Sometimes, the nightmares weren't worth it. Weren't worth the slow and incremental trek to remembering who he was and where he'd come from. Who he had been before he'd volunteered to be cut open and have metal welded to his bones--if Stryker had been telling the truth, that is. If Logan had actually volunteered, signed his name on the line, and jumped into the tank with both feet, eyes open. If someone hadn't been holding the pen for him or, worse, there had been no pen, just Stryker in front of some sort of committee saying that yes, Logan had graciously volunteered to this, while all along, Logan had been unconscious in the underground laboratory.
To be perfectly honestly, even if he had willingly volunteered to become a human lab rat, Logan doubted he'd had all the information. Which was why he had to know who he'd had been. What sort of man he had been before ... before the half coherent dreams of officers sipping champagne and drilling into him, cutting along the neatly drawn lines on his skin. Before he'd awaken and killed, running naked through the lab with blood running from his hands, down his arms. Covering him.
He wanted to know. Was driven to know. But on nights like this, when he couldn't sleep because of the nightmares flashing through his mind, Logan seriously questioned the necessity of finding out who he was. He'd thought the nightmares were bad before going to Alkali Lake; now, they were downright terrifying.
Sleeplessness was familiar. An old friend that had kept Logan company on many nights during the past fifteen years. Now, though, it was different. He used to be alone. When he woke, there was no one else to bother him. Now, Logan stepped out of his room, and there were people. Kids who couldn't sleep and kids who didn't sleep and kids who were asleep but still made noise.
And a kid who sobbed silently in his room, his eyes screwed tightly because if he opened them, he could blow the whole roof off and kill them all.
Logan sighed and rubbed his eyes. Thinking about Summers was not what he needed to be doing right now. He had his own grief to deal with. He'd loved her too.
Okay, maybe not loved. Not like the kid had. Summers loved her in a deep, committed, forever way that Logan had only begun to think about when he'd come back. Forever had never meant much to Logan, but then, no one had ever made his heart skip like Jean had.
Well. Maybe not no one. But he'd never felt the way he had in recent months before he'd come in contact with the X-Men crew. He'd been alone, and content to stay alone.
Now, suddenly, he had roots. A place to go to when things outside got rough. People who cared about him, even depended on him. He was stuck, bound to the crew by a common gift, a common thread, and now, a common grief.
Christ, he needed a beer.
He left his room and walked through the quiet halls. It was never quiet here, and that bothered him. No one who was as young as the children behind these doors should have memories that made them sleep so fitfully.
Even though he knew very well there was no beer in the refrigerator, Logan headed down to the kitchen anyway. Maybe there was something to eat before he headed out to town to get something. After all, he wasn't babysitting tonight. In fact, he doubted they'd ever leave him alone with the kids again, even if it hadn't been his fault.
As per his luck, the kitchen was occupied. It was who was occupying it that surprised him.
"Summers?" Logan said in surprise.
The kid looked up, head lolling back a little too far, as if it were too heavy for him. "L'gan. Wanna drink?" He held up the bottle of whiskey he was drinking.
Frowning, he crossed the room and took the bottle. "Do you really think this is the place? I thought this was a school." He took a swallow directly from the bottle.
"Don' care. Don' fucking care." He took the bottle back and took a swig. "Couldn't stay in my room. It still smells like her." Summers sniffed and swiped sloppily at his nose. "God, I miss her." Then he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank, throat working as he swallowed.
"I do too," Logan said after a moment, voice quiet.
Summers snorted and put the bottle down. "I'm glad that you miss my girlfriend," he slurred sarcastically. "It makes me feel sooo good." He rose slightly from his stool, swaying dangerously such a way that made every muscle in Logan's legs tense, ready to spring and catch him should he fall.
The kid managed to stay upright, though. He pulled a small, black box from his pocket and set it on the table.
"Oh, shit." Logan looked from the box to Summers. "What ..."
"She didn't know." He laughed slightly. "Do you know how hard it is keeping something like this from a telepath?" He continued laughing until he sounded like he was sobbing.
"Scott," Logan started, unsure of what to say.
It was demand, not a request, and, to his surprise, Logan found himself obeying. He moved so he was leaning on the counter and picked up the box.
