“Bills” - Hay River, November 2029, Revised Timeline
It was almost as if, if he took his glasses off, the numbers might become blurry and pick themselves up off the page and rearrange into better configurations. But every time he settled the readers back on his nose, the stark reality of not enough stared back at him. The lake house he so desperately wanted to buy was over forty thousand dollars; he was a couple grand short of ten. And with barely enough money from fix-it jobs to cover their monthly expenses, that number wasn’t lookin’ at growing to anything significant anytime soon. Logan let out a rough sigh, dropping the sharpened-down no. 2 pencil and running a hand through his greying hair. The checkbook ledger still stared back at him angrily though, and Logan couldn’t help but growl as he stood from the kitchen stool, pawing for his mostly lukewarm coffee in his chipped, red and white I’d Rather Be in Canada mug and moving over to the fraying, hand-me-down loveseat he had purchased in the cramped and cluttered living room.
The snow was thick and heavy outside on this Tuesday morning in November that was slowly creeping into Tuesday afternoon, and the steady thrum of the radiator and the collection of short stories, Dubliners, by James Joyce still propped open on the coffee table reminded him that he should be feeling nothin’ other than lucky. Lucky for the relative bliss of the past month, a month that had changed all of their lives, because, for the first time since Laura and Logan had stumbled into this tiny, northern town a handful of months ago, there were now three people living in this apartment instead of two. Marie’s presence now graced the Howlett’s days, and while much of their moments had been wrapped in a happiness that he felt like he had long since lost the chance to feel, he would be lying if he hadn’t admitted to some growing pains as the harsh reality of what “ now? had settled upon them.
Out of stubbornness more than anything, Logan took another sip of now-cold coffee, before frowning and setting it down once more. No phone calls. No work today. It seemed that Hay River had managed to keep itself in one piece lately, and once again the nature of his work frustrated him. He had also not been able to go up to the lake house lately, as snowed in as they all were, knowing the Bronco could hardly make the trek uphill along the long gravel drive. No work of any kind, then, and of course also no way to change the numbers still written out in Logan’s blocky scrawl in the ledger still leering at him from the counter.
For the first couple of weeks since Marie had arrived in Hay River, what little work that had been coming in Logan had turned down, choosing, instead, to spend most days in bed with her while Laura was at school. They had taken full advantage of Laura’s absence to relearn the lines their bodies, and as Logan watched the mark on her neck he’d given Marie that first night turn less angry-red to a light pink, the more he found out about her and the life she had lived in the three years since he had seen her last. And when the afternoons brought Laura home, they had spent much of their time inside the apartment still, learning slowly how to be a family. Marie’s cooking often filled the tiny space with rich fall scents of thyme and paprika and nutmeg, and Logan and Laura enthusiastically ate their fill. Nights had also been filled with movies, as Laura insisted on working their way through her favorites she had procured over the last few months from Kay’s shop to let Marie experience them. Marie, of course, relaxed on the loveseat with her wool socks propped up on the coffee table, with Laura perched between them, refrained from telling the younger girl that she had seen most of them already, a good handful of them with Logan himself back years ago in their home at Westchester. Beyond the living room, there was also the occasional snowball fight, a trip or two to the department store for new winter clothes, and even a parent-teacher conference at Laura’s school, which Logan had invited Marie to, much to Marie’s initial hesitancy and then gratitude.
The town, as well, had taken the curious appearance of Marie in relative stride. Marie had gone to great lengths to introduce herself and get to know Kay, learning of her early-on kindness towards both Logan and Laura, falling into the habit of helping the older woman in her shop on a majority of afternoons if Logan was working. Marie had even driven Laura to Cole’s house a few times so Laura could play videogames with him. She had made a friend in Jody, too, and the thin story they’d come up with, that Marie had been tending to a sick aunt in the United States and that’s why she had not initially made the move with Logan and Laura, seemed to be believed by everyone except for the suspicious stare of Kay, although the older woman never brought up the issue or challenged the narrative whatsoever.
Now though, as the temperatures had plummeted and more snow two feet deep blanketed the ground, the typical days spent inside the tiny apartment were starting to feel…well...cramped. The place had been small to begin with, and even though Marie had very few belongings and was mindful of the other two feral mutants and their need for space, a cloying, cabin fever had started to infect them all.
Logan’s stark realization that it would be a long, long time until they had somewhere larger to live did little to raise his spirits. At this rate, it would take years to save up enough to buy the lake house, if at all. And with the ever-present, often painful cough he tried his best to stifle in front of Marie especially, he wasn’t quite sure if he would ever see the day the deed to it’s front door and sprawling deck he had been routinely fixing would ever be in his name.
At this last depressing thought, his lungs seemed to respond in kind, seizing up once more in pain, and he growled as he shakily stood, limping over to the bathroom. He snagged a paper Dixie cup from where they were stacked on the sink and filled it with water to drink. After he had downed it, he realized he was now looking at himself in the mirror. An old, grizzled man stared back. He frowned sourly as he tossed the cup, now moving to flip on the faucet and run his hands under the warmth of the water, trying to loosen up joints and ligaments. He hadn’t had a single fucking nightmare since Marie had arrived, and while he usually felt grateful for this, this fact, along with the gentle peace and security they found themselves swaddled in living in Hay River, had meant that Logan hadn’t extended his claws in nearly a month, which usually was a bad thing. His hands ached, everything ached, and even as he shut off the water he realized he would have to use them soon. And just releasing them and getting blood all over the bathroom floor and them sheathing them again was not enough. He needed, wanted to, sink them into something warm, rip something open and gut it mercilessly. This was the animal inside him demanding, still, even in this civilized life he found himself in, for Logan to use his body in the way it was meant to be used, despite his growing problems with his health. Maybe he could take Laura hunting, he idly thought to himself. He had promised her they would before she had disappeared at the lake house what felt like years ago, although in reality only a little over a month of time had passed. If he could just kill something, even a fucking rabbit, maybe it would quiet the fucking restless animal in the back of his mind. You’d think from all the time Marie was keeping him busy in bed the goddamn Wolverine would be satisfied, but….
“Yer an old, fucked-up, selfish bastard,” he muttered to his reflection for good measure, just as he realized the front door had opened and closed off to his left.
