Rating: M for profanity
Characters: Logan, Scott, Darwin the Beagle, Lola the Siamese cat
Summary: Everyone defines fun differently.
Don't own them, am making no money off them, and I don't acknowledge X3. Thanks to RachelMartin64, the world's best beta.
"The problem with Summers," Logan said, "is that he's a twerp. Now tell me the truth, doncha ever look at that guy and wonder, 'Just what the fuck am I doing taking orders from this asshole?' "
Darwin the beagle gazed at Logan earnestly, eyed his plate of sandwiches, and wagged.
"Yeah, I thought so," Logan said, feeding the dog a piece of bacon, picking up the plate and heading out of the kitchen toward the rec room. "Now isn't this better than being stuck in the lab eatin' that shitty puppy chow they give you? We got some chicken, some roast beef, some bacon and some gravy. Put it all together and you got one helluva sandwich, let me tell you."
Darwin gave the sandwiches a look of liquid-eyed longing and wagged harder.
"Here, you have some of that," Logan said, tossing the dog a bit of chicken. "Nice day like this, you shouldn't be stuck in some damn lab watching Jeannie do whatever the fuck it is she does down there. Admit it, the lab's fucking creepy. Yeah, Jeannie's down there and she smells good, but I'll tell you what, we'll watch some hockey, eat some sandwiches, then we'll go out. Check out some rabbits out by the horse trails. We can swing by the lake, too. I know you like to give the turtles hell. We'll find some real frogs for you to bark at, too. Better than that toy thing Captain Candyass got you. Yeah, I know you like it, but trust me, we'll have a better time outside, you know what I'm saying?"
Darwin trotted happily by his side, and they entered the rec room to find the TV blaring and Scott Summers' cat, Lola, sitting imperiously in an easy chair. Darwin dashed ahead to greet the Siamese, tail wagging wildly, then abruptly darted back to Logan, tail between his legs, when she fixed him with the look of contempt she reserved for every living thing that wasn't Summers.
"Now just what in hell is wrong with you?" Logan asked the dog. "This is what you get from hanging around with fucking One Eye: You're turning into a wuss. Next thing you know he'll have you watching Lifetime TV and Oprah. Jesus H. Christ. We don't have to take this shit from a cat, you hear me?" Darwin looked at him adoringly and wagged.
"She gives you any crap, here's what you do. Watch." Logan growled at the cat, who yawned. "Well, she's a fucking idiot, so you gotta get fierce," Logan told the dog. "Like this." He snarled at the cat and popped a claw. Lola looked at him with disinterest, hoisted a hind leg and began to wash. "Oh, for fuck's sake," Logan snapped, swatting the Siamese, who leapt to the couch and launched into a string of feline epithets.
"Yeah, yeah, too bad," Logan told her. "We're watching hockey." He put his plate on the coffee table, settled into the chair, grabbed the remote and switched from Wolf Blitzer to ESPN. The cat yowled. "Just fucking deal," Logan told her. "What, you can't sit around and be useless on the couch? You gotta be in my chair?" The cat kept yowling, pacing back and forth on the couch and carrying on. Darwin moved closer to Logan and whined.
"Fucking drama queen," Logan snapped, raising his voice to be heard over the Siamese screeching. "Goddamn cat. Just shut up, will you? Can't you see you're upsetting the little guy?"
The cat upped the pitch and volume of her cries until she sounded, to Logan's sensitive ears, like a set of bagpipes being forced through a wood chipper. Meanwhile, Darwin, distressed by the racket, began first to bark, then to howl. "Shut up!" Logan yelled. "Both of you, just shut up! For Christ's sake, just shut – "
"LOGAN!" Scott Summers stormed into the room and snatched up the cat, who went silent as if a switch had been hit. She flattened her ears, and she and Summers regarded Logan with identical looks of disdain as the dog quieted down and, much to Logan's annoyance, bounced over to slobber lovingly over Summers' feet. "What the hell are you doing, Logan? I'm trying to teach a SAT prep class, and all I hear is the sound of Armageddon on Animal Planet! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Hey, she started it!" Logan snapped, pointing at the cat. "Me and the mutt were all set to watch hockey, and your damn cat starts yelling her head off."
