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Logan woke slowly, in the way he only could when he was here. It was not the safest place he could be, but it was pretty close. For a moment as he woke up, he imagined a place where he could belong. It was tainted by the knowledge that it would have to last forever. He showed no signs of aging, no merciful slowing. The developing feeling of being weighed down, though, was new, and could not earnestly be blamed on his metal skeleton. He quickly sat up and began dressing, jerking on his usual tank top and flannel; the thought that had come to him had looked disturbingly like Xavier’s school, though even in his imagination he could not bring himself to be closer than the outskirts. In his mind's eye he had watched them and thought himself a protector. He knew it was a lie. He zeroed in on the imaginary Rogue, and thought how she would age like the rest of them. Perhaps she would die never having been able to touch anyone with affection. Some people’s mutation was a curse. He was beginning to count his among them.
Adding to his disquiet, as he exited the room (pointedly not thinking of it as his room), having finished dressing as he pondered, he was met by Scott Summers. Scott was 30 now, and as proper as ever. Logan imagined he, at least, would never change, and would die with a stick up his ass. It was a mildly comforting thought, even as a part of him ached at the thought of Summers gone. Of any of them gone. To combat this wholly terrible wave of emotions, he greeted Scott warmly.
“Summers. Eagle scout convention to get to?” It was weak, but he could be forgiven due to the disquieting thoughts of the morning.
Summers swung his head resignedly to face him. The glasses hid his eyes, but he was long practiced at making his face convey his meaning. Today he looked distinctly unimpressed, and a good bit tired. Logan thought for a moment of putting him back in bed, of bundling him up in warm blankets and ensuring he didn’t get one of those headaches he was notorious for hiding until they were full migraines. He then promptly put the thought out of his mind because it was ridiculous and also untrue. All he wanted from Summers was exasperation and a spark of the anger that made him so much more fun; nothing so…tender. Or revealing.
“Logan. You have class in 10 minutes. Cutting it close.” Scott raised an eyebrow at Logan, who most definitely had not remembered that fact, but Scott didn't need to know that.
“On my way now, Slim. Want to sit in, get some pointers?” Logan smirked.
“Like you could teach me anything, caveman.” Scott snarked back, and walked away down the hall where he had been going (a half hour early) to his own class. Logan noted it was not as snarky as it could have been, and watched Summers’ retreat with mild suspicion. He smelled of a bit of pain; maybe he already had that headache.
He made his way to the Danger Room and leaned against the wall, waiting for the students to trickle in. Logan’s fighting classes were, of course, much more relaxed than what he knew Summers to be capable of. Loath as he was to admit it, Summers was a good fighter, and a good team leader. Logan wasn’t capable of the sort of commitment needed to be any sort of leader; it was a miracle he managed to run one class. From what he gathered so far from his sessions with Jeannie, he had always hated commanding officers.
That was another thing that added to his growing unease; Jean’s mission to give him himself back. Logan would wager just about everything that no matter what he’d done and been through, he’d always been himself, surly and unruly and gruff. But, Jean thought it was important that he knew who he was in a more literal sense. So far it had, predictably enough, uncovered a lot of fighting, for a lot of people. What was interesting, at least to Jean, was that it seemed like he had been fighting since at least World War I. Logan tried very hard not to think about that fact, and mostly succeeded. He wondered if Jean told Scott about it. She probably wouldn’t, most likely viewing it as his private information, but they did seem to tell each other everything. Logan felt a brief flash of jealousy, and told himself it was because he’d never had that sort of closeness with anyone as far as he knew. Comradery for gruff, 6’3”, 400 lbs Canadian mutants with knife hands was hard to come by. It was, of course, entirely his own fault, but that fact offered little comfort. He was broken from these thoughts by Jubilee, Rogue, Kitty, and Bobby running into the room, falling over each other in their haste.
“Logan!” Jubilee grinned. Against his best efforts, he could never be truly cruel to them, though a great many students were afraid of him by nature. Jubilee, of course, wasn't, nor were her friends. Bobby still was, which always made him smirk.
“Jubes,” He responded with a small smile he couldn’t help, “ready to kick ass?” Jubilee responded, predictably, with great excitement. An image came to him then, of her severely injured by his own hand, and his smile faltered. These thoughts were particularly persistent today, and he resolved to seek Jean out after his classes were done for the day. Maybe new-old memories would push out any unpleasant inventions of agony that hadn’t yet come to pass.
Marie noticed his hesitation and gave him a searching look. He shook his head lightly and straightened up. She took the hint, joining the rest of the class that had trickled in while he was lost in unpleasant thought. He felt a rush of fondness for her and tried to push it away. He was already too attached to her, to this place.
Logan took them through the usual drills, focusing on self defense. Their reputation as a school hinged on them not killing everyone who tried to kill them, but they could and should defend themselves against attacks made by the non-super villains of the world. He thought of Magneto, and how last time he had taken control of Logan’s body, he had made him attack Scott. Logan had broken every tendon in his body trying to resist. Hank had given him a very pointed look in the jet, recognizing how he was holding himself as he healed the extensive damage. Logan had ignored it completely and felt nothing in particular about it all.
He shook his head, and concentrated on the student’s attempts. His last class was at two, and he wrapped up quickly, praising those who deserved it and correcting those who struggled. He watched them go with a melancholy and pride he was deeply uncomfortable with, and quickly went to find Jean in the lab. He found her talking to Scott about something smart-sounding.
“Jean,” He interrupted Scott, “could we. Uh,” Here he faltered, and Scott raised his eyebrows a bit in…shock? Not concern, certainly. Logan noted he still looked a bit pinched and the pain scent was sharper. He again felt concerned for him against his will and pushed the feeling away sternly.
“Oh, yes,” Jean understood what he was getting at, and motioned him to follow her as she put the books they had been looking at to one side, telling Scott to, “hold that thought, we can continue later, sorry!”
Scott still didn’t look very put out, that same look of mild surprise and tiredness on his face as he assured her it was fine. Logan felt his gaze on him, even as his eyes remained obscured by his signature glasses. Logan, in turn, looked only at Jean in a way that was certainly not cowardly. He was just focused on the task at hand.
The task at hand, in actuality, did not require much from him. Jean only asked him to keep his mind ‘open’, so he usually engaged in a loose meditation while she worked. He began to enter this state as they sat down on the bench in the teacher’s courtyard, when Jean stopped him.
