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marvelwitchergilmore · 1 month

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In Sickness and Health

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Logan takes care of you when you're sick.

Disclaimer: Mentions of throwing up, getting the flu, flashbacks to exploding boats. Mostly fluff for how Logan takes care of the reader. Couple of swear words. Happy ending. Not Proof Read.

You never got sick.

It didn’t matter who you were around, or where you had been or what you had been doing. You never got sick.

You could help ten puking kids, three more flu ridden ones, walk through a room full of adults who had everything from the flu to fainting from it, and still walk away and not have gotten sick.

Standing by the kitchen door, Logan watched you.

In all fairness, he’d been watching you ever since he saw you sneeze whilst he was sitting outside teaching a kid outside of lesson times. Sitting in a classroom didn’t help the kid, but sitting outside on a bench, watching the world go by…well, the kids could recite the whole book by the end.

For three days, you’d been sniffling, sneezing and coughing. No more than anyone else, but coming from you, it was concerning for Logan.

He couldn’t get sick, but that was due to his own mutation. Not by some miracle act from God.

So, standing by the kitchen door, Logan watched you.

Your nose was a little red from the amount of times you’d used a tissue against it in the last few days, your skin was flushed, your eyes heavy and your steps slow.

For the third time in four minutes, you zipped your jumper back up and shivered.

“You’re sick.”

Logan’s voice made you jump. He wasn’t loud but it still made your ears ring.

“I am not sick.”

“Yes, you are.” Logan pushed himself from the door frame and he walked closer towards you.

“I don’t get sick. I’m not sick. Just…tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“No, neither did I. I could hear you coughing and sneezing from down the hall.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Sure.” Logan raised his brows for a second.

“It wasn’t.”

Then you sneezed.

“Okay,” Logan practically sang, taking you by your shoulders. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I don’t need to go to bed. I’m making food-”

“We don’t need you making everyone else sick. One kid, fine. An entire school? Even Mother Teresa might struggle with that one.”

Logan stood behind you and guided you out of the door and down the hallways.

“Why is it so hot in here?” Quickly zipping your jacket back down, you tried your hardest to get it off you as fast as you could. Logan helped you for a moment before pressing his hand to the back of your neck.

“You’re sick.”

“I am not sick.”

“You’re freezing cold,” Logan pointed out.

“Then why do I feel like I’m on fire?”

“Because,” Logan said. “You’re sick.”

Helping you down the hall and into your bedroom, Logan pulled the covers back from your bed and made sure you got into it. The minute your head hit the pillow, the pouding just became a dull ache.

“If I’m so sick, why are you helping me? You’ll get sick.”

Logan shook his head as he tucked you in whilst simultaneously untucking your duvet from the frame of the bed.

“I can’t get sick. My mutation makes sure I can’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

“But what about the kitchen?”

You went to get out of bed again but Logan practically ran around the bed to stop you. It didn’t take a firm hand to push you back down.

He sat beside you, his arms caging you in where you lay.

“Don’t worry about that. I can take care of it.”

“You can cook?”

Logan nodded.

“You? You, Logan Howlett, can cook?”

Logan furrowed his brows, a little offended. “Don’t sound too shocked.”

“Just…never seen you cook an actual meal.”

Logan shrugged, “When you bunk with seven other soldiers who don’t know the difference between toast and charcoal, you learn pretty quickly.”

“Huh.” You said, slightly shocked by his admission. Though, come to think of it, Logan was full of surprises these days.

Your friendship with him hadn’t started out on the best of terms given that you had punched him in the face when you first met him, thinking he was on the other team of people who were hunting you.

You got a good swing in, too. Made his nose bleed. Which was never an easy feat when it came to someone like Logan.

Of course, for a while, given that you didn’t want to join either team, or any team for that matter, you and Logan were a bit stand-offish to each other. On the rare occasion you did see each other (usually whenever X-Men came to find you), your communication with him was through glares and grunts. Which he gave back in return.

Then the first couple of times he, technically, saved your life, you were more adamant on fighting him. Like when he pulled you out of the water when you fell in, even though it had been on purpose and you yelled at him for leaving the boat you’d both been on.

