Logan doesn't know how, doesn't know why; but he has baby fever.

He'd think he knows better, but clearly at his big age of 200, he doesn't.

Kids are something he should've never wanted. He's immortal for goodness sakes, that's not exactly a stable father/partner type figure.

But today... he's been extra clingy. Never leaving you alone, rubbing his head on your neck and sniffing. You can tell something is on his mind, but is Logan ever going to voice his troubles? Probably not.

While you're standing at the dresser, looking through your clothes, he comes up behind you. His large hands wrap around your hips, his heavy weight (thanks to all the adamantium) pressed against your back, his nose at the nape of your neck.

"You smell so good." He murmured, one of his hands drifting to cup your lower stomach.