“Who’s a selfish bastard?” he heard Marie shout from the kitchen, and Logan turned quickly, leaving the little bathroom to see her precariously toting several paper shopping bags in each hand, her cheeks flushed from the cold, hair escaping the braid she had done up her hair in after their mutually shared shower this morning. He couldn’t help but grin at her, instantly going to take a few bags from the woman, as she smiled sweetly at him and pecked him on one scarred cheek in thanks.
“I appreciate it, sugar,” she added, as she plopped her half down on the counter. Logan noticed the open checkbook in that moment, and deftly grabbed it, snapping it shut. He hadn’t quite gotten to the point of sharing the news or the exact amounts of his modest finances and savings with this woman he was still getting to know all over again, and he’d be damned if she discovered just how fuckin’ broke he was that way. Using the moments of Marie already distracted, rifling as she was through shopping bags, pulling out various fresh vegetables, he shoved the checkbook in the junk drawer haphazardly, before turning back around to her.
“Eight Canadian dollars for strawberries. I mean I know they’re out season, but jeez!” she exclaimed through a shake of her head, lifting the carton up in disbelief. “God forbid I feed Laura healthy food.”
Logan only smiled at her slightly, moving to help her unpack the rest. “At least she’s eatin’ what you make for her, darlin’. She’s had more vegetables in the past three weeks than she’s had all year with me,” he growled, lifting celery and tomatoes out of a shopping bag. Marie only rolled her eyes as she folded the bags flat, saying, “You did fine with her on your own,” before Marie said walking around the counter, to get better access to the pantry.
Logan only snorted, but grabbed her hand regardless, groceries momentarily forgotten, as he took advantage of the cramped space of the kitchen, realizing, of course, her ass was in grabbing distance.
“Still though, I appreciate it, darlin’,” he muttered, as he pulled her a little bit closer, and even though she held a carton of yogurt in one hand, he bent over gently to take her mouth in his own. He could sense her trying to not give in to his touch, even as a gentle moan into his mouth gave her away and just as he moved a hand to grip her ass, Marie promptly and quickly broke the kiss.
“No. No sex yet, you brute. I’m still sore from this morning,” she grumbled, swatting him on his arm with her free hand and then scooting him over so she had access to the fridge. Logan only growled his dissent, even as once more he moved to help her, unpacking the last of the bags.
“Jeez, kid, you really went to town. Thought you were head over to the store for a couple things’,” he said, realizing there was enough food now on the kitchen counter for several meals’ worth.
“Well, I was, but I then remembered you and Laura are currently eating us all out of house and home,” she grumbled, quietly and neatly organizing the newly procured cold items in the tiny fridge.
“I warned ya. Laura’s a hungry one,” he said through a cock of his eyebrow, and Marie only grinned at him in response as she stood back up once more. She had been “popping into town” to stock their kitchen and fridge every couple of days, Marie never asking for money to do so. Logan still wasn’t sure of her financial situation, or whether she had worked during the years they had been parted, other than working to bring down corrupt government initiatives, and, just for the same reason he had hidden the check book from her, Logan realized their relationship was ultimately too raw and oddly somehow too new enough to ask. And even though he’d been profoundly grateful for the help, especially as his fix-it jobs had been drying up, something about it still irked him. Marie was his , and there was something profoundly, rudely wrong if he couldn’t make enough money to provide for her. Remembering the stray thought from earlier, he cleared his throat once more to speak as he handed her a gallon of whole milk, the last of the groceries to be put away.
“Was thinking… maybe later this afternoon of takin’ Laura out to the forest, doing some hunting…” he tapered off. Just as Marie closed the refrigerator door, she gave him a suspicious arch of an eyebrow.
“The snow’s pretty deep,” she said cautiously, folding her arms in a way that meant she might be a little uncomfortable with the notion. Logan only gave her a shrug of his shoulders.
“Kid needs exercise,” he grunted, moving to rustle about in the fridge once more to pluck a longneck from a fresh six pack, before moving back into the living room to escape the skeptical stare of Marie. “Besides, a whole deer is a lot of venison. And Kay said we could use the yard out back to dry what we don’t freeze for jerky,” he muttered into his beer, halfway lying. There was no fucking way he was gonna admit that he, too, was cagey or mildly unsatisfied with anything at all in life right now, even if it was just a bit of fucking cabin fever. He had, for the second time in his life, thought Marie was dead, and to admit to feeling a little fucking restless after only three weeks of her being in his life once more felt like a cardinal sin.
“Uh huh,” Marie muttered, arms still crossed skeptically as she followed him into the living room, plopping down on the loveseat beside him. “Isn’t that what gym class is for though? To expend Laura’s energy?” she asked carefully. Logan couldn’t help but snort into his beer, before looking up to Marie once more.
“Marie, last month, she decapitated an entire army of military soldiers, with ease. You think a little indoor basketball is gonna satisfy her? Besides, if she clocks another kid at school they’re gonna kick her ass out.”
Marie only bit her lip for a moment, before staring ahead at the darkened TV and the haphazard stack of old, partially-scratched DVDs once more. “If you think so,” she finally muttered, just as Logan helplessly let out a strangled, violent cough after a swig of beer. Marie held her tongue as the coughing fit eased, before sliding a glance over to him once more.
“Maybe it’s not her I’m worried about,” and with this Logan only gave her a roll of his eyes.
“Kid, I’ve told you, I’m fine. It ain’t no worse or better than it’s been for the past year.”
“And how would I know that?” Marie barely murmured under her breath, turning to look at him through desperate, sad eyes. At this, Logan focused more on her, beer forgotten on the side table as he turned to face her squarely, moving to run one rough palm down the side of her soft, flawless skin.
“I know we’re learning to do this again, darlin’, but some things you gotta just trust me on,” he said, before deftly sliding the pad of his thumb over her lips. At this, Marie closed her eyes in contentment, nodding slowly as she did so.
“I….know. I’m...sorry,” she murmured, and that was that. Logan couldn’t help but growl as he quickly swept her up in his arms, much to her exclamations.
“Logan, what’re you…” he only let out a snarl to silence her as he took her into the kitchen, setting her ass squarely down on the counter.
“I don’t care so much how sore you are, kid,” he growled lowly into her ear. Her breath caught in her throat at this, even as his hands had already snuck up under her sweater, thumbs toying with the lace of her bra.
