This story is set in the same continuum as an upcoming X-Men fanfiction I am co-writing with fellow YWS-ers, IAmTraunt and Nightcrawler, in which we expand upon the character X-23/Laura Kinney. The premise of this one-shot is: because she spent so many years in isolation, Laura isn't really certain about her identity, so she goes through a few phases and fads as she explores her individuality and tries to discover her true self. (How sentimental, right? It sounds like something out of Star Trek: Voyager. :P) In this story, she's trying out being a girly-girl, which Wolverine thinks is an expensive hobby.
* * * *
Logan takes in my third armload of clothes as I dump them into an already overflowing pushcart.
"I don't know, kid," he says uncertainly. He holds up a fuzzy, pink sweater with a fuzzy, pink poodle stitched on the front and makes a face. "This doesn't suit you."
"Says the guy who wears flannel and jeans year-round," I retort. But he's right; Kitty's always telling me I look better in winter colors.
I have to admit, though, Logan's been pretty resilient throughout this "brief" errand to Walmart. I took him through some considerably awkward aisles, where he received plenty of odd stares; he had this gloomy, Eeyore-like look on his face the whole time, but he didn't utter a word of complaint until now.
I suppose he had to say something before I make him poor at the checkout counter.
Logan asks, "Are we going to put some things back?"
"Fine." I dig through the cart's contents and pull out a few things to go back on their shelves. "This nail polish seemed a bit overpriced...."
I remove five small items, mostly hair accessories and cosmetics.
"Anything else?" He's beginning to sound impatient.
I take out two more shirts and a maxi skirt that's probably too long for me anyway. Despite my "uncharted regenerative capabilities," I'd rather not trip and fall down the stairs unnecessarily.
Logan sighs. You can practically see a rain cloud over his head now. "Let's go."
At the checkout counter, Logan grabs a pack of cigars and shows his ID card to the bored-looking cashier.
Her sleepy eyes stray to the cart I'm pushing, and they widen, not with glee at how rich Walmart's going to be when we're done, but annoyance as she reckons she'll have to bag it all.
"Are you two together?" She asks it almost beseechingly.
"Laura," Logan says warningly, "pick two things you must have and leave the rest."
The cashier, whose name tag says Hello, my name is Marta, heaves a huge sigh of relief as I reluctantly set a pair of cute jeans and a flannel shirt down on the conveyor belt. I won't freeze to death this winter in these.
....Wait, what?
"That'll be twenty-seven ninety-nine, please."
Logan fishes out his credit card from his wallet. "This stuff used to be cheaper ten years ago."
Marta puts on an unnaturally cheery smile. "You have a nice day, sir."
Logan sets off the metal detectors at the exit ... again. A little old lady checks our receipt, though, and lets us go after a while.
Logan stows the shopping bags in the back of his motorcycle before I climb on. As we leave the parking lot, I think I hear him mutter something over the deafening roar of the engine.
"What did you say?"
He doesn't repeat, but I'm pretty sure it was something about flannel and jeans.
Points: 7831
Reviews: 109
Donate