Logan has the weirdest friends
Spider-Man, the X-Men, and all associated characters are property of Marvel.
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"He shouldn't be here, Logan." Scott Summers said, face scrunched up behind his ruby quartz glasses.
Logan rolled his eyes, staring down at Spider-Man's prone form from the observation room. Hank McCoy and Cecilia Reyes—who had been over for a quick visit, only to be pulled in by Hank to for help—cutting through his bloody, scorched costume. "What was I supposed to do, leave him bleeding out in that blown up building?"
"Of course not!" Scott spat. He gestured angrily at Spider-Man. "But you shouldn't have brought him here!"
"He's been to the mansion before," Logan replied.
"Never belowground!" Scott bellowed. "Where we keep all our vital equipment and information!"
"Scott has a point, Logan." Logan didn't need to turn around to see the thoughtful, if stern, frown on Charles Xavier's face. "I seem to recall there being a warrant out for Spider-Man's arrest."
"Please." Logan waved them off. "Every day the United States government wavers between deciding whether Mutants should be put into camps or shot on sight—harboring one little fugitive won't change anything."
"It's an unnecessary risk!" Scott shouted, grabbing Logan by the shoulder and forcing him around. "You know all the rumors surrounding him."
"Awful prejudice of you, eh, Summers?" Logan said with a smirk.
He could see a bit of crimson fire brimming behind Scott's glasses. "He's dangerous, and you know it."
Logan turned back to Spider-Man. Dangerous? Certainly. Kid hit like a truck—could do a lot damage if he didn't keep such tight control of himself. If he didn't hold himself to an impossibly high standard. That was the crux of it, really—Spider-Man had muscle, but he also had a heart.
Why else would he follow Logan through three miles of sewage on the barest rumor of some creeps kidnapping mutant kids?
Charles wheeled up beside him. "Logan, what's the matter?"
"How're the kids, Chuck?"
Even Scott's anger wilted at the reminder of the dozen-or-so kids Kurt Wagner and Katherine 'Kitty' Pryde were currently entertaining. "They're well enough—no injuries, thank god. Ororo and Jean are leading the efforts into contacting their parents." Charles's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Though a few have expressed terror at the idea of returning to them." Well, if that wasn't a kick in the balls.
Charles light chuckle lifted the mood, though. "But they all have expressed a desire to thank Spider-Man in person. They were drawing pictures, last I heard—even the older ones."
Logan sniffed in Scott's direction. "See, kids draw pictures of the man. How can that he be bad?"
Scott's anger returned full-force. "That's not the point, Logan!"
Logan leaned down towards Charles. "He's just jealous no one's ever wanted to give him fanart." Charles tried, but Logan could see how hard he was fighting the urge to smirk.
Even Scott, despite his concerns, blushed at the accusation. "T-That's not it, dammit!" He pointed down the window at Spider-Man. "We know nothing about him."
"Never stopped us from teaming up before."
"Doesn't mean we trust him enough to bring him into the heart of our home!"
"That is a valid concern, Logan, you must admit," Charles said. "Spider-Man is an upstanding individual, and these are extenuating circumstances, but we know nothing about him. No one does—for all he's done, for all the time he has spent saving lives, he is an enigma. Enigmas do not breed trust."
Logan grunted. "I trust him."
Scott scoffed. "You do?"
"Course." Logan scratched his chin. "More than you." Scott rolled his eyes. "And even you, Chuck." That stopped them both cold.
Charles leaned forward. "Truly, Logan?" His tone wasn't accusatory—or even sad—merely curious. It was hard to explain, and even Logan was confused at the amount of faith he had in the blabbermouth, too-kind-for-his-own-good manchild. But even when they first met, Logan saw something in Spider-Man. A strength hidden behind his immature demeanor. The kind of strength most people didn't have. The kind of strength Logan sometimes wished he had.
In the end, Logan just shrugged. "Yeah, I do." Charles stares long and hard at Logan—if he didn't know the man any better, he'd think he was trying to read his mind.
"Well…That's good enough for me, I suppose." Charles turned back to the window. Scott let out a disgruntled sigh, but didn't put up another fight.
Logan chuckled, leaning against the window. Hank and Cecilia had cut off everything but Spider-Man's mask—covering the man's waist with a towel, thankfully—and had brought the scissors up to his mask.
Now, Logan didn't have whatever weird precognition thing Spider-Man possessed, but he did have eyes. And, seconds before the scissors touched the mask, he saw Spider-Man's entire body tense.
Logan broke through the window without a second thought. "Get away!" he shouted. Hank scrambled back, eyes widening as Spider-Man's fist just barely missed turning his nose to mush.
