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Of course Peter thought the first time was a fluke. Why would Peter think that a skilled warrior who’s been around for who knows how long would willingly set himself up to get mowed down by machinegun fire from regular criminals? But, considering how Logan doing that had helped Spider-Woman get close enough to get a clear shot at the guy with the gun, maybe he really would do it on purpose.
When it kept happening, Peter thought Logan was just stupid. It was a logical assumption, considering how the man seemed to communicate completely in grunts, smirks and unfunny one-liners. It was perfectly reasonable to think Logan was just too thick to know you were not supposed to run (it was more of a roaring leap, really) into the path of incoming enemy fire. Especially since every other time there had been no set-up for another teammate to get close under his cover.
Peter ended up changing his mind about that when he and Logan had been active members of Cap’s new Avengers team for a while longer. That was because Peter realized that Logan was actually really skilled in combat. There was no needless waving around when sparring one on one with his teammates; Logan knew how to both block and avoid attacks and blows.
The guy was really silent too. It was hard to believe that Logan weighed more than Steve’s motorcycle with how he could sneak up on people almost as well as any ninja. Peter was convinced Daredevil would still have him beat, though.
Maybe ‘the wolverine’ just got out during some fights, the real scraps with adrenaline surging. Peter also sometimes felt like he was more spider than man during the more stressful times of his hero career. And, to be honest, Logan’s life often seemed to be a gauntlet of stressors.
When the self-jeopardizing behaviour continued, Peter finally spoke up.
"You fight pretty recklessly."
"Way to point out the obvious, Webhead." The look on Logan’s face warned against saying anything more.
Peter was never very good with following cues or warnings, preferring to ignore them entirely since he tended to fumble them when he tried to keep up.
"It’s just, I’ve heard some things and-"
"I don’t have a death wish," Logan cut in, icy blue eyes holding no tolerance for arguments, or anything else. "Every injury I get, I can heal from."
"Well, then," Peter muttered as he skittered backwards up a wall just in case Logan was even more annoyed than he appeared. "I guess that settles that then."
Somewhere along the line Peter came to the conclusion that Logan had, during his ridiculously long lifespan, developed a habit. And, like most habits men like Logan had, it was both bad for his personal health and made life inconvenient for everyone around him.
Instead of relying on his teammates for back-up, Logan always insisted on attacking an enemy himself. If there was a new threat they didn’t know much about, Logan would storm in with a roar and get that first blow that could have broken many of his teammates to pieces but he could heal from. If there was a large group of enemies, Logan would lead the charge, drawing attention and fire away from more vulnerable team members.
It was understandable behaviour for a superhero. But it was very vexing inside a superhero team, where most members could deal with super strength and gunfire just fine. It was all part of the day’s work.
So, really, Peter’s only reaction while he waited for Logan to grow his face back after it had been burned away by Space Alien of the Week mostly consisted of exasperation at the other man’s stubbornness.
"I could be helping Luke beat up this chump," Peter muttered to himself grumpily. "I’ve had a rough week; it would have done me good."
Logan’s only response was an unintelligible gargle, the older man’s tongue not having finished forming again yet.
"Is this what my responsibility shtick does? It automatically volunteers me to look after downed team members?"
Logan’s gargles started to sound more offended.
"True, you probably could kill the guy even in this condition." Peter spread his hands in apology to the other man. "But, honestly, in this condition you’re too likely to kill the guy instead of just taking him in.”
Logan shrugged, giving up on attempting verbal communication for now.
"I think I prefer you without your tongue," Peter said cheerily. "You’re so much more agreeable like this." He then proceeded to dodge a fist directed in his direction, thanks to a warning from his Spider Sense.
It really seemed that only Logan’s speech was impaired at the time with everything else working properly. Maybe if he asked Doctor Strange nicely, they could keep him like this for a while.
There finally came a time when Peter decided that enough was enough and that it was time for an intervention.
