I don't know where to begin my apologies for the lack of updates. Life has been CRAZY, and I've only been able to write during commutes or sneaky bathroom breaks (if I'm not catching up on some Zs). I have not abandoned the story! It's just taking forever, and I promise the next update will be a proper chapter. Once again, thank you all so much for bearing with me, giving me encouragement and support via comments/kudos/favs/alerts! You guys are what's keeping this fic going!

The Wolverine and the Bigga

Or

The Real Reason Why Wolverine Despises Cyclops

An add-on to the snapshot The Wolverine and the Mouse (chapter Seven and Something Looming)

Charles aged 2 and 11 weeks

Logan Howlett has had enough of the sight of Scott Summers' not-yet-fully-developed-boy dick (or if Logan is feeling extra spiteful, it would be Scott Summers' recently-fully-developed-and-will-forever-be-pea-s ized dick). Because of the aforementioned protrusion, Logan is on the verge of giving up on his self imposed mission, that or he's going to put his mutation to proper use, and get snipping, surely Jean will understand and forgive him one day, his reasons are just. However Logan was nothing but determined when his mind was set on something. And that something was to prove Charles wrong about who really was 'Bigga'.

Yeah, yeah. Call him an insecure, childish asshole all you want. He doesn't give a shit, because he's got a serious Alpha complex, and he might even be a little too proud of it. In any case, Logan is certain the boy is making assumptions from obscure memory and perhaps even vision impairment, he knows how foggy it can get in those bathrooms.

Thus, Logan has made it his mission to see for himself. Call it an exercise of compare and contrast. Proving or disproving a hypothesis. Whatever. Just let him see some damned cocks.

But. Fuck. His. Luck.

Because the only penis he's been getting the sight of was Scott freaking Summers'. And Charles'. Since the weather had felt more like the peak of summer rather than mid-spring, and the rambunctious toddler has really taken to scampering around completely nude.

Seriously. It really should not be this fucking hard to get a glimpse of a handful of cocks! Bras mysteriously pop and snap away at the sight of him, it is simply incomprehensible to Logan why he shouldn't have the same effect on pants and boxers. How can it be possible that he is able to steal, undetected, information and/or supplies from facilities with armed security, yet unable to get a glimpse of a penis with magnetic properties and another of indigo characteristics (and the red one too, because why not).

Well actually, Logan knew the fucking reason.

Scott let-me-flash-you-my-dick-and-cock-block-you-from-a ll-the-dicks-in-the-hood Summers.

Just this early afternoon, the kid's wiener was what greeted him behind Erik's en suite bathroom door, because apparently all the other toilets in this wing of the mansion was occupied. It's telling that Logan was so immersed in getting a look at a certain penis, he'd rushed into Erik's room, after observing his quiet, sudden departure from Charles' side, only to miss the man standing by the wall adjacent to the bathroom door with legs casually but purposefully crossed, and eyes growing wider as he witnesses Logan's mad dash into his locked and occupied en-suite bathroom.

The same flaccid flesh was also the only thing on display when Logan suggested the men take a sauna day last week, and Scott and Logan were the ones who didn't see the need to cover themselves with a towel.

Every attempt at some cock espionage is thwarted by one Boy Visor. It's gotten to a point where Jean is either going to turn Logan's brain into soggy cereal or have a serious gossip session with him in a pillow fort over hot chocolate.

And then there was Charles.

The tot who mocked his very existence. Without even knowing or trying.

For example, yesterday...

"Bigga! No! ! Bigga bigga! !"

Logan pulled a few neck muscles (which immediately healed) in his rush to peer through the thin wooden blinds to see a butt naked Charles running around on the soft green grass, thanks to Ororo, while he giggled and screeched widely, ordering Angel to turn up the sprinkler. Soon, Angel had taken flight, and was chasing after Charles with the hose on full power, and still the boy doesn't stop screaming 'Bigga! !'.

Then lunch today...

"Bigga! I wantits Bigga!"

With every 'Bigga' Logan's gaze, from sitting unabashedly low on his seat, jumps from crotch to crotch, cursing at the cloth from which his target is hidden within. His wondering eye catches the sight of a very unzipped and open fly, only to regurgitate a little in his mouth when Logan looks up above to table to be on the receiving end of Scott's glare via eyebrows.

