Chapter Text
The sun had long set when Logan’s poor excuse of a house finally had lights. How Scott managed to do that, Logan tried not to wonder nor question it. They had electricity. He was not gonna fucking complain. Logan turned to look at the younger man still running about, a pen and paper in hand, listing another batch of god knows what to buy the next day, muttering about no running water and hiring a plumber.
It looked stupidly domestic. It's kind of annoying.
“Do ya wanna spar or somethin’?” Logan asked. They hadn’t really done that in a while, sparring. Logan remembered how he tried to drag Scott away from grieving through the temptation of new levels of the Danger Room, and also by by egging Scott to beat the crap outta him. It was unhealthy. Logan’s far from being the voice of reason, but it was better than letting the kid corrode from depression.
Ever since Scott’s proclaimed death and unanswered resurrection, Logan hadn’t offered, and Scott never asked.
The sound of a pen scratching on cheap paper had immediately stopped. Scott looked up and stared at the older man, not saying anything. The silence itself was already an answer.
“Let’s be real, yer too worked up, and cleaning the house ain’t really gonna scratch the itch the Danger Room was giving ya,” Logan explained. “And I know ya didn’t have any beauty sleep last night, no— actually, I know ya didn’t have any beauty sleep since we got out of the mansion. So, do you wanna spar or not?” he asked with finality, placing both hands on his hips.
Scott just stared, his face blank and giving nothing away. “I need you to contact a plumber tomorrow morning,” he answered instead.
“Ya think I know anyone here?”
“You’re the babysitter. Find a way to know one,” Scott replied curtly before continuing to write on his crumpled paper. Logan would also probably need to buy a notebook soon, just in case they ran out of scratch paper.
Logan let out an exasperated breath before raising his hand up in defeat. “Enjoy yer house renovation project. I’m tired being the Chip to yer Joanna for the whole day,” he grumbled before marching into his room.
“Who says I’m Joanna?” Scott sniped up, sounding way too offended.
“Yer the one calling all the shots here, while I’m doing most of the physical labor,” Logan answered easily, turning around to face an offended Scott Summers. Was it just him or were his eyes becoming more blue under this newly bought fluorescent light. This was some high end illusion they’re making.
“Calling the— Let’s get something straight,” Scott snapped. “Between you and me, you’re the one calling the shots,” he corrected.
“That's the vacation part, I’m talking about the flipping-my-house-apart part,” Logan easily rebutted while walking backwards and into his room before sliding his door closed, feeling rather smug for having had the last say. It may have seemed childish, but at least let him have this after already spending three whole days with the guy and managing not to punch Scott, not even once.
It was an improvement.
Rummaging in his bag, Logan produced a laptop and booted it open after finding a decent spot to place it. This may have been Scott’s vacation, but not Logan’s. he was still required to send constant updates back to the mansion, and since Scott was not looking over his paperwork, he was not allowed to half-ass his report.
Why the hell did he volunteer to do this again?
Logan rubbed his face tiredly and stared up at the lightbulb that Scott was bitching about earlier. Something about different types of specifications and its battery capacity or what-not. Honestly Logan stopped listening. The kid was way too invested in something they wouldn’t be using in the long run.
Right, he thought before looking at his sliding door and sensing Scott move around his home, going from one place to another, seeming unable to stay in one spot. Still need to deal with… whatever my shit is.
After a few hours of mindless typing, he turned his laptop shut and hid it before standing up to slide his door open, already expecting Scott standing right behind it. Logan felt the younger man pacing in front of his room before backing out, only to repeat the process twice, which was telling something because Scott never did something without deliberation. The third time Scott stood at his door, Logan already had enough of it and just slid it open.
“Ya just gonna pace around my door all night, or are ya gonna do something about it?” Logan asked, leaning on his door frame and crossing his arms over his chest. If there was a bit of intent there, no one was going to know, especially this motherfucker who was denser than any seawater.
“I need a distraction,” Scott answered, not the least bit startled.
One of Logan’s eyebrows raised up. “And yer asking me?”
Scott slightly tipped his chin higher. “You offered to spar, right?”
Logan stared at him, a smirk crawling up his mouth, “Alright, ya said you need a distraction. I’m gonna be yer distraction.”
They went and found themselves in Logan’s backyard. The towering foliage was enough for Scott to comment about needing to weed this tomorrow. What joy. They stood in the middle, Scott flexing his fist while Logan stretched his neck. It was dark out, but the light illuminating from the house was enough for the both of them.
“One rule,” Scott says, “No mutation, seeing that I can’t use mine.”
“Anything else, Slim?”
Scott stared at him, the blank expression on his face giving away nothing before briefly looking around his surroundings. If anything, Logan would think Scott was reminiscing or something. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Don’t go easy on me.”
Distantly, Logan felt a strange sense of deja vu.
“Like I already don’t know that,” he responded instead.
They circled around each other for a few seconds before Scott charged right in. Prepared, Logan sidestepped and aimed to wrap his arm around Scott’s head. The younger man ducked and slid his dominant foot, trying to swipe him from underneath. Logan pushed back to avoid the attack before charging right in with a fisted hand, aiming for a right hook while Scott was standing up.
Scott stepped one left foot back and steered away from the assault before flipping to kick the older man at the side. Logan braced himself and grabbed hold of the younger man’s ankle the second it hit him, refraining him from landing a full blow. Ever the boy scout, Scott used this as leverage to jump up and press a foot on Logan's face, before flipping high in the air when the older man released his iron grip and landed back on the ground.
