A/N: This has to be my fave pairing in this fandom. I don't know why, but I just think Kurt and Logan are really cute together. They're my favorites from the movies. Also, I love Kurt in X men: evolution. A few of my friends are a little concerned about me and my mental well being due to the whole watching cartoons and the like religiously, but, they're still sticking by me, so I suppose that's a good sign. Anyway, I think I've rambled nonsensically long enough. Onward to the first chapter. Oh, and thought I should mention this takes place before, during, and a bit after the third movie.
There were at least three things that Logan swore were scheming to drive him absolutely batshit crazy.
Number one was that damned tail, always swaying about, seemingly independent from the body it was attached to. It was like it had a mind of its own, and was aware of his wandering eye, and purposely tempted his eye to follow it to where it joined the body. And it was prehensile, which just made it worse in his book. Because his mind was far from being pure, and the thought of a prehensile tail… let's just say he had to work extra hard to police his thoughts, living in a school of budding telepaths, taught by perhaps the best telepath in the world. He didn't want to be explaining that one to the kids.
Number two was perhaps worse than number one. It was where having heightened senses were more a curse than a blessing. The smell was everywhere, all the damn time, permeating his room. Some exotic spices and incense, some he could name others he couldn't, all mixing together into the headiest scent he'd ever inhaled. On top of it all was what he imagined that far off circus smelled like. It was a comforting aroma. And it wouldn't leave him the hell alone.
Number three wasn't so much driving him crazy as it was annoying him. He just wanted to help the guy out and make him feel better. But being comforting wasn't much his forte. However, he just looked so lost and depressed all the time, hardly saying a word to anybody, not even Storm…it was enough to get him down. Typically, he was one to let him lick his wounds and get over it himself. That's what he'd done himself. But that's getting ahead of the story.
After Jean had died, Logan and Scott had taken it both very hard. They each dealt with it in their own archetypal way. Scott kept to himself in his room, growing more gaunt and morose each day, and Logan left. Where to, no one knew, or asked. But he came back after about two months, looking the same as usual, with personality intact. He had burst through the large wood doors, dropped the keys to Scott's bike on the small table by the door, and started towards his room. And stopped dead in the doorway. Because there he was, curled up in an almost painful looking ball on his bed, the tip of his tail almost touching his nose. He appeared asleep, but one whiff of the air told him it hadn't been a restive sleep; tears had been shed recently and a lingering melancholy scent hung about the room. Logan tightened his grip on his knapsack, at a loss of what to do. He'd expected him gone back to Germany or something by now, seeing as he'd expressed no desire to hang around after the incidents at Alkali Lake. Something about being a man of peace.
Luckily for him, Storm had heard him come in, and sought him out to welcome him home. She leaned over his shoulder, sighing sadly at the figure on his bed. "What's he doing here?" Logan asked, once they were far enough down the hall that they could risk talking without waking him. "He has no place else to go," Storm answered. "What about the circus? He seemed pretty keen to go back there." "He did. The Professor and I took him there in the Blackbird. But…there'd been a fire. Much of where he'd lived was gone. There was no one left. So the Professor offered him a place here. We're still trying to find an empty room for him, and make it suitable for him." "So you stuck him in my room?" Logan demanded gruffly. "Logan, look, we didn't know when you'd be coming back, if at all. His room should be finished soon. Just let him stay a little longer. Please?" Storm nearly begged. Reluctantly Logan agreed, tossing down an inflatable mattress, some blankets, and a pillow for him on the floor, letting him know he could stay there until his room was ready.
That had been six months ago. Logan was still trying to figure out what the hell could possibly be taking so long on his room. In that amount of time he had seen that Kurt was just a simple sort of guy, didn't want or need big fancy luxuries, and could make do just fine with regular accommodations. But he wasn't the one in charge of the room makeover. Besides, he'd gotten used to the company over time, and now…well, the animalistic part of his brain had gotten more than used to Kurt, and had started thinking mate. Which Logan simply accepted. He lived by his instincts and senses, so why should they be wrong about this? Didn't bother him one bit that Kurt was the same gender, that had never mattered to him. No, the problem was first if Kurt was interested as well, and then how to pursue the blue fuzz ball.
Unbeknownst to either Logan or Kurt, Rogue and Bobby were discussing essentially the same thing. Rogue counted herself as Logan's best and only true friend, and thus believed she was something of an expert on all things Wolverine. Most of the time. Bobby was inclined to believe her, as he personally didn't want to get up close with Logan. The last time he had, he'd said the wrong thing, nearly incurring Wolverine's wrath and soldiers had invaded, and he'd seen them fall to his claws. However, he was having a hard time accepting that Logan was chasing some tail. More specifically, Kurt Wagner's.
Rogue sighed in exasperation, her southern accent leaking out just a little bit. "It's 'cause you're a guy Bobby. You're not as perceptive as me. Plus, I can just tell with Logan. I've been watching-'' "Why?" Bobby interjected. "I had the feeling something was up, and I was curious. Now listen," Rogue continued. "I been watching them together. I've picked up on little things. Plus, remember, I've got a bit of Logan in me," she tapped her gloved finger to her temple, referencing when she'd imprinted Logan twice, once voluntarily, once not so much. "I think like him sometimes. And I'm definitely right about this. Just wait, you'll see." "But what about Professor Grey?" "It's been eight months. And even before that, he…didn't give up as much as accepted her choice of Prof. Summers. He moved on, it happens. And don't even say it's a rebound thing," she warned. "Wasn't gonna," Bobby held up his hands in surrender. He was more than happy to leave this matter in her more than capable gloved hands.