“ Logan!” she squeaked, just as he shoved the bra aside and pinched one nipple a between two fingers, hard. He loved watching her squirm and proceeded to do it again to the same nipple, even harder, savoring the feeling of it pebbling between his fingers. Then her sweater was off, followed by a quick snap of his wrist to undo her bra, and for a moment Logan could only marvel at the beautiful, shirtless woman, hair escaping its hold, falling down her shoulders as she looked down at him with lust in her eyes.
“I was thinking…” he tapered off through a grin, just as he moved closer, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and then adding teeth.
He could feel her hiss with a ripple of pain, breathing a “ What?”, before he came up for air once more.
“First time I had you, you were up on a counter like this.” She shot him a mischievous glance, before he moved to her other nipple, sucking hard again.
“I was so nervous back then- Jesus!” she sucked in air as he bit her, but at her words he stopped, looking up to her quizzically once more.
“Nervous? The only thing I recall you being is too tipsy for yer own good,” he teased, and she couldn't help but blush.
“Come on, baby. I...I had aged since you’d seen me. I wasn’t exactly the sweet little teeanger you apparently picked up in Laughlin,” she murmured, and something in her expression had fallen. Logan had to stifle a bark of surprised laughter at this, catching a glimpse of his own scarred hand as he ran it down between her breasts.
“First thing’s first. You weren’t “sweet.” You climbed in the back of my camper and pretty much forced me to take you some place. You were a little spitfire. And for another thing, I didn’t want a fuckin’ teenager. Still don’t,” he growled, finally taking both hands and scooting her off the counter before gently lowering her to her feet. “And have you taken a good look at me lately, kid?”
At this, Marie only rolled her eyes, before snaking her arms across his broad chest and around his neck. “You’re still beautiful as ever. If you think a few scars and a little grey hair are enough to chase me off you have another thing coming,” she whispered into his ear. Logan only growled out an approval. It was true in the last few weeks they had learned how their new bodies had worked with each other, and there were more than a few occasions Logan had cursed the heavens above for not having the fucking stamina he once did. Still though, he’d managed to fuck her three, four times a day for the past several weeks, a record he proudly kept at the forefront of his mind.
“Take the rest of yer clothes off and bend the fuck over Marie. We’re doin’ this,” he barely ground out, afterward savoring the sharp intake of her breath at his blunt command.
“But…’ she stammered, and he snarled again.
“Do it. I want you, now, kid. And I’ve always been I. the habit of takin’ what I want.” Her eyes were a fiery brown as she stared at him, before lifting a brow at the challenge, as she quickly kicked off her jeans and he did the same.
“What...you have plans to degrade me in our own kitchen, Mr. Howlett?” she teased, and something in his chest felt warm and right at her use of the word “our,” even as she teased him for the name he’d adopted as an alias while living here. He could only snarl as he stepped forward, placing a hand on the nape of her neck and quickly and roughly turning her, bending her over the edge of the counter so all he had was a view of her sweet, luscious ass.
“Yer gonna pay for that quip, kid,” he muttered, smacking her ass lightly as she giggled, and then the giggling stopped abruptly and was replaced with a moan of pleasure as he entered her roughly from behind, simply hoping she was wet enough.
She was, and she voiced her satisfaction at how quickly he seated himself inside her, and the anger, frustration, claustrophobia he had been feeling he gave right back to her, as her hands scrambled for purchase on the chipped laminate countertop and he pulled out and shoved himself roughly inside her once again. Fucking her so brazenly like this, like animals, he could feel the Wolverine snarling, wanting more, but he instinctively shoved the beast back down, intent on staying in control, even as he rutted into her. It was hot and slick and wild in the early afternoon light, and he couldn’t fucking help biting down on her shoulder roughly as he held out as long as he could, as he felt her own thighs quaking around him, as she hissed a stream of heady, pretty curse words to the counter as he managed to still not come, pounding into her roughly, showing her, maybe showing himself, that he was still man enough, still animal enough, to fuck her thoroughly and to serve her right.
Afterward, they collapsed onto the kitchen floor in a tangle of sweaty limbs, as Marie let out a laugh at how ridiculous it all was, them laid out on the linoleum tile, but also she breathed out contently, the look of supreme satisfaction apparent on every feature. It did something for him, seeing her like that, even after all this time, after all this pain. She shakily wiped her forehead as she moved to sit up a little more, pulling him more to a sitting position as well.
“Well,” she managed to breathe. “This apartment is so small, we were bound to fuck in the kitchen. I’m only mad because I had just cleaned it,” she said through a coy smile. Logan only growled out a satisfied breath, before pulling her close to him, their backs up against the cool refrigerator door still humming behind them, still full of new food, the gifts Marie had imparted on them all.
“Guess so,” was all he could manage to say, as he stifled another cough and savored the feeling of her thin fingers caressing the scarred spaces between his knuckles.
“And... you might as well go hunting,” she finally added, turning to look at him. He smiled oddly at her as he lifted a brow. “That so?” he finally asked.
“Yeah. As much as I love making love to you sugar, I could use a break,” she teased, and at this he let out a bark of laughter before gently nipping her neck, lining his teeth up with her scar, the mark had given her, before letting go, realizing, of course, she was probably right.
---
The feeling of ice and bitter cold barely affected Laura as she watched her papá. He was stone silent, eyes alert, all taught muscle and tensión. She strained her own ears and eyes, trying to make out whatever he sensed and felt frustrated when she couldn’t. Her blood was pumping in her ears, and she felt exhilarated with the chance to show her padre that she was strong and silent enough to accompany him. That she was capaz. But the forest was thick and the snow was deep, and everything looked blancablancablanca, and smelled like it, too. It was the moment before she was about to speak, and he already had a finger to his lips, telling her to remain silent. She sniffed the air again deeply, desperate to sense the same things he seemed to. And then a jerk of his head and low growl, no words, and yet the words in their own, animalistic language as clear as day: just shy of your right. 20 metres ahead. A buck. Big. She quietly smelled the air in that direction, and then, finally, she caught it. The scent of musk and fur and heat, and...if she listened closely enough, the steady thrumming of its heart.
Laura was in pure elation when Papá had suggested they go hunting earlier that afternoon, and that Marie had given the ok. She had felt more than a little pent-up at home, as much as she had loved Marie being there, and now that they were out here amidst naturaleza , still bundled up in coats and hats and scarves via Marie’s orders, but still somehow wild and free, down to their core beings, she could not feel closer to her padre. Also, too, her claws itched in her hands and feet, desperate to be used, to be--as her papa had said so long ago-- useful. Útil.
