#Wolverine 24 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stormxpadme · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 No. 24 - If only I could dream in a little less colour

Scogan Bingo challenge Neighbors AU

Scott would have easily made it in time if it hadn’t been for Charles of course using the excuse of today's date for a courtesy call, meaning yet another badly disguised attempt at trying and get Scott to change his mind. And these kinds of conversations you didn’t want to have on your mobile on the street and the subway unless you wanted half of New York to learn, you happened to be both a former teacher in a mutant school and the no-longer aspiring leader of a mutant military group not too long weeks ago. Not a good idea, with how, once more, alarmingly mutant-unfriendly the mood in general public felt lately, especially since the news of the Cure had broken.

It took Scott almost 20 minutes before he managed to end that damn call as just hanging up on his foster father would only have meant being forced, having to continue the argument telepathically. By that time, he had to all but run to the elevator to not lose even more precious time. And that was how he came to make the first crucial decision that night, upon realizing that said outdated transport cabin luckily was right on his floor, only its doors were just about to close. "Wait! Hold it, please!" Much to his annoyance, whoever was inside the lift ignored his shout so that he had to go even faster, slipping through the far too narrow gap between the closing doors at the last moment. Another day, he might have given an irritated comment about rudeness but with both his anxiety and his excitement about the upcoming procedure at the City Hall growing by the second, he wasn’t feeling like starting a fight right now.

Not to mention that one glance at the guy at the other side of the cabin let Scott know, he'd probably only have gotten a grunt for an answer anyway. It was the maintenance guy. Figured. Scott had only run into that certain, notoriously nonverbal neighbor a couple of times since moving in here but that had been enough for quickly deciding that giving that attractive muscular, slightly stocky shape any attention? Best to be filed under delusional fantasies, judging by the utter lack of interest in interacting with the building tenants that this dude displayed. Probably he'd only found himself thinking about that rugged, remarkably handsome face more than once lately in the first place because he'd seen the guy get himself hurt pushing waste containers one day from afar, and promptly instantly heal.

Not something Scott had had expected, but for the sake of his already skyrocketing paranoia about Charles possibly sending someone after him to spy on him, he'd decided that in a city overpopulated with all kinds of enhanced like this … It wasn’t that unusual, two mutants living in the same fairly huge apartment complex.

Either way, for feral guy, Scott didn’t have any patience for right now. Not with how especially slowly this damn elevator crept downwards today. It was only when he paced the small space unusually restlessly for his usual control of body and mind, and something crunched under his boot, that he realized, the dirty PVC ground was covered with lanterns and garlands in probably a whole range of flashy colors that Scott couldn’t make out thanks to his glasses. Given the occasion, the words that the half-torn and scrambled letters on some of them spelled out were still easy to guess. So this was where all that stuff had ended up that had brightened the grey, homogenous corridors of the apartment hallways just a few hours ago still.

"Yeah, I took it down. Big fucking deal," the stranger hissed, apparently noticing Scott's confused frown. "Not allowed on general space anyway. Fire hazard and shit. I'm not getting my paycheck cut for some holiday kitsch."

Scott held up one hand in surrender, determined not to let anyone ruin was what supposed to be his best day since he'd fallen out of an exploding plain as a kid with his baby brother in his arms. "Not my decorations." Another restless glance at his watch let him know he had still two more minutes to get to the station right outside the door which usually should be more than sufficient. Except every single street of this city would be overcrowded today, and with Scott always having to make painstakingly sure to keep his distance from other people if he didn’t want to risk any accidents with his glasses … For example, like almost tripping over his own nervous feet when the elevator cabin suddenly came to a halt, between two floors, and most of the half-blind neon spots on the ceiling went out. His brain needed a moment to catch on before new worry landed a solid blow to his punch, not unlike all these hits he'd been taking in the combat training he'd been undergoing from the age of fifteen on. "What the …? Oh no, no, no, this cannot be happening right now. I got a damn appointment."