The ring was beautiful. Thin, gold band, three medium sized diamonds surrounded by clusters of rubies. Jean would have loved it; Logan could practically see it on her finger. It wasn't ostentatious or showy. Neither Jean or Scott were the flashy type. Their love had been deep and mutual, and the ring reflected that. Quiet, refined, and oh so beautiful.
"How is it?" Scott asked, a trifle wistfully.
Logan cleared his throat and shrugged. "It's all right."
Scott nodded, his chin trembling. "I have problem with depth on some things. I basically know the shape, and how it's designed, but not completely. Can't really see it." He was silent a moment. "She liked rubies. Ironically. Always told me that they were the most beautiful jewel. I had to find the right sales girl to help me. The first few places I went ... they kept bringing out these awful, gaudy things, saying that it's what they would have wanted. Only diamonds, I think. I can't tell them apart, they all look red to me." He sniffed and took a swig of whiskey. "Finally, I found this girl. Quiet, shy. Reserved. Brand new, and brand new in love with someone. I asked her ... told her about Jean. Told her about the rubies. And she started pulling out things and then suddenly she gasped and told me to wait. Ran into the back, and when she came out, she had that. Said it was her favourite, except she'd rather it with amethysts. Said they were rubies. I brought Storm with me the second time. To make sure. She told me they were rubies and it was beautiful. She cried."
He closed the box, unable to look at the ring anymore. Even though Jean had never touched it, never even seen it, her presence around it was so tangible, it hurt to breathe. And if it hurt him, it had to be ten times worse for the kid.
"I'm sure," Logan started after a moment, feeling incredibly stupid, "I'm sure Jean knew. In her heart. That you ... Fuck it." He snatched the bottle from Scott and drank deeply.
The laughter started again, only this time, it didn't sound anything like laughter. Scott was crying again. Hard. "She knew. She had to have known. That's why she left the plane. That's why ..."
Ah, fuck. That's not what he'd meant. "Scott," he tried. "No. I mean, Jean knew how much you loved her, and ..."
"You don't know anything!" Summers practically screamed, shooting up from his chair. "She did know how much I loved her, and that's what killed her. She couldn't live with me. She ... You said she made a choice. Her choice wasn't me, Logan. The choice was never between me and you. It was a choice between the shackles I bound her with and freedom."
Logan frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Summers shook his head, sobbing freely now. "I tried to love her like I should. For five years I loved her more than any living being on earth. Loved her more than life. More than anything. And then, one day, I didn't. Not the same, and she knew. I tried to hide it from her, but she … I couldn't." Slowly, as if the life was going out of him, Summers sank to the floor, face hid behind his hands. "I came here young. And I didn't know. And then you came, and suddenly everything was different. I was different. I tried to ignore it and love Jean like I should, but I couldn't. Not the same. And she found out. I …"
His head whirled slightly as what the kid was saying became clear. "Scott … what?"
"Didn't even realize what I wanted," he was saying. "I didn't know. It was new. Unfamiliar. I'd never wanted a man. And you … liked her, and I thought I was jealous. Then the dreams started."
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, God damn fuck! Not here, not now, and Logan did not ever need to hear this. To know this.
There were footsteps in the hall. Logan tensed and turned, moving into a protective stance in front of Summers.
The footsteps hesitated a moment. Straining his ears, Logan tried to get a sense of who was out there. He sniffed.
Marie. He could smell her perfume. She wasn't the worst person to find them, but Logan didn't want anyone to see Summers in this state.
He turned quickly and picked the kid up.
"Shut up, kid," Logan growled. He left the kitchen, Summers slung over his shoulder.
The mansion was like a maze, five ways to get everywhere in the building. The kid wasn't exactly heavy, but by the time Logan made it up to the correct floor, he was tired of the burden. He set Summers down.
"Why? Why did you do that?" Summers asked, swaying on his feet.
"Do you really want your students seeing you like this? You're their fearless leader, after all; it's not considered good form."
"Fuck good form. Fuck … everything." He looked around him, frowning. "Where's my whiskey?"
Oops. "Still in the kitchen. But you've had enough for one night. Go to bed. Sleep it off."
His face crumpled. "I can't. I can't go back in there. She's too … everything there reminds me of her, and it all reminds me of how I failed her."
