Green-Eyed, Steel-Clawed, Five Foot Three Monster

(A/N: This is set in an alternate universe, one where House of M and the mutant Decimation happened but Beast still has his old pre-Morrison look. ‘Cause I may be a part-time furry, but cat-people and X-Men don’t mix.)

~*~

Hank grimaced as he walked into his lab to find four X-Men waiting for him there. *And that is precisely four more than usually come to call, regularly.* Throwing on his lab coat, he looked over his glasses and eyes the quartet. “What happened?”

Wolverine jumped out of his chair and, in imitable Logan-esque fashion, described the events of the previous two days. From what Hank could garner between strings of curse words and the occasional brooding silence, he, Shadowcat, and Iceman had been on a mission to rescue Jubilee from the “M-Warriors,” the latest disparate association of anti-mutant crusaders to scourge the state of New York since M-Day. Before the mass depowering of mutants worldwide, Jubilation would have been more than capable of handling the mob herself. But now, she was a normal 19-year-old girl, with only the most rudimentary of hand-to-hand combat skills. Enough to hold off one or two attackers, perhaps, but certainly not an entire contingent. That was where the rest of the X-Men had come in.

Hank looked worriedly over the quartet. Wolverine himself was, as always, completely unscathed, though his clothes were in tatters on his compact, hirsuite frame. Nothing new there. Bobby had been grazed across the scalp by a jagged shard of bottle glass, and his forehead was bleeding profusely. Surprisingly enough, Kitty had taken a few hard knocks, but the defiant look in her eyes told Hank she’d given as good as she got. *Perhaps a tad better,* the Beast thought as he checked her over. Sprained wrist, hairline fracture along the collarbone, and a pulled ligament in her calf. Nothing serious, not in the X-Men’s line of work, but Hank bet it was painful.

Jubilee had it worst. She’d blacked out while they’d waited for him, a concussion probably. Her left arm, right leg, and ribs were broken in several places, and one rib had actually punctured a lung. Hank knew he was going to have a devil of a time fixing that all by himself. *It is a pity Cecilia’s vanished off the face of the earth,* he thought to himself. *I could truly use another experienced physician at this particular juncture.* Looking over the group, he saw Wolverine meet his gaze, and nodded. Logan would help. Along with the dozens of other things he’d been in his life, field medic was on the list. Hank then turned his attention to each patient, his mind completely on the job.

~*~
Two Hours Later

Logan watched Hank go about his business with a mix of efficiency and gentleness that blew his mind. *That right there, that’s what a doc should be like. Hank McCoy. Stand-up guy, always shoots it straight with ya, don’t sugar-coat nothin’ but always tries t’make it better.*

His gaze flicked over to Jubilee’s unconscious form. *Even when he might not be able to.* His pint-size groupie was swathed in bandages and hooked up to more Shi’Ar machines than Logan had thought Hank could fit in his lab. The machines, Hank had said, would stimulate both internal and external tissue regeneration and knit the bones back together in their proper places, but whether Jubilee woke up or not was entirely dependent on her mind…something computers just couldn’t fix. And neither could Xavier, now that his telepathy was fragged by M-Day. *Only person who could brain-jolt Jubes back on her feet again is Frost.* He met Kitty’s gaze, and she shook her head subtly. *An’ I’m damned if I’ll let One-Eye’s little Playmate anywhere near her. Not after everythin’ she’s put Kitty through.*

A slight chuckle broke his moody reverie, and he turned with a fierce glower. Bobby’s injuries had been the least severe out of all the X-Men. Hank had just finished stitching him up, and now they were talking while Beast cleaned blood out of the Iceman’s hair. Logan was about to snarl at them to shut up, have respect for sick folks, or something like that, when something caught his eye.

Hank had brushed a lock of sandy-blond hair off Iceman’s face. Nothing spectacular, nothing earth-shattering, but he saw the way Bobby blushed, and a smile that they seemed to share, like two war buddies who were comfortable with each other after years of working together. That bond was the closest thing Logan had ever felt; it went deeper than friendship, broke through their years of being stuck on separate teams. The two of them were tight, even under shitty circumstances, and they could conquer the world together. It was like love, only without the sex.

Thinking about sex made something in Logan stir, and without meaning to, he let his gaze slide down to the back of Hank’s lab coat. The light shone through it in just such a way that those big, muscular legs were silhouetted through the material, that powerful, tight ass just hinted at under his blue uniform trunks, and below it, the tiniest curve of something that may have been…

“Logan? Did you hear me?” Wolverine started with a jolt and turned his gaze up to meet Hank’s confused blue eyes. Shit! He’d been caught! “Sorry. What’dja say?”

The Beast’s head cocked quizzically. “I was going to say, you can go. Everyone here’s been treated, and are on the mend…at least, as mended as I’ll be able to get.them.” He cast a pitying glance at Jubilee, and looked apologetically at Wolverine. “But under the circumstances, maybe you’d better stay here overnight, for observation. I have an air mattress set up in the next room…I use it myself, when I’m down here. Why don’t you take that?”

*Me? Sleep in Hank’s BED? Christ, that’d go over well.* Logan shook his head, a little too vigorously. When he talked, it took an effort to make his voice sound as nonchalant as usual. “Thanks but…Nah. You know how I am about hospitals, Blue. An’ besides, I snore. Ya wouldn’t get a lick o’work done down here.” Before Hank could object, Logan was stalking the halls of the sub-basement, headed for the elevator as fast as he could without making it look like he was running.

*I gotta get outta here. Head for the surface, give myself a workout. Maybe I’ll challenge the Elf to another game o’tag. I could use a case or so o’brewskies right about now.*

~*~

Next Chapter: Wolvie does what he does best: Cut stuff up and brood.