When janitor guy, alarmingly unfazed, had the nerve to reach for a cigar in his shirt pocket before sitting down on the narrow bench on the cabin's side with a resigned sigh, Scott let out a growl of his own at the man for once. With two hectic steps, he was at the emergency phone on the wall, only to find that there wasn’t even a dial tone. "What …? This thing's dead!"

"Bub, you seen this place before you moved in here? Why do you think rent's so low? Everything in here is kept together by superglue and goodwill." The stranger lit his cigar, entirely ignoring the warning glare of red from behind Scott's glasses.

"Well, that's just great. So how about you call these people who write your checks on your mobile then?"

"You ever look at your calendar this morning, shades guy? Or out of the window? Who exactly do you think works today?" The man rested one leg on the other knee in continuous, nerve-wracking patience, a half-amused, half-lenient grin on his lips when Scott, in spite of his growing trepidation, couldn’t help but stare at the fascinating game of those thick thigh muscles under a worn, far too tight pair of jeans.

"Pretty sure a couple of guys with fancy car sirens do." Not ready to give up, Scott reached for his own phone though part of him already knew better. He'd indeed been very well aware when he'd left the comfortably wealthy life at Charles' behind, that a big city came not only with safe anonymity but also with the according social and technical issues, including those of the only place he could afford on his new small garage shop salary. Far too much lead in the walls causing basically non-existent reception in the hallways was just one of those. "Fuck!"

"You are the kid who moved into 5B last month, right? You seriously didn’t get stuck in here yet?" The stranger raised his brows at him when Scott continued to walk through the cabin with one hand clenched into a fist, feverishly going through possible options in his head.

"Some people like to keep their body healthy and use the stairs." Scott got only even more pissed off, not least because of the still-burning cigar. If he'd had his damn VISOR on him, he might have shot the simmering tip off just on principle. But not to mention, janitor dude on his part surely had no idea that they were part of the same species, Scott couldn’t even focus on seriously complaining right now. Not when he was dreading more and more, not making it to his meeting in time, and had no idea when he'd be invited to a new one. With those feelings, he seemed to be alone in this lift though. "You really don’t give a fuck about being stuck, huh?"

"Why should I? I don't got an appointment." With that, the stranger went back to smoking, staring up at the semi-darkness of the empty shaft above them through the grated ceiling.

There was an idea at least. The walls of this damn building were paper-thin which Scott knew thanks to already being perfectly able to tell when his neighbor on his left came home to scream at his wife about unpaid pills and when the prostitute on the other side of the hall started working. Maybe if he could get someone's attention, they could call 911 … "Hello? Anyone out there? Guys, this is 5B! Elevator's down! Hello? Guys, this is really urgent! I really need to get downtown! Can anyone hear me?" For a few more seconds, he listened to the silence almost deafening thanks to the broken elevator motor and a building probably basically empty thanks to everyone out partying already, only his own quickening, uneven breathing sounding through the cabin, and the unnerving long drags on that damn cigar from a few feet away … When nothing but silence was the answer, and a surprisingly compassionate headshake from the stranger, as the guy's surely enhanced senses could probably make it out that there wasn’t anyone within earshot, Scott cowered down on the cabin floor, trying to get his breathing under control and not to let the threatening panic choke him.

****

"Still nothing." Once he'd gotten his heartbeat back under control, Scott threw another glance at his phone display, without any hope, but still couldn’t see a single bar.

He probably deserved the next shrug from that bench over there that didn’t need a translation into feral to know which two words it expressed.

Fine. Waiting it was then. He could still make it to the City Hall if someone from the outside would notice the elevator not working anytime soon and call help. Even with so many residents not being at home, that was a pretty surefire bet. Scott had been seldom so grateful for the exact habit that had annoyed Jean so much in the end, of always overplanning things and never going anywhere without a generous time window if he could. He just needed to keep his mind focused on the task at hand lest he'd possibly start overthinking again what he was so dead set on doing tonight, after it had taken him so long to make this decision in the first place. Means of distraction, sadly, weren’t really available for the moment. Well, if anything, this stupid situation at least offered another chance at finding out more about this mysterious stranger whose damn name Scott still didn’t even know. "So, no going out on your part today?"

