Buttercup Part 2
The airport was hard. Logan had never been a fan, of course, but without the blackbird he had to put up with them more in order to see his friends as often as he wanted to. Which was often, with no world to save. With human senses it was easier, but Logan simply didn't have a personality compatible with waiting in loud, crowded places for long periods. And then spending hours in a confined space with them, stuck in the same sitting position, unable to smoke and nothing to do with his hands. It was all much less irritating when he had someone to keep him company, which he was strikingly bereft of at the moment.
He bought the plane ticket on the cab ride over, but the flight wasn't for a few hours yet. Thankfully, there was an overpriced airport bar to keep him company. He paced himself, the purpose of the alcohol being to distract him, not get him plastered. At some point he cut himself off to wander around buzzed until it was time to board.
After touching down and getting a ride to the LeBeau house, it occurred to Logan that he should have texted to confirm he was coming. Oh well.
Anna Marie must have seen the car pulling up, because his knuckles barely touched the front door when it was thrown open to reveal his friend, pregnant belly much larger than the last time he saw her. He started to say hello, but didn't get a word out before he was pulled into a constricting hug that he returned without complaint.
Logan took a deep inhale of the hair his face was buried in. He smelled the shampoo more than he smelled her. He hated that. Anna Marie rubbed his back in soothing circles, no judgement, no chastisement, just a silent offer of support. He was grateful she couldn't see whatever face he was making, because it couldn't have been pretty. When she retracted, he held her face and kissed her on the forehead just so he could prolong it.
Remy, as soon as he popped into view, greeted Logan loudly and clapped his hand on his shoulder as he retracted from Anna Marie.
“What about a hug for me?” Remy teased. “Don’tcha wanna smell me too?”
“I already got a whiff of your cologne the second the door opened, Cajun. I've had enough.” Logan smirked, but accepted the hug regardless. He was starting to pull back when the man opened his blasted mouth again.
“Don't I get a kiss?” he joked.
Logan called his bluff by stuffing his mouth into the side of his hair and planting rapid, gross smooches.
Remy instantly dropped his cool with a yelp and tried to back off, but Logan dug his fingers into his sides like prey and chased him.
“No! Ew!! I forfeit, you maniac!” he shouted while Anna broke down in a fit of laughter.
“That's what you get for playin’ chicken, stupid boy.” she berated him.
Then the door shut behind Logan and he heard one too many footsteps.
He swiveled and parried a strike to the head with no problem, but had to pivot quickly to catch the knee to the side.
Jubilee sent a few more hits his way that he blocked before he swept her feet under her and she hit the floor.
“Surprise attack.” she said from the ground.
“At least you don't shout it before jumping on me anymore.” he said, offering a hand up and turning to his smiling spectators. “Were you watchin’ her hide behind the door the whole time?”
“I gotta keep you sharp, old man.” Jubilee answered for them. “Can't have you getting soft on us.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, thanks.”
Logan retrieved his duffle bag from where it fell on the floor while Anna explained that Jubilee had detoured to visit on her current road trip, then heard them mention that Logan might be coming over and extended the stay. The Lebeau house was old and spacious, with more than enough room for visiting guests.
Jubilee picked up fast that something was up with Logan. Then again, he wasn't exactly hiding how tired he felt. He shot Anna Marie a Look during her questioning, and she got Jubilee off his back long enough to settle in with a promise to explain later.
Logan plopped his bag on the floor of the guest room and laid out on the bed to stretch his back out. However, within minutes of hitting the mattress, he passed out.
It was dark out when he came to, and two of the three cats had wandered in and cuddled up with him. He was bleary and uncoordinated, dragging himself out of bed and stomping downstairs to the smell of food.
Jubilee made fun of his bedhead and Anna Marie pulled a chair out for him at the table while Remy brought the plates out. It was a nice, normal, standard family dinner. Logan was silent throughout the meal, numb and disconnected. Instead of scarfing it down like usual, he had a couple bites and picked at the rest for the duration. The other three did him the dignity of carrying on conversation like nothing was wrong, but he caught their occasional glances at his plate.
