Two-Turtle Race
Scott was shaved and showered when Logan woke up, inspiring jealousy. Logan was, at least, able to make it to the bathroom on his own.
There really wasn't much to do at first. Scott camped out on the couch with the TV, and Logan was stuck in his bed with a phone for entertainment and nothing else. When mealtimes came around, Scott would deliver it to him on a tray he could sit in his lap, and they'd have a conversation before splitting off again. It was a delicate balance of each trying to maintain their own mental stability of wanting to interact to break up the monotony, but not spending too much time together and inevitably driving each other crazy.
Logan's sleep was fitful and tortured, now getting up to 3-4 hour periods again, which allowed for more intense and involved nightmares. It might have been the sudden shift in lifestyle, but he'd reverted to waking up and not being able to shake off the panic because he couldn't ground his senses.
He laid awake wired, counting every single sound he heard outside the apartment and taking deep breaths to pick up every smell he possibly could. The night was suffocating when he couldn't pick out the details in the dark. His adrenaline failed to wear off when anything could be a threat. Times like these he’d prefer to drink until he passed out, but, well.
Thankfully, Scott was unsurprised by the yelps and shouts he awoke with, but because he was supposed to be monitoring Logan's health, he had to check in every time to make sure he was fine. Part of Logan was made all the more antsy because of it, having another person around, but the other part was put at ease by being able to see the man and confirm for himself that he was alive and unharmed.
Sometimes when Logan woke up without enough noise to disturb the man, he'd get up himself to check on him. He would do a round, making sure the doors and windows were locked, looking outside to check for anyone suspicious. Then he would go back to the room and sit with his back to the wall and all potential entrances in view, knife beneath his pillow.
On one such night, he'd managed to fall back into a hesitant sleep after doing a round through the apartment, but reawoke with a start when he sensed another presence. His brain whirred into search mode before his body was able to catch up, but all he found was Scott sitting turned inwards on the far edge of the bed, watching over him with a peaceful and unbothered expression.
Logan swore a couple obscenities to himself as he dredged the thoughts from his sleepy brain, then propped himself up on his elbows.
“What? What is it?” Logan mumbled as he blinked. It was the early hours, only the scant beginnings of pale sunlight present.
Scott was mostly unperturbed, besides seeming a little sheepish at being caught. “Nothing. You're fine.”
Logan stared at him in disbelief, then let himself fall back to the mattress with a huff.
“Sometimes you make these ridiculous sounds when you have bad dreams. This like, whining thing.”
Logan slowly turned his head in his direction. There was a stupid smile on his face.
“Do you watch me sleep?”
“Sometimes.”
The control freak nature had gone too far, Logan decided.
“You're the one who keeps pacing around and waking me up.” Scott defended himself, crossing one leg over the other, unaffected by Logan's obvious discomfort. “it's also my job to make sure you're alive right now.”
Logan experienced a new wave of discomfort at not realizing he'd disturbed the other man. He didn't care that he woke him up, but Logan was bothered by the fact he didn't notice. Normally, he could hear the change in a person's breathing at the very least.
Scott seemed to catch on that something was eating at him, following his body language closely.
“What’s up?” he asked, keeping his tone cheery, but Logan could see he was concerned.
Logan debated how much to tell him. He tossed the issue back and forth in his mind like a ball going from one hand to another. Scott was making no move to give up, watching him with curiosity, one hand on the bed as he twisted around to see him.
“I can't-” Logan sighed and smoothed his hands down his face. He was so strung out from lack of sleep that his emotional defenses were in shambles. “I can't tell if anything’s coming. I need to make sure.”
“I'm not sure I understand.” Scott said plainly.
“That's because I barely explained anything.”
Scott blinked and gave his head a tiny shake at the unnecessary snip. Logan knew he was being bitey to prolong finding a way to come clean.
He made a vague circular motion around the room. “I can't hear anything coming. Makes it hard to sleep. I’m used to things sneakin’ up to kill me all hours of the day, but I can't just get up and shake it off if someone actually succeeds these days.” he watched as Scott’s face fell into something more serious as he went on. “So I'm… not so good at tellin’ anymore.”
There was a thoughtful silence from Scott where he looked off into space. It put Logan on edge.