"I'm not a masochist." The man let out a huff and vaguely gestured towards the building exits. "Why would anyone of their sane mind hit town on New Year's? All these primitives out there who can't hold their liquor, starting fights left and right? Not exactly safe for the likes of us." Well, that answered the question if the guy had guessed by now why Scott didn’t take off his glasses in spite of the cabin's bad lighting. "This is basically a war zone out there, and I've seen enough of those in my time. Got enough entries on my police records already, too," the man added after a, this time dejected-looking, nibble on his cigar. "Holding cells got really shitty beds. Maybe you shouldn’t be in such a hurry to get your cute ass wasted tonight. At least not out there."

"No such luck," Scott gave back with a tired smile. "Told you, I got somewhere to be. I don't fault people for getting a little overexcited tonight. I'm one of them. I'm not thrilled that they could do the damn appointment only tonight, but when you get a freebie for something that usually costs a couple of thousand bucks, you don’t question."

"Hm." The man didn’t seem convinced and didn’t ask, either, but Scott hadn’t really expected that. "Getting up your hopes is never healthy, Shades. Especially tonight. Just one big damn letdown, usually. You build up these huge expectations and wake up with a hangover and disappointed to the bone the next day."

"Whatever." Scott had enough of this pessimistic bullshit. Rolling his eyes, he'd spotted a detail possibly useful in the massive grates up there. Suddenly filled with new energy, he jumped back to his feet and stretched up on his toes. But even with his considerable height, he couldn’t make out what he needed to see thanks to the disturbing quartz coating of his glasses, as the damn cabin had quite a high ceiling. "I think I can shoot the lock of this hatch." He quickly calculated the bill for a possible repair on said access grate in his head and decided, he could cover that with his next paycheck. Which still left him with another problem though. That shaft behind the exit was looking awfully narrow and winding for someone with his stature, slimmer since he was no longer encouraged to work out like a madman every night at the in-house gym but still towering over most other people. "Think you can climb through this tunnel to the hallway?"

The man looked at him as if he'd just grown a second head. "I look like Spider-Man to you?"

Scott eyed him from head to toe just to be a pain, doing his best to hide that in his opinion, the guy had actually a better physique than said famous web-crawler. Dude's ego was surely big enough already. "Hardly. Don’t worry, I'll get your job done for you. Just give me a lift so I can see better. I don’t want to hit a damn cable by accident. Would you hurry? Unlike you, I don't got all day," he snapped, agitation already taking over again when the stranger made no move to get up.

"You need therapy, you know." Sighing deeply, janitor dude finally approached him and wrapped his arms around Scott's waist which promptly sent a surge of unexpected heat through his veins, at the sensation of the steel cords of muscles playing under those thick arms and the warmth radiating off that strong body. The latter being a very welcome change to the winter coldness seeping in through the ramshackle building walls.

Scott called himself to order and sent his juvenile hormones where they belonged. "That thing's full of cobwebs and dirt. I can't see shit. Give me your phone, or mine. I need some light up here." He wriggled a little in the stranger's ridiculously easy hold on him to get to said device in his jacket pocket. A movement which promptly let the badge with his patient name and number that he was already wearing on his belt, slip from under the dark leather.

"The fuck …?" Instead of following the new instruction, the stranger suddenly let go of him so quickly that Scott dropped back to his feet with a thud, an almost disgusted look on his face as he stared at said badge with the stylized clinic's W logo on it. "You're one of the cowards volunteering for that Cure scam? That's your big plan for tonight? Betraying what we are and helping normal people wipe us all off the face of the Earth soon just because you need a couple more Ray Bans than the rest of us?"

