*OOC -- The setup for this thread is based on the X-men: Endangered Species one-shot by Mike Carey.The Professor was sitting behind them
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Funerals made Logan wiggy. That was the only way to describe it. He felt itchy, and restless; his claws came out unintentionally as his hands balled into fists. Logan had seen Laura, sitting across the church, scratching the back of the pew in front of her with one of her claws, and he wished he could do the same. If he'd been anywhere else, he probably would have, but he'd always figured funerals deserved his respect - even if, like on this occasion, the funeral was for someone he'd never met
( ... )
Logan's legs were shorter, of course, but he could take off fast, which left Scott scrambling behind him.
"Hellfire?" he repeated, talking to Logan's back. They were only a short drive from the city, and Scott had considered, himself, suggesting that the two of them go for a driink. (Nowhere special, not a date, just in the city where they could slip into a crowd unnoticed). But Hellfire?
"Last time we went to Hellfire, you kept buying me drinks until I was unconscious, and the next thing I knew we were breaking into a secure weapons facility, with a crazy French ninja."
He caught up with Logan at the car, a small SUV that belonged to the school. Scott went to the left-hand door, and held up the key. "You explain; I'll drive."
"You're never gonna stop bitching about that mission, are you?" Logan said, as he slid into the passenger seat. "Though I'll admit that Fantomex was irritating as all hell."
Scott revved the engine, and Logan resisted the urge to grumble about the driving arrangements. "You see that old guy with the scarf, kept looking over at Chuck?" Logan assumed he had; Scott was always vigilant, and very good with details. It was one of the many things that made him a good leader, though Logan would never say that to his face. "That was Sebastian Shaw."
"It wasn't a mission. You kidnapped me. My marriage was ending and I was determined to be depressed, and you just had to pick me of all people --" Scott stopped, and felt some color rise to his face; this was just one of many events that he was being forced to reinterpret in light of recent events. "I don't even think Fantomex is French," he mumbled.
In response to Logan's more troubling bit of information, Scott didn't bother to ask how he knew. "Why?" he said simply, and then, "Do you think the Professor knew?"
Logan could have mocked Scott, but the blood that had rushed to an area below his belt made him too distracted for a witty comeback. Besides, Logan had to admit - if Scott had been a rent boy, Logan wouldn't have minded paying good money for his time.
To hell with it. Logan was sick and tired of denying himself what he wanted as far as Scott was concerned. Before, Scott had been wallowing in grief; now, he was perfectly in his right mind, and he'd initiated once again. And, to be perfectly honest, Logan didn't really care what the hell Emma had said. He liked the woman, but not enough to push her boyfriend away again when he was standing there in front of him, half-erect and trying his damnedest to pretend like he wasn't ready to jump Logan's bones right here on the garage's concrete floor.
"Leave the car," Logan said, pulling Scott down by his tie and kissing him once more before disentangling himself and walking out of the garage. "We're taking a cab downtown."
Scott hailed a cab, which pulled over immediately -- two white guys in suits, a block down from the Hellfire Club, they must have looked like good tippers. He got in first, and didn't listen as Logan gave an address. From what Scott could gather, Logan was on the outs with Stark and the official Avengers, but he assumed the man knew other places to stay in the in the city.
In the back seat, he spread his legs, claiming a lot of space for himself, he clasped his hands and set them on the knee further from Logan. He stared at them for the whole cab ride, resisting the urge to reach up and touch his collar, where Logan had pulled on his tie.
Logan was waiting for Scott to have second thoughts. The drive from the Upper West Side to Greenwich Village was too long, the silence between them too deep. But by the time they got to Dr. Strange's place - the only place in New York that Logan figured they could stay without the risk of pissed-off Hellfire goons popping up at an inoportune moment - Scott hadn't said a word of protest (or a word of anything, really), and Logan figured it was worth still trying this thing
( ... )
It says something about the lives they lead, that Scott took so much of this in stride. Logan asked the cab to stop at an apparently empty building, walked through the doorway, and said something that sounded suspiciously like the killing curse from Harry Potter. A well-furnished, previously unsuspected -- and populated -- room grew up around them.
All so far so good.
Then Spider-Man was looking him in the face.
Scott blinked. (Not that anyone could tell). "No," he said. "No, uhh, ninjas. Just -- " He stepped inside. "Just in town. With Logan. Who thought he'd show me --" A room full of outlaw superheroes, apparently, in various stages of costume. He scanned the place and off hand recognized Danny Rand, Luke Cage, Luke's wife -- the girl who used to be Jewel, what the hell was her name? Jennifer Jones?
"We were just in town," Scott repeated, and looked at Peter Parker (didn't he ever take that mask off?) and demanded "Avada kedavra?"
It didn't take Logan long to come; he'd already been halfway there before he'd ever entered Scott. He felt the pressure building, and then his vision grayed out as he released, letting out a noise that sounded more like a wolf than a man.
