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You’d always been the odd one out.
A little different than kids around you.
Even after you discovered your abilities and your parents sent you off to Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters, you were still odd.
A late bloomer, you were years older than your classmates. Your powers didn’t show until you were about 15, and your family did their best to keep them a secret and protect you as best they could. After about a year, Xavier showed up on your doorstep and promised he would take good care of you. That he would help you harness and control the power within you. So, at 16, you joined the academy, starting your mutant-schooling at the beginner level.
Because of this, you were still odd.
In a school full of kids who were the very definition of the word. Yet somehow you were still considered weird and a freak here. It was incredibly disheartening…you had no good friends that you could confide in.
One or two acquaintances, sure, but no one you could pour your heart out to.
Or at least, no classmates you could pour your heart out to.
But then Wolverine wasn’t a classmate.
And technically speaking, he isn’t a professor either.
Sure, he’s one of The X-men that follows Professor X into the fray, and several years your senior, but as far as schooling goes he isn’t your teacher.
Just an angry old dude who lives in the mansion too. That’s what your peers thought, at least.
But for you? He was a friend.
Someone just as much of the odd one out as you, someone who didn’t really belong anywhere but made home where he could.
At first, he seemed to hate you as much as he hated everyone else. Just a figure that stuck to the shadows and didn’t bother to return your small smiles when accidental eye contact was made.
After a while, he seemed to pick up on your energy when you were around your classmates.
How closed off and scared you were - something he considered to be a red flag.
He’d confronted you about it, all snarling, teeth and claws bared as he assessed you as a threat to the school.
Sure, he wasn’t a professor or a student. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t protective as hell when it mattered.
You didn’t even have to defend yourself when all was said and done. ‘No real threat would cower like that.’ He chuckled, sheathing his claws and offering you a hand to help you up from where you’d screeched and landed squarely on your ass. You huffed at him, crossing your arms and getting up yourself before disappearing.
After that, Wolverine - Logan - became a more permanent fixture in your life.
He would plop down next to you when you’d wandered off to have lunch alone, tearing into his own food as you glowered at him. Other times, he would see you in the library alone and sit across from you despite your protests.
He didn’t say much in these instances, just offered a comforting presence in moments of silence. In instances where he would be off on missions, you’d find yourself missing his presence and warmth. You would never tell him, but you were starting to enjoy his company.
Of course, you wouldn’t have to tell him. You’re sure he picks up on the way your heartbeat picks up when he’s around, the way your breathing turns shallow.
Again, Logan technically isn’t a professor.
So that makes this little crush ok…right?
—
Upon your graduation, Scott asks you to come to Professor Xavier’s office. Intrigued and a little scared, you oblige and follow behind the older man.
When you enter the headmaster’s office, Xavier smiles at you.
“Y/N,” he greets, wheeling ever closer to you. “Congratulations. You’re finally finished.”
“I know,” you laugh, shaking the hand he extended. He clasps both hands around yours, making it impossible to pull away. You cock an eyebrow but continue. “Never thought I’d make it past Junior year.” He chuckles at that and nods thoughtfully.
“Yes, it did prove to be a difficult time for you, wasn’t it?” It’s not so much a question, but then it doesn’t have to be. Professor X knew your every thought. He knew your abilities better than you did, knew how out of place you felt having just graduated in your 20′s, and he knew of your little crush on Wolverine. “As difficult as it was, Y/N, you proved yourself to be resilient and cool-headed. The very characteristics we look for in our X-men.”
You bite back a snort, thinking of how hot-headed Wolverine is.
“Thank you, professor.”
“Y/N, we’d like to invite you to join the team. To become an X-men.”
“No!” All heads present swivel to the man in the doorway - the man who looks like he’s about to kill The Professor for even offering something like this to a kid like you.
“Logan,” The Professor says, calm and slow, hands squeezing yours before dropping them and approaching his friend. “Do you have an objection to this?”
Logan’s eyes flash with anger and betrayl, looking to you with something swirling before looking back to Xavier.
“You know I do.” He looks like he’s going to cry, but then that would be insane. This was Wolverine. Maybe it would be more accurate to say he looked like he was about to kill someone. “She isn’t ready for something like this.”
