Growing Pains
Scott had been catching him up with where he was at in life- he wasn't lying, there wasn't much. He applied for some management jobs after the school was converted, aced all the interviews, and then turned every position down. He'd more or less been stalling since then, waiting for some epiphany, some new life direction to find him itself. He was feeling torn between happy about the many burdens off his shoulders, and guilt for being able to experience any relief from the loss of his mutation when so many others were suffering because of theirs. Logan got the strong impression he felt he was wasting the life he always wanted for himself and Jean.
Logan had a bit more to unpack, relative to his capacity to how much he could open up about himself in one sitting. He started with the loss of his powers, how it had been affecting him. The whole time he kept expecting Scott to break out laughing, to tease him, to criticize him for adjusting so badly to what everyone else has to deal with all the time. But he didn't. He listened through the whole thing and didn't say much after. Despite being the kind of thing Logan had just gotten mad at him for, he was thankful for it this time around. He wanted to be able to walk off and pretend he hadn't said anything, which Scott seemed to understand.
But that night, Logan had tucked into bed first, having pushed his gunshot-shoulder to its limits while reaching under the sink to fix the plumbing. He sat propped against a slope of pillows, reading an book on his phone. Scott came later, hanging in the doorway and putting his weight against the frame. He took in Logan's appearance without saying anything, as he was wont to do more and more those days.
Logan ignored him for the first minute, but the longer Scott stood there, the more distracting it became. Logan put his phone down and watched the neutral-faced expectantly.
“Do you need something?” Logan said sarcastically after about 10 seconds of this.
Scott pushed off the doorframe and got in his side of the bed, sitting next to Logan. He pointed at Logan's arm.
“Can I see that?”
Logan raised it off the sheets and turned it over a few times, confused. “My hand?”
“Yeah.” Scott replied innocently.
That put Logan at enough of a loss that he conceded, holding it out for him to take.
Scott took his arm by the elbow and wrist, not particularly rough nor gentle, just curious, and examined his forearm. Shoulder to shoulder against the headboard, Logan investigated Scott’s face for an answer, but found only a mild interest there.
While keeping his hold on Logan’s wrist, Scott dug his thumb into the back of Logan's arm and felt between the muscles and ligaments there. Then, he moved his own hand from Logan’s wrist to his palm and tilted it towards him, looking closely at his scarred knuckles, never deviating from his passively invested attitude. Logan allowed it all to happen.
“You lookin’ for something?” he finally asked, tired of waiting for an explanation. “I'm not hiding any claws from you in there.”
“I know.” Scott ran a finger between each of the gaps in his knuckles. “I wanted to know if it left any sort of mark.”
He released Logan's hand and let him take it back. Logan couldn't help but puff out air in a half-chuckle. “You could have asked. I could tell you they didn't.”
Scott folded his hands in his lap, crossed one extended leg over the other, and shrugged as he looked off to the opposite wall while he contemplated something.
“You didn't talk about them much, when we were talking about losing our mutations.” Scott scooted forward in bed a bit to lean back more comfortably. Logan sat up straighter to meet him at his level.
“Not much to say.” Logan answered, locked on Scott while he tried to figure him out. “I used to stab things with ‘em. Now I don't. Pretty much the least of my problems.”
“It really doesn't bother you?” Scott moved his head against the headboard to watch Logan. There was something less guarded about him in that moment, a thoughtful look about him. “When I lost my power, it was like a switch flipped off. But even then, it took me forever to get used to seeing my own eyes again. I would stare at the mirror every day.
Logan understood that, as he was currently baring the full brunt of those warm brown-with-the-smallest-touch-of-green eyes he still wasn't fully used to.
“But you lost a part of your body.” Scott shifted to be on his hip so he could face Logan, arm propped up against the pillow. He became more emphatic. “That's bone. Your hand. And you can't argue with me that you didn't use them outside of fights, we all know that's not true.”
“What, are you trying to convince me?” Logan said, unimpressed. He was feeling put on the spot. It was true that they were a part of his limbs and he used them that way. But up against everything else, it seemed insignificant.
“I don't know. I'm just asking.” Scott brought his hand up to rest his face against it.
If that was all it was, then why was he being so persistent?
“The Elf had his whole body change, and he lost a tail. Hank lost his fur and about a hundred pounds of muscle. I'm on the low end, here.” Logan reasoned.
“And you lost a hundred pounds of adamantium.” Scott argued back. “You don't have to compare yourself to them, you know.”
Not able to take the intense eye contact anymore, Logan faced forward, away from Scott.
“What are you getting at here, Summers?” he asked, detaching himself, glaring at the blank wall like it might know what the man was up to.
“It's not that serious.” Scott told the side of Logan's face. “I don't believe that it doesn't bother you, but as long as it doesn't end with in you blowing up at me, then it's your business.”