When they were done eating, he excused himself from the table and locked himself back in his room with the cats for company, where he stayed the rest of the night.
The next morning he considered giving up and staying in bed all day, but he didn't want to fall into that same routine in someone else's house. He forced himself up and outside to the swinging bench in the backyard, where he sat feeling spaced out and tired.
Jubilee, who must have heard him walking through the house, came out to join him. They sat together and watched sparrows peck at the grass for a minute before she started talking. Really, he was impressed that she held herself back for that long.
“Remy told me about Buttercup.”
Logan kicked the ground to set the hanging bench in motion. “That all he tell you?”
“Yeah.” she crossed her legs to let the seat swing. “He said to ask you if I wanted to know more.”
Logan snorted. On the surface it was an act of respecting Logan's privacy, but he knew the real reason was because Remy didn't want to be the one to deal with her reaction. He didn't blame him. Logan was prolonging it as much as possible.
“Well?” she demanded.
“‘Well’, what? You didn't ask anything.”
That earned him a hard punch to the shoulder. “You're super depressed. It's weird. I don't like it.”
“Everyone else seems to think so too.” he said, trying to convince himself that wasn't pissing him off as much as it was.
“I guess it's not that weird-” she backtracked. “But what are you doing down here?”
She was going to blow up the second she told him about the drinking.
“I'm avoiding Scott.” he blurted out, surprising himself with the honesty.
“What? Why? I thought you guys were cool now?” she said, shocked.
That made him laugh again. “Yeah, well, you know how it is with me and him.”
“I never would have guessed in a hundred years that you guys would be sharing an apartment, so obviously I don't.” she reached a leg out and kicked the ground to swing again.
That wasn't news. Everyone was surprised. He was surprised.
“Did you get in a fight?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Dunno. Because I'm an asshole and so is he.” He spread his arms out across the back of the bench and leaned his head back. “I think he'll probably move out.”
“That's a bit extreme. Not everybody solves their interpersonal problems by running away, like you do.”
That was a completely fair statement, but he had to flick her in the forehead for the transgression.
“Ow!” she batted his hand away.
“I told him some things I shouldn't have. About me.”
Jubilee stopped rubbing her head and turned serious. “What does that mean?”
“Means…” Means I was stupid to think he could help. It means I was stupid to think he could handle it in the first place. It means I let my fucking guard down. I expected too much of him.
“Logan?”
He blew out the breath he was holding. If it were a close friend like Kurt or Ororo, maybe he could have said everything he told Scott again. He knew if he expressed those feelings around them, he'd get a much different response. But they were busy, off with their own lives, and he wasn't about to interrupt them with his personal garbage. It was different with his kids too, like Jubilee. It didn't matter how grown up she was, he couldn't burden her with that knowledge. It was his responsibility.
Logan stood up.
“Oh, no. Don't you dare walk away!” Jubilee grabbed his wrist and kicked him so hard in the back of the knee that he fell back into his seat.
“Good application of force.” he praised his student.
“Thanks. Don't change the subject.” she kept an iron grip on his wrist, and only let go when she saw him slump back in defeat. “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here? Well…” Time to bite the bullet. “I'm here because I called up Anna Marie in the middle of the night completely wasted.” he admitted. “And then showed up drunk at Kitten’s house and passed out on her floor.”
There was a silence about the span of three seconds where Jubilee overcame her shock and lit up in anger.
“You what?” she exclaimed, and Logan smiled in spite of himself.
She leapt to her feet to face him and yelled without restraint. “You said you weren't going to do that anymore! You can't!” he nodded along. “What if you got sick again? What if you died?!”
“It wasn't that-”
She kicked him in the leg. “I don't want to hear it! You're supposed to get old with us now, you dumbass! What's the point of having us around if you're going to run off alone the second things get hard? Stop looking at me like that, I'm being serious!”
He had been occupied with the comforting familiarity of Jubilee's outburst, and it must have been showing on his face. He forced it to go away at her confrontation about it.
“I know you are.” he took hold of one of the arms she'd been wildly waving around like they could still shoot sparks at any second and lowered it carefully. “I know.”
