Chapter Seven

The boys are all fast asleep by the time Logan and Harry drag them out of the restaurant and load them into Harry's old clunker of a car. Once all three little monsters are safely restrained—though Logan can't quite be sure if it's for their safety or everyone else's—Harry sighs and leans back against the door, rubbing his eyes. When he looks up, though, he's smiling that bright, gorgeous smile that makes Logan's heart start doing stupid jumping jacks and cartwheels in his chest.

"Thanks for today, Logan," he says. "The boys had fun—and so did I."

Logan is dithering. It's not a familiar feeling, and he doesn't particularly like it. What he does like is the fact that Harry's standing close enough that Logan can feel the heat of his body like a phantom hand.

"Sure," he says, and it comes out gruff and low, more like a growl than is probably polite. Logan clears his throat and tries again. "Any time. They haven't got anything on some of the kids at the school."

Harry laughs and shakes his head, glancing back at his children fondly. "Oh, just wait until they start having bouts of accidental magic," he says wryly. "Then they'll have you singing another tune, I'm afraid. Teddy had one last week and nearly got the neighborhood watch called when he transfigured a video game character out of a chair and it started stalking people."

They both fall silent for a moment, and Logan curses the fact that he feels nervous. He opens his mouth to say something, hopefully something witty and dry that will make Harry laugh, but what comes out instead is, "How's the Prof doing with that study? He and Jean make any progress yet?"

Harry glances over at him, eyebrow quirked. He's smiling a little bit, like he knows a secret that Logan doesn't, and he turns to face the mutant. "Really, Logan?" he drawls, accent twisting the words into something that sends shivers up and down Logan's spine. "Is that really what you want to ask me?"

Logan looks at those laughing green eyes, the easy grin, the challenging expression, and thinks, All right, fuck it, we're doing this. Rolling his eyes, he grabs Harry by the collar, hauls him up the several inches of difference that separate them, and kisses him.

They've been pretty much flirting for months now, so this kiss isn't a slow, easy, sweet introduction. It's hard and fast and a little dirty, because no matter what he feels for the other man, this is Logan and in no universe or reality is he ever a gentleman. Harry doesn't seem to mind, wrapping his arms around Logan's neck and pulling him even closer. His mouth is warm-hot and flavored with the popcorn they shared in the theater, and the dinner they shared afterwards, but there's something below those tastes, something mischievous and amused and caring, and Logan doesn't ever want to come up for air.

They have to eventually, though, and Harry grins up at Logan as though he just did something deserving of a medal. "About time," he offers, that wicked eyebrow rising again. "Thought I might have to strip and dance around naked to get your attention. Must be all that metal in your skull."

Logan laughs, and it feels good—as though he hasn't laughed this freely in a very long time, and he probably hasn't. "Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes and yanks Harry close again, tucking the wizard under his arm where he fits perfectly. "Make fun of the oblivious straight guy. That's real nice, wizard."

Harry just laughs at him and pulls him down into another kiss.

Somehow, it doesn't even matter that they're three paces away from a cheerfully blooming rhododendron. Logan's actually kind of thankful for the ugly thing.

A chorus of "Ewww!" sounds from inside the car, and Harry pulls back with a groan. Logan rolls his eyes again, twists them so that his back is to the window, and kisses Harry again.

Really, he could get used to this.