“So, you were always an asshole.” Logan let the words leave his mouth even if the man in front of him had nearly crashed the plane into the sea in his anger.
The look Charles had shot Erik before joining Hank made him say it, truthfully. He’d looked stricken. Erik stared after the cockpit for a moment, every muscle taut as his breathing slowed. Logan huffed and reached for his pack of cigars and lighter. Erik slowly turned, looking deflated.
“I take it we’re best buddies in the future.”
Logan raised his brows and turned his cigar around the flame, his mouth twitching. If he told this Erik how many times he’d thoroughly beaten the shit out of him, how his adamantium skeleton always gave him the upper hand, he’d probably smile. Stand a little straighter, maybe. So he said nothing about that.
“I spent a lot of years trying to bring you down, bub.”
“How does that work out for you?” Erik’s brows stitched together as he said it.
“You’re like me.” Logan twirled the cigar, glancing out the window as he blew out some smoke. “You’re a survivor.”
Erik stared at him, his eyes seeming to go right through. Something flickered in them that Logan couldn't understand. He took another puff, flicking his hand around in a sweeping gesture at the mess the plane had become from the argument.
“You wanna pick all that shit up?”
Erik glanced back at the fallen books, chess board, and glasses covering the floor as if he’d forgotten them. He bent over and slowly placed everything back where they were.
Logan’s tight grip on the table didn’t release even after everything had gone quiet again. He fucking hated planes. He warily watched Erik’s face, his stomach still in knots. He’d expected the Professor and Erik’s forced reunion to be tense. That much was obvious. What he hadn’t expected was the sheer amount of pain that radiated between the two of them. Before they had even spoken, seated in front of each other, Charles had been searching Erik’s face, daring him to speak. His face had looked so vulnerable. Logan hadn’t expected to see a man who he’d always known to be the definition of composure to look like that.
Erik set his jaw tightly and stared at the closed door of the cockpit after everything had been cleaned, limbs flexing sporadically, as if trying to decide if he should enter or not. He remained seated, and Logan refused to let himself drift off, lest he have to break up a fight. Erik sat stiffly in his chair, glancing every so often towards the cockpit. Logan sighed, stretching. It was going to be a long night. If he made it back to his reality in one piece, he deserved a drink.
—
Logan jolted awake when he felt the plane land on the runway, whipping his head around. He’d definitely had a nightmare. Nothing new there. Even in the past. He blinked, and saw Charles and Erik seated in front of the chess board, as if everything that had transpired earlier was a dream, too. Logan had tried to stay awake, but he’d distantly heard their soft conversation before he dozed off. No fighting to be had.
“There’s a hotel down the road from here,” Hank said from the cockpit. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”
Logan grunted and stood, cracking his neck. He grabbed for his suitcase, stuffed with clothes and a few toiletries he’d managed to buy at a drug store. It’s not like his past self was very practical. He glanced towards the Professor, who kept flicking a look at Erik that he couldn’t read. Erik cleared his throat and began to pack the chess board away, so careful it was like he was handling an infant. They all grabbed what little possessions they had and exited the plane. They were at a private part of the airport, no one there to check them or ask questions. Or notice that one of them was an escaped prisoner. Still, Erik remained on guard, casting a look over his shoulder every few minutes. No one stopped them.
Hank hailed them a taxi, with Logan sitting in the front while the other three squeezed into the backseat. Charles sat in the middle, being the slimmest. The taxi driver didn’t speak, thankfully. None of them had the energy to come up with some excuse to explain where they were going. Hank gave the driver the hotel’s address, right as the driver nearly popped a tire over the curb. The car jerked abruptly. Logan glanced back and saw in the abrupt movement, Charles had braced his hand on Erik’s thigh. They both glanced down at his hand, with Charles awkwardly pulling it back and clearing his throat. Erik was so still he could be mistaken for a statue.
Hank was lost in thought, staring out the window and totally oblivious to whatever was happening next to him. The driver mumbled an apology and pulled off towards the hotel.
Logan turned around and pulled out his pack of cigars and lit one, rolling the window down slightly. The driver didn’t care. One of the only great things about this era. He was definitely rooming with Hank.
—
The person at the hotel lobby desk tried not to stare as she typed out the false information Hank gave her.
“As of right now, we only have two doubles available. A conference overtook the remaining rooms.” She looked nervous as she said it.
Hank sighed and scrubbed a hand along his face. He sheepishly turned over his shoulder.
“Sorry guys. Looks like we have to share.”
The woman gingerly held out two room keys, and Logan gave her a brief smile and took one of them.
Erik stepped forward and gave her a smile a thousand times more charming than the one Logan had managed. Logan tried not to roll his eyes. They all shuffled their belongings down the hall.
