100 Degrees Fahrenheit
Logan walked with Scott back to the cabin (though he thought that was a gross exaggeration, it was a ritzy vacation house with a log cabin-themed exterior, but whatever). He did eventually put his clothes back on, but he took his time with it to draw out as much time of Scott being visibly uncomfortable as possible.
The ice-cold water had helped clear his head a little. He'd been up all night, every little sound making him jump, thinking it was time to fight. He gave up at some point and committed to staying awake to keep guard, doing occasional perimeter checks around the outside of the house. Every failed trip to another universe so far had ended in someone dead, some of them other versions of friends and acquaintances, and now the only targets left on this earth were him and his family. There was no room to be reckless.
This constant patrolling also gave him some direly needed alone time; Logan hadn't been able to keep his thoughts in order since they got here, which only served to put him further on edge. He needed to have his mind under control. He knew what happened when he didn't.
Logan hadn't expected Scott to stop by that morning, but the man was probably more interested in killing time than being around him. That was usually the case in their small early morning rendezvous, while those were still regular occurrences before the recent surge of responsibilities. That didn't stop him from enjoying the company from time to time, though.
This visit was impeded by the fact that he had a little trouble looking directly at Scott in this older body; it was yet another reminder that he would look like that in their world one day, if he lived to. He would keep on aging, like all the X-Men would, like the students would when they grew up. Like everyone would, except for Logan.
There he went again. He bit down on his lip until he drew blood and focused on the pain to force his mind away from the train of thought.
“Have you eaten yet?” Scott asked from beside him.
“No. You?” Logan said, hoping it sounded like nothing was wrong so Scott would stay off his back.
“Nope. It looks like someone grabbed pancake mix at the store, though. We could make some for everyone?”
Logan would be grateful for the distraction. He needed something to do.
“I think we need milk for it.” he said. They’d brought mostly dry foods for the trip, since they had to spend the majority of the day in the car.
“Do you know where the nearest store is?”
“Dunno, closest town’s like an hour out. Might be a gas station around.” Logan guessed. “If you want ‘em bad enough to go lookin’.”
“I mean, what else are we doing right now?” said Scott.
He chuckled. “Fair enough.”
They got closer to the cabin, and the smell of his alternate self registered for Logan alongside all his friends, who must have been waking up. He'd been slow on picking it up since they got here, since it was his own scent, but in another location. Logan's mood soured instantly at it, but he was tired to death of Scott being on his case, so he pretended not to notice.
The fact that Scott had been riding his dick about his bad mood since they got there was only stressing him out worse. He thought they had a mutual understanding at that point; Logan makes it clear when he’s pissed off, and Scott gives him space if he knows what's good for him. Despite what anyone thought, he didn't like blowing up at Scott most of the time. He couldn't help it that everyone's favorite stuck-up poster boy had a special way of getting under his skin when he was upset. That said, it happened less and less those days, and part of that was Scott knowing when to leave well enough alone.
They'd both been a little touchy lately, with how busy things had been. Logan honestly preferred the world-ending crises. He knew had to deal with those, he was good in an emergency. What he wasn't good at was helping with paperwork, sitting in endless strategy meetings, planning and subbing in for classes, and helping students with homework while spending every day crowded by people who expected him to step up to whatever task they threw at him. And then when night came, instead of getting some quality time to decompress, they were off on another mission that ended with people getting mad that mutants had shown up rather than being grateful for them saving their sorry lives.
He was getting better at keeping his temper in check when he was overwhelmed by the attention, sure. But he had limits, and when he did good enough at acting like a person, people tended to forget that.
And now everyone else got to kick back this weekend, but the second Logan was alone, Scotty was down his throat trying to get him to talk.
Scott spoke again, interrupting his thoughts. “We probably shouldn't split up just to get milk.”
Logan wondered if that’s what he was thinking about that whole time. “Probably not.”
He cast a glance at Scott, who was looking disappointed, and Logan didn't know why, because they could have a nice damn breakfast when they got home. Or did he want his new friend to cook for him again?
“I'm sure we can find something else to do around here, then.” Scott said. “We could get those nets set up in the yard for games?”
Logan was growing suspicious that Scott was looking for another excuse to get him to talk. But, to the man's own point… what else were they doing?
They went around to the small shed and rifled through repair equipment, firewood, pool toys, and lawn games until they found the net tucked away in a bag.
“Doesn't it kind of feel like it's taunting us?” Scott said out of nowhere while they put everything back how it was.
Logan blinked a couple times in surprise. “Like what is?”
Scott’s long-sleeved shirt was tied around his waist, the tank top underneath revealing the Summers Sleeper Guns, as Logan liked to call them in his head and exclusively his head. Scott had a naturally slim build, the kind that hid the fact he was muscular until took his shirt off and let his biceps out. Hence the guns being sleepers. Scott put his hands on his hips, showing them off.