At her restlessness though, she felt her father place a silent, heavy hand on her shoulder. Not yet. Let him come to us, she interpreted, once more without words . She breathed out exasperatedly, careful to not make too much noise, as the sounds grew louder. She knew already, her father was to make the kill. She hadn’t said cualquier cosa about it, but Laura had sensed over a week ago the need, the hunger, flowing off of him. To provide. To serve. To simply rip and tear and maim. It was a hunger she fought herself, at all costs, as he’d asked her to. But she’d never seen the same desire so apparent in her own padre, and she knew, as much as she wanted to show him how she was more than mature enough for this kind of kill, he needed it more than she.
The heartbeat was louder now, closer. They waited silently, as the buck approached. Grande was right. El animal within her was practically salivating with the thought of it. She was bloodthirsty after North Dakota, the wild side of her, wanting, needing to smell blood on the air. And this was her chance, if only her papa would make the move.
But then, everything changed. The buck quickly lifted its head, then froze, and she could feel her padre’s body ripple with tension. The deer had sensed them o algo. But how? But then, what happened next was tan rápido como un rayo.
Her padre had surged forward, quiet and strong and swift, just as the buck had began to move. They were two blurs, her father dark and strong and lithe and the buck brown and wild, against the snow and lines of bare trees, as he quickly closed the space between he and the buck. Then… a wild, animalistic snarl, none like she’d ever heard from her father, filled the air, and then...yes...the scent of blood. She watched as he drove his claws through the head of the buck, quickly and ethically ending its life as it let out a loud bellow, then he indulgently sliced into its belly anyway, gutting it. His garras were a flash of metallic silver and the buck’s entrails spilled quickly onto the frigid snow, melting the ice instantly. Laura stood frozen, watching, as finally, her father stood, breath only every few seconds punctuated by a hoarse cough as he turned back around to face his hija, bloodstained and feral. Finally though, as he breathed, the darkness left his eyes, and she realized he had come back to himself. He exhaled, his breath a steamy plume of white smoke against a cloudless sky, as he beckoned her forward with two fingers, before a hoarse command.
“Gonna...tell you how to prep it…” he finally ground out in Inglés
“ Sí, Papá,” she finally whispered, coming back to her own words.
“Laura…” he finally added through ragged breath.
“ Sí ?” she asked timidly.
“You say nothing to Marie about this, you hear me? About the details. About how I did it. Liked it. Nothing. ”
“ Sí, Papá,” she said yet again, even as he continued on to explain.
“Some of this stuff. The wild inside of us, el animal?” he stumbled over his Spanish, as he looked up to her with bright, hazel eyes, before continuing on. “She doesn’t need to see, you hear me?” he demanded, and this time she only nodded, once more staring at the corpse of the buck, marring the white snow with stains of red.
---
Later, back at the apartment, it was all Laura could do but not sigh in utter happiness after every spoonful as she ate what Marie had been calling “venison stew,” the chunks of meat Marie been marinating all evening flavored with the tangy vegetables and broth. Laura ate as slowly as possible, all three of them crowded around the kitchen counter as they were, as she savored the taste of the meal. She realized, perhaps too late in her own hunger, that her papa and Marie were not really talking, and while she understood something was off, she was too hungry from all the álgebra and then the hunting to do anything about it. Papa had been outside for two hours after coming back, skinning the buck and preparing it. Laura had spent most of that time outside with him, even in the bitter cold, listening as he talked his way through the process, but after a while she had started shivering and he had sent her in. The rest of the time she watched Marie watch him from the window, a worried look on the older woman’s face.
Papá was eating enough too, which Laura was glad to see. He worried her sometimes, with the spells of silence and no comer y solo beber he would occasionally fall into, but not since Marie. Since Marie, he had been happy, content, at least Laura thought so. But currently as no one was speaking at the dinner table, and recalling a conversation she had heard Cole and his friends talk about at school today, she decided to break the el silencio.
“ Papá ...or Marie…” she began awkwardly, as both adults looked up to her. “ Puedo hacer una pregunta? ”
Marie only looked to Logan quizzically before he murmured, “She wants to ask us somethin’.” Marie turned back around to face Laura, and Laura smiled at her heistantly.
“I head some niños at school talking, and...I think I need to know...what’s this thing they’re calling ‘Christmas’?” she asked carefully, only to watch Marie whip her head over to Logan with an accusatory glance and watching her padre shrug his shoulders with a mild look of guilt, before settling into his stew once more.
“Well, umm, it’s a holiday,” Marie stammered. Laura nodded enthusiastically. She had understood this much. She had figured it was something like los cumpleaños they sometimes, although rarely, had celebrated back at the lab. For a moment, Laura thought fleetingly of the family she had left behind, and frowned, before adding, “Is it...like a birthday?”
“Uhh, not quite,” Marie murmured. “Well, sort of. It’s...well...it’s based on a religious holiday, but a lot of people celebrate it even if they aren’t religious.” Laura furrowed her brows at that. She had heard Cole talking about various ceremonies and rituals at his tribal meetings, but when Laura pressed him about what it meant, he had also shrugged it off as “religious stuff.” She knew what God was, at least, she thought she did. After they had escaped the lab before meeting her padre in El Paso, nurse Gabriela had told her to rezar a Dios, pray to God, every night before bed in hopes they would make it across the border safely. After Gabriela’s death, and then Charles’, she had kept up the practice, although she wasn’t sure, always, who she was talking to. Most of the time, she pictured her madre she had not known, whispering her secrets and hopes to the faceless woman in the dark.
“What...do you do during it?” Laura pressed for more information, and again Marie looked to Logan. Papá only cleared his throat awkwardly though, moving to stand and clear their dishes as he limped over to the sink, effectively leaving Marie with the job of explaining. Marie shot him a look, even as he grabbed una cerveza, and made his way over to the loveseat to watch the Calgary Flames, Papá’s favorite hockey team, currently pateando la mierda de, kick the asses of, the Toronto Maple Leafs, like he said they would earlier that evening.