“Plus, I gotta…” he was trailing off into a mumble. “Make sure you're alive out there, so…”
Scott furrowed his brow as he examined Logan, making him feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. This lit a certain desire for violence in him that he had no means to back up at that moment.
The other man turned his head away in contemplation and rubbed the lower half of his face while making that same intense expression. He was formulating a plan if ever Logan saw it.
“Look-” Scott started.
“Uh-huh.”
“That couch has been killing my back.”
“You wanna switch?” Logan raised a brow. That would give him better view of the front door.
“Would you let me finish?” Scott said impatiently. “Also, if it's not good for my back, it's definitely going to mess yours up.”
Logan scoffed.
“I was thinking of asking to move back in here anyway, it's easier than getting up at random hours to check on you.” he gave a one-handed shrug with a hand pointed accusatorily at Logan.
“Nobody asked you to do that.” he pointed out.
“Okay, smartass. Nobody asked you to check on me, either.” Scott let his hand fall back down to the sheets with a smack.
“I'd just wake you up more often if you were next to me.” Surely if Logan's getting up to walk at night and thrashing around in his sleep was bothering Scott before, it would be worse if they shared a bed.
Scott looked him over, tight around the corners of his eyes. “You look like shit, you know that, right? Genuinely the worst I've ever seen you.”
Logan's eyes danced down to the heavy bag's on the man's own face.
“It would make me feel better. Okay? And I want my bed back.”
Logan stared him down, but Scott was unflinching. He was visibly exhausted under everything else.
“Whatever.” Logan relented. “Your apartment.”
Despite his success, Scott was huffy as he got under the covers without another word.
-
With Scott helping Logan change his bandages, it was inevitable that he would see Logan's self-inflicted scarring. The last ones he had mostly healed while he was unconscious, but were still bright red and burned beneath his waistband. He considered trying to keep them hidden under his pants, but he knew that would only be a temporary fix.
So one morning, he didn't make the effort to hitch his pants up and braced himself for the obnoxious questions and demands for an explanation and whatever other reaction Scott had for him.
He noticed them right away, freezing behind Logan when he took his shirt off. He started talking hesitantly.
“... Logan, these-”
Logan sighed heavily.
Scott let himself be cut off by the response. There was a stinging on his hip as Scott pressed at newest ones with his finger.
“These are fresh.” he stated, a cautious edge to his voice.
“I wasn't born with ‘em.” Logan said, hoping Scott wasn't going to draw this out too long.
Scott took his hand away. The bandage adhesive tugged at his skin as it was pulled off. He could almost hear the thoughts churning behind him.
Get on with it, Summers. Logan pleaded internally.
“If it were anyone else, I'd ask if you were doing okay.” he said after the first bandage was removed, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
But you won't, because it's me.
Logan being crazy as usual.
“But it's already pretty clear you're not doing well.”
Logan was surprised by that answer. It made him bristle, ready to argue back about he meant by that, and why he was really judging him for it.
“Calm down.” Scott told him.
“I didn't say anything yet.”
“I'm not going to make you talk about it.” he interjected the second Logan ended his sentence.
Logan was taken so off-guard by the assertion he didn't know how to respond.
“You're obviously going through something. I'd have to be stupid not to see that.” Scott continued, somewhat callous in tone. “I don't understand and I'm not going to pretend to. I already know I can't make you tell me.”
Logan appreciated the answer. He did. He could tell it's the one Scott thought he wanted.
What he couldn't figure out was why, then, he could feel the tiniest amount of disappointment.
“I'm fine.” he said aloud after waiting a second too long.
“Right.” said Scott disbelievingly.
The fresh bandage was halfway on when Scott paused, just for a moment or two, then pressed it the rest of the way on.
He finished up without saying anything else. Logan was relieved. He was supposed to be.
Scott got up and walked around in front of him to throw the old bandages away. Then, he got caught in what was supposed to be a passive sideways glance at Logan.
Logan must have been making some kind of face, he didn't know what, but when he and Scott locked eyes the other man froze, stunned into surprise and something almost like worry. It took a second for Logan to register it was because of him, but as he made the conscious effort to return his face to neutrality, Scott was already looking away. Thinking about something to himself.
