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“Stay still!” Hank hissed, heart up in his throat and slamming behind his ribs, racing so hard he couldn’t even hear his own breathing over the way each beat of his heart was echoing in his ears.
He slid his thumbs over the ridges of Logan’s rib cage, carefully feeling over each bone to ensure it was whole. Logan’s skin was burning hot under his fingertips, running even warmer than Hank and causing goosebumps to rise along his arms because of the intimate contact. He ignored them, focusing on the task at hand: making sure that Logan was okay after one of the Danger Room bots had gone haywire and slammed Logan into a wall with so much force the resulting crack of countless bones had echoed through the suddenly silent room.
Hank took a deep breath and forced that memory away. Now wasn’t the time to think about it, not when he needed to be focusing on Logan. He could fix whatever the hell had gone wrong later, when he was certain that Logan was completely alright. Despite how it felt to be brushing the pads of his thumbs across Logan’s freckled skin, he forced himself to think clinically, pushing away everything that wasn’t making sure his patient was fully healed.
Which may have been redundant, sure. Hank knew the other man had a very quick healing factor, but... during the entire time it had taken him to shut down the Danger Room and get from the control centre to where Logan was hunched over and lifeless, all he’d been able to think about was that somehow he’d killed him.
And sure, he cared about him, but Hank cared about everyone at the school, staff and students alike. He hadn’t expected that just the very possibility that something had happened to him would have Hank’s blood running ice-cold, heart frozen, breath caught in his throat. The surge of emotions had hit him harder than he’d expected only to be replaced with a dizzying amount of relief when he’d checked Logan’s pulse and found that he was breathing.
Logan had been unconscious when Hank had first gotten to him, slumped over himself and limbs angled in ways they absolutely should not have been angled. The fact that he had been out cold was a testament to how hard he’d been thrown into the wall. Hank had been careful when he'd picked him up, even more careful as he'd carried Logan from the Danger Room to the medical bay. Logan had woken up along the way and had nearly knocked Hank out with a flying fist before he’d realized he was being carried and who was carrying him, at which point he’d—predictably—made an inappropriate comment.
And now Hank was just trying to make sure he was alright, but God, was Logan making it overwhelmingly difficult.
“Ya know I’ve already healed, right?” Logan asked him with a dirty smirk that Hank pretended not to notice as he kept working.
“And what if something healed wrong?” Hank snapped at him, worry bleeding into agitation when Logan moved again—spreading his legs obscenely and shifting on the stool he was supposed to be sitting still on. “Stop moving!”
“C’mon, blue, you know there ain’t nothin’ wrong with me,” Logan told him, leering at Hank when he shifted to start feeling the other side of Logan’s chest. “We both know you just wanted to get me undressed, stop denyin’ it, pretty boy.”
“Can you just let me take care of you!” Hank yelled, taking a heaving breath and blowing it out slowly through his nose, trying to let his anger blow out with it.
Logan looked chagrined and he finally stopped moving. Hank’s relief was short-lived, though, as he hung his head forward and squeezed his eyes shut, assaulted again and again with the memory of Logan getting flung into a wall at ungodly speeds all because he hadn’t double-checked his work. Each time he closed his eyes he could hear Logan’s bones crunching, perfectly recalling the way it had echoed through the silent room and all the way up to the control centre.
Logan was hurt because of him.
He felt his shoulders curl even further inwards, and his next breath was weak. “Please, just... just let me take care of you, okay?” Hank asked desperately, looking up at Logan with as much pleading in his expression as he could muster.
Thankfully, Logan nodded without any further ridiculous commentary. Hank continued checking down Logan’s left side, feeling over his ribs and ignoring the rather pleasing sight of Logan without a shirt—while Hank would have never hurt Logan on purpose, the view was certainly nothing to complain about, which only made his teasing more annoying.
