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With a low, frustrated sigh, Logan shifted in his chair, and took a surreptitious glance at the clock on the far wall. They should be back within the hour and it’s not like he had much else to do on a Saturday. He took a long swig from the beer bottle.
It had been nearly a week since Blue Team had left for San Francisco. A long, miserable, empty week, that felt like the longest week of his life, and Logan had had plenty of time to go over and over and over his decisions. Each time he did, he became less sure of his reasoning. Should he have said something, before the team left? Should he have sat Scotty down and gotten everything out in the open? Should they have talked? They never put what had been growing between them into words. What if Scott didn’t know?
Logan’s biggest problem, when he thought about it “calmly”, wasn’t that Scott was away. Because there was nothing necessarily bad about Scott being away. He’d been on a couple of low key missions since getting back in the saddle after the funeral.
But Slim wasn’t on his own this time. He was not on the mission with Logan - the only one in the whole fucking X-Mansion who had seemingly given any sort of shit about Slim’s health and mental well-being over the past ten months since the shit-show at the Lake - no, Logan was stuck back at home, kicking his heals and corralling rugrats.
Was Scott with the sensible X-Men, who would listen to his plans and follow his lead? Who would keep everything mission-focus and calm? People like Beast or Kurt or Ororo?
No. No, he was not.
Was he out on a mission with the worst X-Men possible?
With Bobby… Mr Fun Jokester with a nearly non-existent boredom threshold who had repeatedly tried to drag Scott out to bars and clubs “for his own good”.
With Emma… The Ice Queen herself who had clocked Summers the moment she’d stepped her perfectly perky, coiffured ass into the Mansion.
And with Warren… (Logan could never contain the growl when he thought the name) Warren Worthington III, Angel, as close to physical perfection as it was possible to be; rich, sophisticated, and with a long friendship with all the X-Men except Logan.
Everything about those three people set alarm bells and fireworks off inside Logan’s head. And of course those were the three who were with Scott on the West Coast. On some level, if felt like everyone had all been sniffing around Summers, although with Bobby it was probably less deliberate and more of a subconscious response to Slim’s perfect bone structure. The Ice-Queen wore the lust like a perfume, giving superior smirks every time Logan walked by. Warren was continually trying to find an excuse to cut into their training regime or come out to play pool with them. Even the damn Swamp Rat wasn’t above checking Slim out, every goddamn morning at breakfast.
Obviously, Logan got it. That was the whole fucking point. He couldn’t do anything but notice the nice sharp cheekbones, full lips, the wide warm smile (that you saw twice a year), the nice ass (they’d all looked). Now Slim also had a crippling, terrifying vulnerability that peeped through the razor-thin cracks in his self control every so often and it had been that, more than anything else that had drawn Logan in.
After the team had left, Logan had lumbered around the Mansion feeling out of sync for the whole week they were away. Everything about it put his teeth on edge and made him feel like he was continually walking around with two thousand volts shooting through his skeleton. He was miserable. Worse than that, he was bored. Bored senseless by the lack of Scott to interact with.
In the months since the destruction at Alkali Lake, a routine had developed, slowly. First, Logan had managed to tempt Scott out of his self-imposed isolation by badgering him into coming to the new danger room for a “test”. That had worked the first time, then once a week, once every couple of days, then eventually every evening after dinner. Then they’d added the runs. Leveraging a little bit of “friendly” competition. And boy, could Slim shift if he put his mind to it. Logan won, even with the adamantium, but Scott slowly gained muscle and ground over the months. They’d added gym sessions after Scott asked Logan to spot him; trips to the local bar to play pool and drink beer; the occasional flaming argument when Logan decided he wasn’t going to follow the rules.
Good times, Logan mused, pointedly trying to ignore the clock. It was just what Slim had needed and-
The thought stalled. His enhanced hearing picked up the faintest whirr of the Blackbird, far off to the east. Even though Logan felt a surge of anticipation, he didn’t move. It was comfortable, he had a beer. Besides, he wasn’t going to go running down to the hanger and make an ass of himself, especially not in from of Emma or Wings.