“Logan,” She began softly, “are you alright? You seem stressed today.” She frowned lightly. He loved her very much, and it hit him often in quiet moments. He knew he was not her closest friend, but she was perhaps his, and her kindness and goodness warmed him. He also knew that she was uninterested in him in any further way, and in reality he wasn’t interested either. He knew he wasn’t good enough for her if nothing else. She was a purely good friend to him for no reason and he often felt he would do anything for her. Another attachment that would spell his doom, or more likely, hers. Here he was reminded of that love, even as he was deeply uncomfortable being the topic of her concern.
“I’m fine, Jeannie,” He assured her gently, “just thinking about how old I am. And how young and gorgeous you are. Gonna get a complex,” he lied, though the first part was painfully true, and Jean's beauty was a known fact. Jean didn’t call him on it, and didn’t read his thoughts about it, only smiled and hummed knowingly. God, he loved her.
“Ready?” She asked instead, and he nodded, getting back into that meditative headspace. She closed her eyes and grabbed his hand. He smiled against his will, and allowed it because her eyes were still closed, and she was about to read his entire mind.
He drifted when they did this, the memories not as sharp as they would later be when he inevitably had dreams and nightmares and long contemplative moments about what was revealed. Things felt…softer in the moments of exploration. He wondered how it was for Jean, and felt a pang of guilt. She already knew hatred and fighting but he hated for her to know war. To be subjected to his life, his pain. He considered telling her she could talk to someone about what she saw in there; her close confidants were his, too. Except Scott, who he actually did not want to think of at the moment. This, of course, meant he did think about him. His mind drifted from a kind couple he was- naked in front of, for some reason. Huh. To Scott, unfortunately. He replayed their short conversation from this morning, and felt the thoughts he had had then come through crystal clear, and knew Jean heard them. He fought down intense embarrassment, though it was mostly futile. Hiding was sort of impossible right then.
She mercifully did not comment on his distinctly strange thoughts, and ignored the way his gaze had lingered on the man as he walked away. His mind was steered back to the previous memory, which concluded in a sad fate for people who had been kind to him when they had no reason to be. This of course made his mind drift to the school at large and everyone he cared about in it, dying violently by his hand, or because he had left them alone in one of his fits of cowardice. Perhaps worst of all, he saw them dying of old age after lives well lived that he could never truly be a part of. Jean did stop this time, perhaps sensing this would be harder to move on from. She gently retreated from his mind, squeezing where she still gripped his hand. His eyes had closed during the session, and he opened them to see her sad eyes already looking at him.
“Logan.” He prepared for a terribly kind speech, and was reminded again of her goodness when she simply said, “I love you too, you know. For exactly the same.” And, well. He had forgotten about what it really meant that he wasn’t heartbroken over Jean’s refusal the way he should have been, back then. He never could be normal, could he? It must be part of his charm at this point. And then he had very stupidly thought about Scott when she was in his head. He didn’t know why he thought he could get away with that one. His thumb stroked over the back of her hand. Best to ignore that, for now, and forever.
“You can tell people, what you see there. I know it’s not- great. Don’t keep it to yourself on my account.” He broke off, looking down at their hands. She breathed out a slightly amused puff of air, and when he looked up, he saw a fond expression on her beautiful face.
So sweet, she said into his mind, teasing. I won’t talk to Scott, she reassured, though he of course needed no such thing, but maybe you should, she continued. Damn. She grinned at him as he cleared his throat and got up, thanking her for her services gruffly. They exited the courtyard together, and the clock in the hall read out four-thirty. He was surprised; two and a half hours seemed too long for that little session. It was nearly dinner time. He parted ways with Jean with a nod and headed to his room to wait until then, and to- not collect himself, he was fine, just. Hang out. Of course, because life was a never ending hell, he ran into Scott on the way.
“You don’t smell like cigars,” Scott greeted, almost nonsensically. His face was a bit more scrunched than it had been before, though, so Logan let it lie in favor of giving him a once-over. He was tense, and smelt of that distinct long term pain Summers was prone to. Logan wondered what he was like before his power developed. He was probably always just like this, Logan concluded. He couldn’t picture a kid-version of Scott being anything other than just as stoic and in control. These thoughts were accompanied by an unsettling fondness, so he redirected.
“I’m the bloodhound around here, Slim. You should go to bed.” Okay. Distinctly not his usual banter, and even worse, notably kind. Whatever. The increased smell of pain was putting him on edge, and he almost dreaded its crescendo when the migraine hit. Summers always kept going when he really shouldn’t. Scott in pain wasn’t something he could necessarily ignore, for reasons he refused to examine. Scott had loved Jean too, with an admirable devotion; Logan was hot, but he knew he was no Jean Grey. He instead doubled down on his previous strange command. “I’ll bring you a plate, but I can smell your migraine coming. Go lay down before you whine all night, Scott.” Damn. Too nice by far and he used his real name. Telling, telling. He prayed for some classic Summers obliviousness.
“...Fine. But get me some vegetables, carnivore.” Thank god. The day Scott Summers understood when someone had unspecified deeply embarrassing feelings for him without them telling them to his face was likely never to come. Great news for Logan, bad news for Slim in the long run, but who cares. Logan has earned a few uncharitable thoughts toward Summers’ faceless future partners.
Logan grunts, and begins to head to dinner a bit early to get Summers’ plate while he won't be examined by students and fellow instructors who may think he’s gone soft.
“Thanks, Logan.” Scott’s soft gratitude stops him for a second, but he just grunts again, and keeps walking. Damn, Summers. Damn it.
Plate piled high with everything a pretentious pretty boy needs to get big and strong, he starts to turn and leave when he sees Hank, arms crossed and staring at him, once again, extremely pointedly.
“Scott has a headache,” Hank starts, because he’s very strange. “Any relation to why this is happening?” He raises a blue eyebrow. Logan is very tempted to grunt again, but he has some standards.
“Nope.” His standards include blatant lies. Hank knows this, and somehow stares harder. Logan ignores him and proceeds on his route. He doesn’t let his stride slow even as he can still feel Hank’s eyes on him as his lie becomes more obvious with each step in the direction of the wing his and Scott’s rooms are in. As some of the more spontaneously dangerous members of the faculty, they’re in a wing furthest from the kid’s rooms. Thinking of Scott and spontaneous in the same sentence should provoke a chuckle, but Logan has been annoyingly introspective today. He instead thinks again on mutation as a curse. Scott’s probably makes the cut, too.
