger. It worked this time too, when some cocksure yokel bellowed his challenge. I actually forgot about her until I'd already collected my winnings and pulled up to the bar for a drink. I'd been coming down from the high of fighting and proving my skill, but as I approached her suddenly all I felt was pensive. Like I hadn't just spent the better part of two hours working out all the pensiveness I'd been building up the past week. I was a little more gruff than usual when I ordered a beer. I could smell her better now. Young. Dirty. Hungry. Mine. Aw fuck. It was all kinds of wrong, and it pissed me off even more. Those little sideways glances she kept shooting weren't helping none either. I could smell her mood changing. Sad when I first sat down. Curious when I spoke. Aroused when I caught her with a patented Wolverine Glare. I was disgusted. That glare can send strong men running in the other direction, but this tiny girl child had the balls to get off on it? I was almost glad when that dumb fuck tried blackmailing me. I'm not a man to fuck with, and I'm not good for little girls to go around getting ideas about. I tried to communicate that with another Wolverine Glare, but I think she was looking for a thanks for 'warning' me. Heh, I need a warning like I need some jailbait making goo-goo eyes at me. Stupid kid.
I thought I'd stepped into crazy town when I found the kid half frozen in my trailer a few hours later. What the hell did she think she was doing? She's got some brass ones, all right. Somehow she got me to pick her up, feed her, and waste gas on running the heater for her. It takes forever to heat up a camper. Her next act was to charm my real name out of me. The little vixen was teasing me! No one teases the Wolverine. No one turns the Wolverine into a barely controllable urge to do things to a minor that have no right being thought, much less done, either. The inside of my head was a constant porn flick featuring Marie and guest starring me in every known and a few unknown positions. That would have been fine, except for the frequent intermissions of Marie clothed in my arms, Marie making my home, Marie pregnant with my kid and holding another on her hips. I was a man drowning. She was NOT helping. As she thawed out and got more comfortable, the truck stopped smelling like my truck, and started smelling like her. Her happiness, her desire. She kept up an easy conversation, and I liked talking to her. Me. I liked talking. When I pulled up to the next town it was dark, and suddenly she got that sad upset smell again. I couldn't let her go yet. I had to think of something, anything to keep her next to me as long as I could. I was addicted. The offer of a meal and another ride the next day took care of that. I even got her her own room. See? I'm not THAT much of a bastard.
The next day we spent getting to know each other a little better. She was 17. Not as bad as I first thought, but still no where near old enough. I comforted myself a little with the thought that in terms of living years, she had more under her belt than I did. And there was this look in her eyes sometimes, this real wise look that made me think maybe we weren't so different after all. Her birthday was in May. I found that ironically hilarious, thinking about a May-December romance, and I don't think she believed me when I tried to brush it off by saying I watched a funny movie in May once. Hell, that was probably the dumbest thing I remember saying so far. But she didn't push me. That odd twinkle was in her eye again, and I swear she did this on purpose - she mentioned how she was glad it was December, and that it was her favorite month. I had to excuse myself to answer a 'call of nature' pretty soon after that. Yeah. Call of nature and my pants. I was a terrible person and a lecher and a perv. I thought, If I can get out of this with my honor intact, somehow, I'll donate the next three purses I win to a runaway youth charity.
Not once did it occur to me that this was strange behavior, compared to my past choices. I was the kinda guy who beat people up for a living, fucked a new bar fly every night, chewed cigars, and brushed his teeth with whiskey. I was NOT the guy who bent himself over backward trying to take care of some kid he found, trying to keep her safe and protected even from himself. But while I was doing it it felt like the rightest thing in the world. And I'm not sorry I did it either.
When she told me some about her past, I had a hard time focusing on driving and her words. The claws almost came out a few times. Once, they broke the skin, but she was staring out her window so I don't think she saw. It was so hard, because I was so angry I was seeing red. But I think it helped her to talk about it some, and I was happy to help her even if it was hard for me, 'cause it was nothing compared to how hard it musta been for her to live through it. You don't get to live on the road for 8 months and keep your innocence too. She was pretty broken up when she was done, so I told her some of the things I knew about my past, including just how much was missing. Tit for tat. I thought for sure that when we pulled up to the next town she'd be making her excuses, but all she did was ask where we were gonna eat. When I had a nightmare that night she slipped through the door between our rooms that I left propped open and slid into bed behind me. Scared the everloving shit out of me at first, 'cause I came out with claws and fists swinging like I always do when I think about my past too much. I didn't get her though. Girl's quick. After that we didn't bother getting two rooms any more.
The happiest bad news I ever had to bear was telling her she wouldn't be able to get to Alaska this way till spring thaw. We were too far North. There was, however, barely enough time to get to my cabin before it got blocked off too. The quickness of her agreement left me thinking if maybe she had changed her mind a little about Alaska.
The first time she kissed me was right before I went out to win some money in a fight. She didn't want me to go, but we were out of cash. I needed to get a few things for us to ride out the winter at the very least, and I also wanted to get a couple of extra things for her. She never said nothing, but all she had in the world she carried around in a duffle bag. I wanted to fix that for her, and Christmas was coming so I had a pretty good excuse. That meant I had to fight. And leaving to fight meant she kissed me, so I can't say I'm sorry about that either.
She liked the cabin. I liked that she liked the cabin. It isn't much, I won't kid myself, but it was mine and it was on a parcel of land big enough to get lost in for weeks. I spent a lot of time making repairs and trying to ignore how everything smelled like Marie now. When she was fertile that first time - it was a couple months later 'cause she'd been so skinny before I took her in - I had to make up a hunting trip just so I wouldn't lose it and touch her like she kept trying to get me to do. I don't got much more than my morals, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let go of those without a fight. The next month was ice fishing. The month after that I couldn't even think of an excuse before I had to blurt out something about gottagobebackinafewdays. She mighta been catching on by then, since she knew how my senses worked, and I took off on a pretty regular time table.
When her birthday came she set her trap and let me walk myself right into it. I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't know exactly what I was doing, and like I told you before - I don't like lyin'. But I figured I'd tortured the both of us enough by then, plus I hadn't been able to hold back any of her gifts during Christmas so there was nothing else to give her. Nothin' but me. And you know what? For some reason she took it. I can't say I'm sorry about that, either.