“Well, uhh,” Marie stammered. “When I was a little girl, we put a big pine tree up in our home, and umm, decorated it. Put presents under it too,” she said. Laura scrunched her nose at this, trying to understand. Decorate a tree? Wasn’t a tree a tree? Why did it need decorating? And wasn’t it happier outside? Laura shook off these thoughts as Marie continued on. “It’s also, a time for family. I remember, our house, because it was a bit bigger than my cousins’, it always was home-base. My mom would be cooking for days. And you think I can cook? Laura, it was the best food. Sweet Potatoes with marshmallows, carrot souffle, collard greens with bacon, and the turkey,” Marie trailed off, eyes distant as she clutched a dish cloth to her chest, as Laura, although she had just finished eating, was practically salivating at the thought again. From the loveseat, Laura shot her padre a look to see him shaking his head slightly through a small grin, simply listening to Marie indulge Laura in fantasies of holiday feasts.
“And dessert,” Marie said. Laura's ears perked up once more. “Sugar cookies and cakes and pies. Oh, the pies . My mama would make cherry and chocolate. Ooh! And pecan, my favorite.” At this, Papá snorted from the loveseat, and Marie and Laura whipped their heads around to stare accusingly at Logan.
He only grinned into his beer before muttering, “Sorry. Heh. Memories.”
At this, Laura blinked at him and smiled slightly, before sliding off her stool and sitting next to her Papá on the loveseat, choosing to lay her head down on his shoulder. He didn’t always like to be cuddly, but tonight she felt the warm growl in his chest as he put a heavy arm around her, even through another swig of beer.
“Did you ever celebrate Christmas, Papá?” she asked. Logan only frowned, setting his beer down just as Marie made her way over with her own beer, taking a seat next to Laura.
“Uhh, yeah kid. At the mansion I did,” he muttered, and he could feel his eyes once more settle on Marie through a sad smile. Laura tried to temper her excitement at the rare mention of the X-Men, realizing typically her padre became quiet and solemn when talking about it, but Laura had to know….
“I bet they had a big tree. And there were lots of presents,” she said with stars in her eyes, toying with the edge of her padre’s flannel sleeve. She heard Marie laugh at this as Papá rolled his eyes, before Marie set down her beer and poked Laura on her shoulder. She turned to the older woman, curious.
“You know, Christmas is only a month away. We could get a tree. And maybe have a present or two under it,” she said, and Laura could feel a happiness stronger than any natural instinct she might have surge inside her. She sat up quickly, Logan’s arm forgotten as she turned to face Marie.
“Really?!” Laura exclaimed, to a nod from Marie. She instantly turned back around to face her padre, but her smile fell at the grimace on his features.
“This place is a little small for a tree, Marie,” her father muttered, taking another swig of his beer. Marie only rolled her eyes. “Well, even if it’s a small tree. Haven’t either of you seen A Charlie Brown Christmas?” she asked, and as both feral mutants simply blinked at her, she simply rolled her eyes once more. “Oh come on. Neither of you have a drop of American in you, do ya? Jeez! I’ll have go down to Kay’s shop tomorrow and poke around, see if I can find it. And, ooh, Laura! Maybe this weekend, since it will be December, how about we go get one? A tree? You can pick it out. Hell, you can probably chop it down,” she added through a grin. Laura gasped with excitement, turning once more to her padre for permission.
Logan sighed for a moment, glancing to Marie once more, before murmuring, “Sure kid. And if you do the work, since it’s your deal, why not?” She squealed in delight as she practically jumped on Logan, engulfing him in a big bear hug, knocking the wind out of him, and he laughed a bit at her loving attack, patting her back a couple of times in response.
--
It didn’t take long for Laura to fall asleep, as late as it was and as exhausted as she was from the afternoon hunt and from all the chattering about Christmas afterward. She had dozed off on Logan’s arm during the hockey game, and Logan had only looked to Marie, who had simply nodded, before Logan picked up Laura and quietly took her to her room, placing her on the small twin bed amidst her few belongings. For several long moments afterward, he simply listened to the steady sound of his daughter’s breathing, moving a lock of hair off her forehead, before shakily standing up again, looking around the sparsely furnished room. Chipped paint. A sagging bookshelf. A banged-up desk Logan had bought off Jody on the cheap. Logan frowned once more, running a heavy hand over the edge of the desk, which was currently littered with sheets of math homework, half-finished. Logan frowned, realizing in his need to expend some feral energy and hunt and dragging Laura along as the excuse why he needed to do so, he hadn’t checked if she’d finished her homework. Another fuckin’ parenting mistake, of which he made many. He’d have to get her up early then , he realized through an exasperated grumble. One more look around the shabby room, and he exhaled sharply, before snapping off the light, and quietly closing the door.
Slowly, he limped back into the bedroom to find Marie dozing on the loveseat herself, now in flannel pajamas and still in her wool socks, and he realized he had been standing in Laura’s room longer than he thought. He sighed, moving into the kitchen to pluck a glass and fill it full of cheap brandy from a half-empty bottle in the corner, before moving back into the living room, carefully lifting Marie’s legs where they lay lengthways and settling her feet in his lap. He steadily breathed out, finally taking a sip of the amber liquid, the taste sharp and pungent on his tongue. Just then though, he could feel her stirring, and he watched as her eyes blinked open once more, staring at him tiredly and with a certain curiosity from the opposite side of the loveseat. He smiled at her but she still frowned, before quietly murmuring, “So….spill.”
“‘S’cuse me?” he muttered.
“You’ve been grumpy all day…”
“Hrmpph. No I haven’t,” he retorted, but, recalling his demeanor at dinner, decided to not try to defend himself any further. The truth was he was in a bad mood, for no other reason than the obvious. He could run outside and take down as many deer as he wanted, but at the end of the day they were not a pack of wolves. There were times, early on his life and after Alkali, that he had basically fed off the forest like an animal, as an animal, but that time was no longer. He had to survive in the civilized world, which meant money and checking accounts, which meant taxes and budgets, which meant Christmas presents and clothes for Laura.
“So….? Tell me why, ” Marie soothed, finally moving to sit up more, running a soft hand over his forearm where he had folded up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. He tried not to quiver slightly at the feeling of her fingertips on his skin. There were times, he realized, his body still had difficulty believing this woman was back in his life, no matter how many times he’d come inside her, no matter how many ways she’d touched him. She had been a voice, a ghost, for over three years, and now...well... now. Meanwhile, he realized she was speaking again, and he tried to pay better attention.
“I’m not an idiot, Logan. You forget how well I know you. Of course that hunt was for you,” she was saying, and he downed the rest of the brandy in a single gulp, before uncomfortably standing, beginning to pace the tiny space of the living room.
