“Ahm starvin’…” she whined, sliding further down into her seat and dramatically clutching her stomach.
“You’ve mention that,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead trying to smooth the scowl his muscles permanently locked into. “Four god damn times.”
“Yeah, well, mah condition hasn’t improved neither!” She pushed his shoulder and he could only shake his head in disbelief. No one ’shoved’ the Wolverine, he didn’t know how to react to it, especially to a girl a third of his size. Her ’condition’ wasn’t hunger, it was being fucking insane.
“Unless you want to eat grass there ain’t shit I can do about it.” One hour. He was starving himself, he just had the decency not to be a whiny brat about it. But one more hour and they’d be at the first town since they’d left Canada.
“Gah!!” She kicked the floorboard of the already beaten car. “How tha hell could there be NO towns? Please tell me there’s some in *this* state.”
“We’re almost to Bowbells now.”
She gawked at him, the corner of her mouth slowly turning up. Panic rushed up in him when he saw her face. It cause his knuckles to turn white from the pressure he gripped the steering wheel. ‘Don’t giggle…don’t giggle..’ he chanted silently to himself.
“Bowbells, North Dakota?” She snorted and he sighed. It was probably the most beautiful sound he ever heard at the moment. “Who tha hell comes up with these names?”
She continued to ramble on about town names or cows or something, he wasn’t really sure. He stopped listening to her after ‘who tha hell..’. It was a talent he applauded himself for learning so quickly, the male population would be proud. Five hours of driving in the car with her across the void that was Montana she very rarely took a breath. At first he told her to shut up. Several times. But she said something about her yapping was his punishment for destroying the radio. Evidently the kid really didn’t like silence. So after the first hour he gave up yelling at her. It only made her yell at him and the more upset she was the thicker her accent got to the point he had no clue what she was saying. And that only intensified his headache.
Just before they made it to the state line he was able to tune her out and he eased a little bit. The sound of her voice blurred into a thick humming noise that soothed his nerves instead of scratching against them. The only thing that broke his peaceful state of mind was her occasional giggling. That's when he silently contemplated how to get that damn giggle box out. As it was the best idea he had was to cut her neck, maybe that would limit the vibrations of the vocal chords...
"Logan!" He had to brace himself to keep from banging into the window when she pushed him again. "Look!"
He snarled at her but followed the line of her covered arm down to the tear in her glove on her finger and finally to a tiny warehouse in the distance.
"So?" He huffed. There were no cars there that he could see, which meant the place probably wasn't open, if it even ever was.
"Read tha sign, sugah. 'Mort's Outdoor Wares and What-Nots'." She giggled, but it was less maniacal and more child-like so it wasn't as much of a fight to keep the claws in.
"Ya ain't got no clothes, Logan. What-nots either."
He grumbled because the last thing he wanted to do was go clothes shopping. It would only increase the time between him and getting food. And with the sort of hits his mutation had to take lately he needed food to recharge. "No, wait till we get to town."
"Ahm not waitin' for shit. Stop tha damn car."
He did not want to stop. He did not want clothes over food. So why the hell was his foot pressing on the brake and the car turning off the road? Subliminal mind control must be part of her mutation. There was no other explanation behind why his body was continuously disobeying him and doing what she wanted.
She patted his hand on the gear shift, smiling at him. He jerked it away, though, as if her gloves were laced with acid as well as dirt. He hoped the reaction would offend her, she was far too friendly for just being some random, psychotic stranger. But she just winked at him and opened her door as soon as the battered car came to a complete stop.
She popped her head back in the car, holding the door open. “Stay here for a sec.”
Narrowing his eyes at her his hand stilled on the door-pull. “Why?”
“Sugah, if you’d stop askin’ me ‘why’ every damn time ya open ya mouth we would save a lota time.”
He couldn’t argue with that. It really was a waste of time and breath, she hadn’t given him a straight answer since he meet her.
So instead of fighting it he just leaned back in his chair. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was watching her walk across the dirt parking lot. It really was a shame there was no one else around. The moment definitely deserved a catcall. Her hips didn’t just sway in seemingly perfect timing with his heartbeats but the damn girl actually strutted. That was the only way to describe it.