"Bigga! Sean is too small! Wantits like Erie Bigga!"

Sean smiles fondly at the demanding boy, and the man must have the patience of a Saint, since his expression is never exasperated, not even jokingly. The red-head goes in for another scoop, giving Charles a larger serving of the buttery mashed potatoes deceptively filled with peas, sprouts and broccoli bits so that the boy takes his greens.

"Yeeeeeah~ Dats it."

Along with the creeper talk, Chuckles also bounces his nappy-clad bottom, barely covered by his leg-less onesie, up down and around Erik's stomach area, a plastic squelch sounding at every contact, while the man balanced the boy standing on his lap.

"I think this is enough. You can have more if you finish."

It certainly was a larger serving than what Charles was normally given, but it was still about a third of Erik's serving, with whom Charles shares his dining space.

"But I'mma big boy! I can take it Bigga! Like Erie Bigga! Peeeez!"

Logan looks around the table incredulous as to why he is the only person disturbed by the obvious innuendo spewing from the mouth of a two year old. Granted half of the filth that normally spews out of lil'bub's mouth is at Logan's urging, but this was something even he found inappropriate.

"You alright, Logan? Look a little pale."

All at once, too many sets of eyes focus on Logan, pulling him rigidly into an upright position. Before the man could even think of an adequately sarky reply to cover his momentarily lapse of panic, Charles skips around the table over to him with his little hands behind his back, a shy smile on his face. When he reaches Logan, Charles doesn't do the usual, and climb up into his lap, instead, he lifts an arm and reaches his hand high over his head, and plops into Logan's plate a little gift.

Logan watches stunned as a fat nub of homemade cocktail sausage, just over an inch in length, rolls haphazardly on his half forgotten plate.

"Your's!"

If Logan were in a more level headed, rational state, he'd have gone a little gooey, deep inside, at Charles' attempt at cheering him up. But let's face it, calm, collected rationality clashes with his style, so instead of being comforted by the tight hug the boy is giving his thigh, Logan's eyes twitch in agitation as Charles wipes his food stained face over his jeans.

~x~

Drastic times calls for the usual Logan Howlett measures. Fuck all this covert, behind the shadows crap. Logan faces his enemies head on and claws out. He's not going to a let little thing like decency stop him from stalking up to Hank from behind, adamantium ready to be unleashed upon some unsuspecting trousers. But when Hank disappears from view around a corner, Scott intercepts him, blocking Logan path to success with his visor set on level pain-in-the-ass.

"I like Hank alot. He's family. And I will never approve of you, so you should stop now. He deserves better than you."

The unspoken 'asshole' at the end was nonetheless heard loud an clear. Instead of questioning his life choices, Logan's mind immediately tried to work out what hallucinogenic drugs the kid on, because there was no other explanation why he would think Logan had a sudden hankering for some Y chromosome other than his own.

Logan was left so dumbfounded, he might have stood frozen in place for the rest of the day, because the next thing he knew, he was being watched earnestly by a pop-corn eating Ororo and a cocktail sausage munching Charles, both sitting in their pajamas in the hallway. It was Charles who noticed Logan's awareness first, and the boy smugly offers him an even smaller sized sausage.

~x~

So after an emasculating two weeks, Logan has finally admitted defeat. But he's going down with a bang. He stood outside the shut bathroom door, fists clasped tightly, verging on automatically triggering his claws. Logan knew very well who was behind this wooden door. After two weeks of being tormented by this duo, he could find them in his sleep. He was going to freak them out a little. Just as he is about to slice through the door, the unmistakable voice of a bumbling toddler echoed from within the bathroom.

"...Logan Bigga! !"

Well.

Logan thought as he stepped back silently from the still-intact door. That just leaves one to torment.

Now with a renewed sense of purpose, Logan whips out his cigar and walks with a kick in his step. He feels like he's learned something invaluable. Exactly what, he doesn't care. The most important thing is, he's got a new mission in life.

Cockblock Scott Summers.