I.

THE THING ABOUT BEING the self-proclaimed foster dad of misfits is that when one has an issue, the others end up with problems, and then one thing leads to another and you have to smoke a fat one to get away from a kid that makes people pass out if she touches them and a blue-furred kid that teleports himself at the most inconvenient times.

Of course, it's rather a niche circumstance to be the supervisor of a life absorber and a borderline anthropomorphic human, but when you have adamantium blades in your knuckles and you're over 150 years old but don't look a day over 42, to question a situation like that is the pot calling the kettle burnt.

Or whatever shit 'Ro is always saying, Logan thinks to himself before he lights his cigar again. He's in the forest behind Xavier's mansion, far away enough to avoid another tiring lecture from Slim and a disapproving (but enticing) look from Red, but close enough to be ready to be on the attack if a bastard dares to attack the institute.

Just the right place to separate himself from the chaos that comes with children learning how to control their out-of-this-world powers. A human mutant man's moment of peace and quiet.

Taking a puff out of his cigar, Wolverine glances up at the sky above—the sun bright and vivid and with no clouds in sight—and exhales the fumes from the rolled bundle as he sniffs the air and leans more into the boulder his back is on. He thinks about the current state of serenity surrounding him—

10 seconds later, as he reaches behind and above himself, takes a hold of something that squeals, takes a couple of steps forward, and swings it surprisingly gently unto his right shoulder, he then remembers that good things don't last forever.

"G-G-Gah! Wolvie, no fair!"

The smoking male looks to his right, scoffing as he briefly ruffles the short black hair of the "intruder" whose gripping onto his shoulder. "You'll never be able to successfully spook me with how strong that flower power shampoo of yours is. I can detect its smell even if you were in another city, Jubilee."

Said female swings her legs to her left and softly climbs onto Wolverine's back, resting her chin on his cowboy hat.

"It's peach blossom to be exact," Jubilee quickly replies before giving a childish huff. Logan rolls his eyes.

"Barely any difference, kiddo'."

Of course the bub with fireworks would be the one to invade his moment of privacy. If it's not Stripes or the Elf, it's her.

"You're lucky you're my favorite out of all the kids, kiddo', with how much you're always trying to spook me"—Wolverine feels Jubilee get off of him and turns around to see that she's now sitting crisscrossed on the boulder he was leaning on earlier—"because I just might have been on the attack for any other imbecile if they tried what you constantly do even once."

Jubilee laughs and claps her hands enthusiastically. "Since I'm your favorite, does that mean you'll finally take me off cleaning duty of your motorcycle for taking it for a ride the other day and almost crashing?"

Wolverine grumbles. "Don't push your luck, bub—I expect my ride to be extra shiny tomorrow."

"Can you take off at least one day, Wolvie? Pretty please?"

"No," he responds, knowing that it isn't close to being the end of it.

"10 hours?"

"No."

"8 hours?"

"No."

"6?"

"Jubilee..."

"4?"

"N—"

"3? 2? 1? 59 minutes? Oh, what about 58 minutes?! 57 might be—"

"JUBILEE!"

"Suggestions never hurt anyone," Jubilee responds cheerfully, "like Scott always tells us."

Logan narrows his eyes but instead of instantly responding chooses to focus on his cigar again. He takes a wide puff, and as he lets the smoke out, he can see in the corner of his eye that Jubilee moved back out of disgust.

"I swear, you kids are going to be the death of me."

"No, but those cigars sure are. Why do you even use them anyway when you can just get modern cigarettes?" Jubilee quickly replies and asks.

"There's a style and status to the cigar that a cigarette just can't beat."

"Style and class? If I didn't know any better, I think Emma Frost is rubbing off of you, even if you don't like her."

Wolverine turns around and raises an eyebrow. Now that is something that isn't true.

"No way in hell am I ever gonna be like that bitch."

"Language, Wolvie, you're in the presence of a lady, and, quite frankly, dropping smoking all together would be far more fancy. You're gonna get lung-cancer if you keep...on…"

Jubilee's cheeks turn red and Wolverine smirks as she processes what she just said.

"Cancer? You should remember what superhero you're taking to before acting like a mini Cyke," Wolverine tells her, "and you should also remember that a true sidekick to me never fears either a cigar or a cigarette.

Despite saying all that, however, the second Jubilee reaches for his cigar, he quickly moves it as far away from her as possible.

"Hold on now, I was making a joke—no smoking for you until you're 18, darlin'."

"How about 17? I will only be 16 for three more months, you know."

"Try to bargain once more time and I'm turning your 1 week punishment into 2 weeks instead, Jubes," Wolverine warns the teenager. Jubilee gives a whine as Logan closes his eyes and opens his mouth for another blow on his cigar...

