Property Rights

Rating: T for profanity, snarking

Characters: Scott, Logan, Jean, Darwin the Beagle

Summary: Scott and Logan are arguing. Jean's not getting involved.

All standard disclaimers apply. Don't own 'em, am making no money off 'em and I don't acknowledge X3. Many thanks to Rachelmartin64 for the beta.

Property Rights

By ridesandruns

"I'm not getting involved," Jean said, not looking up from her crossword puzzle. "You hear me? Just leave me out of it."

"I ain't believing this," Logan sputtered. "Your fucking boy toy tries to fucking kill me, and you're taking his side? Jesus Christ, Jeannie!"

"Oh, please," Scott said with a snort. "I did not try to kill you. I tried to deter you. And I succeeded, apparently. You didn't steal the bike, now did you?"

"Not getting involved," Jean said. "Sitting here with my dog, doing a puzzle, not getting involved."

"You got no fucking right – " Logan snarled at Scott.

"I should have done this sooner," Scott snapped. "I'm sick of you taking my things. Especially my bikes. You never fill up the gas tank, and you run them into the ground. Plus after you 'borrow' one of them, the seat always smells."

"Kid," said Logan, "if you're spending your spare time sniffin' bike seats, you got bigger problems than me takin' 'em for a ride."

"It's the Friday puzzle from the Times," Jean told her beagle, who was snuggled beside her on the couch, mouthing a chew toy. "They start off easy on Monday, then get more difficult as the week goes by. What's a four-letter word meaning 'Mongolian for red', Darwin? Yes, it's 'ulan.' Aren't you a smart little woof-woof."

"You getting' this, Jeannie? You hearin' that he had it all planned and didn't even fucking warn me?"

"I did so warn you," Scott said between gritted teeth. "At dinner. I said, 'Touch that bike and you're in for a shock.' What, was I too vague? Jean was there. She heard me, didn't you, Jean?"

"Shove it up your ass, cream puff," Logan retorted. "You don't even deserve a bike like that. You're just a prissy tightassed schoolteacher."

"Well, Logan," Scott said dryly, "not everyone can share your storied career path from cage fighter to dog nanny."

"You'll notice they don't really need us to participate in this conversation," Jean told the beagle. "They just expect us to be their snark groupies or something. Like we have nothing better to do. We're not getting involved."

"You fucking tried to electrocute me! Let's see if you're still Chuck's golden boy after he hears about this!"

"Is this the point where you yell, 'I'm telling'?" Scott inquired.

Jean sighed heavily, making a great show of patience as she put down her pen and looked up at last.

"Scott, did you try to murder Logan?"

"Of course not," Scott said indignantly.

"Did you try to electrocute Logan?"

"Not exactly," he hedged.

"Ha! You see? I told you!" Logan interrupted.

"You know, you really need to preface that sentence with 'Nyah, nyah, nyah nyah-nyah,' for better effect," Scott said irritably. "I did not try to electrocute Logan," he told Jean with dignity. "I merely installed a special anti-theft component on my new motorcycle."

"And?" she said.

"And . . . this special anti-theft component happens to react to metal. So someone with a lot of dental work and maybe a lot of piercings might get a little shock, like a big static electricity spark. And someone with a metal skeleton would get a bigger shock."

"A bigger shock?" Logan cried. "It fucking threw me across the fucking garage! It fried my fucking ass! Look at me!"

"You do look a little . . . singed," Jean said. "And your hair is standing up."

"That's not new, hon," Scott put in. "The stench is, though."

"Fuck you, cupcake," Logan snapped.

"Logan, is this Scott's new bike? The Harley A-Rod or something?"

"It's not really a bike, Jean," Scott corrected. "It's a Harley VRSCA V-Rod with a 115 hp Revolution V-twin engine. It's really far above a bike. It's to motorcycles what the Blackbird is to planes. It's not a bike, it's a sophisticated driving machine."

"Sophisticated driving machine?" Logan said. "Jeannie, I'm tell you, after hearing that, do you really need any more reasons to dump this dick?"

"I knew I shouldn't have gotten involved," Jean said with a sigh.

"That's what I keep telling you, darlin'," Logan said. "You shouldn't be involved with him. You can do better."

"I'm not getting involved," Jean said, going back to her puzzle. "Except to say this: Scott, stop booby-trapping your toys. Logan, stop stealing Scott's things."