Pushing that away, Hank forced himself to focus on the task at hand and nothing else. Once he was certain that none of Logan’s ribs were broken, he grabbed his stethoscope to make sure Logan’s breathing was fine, and once he was confident that it was, he felt his entire body drain of the tension he’d been wearing like a second skin, which caused him to stumble forwards. He caught himself on Logan’s thigh, squeezing the skin under his hand as his eyes started watering with relief.
He took a deep breath that smelled like Logan and himself, like them, and took another deep, greedy breath of air to get more of it.
Logan covered the hand on his thigh with his own and Hank’s heart started racing as his eyes caught on the contrast between their skin. He couldn’t look away. “Ain’t even gonna buy me dinner before gropin’ me, darlin’?” Logan asked him with a pout Hank flicked his eyes up to see before dropping them back to where Logan’s tanned thumb was brushing over Hank’s much paler knuckles, which caused his cheeks to heat up even more.
He looked up and said, “Logan,” in a tone of voice that he’d hoped would have Logan cracking a joke but instead just had him smiling a wider and dirtier smile.
Logan chuckled, which was just plain rude, really, and asked, “I’m all good, aren’t I, Doc?”
“Yes, Logan, you’re all good,” Hank admitted, and then sucked in a surprised breath when Logan grabbed his hip with his free hand and tugged him much closer in between his still-obscenely-spread thighs.
“C’mon, Doc, lemme give you a proper thankin’?” Logan asked him in a drawl that caused Hank’s cheeks to warm.
He was about to sputter out a protest when Logan tilted his head up, his breath hitting Hank’s chin. They were close enough that Hank’s eyes fluttered closed after his pupils crossed. He took a shaky breath, feeling his heartbeat against his ribs as he tried to figure out what was going on, how he’d gotten here, how to get out of here when—
Logan’s lips were gentle against his own. For all the times that he’d imagined them kissing—and God had he imagined it—he’d never imagined anything so careful. His grip went iron tight around Logan’s thigh as the hand that had been covering it moved to his other hip, pulling him impossibly closer until their thighs were pressing together and Hank couldn't get any nearer.
As Logan’s lips moved against his own, Hank was shocked stupid at just how careful the kiss was. Logan kissed him like he was trying to learn him and Hank couldn’t stop the way he whimpered and kissed back desperately. The hand not clutching Logan’s thigh landed on his side, digging his bitten-down nails into Logan’s skin as his heart raced and his stomach knotted up and pleasure curled his toes.
It was a while before he pulled back, lost in wave after wave of pure delight caused by Logan’s mouth finally pressed against his own. He sucked in a quick breath and then pressed back in for more, tilting his head to the side and shifting the angle of their joined lips, flicking his tongue out to brush over Logan’s upper lip. Logan groaned lowly, a noise so animalistic that Hank felt a shiver run down his spine as his skin erupted into goosebumps and he whined into Logan’s mouth.
“L-Logan,” Hank sputtered breathlessly, pulling back and then swaying forward to chase more of that feeling.
Before he could press their lips together, Logan drew back enough that their mouths were only barely brushing but their foreheads were still resting together. He squeezed Hank’s hips in a motion that was far more comforting than it ought to be, and Hank didn’t dare open his eyes.
“That was just a thanks for savin’ me,” Logan told him.
Foolishly, Hank’s heart sunk to his feet. Of course Logan didn’t actually want him. The man was a flirt, but that didn’t mean he was into Hank or wanted him in any of the ways that he desperately tried not to want Logan. Just as he was trying to dredge up the power to pull back and shamefully walk away, Logan let out a long breath that ghosted over Hank’s bottom lip and made him shiver before he said, “‘N this,” then kissed him so hard his toes curled in his loafers, before he pulled back just enough to say, “was ‘cause I’ve been wantin’ to do this for months.”
Hank felt a little dizzy with desire, but he figured if Logan had been waiting months... well, there was certainly a lot of kissing to catch up on.
With a grin, he leaned in to press their lips together sweetly, ready to start playing catch-up.