Nobody Loves Sabretooth

Nobody loves Sabretooth.

Wraith says it offhand on some stupid mission– a joke, maybe, because doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up and nobody cares enough to try. He says it with that stupid grin and stupid voice, and it makes everyone else laugh.

Vic hunches in on himself a little more. He can feel his face heating up and he pretends to examine his claws, ignoring the heated stare of Dr. Cornelius on his back, the softer stare of Logan from across the campfire.

It’s cold in Bumfuck, Nowhere, and the whiskey bottle sitting empty in the dirt by Vic’s boot is fading just as fast as it always does.

Logan stands up with a scuff. The rest of the team, Wraith’s men, are laughing, so Logan gets mostly ignored as he heads over to Vic’s side and puts his own bottle of shitty bathtub alcohol down between them.

“I don’t want yer pity,” Vic growls, flexing his hand in the cool air. The tips of his fingers don’t really have a lot of feeling anymore, nerves damaged over and over until it stuck, but stretching helps.

“Ain’t pity,” Logan mutters back, keeping his eyes down and his shoulders boxy. “It’s shit. Don’ wanna drink it.”

It’s a lie, Vic knows, but Logan isn’t much in the habit of telling the truth. Half the time he doesn’t know what’s true or not. So Vic takes the bottle, takes a swig, lets it burn its way down his throat and imagines it’s actually leaving blisters, all the way down. He coughs. “Man, that is shit.”

Logan doesn’t say anything, but his mouth twitches into a grin.

“Logan!” Roars Wraith, already drunk and loud, and Logan tenses a little. “What’cha grinnin’ for?”

John Wraith’s a piece of shit, in Vic’s opinion. Hates the team. Logan especially.

Victor does his best to be good. Doesn’t put up trouble for the humans, goes where he wants and kills who he’s told. Logan… doesn’t.

When Vic’s going to sleep in a tent, Logan’s in a cage being shot at all night long. It always takes an hour or two for him to go quiet, and another thirty minutes for the team to shut up about it.

Vic doesn’t like it. But there isn’t much he can do. Not if he wants the moments he has with Logan.

Even if Logan doesn’t remember most of it.

“Nothin’,” Logan says gruffly, schooling his face back down into expressionless anger. “Sorry, sir.”

Wraith grins. “Good boy. Finally learning yer– fuckin’ place. Maybe we won’t put you in the cage t’night, huh?”

He’s swaying a little, off-center, and is obviously looking for an answer.

Logan swallows. “Okay.”

“Maybe you can stay wit’ me,” he croons, and the rest of his men laugh in jeering tones that make Logan look down and his hands flex. “You’d be a good bed-warmer, I bet. Show all these guys how t’ tame the beast.”

Logan’s body language reads fuck off and Wraith isn’t taking the hint and Vic decides fuck it.

“Cap,” he calls, and both Logan and Wraith’s heads swivel towards him. “What if I got ‘im for the night?”

Wraith grins. Cornelius watches silent, head cocked like he’s taking mental notes. “You want the dog, huh?”

“Don’t exactly get a lotta women ‘round here,” Vic covers, smooth and low. “Hole’s a hole.”

A burning stare. Wraith smiles, sharp and predatory. “Guess you’ve been good enough recent, too. Take ‘im. One night only.”

Victor finishes off the alcohol. Stands. Puts a heavy hand on Logan’s shoulder.

Logan goes easy as they head off to Vic’s tent. He’s tense and sharp and the tips of his claws are peeking out of the metal tubes in his hands, and when they get to the tent and Vic zips it shut behind him
Oh, he’s on the floor.

Logan stands over him. He’s baring teeth, breathing raspy and heavy, blue eyes gleaming with a yellow sheen in the dull light. One hand drips red and Vic registers an already-fading throbbing in his stomach. Wow.

“Didja fuckin’ think you’d just get me for th’ night, ya piece of shit?” Logan asks, backing up a step as Vic pushes himself back up. “I’ll fuckin’ cut ya. You’re just as much a weapon as I am, shithead, you’ll die before you fuck me.”

Logan’s claws are gleaming silver and red, teeth sharp in the light shut the fuck up Vic what the fuck and Vic doesn’t get up the rest of the way.

“I’m not gonna fuck ya,” he spits out, eyes rolling. “Like I’d wanna. If i didn’t get ya here, John would, an’ I know he isn’t exactly a gentle lover.”

Logan’s jaw works. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“I’m just as much an animal as they think you are.” It doesn’t make them any gentler. It just means they’re rougher when he doesn’t play nice.

Vic sighs and stands up, ignoring the way Logan drops an inch like he’s waiting for Victor to pounce at him. “Take the bed.”

He heads over to the other corner, makes a shitty nest outta his spare blanket and the laundry and lies down, curled up. Logan watches.

A few minutes later, the light switches off and fabric rustles as Logan settles down.

–

Logan doesn’t wake up screaming, but he wakes up with a growl and a jolt and Vic isn’t a heavy sleeper either, so he wakes up when the flashlight switches back on. He doesn’t move.

Logan sits still for a long time. Panting and growling, almost hyperventilating, not getting off the bed.

Vic sits up, after a minute. Logan’s eyes flicker up to his. Neither of them say anything.

Until Victor does.

“You okay?”

It’s stupid to ask. But he doesn’t exactly have a basis for these conversations, dammit.

Logan stares at him. “You’re shit at this.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Logan shifts on the bed. He’s naked save for his dog-tags, dull gray in the light, and it takes a minute before he talks again. “You gonna fuck me if I come over there?”

“What part of I don’t like you like that hasn’t registered in your skull yet?” Vic watches as Logan’s mouth twists, just a little. “Is it the adamantium?” That gets him a bigger grin, even if Logan looks down immediately. “Is that what it is? Bringing thick-headed to a new meaning?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but gets out of the bed anyways and stalks over to Vic, wrapped in the sheet from the bed like the woman after a one-night-stand in some stupid movie. Vic obediently moves over so he can sit down and then lie down, resting his head on Vic’s bicep.

Vic doesn’t know what to do with his other arm.

“Sometimes I think I might just be an animal,” Logan admits into the silence. “Not a man at all.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I think I want to be a woman. We kill people for pieces of shit, we have bigger issues.”

Logan shifts, readjusting his head and Vic feels like he’s said the wrong thing. “Maybe one day we’ll be able to figure things out,” he says softly, and feels Logan nod against his chest.

“Yeah,” Logan mutters. “Maybe one day.”