Logan groaned in pain as his eyes somehow or another pried themselves open, early morning sunlight pounding into his retinas. His neck ached, as if he’d been sleeping sitting up all night.
Which, actually, he had been.
Wiggling his butt, which felt quite numb and sighing heavily, Logan reached towards his overly warm chest, sure that baby Marie needed a new diaper. In fact, he was surprised that she hadn’t made a peep before now. Didn’t Hank say it was weird for babies Marie’s age to sleep all the way through the night?
His hand met his own skin. A soft baby blanket covered his toned abs. But there was no baby.
No Marie.
Now wide awake, Logan jumped up, whirling around as he hoarsely cried out, “Marie? Marie?!”
Frantic, Logan crawled on the floor, looking under the bed, on the bed, under the dresser, in the dresser drawers, under the chair, in the bathroom, in the bathroom cabinets, on the ceiling, in the closet, and finding no Marie there either, he frenetically turned towards the bedroom door and reached to yank it open.
He stopped in his tracks.
There, stapled to the antique oak was a thin piece of white printer paper, a hastily scrawled, barely legible message awaiting his perusal.
‘Logan - If you want your baby back, bring a new iPhone to the Starbucks on Rosemont Dr. by 3:00PM, or you will never see her again.’
“An iPhone? What the hell is an iPhone?” Logan snarled, ripping the message off the door and storming into the hallway. Come hell or high water he was going to find his baby.
Monday morning signaled the return of the mansion’s students from their weekend hoopy-te-doo at Camp Onawana or whatever the fuck, Salute-your-Shorts shindig they’d been attending. One of them had to know what this iThingy was. Reaching out randomly, Logan snagged the first student within arm’s reach, slamming him up against the wall, his forearm in a chokehold against the kid’s neck.
“YOU!” he snarled, mentally proud when the little teal skinned, gilled boy automatically went pale and peed in his pants just a little bit.
“YessssirrrMrWolverinesir?” the mini-mutie stammered, hands shaking.
“What the hell is an iPhone?!” Logan shook the boy just a little for emphasis.
Glancing around, the kid pointed over into the shadowed hallway. Logan reached down and pulled out the slim, black, claw-fucked remains of whatever the hell that annoying noise making, text messaging machine Scott was “In a Relationship” with on that Friendbook, or Facebook, or whatever the fuck that thing was that Marie kept putting pictures of him in his sleep on when he wasn’t looking for the world to see.
“This is an iPhone,” fish-face said, “It’s got a big hole through it though.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Logan snarked, flipping the little gizmo over in his hands. He released the kid, then stalked away.
Cyke wanted to play dirty, huh?
He was about to learn that nobody played chicken with the Wolverine and fucking got away with it.
Sniffing the air, Logan smirked as he caught Jean’s scent wafting towards the medlab. Sneaking in the opposite direction, Logan popped a single claw and sliced through the lock on the door that led to Scott and Jean’s shared room.
Looking in the most obvious stash-place for naughty goods, Logan smirked broadly as he glanced underneath the bed to find a box of black-boxed DVDs.
Flipping through them quickly, Logan scanned the titles, then spread a shit-eating grin across his face as he came across one titled, “Little Bo Peep.”
“Wonder what that’s about,” he cackled, lifting it and two other promising looking titles, slipping back through the doorway, and heading back to his room for some R&R time with his Xbox.
---------
Scott tapped his foot nervously against the floor. Marie sat in a high chair next to him - on Jean’s suggestion he’d taken her to a baby boutique called Pea-in-a-Pod, told him he needed the practice.
Which of course, had led to the exposure of Jean’s well-kept secret, that she was, that they were pregnant. He had been exultant, she had done a silly dance. They’d hugged and kissed and laughed, and then she’d packed him up in the SUV for a day of practice Daddy-and-baby time.
However, he hadn’t told Jean that Logan hadn’t exactly given him permission to take Marie. Nor had he told her about the vaporized large game tranquilizer he’d injected into Logan’s arm as he plucked a sleeping Marie from his grasp.
Now he was worried that he wouldn’t live to be a father.
Maybe he should use Marie as a human shield?
Probably a good idea.
He lifted Marie, then strapped her into the Baby Bjorn hanging limply from his chest. A solid kick from her little heel connecting solidly with his solar-plexus made him gasp, “Oof!” She’d been hurting him all day without realizing it.
It was no fun to have your hand set on fire by a baby human torch while contemplating which fuzzy Fisher Price giraffe was actually the cutest, even though they all looked exactly the same. It was also no fun to have the finger broken when it was bitten during a game of coochie-coo chin tickling.
Whimpering at the bandaged finger, Scott glanced towards his watch through his ruby-quartz visor. The clock tick-tocked slowly towards 3PM.
Sheesh. Speaking of that, didn’t he order his caramel macchiato twenty minutes ago?
Standing up amongst his plethora of pink girly shopping bags, Scott walked towards the counter.
“Excuse me?” he called, wary as he realized that none of the normal barristas were in sight, “I’d like my caramel macchiato sometime today.”
No one else in the coffee shop seemed to notice anything amiss, chattering and pulling away at their baguettes, oblivious to the fact that all of the Starbucks workers seemed to be missing.