Logan could hear people stirring behind the closed doors. Sighing in defeat, he grabbed Summers by the arm and dragged him down the hall to Logan's own room. He kicked open the door and practically threw the kid in.
Still unsteady on his feet, Summers stumbled and weaved. He managed to make it to the bed before he collapsed, hiding his face in the covers.
"Jesus Christ," Logan said. He rubbed his face with both hands, wishing there was something to fight or claw or grab right now. Something he could do. There was nothing he could do for Summers right now. Nothing.
But, he had to try. For Jean's sake. Because despite what he'd put together from Scott's confessions, he didn't think Jean had done anything but chosen to save them. To sacrifice herself for her love and her team.
"Look," he said hesitantly. "You need to pull yourself together, kid. What happened … it wasn't because of you. She chose …"
"She chose to die!" Summers shouted, rising to his knees.
"No! She chose to save us. To save you, Scott. You've spent your life sacrificing for her, and now she decided to do the same."
He shook his head. "No. Don't you get it? Don't you see …"
"You had a crush on me, I get it," Logan interrupted. "You met me and realized that you were attracted to me. Big fucking deal."
"I should have …"
"What? Dumped her because you had a feelings for another person? Okay, maybe. If they were strong enough that you thought you might be gay, maybe. But maybe not. Maybe it was just a crush. You don't ruin a five year relationship because of a crush. Jean knew that. She told me that she wouldn't choose me because she wanted to marry the good guy. You."
Summers shook his head, tears leaking from under his glasses and down his face. "I never told her how I felt. I just … when I realized what I was feeling, I was so angry. And I tried to hide it, but she knew." He shook his head, chin trembling harder. "Do you have any idea how that made her feel? The look on her face when she woke me from a dream about you? It was like she didn't know me. Worse, she looked like she failed me. And I begged her not to leave me. Told her … I loved her and couldn't live without her. So she stayed." His voice cracked and he started crying harder. "She stayed in a relationship where she didn't feel like she was loved. And I did love her. But I didn't love her enough. I didn't love her well. So she left me." Shaking hard, Summers doubled over.
Logan closed his eyes. He couldn't do this. You could never reason with madmen or drunks. And Scott Summers was definitely one of those.
So, instead of answering, Logan stalked to the bed and pulled the covers down. "Sleep," he said roughly, pushing Summers.
He rolled onto his back, frowning. "Wha?"
"I said sleep. Stop crying, stop thinking. Stop talking. Sleep. I don't want to hear another word." He yanked the covers up to the kid's chin and crossed his arms over his face, glaring down menacingly.
Logan bent over, brining his face mere inches from Summer's. "Shut. The fuck. Up."
Summers swallowed hard and fell silent. Logan couldn't tell if his eyes were closed, but, after a few minutes, the kid's breathing grew regular and easy.
Once it was clear Summers was asleep, Logan pulled away and walked across the room. He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or beat the crap out of someone.
Scott Summers was attracted to him. Okay, he hadn't seen that one coming. And he didn't know what to do with the information. It wasn't that he was disgusted or anything, far from it. But there were complications. Logan didn't fuck nice men. Good guys. Which, considering his conversation with Jean, was pretty funny. She rejected him because he was dangerous and exciting, and Logan had dismissed Summers out of hand because he was just the opposite. The attraction was there, and the image of Summers and his mouth had kept Logan company many nights during his long trek through Canada. But thought of acting on those fantasies never crossed his mind, for many reasons.
A. Scott Summers was straight. B. He was practically a fucking Boy Scout. C. The smell of his sweat made Logan think of thoughts he'd never associated with men before, and they didn't have anything to do with sex. And most of all, D. He called himself Cyclops, for Christ's sake.
There were so many reasons not to get involved with the leader of the X-Men, including that he was the leader of a group called the X-Men. Logan had enough to worry about in his life; he didn't need a kid like Summers. So he'd chosen to flirt with the one he thought he could get into his bed. And maybe more, because, in the end, his intentions to Jean hadn't been entirely dishonourable. He'd been genuinely attracted to her, and wanted to do right.
And Summers … A passing interest. That was all. Logan preferred his men strong and faceless. Men were for blow jobs in the dimness of run-down bars, or the occasional fuck in seedy motels. They weren't…
They weren't Scott Summers. Towards whom Logan's feelings weren't entirely dishonourable. Especially not since Jean died and Scott had fallen, broken, into his arms. And Logan had realized … and had made a silent promise to Jean to take care of him.
