Chapter Text
The mornings seemed to find him earlier and earlier these days. Perhaps it was his feral nature that made him restless in the morning sun and told him to either rise or find a darker place to slink into to hide from the light. But the only darker place these days seemed to be his own mind and heart.
He was in the staff kitchen this morning before anyone else, sitting at the window seat, a ball of stiff muscles, unkempt hair, unshaven face and blood shot eyes, his second cup of coffee getting cold in his hands. Hank had been gone for a month, and his absence seemed painfully marked to Wolverine.
Without him, Logan had fallen back into his reclusive ways, talking little and to no one save a few casual words with his favorite students. He spent whatever time he was not bodily trapped by some “team exercise” on his own in the woods surrounding the mansion, wandering and listless, or heading into town, getting staggeringly drunk before making his way home and passing out wherever was convenient.
It was growing concern for the entire team, though Logan ignored their gentle inquires and advice. Charles attempted to speak with Logan at length just yesterday, voicing his concern that Logan might be falling into depression. The feral had humored him; listened and answered his questions as best he could manage without giving much away. He did owe Charles, and he was grateful to the man. But Xavier wasn’t his master, and Logan was too stubborn to admit that he was struggling.
He always wanted to be alone to lick his wounds in privacy. But he couldn’t escape one very solid fact about himself; he was a solitary creature by habit, not nature. He needed somebody, even if he was loath to admit it.
He just started to doze then, the warm sunlight streaming through the east facing window making him comfortable and drowsy. The coffee cup almost slipped from his hand, but another reached out and caught it.
“You’re really just an oversized house cat,” a warm voice said in his ear, making him blink suddenly. “You’re aware of this, aren’t you?”
Logan found himself blinking into the face of Ororo Munroe, the woman better known as Storm among their little community. He stared at her, eyes somewhat glazed, as if he wasn’t sure she was real or not. She put her hand over his, giving it a little squeeze before returning the cup to it.
“How long since you slept?” she asked.
“It’s that noticeable?” he muttered, smiling dryly.
She gave him one of her classic sympathetic smiles and brushed a knuckle along his jaw, feeling the dark bristly hair there. She calmed him and excited him all at once, and part of him wanted to fall into her and give over all control and let someone else help hold him together for awhile, the way Hank had. It would be a relief. But it was just a fantasy, a vague daydream in the back of his mind.
“You’ve been elusive lately, my friend,” she noted, seating herself beside him on the bench. “If you ever need someone to confide in, my door is always open to you.”
Wolverine said nothing, just gazing at her tiredly. “You’re sweet to offer, darlin’. But what makes you think I want to talk?”
She shrugged her elegant shoulders, leaning back against the wall, drawing her own knees up in the same fashion his were, “Good point. That doesn’t seem to be your forte, does it?” she chuckled, nudging his arm with hers. “Still, I have often overheard you and Hank discussing history and Eastern culture long into the night. I admit, I’m not as well read on those subjects but…”
Another person entered the kitchen and Logan’s eyes snapped to the intruder, nostrils flaring slightly. Scott helped himself to the coffee pot as was his usual ritual, but then turned, spotting the two of them sitting in the window seat. He raised his mug; “Morning,” he greeted. He stepped a little closer, gazing out the window before casually letting his eyes drop to Logan again. “You look rough. Out late again?” he asked.
Logan scowled at him; “Staid put all night; not that it’s any of yer fuckin’ business.” He muttered, sipping his coffee and then grimacing when he realized it was ice cold. Ororo took the mug from his hand and neatly excused herself.
“I’ll get you a fresh one.”
Scott moved aside to let her pass, and then looked back at Logan with one eyebrow raised thoughtfully. “Seriously?”
The feral sneered and looked away from him, seemingly as though he were trying to sink into the wall and disappear the same what Shadow Cat did. Unfortunately, Logan didn’t possess that ability. Scott leaned against the wall beside him, studying Logan with passive interest.
“You must really hate yourself.”
The feral growled quietly, tightening his fist as though he would unsheathe his claws, but Scott continued, unbothered; “Every mission we’ve had for the last month you’ve thrown yourself into headlong; recklessly even. Like a kamikaze. And when you’re not trying to get yourself blown to hell, you’re trying to drink yourself to death. And now…” he glanced in Storm’s direction, seeing the woman rummaging in the fridge. “You’re looking for another bed partner. Hank’s room has barely started gathering dust…”
Logan was up, one claw shining, and Scott jolted as he felt the zing of one of them pass him with lightning quick reflexes. He stood there breathless for a moment, only to have his cup suddenly shatter, as Logan had cut it in half, and fall to the ground, dousing him in hot coffee.