He reaches Scott’s room and lightly raps his knuckles on the door twice, receiving a soft grunt from Scott he probably would have missed if not for his enhanced senses. The scent of pain was stronger now, though as he entered he could see that Scott still had on the full sunglasses, which may be a contributing factor. Logan made a ‘click’ with his mouth, and was reminded of doing the same years earlier, with an axe in his hand. He pushed it away, and assumed Scott’s eyes were closed with how he didn’t seem to notice his lapse; small mercies. He set the plate down on Scott’s barren side table with only a very basic alarm clock for company. It was somehow endearing. Damn.
“Got your leafy greens, boy scout. Now take off the glasses.” Gentleness is still not in his repertoire, no matter inconvenient feelings. Scott scrunched his eyebrows, preparing to be obstinate. Logan intervened. “Sit up, here,” He assisted him in doing so, propping a pillow behind the small of his back as he leaned against the headboard, “and take ‘em off. Even if you slip I’ll live, and I know you won’t anyway, Captain tightass.” Scott’s mouth twisted in obvious disagreement, so Logan took advantage of his close position and grabbed the glasses by the frame, shocking Scott into silence. Shit. “Close your eyes,” He warned, and gave him a second to do so before gently pulling the glasses off. Shit. Clenched shut eyes aren’t usually tantalizing, but on Scott they sure are. A part of him he’s never seen, probably would never see if he wasn’t in pain. That thought sours his ogling, and spurs him into finishing his task. He sets the glasses on the side table too, in reach, and gets Scott’s special night glasses from the top drawer of his dresser. He only knows about their location because he had grabbed them when Scott was injured, once. Jean had told him where they were, and had looked at him with a knowing gaze and not explained why she didn’t get them herself. Hm. Telepaths. There's an eye mask in the same drawer, and Logan grabs it, putting it with the glasses for after he eats if he wants. Scott strikes him as the type who may only use it on special occasions, preferring the night goggles for maximum ability to respond to any potential emergencies. Also endearing. Shit.
He crouched down and touched the bed to alert Scott of his closeness, and gently rested the much more relaxed and comfortable glasses on his nose. It was a good nose, he thought wildly. He then tried very hard to think uncharitable thoughts about the man before him, and was distressed to find he couldn’t think of much. Or anything, really. Such a boy scout. He refocused and found Scott looking at him. Shit.
He cleared his throat, pushed out a gruff, “Eat. Sleep,” and made an entirely brave and manly retreat. He resolved to punch a lot of things very soon, and made his way back to the dining room.
“Logan,” Ororo greeted warmly when she saw him, catching him at the doorway before he fully entered. “Just in time. The kids were just whispering about sneaking out. Think you could put the fear of Wolverine into them for me?” Her blue eyes flashed mischievously, and he grinned.
“Anything for a goddess,” He teased with a purr. She rolled her eyes, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. Ororo was another he cared for deeply, along with Hank when he wasn’t being annoying. He usually felt all the more alone for it, but in moments like these he felt a perfect warmth. He imagined she would make a great headmistress one day, but that thought conjured up images of a gone Charles. It also begged the question of if he would be around to see it. He focused instead on Storm’s steadfast nature, allowed himself to find Hank’s meddling endearing, and went to get himself a plate. He sat with the other teachers, the chair beside him sitting empty where Scott usually was. No one seemed surprised he was missing. He’d probably been in pain all day; idiot. Charles wasn’t with them, but he usually ate a bit earlier. He had an air of mystique to maintain for the kids, after all. Logan hoped to run into him tomorrow, and resolved to seek him out to ensure it.
Charles, by nature, knew more about Logan than he was strictly comfortable with. Logan didn’t love it, but he trusted Charles, and had so far been correct in that trust. He got occasional solemn looks when the nightmare-memories had been bad, but Chuck mercifully never said anything. Logan cared for him deeply and was happy he never had to say it aloud; sometimes telepathy was nice. He came back to himself as he finished eating. He stood up, looked at the kids eating nearby, and made his play.
“I’ll be out on the porch tonight. No one bothers me, got it?” He put a bit of a growl in his tone. Wide eyes and furious nods greeted his announcement, though he saw Marie rolling her eyes. Smart kid. He turned to put his plate in the sink and caught Storm’s eye, winking. She grinned furtively back. He then caught Hank and Jean’s eyes, which were under some very raised eyebrows, and their collective stare could be described as distinctly unimpressed. He pointedly continued his path to the sink, and then made the perfectly normal decision to go to Scott’s room and…smell him. For his pain levels. He’d force a couple painkillers down his throat if it was bad.
He reached Scott’s room and leaned close to the door, careful not to make any noise, smelling for him carefully. Summers, to Logan’s happy surprise, smelled okay. Still in pain, but not any more than before, and maybe even a little less. Logan stepped back, pleased, and walked off to make good on his threat of occupying the porch. He heard a creak as he did so, and looked back to see Scott opening the door, tilting his head in Logan’s direction. He looked adorably rumpled, still in his clothes from earlier, with unkempt hair that was completely out of character. Logan cursed internally and thought of a great many disgusting and sad things to combat the absurd warmth that bloomed in his chest at the sight.
Scott interrupted his internal debate. Rude. “Logan?” His voice was a bit rough. Shit. It was cute, and hot. Shit. “Where are you going?” He continued, in that same deeply unfair voice.
Logan took a moment to snap out of it, then responded. “I’ll be on the porch tonight. Kid watch. ‘Ro thinks someone might make a run for it; I’m the scare factor.” He grinned, showing sharp teeth in an effort to rile Summers up a bit. It worked; he heard Scott’s heartbeat skip a beat, then continue a bit faster than previous. He would have to content himself with these small victories if he was going to keep being so lame and un-scary.
“I’ll join you, if you don’t mind,” Scott shattered any illusions of Logan ‘winning’ anything today. What. No.
“Slim, you should be in bed-” He was cut off, thankfully, by petulance. Petulance wasn’t cute, he thought, mildly hysterical.
“I’m not going to sleep through the night if I keep laying around, Logan. I’ll take a Canadian beer and endure strong, sullen silence, and I’ll be fine.” Shit. It was cute. And he knew it was a dig, but his hindbrain preened at the ‘strong’ mention. Ugh. He was really terrible. Logan clung to this thought as he caved immediately. Small, small victories.