“I don’t like it when you jump in front of bullets.” It wasn’t a delicate opening line, but, really, anyone expecting delicate from Peter Parker would be disappointed every time.
Logan snorted derisively. “What, would you have preferred I let them pump you full of lead?” The older man jabbed a finger at Peter’s chest. “Last time I checked, you’re not invulnerable or have super speed.”
“I can dodge bullets just fine,” Peter grumbled, as he rubbed the spot that had just gotten bruised by a finger that was technically metal. ‘Most of the time, anyway.’
Logan’s expression was decisively unimpressed. “The point is, I can take it.” And with that the man walked off.
Peter followed right in the other man’s heels as he snapped: “Hey! I’m not done yelling at you!”
“Tough!” Logan snapped back before slamming the door to his bedroom closed behind him.
“Tough?” Peter huffed as he glared at the closed door, considering the benefits of simply breaking the lock. The brunet turned around when he came to the conclusion that the looks he’d be getting from his teammates for fighting with Logan (again) probably wouldn’t be worth it. ‘Your head is tough!’ Now that was a weak line. Good thing he didn’t say it out loud.
There was a pained grunt beyond the door and Peter pursed his lips together in disapproval. Great, now the idiot was attempting self-applied first aid. The brunet turned around and grabbed the door handle, fully intent on finally drilling some consideration for his teammates into the guy’s head. Even though the guy had been on various teams for years without learning anything. Easy.
Only, when Peter forced the door open and entered the room, his rant stuttered to a halt before it even began when he saw Logan digging a claw into his side.
“What the hell?” Peter shrieked and Logan’s hand (and claw) twisted and something small flew across the room, hitting the closet door with a metallic tack before dropping onto the floor. Peter already knew what it was and felt renewed anger rise.
“You’re actually using your claws to dig bullets out of your hide?” Peter waved his arms, trying to emphasise how messed up that was. “Are you crazy?”
“It’s not like the wounds will get infected before they seal up even if I make a mess,” Logan murmured even as blood trickled between the fingers of the hand the mutant had pressed to his wound, almost like being self-conscious enough to hide the injury even as he disregarded the fact that there was only a small towel on his lap keeping him from being entirely naked.
“Right, and that’s not gross or weird or creepy at all,” Peter snarked.
Logan levelled an unamused stare at Peter’s face. “Did you have something to tell me, Parker?”
Peter could hardly remember the last time Logan had called him ‘Parker’. Usually the older man used some type of nickname, either derogatory or somewhat affectionate. Apparently Wolvie got snappier than normal when his first aid practises were questioned.
"There’s a fully equipped first aid kit in all of the bathrooms, Bucky Cap said so on our first day here. Why can’t you…" Peter sighed, deciding that it was better if he gave in for now. "Just try not to bleed all over too much. It’s gross and rude."
"Discretion is the better part of valor, Webhead." Logan’s eyes narrowed threateningly. "I don’t think a guy who comes in my space to lecture me about being more cautious has any room to talk." Right, Peter really was setting him up to get snikted, wasn’t he?
Peter decided that it was better he tried to simply not think about Logan’s lack of self preservation. It would be much easier for all involved. Mostly himself.
Peter had been running into ninjas a lot more often than usual. Specifically, he had been running into more ninjas ever since he joined the Avengers. It might have had something to do with a certain ninja-magnet being on the same team as well.
Peter did wonder what it was that Logan had done to incite such personal displeasure from the Hand ninjas. Matt was on arch nemesis -basis with the Hand too and he didn’t end up kidnapped for impromptu torture sessions. At least, as far as Peter knew Daredevil didn’t have to deal with that.
Even more than how the criminal mind worked, Peter wondered why the other Avengers thought Peter should be in charge of keeping the newly-liberated-but-still-gravely-injured Wolverine safe while the rest of the team stormed the abandoned villain lair the Hand had procured as a temporary base of operations.