Scott stared at the guy in new anger, both fists clenched hard by his sides this time, the pressure of his boiling emotions nurturing the power of his blasts behind his glasses to a point where a hated throb emerged behind his eyes. For seconds, he was looking in his usually not-that-limited vocabulary for any kind of fitting retort, for an insult big enough for this condescending bastard to articulate … But not a single word wanted to pass his lips, not least because it was a bad idea, getting in a possible physical fight with a feral in a confined space, especially one likely to have them both drop to their death if they made too much noise in here. Scott turned away from the stranger, deflated. So much for an interesting new acquaintance. A night for huge expectations turning into the biggest disappointments indeed. He could have tried, sure. Have the same useless debates all over that he'd left Mutant High with against the urgings, warnings, and admonishments of all his friends, his mentor, and the woman he'd once thought to love … But if these people who'd known him for years, already refused to understand, how could he expect a stranger to? Apparently, it was up to fate anyway if Scott would even get a chance to go through with this, at least tonight. He took his place on the ground by the corner again and shut his mouth.

****

"Look, I shouldn’t have said that." The stranger made it through exactly five minutes of the icy silence before speaking up again with an exasperated sigh. Apparently even someone usually so disinterested in social contacts started to feel a little cramped after a while, stuck in a place like this. "Politics have just been scary lately, you know that as well as I do. Thinking what those half-cooked drugs might do to the ones among our kind who can no longer deal with the pressure just pisses me off. I never had good experiences with normal people experimenting on the likes of us. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. You really wanna give me the silent treatment now for as long as it takes until they find us?"

"Not sure. You really wanna hear what I'm thinking right now? About you?" Scott gave back, still insulted and offended, not to mention more pissed about missing his damn appointment by the second. Unleashing these negative feelings on the next person within reach wasn’t entirely fair, especially since the guy did have something of a point, he supposed, but it wasn’t like the world had ever been fair to him. When the janitor just shrugged at him once more, tilting his head expectantly, he let out a snort and got up again, crossing his arms in challenge. "Well, by your accent, I'm guessing you grew up somewhere in bumfuck Canadian nowhere. Feral like you, shaped for battle by nature but mentally far too much out of control for regular duty? You surely signed up for the next best merc group the moment you were legal. After a couple of kills too many for the wrong side, you found out you had a conscience and deserted. You didn’t have the motivation for a real job though, so you let them pay you for keeping this ruin here together while you smoke and drink your days away. And because you fucked up so much in your life, you think you're not worth any warmth and happiness from anyone around you. So you bite people away before they do as much as give you a second glance. Oh, and also?" Scott had talked himself into a frenzy and just had to get it out, maybe just because the guy had let him down so much a minute ago, and even though the dude had turned suspiciously pale on his bench over there, entirely forgetting about his smoke. It was rude and spiteful and not like Scott at all, but fearing that the only chance at his happiness was just being blown out of this damn shaft, he was on the verge of losing all that self-control and polite distance to people he'd taught himself ever since mutating. Not like that had ever gotten him anywhere anyway. "Your New Year's allergy? I bet some high school jock with the IQ of toast let you down at midnight like 20 years ago, and now you think everyone you meet has to pay for that. Am I close?"

"Alberta," the stranger answered flatly, looking him in the eye as if he could see right through his glasses. By his hunched shoulders and that terrible emptiness suddenly in his gravelly voice, Scott could easily read that his thoughts were miles from this cabin suddenly.

Already, the bad conscience for his outburst hit like a freight train. "Huh?"

"Alberta, Canada. Can't tell you where exactly. I lost my memory five years ago. Been trying to find any clues ever since. No such luck. Moved here when I was getting tired of cage fighting to make a living. Some old mental dude in a wheelchair upstate New York found me on the road someday and helped me get the job. Dude probably still thinks I'll return the favor and help his little facility of sleeper agents out with some fight someday or something. Whatever. Never heard from him again and I'm not interested, frankly. I've had enough of war all my life from all I can remember. When you're supposedly more than a hundred years old, you've seen a few."