“Goddammit Wolverine!” he bellowed.
Storm was suddenly there, blinking in confusion, “What’s going on?” she demanded. Logan slunk away, giving her a downcast look before disappearing through the doorway and loping down the hall.
For a moment Ororo stood in confusion looking after him, then turned scowling to Scott. “Must you torment him? I thought you were supposed to be the moral example of this team?”
Scott sighed and grabbed a dishtowel, wiping coffee off his shirt and arms; “I’m doing you a favor, Ororo. You’ve seen what kind of trouble Logan’s been in since he came here, do you really want to get yourself mixed up in his mess? You’re too good for him.”
She folded her arms across her chest, staring him down. “But you, apparently, are not?”
Scott stiffened, slightly taken aback.
“I’m not stupid, Scott. Neither is your fiancé , though she seems to choose ignorance in this matter. I’m not so obliging however. You’re trying to have your cake and eat it too. It seems especially poor timing, considering you and Jean are planning the wedding for this year, aren’t you?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” the other man muttered, though his face was already faintly red with embarrassment.
She shrugged. “Perhaps not. Either way, I don’t want to see you lurking around Wolverine in this manner again. We should be helping him, not taking advantage of him.”
Scott sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument, and more over that she was right. Logan was obviously suffering, yet Scott only seemed to pour salt on the wounds. “You’re right, Storm. I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to him.”
At this admission she softened and nodded, “I know you will,” she replied, sipping the coffee she had intended for Wolverine and watching the other man slink off to clean up, hoping that it would be the end of it.
**
After a quick change, Scott made his way down to the Danger Room. He hoped to get in a quick session between classes, knowing that this time of day it wouldn’t be crowded with students or other staff members.
He was surprised however to find that the room was already in use. He frowned at the little red light above the door that indicated that a program was in process, and ducked quickly into the observation deck to see who was inside.
From the elevated deck, he could see the program playing out; it was an urban setting, one that seemed slightly foreign to the man with its crowded streets and multiple neon signs. A second later he saw Logan sprinting down the street, leaping deftly from car to car, bounding off the edges of buildings and car roof tops with a lightness that Scott hadn’t thought he possessed.
The mutant was quickly intercepted by an equally light-footed band of ninjas, who were swarming around him, trying to snare him. But Logan was far too quick, too precise in his maneuvers and much too deadly in his retaliation to be snared.
Logan seemed to know what the Ninjas would do a few seconds before they were able to act, consistently giving him the upper edge. Scott was fascinated; he hadn’t known Logan to use this particular program before. In fact, it seemed fairly new and unfamiliar to him. So why was Wolverine so well practiced in using not only his claws, but advanced martial art techniques?
He hesitated, knowing he should leave the other man alone and let him have his space. But he rationalized that Logan might need him, at least to observe, in case he became overwhelmed. He slipped down into the entry dock, entering his override code to allow him access.
Logan hadn’t set the difficulty level high enough for his standards; these men were quick and deadly, but far too predictable. But after a few weeks of neglecting himself, he felt sluggish and slow. The healing factor could work wonders for sword wounds; but it couldn’t do shit for the haze of self-loathing he’d slipped into.
But he was beginning to dig himself out of that whole now, one claw at a time, as he had done before. Wallowing in self-pity was not his style; taking apart assholes who were making the world shittier for everyone else was.
“Program, raise difficulty level to eight,” Logan called.
“Negative. New combatant has entered program.”
“What?” Logan turned in surprise and received a severe blow to the head for his trouble, knocking him from his perch on a building ledge and sending him tumbling below, where he slammed into the roof of a car, creating a sizable creator.
“Son of a bitch…!” Logan wheezed, trying to pry himself up before the remaining enemies could descend on him. But just as he was about to be split in half, a hot ray of light sent them sprawling back, singed and seared.
Wolverine groaned and rolled over, seeing Scott approaching him, readily taking on the descending villains. “What the hell do ya think yer doin’?” he barked, finally prying himself from the twisted metal and dropping to the sidewalk, in time to turn and grab the handlebars of a speeding motorcycle, allowing the driver to flip over his head and skid across the pavement before taking the bike and swinging it into another approaching group that was about to attack. “This is a solo mission!”
“With over a hundred enemies?!” Scott yelled; “Are you out of your mind!?”
“I’m fine!” Logan yelled, seizing him by the shirt and pulling him flush against him so that he could sink his claws into the approaching man behind him, gutting him quickly and efficiently before moving onto the next one.
