Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel. I intend neither harm nor profit.
Notes: Written for Lorelei, my first and best online friend and partner in Kurt/Logan crime.

by Rex Luscus

Logan suspected he knew Kurt better than he knew just about anyone else alive. However, it wasn't until after the first time they slept together that he learned about an additional thing they had in common.

Shaving for Logan had always been problematic. He did it at least two if not three times a day, and still his chin felt like a Brillo pad by nightfall. He no longer bothered with the sides of his jaw, since the mutton chops grew back within five minutes if he tried to shave them off. He didn't need to worry about razor burn, but otherwise, he doubted there was another man on God's green earth who was so vexed by the issue of shaving.

Climbing groggily out of bed following his first mind-blowing night with Kurt, scratching his chest through his grubby undershirt and adjusting his twisted shorts as he padded into the bathroom, Logan resolved to face any morning-after awkwardness with his usual defense of shrugging indifference. He was surprised, therefore, to find his access to the sink blocked by an odd spectacle.

"What the flamin' hell are you doin', Elf?" he asked, all worries about potential awkwardness forgotten. Kurt was leaning over the sink with his face very close to the mirror, taking a large pair of scissors to his face with all the sustained, meditative precision of a bonsai artist.

"I'm shaving," Kurt replied, voice slightly distorted by the grimace he was holding his face in to give the scissors better access.

"I've got a razor..." Logan gestured at the medicine cabinet.

"No, you see--" Kurt set the scissors down and turned to him. "There's an extra problem in it for me. I have fur, and then I have a beard. If I use a razor, I shave the fur off as well, which leaves a funny bare patch on the lower half of my face that looks ridiculous. All I can do is trim the beard so it's even with my fur, you see."

Logan reached out and took Kurt's chin. He turned the delicate, sharp-featured face from one side to the other, examining the odd bits of stubble that stood out from the smooth pelt of fine peach-fuzz fur. "Huh," he said. "Huh."

Kurt grinned, wicked canines glinting. "I'm not verr├╝ckt, after all--sorry to disappoint you."

Logan rubbed his own chin in sympathy. "That's a damn pain in the ass," he observed. "I think I'd go crazy if I had to do that every day."

"We all have our crosses to bear," said Kurt sagely, with a glint of humor in his golden eyes.

"Better you than me," said Logan, and took up the can of shaving cream by the tap, preparing to lather up his own face for shaving attempt of the day number one.

Kurt watched him work with a look of open envy. "Ah, if only I could do it that way," he said wistfully as Logan swept the razor down one cheek, baring a swath of neatly depilated skin. "So satisfying, to simply slather on the cream and whisk it away with one stroke--such panache! Such freedom!"

Logan turned to him with a single quirked brow. He handed Kurt the razor. "Go ahead," he said, "be my guest."

Kurt's eyes lit up.

He'd barely finished one side of Logan's face, however, before they were kissing hungrily, grinding morning erections together, skin and fur chafing between layers of sleep-warmed cotton. "Don't worry," Logan murmured breathlessly. "There'll be plenty more opportunities."

"So long as I am here, you shall never touch another razor again," Kurt replied.

For neither the first time nor the last, Logan marveled at how perfectly they fit together.