Logan supposes he shouldn't be surprised when Harry starts collecting things. Some of it's useful; Harry gathers sticks that they can use as firewood. He's fallen right into helping with the chores; gathering firewood, helping carry their clothes into the laundromat and load them into the machines. Even helping cook, not that Logan's much of a cook, himself.
Harry doesn't help chop firewood, though he clearly wants to. He watches with envy, but laughs, startled, whenever Logan uses an ax instead of his claws.
Harry brings sticks to Logan, one by one, pressing them against his knuckles until he carves them into kindling. Even after the near miss with Logan's claws during the nightmare, and the destruction of the toy motorcycle, Harry shows no fear whenever they emerge.
Harry's rock collection ain't as useful. Harry alternates between intensely studying the small speckles, as if the ordinary rocks might be gold, and hurling them into trees like he'd hurled billiard balls into people at the bar.
Logan smirks. Seems Harry's practicing for another fight. Logan spends an hour helping Harry improve his technique, and tries not to think about how he's actin' like any dad teaching his son to throw a ball.
Harry hauls a large rock over, drops it at Logan's feet, and tries to tug Logan's fist down, tapping impatiently at his knuckles.
"Yer makin' me feel like a kitchen boy." Logan grumbles, but he ain't really annoyed. Slicin' and dicin' has always satisfied the darker part of him, and he ain't indulging in that side as much with Harry around.
Logan has no clue how old Harry is. He ain't an expert on kids in general and he's sure Harry's small for his age. His relatives weren't feeding him enough, despite eating plenty themselves.
Logan at least makes sure Harry has enough to eat, even if he ain't suited to look after a kid in any other way.
With regular meals, Harry's no longer the runt Logan found in the cupboard. As the weather gets warmer, Harry looks pointedly at the bike.
"Yer gettin' big." Logan mutters, as Harry takes his usual place in front of Logan on the saddle. Really, Harry's probably still small for his age, but Logan was often called a runt, himself.
Harry tries to curl up in a ball, but it really doesn't help, and Logan grumbles "I can't see with yer rat's nest in my face."
Harry grunts, glaring, like Logan's going to pop his claws and shear his hair off or somethin'.
That wasn't what Logan had in mind. They ride to a dealership selling used bikes, and Logan purchases a sidecar. The salesman tries to charge extra to install it, as if Logan can't damn well do it himself.
Rather than wandering off and collecting things for Logan to slice, Harry stays and hands Logan tools. Rarely the right ones, but it's clear he's trying to help. Harry almost dents the sidecar with a wrench while trying to help, but the thing's dinged up anyway.
Logan learns Harry dislikes drills with a passion. Even with his headphones, he tugs at his hair when it whirs.
Once the sidecar is attached, Harry promptly ignores it and climbs into his usual seat on the saddle.
"It's fer you." Logan nods at the sidecar, though Harry doesn't budge. "Ya know I ain't the snuggly type."
Harry doesn't reply, and Logan scowls at the salesman's smirk.
Logan forces himself in front of Harry, and Harry wraps his arms around Logan. Logan still ain't sure he trusts Harry to hang on the whole time, but he knows how stubborn Harry is. If Harry's determined to stay on the saddle, then Logan just wasted his time and money on the sidecar.
Harry actually hangs onto Logan the whole ride back to the truck, and Logan realizes Harry hasn't only grown physically. He has the sense to hold on, now.
When Logan starts to dismount, Harry tries to hold him on the bike's saddle, grumbling like the bike's engine, so Logan takes him for a longer ride before finally stowing the bike on the trailer.
As Logan climbs into the truck, Harry looks slightly forlornly at their bike, perhaps missing the days when they rode it around all day.
"We'd have to leave the truck." Logan tells him. Logan doesn't particularly care; he's used to roughing it, but Harry hesitates, frowning. Logan knows Harry views the truck as home, even if he's never said so.
Harry glances at his toy motorcycle. He backs far away from the truck and holds his fingers close to his eyes, squinting as he squeezes his fingers close. Logan snorts. From Harry's point of view, it must look like he's squishin' the truck with his fingers.
"Don't flatten our truck, bub. I don't want ta see that trick." Logan drawls. Logan's seen Harry teleport, but now, he doesn't manage to shrink the truck down to pocket size, or whatever he was hopin' fer. Logan supposes it's just as well. Harry ain't exactly in control, and he might as easily blow up the truck as shrink it.
