Work Text:
Her Old Man
by Pirate Turner
"What's your sign, baby?"
Kitty Pryde stopped still at the surly sound of the drunkard behind her. "No Parking," she quipped, her body appearing relaxed yet ready to fight. She sighed mentally, her features drawing downward. She'd come out tonight not to look for adventure but just to have a few quiet minutes. Even dressed in normal civilian garb in a place no more exotic than the local bar, downtime seemed an impossibility for her.
"That ain't real nice, babe," the man growled behind her, flicking open a knife. "What do ya say, ya turn around real slow and make it up to me real nice like?"
Kitty rolled her eyes, but before she could turn around, another voice sounded from behind her. This one was low, and its threat ran far deeper than the punk's. "Lady said she ain't interested, bub."
Kitty smiled. She should have known he wouldn't be far behind. She stayed standing still, grateful for the reprieve. For once, she didn't mind Logan fighting her battles for her, and that was simply a sign of her exhaustion taking its toll.
"You her father or something?"
"Yup."
Kitty could imagine the punk's face just as easily as if she had been looking at him. His confidence was waning now, and at the sound of Snikt! and the feel of Logan's claws pressing against his back, all the color drained from his face and his knees began to shake. "S-sorry."
"Yeah, ya better be. Now say that to the lady."
"S-Sorry."
"What else?" The boy jerked forward, and Kitty knew Logan prodded him.
"M-Ma-Ma'am."
Kitty grinned.
"Now scat," Logan growled.
The boy turned from Kitty's back, took one look at Logan and his out-stretched claws, and screamed. He dropped his knife and ran for his life. "Ya okay, Punk'n?" Logan asked while reaching down and pocketing the knife.
"Of course," Kitty answered with a fond smile. "Thank you."
"No problem, kiddo." Logan ruffled her hair as he strode pass, and Kitty glowered at his back. He knew she hated that! With a shrug of her shoulders, she chose to let it pass this night and hurried to grab the seat next to, as Wisdom had once called him, her old man. She laughed to herself, her brown eyes dancing for the first time in days. Logan was her old man, not her husband or her blood father, but far closer than either would ever be.
The End