“Alright, just don’t run over every battle scenario and lesson plan in your head until it just gives in and explodes. Think about a girl or something, stay relaxed for god’s sake.” Why did he say that. He did not want Slim to think about girls. He should, though, and he would. He could picture Scott with a leggy redhead, or blonde, or anyone, and suddenly felt a concerning rage toward women-Scott-might-date that was unfair and lightly problematic. This was getting out of hand. He clung to the thought that Scott didn’t like men, especially not taller, broader, hairier, beastly men. He then was visited by the thought that whoever he ended up with, they should at least be able to grow old with him, and found a frown on his face. In his thinking, he missed the expression that had flashed on Scott’s face at the ‘girls’ suggestion. When he came back to the present, Scott was still looking at him, as far as he could tell with him still wearing his glasses (the nighttime ones, still, he noted with entirely ridiculous satisfaction). He quickly schooled his features and motioned for them to get going. He led Scott to the garage first for the provisions. Scott quirked a brow as they entered, and his expression twisted into annoyance when he saw Logan’s super secret hiding spot was a cooler, not at all hidden from wandering child’s eyes.
“Logan, what if the kids get in to-” Scott started, very predictably.
“No one but us and Hank comes in here, lighten up.” Logan countered, not bothering to turn around. There weren’t a lot of people he’d show his back. They were all in this building, in fact. He wondered if they really trusted him to have theirs. He again snapped out of his thoughts and straightened from his position bent over the cooler. He threw a tarp haphazardly over it for Scott’s delicate sensibilities. Turning back to Scott, he gave him one beer to hold while he carried the rest of a six-pack. It wasn’t like he could get drunk, so no limit was needed. They headed out to the porch and settled in the chairs set out for- not this exact purpose, but close enough. Logan noted with satisfaction that the chairs were flush together, and then berated himself and thought about pulling his discreetly away.
Scott plopped down in the left-most chair while he thought, and Logan resolved to just be very normal about it all, joining him. He pulled a beer out of the pack, opening it and taking the first sip. Canadian beer was a familiar taste to him, even if the finer details had changed a lot in 200 years. His brain skipped on that fact; 200 years. How much more would he see? Would there eventually be peace for mutants, or an extinction event? Would peace be worth it, if it meant there would be no need for the school anymore? He knew it was, of course, but allowed himself to feel real sadness at the thought of the school gone, obsolete. All his friends scattered to the wind, able to focus on their lives while he had…no one. Again.
He pictured Scott as a teacher at a regular high school, and found comfort in his steadfast nature once again; Scott would always be making students groan somewhere. No one found literature as interesting as he did, but he was merciless in his efforts to make them at least understand it. Logan thought then of his own handwriting. The swooping calligraphy that showed his age, a childhood education he still couldn’t remember. That part of his life seemed…blocked, somehow, by his mind. He wondered what could be worse than what he’d already seen. He remembered the experiments, the wars. Kayla. Sabertooth. Betrayal on all sides. Logan wondered, then, about his nature. Men like Sinister and Victor knew who they were, owned it in their cruel ways. Who was he, other than a too-many-times-over veteran who couldn’t stand to make connections with people who would always leave him. It was better to leave first, he thought, and then felt a very disturbing tugging in his chest. He thought of Rogue, and Charles, and Jean, and snuck a glance at Scott.
To his surprise, Scott was already looking at him. Logan quirked a brow.
“What’s on your mind, Slim? You feeling alright?” Shit. Highly inconvenient feelings were making him give away too much. Maybe he should leave for just a bit, if he couldn’t bear to leave fully yet. Scott was still looking at him, now with a bit of a furrowed brow, which was expected because Logan was being very weird.
“You’ve been distracted today.” Scott started, in a way that made Logan prepare to roll his eyes at a lecture, but Scott continued. “Are you alright?” Shit. He resisted the urge to be cruel to get them back on track, and blamed his hesitancy on Scott’s headache. He looked into Scott’s glasses and wondered what color his eyes were. If he even knew. He looked away before he did something stupid, and decided there wasn’t too much harm in having a genuine moment with Scott. Something to remember him by, maybe. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust Scott, anyway. He trusted him more than anyone.
“Me and Jeannie, we’ve been-” He stopped and cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. Just because he trusted him didn’t mean it was easy to talk about. He’d always been private, he was learning. He looked back at Scott and found a strange, dejected expression on his face. A bit of anger, perhaps. Hm. “She’s been on this kick of…giving me my memories back. So I just have, y’know. More to think about.” He continued. Under his breath, he added, “A lot more.” He frowned, then pointedly did not frown.
Scott’s expression had smoothed out, now showing mild concern, and more than a bit of understanding. Strange guy, Logan tried to think instead of what he actually thought, which was a series of pleas begging for Scott’s love. That, of course, could not be allowed.
Scott, as always, was annoyingly smart. “How much more?” He asked, kinder than he should be to someone like Logan. Maybe he should tell him what he thought of him, what he wanted from him, if only to get him to look at him with the anger and disgust he deserved.
Logan knew what he meant, and saw no point in holding out. “About 200 years more, it seems. ‘Lot of dog tags.” He looked out at the grounds. The sun was almost done setting, leaving a line of color over the horizon. He tried to find comfort in it, but he never had before and wouldn’t be able to start now. He’d seen too many. Scott probably only saw red, he thought. Ironic for a guy who never got nearly as angry as he should. “Sabertooth’s my brother, turns out. Got me this shiny skeleton as a gift, nice guy.” He paused, feeling quite exposed, but continued. “I don’t know why he…is that way, still.” That was too much, but it was already out there now. It would at least do the work of putting Scott off from being any nicer to him, now that he knew a bit more about what kind of man he’d always been. The kind of man that makes his brother hate him that much. He thought of his claws, and then of Kayla. Thought about why he had tried to love her, and knew why. It was what he’d always longed for. A place to call his own, a person he should want, who wanted him too. He understood why she’d done what she had to, in the end, but Victor was a special case. He wondered if he really deserved all that hate, and then determined he probably did. Thought of the hole in his memory that for now refused to be filled. Thought of two mutants in the 1800’s, bound by blood, hating each other so completely they went their own way with no guarantee there was anyone else like them in the world. Yeah, he probably deserved it.