“Hello?” Scott called again, then glanced down towards the chalk sign that labeled which barrista was currently on duty.
Hello, today your Barrista is...Wolverine
“Mother fucker,” Scott whimpered, lifting his head slowly as a broad, calloused hand slid a cup of coffee towards him across the counter.
“Yours, I presume?” a very familiar, deep voice growled.
Scott felt all the blood rush out of his face as he stared into Logan’s furrowed brow covered eyes, “Th..Thanks,” he managed to squeak out.
Trying to nonchalantly back away from the madly grinning, green apron and paper hat clad feral behind the counter, Scott lifted the cup of coffee to his lips, took a drink, then spat the liquid across the restaurant.
“This isn’t a caramel macchiato!” he yelled, incensed, “This is black coffee!”
“Very strong black,” Logan said, using his hands to vault himself over the counter, “It’s so you’ll grow some hair on your balls.”
The entire coffee shop turned to watch the altercation, pausing mid-sip and mid-baguette munch to stare at the showdown.
“Now, give me Marie,” Logan said, holding his hands out, “And nobody gets hurt.”
“I told you in the note, you’re not getting this baby until I get a new iPhone!” Scott half-way yelped.
“Well tough shit Scooter, cuz I ain’t got an iPhone and I sure as hell ain’t buying you one!” Logan retorted, “Now, give me the baby, and you’ll walk away with your dignity.”
“I said, no,” Scott retorted, “Over my dead body.”
Logan stopped then and cocked his head to the side as if truly thinking about killing Scott, then rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles, “Well, if you want it to be like that...”
Scott winced, expecting him to pop the claws and lunge forward like a maniac berserker.
Instead, he calmly reached into his apron pocket, pulled out a little black projector remote, and pointed it towards the screen across the back wall of the coffee shop that normally showed pictures of soothing scenery and played yoga music.
It went black, then the camera zoomed in on a shadowed figure sitting in a chair.
It was Jean.
Even Logan had to admit, she looked pretty damn hot. She was wearing thigh-highs with wicked stiletto heels. A little pair of leather hot pants and a matching criss-crossed bra covered up very little of her pale as snow skin, torrents of red hair shielding her face.
She picked up something that looked like a flexible cane, then, motion activated camera following her every move, walked towards a figure that was obviously Cyclops, clad in a pink pinafore with shiny Mary-Jane shoes on his bobby-socked feet. “Bend over,” she growled, and the submissive Cyclops did as she asked, ruffles covering his nether regions in a swath of pink and white polka dotted fabric.
“Now, now, Little Bo Peep,” Jean growled, her finger nails scratching down his bare back, “Why the hell did you lose your sheep?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Scott whimpered pleasurably, “They ran away.”
“They ran away?” Jean snarled, the cane smacking across Scott’s bare ass, “That is unacceptable, and you call yourself an X-Man?”
“Yes, oh I’m sorry Jean, only if you say so, Jean, please Jean...” he whimpered as the spanking continued, “I’ve been a naughty boy, Jean, a really, really naughty boy...”
"Whoda thunk you were into femdom, Scooter?" Logan cackled.
Five minutes later, Scott was begging on his hands and knees, an astonished crowd gathering around the projector - including several old men who were hooting and hollering lecherous things towards pretty-boy Scott, who was now holding Marie out towards an impassive Logan like an offering to a pagan god, “Please, please take her back, I’m sorry, please make the projector stop, Logan, please!”
Smirking in an extremely self-satisfied manner, Logan reached out and took Marie from Scott’s arms.
He made as if to hand the projector remote back to him, then handed it to Marie.
Marie screamed and smashed the remote into dust between her hands, then let out a cackling, evil, baby laugh as she and her protector left the coffee shop.
It was then that Scott learned one of the most important lessons of his life.
One does not fuck-over the Wolverine, the Wolverine fucks you.
Grabbing his goods and taking off as fast as he could away from the coffee shop, Scott hid himself in a narrow alleyway.
“Hey, baby, can I have your number?” a deep masculine voice growled in his ear, and he turned to face the heavily-muscled, tattooed and earringed barrista who had first taken his order, “You look good in pink, mind trying that outfit on for me sometime? I’ll throw in some free coffee.”
“Oh, fuck my life!” Scott screamed, throwing his accumulated purchases into the air and running back towards his car. Once there, he climbed in and hid his face behind his hands on the steering wheel, face flushed.
And to make it worse, he still didn’t have a new iPhone.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
In which Scott discovers the wrong way to ask for a new iPhone plzkthxu.
Let me know what you think - this time, Wolverine gets to do a little damage instead of baby Marie! BTW, I brought Jean back into the story, but she does serve a purpose! Enjoy!
"I hate my Life" by Theory of a Deadman. This is how Scott feels. lol.
I hate my job
All of my rich friends
I hate everyone til the bitter end
Nothing turns out right
There's no end in sight
I fucking hate my life
Let me know what you think - this time, Wolverine gets to do a little damage instead of baby Marie! BTW, I brought Jean back into the story, but she does serve a purpose! Enjoy!
"I hate my Life" by Theory of a Deadman. This is how Scott feels. lol.
I hate my job
All of my rich friends
I hate everyone til the bitter end
Nothing turns out right
There's no end in sight
I fucking hate my life