“Oh, well excuse me for thinking I was saving your life!” He had yelled at you as you walked up the bank and found a log to throw your jacket over whilst you wrung out your hair and the bottom of your t-shirt.

“I jumped, Logan. I didn’t fall. I knew what I was doing. You should be on that boat right now!”

“Maybe, but now I guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

Funnily enough, it was after that day you decided you hated him a little less. But it wasn’t from the water, it was when he actually listened to you and left the boat when you told him to just before it exploded.

He was the one to find you back at the bank when you dragged yourself up it and collapsed, catching your breath.

“You blew up a boat.”

You nodded. “I blew up a boat. And saved your life. I guess now we’re even.”

“Even, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He offered you his hand a minute later and pulled you up.

It still took a while for you to both become friends, but at least from that day forward, you were both civil and talked.

A few hours passed after Logan had tucked you in, or at least, you guessed they had, considering the sky was less sun-lit and more moon-lit.

“Hey,” Logan shook you awake gently and you turned over, your entire body hurting as you did so.

Slowly you sat up and felt Logan’s hands brush the hair from your face until he could see you clearly.

“Here, take these. Drink this.”

You swallowed down two tablets but made a small groan when Logan didn’t let go of the cup.

“You’ve already broken two, this is just safer.”

Then you remembered.

Logan kept his hand on the bottom of the cup as you held it and drank from it before pulling it away and placing it on your side table.

And looked down.

“Why am I wearing your shirt?”

“Because I found it in your draw. And it’s easier to get you out of it, if you spill something on it again.”

You furrowed your brows. “You got me changed?”

“It was either that or listen to you keep falling around in here.”

You grunted a small response as Logan went to lift something else from beside your bed. “Here, you need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” You tried to push it away.

“You haven’t eaten in two days. You need to eat something.”

You groaned again. “What is it?”

“Soup.” Logan gave you a small spoonful, the heat from the bottom of the bowl warming his hand. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He managed to get at least half of the bowl down before you rejected it saying you were full.

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because someone else might actually think you mean what you say while you're sick.”

You were still for a moment, then nodded. Maybe he was right.

“What time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

You just hummed and slowly lay back down in bed.

“You just get some rest.” Logan told you, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of your hand before getting up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You didn’t know if it was a minute, but he was back.

With his hand against your forehead, and through the blurry vision of your eyes in the dark, you could tell he looked worried.

“Honey, you’re burning up.” He told you, slowly peeling back each layer of bedding you’d put on top of yourself.

You hissed as he pulled the final layer back. “Logan, it’s freezing.”

“Come here, sit up for me.”

And you did.

Crouching in front of your legs, Logan kept his eyes on you until he checked the thermometer was on.

“Open up.”

You did so and he stuck the thermometer under your tongue.

“I’m surprised you know how to do this.”

“Stop talking.”

You waited for a few seconds, but then you had to speak.

“Logan, I don’t feel so good.”

“I know-”

Within a split second, you pulled the thermometer from your mouth, left it on the bed and a momentarily confused Logan behind as you ran towards your bathroom and flipped up the toilet lid.

“Okay, okay.” Logan was right behind you, pulling your hair back and rubbing your back as you practically threw your guts up into the toilet bowl.

Eventually, it stopped but you remained where you were. The puking might have stopped for a moment but the gurgling inside your stomach hadn’t.

“I think I’m sick.”

Logan gave a fake scoff. “See, now that’s just untrue.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” you told him, feeling a small smile on your face before it was wiped away by the wave of a sick feeling again.

For a moment, the gurgling in your stomach subsided and you dropped to the side of the toilet against the wall.

Logan quickly ran a fresh wash cloth under the sink before he wiped your face down, removing some of the sick stains and sweat. Once he ran it clean, he gave it to you to place at the back of your neck.

Then he stood up again and started searching through the draws around the sink til he found what he was looking for.

“Lean forward a little.”

You followed his instructions before you felt his hands scoop up your hair and secure it with a scrunchie he had found.

“Thank you.”

Reaching up to the counter, he pulled down the thermometer he was yet to check and gave a small whistle.

“Well, what’s the verdict, doc? Girl or boy?”

“39.6.”

“That’s a lot of kids..”