Although the sound of jet engines grew louder, Logan kept waiting. Around him, the occasional kid drifted past, life in the School going on as usual.
At last, maybe half an hour after Logan had first heard the jet, the elevator opened and the four members of Blue Team appeared in the hallway. Bobby led the way, waving at Logan when he saw him, with Emma and Wings following after, and they both ignored Logan completely. Scott was at the back, head held rigid, looking exactly the same as he had done when he’d softly said goodbye a week before. He noticed Logan, and they made direct eye-contact. Logan knew that because of the thrill of connection he always felt, even though Slim’s eyes were constantly covered. But he didn’t stop, none of them did, they all went straight along the hallway, and into the Professor’s office.
The door closed behind them and Logan huffed. After a week, what an anti-climax. But surely Chuck wouldn’t keep them too long this time?
That hope died slowly. And Logan kept waiting.
Bobby appeared first, a hour or so later, giving Logan another cheerful wave before heading off to see his friends, probably with outlandish stories from their mission. Wings was next, a half-hour after that, closely followed by Emma, both of them had this identical smug and infuriating calmness about them.
Logan kept waiting. The kids ebbed and flowed around him, dinner came and went, and still no Slim. No chance for a quick spar in the gym, a quick mission in the Danger Room, a quick beer on the roof. No contact at all. No company. No Scott. He’d had no Scott in his life for a whole week.
The evening wore on, and Logan was eventually forced to admit defeat. Even if the debrief finished, Scott was going to be exhausted and want to head back to his room to rest. There was no reason for Logan to stay hanging around here. He’d just have to wait until tomorrow to see Scott.
Dejected, Logan walked away, his footsteps sounding heavy on the stairs up to the landing, shutting the door with a thud. Then he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was always like this, Slim goes on missions and Chuck debriefs him for hours. Why had he hoped this time would be different?
What was he going to say to Scott anyway?
They never really talked, but maybe they should, clear the air, get some indication of what each other was thinking. Slim could be as readable and emotional as a granite slab, just like Logan could. Maybe something had gone wrong somewhere along the way. A knot formed in Logan’s chest. Maybe Scott thought that Logan wasn’t interested, he was never that open about how he was feeling, and maybe Emma or Warren had taken their chance and made a move while they were out of the Mansion.
The thoughts went round in Logan’s head, frustration building in him. Goddamn Summers! He was so closed off! He should have understood.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Logan was jerked out of his thoughts by the sound of familiar footsteps coming up the stairs. Logan grunted. What was the point…
The thought died when the footsteps stopped outside his room and there was a soft rap on his door. Logan was there in an instant, yanking the door open with a little more force than strictly necessary.
Scott stood there, a slight smile on his face, his rucksack still slung over his shoulder making it clear that he’d not gone to his own room before stopping by Logan’s. The thought made Logan feel a rush of warmth, his senses overwhelmed by the familiar scent and sight of the man he’d missed so desperately.
The worry and doubt that had been plaguing Logan vanished as they stared at each other, eye to visor. There was no need to ask, no need to do anything but finish what they’d started.
They both moved forward, towards each other, in perfect synchronisation. No hesitation, no caution, and their lips met in a glorious kiss, a kiss that ignited something in them both that could never be quenched. Scott grabbed at Logan’s shoulders as Logan slid his arm round Scott’s waist, keeping each other close, their lips never apart as Logan dragged a willing Scott inside his room and shoved the door shut. Scott’s rucksack hit the floor with a thud, and still neither of them would give way or stop.
They stumbled towards the bed, passion rising with every passing moment. Logan had the fleeting thought that perhaps there was more to say. Then that thought vanished. They were always like this together, actions not words. Maybe that was the way it was always going to be.
Maybe they could talk tomorrow.
But probably not.
end