Logan considered whether he should make a joke about how he doesn’t need a reason to blow up at Scott, but he held it in. He was, however, interested in what Scott thought he was going to get so mad about. He sat all the way up and stretched, spine cracking all down its length, then faced back to the reclined Scott in earnest.
“Okay, what do you think is the problem then, boy genius?” he said in a playful challenge. “What am I so cagey about?”
Scott, still lying on his side with his head propped on his arm, returned his energy with a conceited smile. “Well, since you asked-” he pushed himself up too, not willing to let Logan be above him in any literal OR metaphorical capacity, “I think it upsets you and you don't want to admit it.”
Logan decided he was ready to make a play of his own. While sitting up, Scott had drawn his legs up into a tent. Logan crawled over and spread out sideways across the bed, draped his arm around the man’s legs, and rested his hand on one knee and his chin on the other. He was leaning over enough to be practically lying across the man. This had had the intended effect of making him flustered.
“And why would I do that?” Logan smiled and raised his eyebrows.
The smile was temporarily wiped off his face. Not willing to be so easily bested, he fought back against the attempt at regaining the upper hand by maintaining his condescending tone through the momentary lapse in his composure.
“I think it’s weird, given that you were willing to talk about everything else. Even though getting it out of you is like getting the last of the ketchup out of a bottle.” The smile was back, Scott becoming pleased with himself.
Next move. Logan moved his head from weighing on his chin to his cheek against the fabric on Scott’s knee, maintaining eye contact all the while and getting to watch the twitch under his eye. Logan slow blinked at him with smiling doe-eyes. If he had his heightened senses he could better tell which kind of agitated he was making Scott, angry or excited, but it was fun either way.
“And?” Logan said, drawing out the word in a catty tone.
“And.” Scott repeated, fighting to stay on track, brow tightening. “I think if you let anyone know that it bothered you when your claws were the ‘least’ important thing to lose, then they would know how much losing your other powers meant to you.“
Scott’s voice had drifted from prodding accusation to actual gravity. Logan’s queen was toppled. Checkmate.
As per usual, Scott had gone and ruined a good time. Logan sighed and got off of him, releasing his hostage.
“Am I wrong?” Scott asked smugly.
“You need hobbies.” Logan grunted.
-
“Hey, doc.” Logan called out to Scott in the kitchen, which didn't require that much volume due to the size of their home. “The Elf and Petey are down in Rio. I'm thinkin’ of joining ‘em for a few weeks.”
“Weeks?” The microwave door popped. “...And why am I ‘doc’, in this instance?”
“Since you're gonna tell me if you think I should, whether or not I ask.”
Logan was laying on the couch, legs crossed, waiting for Scott to return with the popcorn. He'd been texting his formerly-blue friend, having paused the show he and Scott were watching.
“I don't like the idea of you traveling alone and- I don't know, having a stroke or something.” Scott rounded the corner with a fresh bag of popcorn in each hand. He started making two at a time after Logan kept eating almost all of it himself. “What are they doing in Brazil?”
“Building some houses for charity.” Logan spoke up at the man standing over him with an irritated expression.
“You can't do that.” he said definitively. “Now are you going to let me sit down or not?”
Logan’s back was bothering him, so he really didn't want to, but he knew he wouldn't get his popcorn until he did. Heaving his upper body off the couch, he let Scott sit behind him, but as soon as the other man was down, Logan flopped backwards across his lap.
“Get off.”
“I'm not helping them. I'm visiting. Though it would be good exercise.” He snatched his bag from Scott and returned his head to the arm rest. Scott sighed in forfeit.
“You know nothing is going to happen on Kurt's watch.” Logan supplemented, stuffing his mouth with popcorn and becoming almost incomprehensible around it. “He'd become a cop before he'd let me push myself too hard right now.”
Scott took his own mouthful and didn't answer, unpausing the TV while Logan watched him from his lap, not paying the slightest attention to what was happening on screen.
If he weren't so annoyed at Scott’s newfound possessiveness, Logan would think it was funny. He wished he could snap a picture of the scene they were in and go back in time to show it to Scott a week after they met.
Taking a fresh piece of popcorn out, he lifted it up and pressed it against Scott’s sealed lips to break his focus. After a few seconds of ignoring him, the man finally turned his head in silence to look at Logan in distaste, as if he were a cat batting at him to play. Logan grinned at him, only deepening that frown. He freed Scott’s mouth and ate the piece of popcorn himself.
“You could come with if you're so worried.” Logan told him.
Scott stared at Logan's mouth as he chewed, then suddenly jerked his head back to the TV as if snapping out of a haze. He licked the butter off his lips that Logan had left. “I can't, I have to look for a new place. The lease is up here in a few weeks.”