She watched him so avidly, so hurt.
“Why didn't you come to one of us first?” she asked, the fight leaving her.
“You all got your own lives now, kid. You don't need some sad old drunk imposin’.” he let her go. “Besides, she was just a dog , right?”
That seemed to make her more sad than anything else he'd said.
“Of course not. She was your best friend, wasn't she?”
…That was what did it.
There was nothing he could do about the tears that sprang to his eyes except try to shield them from view with his hand as they spilled down his face.
Jubilee surprised him again by pulling his head into a hug against her shoulder. He fought his body as hard as he could, but the rusty old pipe holding everything in broke and Jubilee's shirt became damp under his face. Hitched breathing turned to airy sobs that were long, long out of practice.
“I probably shouldn't have shouted at you.” Jubilee said quietly.
“No, I'm glad you did. I need to be yelled at sometimes.” He sniffed sharply to keep the mucus from running onto her shirt as he pulled back and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Can I have a minute?”
Jubilee let go, face painted with concern. “If you run off to a bar, Anna Marie will kill you for real. We’ll tag-team beat your ass.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” he assured her with a half-hearted smile. She went back to the house, throwing back one last conflicted look as she opened the screen door.
“I love you, Logan. You're not bothering us, you know that? Not me, or Anna Marie, or Kitty. You raised us better than that.”
Dammit, Jubs. he thought to himself. I'm trying to stop crying.
“I love you too, kid.” he croaked.
They exchanged sad, determined smiles, and parted ways. With slightly more dignity to his name, Logan cried to himself.
He stayed for five days total that blew by. The hard topics didn't come up again, which he was grateful for. He was on the receiving end of some cajoling from Anna Marie to talk to Scott, but Remy was comfortable laughing and joking about the whole thing like nothing was wrong. Which was his own honest, if tactless, attempt at helping by making it a less uncomfortable topic. Jubilee made herself his personal manager slash bodyguard, never letting him leave the house alone so he wouldn't go running off to a bar, to no end of his complaining.
It was nice. The grief didn't leave, but it was quieter, easier. Logan made himself useful with repairs around the place and making food for Anna Marie while Remy was out volunteering with the local delinquents. She got grumpy at him for it, because apparently her husband had been a little overprotective of her during the pregnancy. She took some convincing that Logan was doing it more for himself than her.
It all reminded him what sort of company it was that he'd been keeping all those years.
He didn't have another hard day until he found himself with nothing to do. Jubilee had joined Remy with his friends for a night on the town, and Anna Marie turned in early because she wasn't feeling well.
Being left alone with his thoughts was something he'd always wanted when he wasn't feeling like himself. When did that change? When did it become harder?
Whenever he'd gotten to be such a mess, he supposed.
Instead of being able to abandon his thoughts, his mind kept whirling in circles from one self-loathing notion to another. He considered throwing his friends’ trust to the wind and going out for a drink. He really, strongly considered it.
Scott hadn't reached out at all, but that didn't stop Logan from checking his phone every night. As sick to death as he was of people acting like the man was his caretaker, the lack of correspondence was gnawing at him. Logan was mad he was even thinking about him, but more than that, he was mad at how much this cohabitation of convenience had turned into a central part of his life.
Useless, useless, useless.
Logan convinced himself that the bathtub could use a scrub and went looking for cleaning products. His search led him underneath the bathroom sink, where he felt around and noticed something back behind the pipe.
He withdrew a near-full bottle of Jack Daniel's. Remy's, undoubtedly hidden there from Logan.
They didn't even think Logan could see someone else's booze without giving in. Didn't matter if they were right or not, it stung like hell. He squeezed the neck of the bottle in his fist and felt his stomach churn, telling himself to put it back over and over, to not prove them right.
Pathetic. Miserable. Pitiable.
Logan shoved the bottle back, slammed the cabinet door shut, and stormed off to his room to cool down. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he pulled his phone out and called Scott.
It was already ringing when he realized what he was doing. He stared at the screen at Scott’s name and number with no idea why he'd done this. It was completely thoughtless.
