Chapter Text
The only promises Wolverine ever kept were the ones to himself. The quiet ones, truths he swore never to admit to.
When he was little and his mutation developed, he hadn't known what to do. There were two twitching appendages atop his head, and a long bone covered in fur extending from his spine.. but the true stars had been those claws. Extensions of the bones that just seemed to appear.
The ears and tail had been quiet embarrassing, not to mention rather annoying. His tail wagged like a little dogs, which he almost refused to acknowledge. The ears were triangular and rounded, easily hidden beneath thick hair if they were pressed flat enough and his hair was fixed just so.
His human ears hadn't exactly vanished either, which made him question the anatomy behind his mutation.. but those questions were for some other time, maybe never. The question was to embarrassing to ask because he would have to admit he had the fuzzy appendages to even think of the question.
When he met the X-men, with their weird little names and interesting talents, he had been.. hesitant. Though both the professor and the red-head could read his mind.. all it took was a little prod at some memory before the ears twitched in the puffy mess of hair, before his tail tried to move under the tight pants. Annoying.
Scott was not one to hide the amusement. Big, intimidating man making fun of them was part animal.. physically. In later points, it would explain everything. His little noises to the way he ran and pounced. He never acted like Logan couldn't hear him, because he knew the man could hear a whisper four rooms away- which of course meant simply teasing the big man to his face.. indirectly.
Scott stands awkwardly in the middle of the halls, his more comfortable pair of glasses settled on his face, colors besides red and black long forgotten.. it had been years since his mutation developed, the lack of colors something he'd grown accustom to.
Behind the door he stood in front of came irritated growls from the new x-man who had not quite warmed up to the team. Wolverine was a man who couldn't even remember his own last name, his own abilities. The man could fight, but he was.. unpredictable, unreliable. An untrained animal without a leash who refused any master.
It's been roughly a month since he's joined, this was far from his first mutant recovery mission, yet he was still so stand-offish. Maybe it was the jet, maybe it was the team.. maybe it was the instincts wired into the mans brain that convinced him he was in danger.
Wolverine was forever unimpressed with anything that wasn't done by him.
This mission would lead them to some city in California, deep inside a hospital. Four mutants with late-activating mutations were all in there, struggling to function, forcing themselves to hide. Charles had stressed their recruitment for a simple and understandable reason.. they were medical professionals.
Three surgeons and a nurse, four people who could help treat after mass-injury conflicts, after a poorly executed mission. It made it even more complicated that they had come in pairs, considering they'd been married.
A surgeon to a nurse, a surgeon to a surgeon. Two men, two women.
One of them, apparently, had a mutation that much mimicked the wolverines.
Scott couldn't wait to find out.
Jean and Ororo were already in the jet, Charles staying at base along with beast, making sure the children would be properly watched over and educated just the same.
"Scott." Logan seems to snarl, opening the door to reveal the dark suit all of them wore. "To small." The man kicks his feet, lip raised. It revealed a sharp canine that gleamed in the light. The mans ears were very noticeable, flicking around anxiously. The suit was new, made to accommodate the wolverines very active tail.
"We have bigger issues. Im sure the professor is having a new one made for you as we speak.. but we have to go. Schedule." He scolds in the best 'leader' voice he can muster, patience a virtue he's forced to rely on with every conversation he has with this man.
As scary as he seemed to be.. Wolverine was often clueless. He wandered around like a lost puppy some days, ears flat and tail stiff, eyes glued to the horizon, to the trees, as if he could bring back every lost memory.. as if he could fix whatever mess he had gotten himself into.
"Fine." The grump huffed out, wide shoulders seeming to sag as he stomps his way towards the jet like a tantruming child.
Scott smirks to himself. Wolverine hated being in the air in the same way a cat hated water.
Deep inside the busy hospital, buried deep in California, crowded with people, were those four professionals.
Neil Melendez was grinning, much to Marcus Andrews' grand annoyance. Currently, the African American man's teeth; his canines; were beginning to grow sharper. He'd cut his tongue on them multiple times, his mouth feeling to full and uneven.
Not only that, but he had growled. Actually growled. Like some sort of rabies infested animal let loose. It was embarrassing and more than that, it was damaging. Neil.. did not seem to care.
The latino had his own set of little.. gifts. Ever since the day- that awful day, all four of them had developed them.
Marcus didn't want to even think about it.
He yelps when he feels the other man, from across the room, push him with a sharp gust of air. The running water had also flicked against Marcus' face in droplets, making the man far more irritated than he already was. Neil was a healer. So was Dalisay.. and so was Audrey.. maybe.
Neil, much like his professional interest, could control a heart. He could keep it beating through blood loss, through breaks and splinters and any possible injury a person could face. He could make it beat fast or beat slow.. or he could completely stop it from beating at all.
His was much more interesting. Marcus just felt like some overgrown dog who was bound to pounce at any moment. His mutation was waking slowly again.
It had helped that night.
Marcus remembers the thrill of hunting that man like a predator to prey. His memories of it are week, fragmented. They're filled with the taste of blood and skin, the warmth of fur, and the amusement that came with instinctual cruelty.
His head hurts.
"Man, what even can you do? Shape-shift maybe?" Neil suggested, turning the running faucet off with a flick of his hand. Marcus shrugs.
He could heal quickly, he knew that. He knew he could fight (something that came with whatever instincts the mutation seemed to throw at him), and he knew he could change.. he just didn't know what to. He scoffs.
Annoying.
"I wish it was useful. I feel the buzz of a few cameras, hear and see a little more, and now I'm growing.. fangs. Maybe I'm turning into a vampire." He says, sarcastic.
"Yeah, yeah, smart ass. Come on, Audrey and Dali are waiting. Sooner we get done here the sooner we get to take them out to dinner.. and then the sooner you get the stress fucked out of ya." Neil mocks, smirking in pure amusement as he watches the chief surgeons face change into something close to want, humiliation, and horror.
Marcus ignores the very hiss like sound that comes out of him.
Neil does not.