The warning chime echoed in the open space of the store. A leather-hide old man stepped out from behind a set of shelves three times his size.
He stopped right in front of her, his hands stuffed in the back pockets of his grim covered jeans. “Somethin’ I can help you with, sweetheart?”
“Ah jus’ saw this cute little store an’ had ta stop! Kinda out in tha middle of nowhere ain’t ya, sugah?” She smiled at him, playfully biting at her purple painted nail polish.
The action wasn’t lost on him and he fidgeted on his feet. He let out a nervous little laugh, but had to clear his throat first. “I like it just me. Get enough folks comin’ through to pay the bills and what-not.”
“Ain’t ya worried about safety? Here all by yaself?” She asked, gently tugging at the end of his shirt sleeve. “Course, ah bet ya got camera all ova tha place...”
“Nah. Don’t need ‘em. I got Old Betsey behind the counter if there’s any trouble.”
Her head turned and she studied the counter, pursing her lips out.
“So, sweetheart, I--” The old man stopped when her hand moved down from his sleeve and grabbed his arm. He chocked as his dark skin quickly drained to a marble grey, the veins in his arm nearly matching the color of her polish.
The car began to trap the heat of the afternoon sun making the air inside unbelievably hot and stale. He didn’t dare risk leaving it on for the air conditioner; they barely had enough gas to get to town as it was.
He watched the door but couldn’t see anything. What the hell was she doing that he had to sit out there and sweat his ass off?
Just before he was about to leave her (seriously, he was going to) she stepped out of the tainted glass door. With no bags in her hands. He raised an eyebrow at her; since he thought shopping was what she was suppose to be doing in there.
She waved at him, jerking her head at the door and he assumed that meant she wanted him to come in. He sure as hell was not trying anything on if that’s what she had up her sleeve. At least it would be air conditioned in there. Well, hopefully it would be air conditioned.
“Hey, sugah!” She bounced beside him as he slowly shut the door behind him. “Anythin’ ya want, its yours!” She motioned at all the various items piled in the one large room.
But he was not looking at the merchandise around him, only starring at the tiny man lying crumbled on the ground. He stilled, seeing the image in front of him but not processing it. Without his intention his head turned towards the girl like his mind was trying to clear it up for him. And he saw her biting that full bottom lip of hers; idly poking around the store like there was not a man on the floor. Then he was just mad.
“What the fuck did you do that for?!”
She turned around, a red flannel shirt in her hand, “What? Ah think it’ll look good on ya... Damn, if ya don’t like it that much we’ll get tha blue one. Geez.”
“Not the shirt!” He growled, snatching it out of her hands. “What the fuck did you do THAT for?!” His finger was shaking in furry as he pointed at the man. His finger, his arm, even the metal inside of him was hissing from the heat. “Are you trying to attract as much attention to us as possible? I don’t think They need a god damn bread crumb trail to find us! You didn’t have to do that! I HAVE fucking money. Plenty!”
“Well that’s real good, sugah, ‘cuz we’re gonna need it. At places like restaurants, gas stations, motels n’ whateva. Places ah can’t possibly put down all tha people there. So jus’ relax n’ save ya damn money for then an’ pick some stuff out!” She grabbed the shirt back from him with a loud ‘huff’ before storming back into the mountains of shelves, disappearing from his sight.
He shook his head and started towards the racks of jeans in the back. No, there was no way They wouldn’t connect what happened to the ‘What-not’ man here to what happened to their fallen comrades. Shit, why the hell didn’t she just call Them and tell them they’d be in Bowbells in a hour. Like HE wouldn’t be hard to pick out in a crowd of 30 or however many people actually lived there. Or her! For fuck’s sake the girl had two giant white streaks in her hair! That’s liable to stand out in a tiny northern town, he just guessed.
He tore through the jeans, throwing the ones that were too small on the ground while he ranted in his head. He wasn’t sure whose sick joke it was to send her to him but when he found whoever it was the claws were definitely coming out.