When the phone stopped ringing, Logan breathed in relief and lowered it.
“Hello?” a voice graveled through the speaker.
Shit .
Scott must have picked up right at the end of the last ring. Logan couldn't bring himself to raise the phone to his ear, so he hit the speaker button.
“Logan?” his voice was tight and sleepy. Logan noticed it was midnight; he'd woken Scott up.
His voice caught in his throat. He didn't know what to say, he didn't even know why he'd called in the first place.
“Goddammit, did you pocket dial me?” Scott grumbled. “Asshole.”
It was good to hear him. A few more seconds passed. Scott wasn't hanging up.
Logan cleared his throat. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Scott said quickly, an octave higher.
More silence.
“What is it?” asked Scott.
Logan didn't answer.
“Are you drunk again?” Scott said in a flat tone.
“No.” he responded firmly, speaking at last.
And then he couldn't figure out what to say next, so he didn't say anything.
“Okay, if you don't need anything-”
“Don't hang up.”
Logan surprised himself with his own words, especially with how desperate he sounded. Scott, responding to his tone, stayed on the line. There was another long pause.
“You're with Anna Marie and Remy?” Scott asked awkwardly to break the silence.
“Yeah.” his own voice was quiet, weary. It was almost foreign to his ears. “Yeah, uh… Jubilee stopped by too.”
“That's- That's good. How is she?”
“... Good. Same as last time.”
The call timer on his phone said two more minutes passed until one of them spoke again, neither apparently wanting to hang up.
“How long are you staying down there?” Scott asked.
Logan ground his hand onto his forehead. “I don't know. I should-” he cut himself off, not wanting to commit to anything. “I don't know. I don't know.”
Pause.
“Do you…” Logan rolled his eyes at himself for asking. “Do you want me to come back?”
He truly thought he knew the answer before Scott said it.
“Of course I do.” he said, like it was a stupid question.
Logan didn't bother masking his confusion. “What?”
“Do you- did you think I didn't?” Scott faltered.
He didn't answer. More silence.
“Look, it’s late, and I'm drifting off…” Scott sounded regretful, but it was late and Logan didn't have anything else to say.
Logan blinked and snapped out of it. “Yeah, uh- I'll go.”
“Okay.” sharp inhale. “See you.”
“Yeah.”
Logan threw the phone aside and wondered how it was that his stomach felt better but he could feel his pulse in his face.
He wanted that fucking Jack Daniel's.
He got up and locked his own bedroom door, like that would do anything to stop him, and stayed in bed for the rest of the night.
He woke up after every dream drenched in sweat until the sun rose.
Logan took up space for another two days before shipping off back home in the wee hours of morning. He was given a fond farewell from the LeBeau couple, and a reminder that he could always come by if he needed. He thanked them as much as he was capable, which wasn't all that much, but the message got across. Jubilee offered to climb in a suitcase and tag along, and Logan laughed and made her promise to visit him soon instead.
It was noonish when Logan wandered back on into the apartment. Scott's door was closed, but it was too late in the day for him to be asleep, so Logan figured he was out somewhere. He noticed with a pang that Buttercup's food and water bowl had been removed at last from their spot in the kitchen.
His own room was untouched, as much of a disaster as he left it, nightstand and shelves knocked over and broken with half his possessions scattered across the floor. It was honestly embarrassing. His shoulders sagged with emotional exhaustion at the thought of dealing with it.
He used to fight giant deadly monsters on less rest.
Logan dropped his duffel, grabbed a trash bag, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work standing the shelf back up and picking up the pieces of broken wood. It was cheap and flimsy anyway, he could get another. A few framed photos had shattered, leaving broken glass in the carpet that he was going to have to vacuum up, and would probably be cutting his feet on periodically for a long time. He carefully picked the photos out and set them in a stack to reframe later.
A thunk from outside his room startled him, and he rushed out to investigate. Scott's door was open.
Logan rounded the corner to the kitchen and saw the man in a t-shirt and pajama pants standing in front of the fridge. Alarmingly, he had the stubble of someone who hadn't shaved in a few days. His hair was a greasy mess, like he'd just rolled out of bed. He looked startled to see Logan.
