Bloodthirsty. [ MARVEL / X-Men x Male Reader ]

Chapter I, Page I: Bar fights.

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X-Men.
Year: 2000
Location: Laughlin City, Alberta, Canada.

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It was loud—very loud. He couldn't see a thing; he had to keep his eyes closed, even if he didn't want to. It was for his safety. He was in a building, some sort of fight club; he didn't know, he didn't care. People surrounded the cage, cheering on the fighter they bet on to win; some were drinking, some were smoking, and some were probably doing lines of heroin in the bathrooms. [Y/N], however, was sitting at a table close enough to the cage but not too close to get talked to by any stranger. He was fiddling with a few little bits and bobs to keep himself entertained while he waited, and when the next bell rang to indicate another fighter had been taken down, he got his hopes up a little, thinking that it meant it was finally time to go, but no.

Two bouncers, or who [Y/N] assumed were bouncers, guards, or whatever, dragged the unconscious fighter by his arms out of the fighting cage. Then the announcer started to talk again, making him sigh as he realized it wasn't time to leave.

"Gentlemen," he called to get their attention. "In all my years, I've never seen anything like that." The crowd would erupt, as if answering back to him. "Are you going to let this man walk away with your money?" Again, the crowd would erupt, but this time, a man shouted out that he would fight, standing up and heading down to the cage. "Ladies and gentlemen, our savior!" The announcer, rather dramatically, exclaimed into the microphone, the crowd cheering on the new guy.

[Y/N], however, was utterly tired of it all. He hoped this was the last person who'd stand up to try to fight so he could leave already. He could already guess that the announcer was warning the new fighter not to hit the other guy in the balls and that he'd take it personally. If he could open his eyes, he would probably have been helping Logan during the time between fights, so until it's all over, he'll just have to sit and wait.

The bells rang again to indicate that the fight had begun, with the new fighter getting the first swing since Logan had his back to him. Getting that advantage, he got more hits in. Punching him in the face, knocking him to all fours by the cage walls, kicking him against the metal wires... but when Logan was given the time to briefly recover, he got the upper hand once again. Their fists had collided, and the new fighter was the one who got hurt from it. Logan was back up to his feet at that point; one punch and a headbutt later, the new guy had gone down. Predictable. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's winner and still king of the cage, the Wolverine!" The announcer declared Logan's victory after what felt like centuries of being there, to [Y/N] at least. Some of the crowd cheered, and some of them booed, just like any other night. Now, he just had to wait for Logan to get his shit and come get him. Since he couldn't open his eyes, Logan was his personal walking cane, but he wouldn't say that to his face.

Later, when the place almost completely cleared, [Y/N] wasn't too happy to learn they'd be staying for longer while Logan got a drink. "It smells so bad in here." He'd complain with a huff, holding onto Logan's arm while he was led towards the bar. "And it doesn't smell any better when you're blowing smoke in my face!" He elbowed Logan in the side, not too pleased about the cigar smoke, even if Logan wasn't purposefully blowing it at him.

Logan hit him back much more gently than [Y/N] had; it was practically just a tap. "I never asked you to follow me 'round, kid." Logan simply answered, sitting down on a bar stool and guiding [Y/N] to the closest one. "I'll have a beer." Logan spoke to the bartender, putting the cigar in his mouth while rooting through his pockets for money that he soon threw on the bar. [Y/N] was too young to drink, so he, of course, didn't order him beer.