Scott took him out of his swirling thoughts. “I can’t remember anything from before my parents dying, and a good bit after it is fuzzy too. The Professor said I would have been able to control my power if not for a brain injury I got in the orphanage.” He pushed the words out in a rush, like he didn’t want to linger on it. Logan stared. He hadn't known that. Again, a terrible thought came to him, this time detailing how he would want to learn about Scott forever, if he could. The more acceptable thought of murdering whoever had hurt him so badly he could never see in color again came as well. That he could deal with. “And then after that…I don’t like Sabertooth much either. I think he’s just…wrong. And maybe, mad about being the way he is, you know? The same way sometimes we’re mad about being the way we are, but his is…deeper. It’s his nature, not his mutation.” Scott flushed then, like he didn’t mean to say that much. His head was angled a little away from Logan, but tilted up like he couldn’t help but peek at what his face must be doing. Logan let his face do whatever it wanted. Scott understood, more than Logan had thought he would. He was struck by the sudden urge to touch Scott, feel around and make sure he wasn’t injured. The fact that he thought Scott’s hair was probably very soft only added to this instinct. He realized he had raised his hand to do just that, and quickly dropped it.
Just then, he heard a window open on the right side of the building, and faint whispers. He smirked, glad for the distraction to remind him he was meant to be scary and closed-off. He got up, stopping to explain at Scott’s confused and mildly hurt look.
“I hear some would-be escape artists. Duty calls.” Scott looked…relieved. Hm. He walked off, and heard Scott begin to follow. He paused to let him catch up, and decided teasing was his best defense, as usual. “I thought you’d frown on scare tactics, Slim. Got claws I don’t know about?” Weak. Whatever, it made Scott give him a nice little scowl, so it worked well enough.
“I frown on sneaking out at night without supervision, and if you're what gets them to stay inside, so be it. Even if we all know you’d never actually hurt them, so the threat can’t be that effective.” Scott smiled smugly. Logan scowled, now. Uncool to point it out.
“I’m an immortal, invulnerable, 400 lbs guy with knife hands. I think the threat will always be effective.” He snarked back. It didn’t escape his notice that before he had thought of all of those qualities as burdens. In this context, in the school’s context, they didn't seem so bad.
Scott did a double take, seemingly shocked. “How are you 400 lbs? There's not a spare ounce on you.” Logan smirked, and gave his temple a knock. The dull metal sound that answered seemed to shock Scott.
“The metal is that heavy?” He seemed a bit…sad. Logan refused to dwell on it.
“Yep. Why I’m a shit swimmer,” He grinned wolfishly. It was a half truth. He hated water in general after the experiments, but he also was much too heavy now to do anything other than sink to the bottom. Scott frowned, and then huffed. Good.
“Just go scare some kids, big bad Wolverine.” Scott rolled his eyes. He thought he did, at least.
Logan grinned and made his way under the window, where none of the kids had noticed him yet. He saw Jubilee, Bobby, Piotr surprisingly, and Kurt, more surprisingly. What that group was looking to get up to was a mystery almost worth letting them do it. Bobby saw him first, and let out a high ‘squeak’ of fear, which, along with his wide eyed stare, alerted the others. Jubilee huffed and hung her head in defeat, while Kurt waved, obviously very nervous. Piotr was hard to read. Bobby was still scared shitless, which was comforting. He gave a sharp, toothy smile, and waved back at Kurt. Jubilee muttered something along the lines of ‘Whatever, ugh, Logan…’ and closed the window, giving him a small secret smile back. He chuckled as he walked back to Scott, who was already looking at him. Quite intently, in fact. Hm.
“Up to your standards, ‘Cap?” Logan teased, smile still on his face. Scott didn’t respond, and seemed to be examining him closely. Logan didn't care for it, and headed back to their spot on the porch. He heard Scott follow. When Scott took his seat beside him he gestured for Logan to hand him another beer, having finished the first one while they were talking. Logan raised an eyebrow in question.
“You sure? Might hurt your head,” Logan didn’t used to know that; it's certainly not something he has to worry about. He learned, though, by watching Scott. It made sense, the sort of wobbliness people described when they drank must not mix too well with permanent red-quartz glasses. Knowing Scott, he probably tortured himself with thoughts of control whenever he got even the slightest buzz. It couldn't be relaxing. Scott nodded, though, and it made Logan’s chest warm undeservedly. It didn’t mean anything, he just was one of the only people Scott couldn't kill if he tried. That's all. He distracted himself by grabbing a beer, now barely cold, and handing it to Scott. Their fingers brushed, and Logan pulled away quickly for his sanity.
Scott opened it, flinching slightly at the noise, and took a sip, wrinkling his nose minutely. Logan huffed out a small laugh. Scott looked up at him at the sound.
“You don’t actually like beer, do you?” Logan asked, amused. Scott, inexplicably, flushed. Shit. Cute.
“It tastes bad, but all alcohol does. And I never drink enough to get used to it, or whatever other people do.” Scott defended. “And…you like it.” He looked down, flushing more. What. Logan’s laughter cut off, and he stared uncomprehendingly down at the blushing man. What. Scott looked up, and seemed to become inspired by something, continuing. “Tell me if I’m really wrong. I probably am. Sorry.” What. He was so distracted he didn’t notice Scott’s hands reach up for him until they touched his neck and promptly pulled him down to Scott’s level. “Sorry,” Scott breathed, and then he kissed Logan. What? Logan was struck by the brilliant idea that nothing else mattered right then, and devoted all brain power to kissing back as thoroughly as he could. He kept it sweet, because Scott was sweet. He tasted like the beer he didn’t even like, and Logan was losing it a little bit. He gave in to the urge to touch Scott, bringing one hand up to feel, yes, very soft hair, and the other down to his waist, gripping him gently. He squeezed the hand at his waist, and Scott let out a noise. Logan pulled back from the kiss, not going too far, staring into those glasses. Scott breathed hard, and blushed redder than before. Cute. Distracting.
“What was that, Slim?” Logan ground out, a growl in his tone. Scott looked down and tried to pull away, but Logan kept his grip secure. “No, no, stay. C’mon, stay with me.” Logan crooned, a bit desperately. Scott relaxed some in his grip, biting his lip. Shit. Logan gave in to the urge to pull it out from between his teeth, relishing in the hitched breath the action garnered.
“I thought…you and Jean. But then, you said it was for the memory thing, and I just. Hoped, and then got a bit ahead of myself because I thought you might,” He cut himself off. Logan was losing his mind, maybe a lot. He tried to think responsibly, remember all the thoughts that had plagued him today, all the reasons to stay away from Scott for his own good. It was proving difficult.