“Oh. You're back.” he sounded like he'd been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.
“... I'm back.” Logan said, taking in his appearance.
Scott grabbed a drink from the fridge and walked off back to his room, avoiding eye contact.
“Scott?” Logan asked after him to the sound of a shutting door.
He wondered what could have happened while he was gone to prompt a burnout like this, but he'd been in too much of an emotional daze himself to figure it out.
Looking through the cupboards, there wasn't much left in the way of food, but he found some apples that were probably on the way out. He could work with that.
Taking a break from cleaning, Logan set to making an apple pie from scratch. The whole time he waffled between hoping Scott would come back out to talk, and hoping he stayed in his room so he didn't have to figure out what to say.
He finished picking up his things and vacuuming while the pie was in the oven. Scott didn't emerge once the whole time. Logan plated a slice for him, covered it in seran wrap, and set it on the floor outside his door. Then, he was stuck with the image of Scott stepping on it because he had no idea there was a slice of pie in front of his door, so Logan found a piece of paper and wrote “Pie” with an arrow pointing upwards and slid it under the crack.
It was worrying when Scott didn't come out for the rest of the day. Scotty didn't do that. Normally when the man wasn't feeling well, he pushed himself to get something done, to exercise, to prep food or clothes, to work on something. Getting him to relax was a feat.
Logan tried to clean up around the apartment, which was messier than Logan left it, and sat with a book to pass the time. He had to fight his own nature to bust into Scott’s room and confront him directly. “Bother Scott” was essentially one of his basic instincts, after all. It was a struggle, but he soldiered through.
Once it was dark out, he couldn't ignore his antsy energy anymore. He sat beside Scott’s door with his phone and waited him out for several more hours.
When the door opened at last, the man looked just as sloppy as he did before. He stared down at the plate on the ground for a few seconds.
“Logan, I don't want this.” he said.
Sighing, Logan got to his feet, took the plate and fork, and scraped the slice into the kitchen garbage. Then, he took the rest of the pie over to the bin and prepared to do the same.
“No, no - stop.” Scott interrupted with tired annoyance. “Don't do that. I'll have it later, alright?”
Logan put the dish back down and started washing the plate and fork. Scott burned a hole in the back of his head.
“What do you want?” Scott asked, and Logan couldn't pick out from the short sentence how mad he was.
He glanced over his shoulder, seeing more exhaustion than anger, and turned around. “It'd be nice to talk.”
Scott took that in, then nodded. “Let me shower first.”
Logan was sitting on the couch when the other man got out from the bathroom with clean clothes on. He joined Logan where he sat, facing the blank TV.
“So.” said Scott.
“So.” repeated Logan.
“What did you want to talk about?”
“I'm not sure.”
That got a surprised laugh from Scott, and Logan smiled along. The tension in the air lessened somewhat.
“You finally growin’ that beard out?” Logan asked.
“Shut up. You know I'm not.” Scott responded with playful irritation.
“I'm, uh…” Logan tried to gather his thoughts, but they wouldn't cooperate. “I'm not good at this stuff.”
“I'm aware.”
Logan tsked.
“I'm saying it's fine, take your time.” Scott said in an annoyed but forgiving tone.
“It's-...” Logan threw his head back. He had felt like he had so much he wanted to say, but now that he was here, he didn't have anything at all. Maybe all he wanted was to hear Scott talk again.
Ever since that prolonged silence in Logan's bedroom following his admission of self-destructive desires, he’d been left feeling like he was waiting for some answer he hadn’t gotten. Scott had said he didn't know what to do; well, he had time to think on it, and Logan needed to hear about it.
He decided not to try to be something he wasn't, and keep it simple.
“I want to know what you're thinking.” he said with new resolution.
That earned him a confused beat of silence. “... Is that it?”
Logan looked at Scott. He was watching him inquisitively.
“Yeah. That's it.”
He was passing the reins to Scott, letting him steer the conversation. It's the only thing he could think to do. He bumped his knee against Scott’s, telling him to accept the offering and get on with it.
