"My Dad, Wolverine"
Summary: Wolverine must step into a role he has never had to fill before: fatherhood.
Author's Note:Takes place a couple of weeks after the episode "X-23".
Warning:This story will contain spanking of a minor.
Disclaimer: Timberwolf is my own creation, but all the others belong to Marvel.
Chapter I. X-23 Returns
"Cyclops, keep your guard up!" Wolverine bellowed. "Ice-Man, keep your head down!"
He shook his head, as he watched the teenagers he was training bungle their way through an advanced obstacle course.
True, they had never had a training course this difficult before, and this was their first time doing it, but after facing Apocalypse this should have been a piece of cake.
Unfortunately, all the kids had been messing up today for some reason; even the older more experienced ones.
"Perhaps, Logan," Professor Charles Xavier suggested from behind him, "it is time to call it a day."
Wolverine growled. "They're never gonna learn nothin' that way," he muttered, stubbornly.
"Yes, but I believe it was you who told me that sometimes it's best to let kids be kids," Xavier said, smirking.
Wolverine scowled at that.
He should have known those words were going to come back to bite him in the butt.
"Fine," he grumbled, sourly. "That's it for today! Everybody hit the showers!"
All the kids let out unanimous shouts of joy and relief.
"But," he warned them, forestalling their celebration, "we're gonna be doin' this again in a few days and I'd better see some improvement…or else."
That wiped the smiles from their faces.
Charles chuckled, shaking his head.
"Why do you do that?" he asked him, curiously.
"I gotta have some fun, too," Wolverine said, pulling his mask back and off his head.
"Excuse me, Professor," Ororo Monroe, a.k.a. Storm, walked into the training room, "but you have a visitor, Logan."
Wolverine raised an eyebrow. "I got a what?" he asked, skeptically. "Who'd want to see me?"
"Me," a voice behind Storm spoke up.
The white-haired weather witch moved out of the way to reveal a girl about fourteen years old standing there.
"X-23," Wolverine said, recognizing the girl to be his 'clone' that had been created by evil organization Hydra.
She looked a bit different than she had couple of weeks before.
She was no longer wearing the Hydra uniform, just regular blue jeans and a black t-shirt.
The combat boots were the same though, he noted.
Her long dark brown hair was pulled into a pony-tail to keep it out of her eyes—eyes that still looked far too old to belong to a fourteen old child.
"Not anymore," she told him, seriously. "You can just call me 'Laura' now."
He nodded, but then frowned. "I thought I told you to get as far away as you could?"
The barest hint of a smirk crossed her lips.
"Like you said, I'm a kid," she told him, shrugging. "Kids aren't supposed to do as their told."
Wolverine snorted at that. "So, why are you here?" he asked, curiously.
"Like you said," she told him, "you're the closest thing to family I have. I, uh, want to live here with you."
Wolverine had to admit he was more than a little surprised by this.
He was—more or less—the cause of every bad thing that had been done to this child, so why would she want to be anywhere near him?
Walking up to her, he reached out and touched her shoulder. "Why's that?"
"Like you said," she told him a third time, staring into his eyes, "you're the one person who understands me. I want to know what its like to be a regular kid…and to have a family."
Wolverine swallowed, hard. "I, uh, ain't exactly the lovey-dovey type," he reminded her.
"That doesn't matter," she told him. "You won't let anything happen to me."
Wolverine was pleased by her trust in him.
"Thanks, I guess," he told her, smiling. "As for you stayin' here…it's all right by me, but…?"
He turned to look questioningly at the professor.
"It's quite all right by me as well, Logan," Charles said, smiling. "Laura is more than welcome here with us."
The girl nodded. "Thank you," she said, quietly.
"C'mon," Wolverine told her, "let's go find you a room. Do you got any stuff?"
"No," Laura answered, "just these." She gestured to the clothes she was wearing.
"Where'd you get those?" he asked, curiously.
"Here and there," she said, glancing down at the floor.
"You steal 'em?" Wolverine asked, raising an eyebrow.
She shrugged. "It wasn't like they'd be missed."
Wolverine stopped her and lifted her chin so that she was looking him in the eye.
"Maybe so," he said, "but stealin' is wrong, kid, and as long as you live here you ain't gonna steal nothin' else. Understand?"
His tone of voice brooked no argument or disobedience.
It was a tone all the kids at the Institute knew all too well.
She stared up at him, anger burning in her eyes.
He recognized it for what it was.
A strong will determined not to be controlled anymore—which he could relate to—however, she was still just a kid.
He leaned forward, getting into her personal space.
"I said," he growled, low and dangerous, "do you understand?"
She glanced down at the floor once again. "Yes," she answered, simply. "Sir."
