Beneath Quiet Skies
The train rattled along, the steady clatter of wheels on tracks filling the quiet between them. Logan watched the snowy landscape blur past the window, white stretching endlessly under the gray sky. They were heading deeper into the mountains now, closer to the small town where their mission awaited. It wasn’t the type of place Logan liked—the kind that made him itch, small enough that strangers stood out, but big enough for danger to hide.
Beside him, Kurt had been quiet for most of the ride. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the armrest, and Logan noticed his shoulders were tense beneath his coat. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves about the mission or something else.
“You’ve been real quiet,” Logan muttered, casting a sideways glance at him.
Kurt looked up, startled out of his thoughts. “Ja, just... thinking.”
Logan grunted, not pressing him. He figured Kurt would talk if he wanted to. He always did eventually.
The train slowed as they neared the station, and Logan stood, grabbing their bags from the overhead compartment. “We’re here,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if Kurt had even heard him. The blue mutant had his gaze fixed out the window, his expression unreadable.
Kurt finally stood and followed Logan off the train, pulling his coat tighter around himself against the cold. The platform was deserted except for a few stray passengers hurrying into the warmth of the station, and the snow-covered town looked just as quiet. It was old, with cobblestone streets and buildings that had stood for centuries. A fresh blanket of snow covered everything, muffling the sounds of their footsteps as they made their way through the narrow streets.
Their hotel was down a narrow side street, tucked between two other aging buildings. The wooden door creaked as Logan pushed it open, and they stepped into a dimly lit lobby that smelled faintly of old wood and dust.
“Reservation under Xavier,” Logan said, his gruff voice echoing in the quiet room.
The receptionist, a woman who looked as worn as the hotel itself, handed them their key without much more than a glance.
“The room’s on the second floor,” she said with a half-hearted smile. “Enjoy your stay.”
Logan grunted in acknowledgment and motioned for Kurt to follow him upstairs. The old building creaked with every step.
As soon as they stepped into their room, Kurt wasted no time removing his image inducer. The device let out a faint hum as it powered down, and the illusion hiding his blue skin and tail faded.
“I don’t know how you can stand that thing,” Logan grunted, tossing his bag onto one of the two small, threadbare beds. The room was tiny, with yellowed wallpaper, a rickety dresser, and a small window overlooking the street. The flickering overhead light only added to the sense that the whole place was holding on by a thread.
“I can’t” Kurt admitted, his tail flicking behind him as he stretched. “But it is necessary.” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly relieved to be himself again. “It’s always strange, hiding like that.”
Logan shrugged. “Ain’t much of a fan of hiding either, but you make do.”
Kurt didn’t respond, instead moving toward the small window and staring out at the snow-covered street. He stood there for a long time, his tail curling and uncurling restlessly, his fingers tapping lightly against the windowsill. His usual grace and calm were replaced by something more fidgety, his movements sharper than usual.
“You alright, elf?” Logan asked after a beat, sensing something off.
Kurt hesitated, his tail twitching beneath his coat, though Logan could see the telltale signs of his growing unease. “It’s… the noise, the people, the tension,” Kurt muttered, his voice quieter than before. “It’s all too much sometimes, especially after the long ride.” His fingers drummed faster against the windowsill, and his breathing came a little more quickly.
Logan shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. Comforting people wasn’t exactly his strong suit, especially when he didn’t fully understand what was wrong. “Uh… well, we’ll be here for the night. Quiet. No people around to bug you.”
Kurt gave a tight smile but didn’t stop his tapping. “Danke,” he said, though his voice was strained. “It’s just hard to explain. Sometimes it’s like everything is too loud—too bright—even when it’s quiet.”
Logan scratched the back of his neck, feeling out of his depth. He wasn’t sure how to help Kurt with that, so he settled for the first thing that came to mind. “You, uh… wanna go for a walk or something? Get some air?”
Kurt’s tail flicked again, agitated, but he nodded slowly. “Ja. A walk might help.”
Logan pulled on his coat as they left the room, stepping back into the cold night air. The snow was falling more heavily now, thick flakes blanketing the streets and muffling the world around them. Kurt walked beside him, his tail twitching beneath his coat, and Logan noticed his fingers were still fidgeting, tapping against his legs as they walked.
“Sorry im so…” kurt made a general gesture with his hands. “Its been a long day”
“You don’t gotta apologize for feeling off,” Logan said gruffly after a few moments of silence. “Everyone’s got their thing.”