Logan felt his nose crack and almost lost his footing. He barely managed to get a grip before noticing Scott barreling full force towards him. Logan easily used his body mass and avoided getting grappled by flipping Scott down on the ground. The sudden winded expression on the younger man was priceless.
“That easy enough for ya?” Logan mocked.
Scott blinked and Logan would like to blame it on his damn baby blues when he found himself a second later being flipped on his back and getting pinned on the ground, the soil felt cold on his back and the grass too prickly.
“Yeah,” Scott answered, smirking down on him with his damp hair dangling barely above his face.
In that moment, the smell of sweat and sound of chests heaving for breaths. Logan realized how fucked he was.
True to his words, Logan woke up the next day to find Scott in his backyard, crouched down on the ground and pulling out one chunk of tall grass after another. Logan stared and decided it was too early in the goddamn morning for this. He went back inside and called a plumber before checking their groceries to see if there was anything he could cook with very little resources. After staring at the newly bought mini fridge, ice box, mountain of groceries, and realizing that he needed to set up the gas stove first, Logan lazily opted for a sandwich.
The house was currently a mess, boxes and plastic everywhere. All of his old and moth-eaten furniture was outside; some of his sliding doors were removed; and his bathroom was filled with molds that had a floor for a toilet. Was Logan going to do something about it? No, no he would not. If he did, he might end up sleeping on the sofa.
Logan paused while slicing the ham with his claws. Briefly realizing how domesticated that sounded in his head.
“News about the plumber?” Scott asked, announcing his arrival, sweat glistening on his skin that Logan tried to ignore.
“Yeah, since we’re too far off from the nearest city, they’ll be here in two to three working days,” Logan answered, handing Scott a sandwich before he started making one for himself.
“It’s Thursday,” Scott answered plainly while accepting the food and taking a bite of it.
“Then we’ll see them next week,” Logan answered. “I know yer prude ass didn’t enjoy the open bath house but it’s either that or take a bath on the ocean.”
“I don’t have a problem with the bath house, Logan,” Scott said, “But I do have a problem of taking a shit in the ocean.”
Logan paused again and glared at the brunette, “Really?” he grouched, “In front of my sandwich?”
Chewing, Scott shrugged and swallowed. “I think it’s funny,” he answered. “I see now why you prefer to eat with your hands rather than have table manners.” Logan opted not to say something to that. God he needed a beer, “We should start cleaning the bathroo–”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Logan immediately interjected. “This is a vacation. Ya need to do something that involves that.”
Scott stared at him, “You saw the bathroom, didn’t you?”
“My sense of smell will die,” was Logan’s immediate answer, sounding way too serious. “Look I’ve been putting up with yer…” he looked around the disarrayed room for a brief moment, “whatever this is. We need to do something that’s considered fun.”
“I'm already having fun,” Scott answered with such a straight face, Logan wondered if they should’ve just gone with giving Scott therapy. The offer was not completely off the table anyway. They stared at each other in silence before Scott let out an exasperated exhale, “We’re far from done with the house, Logan.”
“Too bad, cuz’ I am,” Logan snapped, finished with layering his sandwich with the final bread on top, he immediately grabbed a huge bite. “And I don’t care if I have to sedate ya just to win my case here,” he said with finality while chewing.
“That’s illegal,” Scott commented while making a face of disgust from his eating habit but didn’t comment. Logan just gave him a look of pure hypocrisy. Scott let out a sigh, “Fine,” he finally conceded.“What do you want to do?”
Logan stilled and swallowed. “Me?” he asked, suddenly feeling off kilter. “Yer the one on vacation here. I should be asking you that question.”
“I want to fix your house,” Scott intoned, “which isn’t part of today’s itinerary according to your whining ass. And I don’t even want to be on vacation in the first place.”
The conversation was going nowhere, Logan rubbed a hand on his face before remembering it smelled like ham. “What do you usually do on yer vacations?” Scott opened his mouth, but Logan immediately interjected, “No, don’t say paperworks, or looking after the kids because a field trip is not a vacation. Those are for the students.”
Scott closed his mouth and wondered, taking a bite from his sandwich and chewing on it very slowly. “Well,” he started, “Jean and I sometimes visit this lake house for the weekend and make love to each other.”
Logan was mid-bite away from his sandwich when Scott said that. There was as immediate displeasure painted on his face, and he was not going to to filter it, “Jesus fuck, Cyke, no one says make love anymore ya fucking freak,” Scott gave him a look. “It’s not discriminatory if I say it,” Logan added.
“Since when did saying ‘making love’ make you a freak?” Scott demanded. “It’s romantic, Logan.”
“It’s lame, as Jubilee would say,” Logan answered before taking another huge bite.
“Jubilee is a romantic. That argument is invalid.”
Logan made another face, “And this isn’t a debate, fuck you,” he finished. Before Scott could make another rebuttal that would make this conversation unnecessarily longer, Logan rubbed his hands in an attempt to make them clean, but only made them stickier. “Alright, fix yer stuff. We’re going out,” he said before jamming the whole sandwich in his mouth.
“Exactly where are we going?” Scott asked when Logan started to march back into his room. “Logan!” he called.
“Fishing!” he yelled back. If hearing the words lake house gave him this idea, no one’s going to know.
“Are you sure we’re on the right track?” Scott asked.
“I’m following an app,” Logan replied curtly.
“Are you sure you didn’t make a wrong turn?”
“I’m following an app. It’ll correct itself.”
“Did you pin it on the right location?”
“I’m following the app.”
“That’s not the right answer.”
“It’s on the right location.”
Silence.
“Let me just—” Scott made a move to grab the phone and Logan slapped his hand while still keeping his eyes on the road. He could feel Scott staring at him because of the sudden act of immaturity.
