Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Well that was just peachy. So damn fuckin fine that he could have slapped it on its ass and sent it on its way.
'Don't smoke in the school Logan,' he mimicked Storm's voice. It was a little higher and squeakier than should have technically been described as accurate. But it made him feel better. He pulled a face. 'It's bad for the children, Logan,' batting his eyelids in a disturbing attempt at femininity. 'Surely you understand that, Logan.'
He scowled and slumped his elbows on the table, resting his head in his hands.
Fuckin school.
Fuckin *X-men*.
Didn't they know that this was a damn expensive cigar? It deserved respect not dismissal.
That was the problem around here. Not enough damn class.
Now Hank, he could mash a guy up good. Cyke? Yeah he could fry a few with his laser beams, although he looked like Superman doing it. He made a mental note to find him some red panties to wear on the outside of his X-suit. Preferably lacy. And Iceman, well he could...fuck it, what could he do? Give them a nasty cold? He shrugged. Who gave a damn anyway. The point was they had no class. None of them could do it with style.
He popped the claws and gave them an admiring glance. Now, *he* had style.
Seriously, he liked to be modest, but if he wanted Jeanie, he could click his fingers like so, and... Fuck! Not a good thing to do with claws out. He glanced around to make sure no one had caught that.
Good. Manly reputation still in tact.
Anyway, the skanky whore was hot for him, flickin her damn red hair his way every time he walked past. Which was quite often. So she had a nice ass. So sue him. Talk to the claws Bub, 'cause the Wolvie did not want to know.
The ass was as far as it went though. Not his type. He liked his girls with chocolate eyes and skin to die for. Literally.
Talking of which...
'Hey Logan,' she smiled warmly, pausing to lean against the door frame. 'Whacha doing in here?'
He raised an eyebrow. 'I'm saving the world.' One cigar at a time, he added silently.
'Really?' Her eyes crinkled at the corners. 'Because you look an awful lot like you're sulking.' She was teasing him dammit. She was lucky she was so damn cute. Else he'd have to put her over his knee and spank her. And damn, like that wouldn't be fun.
'Come here, darlin.'
She laughed. 'Can't, sorry sugah. I'm on my way to a lecture. Catch you later though.' She blew him a kiss before leaving him alone.
All alone.
Just him and the cigar.
And fuck it, he was not gonna let some jumped up little weather girl in a gimp suit tell him what not to do. He was the Wolverine! What was the worse she could do anyway? Make it rain on him? Strike him with lightning? Hell, he could survive that, it would just spike up his hair a little more.
He retracted the claws slowly, watching as the skin around his knuckles closed, before reaching into the pocket of his tight jeans. He pulled out the David Hasselhoff lighter he'd confiscated from that Pyro kid, shuddering as his fingers closed round bits of the Hoff they should never have to touch.
Next time, he vowed, he would damn well steal from someone with a bit of taste. His entire bad-ass reputation was on the line if anyone discovered it on his person. He'd have to destroy it. Hell the thing was so creepy it probably needed an exorcism first, before a good burning, and a drowning at midnight at the bottom of the damn lake.
He screwed up his nose at it.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Needs must and all that shit.
He put the cigar to his lips, sparked the end, and inhaled the warm bitter smoke into his mouth. Then his body relaxed in a contented sigh.
Fuck, that was better. Just what he...
The sprinkler system above his head whirred to life. Red lights flashed above the door and a piercingly loud beep began to repetitively assault his ears. Scooter's voice came over the tannoy. 'Would all mutants please exit the building. Would all mutants please exit the building.'
Shit.
This was not turning out to be a good day.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This was in response to Gersemi's challenge to write a fic inspired by a picture of Logan, sitting under a no-smoking sign with a cigar out in front of him, looking miserable, poor baby. And I appear to have mislaid the ability to write a coherent plot – so you get mindless foofy drabble instead. Ah well. Thought I might as well post it anyway *g*