Spider-Man flipped backwards with a wordless shout, tearing the table he was on off the floor and holding it high. Logan tackled him onto the floor, the table falling with a metallic thunk.
"Relax, relax!" Logan said, even as Spider-Man fought him off in instinctive panic. Not for the first time, Logan was thankful for his adamantium skeleton—Spider-Man packed a wallop. "You're at the X-Mansion, in one of our operating rooms."
Spider-Man froze, but his breaths were still rough, heart beating a mile a minute. He smacked his lips beneath his mask. "Wha—Logan?"
Logan nodded, lifting off Spider-Man. "Yeah, it's me, bub. Brought you here after you got caught up in that blast."
"Blast? What—!" Spider-Man gasped, reaching up and grabbing onto Logan's shoulders. "The kids! Logan, are the kids—"
"They're fine!" Logan cut him off. "They're safe in the mansion, all of them."
Spider-Man sagged in relief. "Thank god." He looked down at himself. "…Another question. Why am I naked?"
"You can thank Hank and Cecilia for that."
Spider-Man turned to face Hank. "Look, you may be a Beast, but I sure as hell ain't your Beauty." He shot a finger gun at Cecilia. "Same goes for you—but swap around the identifiers. Unless of course you consider yourself a Beast, in which case I would be more than happy to continue identifying as Beauty."
Cecilia rolled her eyes, and turned to Hank. "Please tell me you people have more than one operating room."
"We have several, my dear," Hank said in faux-offense.
"Sounds nice," Spider-Man said. "Let me know how they are. Logan, I hate to ask—your fashion sense is absolutely abysmal—but I need to borrow some pants. And a shirt without a beet stain if you can spare one."
Before Logan could growl out a response, Cecilia said, "Um, no." She strode up to Spider-Man and grabbed his right arm. "You are going to sit down until Dr. McCoy comes back to tell us what room we can move you to."
"Um, no," Spider-Man gently pried the woman off. "I'm fine—other than being naked from the neck down. Again, Logan, hate to ask, but I really don't feel like swinging in my birthday suit all the way back to Manhattan—I don't need to add public indecency to the running list of offenses the NYPD's got on me." His next words were a disgruntled mutter. "No way in hell am I letting Johnny finish his Bingo card before I do."
"Like hell," Cecilia shot back. She relatched onto Spider-Man's arm, and marched him onto a chair. "You are covered in bruises, burns, and scratches—even more than before, thank you, Logan." Logan scoffed—what else was he supposed to do?
Cecilia picked up a towel and dropped it over Spider-Man's crotch. "You are going to sit there until Dr. McCoy and I get another room prepped for you."
Spider-Man threw his hands up with a groan. "Fine, whatever. I'll stay and get—wait, am I gonna get billed?" Cecilia blinked, turning to look up at Charles. "And that's all the answer I need." Spider-Man shot up, clutching the towel at his waist. "Thank you all, let's not do this again." He shot his hand in the air. "…And I don't have my web shooters, because why not?"
"Don't worry, Spider-Man," Charles said from above them. "No one is charged for using the medical facilities in the mansion." He chuckled. "Otherwise, believe me, most of my students would be drowning in debt."
"There, see!" Cecilia said in mock-cheer. "No debt, no more excuses. Now take off that mask and follow me and Dr. McCoy to the next operating room."
Spider-Man guffawed. "Uh, no. Did you not see that?" He gestured to the broken table. "And that was while I was teetering on the edge of conciousness!"
"And I'm not tackling him again," Logan called out.
Cecilia pinched the bridge of her nose. "We need to give you a full examination—a concussion could be the least possible problem."
Spider-Man sniffed. "Oh, I don't have a concussion, trust me. Maybe tinnitus, but that's been around since the first time I fought Shocker."
"I'm sorry my good man," Hank said, stepping up beside Cecilia to frown at the mostly naked superhero. "But one's word isn't good enough for medical situations." To Cecilia, he said, "Room eight is ready, my dear.
Spider-Man slumped in his seat. "Fine! How about a compromise!" He pressed his fingers against the eyes of his mask. They popped out after a few seconds, revealing tired, hazel eyes. "Ta-da! How do I look—be honest, does the red bring out my eyes?" She grabbed him by the chin, shining a light in his eyes. "Hey, warn a guy, would ya!"
"No visible signs of a concussion," Cecilia said, chagrined. "Fine, keep the mask on and follow me." She lifted him up by his arm. "Need to get you on a table."
"You know I've got an ex that used to say that a lot."