Hurt blossoms in your chest, turning to anger and before you can stop yourself, you storm out of the room - but not before accepting The Professor’s offer all while glaring back into Logan’s eyes. A beat passes after your retreat where the two men hover in silence before Xavier speaks again.
“She isn’t?” He questions, knowing eyes fixing on his old friend. “Or youaren’t?”
—
“God damn it, Logan! I had it under control!” You snarl, tossing your jacket on your bed. After joining the team, you were relocated out of the student wing - thank god - and into the wing where the rest of the team resided. You’d thought for sure after getting a door slammed in his face, Logan would give up on his tirade.
You were wrong.
“Not from where I was standin, princess.” He huffs, fists clenched and muscles rippling as he pushes through your doorway. You do your best not to stare. “Blob would’ve eaten you alive. Literally.” You laugh, humourless and dry.
“Yeah, well maybe I had something up my sleeve.” The gasp in your side throbs and you wince, ass meeting the bed as your legs give out. For a moment, Logan’s eyes flash with concern, but upon seeing the stubborn look still on your face, he knows you’re more than ok. So he returns to laying into you.
“Unlikely.” Despite his tone, he drops to his knees beside you, fingers gently batting yours away to inspect your wound. His eyes narrow at the gnarly gash, feet carrying him across the room to your first aid kit. Your anger hasn’t ebbed, however.
“Is it so hard to believe that I can handle myself? That I know what I’m doing?” He flinches at the accusation in your voice, shaking his head as he pushes at your shirt to dress the cut.
“No, that isn’t-”
“Then what is it, Logan?!” In a flash, the medicine and binding are abandoned, large palms on your cheeks, forcing you to look into his tear-streaked eyes.
“I thought you were dead!” He roars, a single tear spilling over. Before you can address it, he wipes at his face quickly, all hard lines and anger. “I thought that fat fuck had killed you, and it was all I could do not to rip him limb from fucking limb!” His chest heaves, his claws catching the light as they extend of their own volition.
“Logan,” You soothe, doing your best to keep your voice even. He would never hurt you, you know that. But at this moment, he’s a little frightening. Like that day he’d accosted you in the hall thinking you were part of The Brotherhood. “Logan, it’s ok. I’m ok. No harm done.”
He cocks an eyebrow, thick finger poking the cut on your side and you winch with a hiss.
“Ok, fine. Maybe…a little harm was done.”
“I thought I’d lost you, damn it.” His voice is low, broken and he can’t look you in the eye. It was the most emotion you’d seen from the mostly stoic man, beyond small smiles and laughter. A new side that made your heart hammer in your chest.
“I’m right here.” You promise, voice equally low as you pull him to sit next to you on the bed. After a few beats, his words seem to finally process and a blush burns high in your cheeks. “Um, Logan, you’ve almost lost teammates before…what makes this any different?”
Shocked eyes meet yours and after a moment he snorts, the chuckle accompanied by rolled eyes.
“C’mon kid, I know you were held back, but you’re not that stupid.” He meets your own narrowed eyes with his own full of mirth.
“I want to hear you say it.” You demand, hand in his squeezing on his fingers. He looks to the adjoined digits, smoothing his calloused palm over the smooth skin of your own. His thumb draws patterns on the back of your hand, thoughts swirling in his head as he wonders what to say before he looks back to you.
After a few moments of silence, he sighs.
“You mean a lot to me, kid. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” You heart hammers loudly, eyes falling to the lips that are just a lunge away from your own.
“Really?” You ask, begging whatever god is out there that he would just lean in and kiss you already. “I thought I was just some weird kid?”
“I mean, yes. You’re a little weirdo.” He laughs, full belly laugh when you smack his shoulder but then he’s catching your fists and pulling you so close you land in his lap. A smirk crosses his lips and before you know it, you’re kissing and good god this has been such a long time coming.
His lips are so much softer than you expected, sliding across your skin with a masterful glide, scruff scraping your chin and long fingers digging into your hips. Before you can stop yourself, you weave your fingers in his perfectly coiffed hair, your chest buzzing with the satisfaction of tearing a hole in his facade.
When he pulls away, it takes everything you have not to chase his lips down. It takes even more to open your eyes again, and when you do he’s smiling at you like some lovesick idiot.
You’re sure you’re looking at him in the exact same way. Him, your Logan with kiss-swollen lips and ruffled hair. A vision you could definitely get used to.
“But you’re my weirdo.”