Kurt nodded but didn’t seem reassured. His fingers kept moving, tapping a soft, repetitive rhythm that didn’t stop even as they walked in the stillness of the snowy streets. Logan wasn’t sure what else to say, so he stayed quiet, letting the snow-covered town fill the space between them. The tension still hung between them, but at least out here, it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been inside.
The cold night air bit at their faces as they walked through the quiet streets of the town. Snow fell softly around them, coating the cobblestone roads in a pristine blanket of white. Kurt seemed to calm slightly with each step, his tail still twitching beneath his coat, but his breathing had steadied a little. His fingers, though still fidgeting, slowed their tapping rhythm.
They hadn’t said much since leaving the hotel, and Logan figured that was for the best. Kurt needed space to get his head straight, and Logan wasn’t exactly a talker. Still, the tension between them lingered, hanging thick in the air like the snow falling around them.
After a while, the narrow streets opened up into a small town square. Most of the shops were closed for the night, their windows dark and covered in frost. But a single café was still lit up, the warm glow from inside spilling onto the snow-covered ground. Logan caught the faint scent of something warm—soup or stew, maybe. His stomach grumbled.
“Let’s grab a bite,” Logan suggested, nodding toward the café. “Might do us both some good.”
Kurt hesitated, glancing at the windows. “Are you sure? I do not want to make you stay out longer than necessary.”
Logan gave a short, gruff laugh. “Elf, I’m hungry. Don’t overthink it.”
As they approached the small café on the corner of the square, Kurt paused to slip on his image inducer. With a flicker, the illusion of his human appearance returned, masking his blue skin and tail. It was a routine he hated, but one he had long since accepted. In a place like this, he couldn’t risk standing out. Especially not with the mission looming ahead.
Logan noticed the subtle shift in Kurt’s posture, the way his shoulders tensed just slightly after activating the device.
They stepped inside the café, the warmth immediately hitting them, along with the smell of hot food and coffee. It was a simple, cozy place, with worn wooden tables and a handful of patrons scattered around. The soft glow of dim lighting made it feel like a sanctuary from the cold.
Logan led the way to a table near the back, settling into his seat with a grunt. Kurt sat down more carefully across from him, his fingers fidgeting slightly on the table’s edge. He glanced around the café, his eyes lingering on the few other people before finally relaxing a little.
A waitress came over, looking tired but offering a polite smile. “What can I get you folks?”
Logan ordered a bowl of stew and a beer, Kurt getting the same and thanking her quietly. As they waited for their food, the café’s warmth seemed to ease some of the lingering tension between them. Logan leaned back in his chair, casting a glance out the window. The snow outside continued to fall, covering the world in a heavy silence.
“This place has a weird feel to it,” Logan muttered, keeping his voice low.
Kurt nodded, following Logan’s gaze. “It does,” he agreed. “There’s something… off about it. It’s too quiet, but not in a peaceful way, as if the town itself is holding its breath.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. His instincts were telling him the same thing. Whatever was going on in this town, it ran deeper than what they’d been briefed on.
The waitress returned with their food, setting the steaming bowls down in front of them. Logan dug into his stew without hesitation, the rich broth warming him from the inside out. Kurt ate more slowly, savoring each bite, though Logan noticed the way his fingers continued to fidget slightly against the table, even while he ate.
After they finished their meal, they stepped back out into the cold. The walk back to the hotel was quiet, the snowfall thickening as they made their way through the empty streets. By the time they reached the door, Kurt was visibly more relaxed, the cold air seeming to have helped clear his mind. But Logan could still sense that undercurrent of anxiety beneath the surface.
Inside their room, Kurt immediately deactivated the image inducer, letting his blue skin and tail return as he shrugged off his coat. He stretched, relieved to be out of the illusion, and tossed the inducer onto the small dresser by his bed. His tail flicked lazily behind him as he moved around the room, already preparing for bed.
Logan kicked off his boots, stripping down to his boxers and tank top without much thought. He wasn’t one for formality, especially not when they were in the middle of a mission. He threw his coat onto the rickety chair in the corner, the wood creaking under the weight.
Kurt, on the other hand, was more particular about his routine. He had already changed into a matching pajama set—short sleeves and pants in soft fabric. Kurt had once mentioned that the consistency in texture soothed him, though it wasn’t something he talked about often.
Logan sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing a hand over his face. The mattress was lumpy, and the room was still too small, but at least it was warm.
“Try to get some sleep,” Logan muttered, settling into his own bed. “We’ve got another long day tomorrow.”
Kurt nodded, curling up in his bed, his fingers continuing to tap lightly against the bed frame, a soft, repetitive rhythm that echoed in the quiet room. Logan closed his eyes, not saying anything more. Kurt would work through it in his own way.