“Okay. Sure.” Scott reoriented himself sideways on the couch to face Logan, who followed suit. The man was nervous, jaw clenching and unclenching. He fiddled with the fabric of the back of the couch between his fingers, face tense but eyes betraying his uncertainty. “I need to apologize.”
“... What?” said Logan, aghast.
Scott squinted in confusion. “What are you so upset about? Isn't that what you wanted?” he scanned Logan’s own perplexed face.
“I wanted to know what was on your mind, about… I don't know, the whole thing.” he shrugged.
Scott blinked and shook his head. “Well, this is what's on my mind. I…” he took a deep breath. “I could have reacted a lot better. You opened up to me, and I know what that's like for you. But I was overwhelmed, and all I could think about was what my next move was. I asked you to be vulnerable, and when you did, I shut you out.” There was sincere regret in his voice, like he was ashamed of himself.
Logan went blank.
“It's just that, even now, I don't think of you as… as having those kind of thoughts about yourself. It scared me.” Scott confessed, glancing off to the side to hide his nervousness. “You're you . You don't-...” he shook his head. “That was wrong.”
Logan bit down. He knew it was too much to saddle him with. “Look, it's not your problem, alright? Just forget about it.”
Scott barked a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Logan, when have you been anything other than my problem?”
Logan looked away, because he was right, and he hated when Scott was right.
“Look, you've been acting like I'm your responsibility ever since I landed with you. I'm sayin’ you can let it go. I won't hold it against you.” The anger was mixing in with defeat as he held himself back again. Scott was good at keeping a distance. Logan was good at pushing. It ought to have stayed that way.
“Do you want to move out?” Scott asked, almost aggravated.
The question hit him out of nowhere. “... If that's what you want, you can just say so.”
Probably for the best, Logan thought. Scott had been spending too much time fussing over Logan, not enough getting his own life.
“That's not what I said.” Scott pressed.
“Well, I could,” Logan said, turning sarcastic on a dime, “but I might miss you tellin’ me to pick up my shit too much.”
Scott did not take it as a joke. He took it deadly serious, and didn't seem to appreciate that Logan wasn't.
Logan wished he would take it seriously. He wished he could just say that he missed him when he was gone. But he was a stubborn bastard on his best day, and he couldn't change overnight.
Scott pursed his lips and recollected himself. “I talked to Hank while you were out of town. He said some interesting things.”
“He does that.”
“I think,” Scott stepped on the end of his sentence to press forward. “That it could be possible, that…” he shifted around uncomfortably. “That maybe, I've been treating you like my responsibility because I don't know what else I'm supposed to be doing. I think… It's the only way I know how to treat people. And with you being… you, it was an easy way to latch that onto someone else.
“Hank said, though…” he raised his eyes to the ceiling, perhaps not believing his own words. “that I'm using being responsible for you as an excuse.”
“To avoid your own problems?” Logan suggested helpfully.
Scott closed his eyes to tap into his patience, mouth off to the side as he chewed the inside of his cheek. “Yes,” he said at last with barely contained annoyance, “but also to-”
He was really struggling to get those next words out.
“To keep you around.” he admitted, keeping his eyes closed for another beat to avoid seeing Logan's reaction.
And Logan's reaction? He couldn't say that he didn't have his suspicions, but he'd always dismiss them. What sense did they make? Why would Scott choose this for any reason other than misplaced obligation?
Scott had gone stoic again, obviously steeling himself as he waited for a response. Even admitting this to Logan in the first place was unusual for him; it was the kind of thing he would hear from someone else, compartmentalize, and never touch again. Not tell him. Not give him an opportunity to make fun of him for it.
Logan supposed he should say something.
“Scott, I told you. We're not a team anymore. You don't have to keep an eye on me.” Logan chided him.
The smallest, tightest smile found its way to the man's face, then faded as soon as it came. “That's where you're wrong.”
Logan tilted his head, not able to make sense of Scott anymore. “How's that?”
He raised his eyebrows and his eyes shone brightly beneath. “We are still a team.”