Kurt 'ported into the room he shared with Logan, curling up on his air mattress, his tail thumping softly on the blankets as he thought. He had gotten it into his mind that he wasn't on the best of terms with Logan. He was after all the interloper in his room. He didn't realize that it was just the way Logan was, to be gruff and laconic. So he was trying to find a way to make peace with him, and also apologize for invading his room. Unfortunately, he had no idea what he could possibly get Logan. He didn't seem to want anything. Growling softly in frustration, Kurt sat up, looking around in hopes of gaining inspiration.
The room was furnished spartanly, similarly to his room in the church tower in Boston. A bed, a dresser, a bedside table with a lamp, another dresser that doubled as a TV shelf, a closet, a bathroom. Very plain, very befitting of its occupant. It gave him no clue as to what to get him. Still, his yellow eyes scanned the room, finally falling on the small trash can overflowing with beer cans and bottles. He had often heard Logan complain about the lack of beer in the school and the trouble it was to go out and buy it. That could work, a six pack of beer and maybe some of the cigars he favored. He dug through his pockets, finding a few crumbled bills, adding up to about $15. Hoping that would be enough, he leapt to his feet and down the hall, flinging himself down the stairs and 'porting before his cloven feet hit the ground.
Logan hesitated with his hand on the door knob. He hadn't left the door closed, but he could clearly hear Kurt behind it. He didn't want to burst in on him unawares and startle him, as had been known to happen in the first few months of him rooming there. He inhaled deeply, rapping his knuckles on the door before opening it. The rush of imploding air and the faint smell of brimstone met him. Damn, startled him again. Kurt was gone, leaving no clue as to where he'd disappeared to. He'd gotten better at teleporting, more confident in his abilities, and was able to go without seeing his destination. Resting on Logan's bed was a six pack of high quality German imported beer and a small box of cigars with a blue bow stuck on top. He snorted in amusement, and moved his gifts onto his bedside table, grabbing one of the cans and cracking it open. It was good, really good, and probably expensive. Question was, why had Kurt bought it? It must've taken all his money. Logan finished his beer, and set aside one can for the elf as a thank you present. The cigars he'd keep to himself, since as far as he knew Kurt wasn't interested in them.
A pair of yellow eyes flashed from the shadows along the ceiling of the hallway, followed by a burst of surprisingly white pointed teeth. Logan had liked his gift apparently, which was good. Maybe they would be able to get along more from now on. He crept along upside down, nearly invisible in the shadows. Over the past months he had become very familiar with the ceilings of the mansion, exploring them day or night. For instance, he knew if he kept straight along this path, he would come to the lounge where the students spent their leisure time. And if he took a right then a left before that, he'd come to the kitchen, where there was a fair supply of sweet snacks. Which sounded like a good idea to him, as he was a bit jittery for some reason, and perhaps cookies would help. He bounded along the walls until he hung right above the cookie jar on the counter. All he had to do was carefully lift the lid, snatch a few and be gone before Storm caught him and told him to put them back, it was almost time for dinner.
Kurt had almost pulled away the lid of the cookie jar when it sunk into the counter. "Vas?" A head popped out of the counter, followed by the rest of a body. Kitty grinned sheepishly at him, clutching the cookie jar. "Uhh…hi. This isn't what it looks like," she said. "Same here," Kurt answered. "Kitty, what's taking so long?" Bobby peeked in, Rogue peering over his shoulder. "Oh." "You won't turn us in to Storm, will you?" Kitty asked. "Nien, not if you won't," Kurt dropped from the ceiling, landing nimbly on his feet. "Were you coming in for some cookies too?" Rogue glanced at him, shoving her arm up to the elbow into the porcelain jar. Kurt nodded, and grabbed some cookies with his tail. "I was worried for a second that you were Storm telling me to put them back," Kitty told him, popping a cookie in her mouth. "I was worried about the same thing. She has been very…adamant about no sweets right before dinner," Kurt chuckled softly. "What're you doing out and about anyway?" Bobby asked. He thought Kurt was blushing, though it was hard to tell.
"I was startled, by Logan. I was leaving him a gift, because I thought perhaps he was mad at me." "Why would you think that?" Rogue asked. "He hardly speaks to me, and when he does, it isn't very friendly. I was after all just stuck in his room without his permission. So I bought him some beer and cigars and left them for him." Rogue shot a glance at Bobby, who rolled his eyes. "Honey, that's just the way he is. He's never been the friendliest of guys. You learn to live with it." "So it is not aimed at me?" "Nope. Don't worry too much about it. Bet he liked the gift though." Kurt nodded, grinning. "That's something then," Kitty said, trying to boost his spirits. He needed it, after everything. They each took a few more cookies apiece, before going their separate ways. Where the students went, he didn't know. He however, went to his favorite place in the whole mansion; the attic. There was a window, partially boarded up, that offered a breath taking view of the grounds and the trees beyond. It was the perfect spot to watch the sun rise or set. He plopped down on the floor in front of the window, his legs tucked up and his arms wrapped around them while his tail beat a soft pattern on the ground, raising little puffs of dust. He watched the sky fade to bluish black, darker than his own skin, until the attic was pitch black. It was no problem for him, as he had excellent night vision. But he wasn't ready to leave just yet. He wanted to watch the stars, see how many constellations he could name. He made it to fifteen before his eyelids drooped and he slid to the ground, curled up and asleep. Not even Storm could find him when it was time for dinner.
A/N: so, what did you think? Was it good, bad, completely suckish? Pretty please let me know