“All this stuff.” Scott nudged a box with his shoe. “The X-Men here have the free time here to use all this. They were probably here this summer already.”
When they took out the deflated inner tubes, Logan could smell the lake lingering on them, maybe a month old and proving Scott’s assumption correct. He could also smell the sweat building on Scott from the exercise. He was wearing a different deodorant than usual.
Logan knew where Scott was going with his whining. “Life ain’t fair, Summers. Don’t dwell on it.” he said, a touch of amusement in his voice.
Scott gave him a classic sigh. “I know, I know.”
Logan was being a hypocrite himself, though. Of course the thought had crossed his mind. As a matter of fact, it hadn't left him since the second they arrived at that house and Logan could smell it was his. His and-
He unsheathed his claws without thinking, reflexively using the pain to stop his disaster-bound train of thought. This naturally startled Scott, so Logan covered by cutting open the binding on the bundle of firewood and acting like that was his plan all along.
“Should bring these too. For tonight.” he said as he grabbed a couple logs, not looking back.
It was starting to get hot as they tied the nets up in place, and Logan could hear Scott’s empty stomach gurgle. He honestly forgot their original plan was breakfast, and could smell the toast and eggs they were making inside.
Once he was finished securing the knots, Logan gave the pole a kick. He didn't want to go back inside yet, but they needed to eat. Being on the road most of the day yesterday meant they didn't have much.
“Breakfast is ready.” he informed Scott, who was watching a hawk glide into the treetops. His eyes turned to Logan. Hazel.
They were usually invisible behind his shades until you got real close, so he emoted with the rest of his face more than other people during conversation. Logan hadn't realized until they got to this world that he always mentally filled in the blanks. He had gotten used to the stern, furrowed-brow look he received from him so often, and assumed the eyes that watched Logan beneath were narrowed beneath in anger, condescension, et cetera.
But that wasn't it. Every time he shot that look at Logan here, the uncanniness hit when he recognized that expression in every part of his face down to the now-deeper wrinkles, except for the eyes. They were soft when he looked at him. Invested. Worried, even.
Logan turned away, like he'd been doing every time he tried to look Scott in the face since they got here. Out of his periphery, he saw him shift a bit, perhaps having noticed Logan's behavior.
“It's nice out.” Scott said, heartbeat picking up. “Maybe I'll eat outside.”
Logan didn't say anything. He knew what Scott was trying to do. He just didn't know why.
“You can do what you want.” he replied.
There was a pause while Scott watched Logan shift to look off towards the distance. Changing his mind about eating with him, if Logan had to guess.
There was a frustrated puff of air. “Okay, are you coming in, or do you want me to bring you something?”
Logan forced his internal hackles down. Scott hadn't been pushing him all morning, and hadn't given him a good reason to think he would. Logan turned toward the cabin and started walking, and Scott dropped his tension from the corner of Logan's eye and joined him.
“What are we having?” Scott asked, upbeat again.”
“Eggs, toast, and...” he sniffed to see if there was anything else. Sausage, sure. But that wasn't all.
The other him, the older one, opened the door and waved to Scott. Logan stopped in his tracks while Scott picked up the pace, whose heart was beating faster again at the sight of the older man.
The two Logans locked eyes, and his other self gave him that fucking look again, the same one he gave him every time they saw each other. Anger. Disgust. Disdain.
Hatred.
Logan felt his own heart rate skyrocket at the intense glare. It reminded him of the way that the mutant-hating bigots looked at him, like he was some kind of creature, some monster threatening their moral superiority. It made his blood fucking boil.
And then his other, alien self looked away, face relaxing as Scott came up to him.
“You hungry?” the other Logan asked, voice caring.
“Starving.” Scott replied, even more so.
“Sausages are cooking, should be done soon.”
“Great.”
And as Scott turned into the other him, that's when he actually saw the back of Scott's shoulders for the first time since he took his overshirt off. They were covered in bruised bite marks, severe around the canines in a way that made their owner unmistakable. They were obviously a few days old, so Scott must have had no idea they were there, or he wouldn't be letting them show like that.
Logan felt cold despite the sun bearing down. He knew. Of course he knew. That didn't make it easier.
Scott's hand landed on his other self's arm tenderly, and the man responded with a brief touch to Scott’s hip. They smiled at each other. The whole interaction lasted two seconds at most. It was like they'd been doing it for years.
Scott turned back to him. “You coming?”
The other him looked too. Same glare, but more tempered with Scotty by him.
“You know,” Logan said, barely able to hear himself over the storm in his chest, “I think I'll run and get that milk after all.”
Scott's face fell. “...Okay.” he sounded confused, defeated. It wasn't like him, but nothing he'd been doing had been like him lately.
Then he realized Scott was saying something else after that he hadn't been listening to, he was distracted by the way his other self was seething at him.