He walked back towards Logan, refusing to meet his eyes again, then stopped at his side. He faced the opposite way, like he was trying not look directly at him. Before Logan even had the time to register his own confusion, Scott’s hand was on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. He left it there for a few seconds that felt like five minutes.
After a firm squeeze, Scott retracted and left without a word, leaving Logan alone to deal with a sudden welling sadness.
-
Over the course of the next week or so, as Logan predicted, he woke Scott up with a scare every time he had a nightmare. Several nights Scott did go back to the couch to sleep because of how frequently Logan either woke up shouting or called out in his sleep.
What Logan didn't predict, however, was that he fell back asleep faster afterwards when he didn't feel compelled as often to go check the rest of the apartment. It wasn't a regular, or even good sleep schedule, but as the weeks passed Scott said he looked less like a ghost.
He was still jonesing for a drink every night, but there was no sneaking it in under Summers’ watchful eye. Between that and the chronic exhaustion that never left him, Logan felt like his body was betraying him. He hadn't felt so alien in his own skin since he first lost his powers. On top of that, he had to kiss a lot of his pride goodbye while relying on Scott to bring him everything he needed. In the wake of that, however, he got to see a new side of his old… friend, coworker, companion, whatever. Scott became so doting when Logan didn't push him away.
When he asked Logan what he wanted to eat and Logan told him outright without any games, he would act so satisfied with himself when he came back from the store or restaurant with it. When Logan told Scott he wanted a new pair of clothes to wear around the house because wearing the same pajamas every day made them hard to wash, Scott went out and got it without complaining. When Logan needed to go to his PT appointments (which were their own humbling experience), Scott was content to sit In the waiting room the whole session and take him out for lunch after. He was like a border collie the way he got so much pleasure from being given a clear job of herding someone else around and competing it without trouble. Logan found it slightly disturbing.
He was almost clingy. And Logan knew, because he knew that man better than the gaunt stranger in the mirror, it was coming from some misplaced sense of service. It was because Scott didn't actually do anything with himself anymore. He went to the gym and on walks and to the school to help Hank with administrative duties, sure. But he didn't do anything. If it was anyone else on the team, Logan would think it was fine. But for Scott, Logan could read in between the lines. For all the bickering and disagreements, Logan recognized himself in those slow afternoons of cleaning the bathroom for the second time in a week. Scott had lost his sole purpose, and now he didn't know what to do with himself. All he had was helping Logan get better, which put Logan in a difficult position of his own.
Thankfully, he wasn't as shy as their friends seemed to be in telling Scott about it.
“You need to get off your ass and do something.” Logan said one day while rifling through the fridge. His back was still giving him trouble, but he'd been doing stretches and exercises to get the rest of him comfortable with moving around again.
Scott was sprawled lazily across the couch, reading. “What an amazing insight from the incredible bed-bound Wolverine.”
“I'm serious.” he reinforced, snagging a few baby carrots and crunching on them.
“I go outside more than you.”
“And what do you do outside? Nothin’.” he said around stuffed cheeks. “Get a job.”
“I don't need to do anything. I can sit around and relax if I want to.”
Logan stayed quiet, sans chewing, and let Scott sit with own words until he realized how wrong he was about himself. He was an indulgent workaholic; if he was doing what he wanted to do, he wouldn't be sitting around all day.
“I- I've been doing the same thing my whole life,” Scott stuttered as he tripped over his own words in his rush to argue. His voice got higher-pitched and became more and more defensive. Full-on whining mode to Logan’s ears. “So what if I take a year off? Who cares? I'm doing fine here.”
Logan let the man keep arguing with himself.
“Other people get breaks. A hell of a lot more than I did. And let's face it- it's not like there's a whole lot of good out there I can be doing right now.”
There it was.
When it was evident he wasn't getting a response, Scott lifted his head off the arm of the couch and looked at Logan in surprise.
“This is the part where you usually scold me and growl in my face about getting my act together.” Scott said with a veneer of amusement draped over an offended underpinning, one that could convince somebody that he was disappointed Logan didn't bitch at him.
“Can't say much. I'm the one slumming it at your place.” Logan tossed out as bait as he went back in the fridge for a drink. He checked the expiration on the milk. It read yesterday's date.
“Being a hypocrite has never stopped you, even once.” said Scott.