"Please don't make me gag you,"
"She used to say that too!" Spider-Man replied as she led him out the room.
Logan chuckled and looked up at Charles and Scott. The former wore a thoughtful frown, the latter a baleful scowl. "Ah, don't get your panties in a twist, Summers," Logan said. "I'll keep an eye on him until he gets the all clear to leave."
Scott rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. "Whatever, I'm done with this."
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Logan gave Hank and Cecilia an hour before he went to collect Spider-Man. Any longer and even Hank would probably want to tear the kid's throat out.
But as he neared the door, he couldn't help but notice how weak Spider-Man's scent—an unholy mix of righteousness and self-loathing—was.
The second after he knocked on the door, Hank—face creased into a deep frown—opened it up. "He's gone!"
Logan sighed. "Course he his." He looked into the room. Cecilia was leaning against the operating table, muttering a long string of curses in Spanish. He shook his head. "How'd you lose him?"
Hank gestured helplessly to an open vent. "I looked away for barely five seconds."
Logan rolled his eyes. "Give me a minute." The X-Mansion's vents were a maze, but now that he knew Spider-Man was in them, he could follow the sterile scent of medicine in the walls.
The scent grew stronger outside Hank's lab. Logan peeked in, frowning at its ransacked state. Well, he certainly wouldn't be the one to break the news to Hank. Besides, Spider-Man wasn't even there anymore.
He followed the vents further, and now found himself outside Forge's workshop. He opened the door, and found the titular man staring down at a mess of wires. He turned around when Logan cleared his throat.
"Oh, Logan!" He frowned and pointed at an open vent. "You missed all the excitement."
"Spider-Man?"
"Yes."
Logan grunted. "He say anything?"
Forge scratched his chin. "Just that he was going to borrow my soldering iron, and also borrow, but not return, some loose wires." He blinked. "Well, that's just stealing, isn't it?"
"Probably," Logan replied, exiting the room and closing the door behind him.
He followed the noise and smells outside of the X-Men's private areas and into the school itself. Unfortunately, along the way he ran into Scott. "Logan," he said, "is Spider-Man ready to go yet?" And he just plunged right in with no preamble—how Jean could be happy with the man, Logan would never know.
"We lost him," Logan admitted. No sense in trying to sugarcoat the situation.
Scott goggled. "What do you mean you lost him?!"
Logan gestured to the ceiling. "He's in the vents."
Scott heaved a great breath. "Well don't just stand there! We've gotta put everyone on alert, initiate lockdown procedures!"
"First of all," Logan said, holding up his hands. "That's not going to work. He's broken into and out of countless highly secure facilities. And ganging up on him ain't gonna do squat. Remember Battle World?" Scott blushed at the reminder at their team's crushing defeat at the hands of Spider-Man—thank god Charles wiped Spider-Man's memory of the event, he'd never let them live it down.
…Though considering how much of a tizzy he has Scott in just by existing, he might spill the beans himself. If only for the laugh. Ah, but Charles didn't need people more wary of him and his psychic powers than they already were. Decisions, decisions.
In any case, he said, "I've been following his scent—don't worry, he's out of the labs and in the mansion itself."
"That's where we all live, Logan," Scott bluntly replied. "It doesn't make the situation any better."
Logan rolled his eyes, and returned to sniffing the air. But something else filtered into his senses—the high-pitched sound of children laughing. Logan smirked, and gestured for Scott to follow.
A short walk led them to one of the Mansions recreation rooms Where Kitty and Rogue were peeking in through the door, the former holding her phone out. Scott took a deep breath, but Logan quieted him with a look—Scott glared, but didn't make a sound. Logan snuck up behind the girls, and cocked a brow at the scene before them.
Spider-Man and Kurt Wagner were in the middle of a group of children, contorting themselves like pretzels. "Alright, Keebler," Spider-Man said, "how about this?" He dropped onto a one-handed handstand, crossed his legs, put his free hand through the gap, pushed himself into the air, flipped twice, and landed on the other hand.
The kids clapped and cheered like crazy.
Kurt laughed. "Too easy, mein Freund!" He got into position, and seconds later performed the same move. He maneuvered his tail into forming a little heart above his body. The children 'oohed' and 'aahed' at that. "Think you can copy that, Herr Spider-Man?"
Spider hummed. "First of all, thank you for remembering the hyphen." He flopped onto the ground. "Second, don't rub the fact that you have a tail in my face. You've already got that wicked blue fur, sharp fangs, piercing eyes, and wonderful accent. Feel like I'm the Mets to your Yankees."
Kurt frowned, falling into a sitting position. "I am not a Yankee, I am German."