"What did you do to her? You must have provoked her."
"Provoked her? I fucking turned on the game! What, she hates hockey now?"
"You turned on the – wait, was CNN on? Did you change before it switched to a commercial?"
"A fucking commercial?" Logan said. "Are you shitting me?"
"Lola enjoys watching CNN," Summers said with dignity. "Jean says she's just attracted to the motion of the crawl on the bottom of the screen, but Jean has no sense of reality when it comes to the pets. She also says Darwin eats rocks because he's interested in geology."
"Are you shitting me?" Logan said again. "Summers, I hate to break it to you, but your stupid fucking cat isn't sitting there thinking, 'Holy fuck, there's been an earthquake in Who-Gives-A-Shit-istan.' "
"Well, obviously not," Summers said acidly. "For one thing, she's evolved enough not to have to resort to profanity."
"Fuck you, cupcake!"
"If you need to change the channel while Lola's watching CNN, wait for a commercial," Summers said between gritted teeth. "I don't know how she can tell the difference, but she can. Show some courtesy for once. He's pretty slow," he told the cat, rubbing her cheek, "but with repetition, he can learn. Try to patient with him, even though it's hard. Remember, you're the smart one here."
"I ain't believing this," Logan said. "I ain't showing courtesy to a fucking cat. She's an animal, for Chrissakes! Like she fucking knows the difference between a commercial and a hockey game!"
"So being polite to a cat is stupid, but making sandwiches for a beagle is fine?" Summers said.
"I didn't make sandwiches for – oh, for fuck's sake," Logan said as Darwin swallowed a last mouthful, licked the plate, then dropped his front feet down from the coffee table. "What, you couldn't wait five fucking minutes until I get rid of this asshole?" Logan asked the dog. "Is that so much to ask?"
"Good boy, Darwin," Summers said. "Wait until he's distracted. Excellent strategy."
"Shut up, tightass," Logan snapped. "This is all your fucking fault. Your cat's a fucking loudmouth, and you feed your dog that piss-poor puppy chow so the poor little guy's always hungry. You shouldn't be allowed to have a goldfish, for Christ's sake. You got the poor mutt playing with fucking dolls – "
"They're squeak toys!" Summers snapped.
"He oughta be out chasin' rabbits!"
"Logan, for the twenty-third time, you are not giving the dog a rabbit of his own to chase. It's cruel, and it's stupid – he's a scent hound, once you let him off the leash he'll take off and we'll never get him back."
"Don't you think I fucking know that?" Logan snapped. "That's why I was gonna let the thing loose in here. The mutt would love it."
"The beagle," Summers corrected coldly, "has plenty of toys to keep him busy. He does not need you acting as his hygienically challenged cruise director. You are not bringing any sort of animal into this house, understand? Now if you'll excuse me, I have a prep class to teach. After this little encounter, I can focus on vocabulary: 'cretin,' 'curmudgeon' and 'cantankerous.' "
"Yeah? Focus on 'candyass' – it suits you and that fucking wimpy cat!"
Summers snorted and stalked out of the room, while his cat peered over his shoulder and gave Logan a look of pure loathing.
"Fucking uptight – thinks he's so smart – like he fucking knows – goddamn tightass," Logan muttered to himself. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair irritably for a few minutes while the dog snuggled close and started to mouth his bootlaces experimentally. "Here's what we do," he told the dog suddenly. "We go out, we check out the rabbits, the turtles, the frogs. We bring you back some frogs to play with. Maybe a turtle, too. Or one of those ducks. And since Captain Candyass doesn't want animals in the house – " he cocked an eyebrow and gave the dog a meaningful look – "we keep 'em in the jet."