“Touch the phone and I will extend this vacation,” Logan threatened, and Scott already knew that Logan was serious about his threats.
“Alright,” Scott said defeatedly, hands raised as if surrendering. “I just wanted to check if everything’s right.”
Logan groaned out loud, “Jesus, Scott, I’m old, not stupid,” he bit back. “Why don’t ya play with the stereo or somethin’. I’m driving here.”
“It’s broken.”
“Not my fuckin’ problem.”
It was a good thing Logan’s eyes were on the road, because usually, anything that involved emotions and Scott’s eyes didn’t usually end well for him and his stomach. If Logan managed to crash this car, he would have no idea what to tell ‘Ro other than ‘Scott’s eyes were too blue’. And right now, he could feel the younger man’s eyes boring into his skull.
“You rented this car.”
“Cheapest one by the hour, and we’re staying here for a while,” Logan explained.
Scott sighed heavily and leaned back, thunking his head lightly on the backrest. It was silent for a couple of minutes, short minutes of Logan wondering if he should’ve rented a much more decent car since he did just rent this to piss the guy off.
They were still a few miles away from the lake Logan had looked up. They would’ve been nearer by now if Scott hadn’t bitched about just fishing at the huge body of water beside his house.
“We’re not gonna use a fucking fishing rod, Cyke,” Logan explained. “This vacation’s already lifeless as it is.”
Scott stared at him for a second before immediately understanding the implications; the brief glint in his eyes as if finally solving the final puzzle piece (Logan didn’t know if he liked it or not, but it did make him stare at the younger man’s face a little too long to be considered normal) before it diminished into a flat look after realizing the big picture. “Why does everything have to be barbaric with you?”
The sun was bright but not hot; the road was open and the trees were tall enough to give them shade. This was probably the most relaxing car ride he had ever gone on that he remembered.
Scott was resting his face on his right hand as his eyes stared at one tree after another, probably counting them to pass the time. When he opened his mouth, Logan had no idea where that came from nor what prompted him to ask a question like that. “You killed her, right?” he asked, still looking out the window, “because of the Phoenix.” It wasn’t a question.
Logan was silent. He wasn’t the one who told Scott about what happened, and he wasn’t in the room when Hank explained how the events transpired. Logan was out in the hall, listening, sensing, and he knew that Scott was already informed of how things went down, who died, and who killed who. There was no point in asking that question.
“Ya already know about this,” Logan said instead. “Why are ya suddenly asking?” Logan waited for a response, but he heard nothing. Stealing a fleeting glance, Scott was still staring through the window. Logan can’t see his expression. He made a right turn according to the app, “I had to do it,” he finally answered. “I was the only one who could.”
Silence.
“Was it painless?”
Logan took another moment on what to say to that, “I like to think that it was.”
Scott took a deep breath, and for a brief second, Logan thought Scott would ask something that he would like to clarify, something heavy, something that would put this vacation in question. Instead, Scott said—
“I’m sorry.”
Logan pumped the brakes for that and the engine immediately died, skidding the car into a sudden halt, “The fuck are ya sorry for?” he asked, somehow unreasonably offended, glaring at Scott with utter disbelief.
The other guy looked just as disgruntled as he was, eyes wide and a sudden hand on the dashboard for leverage, “Jesus, Logan, you might survive a car crash but I won’t,” he snapped, Logan said nothing and just stared at him. Scott let out a breathy exhale and leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the vehicle, “You love her, right?”
Something about that question felt unfair, he didn’t know why or how it should be, it just felt like it was. Gunning the engine to life, Logan continued on driving. “I did.”
If Scott picked up on the past tense, he didn’t ask.
They had their pants rolled up to their knees, Logan went towards the shirtless route while Scott opted to roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. Logan would like to deny that it wasn't easy catching fish with his bare hands after that. They were situated downstream of the lake, trying to one up each other as they caught one fish after another, each having their own buckets to count the tally.
It was going well until a slimy sonuvabitch slipped through Logan’s fingers and tipped his bucket down the lake, along with his hard work. “Fuck,” Logan said defeatedly.
“I guess I won by default?” Scott yelled from the other side with a smug look on his face.
“Double or nothing!” Logan yelled back.
“We never made a bet!” was Scott’s response. “Also, your bucket’s gone!”
“I’ll count the tally in my head!”
“Nope!”
A few back and forth banter, and a decently made bonfire later, Logan found himself rolling two big stones near their fire pit as impromptu chairs while the other man was busy grilling his victory. The sudden smell of iron caught Logan’s attention, he turned and saw Scott’s right ankle with a small wound.
“Did ya nick yerself on the rocks?”
“What?” Scott asked, turning around to look at the older man before registering what he said and looking down, angling himself in search of a wound. “Huh,” he said as soon as he noticed it. “Seems that I have,” he added before returning to his current task.
Logan wondered if bandages were a part of his massive purchase.
Sitting down and cracking his back, Logan’s eyes kept on wandering down on Scott’s tiny injury. It was small – small enough to close up by tomorrow. It wasn’t deep enough to leave a permanent scar, but enough to stay for a few weeks. A few minutes later, Scott was bringing him a freshly cooked trout and Logan’s thoughts had already spiraled in too deep.
“Hey, how exactly did ya die?” Logan asked as Scott was taking a seat. The question obviously took him by surprise especially with how he almost lost his balance.
“Excuse me?” Scott asked, looking like a gaping codfish as he blinked.