"A hundred …?" Scott's eyes went wide, the shock about the almost casual mention of his old home, of his former mentor from someone maybe not a stranger at all, almost immediately forgotten. Charles … Goddamnit, Scott should have known that the guy would find some way to make sure, he'd still be in some way in Scott's life, watching him, even if it was just by casually placing him in the same damn house as some old acquaintance. That was something Scott would have to think over long and hard once he'd no longer be busy with tonight's far more important plans. The next call with Westchester would definitely not be a friendly one. But for the moment, he neither found the energy to even tell the stranger about his suspicions nor to dwell on that new aggression of being constantly manipulated by his foster father. Not in the light of another, almost even more astonishing revelation from that stranger. Scott wasn’t even entirely sure why the guy was suddenly being so candid to him of all people. Or maybe he did know; maybe the two of them ending up here together did have a reason he also would have no chance to think about before tomorrow came. But that, too, was overshadowed by his sheer amazement and the shame about how much he'd really misjudged this stranger. Sure, he'd known in theory that ferals could get really old without hardly aging at all, but suddenly facing one of these people then … Facing the sheer weight of grief and history such a person carried, even when the latter was lost apparently, that ball of pure depression and frustration of a person there on the other side of the cabin … That was a whole different deal. Charles was a lying asshole, but Scott had to admit reluctantly, his mentor probably hadn’t been off about at least some of his lectures in the course of his years anyway. Including all those about restraint and a good, firm check on Scott's emotions, especially when he didn’t have all the information on a situation yet.

Before he could think of a badly needed apology, the stranger looked up again with that terrible lost expression in a pair of sunken dark eyes, a hard tug around broad lips that let the guy look older than his genes should allow. "And no. It was right after deserting that my arch-enemy killed the girl right in front of my eyes just to hurt me. That's one of the memories not even amnesia couldn’t wipe out. Fireworks had just started if you need to know. That made it easier. Drowned out the screams."

And just like that, Scott suddenly seriously considered cutting a hole in that damn floor below him and climbing out towards the nearest exit never to return. Talk about putting his damn foot in his mouth.

******

When the silence became too deafening, Scott started talking again, not least to maybe try to make it clear to the stranger why he'd just been such an ass. And also because he felt it wouldn’t have been fair, leaving him in the dark about them both having been used from afar by the same person in some way.

Janitor guy didn’t seem too surprised by his story, not even really commenting on it save for a bitter snort and a headshake, which in turn probably shouldn’t surprise Scott. Ferals came with a brilliant set of instincts usually, especially regarding people they shouldn’t trust.

That was something Scott especially on this night once more wished he would have had himself. "Xavier took me in after I'd made it on my own in foster homes and on the streets for a couple of years. At that time, I was far too grateful for that to realize, the guy just needed someone to lead the new strike team he was building. Don’t get me wrong, I'm still grateful to him, and I don't think it's a bad thing what he's doing, trying to keep the peace between our kind and normal humans. But I already got a mutation that doesn’t leave me the freedom of choice in many regards. After the first few missions and when my relationship with a teammate fell apart because work and fun don’t go together for me, apparently … I realized I'd never actually stopped to think if this was what I wanted. Guess that is what I came here for to find out. To see if there's another path in my life I want to take. And now I think I found one."

The stranger regarded him thoughtfully over the edge of his cigar that he'd somehow forgotten to light again in the last few minutes, and patted the bench next to him invitingly. "Logan. My name. Or just call me idiot, I guess," he said with a rueful grin when Scott dropped next to him. A mutually apologetic nod exchanged had the last of hard feelings fade away. "Scott, right? Well, let me tell you from experience, when it comes to decisions like this, I think is awfully vague. For how long have you had these?" He nodded at Scott's glasses with still that pensive frown.

