Work Text:
Hank McCoy was the happiest he'd ever been, happier than he'd ever dreamed possible in his darkest, loneliest days.
He'd always been an oddball, an outcast, a freak, never comfortable with the body he'd been born with on too many levels.
So he'd buried himself in books. Books never let him down, looked at him strangely, or wished he could be something he wasn't. He'd graduated Harvard at fifteen, earned an MD and a PhD in biomedical engineering by twenty, and then he'd been lost, the relative safety of academia behind him.
He'd been about to accept a research position at Stark Industries when another, more unusual job offer had come in. A young (and filthy-rich) woman, Raven Xavier, had approached him, asking him to become her brother's personal physician. She promised most of his time would be free for research, with unlimited funding and equipment, so long as he spent a comparatively small fraction of that time looking for ways to help her brother. And he would wholly own anything he developed.
It had been an easy decision, even before he'd met Charles and fallen under his spell, like everyone did.
What he hadn't known seven years ago was that that job would make him part of a nascent community of fellow mutants, all drawn in by Irene, Raven's precognitive wife. A community that, three years ago, had expanded to include an escapee from a military research program and the three kids he'd taken with him. Logan, a weary former soldier nearly two centuries old, who healed any injury in minutes, and whose skeleton had been sheathed in adamantium. Laura, designed in vitro to be like Logan, near-immortal, with claws like her dad and a similarly enhanced skeleton. Jimmy, a boy nearly as quiet as Hank himself, who generated a field that damped other mutants' powers. And Jade, formerly Jason, a telepathic illusionist and the sweetest girl, blossoming now that she was allowed to embrace her true self.
Hank had fallen hard for both Logan and the kids. And for a wonder, Logan loved him back. Hank still wasn't sure sometimes he deserved that love, and Logan understood that, was infinitely patient and gentle with him when he got insecure. Despite his gruff exterior, the man was a teddy bear.
And he was so good with the kids, understanding what they'd been through, having been an experimental test subject himself. He understood when they cried or shook or woke screaming in the night. And he'd hold them if that was what they needed, or talk to them, words of gentle reassurance that came easy now, or listen, or just sit with them.
His nickname was Wolverine, and it fit. He was fierce and angry on the outside, and solitary by nature, but wolverines were also doting parents.
Hank hadn't believed at first that Logan could be interested in him, but Logan had pursued him with quiet determination, never pushing, but making his intent known, and eventually Hank had believed enough to say yes, then to have the awkward conversation about his being trans.
To his surprise, Logan had smiled softly and admitted, "Kinda suspected. Your smell is just a little different."
The scientist in him had been intrigued, but he swiftly quelched any thought of trying to quantify Logan's enhanced perception. Logan had suffered just as much as the children had at the hands of scientists, and Hank wasn't going to do anything that might add to Logan's nightmares.
Their little family was happier than Hank could have ever dreamed, and the close-knit community they were building was growing steadily. Their latest addition, Erik, had fit in well, and miracle of miracles, he was even drawing Charles out of his shell.
"Papa Hank?"
Jade's soft voice drew Hank out of his reverie. "What do you need, sweetheart?" But even as he asked, he saw the hairbrush in her hand and Logan's untidy attempt at a braid. His husband was getting better with practice, but not near quickly enough for Jade.
"Come here, sweetie," he said as he held out his hand for the brush.
She dropped it in his hand and turned around.
He slid the band from the end of her pigtail and set it on his leg, then he unwove her hair and finger-combed it a little before sliding the brush through it until it was smooth and shining.
He set the brush aside and divided her hair carefully into thirds. He knew her hair was important to her, a symbol of the identity her birth father had denied her. For the first year after she'd escaped with Logan and Jimmy and Laura, she'd projected an illusion of long hair. Now she didn't need to.
Hank plaited her hair and secured the ends with the elastic band. "Do you want a ribbon?"
"Yeah." She pulled a bright red ribbon from a dress pocket and held it up.
Hank took it and secured it to her braid. "There you go, sweetie."
Jade beamed as she turned to face him. "Thank you, papa," she said then kissed him, a quick peck on the cheek.
Hank knew he was grinning like a fool as he reached up to touch the spot she'd kissed. "You're welcome, sweetie."