Logan's stomach dropped before he could tell himself what to feel about it. He knew he would have to find a new place eventually, but he would have appreciated a more timely heads up. He didn't have any plans after this.
It's fine. This was temporary anyway.
“Guess you’ll have to find a two-bedroom this time, huh?” Logan joked to hide his reaction.
“Yeah, and one with more space than this. We’ll probably have to move out a bit farther, I don't know if there's much bigger around here.” Scott replied without hesitation. “I don't know, though. I haven't looked into it much yet.”
Logan blinked at him, waiting for him to crack. But he didn't. He had another handful of popcorn, snorted at something on the TV, and was completely oblivious to Logan’s reaction beneath him. Scott shifted his hips and Logan felt it under his back.
“Seriously?” he asked after waiting in vain.
Scott scoffed. “It's nice you don't care about personal space, Logan, but I've outgrown this place.” he didn't even look his way. “If you're going out of the country, at least wait until we've picked somewhere out, okay? Otherwise, I'm choosing without you.”
Logan tilted his head, as much as he could with it against the arm rest. “...You know I don't need too much help anymore, right? I'll be fine on my own by then.”
“And I get my own room again. It's a win-win. Honestly, I'm not sure why you're so attached to this place, it's not that great.”
The topic didn't come up again.
-
The new place was basically Scott’s choice anyway, Logan wasn't picky. He was glad to have his own room and privacy again. Sharing a bed with someone who wasn't a partner had come with its share of awkward mornings. More so for Scott than Logan, as he had very little sense of embarrassment left at his old age. Turns out Scott wasn't the biggest fan of waking up underneath a man who slept in his underwear at most.
Logan did appreciate being able to wake up thrashing without smacking another person in the face. Scott was a pretty big fan of that particular change, too.
But if, every now and then, Logan decided end a nighttime safety check in Scott’s bed, well, that was between them.
The two-bedroom wasn't massive, the kitchen being especially small for Logan's tastes, but it was an upgrade nonetheless. There was room to get a table so they could pick up more hobbies. Logan had found himself taking up regular cooking, which he never had a whole lot of opportunity or motivation to do before. But parts of cooking were easier back when Logan had enhanced smell; Scott gave him a hard time for egregiously overseasoning to try to make things taste how he remembered. Scott himself had been reading a lot more, bringing home a new book each week and passing it off to Logan when he was done.
Logan's back improved. It acted up when he did something too strenuous, but the more he returned to activity the better it got. He was able to travel more and more frequently again, now joined by Scott about half the time. Trouble found him, as it always did, but he didn't go looking for it anymore. There were times he found himself resolving conflict nonviolently for no reason other than not wanting to deal with Scott’s nagging for coming home bruised and beaten.
Logan often told himself he'd find his own place when he got back from a trip, but he never really got around to it. The apartment was always there when he got back, so he never had a good enough reason to.
Surprisingly, the biggest source of friction between them was when Logan brought his overnight guests home. Scott would be bitchy about it the next day after they went left, complaining about having to wear earplugs and cancel his plans to hide in his room. Logan brushed him off the first few times, but did take his points into consideration. He wasn't any more promiscuous than when they lived at the mansion. Much less so, in fact, now that he wasn't going out and getting shitfaced drunk all the time. But he almost never brought people back to the mansion with him; his encounters there were usually limited to a rotating cast of fellow team members.
So Logan started giving him heads-up texts, and instead of openly complaining, Scott would pent up his discomfort and act snippy with Logan, avoiding him for a day or two. Logan tried pursuing the topic with him, but he would always shut down and talk about something else.
It came to a head one night when he brought a partner home. Cute guy, polite, twunk-ish, didn't stay the night because he had cats to feed. Nothing to object to, from Logan’s standpoint. But the next day, Scott was shutting him out completely, stiff and irritated as he grabbed a quick breakfast. He didn't say a word to Logan the whole day.
He decided he had enough of that by evening and poked him hard in the side to provoke him, making sure he had his attention. Scott did not restrain the punch to his ribs he threw back on instinct.
Logan, who was well used to having to spar with the other man to get their points across, was more pleased with this outcome than Scott.
“Oh shit, sorry-” Scott had put his hands up and stepped back.
Logan laughed as he doubled over to clutch at his side, happy to see Scott engaging with him. Then, he surged forward to ram his shoulder into the man and knock him back a few steps, taking the air out with him.
“Are we talking this out or fighting it out, Scotty? I didn't come to play today.” he gloated as he righted himself, waiting for Scott to do the same.
“Neither.” he gasped out stubborn as he straightened back up, hand to his stomach and face taut. “There's nothing to talk about.”