“Stop waiting around for something to happen. You don't gotta step up for anything. The world isn't ending. The future of mutants isn't at stake.” he sniffed the milk to inconclusive results, then took a sip instead. It was good enough.
“Are you drinking straight out of the gallon?” Scott asked, view blocked by the fridge door.
Logan swallowed and continued. “Nobody needs you.”
“Wow, thanks.” Scott said sarcastically, then corrected him: “Nobody needs me except for you.”
“It's a good thing. You can do whatever you want.” Logan shut the fridge door and drank from the gallon openly without remorse.
“Oh, like you?” He quipped, lying on his stomach on the couch to observe Logan. “You think I should go out and get my ass kicked?”
He threw Scott a side-eye. “I was attacked, Slim. I wasn't exactly asking for it.”
“No, you don't do what you want, only what you have to.” Scott joked. “That's why you had no choice but to get alcohol poisoning, right?”
Logan’s mood evaporated and his rage spiked. He slammed the gallon down and gripped the counter, facing away from the other man. He tried to breathe through it, but it wasn't enough.
“You think I wanted this?” he growled out in a low, warning tone.
Logan could hear Scott push himself upright behind him. The plastic handle on the milk jug crushed in his hands. He kept his eyes fixed on the counter.
“You think I was drinking that much ‘cause it’s fun? ‘Cause I got nothing better to do?”
There was an ice cold silence from the other man. Logan's face was already turning hot.
“... I didn't mean-”
Logan whipped the jug at the wall, where it bounced off without cracking.
“You don't know shit.” Everything else on the counter was starting to look temptingly breakable. Logan clenched his fists instead.
“Wait, you aren't seriously going to try to convince me that you don't like drinking? I get that you didn't mean to go overboard, but that's a big difference.” Scott argued back, almost incredulous.
Logan sifted through the expanse of reasons for his dependency and got lost trying to find any place to start. “...It's not that simple.”
“I think it is.” he said with a self-assured air and creeping overconfidence.
Logan couldn't talk himself out of snapping around to look at Scott, even though he knew it would make it worse. The man had gotten up at some point, and was half-sitting half-leaning on the arm of the couch to see Logan.
Logan resolved to give the man five seconds to explain himself.
His words came easily, fiercely, like he had been itching for the chance to say them. “You always do whatever you want, then dress it up like it's what's best for everyone. No matter how many people you hurt doing it.”
Five seconds were up and Logan wasn't too happy with that answer.
He strode across the room, ignoring the pain in his back, and jabbed Scott hard in the chest.
“No, Summers. That's what you do.” Scott tensed under his touch and stared him down. His shoulders raised and the boldness left him and Logan knew right away, Scott was going to do the stoic schtick. The “I won't react to you in any way because I'm above you” one. The kind that drove him nuts.
“You wanna sit up on your high horse and tell me aaaaall about how I'm ruining my life while you sit around stewing in your own self-pity all day, be my fuckin’ guest. But you want to tell me what I want?”
He fisted Scott’s shirt and yanked him forward so he could see as close as possible how serious Logan was. “You'd better use that big brain of yours first. ‘Cause you've known me a long-ass time, Scotty, an’ better than most, so if you wanna try to say that I've been doing this for myself-” he drew in the man, angry and clench-jawed but otherwise unresponsive, and bared his teeth as he spoke in low threat- “I take that as a personal insult.”
Logan released his shirt and shoved him back with a palm to the chest. The man had shut himself off to hold back as he often did when Logan spoke his mind, not reacting beyond the jostle of being pulled forward and pushed back. Didn't matter that Logan would rather him hit back any day of the week. No, Logan was beneath him. He wasn't worth engaging with when he was "like this". Scotty would rather wait him out than try to actually communicate when it got hard. He'd happily do shit he knew would piss Logan off and then point at him as the bad guy for getting mad. It was what he always did. It was the easy way out.
There Scott stood, like a livid statue, waiting for Logan to get mad and leave. Times like those he was close to shaking him by the shoulders and begging him to say something, because screaming insults at each other or duking it out was better than this bullshit.
Fine. He'd give the man what he wanted.
Logan shoved his boots on, not even bothering to tie them before yanking the door open.