Harry lets out a growl that ain't nearly as intimidating as Logan's, flapping his hands in frustration. He pulls a rope from the trailer and drags it from the back of the bike to the front of the truck.
"Tryin' to tow the truck?" Logan raises a brow, shaking his head. He wonders if Harry could make the truck fly, like he had the bike, but Harry eventually admits defeat.
When Harry climbs into the truck, his reluctance is gone. He doesn't say it with words, but his face says it's good to be home.
Logan has no clue when Harry's birthday is, but he finds himself picking things up for Harry every so often. If anyone says he's spoilin' the kid, they're going to have a chat with his claws.
When Logan hands him a pocket knife, Harry shrieks with excitement. He clenches the knife in his fist, blade poking out between his knuckles.
"That ain't how you hold a knife." Logan starts to pull it out and readjust Harry's grip, but Harry's fist clamps down on the knife, hard. Of course, Harry's strength ain't a match for Logan, but Logan pauses when he sees Harry staring pointedly at his knuckles.
"Yer bein' me?" Logan asks. No use tellin' the kid he wouldn't want Logan's life. Harry's carved out his own place in Logan's life, a feat Logan didn't think possible anymore.
Logan scowls around his cigar as he watches Harry swipe low-hanging branches with his new knife in his fist. His life ain't been this peaceful in ages, and he knows it ain't gonna last. Harry's going to get hurt; everyone who gets close to him ends up hurt, or worse.
Logan doesn't know when Harry's birthday is. He hadn't remembered his own until Sabretooth started showin' up to give him a birthday beat-down.
Logan's going to have to keep Harry away from that. Kid might think he's tough with that pocket knife, but he ain't a match for Sabretooth.
Logan would never claim to be a good influence on Harry. He knows he ain't anyone's first pick of babysitter, nor is it his first pick of work. Watching Harry growl and bare his teeth at other customers the next time they stop at a seedy restaurant makes that all too obvious.
Harry's eyes are still drawn to the pool table, until his attention is caught by the man tying his large, wolflike dog to a post outside. The dog smells the meat cookin' inside and whines. The man snarls and aims a kick at the dog.
Logan feels his own snarl leave his throat.
Harry tracks the guy through the restaurant like a wolf watching prey, but he slips outside and starts sawing at the leash with his pocket knife. It ain't doing much, seeing as the leash is a metal chain.
Harry howls. The owner storms out, scowling first at the dog, then at Harry. He doesn't notice Logan behind him.
The man's furious shout is knocked out of him as Logan slams him into the brick wall. He struggles, spitting, then wheezes again as Logan jabs his fist against the guy's throat.
Two claws shoot up, barely avoiding grazing the man's cheeks, and his struggling abruptly vanishes, his furious slurring about freaks cutting off.
"You leave them alone, or I'll give you more'n a middle finger." Logan growls in the guy's face. Harry growls at the chain, sawing furiously with his pocket knife.
Logan extends the claws in his other hand and slices through the chain easily. Harry gives his own knife a rather disgusted look, as if it let him down personally.
The guy flees. Ain't brave enough to fight anyone he can't simply kick down. Harry leads the dog proudly into the restaurant, either ignoring or not noticin' the no pets sign.
"I told you we ain't getting a dog." Logan huffs as Harry happily feeds the dog steak. Harry howls again. "He ain't really a wolf, bub."
Once the dog is done devouring Harry's steak, it goes for Logan's until Logan growls at it.
Of course, now that they've freed and fed it, the dog follows Harry as eagerly as Harry follows Logan. Harry starts to urge the dog into the sidecar, and lets out a furious howl when Logan tells him, once again, that they ain't gettin' a dog.
Harry's face is a mix of pride and defiance as he leads the dog into their camper. Logan watches Harry's face fall as he realizes just how much of their small living space the dog takes up.
"Let him run free." Logan grunts. "Maybe he'll join the other wolves."
Harry shoots Logan a look. Clearly he'd been listening when Logan said the dog wasn't a wolf. Logan forgets, sometimes, that Harry's listening even when he's lookin' away or making sounds while shakin' his hands.
The dog starts eagerly shredding Harry's toy wolf, and Harry lets out a betrayed howl.
"We keep him here and he'll tear the place apart." Logan says. He can already tell this dog has a lot of energy, and keeping it cooped up in a camper ain't fair. He supposes the same could be said for Harry, but Harry ain't leavin'.
The dog does, taking the thoroughly chewed toy wolf with it as it disappears down the street.