Which was the biggest reason he was still here. Yes, he was pretty much committed to the X-men now, with the oncoming war and everything. There probably were no answers left about his past, but there were plenty of problems coming up in the future. And he was a mutant; their problems were his problems. He couldn't leave.
But that wasn't why he stayed. Not really. He stayed because Jean was gone, and he was surrounded by memories of her. And he stayed because he couldn't let Scott become just a memory too.
He'd been keeping an eye on Summers while he dealt with his own grief. And Summers had seemed ... okay. Not great. Not happy. Very depressed. But functional.
And then this. This rush of guilt and longing and ... and whatever it was. Logan hadn't been expecting it, not like this. Guilt over leaving Jean, or of not doing enough, yes. Thinking that he was somehow responsible for her choice? Never.
Logan rubbed his eyes viciously, trying to think. What the hell was he supposed to do. Truthfully, he wasn't all that surprised by the admission. A part of him had known, probably the part that couldn't let him ignore his own attraction. He was fine with it. And he suspected that Jean had been at the very least understanding. Scott was, for all intents and purposes, young, and he seemed inexperienced. His life was the school and the X-Men, and Logan didn't get the sense he'd been in a lot of relationships or had a chance to explore his sexuality. Logan's appearance in his life had probably upset the balance of his perfectly ordered world.
Jean wasn't a weak woman. Maybe she wasn't the most confident about her powers, but Logan refused to believe she would allow herself to be trapped in a relationship where she didn't feel like she was loved. Not with Logan offering her everything he had. If anything, Jean was guilty of complacency. Of not saying anything to Summers either to encourage him to find out what the feelings meant or to get over them.
Unless she couldn't handle them herself. Summers certainly didn't seem to be able to. Made Logan wonder how the kid felt about homosexuality to begin with. To Logan, it wasn't exactly a way of life, but it wasn't unfamiliar to him. Sometimes, men were all he had. He kept them at a distance and didn't get as involved with them as women, but it wasn't a big deal.
He didn't know what to do. Thinking things through wasn't one of his strong points. He'd rather be acting, doing something.
Unfortunately, he could only see three options: leave, fuck the kid, or talk to him. As attractive as the first two were, he didn't think they'd help the situation.
Which left talking …
Unless he just fucked Summers, and then left.
Logan was beginning to get a headache.
Okay. That was enough thinking. He hesitated only a moment before climbing into the bed. It was his bed, after all. He wasn't going to be kicked out just because some drunk kid couldn't get to sleep in his own room.
So, he lay on his back, hands interlaced behind his head, gazing at the ceiling. He didn't think he'd be getting too much sleep tonight. He was too aware of the man snoring softly next to him. Of his scent, his skin, his warmth … of everything.
So focused on Scott, Logan didn't notice the shadows creep around him as he slipped off into sleep.
A loud groan startled Logan out of sleep. He tensed, hands clenching slowly in preparation of unleashing his claws as he listened to the sounds around him.
The bed shifted, and he heard someone whimpering.
Logan relaxed. This was one of the reasons he didn't let people sleep in his bed. He was more of a "kill first, ask questions later," guy; hence the whole skewering of Marie. Plus, when he wasn't attacking every noise that woke him, he was having nightmares that made him dangerous to anyone and anything around him.
But then, he hadn't had any nightmares after he'd gotten the kid back to his room. In fact, Logan's sleep had been blissfully dreamless, something that hadn't happened for a long time. Interesting.
"Ah, man," Summers whispered. He coughed weakly.
"If you throw up in my bed, I'll remove your stomach and make sure it never happens again," Logan said without opening his eyes.
The only response was a groan. The mattress dipped and then shifted as Summers got out of bed. Logan could hear him walking across the room. A moment later, there was the sound of retching and coughing from the bathroom.
He opened his eyes and looked in the direction of the bathroom, but the door was almost closed.
The retching stopped and toilet flushed. Summers groaned again, then the water turned on. It ran a few minutes before shutting off and Summers emerged from the bathroom, holding his temples and looking miserable.
"Why did you let me do that?" he asked, holding his head as he leaned against the threshold.