Finally finding his size he grabbed all four of them that were there. If they were going to rob the place he might as well go full out. Satisfied he turned to the shelf behind him and eyed it. He didn’t really need shoes; they’d just be more to carry. Then a bright gleam caught his eye, calling to him. Belt buckles. Displayed in all their glory in a beautiful glass case, probably the only clean thing in there.
Running his fingertips along the glass he couldn’t help but notice how much dirtier it was after he touched it. Soil was beginning to build up on him after the fight, running from Them and his multiple wounds, and sweating all day.
He looked down the line, studying them. A goose flying, a Budweiser one, one with a naked chick, a buck, a cross, a stallion, a cabin… He stopped at the next one. A god damn buffalo. He wasn’t sure if that was funny or not. But he soon forgot the buffalo when his dark blue eyes fell on the last one: a snarling wolf head.
The thick bullet proof glass easily shattered under his fist, spraying clear pellets all over the floor.
“Ya alright back there?” Her voice floated back to him but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Uhh…fine.” He grunted.
A slow smirk slid onto his face as the damage done to his hand was instantly mended when he touched his prize.
“Damn, took ya long enough.” She watched him lurch up the aisle closer to her. She was at the front of the store, laying stretch out on top of the counter, piles and piles of clothes under her head.
He just grunted and threw the jeans and shirts he had picked out on top of her, nearly burying her in the merchandise.
She giggled that innocent one that somehow didn’t bother him as much, and tucked her arms behind her head. “Ah gotca some undashirts considern’ ya’s is all bloody n’ torn. Sorry, no leatha jackets, nothin’ that nice, jus’ camouflage. Ah didn’t get no undawear ‘cuz ah figured that was a little personal and ya can get ya own. But there’s some here in tha back right corner.”
“Nah, I don’t wear underwear.”
She blinked at him a few times, her mouth in a little ‘o’, before she busted out laughing. “Shut mah mouth an’ call me cornpone! Ya can’t go givin’ me heart attacks like that, sugah. Ah’m too young to die, especially by chokin’ on mah tongue.”
“Let’s just get out of here before someone else comes along,” he glanced at the window and started pulling things off of her, stuffing them under his arm.
She sat up and the shirts that were piled on top of her chest slid down slowly as she did. And she made no move to stop them but he was able to grab them before they hit the ground. “Logan, we’ve been here almost forty-five minutes now an’ ain’t no one come. Relax.”
“I’ll stop asking you why if you stop telling me to relax. How’s that sound, kid?” He offered her his free hand, noticing that she once again had her gloves on. She took it and jumped down of the counter and stepped out of the way so he could collect the undershirts she had been laying on.
“Deal. Ah don’t suppose its mah turn ta drive?” She twisted the material at the end of her gloves, batting her eyelashes at him.
“No. Didn’t they have gloves here?” He asked looking down at her hands. They really were filthy, he wasn’t sure if he even remembered what color they were.
“Oh, yeah, but they were all like wool n’ stuff. These are fine for a while.”
He nodded and adjusted the enormously heavy pile in his hand. “Uh, kid, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you don’t have any extra clothes either.”
She shrugged, “It ain’t like 'Mort's Outdoor Wares and What-Nots' has a ladies department. Ah’ll just find somethin’ lata.”
She started making her way towards the door and he assumed that was the signal that the discussion was over. He was relieved when he walked past the old man without jumping over him or sticking her tongue out at him or something…
He followed her, just trying to maintain the massive load in his arms. She helped by holding the door open for him but he noted that she made no offer to help carry anything. The exit was tight with his broad shoulders that were made even wider now with his arms outstretched. He tried several different options until he finally managed to squeeze through the door turning sideways, lifting the load a bit.
“Oh! Ah forgot somethin’!” She pushed past him back through the door as soon as he was out of the way.
“Hurry up!” He called behind him and walked back to the car. It was probably about six now and he didn’t know about her but it felt like he hadn’t slept in forever. Not to mention the hunger that was now causing his stomach to eat itself, he was sure. Damn store had shit from duck calls to umbrellas but not one fucking vending machine.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I got nothin' to say but enjoy! :)