“Summers, I’ve got a thing for you. I-” He cut himself off by kissing Scott again. Selfish, but he’d take what he could get. Scott was so good. He tightened the hand in his hair accidentally, and was rewarded with another sound from Scott’s perfect lips. He pulled away with great difficulty. “Slim, I’m old. I’m only gonna get older, but I’ll always just be this. I can’t give you what you deserve. I’ll leave, if you want, but just- think about it, and. I’d never let you go Summers, so you’ll have to tell me if you don’t want me.” Logan was proud of himself or getting it out, disjointed and pathetic as it was. Scott’s expression twisted.
“Don’t be noble and self-sacrificing, Logan, it doesn’t suit you. I know what I want, and I have for a while, and. All the rest means is you won’t leave me. So, no. I want you, and you’re not allowed to let me go.” Oh, he was stubborn. Logan felt a concerning amount of emotions for him. It also occurred to him that obviously Scott, with his history, wouldn’t want to be left. And Logan had the ability to truly, never leave him. The only problem was, Logan didn’t know if he could let him go. Ever. He felt a cold begin to spread within him at the thought of losing him now, and pushed it away firmly. Maybe he could cash in that favor with Wade and have him talk to Lady Death, if Scott was amenable. He was getting ahead of himself.
“Okay, okay. Don’t have to tell me twice. Shit.” Logan felt himself smiling widely, filled again with warmth, and let it happen. Scott matched him, letting out a very adorable giggle. Shit. Logan would be very much wrapped around his finger from now on. He breathed in, smelling Scott’s arousal, and was suddenly feeling very possessive. “We gotta tell ‘em you’re mine, Scotty. They can’t have you. No one can.” Logan growled, slightly pleading with his mate. Mate. Yeah, that was right. He was maybe getting a little unhinged, but gave himself some leeway. He never thought this would happen. A lot of his problems seemed a lot smaller suddenly. The world narrowed to ScottScottScott.
“Yeah, might as well, seeing as we have to walk back to our rooms and I have a feeling it will be very obvious what we were doing. Also, telepaths. Also, no one can have you, either.” Scott agreed, and then killed him with the last part. God, he’s hot. Logan kissed him again, because he really had to, and then reminded himself of Scott’s headache. He nuzzled into Scott’s neck and took a long sniff, checking for pain. To his delight, it was very low-level, the best it’d been since that morning.
“Are you…sniffing me right now?” Scott sounded flustered, his voice squeaking at the end of the question. Logan grinned against his skin, and felt him shiver. Cute.
“You’re still in a little pain. You should go to bed.” Logan sweetened his words with a press of his lips to his neck.
“I’m fine, but…” Scott trailed off, sounding a bit embarrassed. Logan picked up his head, looking at Scott once more. He dragged the hand still in his hair down to his neck, over the spot he had kissed.
“What is it, Scotty?” He murmured as softly as he could with his rumbling timbre.
Scott appeared to gather his courage, taking a quick breath in. “Would you come with me?” Logan grinned lasciviously. Scott took a hand off his face to smack him lightly on the shoulder. “Not like that, perv, just. Don't leave me alone.” He seemed a bit embarrassed, so Logan kissed him again, for purely chivalrous, reassuring reasons. Scott was pushing through a lot, to ask that, but of course his bravery wouldn't falter now. He was looking forward to taking care of their fearless leader. He deserved to let go and be held steady.
“‘Course, Scotty. Not gonna let you go.” Logan reassured him. He stood up, guiding Scott to do the same with a hand on the small of his back. Scott shivered again, and looked up to catch Logan’s smirk. Scott glared at him, and Logan laughed against his will. It was still fun to rile him up, and now the possibilities were endless. He let go of him as they re-entered the school, thinking that while Scott may be okay with people knowing, he may want to keep things platonic in public. He was pleasantly surprised when Scott blushed and grabbed his hand, pulling him along to their wing. Their room, for the night.
Logan was serious about being very clingy for the foreseeable future, and was planning on going straight to Scott’s room, jeans and all, but Scott stopped them by Logan’s door.
“Get changed, and brush your teeth. You can leave me for 5 minutes.” Scott smiled. Shit. Logan would do anything for that smile. Everyone was going to make fun of him for this, rightfully so. He couldn’t imagine not bending to Scott’s every whim. There goes his image.
“Fine,” He frowned, but complied, squeezing Scott’s hand before letting go. He then embarrassed himself by completing the tasks with extreme haste and mild prejudice. At least he was in the privacy of his room. He didn’t want to linger, be struck by his morbid thoughts. If he was honest, Scott cured a lot of them. He was Logan’s connection to the world that had always passed him by. He felt…grounded, in a way that was usually impossible. Scott would keep him present, literally and figuratively. He couldn’t imagine leaving now, missing anything. He smiled, thinking of watching Rogue grow up, and didn’t allow himself to grow melancholy. He’d watch over them, make sure they could be what they wanted to, what they were meant to. Scott would be by his side. Logan wouldn’t be an animal, or a weapon. No one here thought of him like that anymore, he knew, but he did.
He ignored any and all further introspection by using all his will power to walk calmly to Scott’s room instead of sprinting. He knocked before entering, and walked in to find Scott looking. Troubling. Logan wore boxers and a tank top, which was more than he usually wore, and Scott wore boxers with an oversized t-shirt. Logan was unsure if he could handle this. He tried to reel himself in, because Scott was looking at him while he glitched and it's just a t-shirt get a grip, but god. Logan made a note to trick Scott into wearing his clothes in the near future. Scott wasn’t a small guy, but Logan was bigger, and broader. He would look very good. Logan made a concerted effort to stop thinking about it, and mostly succeeded. He approached Scott where he stood in front of the bed and relished how he had to tilt his head up to keep looking at him. He placed careful hands on Scott’s hips, and then thought of something he hadn’t before. He frowned, kicking himself. Scott noticed, of course.
“What?” He asked, looking slightly nervous. He should be nervous, shit. He put his arms back around Logan’s neck anyway, and the rush of fondness that followed was almost overshadowed by his realization. Logan cursed himself for having been philosophical before, forgetting the more immediate danger he posed to Scott. His chest ached.
“If I fall asleep, I’ll hurt you. The claws,” Scott seemed sad, so he rapidly attempted to reassure him. He couldn’t take sad. “I’ll stay with you, I’ll just make sure to stay awake. I won’t hurt you,” He knew he was perhaps coddling Scott, the leader of the X-Men, but he couldn’t help it. If he could prevent Scott from ever hurting again, he would. Scott didn’t need the protection, and would refuse it if it was offered plainly, but Logan couldn’t help it. Scott was his, his to protect and love. Oh, shit. Love was the end point here, wasn’t it. He ignored that in favor of listening to Scott’s response.