“I know ya heard me clearly, Slim,” Logan said, taking a huge bite off his fish and hissing because it was still fucking hot. “Ya didn’t technically say anything about not remembering, and ya seem to already know yer way around. Also I’m not the only one who’s noticed that yer always trying to avoid the topic of yer death,” he added, listing each by finger. “Most people would be curious about how they died, ya know?”
Scott blinked at him again. “You know other people who died and came back to life?”
“Yeah, in films,” Logan answered with a straight face. “So?”
“You are being highly invasive,” Scott answered instead, blowing on his food before taking a bite off, minding his lips so as not to get burned.
“Did ya notice all of yer scars are gone?” Logan heard Scott still his movements. “Those long and deep gashes ya got from training and missions. I’m not saying I’m a pervert but even the kids noticed it. Not all of them, but it’s enough to raise an issue,” he added before taking another bite.
Scott was silent for a minute, “Did Ororo tell you to ask me this?”
Logan took his sweet time chewing his food before swallowing. “No.”
The silence that stretched between them was far too long that Logan assumed Scott wouldn’t answer him. He assumed wrong.
“I died kissing the corrupted Phoenix.” It was answered in such a nonchalant way that Logan couldn’t stop his food from going down the wrong track. He started coughing and slamming his fist on his chest. Scott ignored his predicament and continued on speaking. “I didn’t know at first, of course.” Scott took another bite while Logan continued on coughing his lungs out. “I realized it wasn’t Jean the second I felt like I was bursting from the inside out. It felt like I was being ripped apart down to the molecule. I couldn’t pull back no matter how hard I tried ,” he finished. “Now, was that info helpful?”
Logan wheezed out a weak, “No,” before Scott magically proffered up a water bottle, to which he accepted rather gratefully and desperately.
“Look, I don’t know how I got back. You’re just as clueless as I am,” Scott said while Logan chugged the bottle empty. “We should just be grateful that I’m back.”
Logan was leaning down, elbows on his knee while still managing to have a tight hold on his stick. He was breathing hard and his face felt hot, but the thought Should we? was on the tip of his tongue. He just didn’t know what’s stopping him.
Maybe that unexpected kiss was somehow an unfinished business that Scott had done since he died while the Phoenix had its tongue down his throat. But no matter how Logan thought about it, it just didn’t seem right, not when Scott uttered his damn name when Logan found his body. He’d like to think it was just the wind playing tricks on him, but he knew what he heard.
That night, when they sparred in Logan’s backyard, it was harder to distract Scott from his thoughts.
The next day, Logan woke up with barely enough sleep since the motherfucking team leader of the X-Men decided to spar from dusk ‘till dawn like a goddamn psycho, who was by the way kicking him on his side trying to wake him up. Logan groaned and rolled over, blindly swatting away the offending feet.
“Wake up, Logan,” Scott ordered before kicking him again with a little bit of force added.
Logan let out another groan and ignored the younger man.
“I’m not taking no as an answer.”
“Then take ‘later’,” his voice sounded gruffer than usual. To say Logan’s not a morning person was an understatement. No one ever made him wake up in the morning and live to tell the tale. Scott just doesn’t value his life most of the time to even distinguish the danger he was setting himself up into.
Man, he’s getting soft.
“We need to clean your bathroom,” Scott said, another kick, this time closer to his face. Logan covered his face with one of his newly purchased pillows. It smelled like chemicals but most of their new furniture were, the smell of his new futon annoyed his nose for a few minutes before it became bearable to sleep in.
“Definitely a ‘later’,” Logan replied drowsily, voice slightly muffled from the thick cushion.
Logan sensed Scott crouching down, aiming to pull the pillow covering his face with one of his hands already starting to outstretch. “I said get–” before Scott could finish either what he was saying or about to do, both of Logan’s arms reached out and dragged Scott in bed with him, burying the younger man’s face on his chest to further shut him up.
The action had immediate results; pure bliss and silence from the other mutant. His sleep-idled brain was too busy enjoying the absent noise that once disturbed the tranquility of his morning to realize that Scott’s breathing had also stopped from shock. When it returned, the silence was replaced by a rapidly beating heart.
Finally, Logan was starting to realize that this shouldn’t be normal, no matter how much his instincts told him that it was. The realization was rather slow, coming from a person with rapid reflexes, it was embarrassing. Logan was fully awake by the time Scott’s heartbeat was the only thing he could hear, his own body going stiff from the sudden and awkward development that he could not blame on anyone but himself. Why he hadn’t let go of the other mutant was probably because of his massive pride.
“You should probably let go now,” Scott said evenly after sensing Logan’s frame being taut as a bow string.
“Yeah,” was his honest to god reply before slowly moving his arms to let the younger man free from his grasps. The both of them sat up on the futon, slowly, as if a tripwire would go off if they moved too fast.
The silence between them was suffocating, Logan can’t bring himself to look at Scott, but he could feel his gaze boring into his skull like a bulldozer.
“So–,” Scott began but was cut off when Logan raised a finger to shut him up.
“Let’s not torture ourselves and just never talk about this.”
Scott’s answer wasn’t immediate, but it was curt. “Okay,” as if he did want to discuss this yet he had no other choice but to agree. Or maybe not, Logan was probably reading too much into this, it had been a weird morning after all. Patting his hands, Scott stood up, back straight as a fucking ruler, and faked a cough, “I want you to be out and about in five, there are black molds on some corners of your bathroom. I want it gone before the plumbers arrive.”
Logan moaned out a protest, “It's Friday, we still have the whole weekend.”
“Better to start early then.”
Logan made a face, “Ya planning on cleaning yer way through yer vacation, Slim?”
“I plan to have my vacation in a clean place,” Scott replied evenly, “Know the difference,” he said with finality before marching out the room, sliding the door closed behind him as he left.
