Work Text:
Logan sighs, a sad pathetic little noise as he flicks mindlessly through the channels of the TV. He takes a swig of his beer, letting the bitter liquid fill his mouth. It burns as it slides down his throat, the ache a familiar one. He brings the drink back down to the denim covering his thigh, taking a long drag of his cigar. He lets the smoke fill his lungs and holds it in for a moment. He tilts his head back, blowing the smoke out toward the ceiling. A hand drifts to his hair covered chest, scratching mindlessly at the patch of skin exposed by the undone collar of his worn flannel. He finally stops searching the channels, settling on an old western. His eyes start to glaze over as his mind is filled with thoughts of you.
You’d left Logan alone for the day in favor of your office job. He knew you had a job to do, bills to pay, etc. You couldn’t stay at home with him all day, no matter how much he yearned for you to be with him right now. He misses the feeling of your smaller body tucked against his side. He misses your warmth, your softness. He misses the sweet scent of your perfume– rich vanilla and sugar.
Logan’s attention immediately shifts from his thoughts to you as you come in through the front door, keys jangling. He shifts where he sits on the couch, sitting up a little straighter. He clears his throat and sets his beer down on the coffee table in front of him. “Good day at the office, sweetheart?”
“It was!” you chirp, hanging your keys by the door. “Look at what I got!” You hold up a gallon of ice cream with enthusiasm with one hand. You have a bright smile on your face, showing your teeth and making your nose scrunch. Your purse rests in your other hand, hanging idly by your side.
Something tugs at Logan’s heart as he takes in your excitement. He smiles back at you instinctively. It’s a genuine smile, one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Whatcha got, bub?”
“Ice cream!” You slide out of your flats before making your way to the kitchen. You look expectantly back over your shoulder for Logan to follow you. He’s already pushing himself up off the couch to join you as you look at him. He crosses the room in a few long strides, easily taking the ice cream out of your hand. His big rough hand brushes against your own as he takes it from you, calluses scratching against your softer skin with the movement.
“Where’d ya get that?” Logan rumbles as he follows you to the kitchen. He looks down at you through his lashes, a distinct fondness glimmering in his eyes as he takes you in. He always found you beautiful, but there’s something about you in your little office get up that he found particularly attractive. Maybe it was the effort that you put into your look on your days that you went into the office.
Your hair was pulled back neatly, a few strands of hair pulled out deliberately to frame your face. You wore a short tight dress. Your dress isn’t too short, or too tight, seeing as it was for the office. But still, it hugged your frame and accentuated those curves of yours that he loved so much. And, of course, the dress was pink, being your favorite color. It was the same shade as your purse and lipstick, actually. Logan thought it was cute, the way you managed to match everything. A pretty pair of gold earrings that Logan had gifted you for your anniversary dangle on either side of your head. Paired with your earrings is a matching golden necklace, whose sparkly pendant rested in the curve of your breasts.
“I helped Mary with her event today. It was an ice cream social for college interns,” you explain as you open the freezer for Logan. You step aside, making room for him. He leans down to put the frozen treat in the freezer.
Logan arches a dark brow at you, looking up at you over his shoulder. “A social, huh?” He knows how much you hate talking to new people. You’ve always been more introverted. Of course, once you got to know someone, you opened up more. But a social? That doesn’t sound like an event you would particularly enjoy.
“I sat in the corner and worked on my laptop.” Your eyes shamelessly glue themselves to his ass once he turns back to the freezer. Logan had a penchant for wearing tight jeans. He knows he looks good and he knows that you like it. He likes that you like it. You think to yourself that you’re pretty damn lucky to have ended up with a man as handsome as him.
Logan snorted at your response. “Sounds like you, bub.” He stands back up to his full height and swings the freezer door closed. “What did you work on?”
You appreciate his question, though you doubt Logan would really understand what exactly it was that you did. He isn’t the most… technologically inclined man in the world. You, on the other hand, work as a data analyst. Your job mostly consists of tinkering with Excel spreadsheets, collecting and interpreting data, and whatever else your team asked of you. You’d tried before to talk to him about your work but it usually ended with Logan’s eyes glazing over and a couple of half-hearted grunts to show that he was still listening.
You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek. His skin is rough against your lips, whiskers brushing against your face. He smells like he always does– cigar smoke, whiskey and certain musk that is undeniably Logan. Your lipstick stains his cheek, Logan knows it without seeing it, but he can’t find it in himself to be upset with you over it. “Not much. Pretty boring stuff.”
Logan slings a thick arm around your shoulder, tugging you into his chest. “Yeah?” he prompts, voice softer now that you’re a little closer. His shoulders lower, body relaxing instinctively. Something about your presence seems to soothe him.
“Yeah.” You lean a little harder into him, getting more comfortable within his embrace. You rest your head against one of his pecs. His heart beats, strong and steady beneath your ear. His flannel is soft against your cheek.
His big hand runs up and down the side of your arm. His callouses scratch against your softer skin with the movement. Logan rests his chin on top of your head, his broad frame curling almost protectively around yours. “Least it’s done now.”
You nod in agreement. “What about you? What did you do today?”
Logan’s eyes flicker away from yours. He doesn’t want to tell you what he did today. In all honesty, he waited beside the door for you like a damn dog waiting for its owner to get back home. But he can’t tell you that; can’t let you know how wrapped around your little finger he really is. He’s the Wolverine, for fuck’s sake. The big, grumpy, growly, brooding Wolverine.
So, Logan clears his throat before continuing and tries to keep up his cool, macho facade. “Not much, darlin’. Watched some TV, had a few beers.”
You press a kiss to his throat, right beside his bobbing Adam’s apple. “Sounds like a good day to me, honey.” You savor the feeling of Logan surrounding you. As much as you are his safe space, he is yours. You feel grounded and secure in his arms. You know nothing can hurt you, not as long as you’re with him.