“Jesus. I’m sorry, kid. I just wanted… I don’t know. I wanted to do something, Marie. To give you something,” he muttered, and just then the floorboards made a loud creaking sound as his boot met contact with one, and he instantly shot a look over to Laura’s room, casting out his hearing to make sure he hadn’t woken her with the noise. Meanwhile, Marie was blinking incredulously at him, like he’d just said he was actually from Mars or that he wanted to track down the Brotherhood and join their ranks.
“Excuse...me? Are you blind? You give me everything. Every day…” she trailed off as she followed him with her eyes, but he wasn’t hearing her. Or, perhaps, he just wasn’t listening.
“This place is a shithole,” he spat, waving his arms around the room. “And I ain’t got enough to change it. I’d saved...god baby… I’d saved forty five grand in the years with Charles, but all of it got left behind after the goddamn reavers ransacked the place in Mexico-” he was yammering, but she immediately cut him off.
“Baby… you mean...this has all been about money?” He looked at Rogue sharply, before a growl escaped his chest.
“Not...entirely,” he added, choosing then to stalk over to the kitchen, intent on refilling his glass of brandy.
“You feel trapped,” she murmured to herself still from the loveseat after a few long moments, and Logan froze just as he was able to take a sip of brandy.
“ No,” he finally hissed, as he set his glass down on the counter. Marie had stood though, quietly padding over to the kitchen, careful to step in the right places to not make the floorboards squeak again.
“You do, ” she whispered to him harshly, before crossing her arms. At this, he exhaled frustratingly as he limped over to her, and they met in the kitchen, where a few hours ago he had her bent over the counter to claim her.
“Darlin’...jesus. Not trapped with you. Just….fuck. Just...trapped here, in this place. It’s not the life I wanted for us,” he muttered, as he ran a hand down her shoulder. “And... fuck. I ain’t got the time, baby. Don’t got the time to save the money I need. Hell...Laura’s now talking about Christmas. Now I’m just hoping I can scrounge up enough to afford that, let alone the goddamn lake house.”
Marie simply blinked at him, a quizzical look on her features.
“The...lake house?” she asked, and Logan realized, in that moment, he had never told her about it. Hadn’t mentioned he’d been fixing it up when Laura was stolen from him, or of his plans to one day own it.
“It’s just...this dump a few miles north. It’s on the edge of the Slave Lake, but it’s a mess. Needs work, but it could be something. In fact, it really could. But…” Logan sighed, dropping his hands from her arms and taking a swig of his brandy again before adding, “This ain’t the way I wanted to break the news babe. That we’re pretty much broke.”
At this, to Logan’s shock and surprise, Marie simply laughed. Logan’s mood soured even more so as he failed to understand her meaning, until she managed to add, “Well, now there, at least, you’re wrong.” Logan only blinked at her, waiting for her to explain.
“Oh, sugar. Why are you so goddamn stubborn, so prideful? Why didn’t you just tell me? I’ve got over twenty thousand dollars in a Canadian bank right now, and another sixty thousand in one in the States.”
“ How? ” Logan growled. He knew that all the accounts associated with Xavier’s, all the money he and Rogue had saved in their time teaching there, had been frozen and their assets seized after the Westchester incident. That had been a painful realization when he’d been trying to get gas on the first leg of their trip when he had fled New York with Charles, the memory of the blinking words “Insufficient Funds ” on the screen in front of him. Meanwhile, Rogue was smiling a bit more sadly, her arms crossed.
“I lived like a nomad for three years, sugar. And missions, well, outside of the X-Men, missions pay. I hardly spent any money, and saved it all, hoping it would give me the means to find you. And it did,” she said through a tired smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile back. Instead, despite himself, he simply let out a low growl taking his brandy up again from the counter, and brushed past her to pace once more in the living room.
“ Now what’s wrong ?” Marie snapped a little too loudly, her temper obviously growing. Logan whipped back around to her, a sneer on his face.
“I can’t take yer money,” he groused, before downing the rest of the brandy. “I won’t.”
Rogue’s eyes were wild with incredulity, before she quickly walked back into the living room.
“You are fucking ridiculous, Logan. You most certainly will. It’s our money as far as I’m concerned anyway. I can add your fucking name to all the accounts,” she said through a grumble, but he was barely listening, snarling as he paced the cramped living room.
“It ain’t mine. I didn’t earn it,” he growled once more. “And it’s my job to provide for you Marie. Not the other fuckin’ way around.” At this, Marie let out another laugh, although he could sense it was laced with anger as she walked over to him, snatching the glass from his hand and setting it down on the coffee table. She then took his face in her hand, forcing him to look at her.
“Listen to me, James Howlett,” she hissed. “ I know you’re probably got a two hundredth birthday coming up and all, and your views have always been a little too fucking outdated, but you need to get a few things straight. We’re partners. I might let you bend me over this counter top and fuck me senseless-” and at this he couldn't help but smirk, but her grip on his jaw tightened and he shut his mouth “-but that’s because I let you. We’re a team. We’re family. What’s yours is mine, and vice versa. You are not the head of this household, at least not anymore. We are. So set aside your nineteenth century sexist bullshit and leave behind some of that feral nonsense and listen to me. I saved that money for you. To find you. And, in my most desperate moments,” she stopped for a second, dropping a hand from his face and smoothing her belly, where he knew her scars he hadn’t know the origin of still lingered, “I hoped that one day I would find you, and with it, we could call somewhere home. So this lake house of yours, You’re taking me to see it, I don’t care how deep the snow is. And if it feels as right to me as it does to you and Laura, we’re buying it, and all fucking winter you can expend as much energy as you want fixing up the damn place, if only for my own sanity.”
Finally she dropped her hands and simply stared at him desperately, before he let out a low sigh. She was right, he knew it. Once again, it was his goddamn pride that was getting in the way. They simply breathed as they stared at each other, when they both heard the telltale creak of Laura’s bedroom door and then saw Laura’s small face poking out from behind it.
“Daddy, listen to Marie,” she muttered. He said nothing as they both stared at Laura apologetically, as she then added, “And why didn’t you tell me you were two hundred years old ?” she asked through wide eyes. Marie covered her mouth with a guilty smile as Logan growled, running a hand through his hair.
