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Scott was tired and needed a good rest. His arm was bandaged up and the night sky was beautiful. There was a throaty growl of a motorcycle coming up on the mansion. Logan fumbled with his keys as he tucked it away in his pocket. He never wore a helmet when riding a motorcycle, he thought there was no need for it.
He pushed open the large wooden doors of the Professor’s school and walked to the kitchen. His footsteps echoed through the hallways, walking past paintings and detailed wallpaper of some sort of flower.
It was awfully quiet, the other X-Men have gone on a mission, only Scott and a few others remained to make sure the children were safe. He then spotted the man with glasses and a bandaged arm. He pulled a beer out of the fridge and chuckled. “Aren’t you gonna welcome me home?”
“Not bothered,” Scott replied as he flicked through the channels on the TV. Logan laughed again at the reply, always witty, always wonderful. He turned to look up at him, “where’d you go anyway?”
“Just for a drive,” he lied, walking towards him “scoot over, Slim. I’m sittin’ next to ya,” Scott moved over to give him room. Slim was his nickname, he doesn’t know why Logan does it, he just did. If he was honest, it makes him smile.
He was dreadfully tired, after a whole day of teaching classes and training in the danger room – he just wanted to sleep. Logan set his jacket on one of the island stools. “Have you been sitting here the whole time?” he asked. The younger man nodded sadly.
“Haven’t been able to sleep since…” he couldn’t find the words. Jean died a couple of months ago, and it’s taken a toll on him.
He hasn’t been able to get proper rest. Logan knows this all too well, he’s seen the man stay up all night to keep himself away from nightmares. He knows the feeling. The feeling of fearing; going back to sleep and then seeing the horrors of your past. “Me too, we all haven’t been able to,” he reassured him. He took a deep breath, then took a long sip of his cold beer. Scott didn’t understand why he liked the drink, alcohol is a depressant. Not to mention beer is bitter.
He wrung his hands together as Logan switched to a late-night show, featuring some famous singers. “Seriously though,” he said, touching his bandaged arm “where did you go?”
“Nowhere,” he replied. It wasn’t no-where. Alkali Lake. Where Jean died, where they held each other for the first time and cried. Cried because they lost her. They both have been affected when Jean died. It was sad to see someone you love go. Poof from existence and never return. Scott, however, has it worse. “I heard you mumble her name in your sleep,” he raised. The man didn’t reply, he only looked at the ground “you’re haunted by the psychic...connection, yeah?”
“Yeah…” he answered sadly. He tapped his foot against the floor nervously. He wants to do something so he can sleep. He wants to sleep, so badly but something is stopping him.
“Can’t sleep, right?” he said, looking at the wrinkles and bags under his eyes. Even with the red-tinted glasses he could still see it.
“You know me so well,” he said sarcastically.
“But...I do.” Logan smiled as if it was an obvious answer finishing his beer and putting it on the coffee table.
“I know you’re one point eight metres tall,” he poked his arm gently, getting a small wince from the tender bruise and pain “sorry – I know that you’re ripped, I’ve seen you shirtless, Cyke. Not to mention that you have a brother called Alex.”
“Those are...obvious,” he replied, rubbing his face tiredly “you don’t know me. Just like how I don’t know you.” It was true, Scott didn’t know a lot about Logan. Apart from that he had metal bones, anger issues, memory issues and was short.
“It’s getting late,” Logan looked at his watch. It was almost midnight. “I think it’s time we go to bed.” he began to start walking but Scott reached out and tugged at his shirt.
“N-No!” he exclaimed. The man turned around and smiled. He blushed in embarrassment. He put his hands on his hips.
“No?” he had a playful smile, almost amused at the reaction.
“No,” he said quietly, he blushed “you both know we can’t sleep. We might as well…”
“You want me to stay,” Logan said, satisfied with his conclusion. The man in front of him swallowed nervously, God yes, he wanted Logan to stay. He wanted Logan. He then sat down and smiled. “How cute.” he grinned. He didn’t know how to reply to that. He doesn’t think this was a proper reason to make him stay.
“I thought you would resist,” he admitted shyly. He pressed his hands together, the TV was still going and the night sky was still up. Everything was quiet between the two of them.
Logan put his arm around him, “how could I resist you?” his face turned red, almost as red as his glasses at the comment. He then loosened up.
“Logan,” he chuckled. He shuffled closer, his eyes felt heavy and he rested his head on his shoulder. “Stay here,” he said softly. Logan’s cheeks heated up at this feeling, this feeling of holding him in his arms and making sure he was alright. “Of course,” he replied. He never really had a ‘soft side’ - there wasn’t really anything that mattered to him; romantically. Until Jean. Jean was beautiful and kind, now he can see why she would be with him.
Fuck, he’s cute. After a while, they were on top of each other, sound asleep and content. The TV was turned off, it was just them. Scott hadn’t had a ‘just them’ for a really long time. Then, there was a stirring in the back of his brain. A calling. A voice. Jean’s voice. Scott! it echoed, it rang in him like a loud bell - and it wouldn’t stop. Scott why did you leave me!
“No,” he groaned. Logan felt him stir, he felt his body shiver under the vision of his nightmare.
“Slim,” he gently shook him “Scott…”
“Jean, please! Don’t leave me!” he mumbled, the pain and hurt were suffocating him “Jean!” he cried. He jolted awake to see Logan next to him. He breathed slowly carefully. The older man stroked his back carefully.
“Deep breaths Scott. You’ll be okay.” he could feel Scott’s tears dampen his shirt as he curls up tighter to his chest. He heard him whimper and it broke his heart “just a nightmare,” he said softly. He could feel his heartbeat and hear his breathing “just a nightmare Scott. It’s okay, I’m here.”
He looked up to see Logan’s face, for once it was a comforting sight rather than an annoying one. “Thank you, Logan.” waking up in his arms was something unexpected, but a welcome one to be sure.
“It’s okay,” he reassured. Holding him closer, careful not to take any more damage to his arm, “we’re going to be okay.”
“I miss her, Logan,” he mumbled.
“I understand, we all do.” He smiled at those words, letting the older man hold him. The rest of the night was calm, peaceful and content. They were grateful to have each other - here in the moment. He knew that as long as he had his support, they were going to be okay. They were better because of it. “Welcome home,” Scott smiled, kissing him gently as they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Safe and sound.