“I’m not worried, Logan, and you’re not staying up all night. We have team training tomorrow, for one thing.” Logan opened his mouth to protest, but Scott took a hand away from his neck and held up a finger. Logan was ashamed to say it was effective. “Look, just, I’ll show you.” He blushed again as he started to pull him towards the bed. Logan was pleasantly surprised at how prone to flushing he was, and allowed himself to be pulled. Scott laid down in bed, and tugged on Logan’s hand to encourage him to do the same. Once Logan was flat on his back, Scott rested his head on his chest, and got comfortable. Logan, bemused but pleased, wrapped his arms around him and waited for whatever Scott was getting at.
“Okay, take the claws out.” Scott said. What.
“What?” Logan asked, incredulous. Scott usually made more sense than this.
“No, just, look. Your knuckles aren’t facing me. If they come out, they’ll only hit open air. It’s only a problem if we’re far apart. I’d wager you wake up pretty quickly after they come out, so no slashing to worry about.” Logan felt a surge of affection for him, even as he made a note to have Hank make him a device to sheathe his claws at night, just in case. For now, though, Scott’s plan was good. Really good. The fact that it meant he was in Logan’s arms was a bonus.
“Okay. Okay, just. If I get out of hand, do whatever you have to subdue me. I mean it, Scott.” He’d live through anything, anyway. He wouldn’t be able to live with having hurt Scott when he trusted him not to. Scott frowned, but nodded, head still on Logan’s chest. Logan allowed himself to stroke Scott’s hair, and found a long line of thick scar tissue on the occipital. He felt rage once again, and sadness and admiration in quick succession. Scott was stronger than he let anyone know. Scott raised himself up a bit then, and reached for his eye mask, still on the end table where Logan had left it for him. Scott slipped off the night glasses, revealing once again scrunched shut eyes, and went to put on the eye mask when Logan stopped him. He reached up, brushing his fingers gently over the closed eyes, the skin around them. No one else saw this. No one else got to have Scott like this. Scott wouldn’t wear the eyemask around just anyone, he was sure. Maybe Jean, maybe the Professor, and now Logan. He smiled, and pulled his hand back, letting Scott continue.
Scott slipped the eye mask on and, looking extremely cute, flopped back onto Logan’s chest.
“Jesus, you’re like a furnace. Is it the hair?” Scott snarked in a tired voice. Logan scowled, and then realized Scott couldn’t see him and let it drop.
“You’ll save a fortune on blankets, can’t you be grateful for anything?” Scott would never have more blankets than necessary, control freak he is, so the jab doesn’t quite make sense. Logan forgives himself in light of recent events. He also remembers Scott needs to sleep. “Sleep, Scotty. I’ll be here.” He indulged in a kiss to the top of Scott’s head and rubbing his hand up and down his back, feeling him in a way he’d never thought he would be able to. Scott made a ‘hmm’ sound, pressed a quick kiss to Logan’s collarbone, and settled further into him, clearly tired and giving in to the need to sleep. Logan smiled, and tried to follow him.
Logan woke to an alarm blaring, and started momentarily before being stopped by a weight on his chest. He could sit up without issue, he could bench press the weight currently on him, but he stopped, settling back down because he knows this weight. It’s his Scott. Scott-that-is-now-his. He smiled, and watched him breathe. He hadn’t hurt him, and had actually slept soundly. He couldn’t remember having had a dream of any sort, which was unusual. Sleep was where new-old memories loved to haunt him. He was grateful for the reprieve, and knew it was Scott’s doing. Scott’s presence was enough to make him feel better on the worst day, and yesterday had been a decidedly good one. He also had a lot more than just Scott’s presence now. He had all of him. Logan began to run his fingers through Scott’s soft hair, knowing Mr. Fearless Leader actually did want to get up with his too-early alarm clock. He was surprised he hadn’t already, but the headache and emotions must have tired him out. Scott began to stir under Logan’s ministrations, and groaned lightly. Logan loved the sound. Shit. This was going to be a real problem.
“Scotty,” Logan started, and Scott froze.
“What?” Scott shot up onto his elbows, eye mask askew, and reached a hand in the direction of Logan’s face. Logan caught his hand, confused.
“You want your regular glasses? You okay?” Logan was going to be so gentle with him forever, unfortunately. Love and its consequences. He reached to get the glasses before Scott could respond, knowing his answer already. “Close your eyes, Scotty.” He could tell Scott complied by his scrunched eyebrows, and gently pulled off the eye mask to reveal that now familiar sight he would never get tired of. He gently placed the day glasses on Scott’s nose. It was a good nose, he thought fondly. He cupped a hand on Scott’s cheek, waiting for him to wake up fully. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a morning person as he appeared.
“Logan? What…” Oh, he didn’t remember, or thought it had been a dream. Logan felt slight panic at the thought that he might change his mind. He tried not to panic, and waited for Scott to fully wake up. He wasn’t going to let him go unless he really had to. As soon as he thought that, a smile began spreading on Scott’s face. Logan was concerningly into him and would definitely need to sleep with him forever. He was hardly complaining. “Oh. You won’t leave. I’m yours, so you won’t, right?” Scott sounded content even as he asked, but Logan had no problem reassuring him.
“Never, Scott. You can’t get rid of me, now. You’re mine. Promise.” He growled out the last part, and relished in Scott’s shiver. He resolved to let Scott wake slowly as he had a lot to process. A lot of things made sense to Logan, now. 200 years was nothing to wait for someone like Scott. He was a once in a lifetime kind of guy, even when your lifetime is much more than average. Scott, leader he is, had other plans for the morning.
“Okay,” He grinned. “Okay.” Scott leaned back down and kissed him firmly, melting Logan’s brain, and then cruelly left the bed in one swift motion.
Logan did not like this course of action. “Scott, come on-” Scott cut him off.