Scott followed Logan’s lead, allowing the seasoned fighter to protect him for a moment or two while he got his bearings. But he could tell that Wolverine was off his game, tiring more quickly than usual. And that gave Scott a unique opportunity.
The black clothed hunters seemed to keep pouring out of every shadow and crevice of the simulated world, and Logan kept going wave after wave, cutting them down. He took out a large group by sinking his claws into the gas tank of a nearby truck, allowing gasoline to pour out freely, before creating a spark with his claws that set the whole thing up in flames.
The resulting explosion took out about twenty or so of their adversaries, but blew Scott and Logan back several feet, skidding across the pavement. Scott rolled to his feet, shaking off the shock of the explosion and looked to Wolverine, who was recovering much slower; seeming to have taken more of the blast than he realized.
“Logan?!”
The black haired man lifted his head and then howled as a lone enemy caught him in the side with a throwing star. Logan snarled and plucked the weapon from the wound, but another was already coming, this one nicking his arm. He growled again and tried to work his way to his feet, but Scott was suddenly in front of him, leveling not only the attacker, but the whole side of the storefront where he’d been hiding.
He opened his optic blast wide enough that it created a deep creator, separating them from the rest of the re-spawning enemies and creating a rather effective firewall that none seemed to be able to cross.
“Enemy threat eliminated. Program completed?”
“Program pause,” Scott answered. The world around them froze, as the simulation timed out. Scott turned and bent beside Wolverine, offering him his hand. “You okay?”
Logan brushed himself off, ignoring the man’s hand. “I’m fine. I didn’t need your help.”
Scott sighed; “You’re welcome.”
Logan rolled his eyes, looking around at the ruined simulation of the Tokyo street. “Guess you were right…I have been letting myself slip. This should have been a cake walk.”
His teammate nodded; “Well, I’m glad to see you in here again, if that means anything to you. But don’t try to push yourself so hard all at once. You’ll just get frustrated.” He expected Logan to retort with his usual smart assed reply, but the feral merely nodded silently.
“I’m sorry I came down on you so hard back there. I just…felt jealous I guess.”
“Jesus Christ, Scooter,” Logan sighed, scrubbing his face tiredly.
Scott held up his hand; “No, hear me out,” he amended, “ Ever since Hank left you’ve been avoiding everyone, but especially me. And I know…I know you have your reasons for that. But I hate the idea of being…nothing to you. I’d rather be hated than be nothing.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, unsure what to say. After what had happened between them and the trouble it had caused, Logan frankly didn’t trust himself around Scott, or Jean. It seemed like both of them were existing merely to be temptations, and dealing with them on a daily basis was taxing. Without Hank to provide a buffer…it was unbearable.
“You’ll never be ‘nothing’ to me, Scott,” he answered at length. “Not after the unholy mess we caused.” He looked around the damage, remembering when Cyclops had turned that same deadly power on him.
“I want to move past that,” Scott insisted. “You’re here to stay and so am I. So we have to find a way to live with each other.”
Logan grunted and Scott moved in closer. “I wish you had come to me after Hank left. You didn’t have to be so alone.” He put his hand on Logan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The feral cocked his head, studying him for a moment.
“So when ya gonna tell Jeanie the weddin’s off?”
Scott blinked behind his visor. “What are you talking about?”
Logan shook his head knowingly; “Yer still doin’ it, Summers. Yer still tryin’ to have it both ways. It ain’t gonna work, I already told ya that. So put it out of yer head.” He started to leave, but then Scott spoke up again.
“Danger Room; run practice simulation 45.”
“Simulation initiating. Training sequence 45 commencing.”
The environment around them changed from the decimated Tokyo street to a lush green forest. The two were standing on a wooden foot bridge over a rushing river. Logan blinked around, waiting for something to attack them, but nothing happened. Scott moved to the foot of the bridge where there were to large wooden staves. He picked up one that was marked with red tape and threw the other, which was marked with blue, to the other mutant.
“No Ninjas here,” he said. “Just a good old fashioned sparing session. You game?”
Logan tested he weight of the staff in his palm and scoffed quietly. “What the hell do I need this for?”
“To keep me from doing this!” He swung at Logan expertly, forcing Wolverine to nervously lift the staff to defend himself as Cyclops advanced and swung again, and again, leaving Logan little opportunity to do anything but defend himself.
“I take it you know this one pretty well?” he grunted.