Logan and Scott boxed at the gym sometimes to get Logan back in shape, and they tousled every now and then at home over disagreements. They were trained fighters who knew what each other could handle and when to back off. This was child's play.
He took a quick step forward with no intention to hit, startling Scott into throwing a punch that hit his pec with an impact that he absorbed without issue. Logan grinned at him.
“You're such a dick.” Scott sighed, shaking his hand out and stepping away.
“Come onnn, Scotty.” Logan sang, closing back in. “You know I'd rather fight. We can do this the hard way.”
He looked Logan up and down, steely and frustrated. He did not take the bait, instead kicking Logan hard in the shin.
“Worry about yourself.” Scott dismissed, then turned away to end the conversation.
Logan decided it was time to bring out the big guns. He sprang and tackled Scott to the ground, wrapping himself tightly around the other man to cushion him from any actual injury. After taking him down with a yelp, Logan took his arms out from under him to turn Scott on his back, pinned his arms down, then pressed their foreheads together so there would be no looking away.
“Logan, what the hell?!” he exclaimed and tried to push back against Logan's restraining grasp, but Logan was pressing too much of his weight down on him to get any leverage.
Scott squirmed beneath him, but Logan wouldn't give him an inch. He didn't answer, either, only kept their foreheads glued together when Scott tried to pull his away.
“Okay, I tap out, you win.” He panted.
Logan pulled his head back so he could properly look him in the eye and smile. “Glad you could see things my way.”
Scott freed an arm to smack him on the face for the comment, shoving Logan's head back earning another laugh from him. Logan pushed himself off and sat back, letting Scott sit up to do the same.
“I'll talk, but you'll be disappointed. There's not much to say.” Scott sat cross-legged and slouched over, looking tired all of a sudden.
“Why are you pissier than usual?” Logan cut right to the chase, stretching his legs out into Scott's space leaning back on his hands.
“I'm not.” Scott whined in a feeble but useless attempt to defend himself, tossing an affronted look at Logan's legs where they almost touched his thigh.
“Bullshit. I know you don't like it when bring people home, but this is ridiculous. I didn't do anything wrong.” Logan's own anger had started bleeding through. Past the playful way he'd approached the man, he really had been offended.
“No, you didn't.” Scott agreed too cordially, looking down and already constructing the professional mask he was going to hide behind before Logan's eyes. “You're an adult. You're also you. I can't expect you not to sleep around.”
He sounded like he was explaining it more to himself than to Logan, who was starting to get the feeling that Scott didn't know why he was being weird, either. That would be bad for both of them.
“But?” said Logan, unimpressed.
“But I don't like having strangers around the place.” Scott said like it was an admission and not an excuse, rubbing his brow to hide his eyes. “It would be different if I knew any of them, but I have no idea what kind of people you're bringing back into my home.”
Logan had to admit he had a point. He didn’t have a very clean track record in choices of sexual partner. In fact, he tended to choose badly on purpose prior to losing his healing factor, but that was a separate issue.
He also supposed that with how keyed up he's been, he would also be on edge if Scott was bringing random people home.
“So you'd be fine if it were people you knew?” Logan asked, watching him fidget and do anything to avoid looking Logan in the eye. Scott switched from apologetic to defensive again.
“I didn't say that.” he warned, possibly seeing where he was going with it already.
“So if I came back here with Ororo, or Felicia, or Yukio, or-”
“Okay, I'm going to stop your list right there.”
“- Hercules, or-”
“Logan.”
He matched the withering look Scott finally given him head-on with a smug smile.
But past the games, Logan knew it was a deflection. He knew Scott all too well; if the core of his problem was that he was bringing home strangers, Scott would have said so from the jump and saved them both the time. He wouldn't be cagey and avoidant.
Logan narrowed his eyes and observed the man, who was confused and indignant at the open inspection. There was the most obvious explanation that Logan had been avoiding for the sake of preserving the sanity of their living situation, but if Scott was going to keep this behavior up, it needed to be addressed.
He nudged Scott's thigh.
“Is it because I brought back a man?”
Scott almost flinched with how strongly he reacted. A storm started up in Logan's chest that must have shown on his face, because Scott immediately scrambled.
“No, it's not like that, I don't-” he sat forward, bracing himself.
“Can it.” Logan cut him off, more disappointed than angry.
He knew Scott never had an issue with these things philosophically. But he also met all sorts of people in his long life who said they were okay with queers, okay with mutants, okay with interracial couples, but when it came time to actually be around them, suddenly basic respect was too much to ask for.
But half their damn friends weren't straight. Logan didn't believe that Scott was secretly judging them this whole time. Was it really just him he had an issue with? A case of “I'm fine with gays as long as they don't rub it in my face” type?