The second he heard Scott already a few steps away from his room, Logan groaned and fell backwards on his futon, both hands covering his face. What the fuck was that? He thought to himself. It just felt so natural to have Scott curl up beside him as if they’ve done this before, which they hadn’t. They had shared the same space before, not a fucking bed. Was his brain somehow feeding off from the idea that they were being a little too domesticated while living here?
Logan stared at the ceiling and looked back a few days since they started staying here. Nothing, there was absolutely nothing that could warrant Logan to feel comfortable enough to have Scott on his bed with him to fucking snuggle. What annoyed him more was how it just felt so natural to wake up and see the Boy Scout, usually seeing Scott first thing in the morning ruins his mood because that meant errands.
Whatever. Logan promptly thought before dragging himself out of bed, rummaging in his bag to get ready for the day. If he stalled in his room longer, Scott might barge in again and who knows what would happen next.
An hour later and a quick breakfast, Logan was taking a much needed breather outside. Even with a mask on, it was no match for his heightened sense of smell. The years of neglect, the combination of mold, mildew, and stale odors created an unpleasant and oppressive atmosphere in his bathroom. Logan was pretty sure the smell might linger a few days even after a few cleaning attempts.
“Your five minutes is up, Logan,” Scott called back from the inside.
“How much is it if we just buy a new bathroom?” Logan asked as soon as he saw the younger man stepping out. Mask pulled down under his chin, his hair lightly damped from sweat and the loose tank top he’s wearing wasn’t helping Logan’s imagination.
“You’re not really beating the irresponsible financial allegations going on around you,” Scott pointed out.
“Don’t need to be responsible when yer fuckin’ loaded,” Logan answered.
“Seeing that I died first before the Professor, no I am not,” Scott corrected, “The papers were still being processed, so as long as that’s on-going, Munroe’s the living beneficiary between the two of us.
Because of Scott’s sudden death, all of his assets weren’t under his name anymore, it wasn't completely handed over to the nearest relative but it was rather owned by no one. Paperworks were being filed and they were just waiting for updates now. The only thing that was settled early was Scott's title in the school, they're expecting full ownership next, or if luck came their way, everything else.
“Yer talking as if yer dead,” Logan grumbled, oddly feeling annoyed.
“Well,” Scott started with a shrug, “I did die.”
Logan scratched his temple awkwardly. The topic of death and Summers lately made his stomach churn. Maybe it was because of the new realization of feelings for the guy but he definitely didn't feel this odd when discussing Scott's short visit to the afterlife a few days back.
“Why are you wearing that?” Scott suddenly asked, the question felt unwarranted and the tinge of demand was heard causing Logan to startle a bit.
“Wearing what?” Logan asked dumbly before noticing the hand he used to scratch his temple was wearing a battered braided bracelet. The very same bracelet he never wore but just kept it close to him much like his dog tags. Logan stared at it for a good minute, wondering when the hell did he wear this and briefly remembered himself mindlessly rummaging his stuff in search of this just this morning. As if it was part of his morning routine to fucking wear this monstrosity.
Logan saw Scott staring at him, waiting, his expression unreadable.
“I’m making a fashion statement,” was his honest to god response because he can’t think of anything decent, not with those baby blues staring expectantly at him.
Scott blinked, turned to look around their deserted area before staring back at the older man, “To who?”
“Definitely not ya,” Logan scoffed, “Just drop it,” he immediately added after Scott opened his mouth to say yet another thing that Logan would have no idea how to respond to, “Let's just agree to disagree.”
Scott made a face this time, “Agree to disagree to what?” He asked incredulously, “You’ve been acting strange since this morning.”
Logan grimaced before pointing an accusing finger at the younger man beside him, “And we mutually agreed not to talk about it,” he reminded him.
“No promises were made,” Scott argued.
This time, it was Logan’s turn to make a face, “The fuck did ya want, a pinky promise?” he snapped.
Scott crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his hip slightly to the right, “Why are you acting so offended?” he asked, “Shouldn’t I be the one feeling affronted here?”
“I’m not offended, I’m—” embarrassed, his brain unhelpfully thought. But Logan’s not going to say that even if hell freezes first, “Look, just drop it or I’m ignoring ya.” Logan said with finality before marching back inside, finding the confines of his mostly molded covered bathroom more appealing than Scott’s probing.
It was barely audible, if it weren’t for Logan’s heightened senses, he wouldn't be able to catch the sudden sound of frustration coming out of Scott’s gritted teeth. It was short, as if it wasn’t meant to be voiced out but the sound just managed to come out without his consent. It oddly seemed similar to boiling water, spilling its content after being filled to the brim.
“Is that how your brain recovers memories?” Scott asked, causing Logan to immediately stop on his tracks, as if a wall suddenly popped up in front of him.
Slowly, the older man turned, the expression on his face blank, “What?” before Scott could say anything, Logan marched up on his space and pointed a threatening finger at his face, “My memories are none of yer fucking business,” he growled, “Ya got that?”
Logan wasn’t sure if it was his possessiveness, but it felt invasive for Scott to meddle with what was obviously his own issues. Feelings or not, his and Scott’s relationship weren’t anywhere yet for the younger man to meddle in on his business. They were barely even friends, colleagues sure, and other than the glaring tension between them since they met, that’s only how far their relationship had gone.
Scott’s face was impassive, it wasn’t unreadable like before, it was more of a mask to show what emotion was trying to break on face. “Alright.”
They stayed like that for a minute long before Logan angled his head towards his still dirty bathroom, reminding himself to buy a new bathtub since his old wooden one had already corroded, “C’mon, I don’t wanna end up cleaning the bathroom tomorrow.”