Logan sat up and raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall you asking my permission, bub. Besides, you were already halfway into the bottle when I came down. I just helped you crawl the rest of the way in."
"And for that, I truly thank you." He pressed both hands into his temples. "Oh, God, why did I do that?"
"You tell me."
Summers shook his head. "You know, I don't even remember buying the bottle, it's so old. I hid it when I was a teenager, and then never got around to drinking it. But last night ... I just needed it." He sighed. "Just needed to forget."
"Well, the next time you just need to forget, go somewhere else. This is a school."
"You're telling me?" he asked wryly.
Logan smiled slightly. "Yeah, well. I don't care. In fact, I wouldn't care if you'd gotten drunk and ran naked through the halls, but I figured you might not like it."
Summers nodded. "You're right," he said. Then, in a soft voice, "Look, uh, about last night. Thanks."
"And I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "Don't be."
Summers frowned. "Come on. I was a mess, and you're the last person who wanted to deal with that."
"I would think it's obvious. You're … you're not the type."
Logan thought about it a moment and then shrugged. "If not me, then who?"
With a sigh, Summers turned his head so it was pressed into the wall. "No one. That's the point. That's what being a leader is about. Not … not falling apart like that. And not burdening your team members with your weaknesses."
Too many places to begin and before Logan could even said anything, he had to fight back the urge to grab Summers and shake him hard.
"First of all," he said when he could do it without growling too much, "I'm not a member of your team. Second, you are so full of self-indulgent bullshit."
Scott's head snapped up. "What?"
Loan leaned forward. "You're full of shit. Your team members already know you're a wreck. Hiding in your room to cry isn't fooling any of them. And look where your strategy got you, anyway. You let it build up until you lost it completely. Some leader," he snorted.
"It's not like that! I was doing fine coping with losing Jean. Yes, I miss her, and it feels like my soul's been ripped in two, but I was dealing with it."
"That's what you call last night? Dealing with it?"
"No!" Summers' voice was rising dangerously in pitch, and Logan could almost smell the hysteria. "No, last night was something else. Last night was … I'd never put it together. Never got that my fucking feelings that came out of nowhere had to have been why she … why she thought … why she did …"
"Wanna finish the sentence sometime soon, Cyke?"
He deflated, sagging against the wall. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand."
Logan climbed out of bed and walked slowly to Summers. "Let's see how much I do understand. You are a straight man with a girlfriend who suddenly found out you are attracted to a man. Me. Jean found out, but didn't do or say anything about it. You, not being able to deal with feelings for me, decided that Jean couldn't either, but stayed out of twisted loyalty. And then, when the opportunity came to leave the relationship to be with me, not only did she not take it, but decided that allowing herself to be killed would better." Logan stopped about an inch away from Summers and leaned in. "What part don't I understand?"
Summers swallowed hard. He was breathing fast and pressing against the wall, as if trying to put more space between the two of them.
Logan wasn't having it. He kept his distance, breathing in Summers, his legs brushing against Summers' thighs.
"I don't know," Summers finally answered, voice hoarse. "You seem to have all the facts."
"But they don't make sense."
"I wouldn't expect you to understand." Then he swallowed again. "You going to hit me?"
"For … for, you know."
"No, I don't. Explain it for me."
Scott took a deep breath. "For being attracted to you. For wanting you."
Slowly, still leaning into him, Logan forced Scott's legs apart and slid his between them so his thigh was pressed against Scott's crotch. "I'm not the one who has a problem with it, bub."
It took a moment, but Scott's face went as scarlet as his the ruby quartz in his glasses. He opened and closed his mouth several time, saying nothing.
Just to see what would happen--and because he was beginning to get a little turned on being this close to an object of his desire--Logan gently thrust into Scott.
"Oh, God," Scott groaned, head knocking against the wall with a loud thump.
Logan could feel him hardening and smiled. He did it again.
Scott's hand's clamped on his shoulders and, ineffectually, he pushed. "Please, stop," he gasped, moving his hips ever so slightly into Logan's.
"Give me a good reason."
He shook his head. "Not good enough." Leaning forward, he sucked on Summers' neck until there was a bright pink mark on it. "In fact, that's probably the worst reason there is."
Summers' shook his head. "No, I mean … Not me. Not for me, this isn't right. I'm … I'm a mutant, and …"
"And I'm not?"
