World's About to Break
Logan wouldn't call himself a genius. He left that to other people. Jagan. PG.
a/n: This was supposed to be a drabble and apparently I suck at keeping things short and sweet, so have 1,400 words of some BTR/Avengers AU! Avengers used loosely because I would need a serious canon review to make this a real fic. Also, the title is from the terrible theme to The Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, a fantastic cartoon with a horrid intro, and I only used it because… how do you name a drabble? I don't own that song, the Avengers, or BTR…
Somewhere in the bottom of a trunk in Logan Mitchell's incredibly extensive basement was a framed dollar bill. The wood of the frame was chipped and the glass over the front was cracked. No one knew about it, so no one ever would ask, but if anyone did happen to ask Logan about it, he'd be able to tell them the whole spiel his father gave him throughout his adolescence about the value of a dollar. It was the first money he ever earned, from tutoring in high school. At age twelve.
Logan wouldn't call himself a genius. He left that to other people. And plenty of people did it, too. Newscasters, magazine covers, the people who bought his products.
It was the money that came from his extensive work in medicine that Logan cared about. To be honest, he usually forgot about that stupid framed dollar. His dad had forced him to frame it, it hadn't been his choice. It wasn't even a single dollar bill, it was a twenty, and he'd wanted to put it in his savings account.
To say Logan's father controlled Logan's entire life and all his actions until the day he died would be an understatement. The reach of his control stretched beyond the grave and even after he died, Logan was left in his father's shadow, with his father's company and his father's job.
Not that Logan didn't love being a multimillionaire surgical genius who had taken the medical world many long strides forward in just the years since medical school, but it was often a burden to carry the name "Mitchell."
Logan had always wanted something that was his own. Even his own achievements weren't his own. He couldn't even own being the world's youngest billionaire at age 22; a few scandals and rumors came out at the same time of his father rigging Logan's work and being a large part of his success. It wasn't true, of course, but Logan's father was still able to overshadow his son's thunder with press conferences and 60 Minute specials.
So maybe Logan resented his father some. And maybe that was the entire reason he ever began working on his "private" collection; high-tech weaponry and gadgets and a full-sized metal suit that he thought at one point would be his hugest failure.
His personal assistant, Camille, had expressed her concerns that Logan's obsessive behavior about this suit was becoming a problem. Logan, then, just changed the pass code to his workshop and locked himself in to work until Camille agreed to stop pestering him about it. Now it was pretty much Logan's baby, and for good reason. The suit wasn't just a ridiculous, expensive endeavor of Logan's. It saved lives, something Logan had been a big fan of for many years.
"James is here to see you, Logan—are you working on that suit again?"
Logan sighed and used his foot to hit the remote on the floor and turn down the music he had on loud in the workshop. "Camille, you know how important this is, and why doesn't James just show himself in?" he tried his best to enunciate around the screwdriver in his teeth. He had the chest of the suit open, trying to tweak the energy core, and he raised an eyebrow at Camille over the tall metal shoulder.
"I think you just like that it makes you taller. And he doesn't show himself in because he likes his presence to be announced. You know that," Camille replied, turning with true talent on her high heel and clicking her way back out of the workshop. Logan watched her go with a roll of his eyes, but he was quickly distracted by someone else. James was standing in the doorframe grinning and he thanked Camille with a friendly touch to her shoulder, but his eyes were glued on Logan.
He strutted into Logan's workshop with a cocky not-unfamiliar look plastered on his face. "I do like my presence announced. I mean, I'm sort of a big deal."
Logan rolled his eyes and reached up to lower glasses onto his nose and took the screwdriver from his mouth. He didn't bother looking at James as he carefully inserted the screwdriver into the opened panel in his suit. "Why're you here, Cap?"
James' groan was unmistakable. Logan could practically hear his smile fall away. "I told you not to call me that. Use my name when we're alone…"
Logan leaned his face closer to the core piece, biting his bottom lip briefly in careful thought, though he was definitely more focused on his suit than on the superpowered young man now somewhere behind him. "Maybe if you dressed like a civilian sometimes instead of letting the giant star on your chest show through your jacket," he teased, though his tone hardly showed it, considering his concentration was entirely elsewhere.
There was a deep, dramatic intake of breath behind Logan, then a sigh so heavy he could feel it on his neck.
…no, he couldn't feel it because it was so dramatic, he could feel it because James was an inch from him. Logan dropped his head with a short huff. "I'm sort of working here…" he reminded James, but James only leaned down against his back, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.
"Sometimes I think you love your suit more than me…" he mumbled between kisses, traveling down Logan's neck and sliding a hand up to lower the lab coat off his shoulder. Logan always wore a coat when he was working, whether it was on improving argon lasers or picking at gene codes or tweaking the suit. It had started years previous as a proud doctor thing and had eventually become habit. Before Logan could roll his eyes and tell James how ridiculous that was (although it honestly wasn't that unwarranted of a statement), James added, "You know, you don't need the suit to make you taller. I like how short you are. You're just the right height for this…" At which point he took Logan's chin with his finger and lifted it so he could kiss him over his shoulder.
Logan told himself he was only allowing it because James had expressed something as pathetic as jealousy of the suit, but something in him knew it was because he could hardly ever resist America's hero. If the dangerous lives they lived didn't make his heart swell enough, James certainly did Logan in.
When James finally broke the kiss with a smirk, Logan tried to put on a stern face. "I really am working, you know," he said, turning his attention back on the suit, adjusting his glasses and inserting the screwdriver again. However he didn't force James off his back. Logan was business, but he wasn't awful.
"It's heavy enough to stay upright if I had you pinned up against it, right?" James asked right against Logan's ear with his hands moving snakily around Logan's waist.
That had Logan's eyes back on him, over his shoulder. "James!" Logan hissed, even if these sorts of things coming out of James' mouth were hardly a surprise anymore.
Cheekily amused and apparently satisfied, James chuckled, squeezing Logan's middle. "That's more like it…"
A beep toned from an intercom near the door before Camille's urgent voice sounded in the workshop. She knew better these days than to come down when James was in there with Logan. "Logan. Knight is on the line. It's an emergency."
"That's our cue," Logan chimed, suddenly composed. James was immediately off Logan's back just as Logan was taking off his glasses and flinging them onto a counter with the screwdriver.
They both were taking off their respective jackets, a leather one for James and a lab coat for Logan, while James fixed Logan with a serious look. "We'll get back to this later," he promised, and tossed his jacket onto a chair as he ran backwards a few feet. He gave a sudden smile and wink at Logan before turning and dashing through the door of the workshop.
Logan allowed himself a smile as he watched James go, then opened the suit to climb in. He activated the communication line from inside as the metal shut around him and began hastily preparing himself for some real work. "Talk to me, Kendall."