It was quiet between them again.
It was when Logan was scrubbing at the far corner when Scott decided to open his mouth again.
“What if you end up not liking it?”
Logan paused and turned, “What?” he asked, having no clue what prompted that question. Scott wasn’t looking, too busy wiping the wall opposite to him to even stare at the older man. The stiff shoulders indicated to Logan that maybe the no eye contact was a deliberate choice.
“Your memories,” Scott answered, still wiping back and forth, “What if you don’t like what you remember.”
To be frank, Logan never thought about that, it wasn’t his number one concern after waking up with nothing. But now that it was said, should it be a cause for concern? It had been more than a decade since he lost his memories, new ones were made and only then did small snippets of his past start to crack on the surface. Was he a different person back then? He sure as hell was not a nice one now, but what if he’s way worse before?
Hank had told Logan that his healing factor caused his lost memories to surface, if by chance he managed to do stuff that his old self does, the memories would slot itself into place. Of course that’s only a theory, he doesn’t have that kind of degree. Now that Logan thought about it, Hank’s been functioning as both field medic and in-house physician, despite not technically having a medical degree.
Logan stared at the wall for a minute, wondering. He felt like himself, if ever he wasn’t the person he was before, nothing would change. It’s all in the past, it would be hella grateful if he remembered it, but he already built himself a home and a family (not that he would fucking admit that out loud) to even be bothered. Besides, with his age, all the people he knew were either dead, dying or trying to kill him. In the end—.
“It wouldn’t matter,” Logan answered as he continued on scrubbing.
Scott stopped wiping the wall, “What if you had a lover?”
Logan was barely able to hold back his scoff, “With how old I am? They’re probably dead,” he answered, “Again, it wouldn’t matter. Now would ya mind continuing on scrubbing?”
Scott didn’t ask him any more questions. But they did bicker a lot before they finish cleaning. Logan's not going to admit it out loud, but taking a bath that night at the bath house felt like one of god’s gifts, just try to ignore old men’s balls within your radius and it was easy to enjoy the warm water. Also it was entertaining to watch Scott and his red ears scuttle around the place.
If Scott’s punches were a lot harder that night, then Logan pretended not to notice it.
And if Logan noticed that Scott felt more off footed than before. Well, he ignored that as well.
Logan was staring at the cloudless sky while Scott was busy cleaning indoors, something about dusts cumulating again after a day of neglect. If Logan didn't know any better, he would think Scott's pregnant because jesus fuck, it's been almost a week and his house was still a mess with all this major general cleaning going on.
“We should go out for a jog,” Logan suggested.
“We should start fixing your roof,” Scott countered, “I’m quite positive it won't shelter us that much when it rains.”
Logan groaned before indicating a hand towards the clear sky, “There's barely a cloud in the sky, Cyke.”
Scott gave him a look, a very annoying look that had Logan wanting to at least let him at it and punch the guy, “You sure did let go after taking residence at the mansion.”
“It's still early and yer already pissing me off.”
Scott straightened up and looked around the place, letting out a sigh as if regretting a choice already without even managing to make a one, “It would be a pain if all your newly purchased furniture gets wet.”
“It won’t rain,” Logan groaned through gritted teeth.
Scott gave him a look and tilted his head annoyingly, “How much did we already spend this week?”
Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ororo didn’t specify how long they should stay, it's not like Logan had a deadline but it's basic understanding that they should at least be back in a month. The remaining team could handle well on their own just fine, it's the amount of work that was the cause of concern. If they finished renovating the house quicker then Scott could have more down time to relax.
“Fine,” It felt like shards of glass were spilling out of his mouth as he agreed to it, “I’ll get the supplies.”
There were a bunch of holes on his roof, seeing it instantly depleted Logan’s already down mood. He's been working his ass off for Scott's spoilt well-being, he should at least reward himself a beer, or a smoke, god he fucking needs a smoke. He missed the taste of tobacco and alcohol, it felt like years since he last had one of those. He had been trying to bring Scott to a convenience store a few miles down, if the guy just didn't decline to the idea of going out for a jog, Logan wouldn't be feeling this moody.
Babysitting fucking sucked. Munroe and McCoy better make up for this.
“Less daydreaming and more working,” Scott ordered, pulling Logan out from his thoughts. They were both shirtless due to sweat, there was an unexplainable itch to cover Scott up from head to toe. Him and his territorial tendencies sure is a chore to work with.
“Only you would turn a vacation into work,” Logan mumbled irritably before sensing something and looking up, he took a sniff and cursed, “Fuck.”
“I told you it's going to rain,” Scott said without looking up as he patched one small hole after another, sounding very smug it pissed Logan off more. He must be high on crack to develop feelings for a stick up the ass guy like him. Why couldn’t he just go back to being basic and fall in love with hot bombshells like Jean, Ororo was a better choice than this guy.
“Just pick up the pace, Summers,” Logan grumbled and made the wrong mistake by glancing at the younger man. Logan paused and stared at those lean muscles and high cheekbones, those eyes that felt illegal to be hidden behind a pair of ruby quartz glasses, and those legs that could go on for ages. Jesus fuck Logan’s still as basic as bread dough, it just so happened that this one has repressed trauma bigger than his low self-esteem.
With how his house was neglected for years, they weren’t able to cover up all the holes his roof had before rain started to pitter. Scott argued that they could still cover a few patches but the rain was starting to pour down so hard that Logan ended up dragging Scott back down and basically pushing him off the roof. It’s a one story house, training in the Danger Room’s a lot more dangerous than falling off from this high.