"God dammit, Logan. This is not who I am. Stop it."
He did, pulling his head away from the delicious skin on Summers' neck and relieving the pressure on his cock. Summers had that tone in his voice that you just didn't fuck with because, if you did, that line was crossed. And Logan wouldn't cross that line, ever.
But he didn't leave the kid's personal space, instead staying close enough he could see his distorted image on Summers' glasses.
Scott took a deep breath and exhales slowly. "Look, it's … Do you really like men?"
Huh. Interesting phrase of question. He'd never thought much about how he felt towards men; he just enjoyed the sex. "I like fucking 'em, yeah. On occasion. Don't make a habit out of it, though, but I never turn an offer down."
"Then what about Jean? I thought you wanted her."
"I did. That didn't stop me from wanting you."
"So you're bi?"
"Don't much rely on labels. Got enough on my plate with 'mutant.' But, basically, I've learned never to turn down food, shelter, or sex, no matter who's offering." He made a face. "Within reason."
"And you want me."
Summers' frown deepened. "Then why didn't you … ever do anything?"
Logan shrugged. "I had my reasons."
He suppressed the 'slam Scott against the wall in sheer frustration' impulse and instead answered, " I think you're an uptight dickwad with a superiority complex. I think you're too impressed by your powers and too hyped up on your own propaganda on about the X-Men. I think you're an ass. I think you're annoying. And most of all you are, as Jean herself said, a 'good guy.' And I don't fuck good guys."
"Why not?" He seemed genuinely intrigued.
"Too complicated," Logan replied. He pulled away from Summers and went into the bathroom, leaving the door open.
He went straight for the sink and turned the water on. As he bent over to wash his face, he heard Summers' tentative footsteps enter the room.
"What?" he asked, washing the remnants of sleep from his eyes.
"Why is it too complicated?"
"Good guys have too many hang-ups. And you have a ton. I don't need to get involved with a self-loathing, uptight, hero-type." He rinsed out his mouth and then grabbed his toothbrush.
"I'm not self-loathing."
Logan spit and looked at Scott in the mirror. "Then what was last night about?"
His cheeks colored. "It was ... a way to ... to deal with what was going on."
"You call that dealing?"
"No," he admitted softly. "I don't." Summers bit his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth. "Do you ... really think I've got it all wrong?"
"Yes. Not only is your theory stupid, it makes Jean's sacrifice less noble. And I'd think you of all people would want it to stay noble."
Scott rubbed his forehead. "I'm just … the professor's right. About Jean and her powers. I knew her for so long, and she'd always been unsure. She was almost ... frightened of her abilities, torn between wanting to become more powerful, and scared of what she might become." He frowned, "She'd been having dreams ever since Liberty Island. Nightmares. And I could see how much her powers had grown."
Logan nodded and turned so he was leaning against the sink. "I noticed that too. She was … strong."
"But scared," he said, nodding. "I guess I thought … I thought that if she was so unsure about her powers, she might be unsure about herself in general. And us. She didn't want to hurt me, and I felt so guilty about wanting you."
"But death isn't a convenient way out. I would have been." Logan shook his head. "If she'd really wanted out of your relationship, she would have used me. Maybe not intentionally, but she would have."
"Even if it killed me?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I think you give yourself far less credit than she and I do. You would have been fine. Eventually."
He sighed. "I guess."
"How did she find out? About the way you felt?"
The roses were back in full force on his cheeks, and Scott's eyes were firmly fastened on the floor. "Uh … dream. Pretty much the same way I figured it out. I was having a dream and, uh, she thought it was a nightmare. So she touched me and …" He looked up, a self-deprecating smile on his face as he shrugged. "She looked surprised and … well, I thought it was disgusted, but I really can't see Jean being like that. Just surprised."
"Did she say anything?"
"Just blushed and said she was sorry. Asked if I wanted to talk. I said no. We left it at that."
"It's been my experience that if someone is really disgusted by the idea their boyfriend is wanting about other guys, the last place they want to be is in bed with them. Unless they think they can reform them, in which case, they want to talk. A lot." He shrugged. "Ever think that she didn't mind? Or that she was waiting for you to make a decision about your sexuality and your part in your relationship? And when you didn't, she figured that it was just a crush and not important in the grand scheme of things?"