“It was one the first programs I ever worked with as a student,” Scott answered, continuing to drive Wolverine back along the bridge, striking again and again, allowing Logan no time to act offensively.
He spun, catching Logan first across the staff, hard enough to make his hands shake, then spun again and struck him across the knuckles, then the knees and finally the back of the neck. Logan went down with a cry and fell into the water below with a splash and surfaced a second later gasping.
“Idiot! I can’t fuckin’ swim!”
Scott looked down in surprise; “What?”
Logan was bobbing in the water, struggling to keep his head up, looking extremely displeased. “Dammit, Scooter, if I drown in a fuckin’ fake river I’m gonna—“ he went under again, getting a mouthful of it before sinking even lower.
Scott dove in after him, getting his arms under Logan and swimming with him onto the shore. The Danger Room, despite its virtual capabilities, was also equipped with real elements, and the water was one of them, kept in a small reservoir below the floor.
Logan coughed and sputtered on the bank, heaving for breath for a moment as Scott crouched on top of him, patting his back. “You okay?”
“Why was that so fucking real?” Wolverine wheezed, lying there exhausted beneath him, wet and shivering faintly.
“It was real,” Scott admitted sheepishly, “The Danger Room has real water, its supposed to enhance things. I didn’t know you couldn’t….”
Logan waved him off, “S’fine. How could ya know, right?” he muttered, still coughing. “Metal skeleton doesn’t exactly make me very buoyant.” He frowned grumpily, lying there in the grass and dirt. Scott was still crouched over him, practically lying on top of him. But his close proximity warmed Wolverine’s chilled skin, making it harder to drive the man off.
Scott continued to stroke his back for a moment more, but then he leaned a little lower, hands moving up Logan’s shoulders and down his arms until his hands circled the feral’s wrists. He felt Scott’s lips on the back of his neck and gave a little gasp of surprise, a little jolt rippling through him. Scott squeezed his wrists lightly in return, holding him in place.
“Shh,” the taller man quieted. “It’s fine, I’ve got you. It’s just the two of us now.”
Logan frowned, clearly thinking this was a terrible idea. But Scott was so close and so warm, and he couldn’t help but sigh at the way he ghosted his lips over Logan’s skin, teasing and enticing.
The taller man pressed his body close, enveloping Logan as entirely as he could. He kept waiting for a roar, for a flash of claws and curse and for Wolverine to throw him back. But, though Logan was very tense beneath him, he seemed to be willing to allow this. At least for now.
“Knock it off,” Logan grunted, somewhat unconvincingly.
Scott smirked and nipped at his earlobe, “You can throw me off anytime you know.” He ground against Logan’s backside, expecting the man to kick him or otherwise reject him, but instead Logan emitted a small, begrudging moan of pleasure.
Scott slid one of his hands back up Logan’s arm and moved it beneath him, pushing away the wet fabric of his clothing to get at more of his skin. Logan helped him shrug off his wet shirt, discarding it with a wet flop across the grass. Cyclops ran his hands hungrily across Wolverine’s skin and Logan grunted softly in approval when he scraped his nails lightly down the center of his torso, stopping just above the dip of his naval.
All the while Scott kept his mouth busy at the nape of Logan’s neck and shoulders, seeming to have found a small sweet spot along his left side that made the feral groan softly whenever it was touched and rock back against him in approval.
Summers could already feel the rise in his body heat and see the flush of blood in his skin as the man below him became more aroused. Logan was giving over to him in a manner he hadn’t at all expected, and this new feeling of dominance was drawing his pent up desires into a frenzy. This was a side of Logan he hadn’t experienced, and certainly one he hadn’t expected. He had no idea the big, brutish feral could be so…compliant.
He decided to press his advantage while it lasted, throwing all caution and sense to the wind. He sunk his teeth into Logan’s shoulder, earning a growl of pleasure from the shorter man and let his hand slide down his abdomen to reach the heated place between his thighs that was straining against the fabric of his jeans. Scott grabbed him possessively and squeezed, until Logan moaned again.
“Oh God, Logan, I missed you…” He pulled the man’s fly open and yanked the damp material down his thighs slightly to give him more access to the heated skin underneath. Logan was digging his hands into the ground, panting and growling underneath him, rubbing back against him like an animal in heat. Scott was almost certain he was dreaming this; there was no way Wolverine was allowing this…
He wrapped his fingers around Logan’s thick cock and stroked him slowly.
“Oh Goddamn, Summers…” the black haired man whimpered, glancing back at him from his bent position, eyes dark and hooded. Just seeing that expression on Logan’s face nearly sent Scott over the edge.