That wasn't fair to anyone, but Logan especially kept it to himself; he'd lived through periods of time where being openly queer meant death (for his lovers, if not for him), and decades of that had conditioned him into leaving it a secret. The only reason he let any of the other mutants know about it was because he trusted them. He trusted Scott.
Scott who was watching him seethe nervously. With apprehension in his eyes, like Logan was a live wire waiting to spark.
None of it made it any sense. Unless...
Logan remembered there was one more option. One he hadn't given thought to in quite some time.
Logan knew his dirty little secret.
“You know I can smell arousal, right?” He tossed out like a fucking landmine.
Scott was taken aback. He had to shut his eyes to recuperate and mouthed Wh- a few times before saying it.
“What?”
Logan leaned back further onto his arms and folded one leg over the other, getting comfortable
“I’m saying you can't hide it, Scott. Not from me.” his words were slow and honeyed. He wanted to respect people's privacy when it came to this talent of his, so he never planned on letting this come to light. But now that he was there, he wanted to slow-roast it like pork.
Scott swallowed. His entire body was tense, face gone blank and stony in self-defense. His eyes darted back and forth across Logan's face.
“I know what used to happen to you, in the danger room…” he said, deep and venomous, lowering his volume as he went like he was hiding it from someone who might overhear. “...When we fought.”
Logan jolted forward to sit back up straight and pull his legs in as he ended his sentence, causing Scott to flinch. His eyebrows scrunched together, the only break in his rigid exterior. That, and the little twinkle of fear in his eye he might have once been able to hide behind glasses.
Logan relished in the way that the sado-masochistic pleasure he was getting from having Scott against the rungs muddled with the tender hurt anger it was covering. He lowered his voice to a near-whisper.
“Did you tell yourself it was just the adrenaline?” Logan pulled his knee up and draped an arm over it while Scott shuffled uncomfortably. “...Did Jean buy that?”
“That's enough!” Scott snapped. His stoicism was quickly overtaken by the panicked anger that came when someone brought up Jean.
Maybe Logan had crossed a line, but he didn't care. Scott's reaction told him he touched a nerve, and that's all he needed.
Logan stood up to leave, stretching out the stiffness first. He didn't look at Scott beneath him, preferring to pretend that this was all over for now. He could see him in his periphery, however, more hunched over than Logan had left him.
“Look,” Scott said with forced normalcy. “I really wasn't judging you for- I wasn't judging you. I mean it.”
He wasn't sure whether Scott was being honest or trying to sound that way. In either case, Logan decided not to bring his guests home anymore, and they never talked about it again.
-
Logan knew Scott was helping plan a big family meetup, but he didn't know at the time it would turn into the Bi-Annual X-Meet (name passed without unanimous approval).
Logan saw his friends all the time, but it was rare to get a sizeable group together. Some of them decided that needed to change, and a one-day meetup turned into regular vacations. Formally there were two a year, but informally they happened more frequently for whoever could come. Scott ended up picking out a big group vacation home out in the woods so they would have a reliable place to go, and so he could tempt Logan into coming when he felt like skipping out.
Logan guessed that everyone felt what he did after that first meet at the park. For the first time since the school closed, maybe even before that, it was like coming home.
There was an energy and excitement that just couldn't be captured by two or three people. Logan had never had it before the X-Men, so he didn't recognize it until after he lost it and got back again; it was more than a family, it was a community. As people made close friends and married and later even eventually started having kids, it only grew and grew. Logan didn't think he'd been on the receiving end of that much love since he was hospitalized.
People had a lot to say about that incident on the first meet. It had only been a couple months, but people who hadn't been visiting him and Scott regularly were leaping in his arms, kissing his cheek, putting him in headlocks, yelling at him for being stupid. He could tell who knew the truth by looks in their eyes, the ones who touched him like he was fragile instead of squeezing him tight. It drove him crazy, but he wouldn't come to talk to them about it for a while.
Logan managed to annoy Scott into letting go and allowing him to have one, singular beer. Onlookers pointed out how this was quite the change of pace for the two, and Logan flipped them off for it. But that did lead to the most fun by far, which was Scott’s embarrassment at people finding out they lived together.
He joined Scott in denying it was out of anything other than convenience, though. Unified front and all that. There were a number of conversations that led to some version of one of the two insisting that no, seriously, they weren't joking and yes, they knew it was strange too, and then changing the topic.
But every now and then Logan would throw his arm over Scott’s shoulders like they were a pair and watch him fight the urge to shove Logan off.
-
In a confined space with limited ability to duke it out to relieve tension, Logan's teasing coupled with Scott egging him on started escalating the physicality of their antics.