Damn it, Scotty.
God damn it.
Logan had to look down at his hands folded in his lap to speak again.
"I missed you.” he conceded quietly. “While I was gone.”
Scott's defenses fell away for a moment, replaced by a new attentiveness and something scarily like hope.
“I figured you'd want me out after all that, but…” Logan was back to watching him closely for any change in demeanor, but there was none to be found.
“It's not like I-” he was going to say it's not like I have anywhere else to go, but that didn't feel fair. “I don't mind sticking around.” he amended.
That smile of Scott's came back in full force and Logan couldn't help but mirror it and wonder when exactly they got to this point. Maybe it was some time after Logan moved in. Maybe it was when they lost their powers. Maybe it was years before that.
“In that case,” Scott said in that special confident way he had when he was about to say something he knew would get to Logan. “Why don't we get a house?”
Logan reeled and blinked slowly at Scott’s enthusiasm. “As in, buy a house?”
“We're rich, who cares?” Scott said in an uncharacteristically brazen manner, clearly appealing to Logan’s logic more than his own.
“You-” Logan gestured a hand at Scott, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. He spoke in a lecturing voice, like he had to explain something obvious to a student. “We're not living together forever, Scotty. You gotta go get that wife and kids and picket fence.”
Scott, too, relaxed and put his arm over the back of the couch to join Logan’s. Arguing was much more comfortable territory for both of them.
“That's not happening tomorrow, and I don't want to live in an apartment forever.” Scott said, much too casually for Logan's taste.
“Okay. How about you go on a date and explain why you've bought a house to share with another man?” he pointed in an accusatory fashion.
“Not that it's any of your business,” Scott said defensively, “but I'm not looking to date right now. I've never really dated around, you know that.”
Logan bobbed his head to the side and gave him a condescending look. “You're not getting any younger, Slim.”
“You sound like a grandma.” he scoffed.
“That's because I'm old.”
“Look, I already have a son. It's not… a conventional relationship, but I'm already trying to make up for lost time with him. Another kid would be a lot. And,” he said pointedly. “I don't see you settling down either.”
Logan motioned around the apartment. “This is about as ‘settled down’ as it gets for me. Besides, you know…” he trailed off with a short sigh, working out how to voice his belief that any relationship he took seriously was doomed. “You know how that works out for me.”
Scott brushed it off for Logan's sake and raised a brow. “You're telling me ‘Uncle Logan’ doesn't want to raise any kids of his own?”
Logan crossed his arms at the name but answered nonetheless. “Well, since you asked, I got to visit a couple kids of mine lately. And I think they turned out just fine.”
Scott softened and warmth spread to eyes in a way that made Logan’s chest ache. Or maybe it was his own admission that did it.
The other man overcame whatever momentary appreciation he'd been burdened with and went back on topic. “Look, we have enough money from Charles that we can move again if it doesn't work out for any reason.”
Arms still crossed stubbornly, Logan shrugged a single shoulder. Scott reached out and put a hand on his arm, snapping him to apt attention.
“I was thinking about what you said-” his stare became intense. “I want you to have a yard.”
He didn't like that Scott had been thinking about what Logan said, when he had already been regretting saying it.
“That's not fair.” Logan fought to keep his voice steady.
“I'm not saying it to manipulate you. I'm saying it because I mean it.” Scott’s grip tightened, and so did his face. “I… I want to do it with you. For you to have that, and…” He let go and swallowed hard. “Take a step forward together.”
Logan looked him up and down. Scott was nervous, but not unconfident.
“You sure you want to put down roots with me?” he asked, like it was all some long prank and Scott was about to crack.
“We’ve been tangled up in each other's lives for a long time now. Might as well accept it.” he said with a sly smile.
Logan breathed a chuckle and shook his head at what he was about to say. Scott would regret this. He would regret this. But he wanted to believe in Scott, just like he always did. It was stupid and impulsive, but Logan was good at impulsive. More than anything, he didn't want to risk losing this moron he'd carved out something resembling a life with.
“Fuck it. Let’s get a house.”