“I’ve called Jean. She’s still tied up at that conference in Melbourn but she should be back soon.”

“Hopefully she knows how I can give birth to that many.”

“Think you can stand?”

“After giving birth? Hell no.”

Logan sighed, but you didn’t miss the chuckle that escaped him as he helped you up off the floor.

“You okay?” Logan asked you if you gripped onto him as you swayed on the spot.

“Dizzysall.” You drawled a little as you spoke, closing your eyes.

“Let's get you back into bed.”

Logan helped you from your bathroom, back into your bedroom and into bed. You pulled the covers back over you, only to have Logan pull them off again. You whined a little.

“We still need to get your temp down, bub.”

You gave in, your strength leaving you as tiredness kicked right back in. Again, Logan brushed the stray hairs from your face as you tried your best to fight off sleep.

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“Can’t, remember?” Logan’s voice was soft. “Mutation stops it.”

You nodded, remembering, letting out a small; “Lucky bastard.”

Logan chuckled but just sat beside you as your hand held onto his while your eyes closed, giving him a little more freedom to let his eyes wander around your room.

You had a couple pictures round your room, but not many. However, you did have a hefty parcel you were yet to open, on your desk that he could guarantee contained some. Also on your desk you had a small record player, as well as the records lined up beside it. You had everything ranging from Christmas Classics to Movie Soundtracks to 80s rock. Most had been your own that you brought with you when you moved into the school, taking up a teaching position. But some others had been gifts from birthdays, christmases and the last couple had been from one’s Logan had found himself. He thought you might like to add them to your collection so picked them up and brought them back from flea markets and other places he found whenever he went out.

From what he could see, the last record you had played was one he had found for you.

When you were sound asleep, Logan stood and walked across your room and opened up your window which let in a cool breeze.

He was quiet as he moved about your room, shutting the door a little so he could flush the toilet without disturbing you before he tidied up the bathroom a little.

Then he started cleaning around your room, wiping down any surface you had touched and any that you could have.

By the time he finished, he woke you up again to make sure you got some more fluids down you all the while feeling your forehead with the back of his hand.

“You feel cooler.”

“Just what I’ve always wanted to hear.”

Taking the thermometer from your bedside table, he uncapped it and placed it under your tongue. You stayed quiet this time, waiting for the beep.

Your temperature had gone down a little, but not by much.

“Logan? Will you stay with me?”

Logan nodded. “Sure, bub. Lay down.”

You did so and he walked around the other side of your bed, pulling the covers to the floor save for the thinnest and lightest one.

Almost instantly you curled into him and closed your eyes, his arms holding you close.

“Thank you for making sure I don’t die.”

Logan smiled. “If you did, who would give me crap from cooking?”

You gave a slight smile before sleep overtook you. You woke a couple of hours later to chuck up the last few remaining ounces of your internal organs, and Logan stayed with you the whole time.

And when you fell asleep on your window seat, having been desperate for fresh air that didn’t smell like the inside of a toilet bowl, Logan carried you back into bed.

By the time morning rolled around, you had less of a rough storm inside your stomach but you were no better than the night before.

So, Logan made you take a shower.

“I’m gonna keep this door open,” Logan called over his shoulder, between the gap he had left in the door. “Shout me if you need me.”

“Okay.”

Immediately, Logan started stripping your bed covers and sheets, changing them for fresh ones. He was almost done when you came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Saying nothing, you moved over to sit by the window seat and let the fresh air brush around you.

Logan found you an extra towel and wrapped it over your shoulders so you wouldn’t get too cold, or even sicker, before going in search of some clothes.

You managed to pull your arms through the t-shirt and lift it over your head. Logan helped pull it down over the rest of your towel covered body and left you to deal with your pants whilst he shut the window so the gap for air wasn’t so big.

You pulled the towel undone from underneath you and Logan took it from you, throwing it into the laundry basket by your door.

You managed to twist your hair into a bun as you walked over to your bed, laying on top of the sheets.

The rest of the day was spent sleeping, waking up when Logan came back to make sure you were getting enough water and medicine down you as well as keeping it down. And by the afternoon, he had found a couple of old movies.

And when you asked him to stay with you, he did.