Some people say anything can kill you if you get too much of it. It looked like the Hand had been testing that theory; every uncovered batch of skin on Logan had puncture wounds on it where he’d been repeatedly jabbed with poisoned blades. There were even dark smudges of liquid on the tattered remains of Logan’s costume. The stains were different shades but mostly they all had a tone of Deadly Toxin to them.
The wounds weren’t healing; maybe they had finally found a point where Logan’s healing factor simply quit. Peter tried not to think about that as he strained his Spider Sense to make sure there were no threats present while he supported Logan’s unconscious body against his own, the other’s back leaned against his chest while he kept track of the older man’s life signs.
Seriously, what was the Hand even doing in New York this time around? Granted, New York was full of abandoned villain lairs they could take over but what kind of end game plan brought them there? Surely they didn’t come all this way just to try to do in Wolverine for the umpteenth time. Then again, considering how annoying Logan could be and how serious ninjas could be…
"I hate ninjas,” Peter said with feeling.
"Noted," came the soft, low growl from the body propped up against his.
"Logan?" Peter could hardly believe the other was cognizant again, and so soon.
Logan seemed to be aware of his own condition and how it looked outward, because the older man’s voice actually sounded reassuring to Peter’s ears when he spoke: “Alive and well, or, I’ll be well in a bit longer.”
"Oh, I’m…" Peter swallowed, his throat feeling weirdly tight. "I’m glad." And he was. His relief that Logan was alright was palpable, which was funny, considering how badly they tended to get along even on their best days.
And that was when Peter had an epiphany. All the little nuances in his relationship with Logan suddenly came into sharp focus, and it all made sense. Terrible, horrible sense.
"Oh no," Peter breathed out. "We’re the odd couple."
Almost being poisoned to death didn’t help Logan’s lack of patience any, which was apparent in the way the older man snapped: “What are you going on about now?”
"The odd couple in every single buddy cop show. We’ve become it. And I don’t even like buddy cop shows!”
There was a ragged sigh from the other man and a hand petted Peter’s hand in a gesture that could have been comfort or condescension. “I promise you, Webs, that we’re not a buddy cop show.”
"Really?"
"Cross my heart and hope not to die."
From their positions Peter couldn’t see Logan’s face, but he could guess the man was smirking. Peter released a chuckle and leaned his forehead against the top of Logan’s head.
His heart was finally stopping its racing. The joking was becoming more natural instead of egged on by his fear for the other. Logan was going to live. It was alright.
The next time Logan put himself in jeopardy fighting against a demon crossed over from one of the various netherworlds, Peter’s reaction was so instantaneous it was more like a reflex as he swooped in on a webline and grabbed the idiot to whisk him to safety. Naturally Logan complained and grumbled about it, but Peter knew that deep down inside he was grateful.
Logan had gotten shot full of bullets again. That happened with a high frequency, mostly because Logan didn’t care if someone pointed a gun at him, or even pulled the trigger on him. Granted, bullets were probably the least threatening thing Logan faced as an Avenger, but, as the man often complained (during breakfast even, the inconsiderate slob), bullets were a huge annoyance when they got stuck under your skin because your wounds healed before you could remove them.
It was really just a matter of not having to listen to Logan’s grumblings when he was trying to eat when Peter would occasionally help Logan patch up after a mission went south, getting a pair of tweezers from the well-stocked first aid kit in Logan’s bedroom and sitting down with the man to pull bullets out of his wounds one by one. It said a lot about Logan’s appreciation for the act when he didn’t even complain (overly much) when Peter would inevitably start babbling about something nonsensical at random intervals.
Peter did it to spare his own appetite, or even a bit because he was a good teammate. It had nothing to do with Logan being the Iron Fist to his Luke Cage, the other half of their odd couple. Because if it was that, then Peter’s life had become part buddy cop show, which would have been a fate worse than death.
Because buddy cop shows sucked.