He paused for only a beat, giving Scott the opportunity to say anything.
“Logan, come back in. You're being ridiculous.”
Oh, that faux-diplomacy. The Leader voice, giving him a hard demand, no room for insubordination. What Cyclops says goes.
Logan stormed out and slammed the door behind him.
-
He intended to pace the block, but as soon as the apartment came back into view, he had to keep walking down the street.
His first instinct was to go to the bar, but as self-destructive as he was, he wasn't a moron. It was too soon to dose himself with the poison that almost took him out. It would be a possibility again someday; the fact that he had more or less a totally fresh liver coming into human life because of his healing factor meant that he was bouncing back from everything better than the chronic alcoholics at his age. Well, physical age.
Logan kept on walking. His back wasn't too happy about it. The pain tolerance he honed made it a blip on the radar more than an impediment, something he needed to keep an eye on. Making sure he didn't push it to the point he couldn't move again.
New buildings passed him by as he deviated from the route he took with Scott in the mornings. The weather was moderate and the air was gentle on his skin. If Logan weren't in such a bad mood, he would enjoy a day out like this. He regret not bringing his wallet while passing a small panadería that smelled amazing from the outside. He didn't end up eating a real meal before taking off, and the hunger wasn't helping his attitude.
It had never been clear where Logan's anger issues started and stopped between his base nature, his mutation, and the sheer amount of things he'd been through. He'd be lying if he said part of him didn't want the burden of keeping it under control to go away entirely when he lost his powers. While he didn't go full berserk anymore, and the pot didn't boil over quite as easily, the lightswitch-flip rage had stayed a part of him.
Charles had many words for Logan about not letting his anger consume him or cloud his judgement. He'd helped a lot during their time at the school, Logan wouldn't deny it, but Logan's philosophy differed. To him, the antithesis of anger is apathy, and life is something you have to fight to keep. You gotta care about something to be mad about it, and you gotta be mad about something to fight for it. And if making the anger go away meant sacrificing that, then he'd rather stay mad.
When Scott talked down to him, he had a special way of getting under his skin. Logan knew what happened when he rolled over and let people treat him as less-than, as someone dangerous who needed to do what they were told. It was a short, steep slope to being used, which was its own slope away from being a use before being a person, until they're less than human altogether. That's how you make a man into a weapon.
That made it especially infuriating coming from a man who made himself out to be a leader in a fight for civil rights. At Scott’s best, he was all that and a whole lot more. At his worst, he was willing to let Logan be nothing more than another tool in his belt, a soldier to do his dirty work.
Logan liked him at his best too much to let him slide down to his worst, even if it made an enemy out of him. He respected himself too much to let himself be treated that way.
And as Logan's back started spasming and the anger sank down like magma, and the reel played back Scott carrying him upstairs and bringing him food and lying next to him at night while Logan sat on edge that he'd lose him, he felt ready to admit it to himself.
It hurt. It hurt him when Scott talked to him like that. He didn't like fighting with him when he was ready to put all his cards on the table and Scott was still trying to hide his tells. He'd scream at him until he got a reaction if it meant getting Scott to do the same, but ever since Jean died, he only closed himself off more.
Logan folded to his back's complaints and sat on the curb. Looking at the time, he had been walking for two hours. He probably couldn't make the trip home on his own.
Something had to change.
He dialed up Scott.
“What?” Scott snapped on the other side, already worn out.
“Right. Listen up.” Logan barked back the command. “I can't fucking stand it when you talk to me like a misbehavin’ dog. You aren't any better than me. If you got shit to say about who I am and what I do, you face me. You don't talk shit to me and then play a victim when I get mad.”
“Did you call me just to keep arguing?”
“No. I'm going first.” he spat, making clear that there would be a second that Scott would be taking. “You're not ignoring me this time."
“Logan, you yelled in my face and threatened me.” Scott’s voice was rising, agitated.
“You insulted me. Hard.”
“You started it! You're the one telling me how to live my life. You hate it when people do that to you.”
“I don’t like seeing you like this.” Logan strongly disagreed that he 'started it', and even if he did, that it warranted what Scott said. One thing at a time, though.
“You’re dogshit at it. You could have said it in a normal way.”
“Okay, and how many people already tried saying something the nice, normal way?”