When they got into disagreements in public spaces, Logan liked to get up in Scott’s face until they were nearly chest-to-chest and speaking at a low volume, making him flustered. This put Scott in a position where he would have to be the one to raise his voice to argue if he wanted him to stop, thereby attracting attention from strangers.
Scott, who knew Logan had significantly less qualms about fighting in public, had his own method of shooing him off. He liked to start playing the apologetic partner, putting his hand on Logan’s arm and pointedly calling him Dear or Sweetheart to convince strangers passing by that they were a typical couple.
Under those circumstances, if Logan were to lash out like he usually did or instigate a scrap like they did at home or the gym, he would look like an abusive partner. After all, how could anyone guess that the two were professionals who knew how to let their feelings out in a fight without actually hurting each other? Logan’s pride could handle being seen as all sorts of scumbag, but violent partner was too far for him.
Once Scott realized how effective this tactic was, he utilized it often. He made it harder and harder to bite back against a sweet and polite “Honey, would you please bring the car up?” or “Could you refill my soda for me, dear?” without drawing attention for being a complete asshole. Logan usually told him where to shove it anyway, but Scott did it for the one out of ten times he complied to avoid the hassle and the sympathy Scott got from strangers.
At home was where Logan got to be the real menace whenever Scott bothered him. He was a big fan poking him in the sides when they had to move around each other, and whenever Scott wore elastic waistbands, including when the top of his underwear was ever visible, Logan would snap them against his skin as he passed. Walking out of the shower without a towel on when Scott was being too bossy was an effective way to cut him off as well, he discovered. Sometimes Scott would come home late and push Logan's food schedule back as a result, so he would go lie down for the night in Scott’s bed, forcing him to shake Logan awake and drag him out, which was its own feat.
But it didn't all really start until that night in the kitchen. Logan wanted to get moving on dinner, but Scott had been particularly bratty lately about repeat meals, so he needed to know what the man wanted so he didn't have to put up with any whining later.
Scott was having a casual conversation on the phone. Logan did not know who was on the other end and did not care, because he'd seen that man spend more than two hours talking on the phone on what he said would be a “quick call.”
He was stood between the counter and the small island, hand on his hip, firmly in the way of Logan's food prep.
“What do you want for dinner, Slim?” Logan asked as he dug through the freezer, but was blatantly ignored.
“Uh-huh. I get it. What did you tell him?” he said into the phone.
“Summers.” Logan raised his voice. “Dinner. What are we having.”
Scott listened to the voice on the other side.
Logan shut the freezer door and sidled up next to him, not stopping until his nose was five inches from the man's face to ensure that he would not be ignored any longer.
“What. Do. You. Want. For. Din-ner.” he drew the words out.
“Yeah, no, you were right to-” not reacting, not even looking his way, Scott put a hand on his chest and pushed him back.
Bastard. It would have taken him less than three whole seconds to tell who he was talking to to wait and say “pasta” or whatever. Logan wasn't a chump and wasn't about to be taken for one. Two could play at this game.
He slid between Scott and the counter as if to get on his other side, so Scott would lean into the island and be pinned at the hips between it and Logan. It was a familiar, wordless motion done a hundred times in the confines of their little kitchen.
Instead of passing by him, however, Logan stopped right there. The whole front of his body was stuck against Scott’s back.
He gave Logan the tiniest twitch of the head in his direction, possibly wanting to look back over his shoulder at him, but he did not cave.
Some could argue Logan had this coming by shamelessly interrupting Scott’s calls whenever he wanted his attention. The other man did have to make him agree to stop ripping his phone out of his hand and hanging up the call when he didn't answer Logan right away. But if Scott didn't want to be bothered, he could answer the damn question. You would think he liked those little games.
Logan put his hands on Scott’s upper waist and dug his fingers in. He was getting skinnier, squishier. Not by that much, he still hit the gym for exercise, but he didn't keep up with the rigorous training. At this distance he could hear Hank's voice. Logan buried his face in the crook of Scott's neck and blew air out to tickle him.
Scott's shoulder hitched up, but that was all.
“You should give it a week or two. Mine needed a bit of time when I moved it to its new pot-”
Gardening? Fucking gardening?
“You don't even water the plants half the damn time. They woulda died if I weren't here.” Logan complained angrily.
“Yeah, it's Logan, ignore him.”
Logan scoffed. Time for revenge, he decided. He clawed tighter at Scott’s sides and nipped him on the neck with his teeth. Scott tried to shake him off to no avail.
He persisted, nuzzling his face into Scott's hair and sniffing. The man pinched at the hands that were wandering inward while Beastie talked about petunias or whatever.
The two of them knew each other a long time. If Scott seriously wanted him to stop, he'd judo flip him over his shoulder.