The rain was pouring down hard. The two of them opted for their newly purchased buckets, pans, and mugs to catch water leakage, using bubble wraps to cover their futon and electrical appliances (not that they have many). The power was turned off incase water leaked into their electric lines and all of Logan’s old and broken furniture were left out the front porch.
They were seated at the back porch by the elevated wooden floor, watching the huge body of water from afar as the waves crashed against each other. The sound of rain and the droplets of water leaking into the house and hitting the pan made a somewhat relaxing rhythm, albeit sounding off tune. Something about this atmosphere felt good, it made Logan want to curl up in bed and sleep through the rain.
Stealing a glance, Logan saw Scott staring at the sea with a far off look, as if reminiscing a memory. It reminded him of the night where he asked Scott why he kissed him.
Kissed Scott.
Huh.
“Ya really don’t remember kissing me?” Logan asked out of the blue.
Scott’s head snapped towards him and blinked, eyes widening a bit as the question processed more in his head. They stared silently at each other, “I don’t.” he answered as soon as he realized that Logan’s not going to back down.
Logan stiffened before forcing himself to relax before Scott could notice his sudden change of demeanor.
That was a lie, Scott just lied to him.
It was a fucking bold faced lie and it was a damn good one. Although the thrum of Scott’s heartbeat was trying to remain calm, it wasn't the heart that Logan uses as reference to detect a lie. It was the scent, there's a chemical change within a person’s scent when they lie that Logan could easily smell.
“Ya sure? Ya don't remember kissing me at Alkali Lake?” Logan asked again, tone terrifyingly leveled.
“I don’t.” Another curt response that got Logan blinking this time, because that one, that one wasn't a lie.
The hell?
“Why are you asking me this?” Scott immediately asked, sounding irritated and awkward at the same time. Logan would've found it funny if he weren't being so confused right now.
“I—,” Logan started but his brain was getting delayed to think of a proper response, “I was… just trying to make sense of something.”
Scott stared at him and leaned back on the wooden wall, “I did die kissing someone, Logan,” Scott said, “It could be just an after effect.”
That was true, nothing he said hinted that he lied, but—But you called my name. And he should’ve used that as an argument, but his confusion got the best of him. How could someone just straight up lie and end up telling the truth? Unless Scott could control his odor, but seeing that that wasn’t part of his mutation, he shouldn’t be able to.
“The next time ya die, ya better not be having sex,” Logan said instead.
Scott made another face, “You’re saying that as if I sleep a lot,” he said, “Metaphorically and also quite literally.”
Logan grimaced, “I’m supposed to fix that as well.” He grumbled.
“Getting laid or having complete sleep?” The fact that it was a genuine question from the younger mutant made it depressingly funny. It’s stuff like these that reminded Logan that Scott has humor, albeit he doesn’t show it much because of the stick he has up his ass, with how long it’s been up there, it should’ve been a tree by now.
Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly, “Self awareness is good but ya should start fixing yer crap together.”
Scott frowned and tilted his head slightly to the right, his hair falling over his eyes that Logan should not give a fuck about, “It’s a personal choice, Logan, that’s disgusting.”
“I meant sleep ya fucking freak,” Logan bemoaned, “And even if it’s about getting you laid, we’re far away from any red light district.”
“It’s a form of cardio.” The younger mutant supplied in a matter-of-fact tone. It should start to sound annoying, but this type of topic sure made Logan feel less irritable and more interested, “It increases the amount of deep sleep a person gets, which is the most restorative phase of—” And Logan immediately lost interest.
“Ya telling me we should have sex rather than sparr at night?” Logan asked almost mockingly but if the shoe fits, he’s open to any suggestion.
Scott immediately stopped talking and stared at the older man with a deer-in-headlights type of expression. The minor redness of his ears was enough for Logan to feel good about himself, typically, Munroe would find this very childish, which it was, Logan’s not denying it.
Now that Logan thought about it, Furrball and Storm have bigger tendencies to mother hen Scott than himself ever since the unexpected Lazarus effect. Apparently, he’s not the only one who still felt rattled about the past events, not that he’ll admit that to anyone much more even say it outside his head.
“What made the impression for you to even suggest that?” Scott asked confoundedly.
Logan raised an eyebrow, “Really? Yer the one yapping about sex as a form of vacation.”
“You asked me what I do outside of school that doesn’t involve work,” Scott deadpanned, “What I do with Jean in our spare time is none of your business.”
Logan let out the loudest scoff he managed, “So knowing that ya bang yer girlfriend is? Is that yer lame way of telling me yer not a prude, or just a flex that you had a hot shot girlfriend even with that stick stuck up yer ass?”
“Your wit to mock knows no bounds,” Scott commented vacantly, “What are we even talking about?” He asked almost accusingly.
Logan raised both hands as if surrendering, “Hey, I’m just asking if ya want to have sex or not,” he teased.
Scott let out a frustrated groan, it wasn’t loud, it felt controlled to some extent, “Jesus Christ, Logan, I don’t.”
The smirk on Logan’s face melted away.
It wasn’t a lie.
Well.
To some extent it wasn’t.
Sometimes, lying could be half the truth if the situation deemed it. To be more simple, Logan interpreted it as Scott being open to the idea of sleeping with him if only the situation was more different. Different in what way? It wasn’t like there was even a basis to question this. The sudden awareness of this was a complete left field that Logan was surprised he wasn’t stunned speechless.
Maybe Logan’s looking far too deep into this.
“Way to knock me down a peg there,” Logan said, leaning back.
“Your ego’s already big,” Scott replied impassively, too impassively that Logan couldn’t help but notice the blush barely tainting his face, “I would be surprised if the comment even did anything to your egoistic nature.”
