Entry tags:

!complete, astrid hofferson, logan howlett (wolverine)

Who: Logan & Astrid
What: Time to get the viking a damn motorcycle, that's what.
When: Let's say...tonight??
Where: Bike shop.
Rating/Warnings: Nada!
Status: Complete!

“So, I thiiiiink I’m ready for my own bike, y’know,” Astrid grinned, waving around a small piece of paper the size of a driver’s license - it was her learner’s permit for a motorcycle, not technically a motorcycle license yet, but state law required the permit before taking the test. And she’d taken the safety course already because she was under the age of 21, passed it with flying colors, so forth.

She’d been working on this for awhile, ever since Logan had been part of her life. Astrid was fairly sure her level of badassery increased impressively - axe lessons, riding lessons, then helping someone come back from the timestream. A young thing still, she felt almost invincible.

It was close enough and a big step. Logan grinned proudly. “Figured out if you want somethin’ sporty, somethin’ classic, or somethin’ for cruisin’, yet?” Like Kitty, she had one of those Japanese bikes that looked like lightning and moved about as fast (and Logan still didn’t know what powered it or made it run so silently.).

“Mmmm…” Man, what a question. Astrid trapped her chin thoughtfully, nose wrinkled in thought. “Something sporty,” she decided. Sporty would definitely do - something she could deck out with dragon things, a homeage to the race of creatures she was so closely linked to. Literally. “Make all the dudes on campus especially jealous, too.”

She’d already purchased a helmet for Hiccup. Hers had a blue mohawk on it and it was a thing of beauty; one of her recent splurges. She worked hard enough, saved hard enough, and even though things with Korra and Asami’s life got tough and Astrid helped as much as she could, she still needed a pick-me-up.

“All right. Figured that’s what you’d go for.” Logan walked over to his bike. “Why don’t you drive us there. I’ll give you the address.” He actually had a surprise for her when they got there - she’d have no problem getting a bike, because he was going to buy it for her.

“You get to be the chick this time on the bike, old man,” Astrid teased, grin turning into more of a mischievous smirk, and she gave him a playful shove. She had enough confidence in her abilities of not crashing the damn vehicle and setting everything on fire; she learned quick anyway, and did her best to keep up during Logan’s absence. In death she’d do him proud, but he was back and walking around and breathing and back alive. So she’d still do him proud, but this time he was actually around for it.

Her helmet went over her head, securely strapped, and she climbed onto the bike. “Ready when you are.”

She better not wreck it, he liked that bike. Logan climbed on after her, resting his hands on her waist. “Lets go, darlin’. An’ just to warn you I’m gonna be judgin’ you.” Even though he was behind her she could probably hear the smirk in his voice.

Oh, she heard it - Astrid was even tempted to jab him in the ribs with a little force behind it too. Just because he was getting there in age didn’t mean he was brittle and weak, the guy had weird metal coating his bones, right? And the claws and whatnot, he’d be fine. “Judge me all you want,” she snorted, smirking lips. “Don’t lose your panties, Logan.”

They were off, then, and Astrid was good. Absorbed everything he’d taught her and practiced as much as she could; they’d been working on this for several months anyway, and she felt like she was ready. Even had a good bit saved up for it too! It was now or never, anyway - she wasn’t going to be picking up extra shifts at the vet, because who knows if Asami or Korra or Hiccup, at this rate, had an emergency. She wanted to be there, axe-swinging in her nordic glory, as soon as possible.

The store wasn’t far ahead either, and Astrid brought the bike to a smooth stop and shut it. “So? Judge me, bub.”

“Got my panties on nice an’ tight,” he retorted. Astrid was really good. She’d practiced, he could tell, and he was proud of her. It always felt nice (and a little bittersweet) when someone he looked after could handle themselves.

“You ain’t half bad. Got the balance pretty good, an’ you know how much to play with the throttle. It’s coming naturally at this point.” He got off the bike and clasped her shoulder. “Lets take a look at these crotch rockets.”

“Half bad,” drawled the petite little Viking - her frame was awfully feminine for someone who had no problem hacking at things with an authentic Scandinavian axe. “There’s a little tear of pride in the corner of your eye, Logan, I can see it.”

Helmet now off, she combed the mess of blonde hair back into neatness, checked her pocket for her wallet, and followed him in. “Crotch rocket - you have such a nice way with words.” Astrid shook her head, biting back a grin. “Good thing that between you and Asami, I’m set with help if it ever craps out on me anyway - I should probably donate my Volkswagen Beetle to her. For scientific pursuit.”

Logan made a mock sniffling sound. “You’d seriously curse someone with that piece o’crap of yours?” Sometimes he wondered how it still ran. A wing and a prayer, for sure. “What kind color you goin’ for. Color is important. Red screams for attention. Black is always good. Yellow is kinda weird but might work for you.”

“Asami lives for this kind of thing - she’s fixing up an airship or something to live in,” Astrid assured, giving Logan’s bicep a little squeeze. “It’s been a little crazy on there end, anyway. She got tangled up with an evil green wizard - and I wish I was joking, but that really is the most accurate description - and her pops went behind bars, so she inherited the business. Korra’s--she can’t walk. Dream stuff carried over.”

It was all a mess, and she was there as much as she could be - both needed help, and she’d be there for it. “Yellow’s not bad, though.” Originally she’d gone for something blue, but yellow? More she thought about it, the more she liked it.