The harder Scott pretended Logan didn't exist, the gutsier it made him. He stuck his nose onto the skin behind Scott's ear and felt his abdominal muscles jump involuntarily beneath Logan's hands. A mean spark lit up in Logan's chest. He pressed his lips there.
Scott sucked air in and his hand darted back to dig his nails into Logan’s thigh in warning. The phone was finally away from his face, if only by a few inches.
Then Scott recovered and acted like it didn't happen. “I missed that last part, what did you say?”
Logan clicked his tongue in distaste, and he could have sworn that the stutter in the rise and fall of Scott's lungs was a suppressed chuckle. He wondered if Scotty really knew what he was getting into here. Logan would take this dance as far as he could.
He pressed his hips further into Scott, who in turn was forced harder against the island. The other man's breath hitched. Logan ran the tip of a single finger down his stomach, over his bellybutton, to the waist of his jeans. Then, he snaked his other hand down and in one swift motion undid the button.
At last, Scott broke, ripping Logan's hands off him.
“Sorry, something’s going on, I have to call you back.” he spoke in a rush and slapped his phone down, leaning forward on his palms-down hands.
Scott made a turn to face him, and Logan squeezed himself back against the counter to give him room to twist around.
“So, about dinn-”
Their hips were against each other. Scott’s unbuttoned jeans were straining against him and Logan could feel the heat and solidity through his own pants.
“Oh.” said Logan, truly not having expected it. As deeply, deeply amusing as he found it, he reckoned with the fact that he may have taken this one too far. Scott was staring him down with fury, face flushed.
Logan clapped him on the shoulder, intending to slip out and give him space, but Scott jumped at the contact. He looked at Logan's hand, then back at his face, harried and tense. His breathing was heavy against Logan's stomach.
Curiosity got the better of him, though he knew he shouldn't. Logan held his fingers up to the hot skin of his neck and felt his pulse to see how fast Scott's heart was beating. The man's intense, frustrated stare didn't leave him once as he did.
Logan processed the fact that they were still jammed together like sardines and Scott wasn't resisting him at all. He squinted at the flurried face in front of him, trying to parse what the man was thinking.
Wondering if he ought to give him what he seemed to want.
Logan moved his free hand to Scott’s waist and measured his reaction carefully. His muscles were bunched beneath the skin, his whole body clenched like he was fighting something inside of himself. This restraint of Scott's was something that always drove Logan crazy in one way or another; it was like someone put a balloon in front of him and handed him a needle and said this one won't pop, no matter how hard you try. Naturally, he poked and poked to prove them wrong.
Logan pulled them together up chest to chest in a forceful motion. Scott’s hands, which had been lingering on the island behind him, reflexively came forward to grab Logan back. They were iron tight around his sides, enough to leave bruises. Scott's expression was mean with how tight he was holding it. Their faces were close now, the usual fighting distance. Logan sniffed instinctively, like he might be able to smell the anger and/or arousal on him again.
“Are you-”
His words were lost against Scott’s open mouth. Hands were on his jaw before he could blink, but Logan was quick on the update.
It was sloppy and intense and not even that great of a makeout, but it didn't matter. They weren't thinking, their bodies were on autopilot, taking what they wanted. Hands were on one body part and moving away to another just as quickly. Their noses kept mashing against each other as their faces adjusted, pulled away for a breath, came back. Every single part of their torsos that could be touching were flush against each other. Logan lost his balance and fell onto the counter with how hard Scott was forcing him back into it.
Logan lifted up the fronts of both their shirts just so there could be more skin contact. They were like two waterfalls crashing together, merging into a single flow.
Like they hadn't known each other for years, like they weren't crossing a line they'd never even touched before. Something had burst and they decided without speaking that they couldn't wait anymore, that any pomp or circumstance or foreplay was a waste of their time. And right there, over the kitchen counter, Logan let Scott unceremoniously take him from behind.
Logan convinced Scott to use olive oil as lube, scared whatever spell had fallen over them might break if he left to get his own bottle. He was certain Scott would refuse, but he must have been thinking the same thing, because he went along with it. He kept his chest glued to Logan’s back even though it made everything more difficult. Scott's fingernails raked over Logan's chest over and over while he bit hard into Logan's shoulder and Logan's own hands scrambled uselessly against the counter.
It was rough, messy, at a bad angle, and over much too quickly. And it was way, way better than it had any right being.
There was a period of mutual stunned silence immediately after, Logan leaning his weight on the counter and resting his sweaty forehead against the cupboard, Scott pressing the weight of his upper body on Logan, hands refusing to release Logan's hips.
A switch flipped and Scott came to his senses, fixing his pants and rushing out of the kitchen. Then, Logan assumed he must have realized how badly that came across, and quickly returned to place a friendly smooch on Logan’s neck before heading off to the bathroom, which drew a laugh from him.