“It isn't any less of a bad idea to split up right now.” Scott was warning him. “If you're set on going, at least take Kitty with you so you can make a break for it if you need to.”
Logan nodded without saying anything and left for the car so he didn't have to keep looking at them. He considered leaving right then, but unfortunately Scott was right about keeping someone mobile with him in case he needed a quick getaway. He leaned against the car and lit up a smoke to give Kitty some time to eat, and himself some time to calm down.
About ten minutes later, the girl came out to join him. And yeah, Logan knew she was a grown woman now and not a girl, but she was always going to be a kid to him. He used to hate when parents did the whole “she'll always be my little girl” thing, but then he watched his favorite students grow up from childhood, and… yeah, he kind of got it. Not that he'd ever say so.
He put his cigar out on his palm as she walked up, making her wince. He felt kinda bad about it; he often forgot what was hard for people to see in terms of injury, and he didn't like making Kitty worry.
“Hey, Logan.” she said happily, getting over it quickly.
“Hey, kid.” he tried to return her smile half-heartedly, but it didn't last.
She walked around to the passenger’s side. “I hear we're going on a dairy-based adventure.”
“Figured we needed some refrigerated food too.” he opened the car door and got inside. Kitty waited until they were both seated to continue the conversation.
“And that's the only reason you're running off? No ulterior motive whatsoever?” she asked with an imploring look that teetered between amusement and concern.
Logan started the car. “Yup.”
“Okay. If you say so.” she said sarcastically.
He passed her his phone. “See if you can get the map loaded and look for stores.”
They took the car down the road, Kitty refreshing the phone impatiently. It seemed that while their phones had reception here, data was a no go, for whatever reason. They decided to follow the road until they ran into the nearest town and/or gas station convenience store.
Logan felt almost guilty being standoffish around Kitty, but trying to pretend he was doing fine would have been more alarming to her. Now that he was off from the group, a weariness was falling over him.
“We should get a place like this.” Kitty said as she fiddled with the radio. He tried to swat her hand away from it, but she persisted, landing on an R&B station.
“We'd never use it.” he argued.
“That's not true and you know it.” she complained. “You and Scott are both so short-sighted, we’re busy for a few months, and suddenly you guys act like we've never had free time in our lives.”
“It's not like-”
She cut him off. “Don't forget I've been doing this half my life, Logan. If we never had vacations, I would have gone crazy by now. And quit.”
“Yeah, but you're not like us.” he said.
“How so?”
“You're well-adjusted. Somehow.”
She laughed at that and Logan found himself chuckling too.
“That's only thanks to you guys, honestly.”
Logan scoffed and shook his head.
“No, I'm being serious.” she insisted. “Maybe one of these days I can return the favor by teaching you how to take a compliment.”
He didn’t say anything, but he did appreciate it. Logan was one of the last people to ask about what a normal childhood looked like, but when Kitty glommed onto him at a young age, he tried to do his best by her despite the situation she'd been put in. He chaperoned her to concerts and taught her how to drive, gave her money to go to the mall with her friends and listened to her rant about dumb boys (all the while advising her to give up on them). He did everything he could to keep her out of danger when Charles seemed dead-set on throwing her into it, and taught her how to fight so she could protect herself when he couldn't.
Had it paid off? As a teacher, he wanted to think so. She was one of his very first students, and was fundamental in convincing him that teaching might be something he was even cut out for. He knew that didn't negate every traumatic experience she'd gone through as an X-Man, but he hoped he'd done something to help, in some way.
Help the kids turn out better than him.
“Hey.” Kitty said, breaking the silence.
“What?”
“Are you doing okay?”
“Oh, not you too.” he groaned.
“If you want people to stop bugging you about being grumpy, then you should stop being so grumpy.”
He grunted.
“That's not a response.” she bossed at him.
“It's none of your business.” he said in a gently cautioning tone.
“Then whose is it?” her tone turned mischievous, giving him flashbacks to 13-year-old Kitten talking about crushes. “Is it Scotty's ?”
“Alright, alright.” he said dismissively. If she'd asked seriously, he might have been mad.
“Okay, but…” she segued into something more confrontational, “It's the other Logan, right? What's your deal with him?”
Leave it to Kitty to notice. “I don't like him.”
“Why not? He's like, the most normal Wolverine we've met so far.”
He clenched his jaw.
“You have to have an issue with every single Logan.” she commented, causing a flurry of emotions beneath his skin.
“Yup. Every single one .” he said, frustration breaking him. “That's exactly the problem.”
Kitty's silence was all needed to know he shouldn't have said that out loud. He could feel her eyes on him. He clenched the steering wheel.
“Why?” she asked after a prolonged pause, innocent in a way that made it too difficult for him to brush off.
