Marvel & DC Oneshots

See You

(Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Blind!(female?)Reader!)

Logan crouched under your kitchen's leaky faucet, examining. He grunted, stood, wiped his hands on a rag, and shook his head. "This clog's a real pain. Messin' with the aerator."

He looked at you, his neighbor, with whom he had a routine of exchanging good mornings and evenings—sometimes more. You had a way of drawing him into a talk, even when he tried to keep to himself.

"Best bet? Call a plumber. I'm all for trying to fix this, but I ain't takin' the blame."

"Well, thank you for trying, Logan, and I'm sorry again for having to ask." You tilt your head in the direction of his voice, "I would do it myself, but..." You trail off with a chuckle, blinking your unseeing eyes at him.

He grunted, folding his arms across his chest, observing you with an odd mixture of compassion and irritation. "Right... yer vision and all."

He had never been the caregiver type, but there was something about you that made him want to look out for you. Perhaps it was the way you had so politely asked, without any hint of entitlement or helplessness. You seemed like a damsel in distress, but one that refused to give up on her independence.

"You ever think about gettin' a service dog?" he grumbled.

"They're... expensive, and my job doesn't exactly cover 'blindness' in the insurance policy." You place a hand on the counter and carefully guide yourself around the kitchen with a bitter chuckle.

He observed as you navigated your kitchen without a struggle, your fingers tracing along the countertops. A strange mixture of admiration and pity welled up in his chest.

"Damn insurance companies," he grumbled. "Always screwin' over the people who really need their help."

He leaned back on the counter, his muscular arms folded across his chest. "If I ever meet someone from those insurance companies, I'd be the first in line to give 'em a damn good punch in the face."

"Hold 'em still for me?" You joke with a small grin on your lips.

His frown softened as you cracked a faint smile. He let out a low chuckle, his gruff voice filled with dry humor.

"Sure, doll." He said, his tone surprisingly lighthearted. "I'd love nothing more than to hold 'em still for you. Can't promise they'll look too pretty afterward, though."

"It's not like I gotta look at them." You snicker and turn, grabbing the kettle and filling it with water from the fridge dispenser,  seeing as your kitchensink is still broken.

He chuckled, leaning against the counter as you moved about the kitchen. Despite your disability and the challenges it brought, you never complained, rarely asked for help, and even managed to maintain a sense of humor. It was a stark contrast to his own gruff and isolated demeanor.

"You're tough, doll. I gotta give you that," he said, a touch of respect in his voice. "Most people, they'd be whining and complaining left and right."

"What do I have to complain about? I've got a nice house, I'm healthy and I've got the occasional ear candy from my neighbor." You place the kettle on before moving to grab cups.

He tried to suppress a smile, his voice a low rumble. Your comment took him off guard, and he was unused to being referred to as "ear candy."

"Oh, you're calling me 'ear candy' now, are ya doll? I ain't sure whether I should feel flattered or insulted." he grumbled, though their was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Well, I would say eye candy, but I'm afraid I can't enjoy the view." You place two cups beside the kettle as you retort, the ceramic clinking softly.

He chuckled once more, a deep, gravelly sound that rumbled from his chest.