Logan Howlett pushed the sleeves of his denim shirt up from where they’d been rolled back and was amazed at how warm he was. They were definitely in the middle of an Indian summer in Wyoming. The temperature had hit 60 degrees almost every day for the past week. The warmth and sunshine were great for getting the fences fixed before the snows hit. They’d already had a few inches of the white stuff but that was nothing when you were used to several feet piling up at a time. You could see the snow up in the mountains and it would be here to stay before you knew what hit you.
Logan’s wide leather-gloved hands grasped the wire stretcher and pulled it taught as his heavily muscled forearms and shoulders bunched and strained from the exertion. He then tied off the end of the wire and nodded in satisfaction. With the last wire repaired nothing would be going through that fence any time soon.
Logan loaded his supplies into the back of the old pickup and whistled to his chocolate lab, Bear. He turned the pickup around and headed back toward the main house. With Thanksgiving coming up tomorrow, everyone was working extra hard so they wouldn’t have to do anything but the most necessary of chores on Thursday. Most of them would be spending the day with their families. With no family to speak of, save for his brother, Tyler, who was in the Army and stationed overseas, Logan would have to rely on his partner, Scott Summers, and his family this year. Heck, Scott’s family was really the only family he knew anyway. When he had appeared in Centennial years ago with no memory of whom he was the Summers family had taken him in like one of their own.
He smiled as he thought back on the day nearly 10 years ago when he had met Scott for the first time. He had been a drifter, moving from town to town with nothing tying him down. He had stopped for a drink at The Broken Spoke, a local bar and honest to God honky tonk, when a fight had broken out. He had been sitting at a corner table where he could easily keep an eye on the rest of the room, obviously a habit he'd had from before he lost his memory, when an argument had started at a table near the pool tables. A young man, whom he would later learn was Scott, wearing fairly ordinary looking sunglasses was being hassled by a burly biker and his friends.
Logan hadn't intended on getting involved. Whatever their problem was, it didn't have anything to do with him. The guy with the glasses was being backed up by a friend but they looked like they didn't stand a chance against the five bikers. He would have just drunk his beer and left if it hadn't been for what one of the men had said to the boy. He called him a mutant freak. Those were the two words that had begun his involvement in the lives of the Summers family. Being a mutant himself, he really hadn't had any choice but to find out what was going on. Logan himself had woken up roughly 5 years ago in the middle of nowhere with no idea who or what he was. At the time, his age had been anyones guess. He soon discovered he had a metal skeleton including a set of pretty wicked claws and a healing factor that came in damn handy at times. With his enhanced senses it soon became fairly apparent why the name Wolverine was stamped on the dog tags he was wearing.
With a sigh, Logan had pushed out of his chair and deftly placed himself between the boy and the much larger man. He could still recall with perfect clarity what had happened next.
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“You got a problem with the kid?” Logan said in his customary growl.
“Ain't none of your business. He's a mutant and I got a problem with all of them,” the biker sneered at him. He was tall and heavily built and looked to outweigh the kid by 50 pounds or so.
“He just cheated my buddy here out of 50 bucks,” one of the others piped up. This one was as tall as his buddy and whipcord thin, lean muscles covering his body .
Logan quirked an eyebrow. “That so?” he asked glancing at the kid with the glasses.
“I didn't cheat anybody! I won that game fair and square and you know it.” The kid pushed aside the restraining arm his friend had put out and planted himself next to Logan. He wasn't as young as Logan had first thought although he surely wasn't much over 21.
The biker looked him up and down and folded his arms over his chest, emphasizing his large muscles. “How do I know that? You're a mutant ain't ya and the only honest mutant I ever met was a dead one.” His friends flanked him on either side making for a rather intimidating sight.
Logan dropped his arms to his sides and clenched his fists. “Besides the fact the kid can't see for shit with those glasses on, what proof do you have?”
“Don't need proof. I know he cheated.” Big and burly took a step forward getting closer to Logan's personal space.
Intimidation didn't work on Logan as a rule and this time was no different. He mentally sighed and resigned himself to the fact that this guy wasn't going to back down. He was obviously itching for a fight and Logan found that the idea had merit.
The skinny one spoke up again. “How do we know he ain't some kinda psychic or something? Maybe he was readin' our minds.”
“Gotta be somethin' there to read first, Bub,” Logan growled low. “Now leave the kid alone and everybody goes home with the same parts they came in with.”
Another of the bikers spoke up. “What are you? Some mutie lovin' freak?”
Logan curled his lip in what passed for a smile. “Something like that.” Without wondering how friendly this place really was to mutants, Logan unsheathed his claws with a flick of his wrists and a loud snikt in the sudden quiet of the bar. The adamantium shone in the dim light. He could hear the breath the kid sucked in next to him but the kid had guts. He never moved from his place next to Logan. “You boys sure you want to do this?”