Logan was left to clean up as thoroughly as possible, since he still intended to cook, then took his turn in the shower while Scott hid in his bedroom. Then he proceeded to make the best steak carbonara of his life.
The other man didn't come out for a while, except to get a glass of water in new clothes and avoid eye contact. Logan wasn't upset; he'd been enough men’s firsts to recognize what was happening when he saw it. It had nothing to do with him directly, so Logan resolved to give him space while he rode out his own chemical high.
Logan called out when dinner was ready, and was surprised when Scott joined him on the couch to eat. The two didn't talk about what happened. They sat together, enjoying their food and watching TV in silence like nothing happened.
They didn't talk about it after that, either. It never came up again. Logan waited for him to say something when he was ready, but the time never came.
What happened instead, once or twice a month, was a series of similar instances that also ended without word or further mention.
The first time it was Scott who initiated, sort of. Scott was monopolizing the bathroom after the shower, taking forever with his hygiene routine. Logan came home from a workout not willing to wait, so he helped himself to a shower while Scott shaved. Two men in a small bathroom in only towels, one with an unstoppable libido and the other desperately fighting unspoken urges, one thing led to another and they wound up in the bedroom not long after.
It was never planned. Usually Scott initiated, to Logan’s delight. He'd intrude on Logan’s room late at night, standing in his doorway ready to go with a dumb smirk, waiting wordlessly for Logan to drag him inside. Logan was never so polite when it was his turn; he would climb right into Scott's bed, invite himself into Scott's showers, shove him onto the couch, or lure him to the kitchen under the false pretense of trying whatever he was cooking.
They didn't communicate as much as they should have during their escapades. The events were spaced out enough that Logan never felt he should have to. He was long used to these kinds of affairs, where any real conversation felt like breaking a silent contract, making the whole thing feel more real than it was. If anything, he was worried about what it was doing to Scott and the steak-and-potatoes relationship sensibilities the man thought of himself as having. But he didn't want to discuss it, so Logan didn't make him.
They also didn't talk about the times it turned more friendly, more tender. When they shared the bed for the night, pressed into each other. A held hand during, a kiss that became too gentle.
Logan had to talk him through his first time bottoming, struggling to make himself be as patient as he would normally, given his usual rapport with the man. But it ended well for both of them (it was certainly the loudest Logan ever heard him), so he couldn't complain.
On the other hand, Scott couldn't stop gagging the first time he took him orally, and Logan had to convince the needlessly determined man to stop and recognize his limits. He pulled Scott up to the pillows, eyes watering from the failed attempt, and Logan held him until they fell asleep together with no further action.
They didn't talk about that either.
Logan knew it was a lot of new experiences for Scott. He wasn't a psychic, wasn't laboring under the idea they were soulmates, wasn't even particularly looking to get along the next day. He didn't want to take him apart piece by piece and build him back up. He didn't want to connect on a deep, astral level.
He wanted to play. He wanted to poke and prod and see what made him tick. They were entangled in the excitement of getting to learn about each other, teach each other, discover something new. No emotional turmoil, just good ol’ fashioned fun, the kind Logan knew Scott liked to deprive himself of. That's why they couldn't ever stop and have the talk that would turn it into something more serious.
But Logan didn't want serious, and he knew Scott didn't either. He wouldn't be playing those games if he did. No, the man was working something out of his system, using the easiest available option. And when it came to sex, Logan was nothing if not the easiest available option.
Logan had been with plenty of men who specifically wanted him for the purpose of being a first. He was an outlet for people to feel dangerous, but ultimately test their sexuality in complete safety. They could get what they wanted and move onto the next person with no strings attached. Either they would realize they didn't like men and find a nice lady to settle down with, or realize they did and find someone who made an actual suitable partner (i.e.: not him).
It couldn't be clearer that's what Scott was doing with him. It even sometimes came complete with miniature identity crisis sessions where the man would need to spend the rest of the day alone.
As much fun as Logan was having, he wanted Scott to get over it. He wanted him to hurry up and find a good woman (or man now, he supposed. Or other, Logan didn't know where Scott was at with that) so he didn't end up wasting more precious time of his life than he needed to on some fling, one that he had to have also known would end with hurt feelings if it went on too long. Scott was supposed to get out there and get that dream life with a nuclear family and a decent, mediocre job in a decent, mediocre neighborhood.
For himself, sure, but also for the rest of the no-good unstable sons-of-bitches like Logan that Scott threw his hat in with when he decided to call the X-Men his family. He was supposed to be happy and normal and fucking bland to prove they could be, after living ostracized from humans their whole lives and all the apocalyptic bullshit they'd been through. If Summers couldn't do it, none of them could. That's what he believed.
And he couldn't do that if he stayed hung up on Logan.