Spent, Logan sank a little onto Scott's body, feeling boneless, then pulled out and lay, panting, next to the other man on the mattress. Turning over slightly, he took a long look at Scott, trailing one finger idly down his arm and feeling the warm, damp skin. Now that the adrenaline of sex had washed away, the blindfold just made Scott look vulnerable, and Logan found that he didn't like the sight; he turned over, grabbed Scott's glasses from the nightstand, and pressed them into Scott's hand. Then, almost as an afterthought, he rolled toward the nightstand again, unsheathed one long claw, and cut the clock radio cleanly in two. The music - still Boston, and what the hell was wrong with that radio station? - stopped immediately
( ... )
Scott rolled gingerly onto his back -- he was sore; he would live -- and, gripping the glasses, he started to undo the blindfold.
"What about you?" he mused in response to Logan's remark. "Hurts every time?"
He pushed the glasses back onto his face, and opened his eyes to see Logan lying on his side, staring unapologetically at his still-naked body. Something about that gaze was almost more intimate than anything that had passed between them.
Scott frowned. Pulling away from Logan a little, he tried to sit up against the headboard. The feather mattress wasn't that easy to move around on, and the blankets became more disheveled as he moved.
He needed a shower. A shower and several years of psychoanalysis.
"What'd she say about what?" His mind was, honestly, completely blank. He hadn't been thinking about Emma.
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"Hellfire?" he repeated, talking to Logan's back. They were only a short drive from the city, and Scott had considered, himself, suggesting that the two of them go for a driink. (Nowhere special, not a date, just in the city where they could slip into a crowd unnoticed). But Hellfire?
"Last time we went to Hellfire, you kept buying me drinks until I was unconscious, and the next thing I knew we were breaking into a secure weapons facility, with a crazy French ninja."
He caught up with Logan at the car, a small SUV that belonged to the school. Scott went to the left-hand door, and held up the key. "You explain; I'll drive."
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Scott revved the engine, and Logan resisted the urge to grumble about the driving arrangements. "You see that old guy with the scarf, kept looking over at Chuck?" Logan assumed he had; Scott was always vigilant, and very good with details. It was one of the many things that made him a good leader, though Logan would never say that to his face. "That was Sebastian Shaw."
Reply
"It wasn't a mission. You kidnapped me. My marriage was ending and I was determined to be depressed, and you just had to pick me of all people --" Scott stopped, and felt some color rise to his face; this was just one of many events that he was being forced to reinterpret in light of recent events. "I don't even think Fantomex is French," he mumbled.
In response to Logan's more troubling bit of information, Scott didn't bother to ask how he knew. "Why?" he said simply, and then, "Do you think the Professor knew?"
Reply
To hell with it. Logan was sick and tired of denying himself what he wanted as far as Scott was concerned. Before, Scott had been wallowing in grief; now, he was perfectly in his right mind, and he'd initiated once again. And, to be perfectly honest, Logan didn't really care what the hell Emma had said. He liked the woman, but not enough to push her boyfriend away again when he was standing there in front of him, half-erect and trying his damnedest to pretend like he wasn't ready to jump Logan's bones right here on the garage's concrete floor.
"Leave the car," Logan said, pulling Scott down by his tie and kissing him once more before disentangling himself and walking out of the garage. "We're taking a cab downtown."
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In the back seat, he spread his legs, claiming a lot of space for himself, he clasped his hands and set them on the knee further from Logan. He stared at them for the whole cab ride, resisting the urge to reach up and touch his collar, where Logan had pulled on his tie.
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All so far so good.
Then Spider-Man was looking him in the face.
Scott blinked. (Not that anyone could tell). "No," he said. "No, uhh, ninjas. Just -- " He stepped inside. "Just in town. With Logan. Who thought he'd show me --" A room full of outlaw superheroes, apparently, in various stages of costume. He scanned the place and off hand recognized Danny Rand, Luke Cage, Luke's wife -- the girl who used to be Jewel, what the hell was her name? Jennifer Jones?
"We were just in town," Scott repeated, and looked at Peter Parker (didn't he ever take that mask off?) and demanded "Avada kedavra?"
Reply
Spent, Logan sank a little onto Scott's body, feeling boneless, then pulled out and lay, panting, next to the other man on the mattress. Turning over slightly, he took a long look at Scott, trailing one finger idly down his arm and feeling the warm, damp skin. Now that the adrenaline of sex had washed away, the blindfold just made Scott look vulnerable, and Logan found that he didn't like the sight; he turned over, grabbed Scott's glasses from the nightstand, and pressed them into Scott's hand. Then, almost as an afterthought, he rolled toward the nightstand again, unsheathed one long claw, and cut the clock radio cleanly in two. The music - still Boston, and what the hell was wrong with that radio station? - stopped immediately ( ... )
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"What about you?" he mused in response to Logan's remark. "Hurts every time?"
He pushed the glasses back onto his face, and opened his eyes to see Logan lying on his side, staring unapologetically at his still-naked body. Something about that gaze was almost more intimate than anything that had passed between them.
"What?" he demanded.
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"So what'd Emma really say?"
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He needed a shower. A shower and several years of psychoanalysis.
"What'd she say about what?" His mind was, honestly, completely blank. He hadn't been thinking about Emma.
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