No answer.
“If being an asshole is what it takes to get you moving-” Which seemed to usually be the case with Scott- “then I'm gonna do it.”
“Right, such a heavy duty that's been placed on your shoulders.” Scott said sarcastically. “I can't believe you still think I can't manage myself. I'm an adult, I can handle myself.”
“I'm worried about you, Scotty!”Logan raised his voice, abandoning the pretense. “If I'm wrong, then act like it!”
“I don't need to do anything with my life just because you’re looking down on me.”
“I'm looking down on you?” Logan said in absolute shock. “Don't act for a second like you don't think you're the bigger man.”
“I don't know what you want from me.” Defeated.
“I want you to talk to me!” he exclaimed. “I'm not psychic, Scott, I never was. You have to tell me what's going on in that head of yours. Even if you got to shout at me to do it.”
“Oh, you're one to talk!” Scott became flippant.
“I tell you what I'm thinkin’, even when you don't like it. When’s that ever not been the case?”
“Bullshit.” he spat out. “You don't tell me anything. You don't tell anyone anything that matters. You run off and let yourself get hurt over and over, and drink yourself half to death until you pass out in the street and a stranger has to call you an ambulance! And even after you give everyone who loves you the fright of their life, you still don't tell us what's actually wrong! You leave us to stay up all night worrying sick that every time we talk to you is going to be the last, and then you run away without saying sorry and start all over again!”
There was a strained silence following Scott’s outburst where Logan found himself lost of what to say. This is what he asked for. So even if Scott was right and he hated hearing it, he was glad Scott said it. He wished it felt felt better than it did.
“... Do you really think I'm just a selfish asshole, Scotty? After all this time?” Logan spoke quietly, roughly, hurt.
“N- I don't know.” Scott faltered on the other side. “... No. no, I don't. But…” There was a short exhale. “You won't talk about what happened. I change your bandages every other day and I don't even know how you got hurt.”
“That?” Logan said, unimpressed. “I was looking for a kid who was kidnapped. Turned out it was a family member, they got me off guard.”
Whatever. Fuck it. “...They left me to bleed out in the middle of the desert. I almost died.”
“What?”
“Yeah. ‘N then I fucked it all up, by drinking to pretend it didn't happen the second I got out. And then you know the rest.”
Scott said something to himself under his breath that Logan couldn't make out, then left enough room before speaking to give Logan enough time to question his decision to come clean.
“And that big cut across the middle of your back?”
“Taking down a drug cartel. Last year.”
“And the one on your jaw?”
“Beat the shit out of some lady’s abusive husband. His friends came back, one got me with the butt of a rifle.”
“And the long scratches on your right arm?”
“Blocking a chair.”
“From what?”
“Nazi bar fight with some redneck assholes. I trashed the place.”
Scott laughed at that one. Logan let a smile tease the corner of his mouth.
“Doing something good out there, huh.” Scott said, mostly to himself.
“Trying to.”
There was a considerate pause between them. “Hey, I… I really shouldn't have said that stuff about your drinking earlier. I know that's not how addiction works. I wasn't thinking.”
Addiction. Addict. Logan had been avoiding those words as long as he lived. He thought they might not even apply since his healing factor stopped withdrawal symptoms. The one smart thing he did when he lost it was stop picking up cigars so he could breathe well enough to fight, and he didn't get the physical symptoms. It was never fully clear whether he could have a chemical dependence because of his healing, or if it was all psychological on his end.
Didn't matter anymore, did it? Welcome to human life.
“Sometime, I could…” Logan dug the heel of his hand into his forehead and internally cursed himself for what he was about to say. “We could talk about it. If you want to know so damn bad.”
“Yeah- yeah. That would be great.” Scott’s voice lightened, somewhat awkward in conveying his acceptance with the tone shift. “I, um… I could catch you up, too. With me. I haven't been up to nearly as much, though.”
Logan did not know what it was that was feeling, but even though it was good, it made him uncomfortable. Like he had to go shut himself inside and not talk to anyone for three days.
“Hey, Scott?” he asked.
“What is it?”
“I need you to give me a ride, I fucked my back up.”
There was a sound that was either a scoff or a laugh on the other side. “Okay, genius. Text me your cross street.”