Charles opened his mouth to speak when Logan pointed at Hank.
“Furball, you’re roomin’ with me.”
Charles and Erik looked incredulous and started to refuse; Logan rolled his suitcase forward and closed the door before they could. Logan heard some light bickering outside before Hank came in with his own luggage, sighing and shaking his head at him.
“Why did you do that? Aren’t you worried they’re going to kill each other? I don’t really have the budget for damages to the room.”
Logan rifled through his bag for a pair of softer pants to wear to sleep, letting out a deep sigh when he saw Hank’s genuine worry. He hadn’t seen how they were in the car. Or on the plane. Erik’s voice could be broken glass and barely suppressed rage, sounding more like Logan in those moments than anyone. It was only for Charles that his demeanor and voice softened. And Charles, well. Logan knew heartbreak when he saw it, and that was definitely what he saw in the Professor when he first arrived.
“They’ll be fine.”
Hank still looked at the wall that separated the two rooms.
“Charles and Erik both sent me from the future. They may be too stupid to get it right now, but they need each other.”
That seemed to be the right thing to say. Hank settled into his bed, rifling through his suitcase for a few books he’d managed to squeeze in there. Logan grabbed his pajama pants and headed for the bathroom, eager to clean off the nervous sweat he’d broken on the plane. Thank fuck they had separate rooms. He needed a break.
—
Logan exited the shower and scratched at his stomach, the steam billowing from the bathroom spreading into the small hotel room. Hank’s glasses fogged as he sat in his bed, the one closest to the bathroom. He held an absurdly large book in his hands, mumbling and wiping the lenses with his sleeve. Logan shrugged at him, flopping onto the bed gracelessly. He sighed, his whole body aching.
Even if he was in the body of his younger self, that didn’t shake the pure exhaustion that came with being as old as he was, as well as the stress of being on a dangerous time-travel mission. One with enormous stakes, at that. He tried not to dwell on what might be happening in the present, on how everyone else was doing, the plan.
He rolled onto his side, facing the window, cheap blinds covering it. Hank’s reading light was soft, but he still preferred to sleep in the dark. He didn’t think he’d have much luck if he asked him to turn it off, so he didn’t bother. His mind drifted towards the next room, where the Professor and Erik were. After a while Hank finally turned off the reading light and settled into bed. Logan had no idea what time they’d have to wake up, but considering he couldn’t sleep a few hours without being jolted awake by a nightmare, it didn’t really matter.
Hank tossed for a little bit before falling asleep in a stock straight position. Somehow that made sense. Logan stared at the ceiling, an arm thrown across the pillow. He strained his hearing towards the room next door. Muffled words. He kept hearing this periodic thud, and it kept getting faster the more he listened. He raised himself on one arm. Were they fighting?
Logan pressed an ear to the wall, and immediately regretted it. The sounds he heard were sounds he did not need or want to hear from either of them. Or anyone.
“Fucking Christ,” Logan muttered.
Hank stirred some time later to go to the bathroom, and his heightened senses picked up on the noise as well. He leaned closer and looked at Logan, mouth agape.
“Are they?” Hank trailed off, his pointed finger falling against his side as he processed the fact that Erik and Charles were fucking next door.
“Yep. Told ya.” Logan said with a grunt.
He eventually dozed off while holding another pillow to his ear.
—
The next morning, Hank allowed them a brief amount of time for breakfast before they headed off. Logan crunched on a piece of bacon while Charles stirred a steaming bowl of oatmeal around. Erik opted for coffee and some kind of pastry Logan didn’t recognize. Hank had a bagel with cream cheese. They ate in amiable silence, but Logan wasn’t going to just brush what he heard last night under the rug. It’d kept him awake, so he had the right to be a little petty about it. And he just wanted to make Erik squirm.
“Have a good sleep?” Logan said pointedly, staring at Charles and Erik.
Hank, who’d been taking a deep gulp from his mug, snorted in an unexpected laugh. Orange juice sprayed the lower half of his face. Charles paled and then turned beet red, choosing that moment to admire the view from the window adjoining their table. It was at that moment Logan noticed a few hickeys dotting the lower part of Charles’ neck. Charles followed his gaze and cleared his throat.
“Fine. We, I slept fine. Comfortable bed.” Charles said, blinking quickly and taking a bite of his oatmeal.
Erik feigned nonchalance, although Logan saw how he knitted his eyebrows together at Charles in an attempt to get him to shut up. Logan noted with satisfaction how the knife he held to cut into his pastry thrummed every so often.
“Best sleep I’ve had in years.” Erik said after a beat, smiling into his cup of coffee with a loaded look towards Charles.
Charles glared at him. Hank hummed, glancing at Logan with a knowing gleam in his eyes. Logan bit back a smile.