Spider-Man shook his head as he sat up. "No, they're baseball teams—bottom-line, you're making me look like a chump in front the kids." Immediately, the children cried out that, no, Spider-Man was not, in fact, a chump.
Kurt laughed. "It would appear our audience disagrees with you!"
"As they should," Kitty whispered breathlessly. Logan blinked at her tone, staring down at her and Rogue. The former licked her lips. "No one with a butt that cute and tight can ever be considered a chump."
"Damn straight," Rogue said, a light blush on her face.
Logan suppressed a chuckle—Piotr and Gambit would need to step up their game.
He poked the girls in between their shoulder blades.
Kitty yelped, almost dropping her phone. Rogue turned around with a glare. "What was that for?"
"For looking like a couple of voyeurs." Both girls looked away, embarrassment shining across their faces. Logan gestured over his shoulder. "Why don't you two let Hank and Charles know that our guest is fine?"
Rogue grumbled under her breath, but Scott coming up beside Logan and arching his brow put the lead in their steps. As they left, he heard Rogue tell Kitty to send her whatever video and photos she captured. Kitty replied that she was going to send it to everyone she knew.
Well, looked like a lot of guys would have to up their game. Except for Kurt, he supposed.
Scott shook his head as he walked forward, and knocked on the door. When everyone turned to him, he sent the kids an apologetic smile. "Hey there. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut play-time short. Logan and I need to have a quick chat with Spider-Man."
More than a few kids groaned at the declaration. Kurt sighed, and rose to his feet. "Now, now, little kinder, don't fret. Spider-Man will be fine. He can handle a scary Wolverine and mean old Cyclops, ja?" The kids groaned, but followed Kirk out single-file. One little boy did run back to give Spider-Man a tight hug. He whispered something, and Logan pretended not to hear what he and Spider-Man said to each other. Spider-Man sent the kid off with a ruffle of his hair.
When the kid left the room, Scott shut the door behind him, his smile vanishing in an instant. He turned on his heel, a scowl on his face as he pointed aggressively at Spider-Man. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"The Amazing, Sensational, Spectacular, Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man," Spider-Man coolly replied. He stood up and walked to a window.
Scott crossed his arms as Spider-Man opened the window. "You snuck out of the operating room."
"Yup—can't stand the smell of antiseptic wipes. Gives me a headache like the dickens." Spider-Man snapped his fingers. "That reminds me." He shot his arm out, a soft thwip sounding from his wrist as a thin cord of webbing shot out at a backpack in the corner of the room. Spider-Man pulled it towards him, and dug into it. "Give this back to Forge." He tossed a small object at Logan—a soldering iron.
Scott's scowl deepened. "You stole from Forge?"
"Borrowed," Spider-Man replied. "Well, the soldering iron—I have to keep the wires I grabbed." He closed the backpack and put it on. "I also took some chemicals from Beast's lab—needed to make some new web fluid." He chuckled. "But don't think you can try and recreate my formula—I also swiped a bunch of other, useless chemicals."
Scott let out a disbelieving laugh. "And you wonder why people don't trust you?!"
"I've never wondered," Spider-Man said as he shot out two weblines on either side of the open window and walked backwards.
Scott didn't hear him. He started to pace. "You break our property, attack our people, steal from us and-and—wait a minute." Scott paused, his angry glare giving way to a confused one. "Your suit was cut up, this one's brand new. And you said you broke your web-things. And the backpack…is it labelled 'Spider-Man'?"
Spider-Man had reached the end of his webs, the white cords straining from the tension. He tugged the lines twice, then nodded, satisfied. "That's right Cykie, the backpack is labelled 'Spider-Man'. It held the suit and webshooters you see before you. I stashed it in the mansion the last time I was here."
Now even Logan stared incredulously at Spider-Man. "You what?" he said in tandem with Scott.
"Oh yeah," Spider-Man shrugged. "You know how many of these things I go through a week? I hide spares every place I can get my hands on. I've got backpacks all over New York—in the sewers, the Avengers Mansion, the Baxter Building, here, obviously." He slowly turned towards Scott and Logan. "You'll never find them all."
"There's more!" Scott exclaimed. But Spider-Man had hopped up, shot out the mansion like a bullet, and disappeared into the horizon.
Logan stared out the window for a long moment, before shaking his head. He turned on his heel, taking a moment to close Scott's gaping mouth and pat him on the shoulder.
He liked Spider-Man—despite all odds—but the kid left giant headaches wherever he swung through.
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A/N: This was done as part of a fic exchange for reddit user u/ Moonlight_Writer. It was fun to write.