“Woah, pump the brakes, Cyclops,” Logan taunted, “Yer making it obvious that I got ya all flustered.”
Scott bristled, “I am not flustered.”
Lie.
”Sure, keep lying, it’s a great stroke to my ego,” and as if adding fuel to the fire, Logan placed both hands behind his head and pretended to get comfortable against the cold, hard wooden flooring.
“You’re a jerk.”
“Thanks, I try.”
The second it stopped raining, Scott all but dragged Logan back outside to continue fixing the roof while he wiped the floor clean, opting to keep the furniture covered in case there’s remaining leakage within the roof. Logan was left feeling vexed as he patch one hole after another. The air felt cold against his skin and the roof’s housing felt like blocks of ice. His body might run hot and could survive an extreme temperature drop, that doesn’t mean he liked it.
Logan was just managing to finish up the last patch when he noticed someone standing outside his wooden gate, hand barely raised as if the person was just about to call out to him. It was a woman, probably in her twenties but not older than twenty-four. Logan could be wrong, asians were typically known to look young.
”Scott?” Logan called.
”Yeah?” The younger man in question yelled back.
“We have a visitor.”
“Visitor?” Scott parroted before immediate footsteps were heard and Logan saw Scott’s head popping out the front yard, “We should really fix your gate,” he commented before greeting the young lady, pointing out first that he only understands English.
Knowing there’s another crap Scott wanted fixed, Logan finished up patching the last hole with an evident frown on his face. With a final look on his fine work, Logan dropped all supplies and jumped down from the roof, patting his hands on his jeans as a poor attempt to clean himself.
Seeing that Scott was still in the middle of a conversation with the woman, Logan presumed that she could speak english. Sensing him, Scott turned around and beckoned the older man to join their conversation, something tells Logan that he would not like where this was going.
”Logan,” Scott started as soon as Logan had joined them, “This is Yuki—” the said girl waved a hand with a sheepish smile on her face, Logan gave a curt nod, “They live a few houses down. She’s visiting her grandma for the weekend who lives alone with a leaking ceiling for a few months now.”
Logan stared at the younger man beside him, the expectant look on his face was already an explanation, “Are ye fuckin’ kidding me?”
The girl blinked in surprise and stared at Scott.
“No,” Scott replied without a second thought, “We’re doing this, pack up the supplies.”
“I can pay?” Yuki proposed, her voice thick with accent.
As expected, Scott immediately turned the offer down, “No need, we’re glad to just give a helping hand.”
Logan scoffed, “Speak for yourself,” he muttered that earned him a hard elbow on the side.
“Ignore him.”
The girl stared at them for a second before giving a very awkwards smile.
“If my grandma says anything, you can ask me, she only speaks very little,” Yuki said as they entered through the gate with Logan having the burden to carry all supplies.
“Oh, no need,” Scott said, earning a frown from the older man, “Logan’s very fluent with the language. Your grandma can just talk to him if there’s any concern.”
Yuki paused and slowly gave Logan a wary glance.
“Don’t worry, he’s good with people, especially with kids,” Scott supplied, after sensing her hesitation.
“Kids?” She asked.
To be perfectly real here, that did suggest a very disturbing thought.
“I teach at a school,” Logan offered.
”Oh, foreign languages?” she asked again.
“Self-defense,” in a way, but wasn’t said out loud.
Yuki blinked again, “That’s” she started, having the difficulty to find the right words, “… reassuring,” she finished, sounding far from being reassured.
“He’s not great with first impressions,” Scott interjected.
“I can see that,” she replied, usually Logan would find that rather offensive but he’s too annoyed to care.
For an old lady who lives alone, the house was pretty well kept. Yuki’s grandma, who was named Aiko, was a petite woman, barely hitting five feet. Her form was hunched back due to old age and her hair was fully white, although the absence of her using a cane was an indication she’s rather healthy for her age.
She’s also very set on feeding them until they burst.
“Iie, kekkou desu” Logan said for the nth time when she offered them another plate of mochi. He just went down to grab a glass of fucking water.
“Douzo, motte itte kudasai,” Aiko insisted.
Logan sighed.
“We should’ve just let them pay us,” Logan told Scott while he climbed the ladder, “Our mini fridge won’t fit all the crap the old lady’s trying to feed us.” He said before handing Scott the plate of mochi, the younger man pulled out a tupperware and added to the growing batch.
A few minutes passed when Scott went down to use the bathroom, he just barely set his foot on the ground when Logan hear Aiko speak somewhere below him, under the roof and away from his field of vision.
”Your face, familiar, yes?” She said, obviously talking to Scott, “Him too,” she added, indicating to Logan.
Scott was silent for a minute, as if assessing the words he had to say, “X-Men, television,” he said.
”No no, no terebi,” Aiko insisted.
“Oh— I see,” Scott replied, Logan could imagine the younger man looking around the house, searching for a non-existent television, “Umm, Logan lived here, very long ago.”
”Ahhh, yes yes,” She agreed, as if the memories from years ago was starting to resurface, “You too, yes?”
It felt strange.
Logan had been aware that he lived within the rural area in Nagasaki. Lately, only the old folks stayed while the newer generation moved into cities to pursue their careers. So it wasn’t far off from his expectation for someone to at least know him even in their very old age. It wasn’t like he stayed long enough in this neighborhood to leave a lasting impression, at least that's what he got with how little information he found about himself.
Either he’s life was boring or he’s just that good at hiding his tracks.
”Uh, sorry, no,” Scott replied carefully.
Logan stilled.
Because that, that was a bold-faced lie.