You fell asleep fifteen minutes in, but Logan still stayed with you. And even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t. Because your hands had been held above his, over your middle since he lay beside you.

You turned over, half way through the movie, gripping onto his shirt and he just rested his chin on the top of your head.

You woke up six hours later and felt better.

Over the next two days, your fever finally went down and you stopped gagging at every smell that was stronger than laundry softener. Until finally, you were sat up in bed with Logan, able to feed yourself without your arms screaming at you to just not move an inch.

“I mean it, Logan. Thank you. For everything.” You told him, turning to look at him.

He had made you some more soup and gave you some added crackers. Your appetite wasn’t back but you were thankful that you were actually hungry for once and not feeling sea sick.

“Don’t mention it. How’s the soup?”

“Tastier now that it doesn’t smell like everything else did.”

Logan nodded. “Still surprised that I can cook?”

“Oh, yeah. I still need to see you cook to believe it though.”

Logan smiled. You were getting better.

The conversation flowed for a while longer until you asked Logan one specific question.

“Do you remember when we became friends? I’m not talking about after the boat. I mean like, actual friends.”

“We’re friends?”

You scoffed, hiding your smile whilst he showed his, and shoved him slightly.

“I’m kidding. But you remember the river?”

You nodded. “Of course. You don’t exactly forget jumping from an exploding vessel.”

Logan waited a moment and then nodded. “I remember when we became friends. You took care of Rouge. She wouldn’t let anyone in to see her, but she let you.”

Logan leaned his head back and looked up to the ceiling. “God, I remember that. I think you even called me an ass.”

“Correction; A jackass.”

“Forgive me.”

“Forgiven.” You nodded. “You were so worried about her, and I couldn’t blame you. But you were being a jackass.”

“I just remember racing home and by the time I got upstairs, everyone was in bed, except for you. You stayed with her all night.”

“So you made me a cup of coffee.” You finished for him.

Logan nodded. “I remember all of that. Why’d you ask?”

“Because I’m glad it happened.” You told him. “Not Rouge getting sick, but…the moment. I’m glad we became friends with Logan, because it made me trust you outside of being an X-Man. And, I’m sorry about all the disgusting things you’ve witnessed in the past couple of days but…I’m glad you were the one to help me. I trust you, Logan. With my life. Both figuratively and literally.”

Logan shifted his hand so it held onto yours. “I’m glad, too.”

A few moments passed and you both broke eye contact when a pair of familiar heels were heard coming down the hallway.

“Here you both are.”

Jean was finally back. “You’re looking better than Logan described.”

You looked at Logan for a moment before looking back at Jean. “Yeah, it’s been…rough.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better now,” you smiled a little. “Logan had a lot to do with it.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. I’m just gonna go and check on everyone else. Make sure they’re not coming down with something, too. Are you two okay here?”

You nodded, “We’re fine.”

Jean didn’t fail to spot where Logan was holding your hand, and she gave a brief smile before heading towards the door.

A week later you were right as rain and was finally getting to see something you had been begging to witness all week.

Logan cook.

You sat by the kitchen island, watching him prepare the ingredients, cook said ingredients, all the while creating a delicious meal that wasn’t just soup and crackers, all without burning the house down.

“So you really know how to cook?” You asked, bouncing a wooden spoon between your fingertips.

“I really know how to cook.” Logan said with a small smile as he sliced through the pastry.

“Why don’t you do it more often?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Pass me that?”

You handed over the wooden spoon and Logan started stirring something. “Come and try this.”

And you did.

That night, you both sat out on the balcony, watching the stars go by.

And, as you sat there, watching the stars go by, the music from the record player steaming out from the kitchen, you looked over at Logan and realised something.

You trusted him.

You more than trusted him.

You, in fact, loved him.

It would be a few months more before something would happen between you both, but you would come to find out that Logan had realised that exact same thing. But rather than realise it out on the balcony, he had realised it for himself back inside the kitchen when you had stood beside him.

He couldn’t make sense of it at the time. Why, for such a small moment, had he realised then. But either way, he was thankful for it. Both of your lives were lived in higher stakes.

To have a small moment feels so connected with such a big one…

Looking at you, and having you look back in the same manner…

That meant the world to him.

In sickness and in health,

You meant the World to him.

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