“An airship, really?” He didn’t know why he should be surprised. “I’ve lived on a ship before, an’ a couple other cramped places, so I hope it’s some kinda luxury ship. Cause otherwise that’s gonna get cramped.” Logan checked his pocket for cigars. “Always a bitch when dream shit comes over. Almost lost Kitty that way. Pretty sure that’s how we lost me. It...happens too much.” the mention of an evil green wizard was concernin’. “Evil green wizard? Sometimes I wish we had someone like Stephen Strange or Illyana around, just to deal with that shit. I fuckin’ hate magic.”

An airship, really. But that was Asami for you - she had the smarts and the technology and she was planning to do it. Might even pep Korra up, which is probably what she was aiming for. Fingers moved to tuck stray blond hair behind her ear as they surveyed the display of bikes - sleek and shiny things, some with thick tires and funny designs. “This place has enough magic people around - I’m sure there’s people qualified to handle it,” Astrid smirked, only for a minute. “He did a number on Asami, though. Apparently he was in cahoots with the scumbag she calls a dad, but he hasn’t made an appearance since.”

“Yeah. But sometimes it’s harder to trust the people you don’ know. Gotta give ‘em a chance. Seems to have worked out a little bit.” Logan squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll put some feelers out. See if we can track this scumbag down. All I need is a scent.”

“Don’t think we have anything that smells like him,” she said, nose wiggling at the thought. Sounded gross, but Logan did have a sensitive sniffer for that kind of thing. “But I can see.”

Now that he’d recommend a yellow one, that’s all Astrid was looking at, damn him. A yellow yamaha caught her attention, and it wasn’t a Harley or anything, but it looked decent and reliable. She tugged at Logan, motioning over. “What’cha think?”

Behold the power of suggestion. But Logan did like yellow. He had yellow spandex in his dreams. Ironically he’d never woken up to find that outfit in his closet, though he’d once found the armor that had been painted in similar colors in the closet.

“Looks like a good one to start with. Fast, but probably ain’t breakneck fast. Ridin’ one like this is a little different from a cruisier. Different muscles. Lot more emphasis on the thighs. Sit on it.”

Astrid didn’t need anything that would break her neck anyway - if she wanted exhilarating speed, she’d hop on Stormfly and ride the skies. Nothing could compare to that, not even a motorcycle, but it wasn’t like she had the liberty to ride her own personal dragon on a constant and functional basis. “I’ve got Viking thunder thighs,” she announced proudly, lips quirked smug, and she draped a leg over it and mounted the bike.

It felt nice. Soft on her butt and she squeezed the handles, because ohmygod yesmine. And then she spotted the pricetag.

“Uh….nevermind, let’s find something else.”

“No comment,” Logan said. He knew better than to mention ‘thunder’ and any woman’s body part in the same sentence. Even if they did say it themselves! “What’s wrong with it.” Logan folded his arms, because he knew the look someone had when they’d fallen in love after plopping their butt onto a bike.

Astrid was fit, there wasn’t shame in it - and training in dealing with weaponry with Logan had also exercised plenty of other muscles. She wasn’t a bulking Scandinavian by any means, but she could handle her own and her thighs were great, thanks. “Pricy,” she said, shoulders rolling into a shrug. Probably because it was brand spankin’ new, and she pointed over to the other side. “They’ve got some used ones there we can check out? Probably wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg.”

“Darlin’, I have enough money to buy an’ furnish a large school for a year or two, I think we can get you a bike you’re in love with. I owe you a Christmas present, remember? Save your money for a nice outfit or a custom paint job.” What, he watched Counting Cars. Some of those paint jobs were spiffy.

Well, okay, that caught her off guard - enough that she gave Logan and wide-eyed look before squinting skeptically. “Uh…” Let’s hope no one else heard that, and she surveyed the store before placing her attention back at the apparently very loaded Wolverine. “How did you get that much money, exactly? And you still somehow live in that super tiny place you call an apartment?”

Better than his shop, anyway - she missed that place. Did they ever catch who was responsible for that entire mess? Geez, cops around here were incompetent.

“In my dreams I’m like a hundred an’ eighty, remember? It built up over time. An’ one day I got the bank account from the dreams.” He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I do a lotta donatin’ so that the taxes ain’t a problem. Fuck, interest takes care of the taxes. So lets get you this bike, darlin’.”

Oh, right, rich by age, wasn’t he? Those stormy eyes blinked wide again, as if she was clearing the confusion from her vision, and then she scrunched her face and scratched her head and looked about awkwardly. “Okay,” Astrid finally decided, and then directed her finger at him with a stubborn point. “But I’ll put what I saved up first. And you--you can pay the difference. So I won’t feel so bad about it, got it?”

Logan tilted his head. “Put up 3/4th, save the rest for registration an’ shit, and new saddle bags. Half the fun of a new bike is gettin’ shit for it.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

He drove a hard bargain, didn’t he? Astrid’s arms crossed over her chest as she contemplated hard, a ‘hmmm’ to go with her thoughts. Part of her told her that if he really wanted to buy her the bike, he’d buy it even if she told him ‘no’ anyway. Not like Logan usually listened, and she did want the bike…

Damnit.

Then she sighed, defeated, and stepped forward, taking his hand for a tight squeeze and a smirk. “Fine. Deal.”

A huge grin crossed Logan’s face, and he squeezed her hand back. “Come on, lets get you a motorcycle an’ then I’ll race you home.”