I do not own.  I have no money.
The importance of these statements. I don't own X-men, marvel does see
. If I owned them I would be rich, see . If I was rich, I wouldn't
be writing fan fiction, see , because I would buy the X-men, see .
Author's Note: My artist's muse went AWOL, so I stole a writing muse.
Sorry if it was yours. That also gives me a reason to suck at writing. Ha
ha! I would love reviews! Even flames, but if you flame me please be
specific. How else will I learn from my mistakes? Constructive critism is
The muted picture drove the television's image in and out of reception,
strewing eerie light on the faux white walls of the hotel room. Logan
paced along the length of the double wide bed, dropping belongings into the
leather duffel lying open on the mattress. At the moment, the only audible
sound, was the distinct warbling of German hymns emanating from depths
within the bathroom. Logan grunted, stepping over the comforter strewn on
the ground from the night before. The remainder of the team were still lie
their beds, leisurely allowing themselves the luxury to sleep in after
their mission. They had all been to tired, too exhausted, to consider
celebrating upon their return last night. Instead they turned to the
comfort of warm beds and room service to comfort their aches. That
indelibly meant that later they would have a night on the town. An evening
of reckless fun in the midst of a life that would drive a hero to the brink
of death, sometimes never returning. This was the unwritten tradition in
the X-men books, sparing a few moments to revel in life and friendship when
they found the time to do so.
Logan took one last survey of the room, grunting to himself satisfactorily.
He had managed to pack everything that he could think that he'd want into
the overnighter. Not that he needed much, he was fine with the clothes off
his back. No, he was packing for someone else. someone that he knew would
want mementos, reminders of the family left behind. He headed into the
narrow corridor that served as the entrance to the room, sliding the door
back to the closet. His leather jacket hung unceremoniously on the twisted
wire hanger. Not that he had been the one that had hung it up either, he
grinned. Last night he had been drug back to the hotel, his healing factor
too preoccupied at the moment to grant him consciousness. His attention
was distracted from his thoughts by the noises coming from the bathroom
door behind him. He slid the worn jacket on, fishing a cigar out the
pocket and used a single unsheathed claw to slice the tip off. He slid the
lighter out from another pocket. He used his a fist to knock on the door.
The scrambling noises that followed suggested that Kurt was hurrying to
finish up. Logan leaned against the wall and savored the smell for a
"Ja, Mien Fruend, a moment more. I doubt that you would want me to leave
this blue fuzz in here for when you-"
"It's alright, Elf." Logan interrupted. "I'm heading out. Have yourself
a good time tonight."
The silence that followed prompted Logan to make his move, he stepped out
of the hall to grab the bag and slung it over his shoulder. His heavy
boots thudded across the carpet and he opened the hotel room door, stepping
out and closing it behind him.
Kurt opened the bathroom door, his damp locks of hair matted to his
"But Logan, I -"
The faint click of the lock sliding back, was his only answer. He glanced
around the empty room. He made his way out of the bathroom, water dripping
from his toweled form. On the dresser he saw a pink carbon copy of a
receipt, noting that the reservation for their room had been extended for
another week. He also noticed that it had been charged for two occupants.
Obviously this was Logan's way of indicating that he wanted Kurt to stay
behind when the other's returned to the X-mansion the next day. He
shrugged to himself; Logan had said nothing of these plans previously.
Still, Kurt knew better than to worry about these questions. Not that Logan
was the type to answer questions.