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The x-men were gathering back in the teacher’s lounge to relax after a long day. They’d had a bad run in with the MRD when bringing in a few new students and they were pooped. Logan, having finished showering and changing first, had gotten to choose what they watched. So, he slouched in his designated recliner watching a hockey game play on the TV as the others slowly spilled into the lounge as well.
Hank was the first to join him this time, too tired to even think of his latest experiment. Him and Logan made engaging commentary about the game as the others joined, only paying partial attention. Scott and Jean took refuge on the couch opposite of Logan. Jean lay across the couch with her head resting in Scotts lap, who took to gently brushing her hair in a soothing manner. She’d pulled an incredible stunt on the MRD during their escape that resulted in a headache from telekinetic-overuse.
Rogue joined next, sitting with Scott and Jean on the big couch. She scooped up Jean’s legs and plopped underneath, still allowing the other to stretch across the whole couch. She joined in the sports commentary, being the only other person interested in hockey—a side effect of being close with Logan, apparently.
“Ugh, hockey again?” Kitty groaned, walking in during the second period.
“Got here first, Pryde,” Logan smirked back.
“Maybe you need to take longer showers,” she huffed. Despite her grumbling, Kitty still dropped next to Hank on the middle couch. In her half awake state, she leaned heavily onto Hank, scrolling on her phone mindlessly. The x-men had quickly learned how comfortable Hank was, and he never minded the affection from his friends, even when used as a pillow.
“Oh, man, how much did I miss?” Kurt asked as he walked in, two beers in hand. He tended to be the last to join, his fur took a while to dry off even using a blow dryer.
“Not much,” Hank smiled kindly at him over the couch, “it’s been quite an uneventful game.”
“Second period, still 0 ‘n 0,” Logan grumbled.
Kitty glanced over to Kurt now as he hopped over the back of the couch, taking the spot next to her and nearest to Logan—And did a double take when she noticed his outfit.
“What are you wearing?” Kitty asked bluntly, her brain too sleep-addled for any decorum.
Kurt paused his movement to hand Logan the second beer, looking down at himself then at Kitty with a sheepish expression. He was wearing loose pajama pants and a black undershirt with an oversized yellow and black flannel. Kurt didn’t wear yellow, and he didn’t own any flannels that she knew of (of course she looked through his closet many times—she was always trying to fix her teammates poor fashion tastes).
“Ah, when I came down here I was colder than expected. I found this in the kitchen and put it on,” Kurt hurried to explain, then turned back to Logan, who took to staring unabashedly at the others' clothing. It was a half assed excuse for a man literally covered in fur. “I’m sorry, Logan, I should have asked! I can change—”
“It’s fine,” Logan huffed, still not moving his gaze from Kurt’s slightly exposed chest. The shirt really was too big for Kurt. He wasn’t a small man and he had some height on Logan, but brute strength was Wolverine’s thing, that’s for sure. He kind of liked how Kurt drowned in his clothes. And he really liked that the shirt made Kurt smell like him. “Just keep it, Elf.”
Kurt smiled brightly at the other. He wasn’t sure if he meant keep it on for now or keep it forever, but he was willing to test his limits on that timeline, so he got cozier on the couch and focused back on the game.
Kitty still stared at them with confusion, then tossed a glance over to where Rogue was smirking. Hank politely kept his focus on the game.
It became a regular thing after that, Kurt taking the shirt as his own for an indefinite amount of time. When they were at home, not teaching their students or out rescuing innocent mutants (and non-mutants, too, of course), Kurt would wear the flannel. It became a sleep-shirt of sorts.
Kurt loved the material. Of Logan’s flannels, this yellow one had always been his favorite. The colors went well with Logan’s dark hair and tanned skin, and the fabric was soft to the touch. He couldn’t resist when he’d seen it in the kitchen and slipped it on, but he would resist its eventual return to the rightful owner.
So, when Kurt finally slipped it back in Logan’s laundry—it no longer smelled of the other man and was due for a wash—he did so begrudgingly. He felt a little colder as he walked the hallways after that.
When he saw Logan wearing it a week later, he’d resisted pouting about it. While Kurt’s chest filled with warmth at the sight of Logan in clothes he’d been wearing, he also felt longing for the article of clothing. It was a bit ridiculous, he thought, how attached he’d grown to it in such a short time. Not to mention it was never his to begin with.
Still, when the shirt was once again left stretched across a chair in the kitchen, Logan having gone off who-knows-where and leaving it behind, Kurt was quick to snatch it up again.
Ja! I’ve got to be careful, before I make a habit of this, Kurt told himself. Well, Logan hasn’t complained yet.
Logan, obviously, had caught on to this. And no way in hell was he gonna stop the fuzzy elf. So what if that was his favorite flannel? It really did look better on Kurt. And if his eyes wandered over the blue mutants frame a few seconds too long whenever he walked past in that shirt, well, who could blame him?