“Look, I’m not that old…” he started, before letting the topic of his age go, realizing Rogue was probably right, dropping his hand and changing the fucking subject. “Fine. Tomorrow, Rogue, I show ya the lake house, if only because I can’t fuckin’ stand you two ganging up on me,” he added, to a pleased squeal from Laura and a victorious grin from Marie.
---
Her feet already felt frozen as she followed Logan up the steep trail in the late morning hours the next day. She was adorned in a parka and fleece gloves and good snow boots meant for hiking, but no matter what she wore, no matter what she did, even if she tried to match his stride and put her feet in the same, deep footprints he made, it didn’t matter. The cold was mind-numbing, and she wondered, not for the first time, how Logan was managing. She was beginning to regret her decision of forcing him to show her the lake house without the Bronco, but they both had decided it was impossible for the old vehicle to make the journey in this sort of weather. Now, though, she felt rather sadistic as every once in a while the sharp, brisk air was punctuated by a hoarse cough from deep in Logan’s chest. Logan’s change of appearance over the last three years they had spent apart rarely bothered her, but the cough, the limp in his gait, and the way his hands sometimes trembled did , if only because her anxiety spiked every time she noticed these signs. She had plans, secretly, to consult a specialist soon. He was so fucking stubborn, but she knew even a simple course of antibiotics or anti-inflammatory medication might at least help soothe his pain a little. It was a conversation and an occasional fight they had had several times over back in Westchester a handful of years ago, but now things were, of course, different. And worse.
Still though, she tried to remain optimistic as there was a break in the line of trees. She felt she had won a battle, if not the war, by having Logan agree to show her the place he so pined for. As Logan slept in late this morning, Laura had shared tales before school of all of secret work Logan had done on the lake house prior to that fateful October evening she had been abducted by Transigen. Since early September, even, he had painstakingly surveyed the property and had drafted a thorough, albeit daunting, list of all the jobs he would need to complete for it to be remodeled and serve as a proper home. Laura also described its expansive deck, and proximity to nature, and the sound of the lapping water at the lake’s edge. So, if Marie was being honest, if it looked even remotely as Laura described, she was more than happy to agree to purchasing it. Of course, the apartment they currently inhabited was small, as much as she loved the close proximity to Kay, but, realistically, Logan had never, ever anticipated another adult’s presence living within its confines.
Slowly, even though her feet were numb, the sun started to break through the late November clouds as she finally reached the top of hill with Logan, and there, camouflaged as it was in the miles of white snow and frozen lake beyond, sat the two-story dwelling, noble and beautiful and ridiculously in need of repair, but Marie could tell right away its bones were solid. Good. Right. She breathed in sharply, and it was just then that she noticed Logan was looking at her hesitantly for her approval.
“I know it needs work,” he muttered, but she cut him off.
“It’s... perfect,” she whispered, and suddenly her feet were stumbling forward, magnetized as she was by its allure. She could practically feel Logan’s smile from behind her as he followed her toward the deck stairs, and, with a cautious look to make sure they were safe to climb and a nod from Logan in response, she ascended them, step by step, to the deck. And she was met with the most beautiful view of the Northwest Territories she had ever seen.
“God...” she breathed, and she felt Logan’s gloved hand, in a rare gesture, take her own.
“I want it...to be right. For you, I mean,” he said through a squeeze of his fingers. “You can have whatever the fuck you want. Granite countertops, wooden floors, anything. I was hoping, and I’ll show ya- come inside!” he interrupted himself, and suddenly he was shoving the door open, to showcase a large, expansive space with freshly-laid floorboards and a set of stairs that made their way up to a partially-finished loft, the bare bones of a kitchen proudly supporting it underneath.
“Laura’s room could be the loft. All that space would do her good. I can convert part of it into a bathroom. And, yeah, our room,” he added, finally shedding his jacket. Despite the house’s lack of heating, the shelter from the brisk wind had also warmed her, and she, too, shed her coat and gloves, wanting to feel the house’s walls with her bare hands. She loved how excited he had become, as he pulled her toward a spare room where someone had looked like they had been hanging drywall about a month before.
“It’s...beautiful,” she murmured.
“Decent yard too. I’ve double checked the property lines. About two acres of land. I was thinking, might be good for yer gardenin’ you liked to help ‘Ro with back at Xavier’s…” he trailed off.
“Logan…” she murmured, turning toward him once more. He stopped talking, reading the look in her eyes, and something in his face fell.
“Don’t… just… don’t thank me , Marie,” he started, growling as he pulled her closer.
“Why not?” she asked quietly, even as he ran a finger along the line of her jaw, and then swept her hair so it fell down over the back of her shoulder.
“This is all you, kid,” he finally murmured. “And...because I know it’s what Laura needs, I’m willin’ to swallow that goddamn pride you mentioned,” he muttered, before taking a deep breath in, “but I’ll be damned if I don’t make it up to you somehow, someway.”
“Sugar...” she tried to interject, looking up to him once more, surprised, slightly, by the pricking feeling of tears in her eyes. “You owe me nothing.”
At this, he seemed mildly upset, as he stared at her for a moment, and then turned, walking the length of the room in a half-pace, before coming back to where she stood, running a trembling hand through his hair.
“Everything about me is fuckin’ breaking. And it doesn’t suit me, Marie. All I’ve been, all I am….” he trailed off for a moment, and she tried, pleading with her eyes to get him to understand that she wanted whoever he was, here and now. Still though, he continued on. “Hell, kid half the time even the claws don’t wanna work the way they used to. But I need you to know, darlin’, that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna back you up against the wall and shove ‘em into the fucking plaster as I fuck you. To show you-” he stopped abruptly, and it was all Marie could do stand there, breath caught in her throat, heart pounding loudly as his eyes darkened.
“We haven’t… not since….” her voice wavered. She was talking about how they’d sometimes used each others’ gifts for sex. The last time for him, when she’d opened up the line between them, that night in the gym, before everything had fallen apart, but the last time for her had been….
“Years,” he muttered. Marie said nothing for a moment, as her mind wildly tried to understand what he wanted. Or how she could prove to him, simply, that it was enough. Of course, things were different now. The knowledge of what the adamantium was doing to him was at the forefront of her mind, still though, a strong, primal understanding began to overtake her.
“Let me see them,” she said darkly. He turned quickly to look at her once more, before exhaling tiredly, and then she heard the telltale sound of the snikt of his claws breaking through his skin. She watched, helplessly, as drops of his precious blood dotted the floorboards near both their boots, deep crimson marring the freshly-sanded cedar beneath them.
