The Newest Hot Fanfic (Poolverine)

Chapter 6: ''In the Heat of Battle''

A COUPLE OF DAYS after the Hydra facility escapade, we're knee-deep in a different kind of hell—this one, a dingy warehouse tucked away in the back alleys of New York. The kind of place that looks like it's seen better days—rusted metal siding, broken windows, and the omnipresent stench of mildew and discarded dreams.

Today's mission? Retrieve stolen intel from a group of tech thieves who've decided this warehouse would be their new home. It's supposed to be a clean job: get in, get the data, get out. But of course, things rarely go as planned, especially not when you've got me around.

Wolverine and I slip inside through a side door, the hinges creaking like an old man's knees. The warehouse is a cavernous expanse, filled with stacks of crates, tangled piles of cables, and the occasional flickering light bulb that does little more than cast eerie shadows on the walls. It's as if the place is begging for trouble.

And trouble, as always, finds us.

We move through the maze of debris, our footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust and grime on the floor. Logan's a ghost, barely making a sound, his senses tuned to the slightest disturbance. Me? I'm more like a circus on wheels—constant chatter and movement that just can't be helped.

"So, Logan," I whisper as we round a corner. "Do you think they have a lost-and-found here? Because I seem to have misplaced my sanity."

Logan shoots me a sharp look but doesn't say a word. He's focused, and I'm not about to distract him any further.

We hear voices ahead—muffled, but unmistakably human. Logan signals for silence, and we crouch behind a stack of crates. Through the gaps, we spot our targets: a handful of tech thieves hunched over a large computer terminal, furiously typing away.

Logan takes a deep breath, preparing for the assault. I, on the other hand, am practically vibrating with excitement. I mean, who wouldn't be? This is what I live for—action, chaos, and the thrill of almost getting my face blown off.

"Alright," Logan says in a low growl. "On my mark."

He counts down silently, and when he reaches zero, we burst into action.

Logan springs forward, claws extended, a blur of deadly precision. The first thief barely has time to react before Logan's already on him, slashing through the air with a practiced swipe that sends the man sprawling across the floor.

I follow close behind, adding my own brand of chaos to the mix. I'm like a tornado made of sharp metal and sarcastic quips, my katanas flashing in the dim light. I slice through a stack of cables, sending sparks flying, and catch one of the thieves by surprise, driving my blade into his side.

"Surprise, buddy!" I yell, spinning around to face the next threat. "Didn't see that one coming, did ya?"

The warehouse erupts into a cacophony of shouts and gunfire. One of the thieves grabs a shotgun, firing wildly in our direction. I dodge the bullets with a series of acrobatic flips, landing gracefully on top of a nearby crate. From my elevated position, I see Logan engaged in a fierce fight with two more thieves, his claws moving with the deadly grace of a predatory cat.

And then it happens.

In the midst of the chaos, I get tangled up with one of the thieves who's trying to sneak up on Logan. We crash into each other, bodies colliding in a tangle of limbs and weaponry. I'm thrown against something solid, and it takes a split second to realize that "something solid" is, in fact, Logan himself.

We're pressed together, our bodies jammed against each other in a way that's... unexpectedly intimate. My face is mere inches from Logan's, and I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin. It's not just that he's close—it's that he's right there, his chest brushing against mine, his muscles tensed and coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Logan's eyes meet mine, and for a moment, everything else fades into the background. It's just the two of us, locked in this awkward, flustered embrace in the middle of a high-stakes fight.

I open my mouth to make some sort of sarcastic comment, but nothing comes out. I'm too busy trying to ignore the pounding of my heart, the flush creeping up my neck, and the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"You alright?" Logan's voice is a rough whisper, his breath warm against my cheek.

It takes a moment for my brain to process the question. I nod vigorously, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Yeah, just, uh, enjoying the view!"

Logan doesn't look amused. He shoves me away, using his superior strength to disentangle us from the mess. I stumble back, landing hard on the concrete, and scramble to my feet just in time to see Logan dispatch the last of our attackers with a series of swift, efficient moves.

The fight doesn't last much longer. Once the thieves are subdued, the warehouse falls eerily silent except for the distant hum of machinery. I push myself up, dusting off my suit with exaggerated motions, trying to regain my usual bravado.

Logan turns to me, his expression a mixture of irritation and something softer, something that makes me wonder if maybe he's not as immune to the situation as he likes to pretend. "You good?" he asks again, his tone less gruff this time.

"Never better," I reply, forcing a grin. "Just had a close encounter of the Logan kind. Nothing like a little body heat to get the adrenaline pumping."

Logan rolls his eyes, but there's a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just try not to get in my way next time."

"Got it," I say, brushing off imaginary dust from my shoulders. "I'll make a note of it. 'Avoid accidental cuddles with Wolverine.'"

We finish up the mission, retrieving the stolen intel and ensuring the thieves don't wake up to cause more trouble. The tension between us has settled into a strange, unspoken understanding. It's not exactly comfortable, but it's there, a reminder of that weird, flustered moment back in the heat of battle.

As we make our way out of the warehouse, I can't help but replay the whole awkward encounter in my mind. It's not every day I get this close to Wolverine—literally and figuratively—and it's going to take me a while to figure out what exactly happened.

For now, though, I'll settle for my usual coping mechanism: sarcasm and jokes. Because if there's one thing I know, it's that laughter is the best way to cover up the fact that I'm feeling things I don't quite understand.

"Next time we're fighting," I say with a grin, "let's try to keep the 'close' part to a minimum. My heart can't handle that much excitement."

Logan snorts but doesn't argue. And as we step out into the cool night air, I feel a strange mix of relief and anticipation. Because no matter how weird or awkward things get, one thing's for sure: life with Wolverine is never boring.