"Lemme get his straight," Logan said. "Captain Candyass damn near kills me, and I'm the bad guy?"

"No," Scott clarified. "You're the stupid guy. The disrespectful guy. The arrogant, hairy and obnoxious guy. I'd go on, but I need to open a window and air out the room, because you're also the reeks-of-burned-hair guy."

"Are you hearing this, Jeannie?" Logan demanded. "He fucking tries to kill me, and he's not even sorry. Look at the mutt," he said, jabbing a finger at Darwin, who gazed back earnestly and wagged. "He's terrified. He's sittin' there thinkin', 'Holy fuck, is that tightassed freak gonna fry me next?' You gonna stand for this, Jeannie?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "First of all," he said patiently, "let's assume that no living creature, except possibly a longshoreman, has a thought process that mirrors your particularly profane patois. Second of all, unless the dog suddenly grows opposable thumbs and acquires both a metal skeleton and larcenous urges, he's in no danger from the anti-theft device. And third of all, he knows I'd never hurt him."

"And fourth," Jean put in, "Darwin doesn't really share your obsession with Scott's ass, Logan."

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you that I ain't obsessed – "

"You say that, but yet you keep referring to it," Jean said crossly. "And quit it with the pet names. My Scott is not your cupcake, your cream puff or your little love muffin."

"They ain't pet names, and I never called that dick my little – "

"Just eliminate the pastry references," Jean advised. "They're creepy. And strangely contagious."

"Contagious?" Scott asked.

"Jubilee's started calling you 'Wonder Buns,' " Jean explained. "From the time you wore those jeans to class. Logan knows the ones I mean."

"Wonderful," Scott muttered. He glared at Logan. "You should be grateful the voltage wasn't higher."

"Yeah? Well, your voice is gonna be higher when I'm done with you, Junior," Logan said ominously, popping his claws.

"We're not getting involved," Jean told the dog. "What I said before wasn't really getting involved. It was being territorial, possessive and animalistic. Like you get with your toy frog. But we're not getting involved in this. It sets a bad example for the students on conflict resolution."

"Yeah, what about the kids?" Logan demanded. "You rig your bike to shock metal, you ever think about what it's gonna do to Rasputin? You gettin' this, Jeannie? This little shit could've hurt a kid!"

"Actually, I warned Piotr before I set it up," Scott said. "I think I hurt his feelings. He told me that he didn't need to know about the anti-theft measure, because he wouldn't dream of taking something that didn't belong to him," he finished pointedly.

"Fuck you, cupcake," Logan said. "You gonna rig Jeannie up with one of those zap things next?"

"I don't need to," Scott said. "She can throw you across the room all on her own. Haven't you noticed? Just how many more times is she going to have to shoot you down? Or does your healing factor apply to your ego, too?"

"Not getting involved," Jean said. "But I am starting to get annoyed."

"I'm sorry, hon," Scott told her. "We shouldn't be bothering you."

"You're apologizing to her?" Logan said. "I'm the one you fucking fried! Apologize to me, you whipped little shit!"

"Fine," Scott snapped. "I'm sorry the current was strong enough to throw you across the room," he told Logan sincerely. "I was wrong to do that. Your flying carcass could have hit someone and hurt them. Or it could have damaged something else in the garage. I'm very sorry. I'm also sorry that it's probably going to take days for the burnt-hair smell to fade from the garage."

"Tightass."

"Dumbass."

"Uptight prettyboy."

"Troglodyte."

"Seat-sniffing freak."

"Are you listening to this, Darwin?" Jean asked. "This is why I'm having you neutered: because I don't want your brain to turn to mush from testosterone poisoning."

"And let's be clear," Scott said. "It's not that I object – much – to your using the bikes, I object to your stealing them and to your refusal to take care of them properly."

"Summers, I ain't kissing that bike goodnight just because you do," Logan said.

"Still not getting involved in this," Jean said. "But anyone who bleeds on my beagle will be very, very sorry."

"Your boy toy sure is sorry," Logan told Jean. "Sorriest piece of shit I've ever seen. Just dump him, Jeannie. You deserve better than this uptight asshole. You oughta be with a guy who's not afraid to break the rules."

"Tell you what," Scott said with exaggerated patience. "I will give you one of the other bikes. I will even help you build a bike of your own. And just to show you how nice a guy I can be, I'm taking your advice and breaking a rule." He gestured to the haze lazily rising from the singed Wolverine. "I'm letting you smoke in the house."