They had each taken a reflexive step back when the claws shot out from between Logan's knuckles. Their comments ranged from “He's one of them!” to “What the hell is that?” to “Let's get out of here!”
Logan brought the claws up in front of him and smiled grimly. “I think your friend has the right idea,” he said with a tilt of his head, indicating the one who wanted to leave.
Nobody had noticed when one of the men in the back slipped a gun out of his inside jacket pocket and leveled it at the kid. Sensing the movement at the last moment, Logan stepped in front of the kid just in time for the bullet to slam into his shoulder. He stumbled only slightly under the impact and then straightened back to his full height. “That wasn't very smart, Bub.” Logan winced slightly as the flesh began to knit back together.
The one with the gun took aim and was about to fire again when Logan let loose a growl and launched himself at the man. His claws sliced through the gun in his hand with a scary precision. He pivoted and plowed a shoulder into the man's chest knocking him down where his head hit the floor hard enough to leave him dazed. Logan sensed the guys friend coming at him and pivoted with a roundhouse kick to the chest that knocked him back into the pool table.
Seeing another of the bikers moving in, the kid and his friend rushed him from behind, sending him into the wall with a solid thump. Logan spun around in time to catch the fist that was thrown at him square in the jaw. Big and burly smirked as Logan regained his balance. In a flash, Logan swiped his deadly claws across the man's chest leaving three perfect cuts welling with bright red blood. With some effort, Logan reined in the urge to simply gut the man and have it over with.
Instead, he grabbed him by the shirt front and hauled him closer. “I suggest you take your friends and get the hell out of here.” Logan's voice was such a low growl that if it hadn't been silent as a tomb in the bar, the man he clawed would have been the only one who heard him.
The men on the floor scrambled to their feet, one holding his bloody and broken nose. They grabbed their buddy, who was pressing his hands ineffectively over the claw marks, and hauled him toward the door.
“If you know what's good for you, you won't be back,” Logan heard the bartender tell them. “We don't need your kind in this place causing problems for decent people.”
Logan retracted his claws with a snikt and watched until the five men were out the door. When he turned back, the kid and his friend were looking at him in awe. He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his jacket and nodded at the kid as he moved away. The kid followed him back to his table and took the chair opposite of Logan without asking. Logan cocked an eyebrow and waited.
The kid stuck out his hand. “Scott Summers. Thanks for the help.”
Logan eyed him for a moment before giving his hand a quick shake. That was how their friendship had begun along with Logan's continued involvement in the lives of the entire Summers family.
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Logan had always though that Scott was lucky to have such a great family with all of his aunts, uncles, and cousins. They were a close family and no matter what happened, they were always there for each other, the way a family should be. It didn't matter to any of them what kinds of mutations appeared in any of the kids, they were just part of who they were. Mutations were becoming more prevalent today than ever before. It was the general consensus that it was just the next step in the evolutionary chain.
Scott's parents and grandparents had been integral in helping Logan recover some of his past. When he had discovered that he had a brother with the same healing factor that he had, it had made things both harder and easier. Knowing he wasn't alone made a huge difference in how he felt about himself. Thankfully Tyler hadn't been used by the government the way Logan had been. Instead, he had been living under the assumption that Logan was dead. When Logan found out Tyler was in the military, he had actually been quite apprehensive about contacting him. What memories he had weren't conducive to trusting anyone in the military. After some initial awkwardness on both their parts, they had discovered a mutual love of a good fight, better whiskey, and a beautiful and willing woman. That had been enough.
Despite Logan's missing memories and Tyler's time spent stationed overseas, they had grown closer over the past few years. They were both integrated into the Summers family although there was still a bit of a feeling of being the outsiders whenever they were invited to a family get together. If he ever had kids, Logan thought that he would want them to have a family like the Summers. Not that he wanted kids any time soon. For now, he was happy just the way he was. He worked hard and spent time hanging out with the guys, competing in an occasional rodeo and bedding any woman he wanted.
After the time he had spent on his own, Logan was still surprised at how easily he had adjusted to the more domestic life he had now. Logan glanced in the rear view mirror and his lip curled in a semblance of a smile. At least he knew the Wolverine in him wouldn't be tamed any time soon. Then again, maybe he was finally starting to feel his age. According to Tyler, he was 120 years old although he looked to be in his early 30's. Tyler, who was 114 years old, could still pass for 25. Scott's sister, Jubilee, swore Tyler looked more like Brad Pitt every day. Although she said it was the hot Fight Club Pitt and not the smarmy mustache sporting Pitt he'd recently become. Logan refrained from asking who he reminded her of. He didn't think he wanted to hear her answer. Logan pulled his Stetson off and ran his fingers through his short dark hair, making it stand on end even more than usual. Still he couldn't help but think he definitely didn't look bad for his age.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I don't own the X-Men or anything else belonging to Marvel. If Wolverine and Rogue were mine things would be very different. You know what I mean!