“How long have we known each other, Kitten?” he said, angry but defeated. “Plenty a’ reasons.”
She dropped the topic, probably not knowing how to respond to that, and he didn't blame her. He was thankful for the quiet, though he wished he hadn't said anything to begin with.
They rolled into a town that was honestly less of a town and more of a couple of stores centered in a wide smattering of loosely-associated houses. With their other conversation behind them, Kitty was back to idly commenting on their surroundings.
They landed outside the store, a chain they'd never heard of. All things considered it was pretty big, likely being the central proper grocery store for a distance, or there was a bigger residential area off somewhere they didn't pass.
It was quiet inside. They wandered through the aisles and tossed in milk, butter, produce, and some frozen food. The whole time Logan stayed on high alert for any sounds or smells out of the ordinary, every step, clack, and squeak getting his attention. There was only one more shopper in the store, so Logan had an active map in his head of the location and activities of every other person in the building. The shopper putting pasta that shook around in its box in a basket two aisles down, the cashier at checkout tapping their phone screen and chewing gum, talking to another employee standing nearby about their cousin who started a fire at a house party. The person behind the refrigerator shelves restocking microwaveable meals, who had an infected cut.
Naturally the other shopper was the most suspicious, and was the main subject of his focus. He also kept himself trained on the ambient smells, which would be the first sign of an intruder. There was a lot to parse with so many different kinds of foods and cleaners and lingering scents of other customers; their stock of oranges was going bad. There was a mouse in the wall near the bread section. The other shopper was opening an egg carton now.
A hand landed on his back and he jumped so hard he almost popped his claws.
Kitty darted her arm away from him, knowing better than to be within slashing distance when he was startled. Her defensive posture let him know he'd scared her.
“Is something off?” she asked.
He looked around at the ends of the aisles and shook his head. “Not yet.”
She watched him for a long moment, but he was too busy tuning back into the clocking of the environment that he'd been knocked out of. His nerves had been left buzzing from Kitty's interruption.
Logan was always the first line of defense, his heightened senses giving them precious extra time to react. He'd been working this job overtime the past few days, and he was damn tired.
He swiveled his head back around to his friend. She had been carefully looking over his face, either waiting to see if he had any other updates, or maybe worried that he hadn't started moving again.
“You wanna start checking out? I want to get some fresh air. Easier to keep watch out there, anyway.” he said, trying to sound less serious so Kitty could relax. It didn't seem to work, but she didn't stop him when he turned around and left her.
He passed the other shopper and subtly sized him up. Not their guy: older man, different hair color. He would have known by his scent regardless, but it didn't hurt to check.
Logan left the store and sniffed. Nothing new since they entered. No sounds out of the ordinary either, but each swish and snap from the direction of the trees made him anxious.
With the coast clear, he stepped inside the attached liquor store and stocked up on bottles of booze. He managed to get them in the backseat before Kitty could finish shopping and tell him off for it. Not that he was self-conscious about it by any means, but he wanted to skip the hassle of an argument.
When they returned, Logan made the mistake of going inside the cabin to help put groceries away. It only served to stress him out worse, his attention continuously drawn to Scott doting over him-but-better, him but well-adjusted, him but human. So not him at all.
He felt like he barely made it back to the car without suffocating. All he needed was to calm down. He threw the door open, grabbed the first bottle he reached out of the paper bag, fumbled around unscrewing the cap in his haste, and took some long gulps. It was the nicer bourbon he'd been hoping to enjoy later, but whatever got the job done.
He only drew the bottle back to catch his breath, then chugged again until half the bottle was gone. He needed to calm down. He needed to calm down.
Stupid fucking universe. Stupid fucking Scott for leaving in the first place while he was exhausted and stressed and vulnerable when he ought to know better, and for getting comfortable here when he didn't have any powers to defend himself, and for cozying up to the only other person here with no powers to defend him either. All for what, so he could play house? So he could live in this delusional fantasy of an “ordinary” life that he'd break his own heart by inevitably having to ditch?
Scott was going to be miserable when they got back, moping around and pitying himself for not getting to have all this too. He would get distracted and they'd all have to deal with the consequences. It happened before and it would happen again.
He didn't buy whatever bullshit this other version of himself was peddling. Logan didn't get a normal life, not in this universe, not in any. As far as he was concerned, this other Logan was the worst of them all. Pretending to be something he's not, pretending that losing his mutation erased the soldier in him, the killer, the animal that he was deep down. Logan was a kind of broke that couldn't get fixed, not by becoming human, not by anything. This other guy was playing a cruel fucking joke on himself and Scott by acting otherwise. The kind of joke that had always, always ended in someone he loved getting killed. He ought to know better. He ought to fucking know.
Like a magic trick, Logan looked down and the bottle in his was empty, his throat was burning, and the suffocating scent of alcohol blocked his nose.
He needed to calm down.