Work Text:
Just Seeing You Makes Me Smile
It was a lazy autumn evening. The sun was setting, the leaves were turning, the scent of snow was in the air, and there was a marathon of the Golden Girls that had been going on since early that morning. At the beginning Morph had planted themself on the couch with an array of munchies and beer that did nothing to them and refused to move. They would have gladly lit up a joint to complete their couch potato session, but they knew Scott would have a conniption if they lit up in the house, or if he so much as smelled it outside. When it came to paraphernalia, Scott had a nose as good as Wolverine’s it seemed. “This is a school, not a crack den,” he’d say, arms crossed like a disappointed father.
Morph didn’t have the time of day to define the differences between weed and crack to Scott, nor did they have interest in it. They lit up in the trees beyond the pool halfway through the marathon and then wandered back inside. There they shifted out of uniform to the least amount of clothes they could get away with wearing while Papa Scott was in the house.
Throughout the day, several of the X-Men had come and gone from the viewing party. In the end, though, there was only Morph. They had made it to their eleventh hour of the show, munching away on pickle flavored chips when they heard the back door slam, and a rumbling grumbling Wolverine storm his way through the hallway. It wasn’t long before the man appeared beside the couch, rugged and growling, his suit torn to shreds, most of the damage being the upper half, which there wasn’t much left of. “Woah-ho, what happened to you? Get mauled by a few tigers?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” the Wolverine growled back. He tossed away his boots and collapsed onto the couch, his head in Morph’s lap, his arms crossed, and he buried his face in the shifter’s stomach.
“Aw, did the big bad Wolverine have a lousy day?” Morph teased, wide grin as they clicked open a beer for their poor battered Canadian.
“I said I don’t wanna talk about it.” He grabbed the beer and raised his head to take a deep glug of it.
“That’s okay, I don’t wanna hear about it”
Logan shot back up to his feet, nearly knocking Morph’s own drink from their hand before he started pacing the floor. “That blasted Sabretooth keeps popping up with no rhyme or reason, finding me out, and scrappin’ with me when I’m just mindin’ my own business.”
“The nerve,” Morph muttered in reply, a smirk on their lips as they watched Logan vent about the room.
“And then, when I’m finally landin’ the cripplin’ blow, the guy up and runs for the hills.” Logan took a moment to take down five more swallows of his brew, wiped his face with a gloved hand and continued. “I don’t know how he does it, but I lose his scent every single time!”
“Slippery pussycat, eh?” Morph sipped their drink, grin growing as they repositioned themself on the couch, arm laying over the back, their cheek leaning on their hand.
“And what’s he even doing around here anyway? Last I heard he was chasin off Wendigos in Ontario, yet here is, buggin the hell outta me again.”
Morph chuckled, at this point resigned to let the Golden Girls carry on without him for he was completely invested in Logan’s woes; Moreso Logan’s outburst of his woes. “Are you two married?” they dared to tease, that wicked little grin playing on their lips.
Logan practically choked on his next swallow of beer, and felt a gush of it flow up and down into his nose. That was unpleasant. Morph giggled and Logan snarled back.
“Let me rephrase that. Are you two divorced? There’s just so much tension between you guys, I mean, I wouldn’t put it past—"
Logan slammed the now empty beer can onto the nearest end table, disrupting a potted plant. “Sabretooth is a god damn blasted bane on my existence.”
The shapeshifter shrugged, drank their beer, widened their grin. “Ah at least he’s a cute bane.”
This flabbergasted the other mutant beyond words and his face scrunched up in some amalgamation of disgust, confusion, and anger. There was no word he could find to aptly respond to Morph’s confounding statement, so he shook his head and walked around the couch, past Morph and to another beer, stuffed his face with a handful of chips on his way.
“What I’m not allowed to think the psychotic cat man is hot? The real question is: do I find him more attractive than Tigra? Hmm, now that is a conundrum.” Morph sipped the last of their beer and looked thoughtfully up to the ceiling, as if they were contemplating the comparison between the two feliney people.
Logan wasn’t even going to entertain Morph’s jokes. He was too riled up and angry. “If I ever see Sabretooth again I’ll—” As soon as he turned back towards Morph the shifter had shifted into that which he so vehemently despised at the current time.
The form of Sabretooth lounged on the couch looking up at him with lustful eyes and a toothy grin, their fangs catching the light. He even leant against the arm of the couch, face in his palms, and he blew a kiss up to the already growling Wolverine.
The growling Wolverine popped his claws, the tips just barely grazing the bottom of Sabretooth’s chin. “Keep getting cheeky Morph, and I’ll fill ya full of holes.”
The toothy grin only grew, and they giggled a Sabretooth giggle. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, runt.” Slowly they pulled their chin away from Logan’s claws, only to flick their tongue under the tip of the middle one, then lightly grab it between their teeth, all the while giving Logan a very amorous gaze.
He should have been fuming, should have been roaring his objections to the Sabretooth leisurely laying themselves out before him, kicking his feet in the air as he slid his own claw up Logan’s. The Wolverine…just couldn’t bring himself to pitch a fit. That tidal wave of vitriol and repugnance that had been crashing against him since he’d begun his trek home was giving way to a much cooler surf, and he found himself smiling back, a bit more predatory than Morph was, but no less invested in their soon-to-be play. “Careful you don’t lose your tongue, cupcake.”
Morph pulled off the claw and reverted back to their base form. They sat up on their knees, pushed their forehead against Logan’s and gave him another wicked grin. “No worse than what you could lose, kitten.”
Logan’s claws followed them, resting just under their chin. He bared his teeth and Morph copied it, literally, their teeth shifting to mimic Logan’s fangs. Morph grabbed a shred of what was left of Logan’s suit at his chest, and Logan grabbed Morph’s wrist, and just as they were about to partake in a playful scrap about the living room—
“Freeze Mister!” Scott came marching into the room, fast as a man could walk through a living room, brandishing a water bottle. Why Scott had a water bottle in his hand was beyond Logan and Morph and the pair were rather confused at the device, until Scott aimed it straight at their faces and gave them a few spritzes.
Logan hissed in response, swatting his claws in self-defense but Scott saw the swipe coming, evaded and continued to scold them. “Stop it! Whatever it is you two are getting into, I will not have it destroying the living room, again. Take it outside.” He pointed the water bottle towards the nearest exit before turning from his housemates and tending to the potted plants, giving them each a few sprays of water themselves.
“To the jeep?” Morph whispered to Logan, sure to swipe their thumb slowly over their lip, now wet and dripping.
Logan rubbed his face off less sensually than Morph, frustrated once again. “It uh…Sabretooth mighta put it in the shop.”
“Logan,” Morph said with exaggerated disappointment.
“It’s not my fault he threw me into the tire so hard it bent the rim, and the axle…”
“So that’s what happened to you,” said Scott over his shoulder. “Why am I not surprised.”
Logan bared his teeth at Scott’s back. Morph shook their head and grabbed Logan’s suit again to pull him closer. “How about Scott’s car?”
Scott turned around immediately. “What about my car?”
Morph rolled their eyes. “I said, ‘how about the bar,’ Scott. I know you love your cute little hot rod but it’s not always about you.”
Scott was utterly and speechlessly confused, brows knitting together so hard they were practically lost behind his glasses. He couldn’t even ask any questions because Morph was pushing Logan away, morphing into a leopard to leap over him, then shifting back into base form in time to run from Wolverine who was immediately on their heels.
“Outside!” Scott called after them. There was mild reassurance thrown his way when Morph yelled back that that was “definitely” where they were both going. Scott raised an eyebrow at that after seeing Logan had completely forgotten his boots.