He nodded. "Good," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Now, c'mon."
"Will I be supplied gear and equipment, then?" she asked him, curiously.
"A training uniform," he told her, seriously, "but any other stuff you'll buy yourself."
"With what?" she asked, snorting. "My good looks?"
He smirked at that.
"See?" he told her, teasing. "You're starting to sound like a regular kid already."
Again, just that barest hint of a smirk crossed her face.
"I'm serious though," she told him. "I don't have any money."
"You'll get an allowance," he told her, "just like the rest of the kids do."
Of course, he didn't tell her that that allowance came from the kids' parents' pockets, out of the tuition they paid to house and feed the children.
In her case, it would come from him.
She needn't know that, however.
"What's an allowance?" she asked, curiously.
"It's an amount of money you get each week," he told her, "if you behave yourself, keep your grades up, and complete your chores."
"I'll be going to school?" she asked him, surprised. "I've never been to a real school before."
"Don't worry," he told her, smirking, "you'll blend right in."
"I know I can," she said, quietly. "They taught me how to do that."
"Humph," Wolverine grunted, sourly. "Here you go."
They had made it upstairs to the bedrooms and he opened one of the unused ones for her.
"This is nice," Laura said, going and sitting on the bed.
"You can fix it up any way you like," he told her. "I'm sure Jean and the other girls can give you some tips."
She nodded. "You're room is across the hall," she told him, knowingly.
She remembered from when she had infiltrated the place a couple of weeks ago.
"Yeah," he told her, "so if you need anything just knock, okay?"
She nodded, glancing around her new room.
Wolverine scratched his chin, trying to think of something more to say.
He wasn't much of a talker, per say, so… "Mind if I ask you somethin'?"
She nodded. "Go ahead."
"Where'd you pick the name?" he asked, curiously.
"I just looked in a phone book 'til I found a name I liked," she told him, shrugging.
"It's a nice name," he told her, awkwardly, "and it suits you. Have you thought of a last name?"
She shook her head. "No," he answered, "why?"
"Well, you're kinda going to need one," he told her, "for school and stuff."
She nodded, understanding. "May I use your last name?" she asked. "Logan, right?"
His eyes widened in surprise at that. "How'd you know that?"
Only Charles and Fury knew that 'Logan' was his last name.
"It was in the file I hacked into at S.H.E.I.L.D. Is it okay? I mean, do you mind…?"
He shook his head.
"Nah, I don't mind," he said, smiling. "I guess you are kinda like my daughter…"
"Not really," she told him, biting her lip and looking down again. "I'm just a clone."
"Hey now," he said, lifting her chin, "I don't want to hear any such talk. You ain't exactly a 'clone' because you're much prettier than me and you're a girl."
"What else would you call me then?" she asked, curiously. "I wasn't born, after all, I was created."
"How about "offspring"?" he suggested, smirking. "You did come from me—from my DNA, anyway. To my way of thinkin', that makes me the closest thing to a parent you got."
She blinked at him for a moment, and then threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his middle, crying softly.
"Hey now," he said, smiling down at her, "I told you I ain't a touch-feely kinda guy."
He did, however, wrap his arms around her comfortingly and held her gently to him.
After a few moments, she stopped crying and let go of him. "Uh, sorry…" she said, embarrassed.
"Don't apologize," he told her, smirking. "I guess I can learn to be touchy-feely for you."
She smiled a genuine smile this time.
"You don't have to," she told him.
He just shrugged.
"Kitty's huggin' me all the time, too," he told her, smirking. "Reckon it's about time to stop fightin' it and just accept it."
He looked her up and down, appraisingly.
"You know, the two of you are about the same size, so you could borrow a pair of her pajamas for tonight," he told her.
"Are you sure she wouldn't mind?" she asked, frowning. "I, uh, did attack her and the others the last time I was here…"
"That's water under the bridge, darlin'," he told her, gently. "You'll see, she's the friendliest little thing around here."
She nodded. "All right, then," she said, "I'll ask her."
He nodded. "And I'll ask Storm to take you shopping with a few of the girls tomorrow so you can get your own stuff, okay?"
"That'll be fine," she told him.
He nodded. "I reckon I'd better go change. Be right out," he said, and then went into his room across the hall.
He came out wearing his typical blue jeans, black t-shirt, and boots.
Neither of them commented on the fact that they were dressed alike, though both noticed it.
"You hungry?" he asked her, curiously.
"Good," he said, grinning, "me, too. Let's go get some grub."
Together, the two of them walked down stairs to join the others in the dining room for dinner.
Charles and Storm, he noticed, smiled at the sight of him with his arm around her shoulders.
He grunted, rolling his eyes.
Ain't they ever seen a father and daughter before?