“Breakfast, then meetings, then training. You can sleep until the meeting with the team, if you want.” Logan was disgruntled at the reminder of Scott’s terrible steadfast nature, and grumbled as he got up. He predicted he would be keeping Scott in his line of sight for maybe a week straight. He was very serious about his cling-level. Thus, he had to get up and accompany Scott to breakfast, like a gentleman. He didn’t think he was ever a true gentleman, even when that was the way of things, in his youth. He’d always been a soldier, and had rarely been honest with himself. Here, he was still a fighter, but for something he believed in. To protect people he really cared about. He was part of something that wanted him back. He had someone who wanted him back. Admitting the wanting was the most truthful he’d been in a very long time, he thought. He smiled as Scott hastily dressed, clearly used to locker room nudity, and let himself admire the exposed skin. Scott paused, and he saw a flush begin to spread from his neck to his upper back. It seemed Scott was realizing this was not exactly a locker room scenario. He finished pulling on his polo, nerd, and slowly turned his head to look at Logan. Logan did not hide his hungry gaze, and relished in the blush it provoked from his mate. Scott finished dressing, looking very good in an incredibly normal outfit, the asshole. Logan stood and walked to him, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on his neck, smiling at the hitched breath it garnered. He then stepped away, smoothing away the furrow that grew between Scott’s brow with his thumb.
“I’ll come with you. I’ll be back, gotta look presentable for the debut.” He teased, dodging Scott’s smack as he exited. He pulled on a white t-shirt and jeans; he was the ‘gym’ teacher, there weren’t really high standards for him. He was also looking forward to torturing Scott now that he knew he was into men, into him. He’s been told his arms were enticing. Scott looking would be much more welcome than anyone who had previously. He wondered if he was really what Scott wanted, what he deserved, and faltered for a moment. He started back up because he did know his nature, a small amount. He was selfish in some things. This was one of them. He needed Scott, to keep going, to stay sane, to stay, period. Scott seemed happy enough to oblige, he recalled. He strode down the hall back to Scott’s room and saw him stepping out, closing the door behind him. He looked up when he heard Logan approach, and smiled. God. Logan smiled a small smile back and placed a hand on Scott’s lower back as they began to walk to the dining room. Logan stopped them before they actually entered.
“You sure, Scott?” Scott softened, and it felt like he knew exactly what Logan really meant. If he was sure about him. Scott nodded firmly, and leaned up to kiss Logan on the cheek, softer than he deserved.
“I’m sure.” Scott assured, leaning back into the hand supporting him. Logan wasn’t really nervous, he was too old for that, but he was aware of his image. Even if Scott didn’t know he deserved better, others would. Others would tell him so, maybe. Logan tried not to worry about it and focused on their entrance to the dining room. Students and teachers were divided as always, and mostly everyone was occupied with their own conversations, but some did notice them. He saw Marie's eyes go wide as she gave him a surprised smile and he nodded at her, giving a small smile back. She kept smiling, clearly happy, and went back to talking to Kitty. Jubilee gave him a quick exaggerated wink from over Rogue’s shoulder and quickly turned back to her loud argument with Bobby. He shook his head, amused despite himself.
They quickly grabbed some food and sat down with the other teachers. Two seats next to each other were left open for them, as always. Hm. As predicted, everyone stared at them without speaking for about a minute. Scott and Logan also said nothing. Hank, noble man he is, broke the stalemate.
“Finally. I was getting quite irritated with all that stoic longing,” Hank was in fact not a noble man and was instead an ass, but Logan could appreciate it was probably true. It also warmed him to imagine it being true on Scott’s end, so he grinned wide, showing fangs.
“Ultimate team bonding, Scott?” Jean teased. Logan also loved her for her humor. Ororo choked on a laugh as Scott scowled.
“Jean!” ‘Ro scolded her playfully. “I’m happy for you two.” She turned her gaze to Logan, looking even more amused. “How are you telling Charles you’re dating his son?” Logan winced slightly. Ororo paused. “You are dating, right?” Logan chose to focus on that question rather than how he would field Scott’s father figure reading his mind and finding quite impure thoughts about his pseudo-son.
“Yeah,” Logan affirmed proudly, snaking his arm around Scott’s waist. Scott blushed but didn’t attempt to stop him, thank god. It seemed he really was as all in as Logan was. That thought made Logan think a hundred happy, lovey, embarrassing thoughts. He would take those any day. Scott felt like such a miracle to Logan. He was all he needed, he made him better. He could never let him go. It was of course at this moment when Logan heard a clearing of a very familiar throat. He froze, watched Scott do the same, and then purposefully relaxed. He turned toward the man behind him.
“Hey, Professor. Late breakfast for you.” Logan was trying very hard to be very normal. Scott still looked very caught which was not helping at all. Charles smiled, looking between them.
“Do relax. I have the power to completely incapacitate you should you ever do something to harm my son. I have nothing to fear; especially not when you care for him so.” Logan gulped, and then grumbled. Uncool, Chuck. Charles smiled at him, perhaps having heard that thought, and made his leave after giving a very flush Scott an approving nod.
Logan turned back around to the amused faces of his friends and scowled. Scott placed a hand on his arm and smiled sheepishly at him.
“Sorry.” He seemed a bit embarrassed, and a bit like he was sorry to have inconvenienced Logan. Logan frowned. He glanced at his co-workers once more and moved to speak into Scott’s ear, not wanting to embarrass either of them further.
“It’s good you have someone looking out for you, baby. I don’t mind you being taken care of by more people than me. It’s okay.” Scott relaxed, but flushed harder still. Shit. Pet name. Well, he was all in. Might as well. He leaned back into his seat. Hank and Jean, who probably heard exactly what was said, looked extremely amused. Ororo, who he assumed knew everything always (it was a safe bet), was looking quite…proud. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you people have things to do?” He asked. Jean nodded, still looking pleased. She got up to bring her empty plate to the sink and start the many things smart people did. She was happy for him, he could tell. It almost made him smile but his reputation was taking enough of a hit. Jean would know, anyway.
Hank continued eating, smiling in a way that made it clear he was enjoying this. Logan let him and examined how he held his cutlery. Ever the fancy fellow, he held them much like Logan had learned to in his first life. When he first came here, sans memory, he had held them just the same. Some things stick with you. Hank was more outwardly beastly, but Logan knew out of the two of them, he was the animal. Everyone else tended to know it, too. He glanced at Scott and knew that he didn’t think of him that way, hadn’t since he met him. Scott respected Logan, always had, and viewed him as his own person. Viewed him as more than that, he knew now. He hoped this would always stick with him. All of them, all of this. They were the best of him. Scott was the best of them, in Logan’s opinion. He ate quickly so he could continue staring at Scott and thinking embarrassing, loving thoughts. This was really going to be a problem; he couldn’t bring himself to care.