"I didn't really want to think about. I wanted to forget about it. But I couldn't. I got guiltier and more ... upset, until finally she brought it up."
"And that's when you begged her to stay with you."
Summers nodded. "I loved her so much, I couldn't lose her over some dreams. But, at the same time, I hated myself for betraying her."
"You didn't. They were dreams, and she knew that. Feelings you were unfamiliar with, and she knew that too."
He rubbed his temples. "I felt like by wanting you, it made my feelings for her less."
"It didn't." He started walking towards Scott slowly. "What bothers you more: that I'm a man, or that I'm me?"
Summers looked up, flinching ever so slightly when he saw Logan moving in on him, but he held his ground. His chin set itself determinedly and said, "Well. You'd think I'd have better taste."
It was the best invitation he was going to get, even though he hadn't been consciously looking for one.
Logan reached out and grabbed Scott, pulling him roughly to him.
A small sound escaped Scott as their bodies connected, but Logan swallowed it as he captured the half-open mouth with his.
Logan plundered Scott's mouth, taking advantage of the already parted lips to slide his tongue in over teeth and gums, stroking against Scott's forcefully. He tasted sweet and strong and dizzying all at once as his hands curved around Logan's neck and held on tightly. Summers kissed Logan almost desperately, whimpering in his throat as he practically tried to crawl inside, tongues dueling and dancing, neither fighting for dominance, but neither willing to be submissive, either.
"Don't know," he whispered, rubbing his thumb over Scott's cheek. "You taste pretty good to me."
Scott groaned. "You didn't just say that."
He grinned and started walking them backwards into the bedroom. "Couldn't resist." He took Scott's mouth again, kissing him deeply.
He moaned and kissed Logan back, allowing himself to be walked backwards to the bed. Their kisses became less intent on the mouth as Logan moved his way down the side of Scott's neck, licking and sucking on his neck, making Scott's fingers tighten in his hair. Scott was trying to score him with his teeth, biting along Logan's jaw line before going back to his lips. They were both breathing heavily, clinging onto each other as the back of Scott's knees hit the bed and he tumbled back.
Logan bent over Scott, not willing to let him get to far away.
Then, suddenly, Scott pulled his mouth away and wrapped his arms tightly around Logan's neck. He tugged Logan down on top of him and buried his face in the crook of Logan's neck. His body began shaking slightly, quiet sobs muffled by Logan's skin.
He sighed and shifted so he could put his arms around Scott. He hadn't meant for anything to happen, really; he'd just wanted to kiss Scott. He knew Scott wasn't ready for anything more. He was still grieving, and Logan wasn't really equipped to deal with sorrow. The only comfort he could offer was physical, but that's not what the kid needed. Not in the end. He needed ...
Well. Logan wasn't sure what he needed. He was completely out of his depth. He only knew two things for sure. One, he was the only person who could understand what Scott was going through, because Logan was the only one who'd loved Jean the way he did. And, two, what had started between them wasn't going to go away. Even if Logan ran. Even if he denied it. Scott was beneath his skin and he wasn't going anywhere.
After all, Scott Summers was a good guy, and the problem with guys like him was, once you had one, you didn't want to let him go. Jean had known this, and she'd turned down passion and danger with only a little regret. The choice had never been between Scott and Logan, which was why she'd asked him not to make her do it. Not to turn what they had into something it could never be. Because Jean's struggle wasn't about love and never had been. Her struggle had been internal, between who she was and who she could be. And her choice had been to embrace who she could be, leaving Scott behind.
And now Logan had a choice. Before, he'd left Jean to find out who he had been. If he left Scott, made the same decision, he would find nothing. If he stayed, Logan had a new beginning and another chance.
He sighed. "You're an uptight, arrogant, dickwad," he whispered into Scott's hair.
Scott laughed shakily and clung to him tighter. "And you kissed me why?" He pulled his face from Logan's neck and looked up with him.
"Because," Logan answered after a moment. "Your ass looks good in your uniform." This time, his kiss was almost gentle.
Scott arched against him, tears wetting Logan's skin. "Is that all?" he whispered.
"No." Logan kissed his forehead, and then lips again. "No. I kissed you because ... you're a good guy."
Logan knew what good girls did with a guy like him. It was time to see what a good guy would do.