Somehow, taking in a mute kid ain't as life-changing as Logan had expected. It hasn't stopped Logan from being a wanderer, or a loner. He ain't alone anymore, but Harry's not the type to annoy him with pointless chatter.
Logan doesn't know much about kids, but he knows Harry is different. Most kids would be talkin' his ear off, complaining about the long hours on the road and the lack of other kids to play with.
Aside from midnight wanderings to befriend the wolves, Harry's pretty low-maintenance. Logan suspects he'd be much higher maintenance if Logan tried to insist he talk and sit still, though the rumble of the bike always seemed to satisfy his restlessness, even if the sound had overwhelmed him.
Mostly, Logan leaves Harry to his own devices, which suits both of them fine.
One morning, as the sun peeks through the curtains of the camper Logan had affixed to the bed of his pickup, Logan wakes before Harry. Usually, Harry's clambering all over him, even on the nights Logan tries to distance himself after a nightmare.
Immediately, Logan realizes that the sheets are wet. Growling softly, he hopes Harry hadn't wet the bed.
There's no scent of piss, which Logan would easily be able to detect even without his enhanced senses. No, he smells sweat, though he doesn't recall Harry having a nightmare. He tries to shake Harry awake. "Hey, bub. Harry."
Harry hardly stirs, laying limp and listless. Logan brushes aside Harry's sweaty bangs. His forehead, and the lightning scar, are almost shining with sweat, and his skin is hot to the touch.
Logan curses. He ain't a doctor. Kids are enough of a mystery without illness on top. Logan's healing factor takes care of this stuff for him; or rather, Logan doesn't get sick in the first place. He doesn't know what the hell to do.
Harry's eyes eventually open, but they're glassy and dazed rather than their usual vibrant green. They still hold a hint of confusion that Logan's checking him over, like he expects Logan to just let him sweat out the sickness himself.
Once again, Logan longs to sink his claws into Harry's relatives.
"I ain't leaving," Logan mutters before sliding down from the sleeping nook above the roof. He exits the backdoor and climbs into the driver's seat.
Fortunately, they aren't too far from civilization this morning, and Harry got sick now instead of in the cave. It's only a ten minute drive into town now. Logan checks on Harry quickly before heading into the store.
Logan scours the shelves for fever medicine, inspecting small plastic pill bottles. He gets some bottled water, and initially walks right past a spinning rack of stuffed animals, but then pauses and strides back. Nestled among the bears and bunnies is a plush wolf with soft fur.
It might stop Harry from trying to befriend real wolves. Logan grabs the toy and heads for the counter, silently daring the man ringing his purchases to comment on the toy.
"Kid's sick?" the man asks as he scans the bottles of pills. "My Amelia had the flu a few weeks ago. Knocked her right flat for three days, it was terrifying, but kids bounce back quick. A few days of hell, and she's up and running like always."
Logan gives a vague grunt and nod, taking the bags and stalking out the door.
He climbs into the back of his truck. Harry barely acknowledges his return. Sure, Harry may seem to be in his own head a lot, doesn't always acknowledge Logan to begin with, but Logan finds himself uncharacteristically worried. He finds himself missing when Harry's lively and bouncing like that ball of his. He even misses Harry's excited shrieks.
Harry's too dazed to even take the offered pills. Logan has to pop them in his mouth and hold the water bottle, tipping the water in, too.
Harry sputters and ends up coughing the pills onto the bedcovers. He trembles, sweating, and Logan swears.
Reading the back of the bottle again, he realizes they aren't supposed to be taken on an empty stomach. Cursing louder, he cleans up the coughed-up pills and settles Harry on the pillow.
He doubts Harry will tolerate breakfast if he can't swallow pills, and has to stop at another store for juice and chicken soup. He ain't even sure that's what you give a sick kid, but it's liquid.
Logan never pictured himself as the nurturing type, and he feels vastly out of his element propping Harry up and slowly tipping juice and broth down his throat. Harry vomits at first, but eventually keeps some down.
He crushes two pills with his fist, mixes it in with the juice, and slowly but surely gets Harry to drink them.
"Yer doin' good." he tells Harry, before remembering the wolf. He pulls it out of the bag. "I know it ain't real, but we can't have a pet."
Harry clings to Logan more than the wolf.
"I'm here," Logan rumbles, smoothing a hand over Harry's messy hair. Logan hopes this sickness ain't serious enough to need a doctor. That'd lead to a lotta suspicion over Logan's claim to Harry. Logan supposes he technically kidnapped Harry, but his relatives sure weren't putting up a fuss. If it weren't for the woman's evident obsession with normalcy and cleanliness, he'd think they were glad that the likes of him had taken Harry off their hands.
Logan supposes it's lucky he hasn't sent Harry to school yet. No need to call and report the absence, not that Logan even has a phone. Logan doesn't remember ever attending school himself, but he doesn't remember ever being a child, either.
They haven't stuck around anywhere long enough to attend school, but he doubts any school would take Harry, both because of his various abilities and various disabilities.
Logan sticks around town today, hardly leaving Harry's side in the camper. This sure ain't the life he expected, especially today, but life without Harry would feel lonely.
The thought doesn't sit well with Logan. He's used to being by himself and he can't help feelin' Harry's in danger, stickin' around him. But he knows the world ain't going to be kind to Harry, both for being a mutant and for being different. Somehow, his gruff care is still the most kindness Harry's ever been shown.
By afternoon, the fever reducers seem to be having some effect, and Harry hasn't vomited the juice or broth for several hours. He's aware enough to grab his broken toy motorcycle and press it to Logan's chest, asking for a ride.
Logan ain't sure if the recent chill had caused Harry's sickness, but he supposes the air and the wind will feel like a balm on Harry's flushed skin.
He uncovers his motorcycle and carries Harry over. Harry slumps against him even more than usual. Logan takes Harry for a short, slower ride, during which Harry's usual whoops and tense excitement are noticeably absent.
Logan steers the bike back towards the camper and bundles Harry back into bed.
By evening, Harry's drinking the juice himself. He's recovering even quicker than Logan expected, almost like he's got a healing factor too. Logan doesn't know if he could spend days actin' as a nurse, but it seems it won't be necessary. Whether it's the medicine or Harry's abilities, he's just glad the sickness appears to be ending within a day.
He supposes it's good they ain't stayin' in a cave now.