Pop!

...Except, this time, nothing happens.

Wolverine's eyes open wide to witness what little left of his cigar on the grass below him, burnt to a crisp. He turns to his right to see Jubilee a few feet away from him, skipping away and laughing as her trademark "fireworks" continue to erupt from her gloved hands.

"See you later, Wolvie—and before you ask, Rogue sent me to do it in retaliation for you driving Gambit away from the mansion again when he tried to take Rogue out to a bar or whatever. Look on the bright side, though—you get to intake clean air for once!"

...

Wolverine gave a blank stare for five seconds before unleashing his claws.

I'll take Jubes first and then Stripes, the mutant notes before sprinting after the former of the two.

Of course, once he does reach Sparky (in under 5 seconds and Stripes (who was in her room listening to alternative rock), he sheds no blood.

His mentor of punishment he sees fit for them is the two girls having to listen to a 2 hour lecture from Slim and Red on what makes a hero and why blackmailing Logan isn't alright, though he doesn't expect to get a lecture himself by Chuck for trying to unleash his fangs at that sneaky Cajun for the 25th time in two weeks.

II.

"Are you going to give me the blood like I asked you to or are you just gonna keep standing there?"

Wolverine snaps out of the daydream—one of many he's been having lately, oddly enough—he was just in and hands one of the ten bags of blood in his hands to Jubilee, though he does warn her to watch her attitude.

It's not until she takes the lid of the pouch off that she realizes he's watching her.

"...What?"

"You're forgetting to say something."

"...Oh. Thank you," the ebony-haired female responds before continuing back to drinking her "meal". Wolverine looked at the watch on his left wrist with a clear sense of uncomfortableness.

It is rare for the male to show someone was getting him anxious, but Jubilee as she is now—pointed fangs and baggy eyes and paler than snow skin—has messed up a lot of people's mind, from Scott to Wolverine to Jubilee herself.

Of course, the change is not enough for Wolverine to ignore the stench of tobacco from the eighteen year old, and he frowns immensely.

"Smoking again? Frost told you to stop. I told you to stop. You're in no condition to be using any additives if they're not medical or recommended by Reyes or Rao, not to mention you're too young."

"I'm 17, close to 18. I think I'm ready."

Logan catches the sight of a pink lighter with the image of a red lipstick design and in an instant throws it away. Jubilee scoffs but doesn't get up to retrieve it.

"You got another lighter, and you're smoking again, Sparky."

"Yes, we already went through this. I'm smoking and I'm 17—you want a cookie for stating the obvious?"

Wolverine growls. "Attitude, Jubilation Lee."

Jubilee looks to her right.

"Sorry."

She sits on the bed and he stands from afar, for the next five minutes, neither talking and no sound heard except for the sound of the replays of Looney Tunes on the TV. The smell of leftover cruor from the poach the vampire teen just finished still hits both of their noses, moreso Wolverine's.

"Your daily therapy session with Frost is in an hour, and she chewed my ass out the last time you missed it, Sparky. Get ready," Wolverine says after a while.

"..."

"Please."

"..."

Wolverine sighs as Jubilee turns away from him.

"I'm going go outside the apartment and have a quick talk with Armor on the phone, so just do what I say, okay?"

"..."

"Okay?"

"...Yes, Logan," the pale teen replies before grumbling to herself and looking for some clothes to wear. Wolverine takes out his phone and walks out, and he slams the door so hard he's sure it's somewhat cracked now.

(He ignores the sniffles he hears and the sound of blood pouches and shoes being thrown to the walls because no longer does confrontation end up with a resolution in this house of a mutant and his sidekick.)

—✦—

✦ † ✦

—✦—

Wolverine and Jubilee enter Frost's office two minutes before the meeting's supposed to start, and when Emma takes one sniff of Jubilee and glares disapprovingly at Wolverine, he has nothing to say.

"I'm this close to revoking your rights to watching over her. I would've let her stay in that padded room, if I knew you'd let her get into your tobacco supplies. It's like 'monkey see monkey do' with you two."

"Just look into her mind again," Logan growls out as Jubilee begrudgingly sits down in a chair across from the seat Emma's always in.

Emma narrows her eyes at him.

"You are a man full of contradictions"—Emma looks him up and down in displeasure before turning around to go sit with Jubilee—"and Jubilee is a girl full of naivety. The worst two combinations of traits to have in a duo."

Jubilee thinks something vulgar in response that Emma reprimands her for, but Wolverine just sighs and steps out of the office, taking tobacco out from the left pocket of his jeans and a lighter from the right pocket.

(He smokes two more cigars during that two-hour therapy session.)

[FIN.]

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