“Sugar,” she whispered evenly, as his eyes bore into her for whole moments before he spoke again.
“I was thinking... of that first time. When you wanted to see ‘em. When you wanted to take the time to know all of me.” Marie only blinked, looking at the claws solemnly again for a moment, before tearing her gaze back up to him.
“I was so stupid back then,” she muttered bitterly. “I...I didn’t realize, didn’t know, that every time they’re out, every time you keep them extended…” she trailed off.
“It hurts like fucking hell? Yeah, kid. How about you do something about it?” he challenged her, and she cocked a wary eyebrow at him. Slowly, with a steady hand, she ran her bare fingers across the dull edges of the metal, and he sharply breathed in, feeling her touch echo through his bones.
“I hate what it’s doing to you,” she hissed, even as she ran her fingers down between the claws, and his eyes were closed. She felt warmth, but also saw scars at the base of his knuckles where they had been extended too many times. Too many times he had to kill, too many times sacrificing himself to save others.
“I was bound to get old sooner or later, kid,” he managed to say through ragged breath and closed eyes, as she continued to slowly run her hands over them. “Wasn’t gonna live forever, even without the metal.” Marie was aware, in that moment, of a strange sensation overcoming her, and she realized there was a want, a need, to somehow share his pain. Slowly she dragged a finger close, almost too close, to the sharpened edge, and he carefully drew back a little.
“Stop, Marie,” he scolded, and she looked up into his eyes as he opened them wide once more.
“What if I want to feel it like you do?” she asked honestly.
“Tough shit,” he muttered through a pained smirk. She let out a breathless laugh, looking up to him once more, and then, with a desperate desire suddenly traveling through her, it all made sense. Everything clicked. She knew what he needed. It was the same reason he’d killed the deer. Why his blood was currently dripping to the floor, the lethal metal and the damage it could inflict mere inches from her body. Why he had brought her here, and why they hadn’t left yet. It was his strength, his power, which was slowly starting to dwindle, but was not yet gone, that he still needed to show her. The house was Logan’s proof. But it wasn’t the Wolverine’s.
“Let him out,” she whispered darkly.
“Why?” he asked quietly, although he seemed to somehow have preemptively intuited this request. They both knew he hadn’t even been close to letting the animal out since that first night he had marked her, and, even then, that night he had only partially given the animal what he wanted.
“This isn’t just about the money,” she murmured. “This is about me and this is about you. What I can give to you….and everything you give to me. This place…” she trailed off, before staring back into his hazel eyes once more, realizing they’d become darker. “That’s not all of it,” she finished, just as she could feel a blackness descend over them both. He let out a sigh, and she could tell he was holding on to the tendrils of his humanity as his eyes asked her one more time if it’s what she wanted. She gave him the slightest of nods, and then she could feel him retreating, she could see it happen. Her breath hitched in her throat as a low, primal growl escaped his lips. The animal as entirely himself was a lover she had not mated with since they had been ripped apart years ago. And she realized he needed her. Needed to prove it to her. To prove...it was enough.
“Show me,” she whispered to him, but he said nothing as he licked the base of her collarbone and up along the side of her neck, before backing her up against the wall, claws still extended.
---
It took him a long while to emerge from the fog. He noticed, first, that a soft thigh was settled between his own legs, the warmth of which he savored, even as the rest of him, his goddamn ass and back were cold as fuck. He snarled, coughed, then found his voice, trying, desperately, to summon the memories of what had happened back to him. But...nothing. It was the first time he’d let the animal at her since they’d been back together, the first time he’d let the animal out at all like that in years , and god, god, he hoped it wasn’t a mistake.
As his vision came into focus, though, he saw a relaxed and very-satiated Marie looking up to him, albeit with some concern. She was naked, and they lay on the dusty floorboards of the room he had hoped one day they would call their own. Still though, he was paranoid as his eyes quickly took inventory. On her skin, two or three red bite marks, lighter than the one he’d given her as his mark, but still angry, and several traces of bruises blooming on the pale of her skin. Fuck.
“Marie,” Logan managed to choke out, looking down once more at his blood-stained, albeit dry, knuckles then shooting a look to Marie once more. She only smirked, running a smooth thumb down the side of his nose and gently kissing his lips before pulling back.
“There you are,” she whispered into his ear, before running a hand down the front of his chest in contentment.
“Are you ok, kid?” he managed to ask, and she shushed him through a quiet smile, before moving, slowly, to stretch languidly in the afternoon sun.
“You know, this place has so much natural light, it warms everything. I bet the heating bill won’t even be that bad,” she murmured, but, still, he watched her reach for her coat that had been strewn across the floor, using it as a pillow and snuggling up once more next to his body, idly stroking his hair. He said nothing for long moments, letting her touch him, before he finally sighed, running a hand over the scruff of his jaw.
“We should get you back, kid. Natural light or no, it’s still below freezing outside and there’s no heat in this place yet ,” he muttered, although, surprisingly, to her hesitancy. There was an echo of a not yet on her lips, as she clutched his hand in hers, bringing it closer to her, nestling it between her breasts, before kissing him roughly. He growled lowly, and then sucked in a breath as she planted a trail of kisses down his scarred abdomen, where he had paid in pain in his failure to save Charles. She lingered on that particular scar for a moment, before she sank lower, and he realized just what she was up to.
“Kid,” he muttered, but then his words failed him as she took him into his mouth hungrily, as if she had never tasted him before, as if such a thing were not possible before this moment and all of it was new. His ragged breath caught in his throat more than once, but he managed not to cough as she harbored him, Logan requiring all of his strength to stay whole. And then he was pulling her thin, naked shoulders back up, and she was settling herself on him and she moved, slowly, up and down, as his hands trailed over her own scars and smooth skin alike.
It was real then, at least to him, as he claimed her once more in the middle of room that was to be theirs. He saw a world, apart from the pain and terror and unknowing fear of the past, where they existed forever here. She had once said time was in the spaces in between, in the nooks and crannies of life, in the moments they did not measure. It’s like a pinwheel, she had once whispered to him, years ago. It existed and it didn’t, it moved and it stood still. It was nothing and everything.
At least, Logan thought, with her, it was. And at least, for now, that was enough.
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Warning: Spoilers for Fray