He stroked the man slowly, teasingly as he continued to lick and bite down his back, leaving little abrasions and bruises that faded seconds after they were created. He lamented not trying this sooner, not taking the initiative and pushing Hank out of the picture. He could have had this all along if he had just been more brazen.
Scott decided that one good turn deserved another, and moved his other hand around to Logan’s backside, letting his palm glide over the curve of the man’s ass before moving inward, touching him in the same manner that Logan had in their last encounter.
But rather than earning another whimper of guilty pleasure from the man, the feral suddenly tensed like a trip wire, muscles clenched, his head suddenly snapping up, jerking away from Scott’s touch.
“What are you--?”
Scott was lost in the moment. He dropped down on Wolverine, grabbing his wrists and flipping him completely over into his back, pushing his knee between the man’s thighs possessively, grinning down at him. “Giving you what you want,” he answered huskily, trying to reach between his legs again, using his knee to wedge Logan’s legs apart. “What we both want…”
“Get off!” Logan barked, twisting away from him. Scott misread the intensity of his voice, ignoring the warnings signs that Logan was no longer accepting of his touch. Scott had crossed an invisible line and was completely unaware of it.
The taller man twisted his wrist, almost painfully and forced Logan’s legs to open a little further, thinking he wanted Scott to work for it. “Stop playing hard to get, let me—“
Logan surged forward then, fist flying, and struck the man right in the groin. Scott stuttered on a gasp of pain and fell back, at once rolling into a ball, pain surging from his groin up through his abdomen and down into his legs, making it hard to even breathe.
“SHIT! What did you do that for?!” he screeched.
Logan was already up, yanking his pants up and snarling down at the other man; “You god damn greedy little asshole! Was this the whole fucking reason you came in here?! To try to corner me?”
“You—you wanted it!”
“And then I didn’t.” Logan answered. “Ya caught me in a moment of weakness, I admit. But it was going too far. You keep your damn hands to yerself!”
Scott managed to pull himself up, though he remained hunched and obviously pained, glaring up at Logan. “What are you waiting for, Wolverine? Hank to give up his job and come running back here? Don’t be so fucking self-centered. That man is a genius, Xavier’s right hand. What makes you think you matter to him?”
The words were terrible and hurtful and Scott was only just beginning to realize the gravity of them; hating himself for taking such a low blow out of wounded pride and frustration. He felt his stomach twist further when he saw that they hit home.
Logan growled at him, claws unsheathed, looking ready to hack him to pieces.
“What the hell is going on down here!?” Storm’s voice suddenly thundered. Both men froze, turning towards the source of the sound to see both she and Jean above them in the observation deck, both looking very startled.
Both men looked back at each other, and Scott searched Logan’s face for some assurance that he would maintain their cover, knowing what was at stake if he didn’t. But Logan’s expression gave him no such assurance.
“We’re fine,” he grunted back up to them. “Just a little too in the moment. Right, Wolverine?”
Logan did not answer.
A moment later the program terminated itself as both women entered the room, trotting towards them with Storm in the forefront. “Logan, claws away.” She commanded.
For a moment Logan did not move, still glaring at Scott as Jean came to Scott’s side, seeing that he was obviously injured. Storm put her hand on his shoulder then, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Logan; it’s alright.”
The feral mutant turned with a grunt, retracting his weapons and stalked towards the exit. Storm gave Jean a careful glance before following him.
She chased Logan, calling after him repeatedly before finally stopping to create a suction of air that pulled him back towards her. The feral reflexively struck out at her at being forced back against his will, but she caught his hands.
“Take a breath,” she commanded in that resounding voice of hers, “and look around you. No one here is against you. It’s just the two of us now…do you understand?”
She kept her eyes on him, waiting for whatever he might do next, whether it be fight or flight, hoping her words would keep from descending into that primal state. She watched some of the anger drain out of his features, his brow soften, the snarl gone from his lips as he stared at her.
Neither spoke for a moment, and then Logan bowed his head to her. “I’m fine, Storm. I’m in control. Ain’t gonna hurt no one.”
She nodded. “I was never worried about that, my brother.” She amended. “Are you alright?”
Wolverine refused to look at her, glaring at the floor. “Fine.”
“Perhaps this is something we should speak to Xavier about.”
Logan waved her off, turning away from her and starting off down the hall again. “I don’t need Chuck’s help to deal with a punk like Cyclops. Don’t need yours either.”
She sighed after him, unsure what to do. Clearly she was never going to reach Logan in this manner…she would have to try another approach.
**