"I was twelve. It happened shortly after my parents died and my brother vanished. That plane crash rendered the control over those damn blasts useless, for a lifetime, from all that Charles' doctors could find out." Scott rubbed his eyes under his glasses as he felt his headache grow stronger as if his mutation wanted to comment on the whole situation … or rear up in protest because it knew exactly what was coming tonight. Hopefully. "When I heard about the Cure, that was when I started questioning my role with Charles. I know there's no guarantee it even works, and there's no long-term studies yet but … Thing is, I didn’t think I would even get a chance at a shot so quickly. I just won the damn ticket when they did one of these case study lotteries. That's not a chance you waste. I'm not proud of running, Logan. I've been fighting for our race, for our cause, for years. But …" He paused, leaning his head back against the elevator wall, not sure he could make it clear to someone with enhanced senses and a healing factor erasing every pain and injury within seconds, what he had to deal with.

He actually expected Logan to try and talk him out of this again. Instead, the guy brushed the back of Scott's hand where it was tensely clenching on his jeans. He was even nice enough to ignore Scott's heart immediately beating faster in his chest again. "Show me?"

"Yeah, not happening." With a strained chuckle, Scott bravely fought his increasingly impure thoughts at the sight of those really beautiful pair of lips, those soulful eyes so close to him now. "The only device that keeps these blasts somewhat in check is in my apartment. You don't want to catch one of these by accident, believe me, healing factor or not. I've hurt too many people before when I didn’t close my eyes quickly enough; not gonna do that again."

"You can hold them back with your body though, right?" Logan reached up for a just as short touch along the straps of his glasses on Scott's temple, the cigar vanished somewhere in his jacket for good. "Come on, use your fingers. Take these apart for me?" He nodded down on the heap of decorations on the floor. "We ain't got nothing to do in here but party tricks for the moment. And you'd do me a favor, honestly."

Because such a thin blast through two fingertips with one eye admittedly was one of his easier tricks, and because Logan seemed truly interested, Scott finally gave in, shooting paper and plastic to his feet into particles before quickly slipping his glasses back into place. "What about you?" he asked with a weak grin when his new friend stared at the pitiful remains of those decorations with large eyes, back to being speechless again for a moment.

Logan silently got up, standing on the bench to stretch to the damn hatch. With a bright, menacing snikt-sound, a blade of pure metal protruded from between his knuckles, neatly cutting the lock in two.

"Just in case you still want to pull that stunt," he remarked dryly, sitting down again when Scott stared back and forth between him and the grate with his mouth ajar.

"I think I'll pass." The damn appointment for the moment almost forgotten, Scott couldn’t help but reach out to that rough feeling spot at the back of Logan's hand where only a faint trail of body fluid the same color as his glasses spoke of the already closed injury from that claw. "That's gotta hurt like a bitch."

"Not usually the first thing people wonder about if they see them," Logan stated quietly after long stunned seconds, his hand slowly turning to grab Scott's before he could pull it away. "And you? You're in pain too. Your breathing's off," he explained with a weak smile when Scott gasped.

"It's … something I'm used to," Scott answered after a moment of hesitation, staring down at their linked fingers, entirely at a loss about why he didn’t pull away. Maybe this long-missed touch of someone caring about him, beyond how useful he could be to them, just felt far too good. Especially while he tried to put into words what he'd been so determined to no longer question this morning. "I just started wondering at some point if I really had to when there was maybe another way. That constant pressure from the blasts being held back … That's one thing. But always being a danger to people and never being able to see the world for what it really is … When the invitation for my Cure shot came, for tonight, of all days …" He tilted his head back again, with a longing stare into the darkness, at the building ceiling over which the first quiet bangs of isolated rockets going off early had started to sound, loud enough even for non-enhanced ears. "It felt like fate. It's been a decade since I was last allowed to see a firework, Logan. I haven’t entirely forgotten yet how beautiful they are. Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier if I did, if I no longer saw colors in my dreams and memory. I want to take this chance before I forget completely."

"Dunno, bub." Logan unexpectedly let go of him, that skeptical darkness and a now very clear hint of worry returning to his tense posture as he lit his cigar again. "As far as I'm concerned? You see a lot clearer than most people I've met in my life."

To that, Scott didn’t know what to say so he decided to stay silent again for a while.

*****

With the time window shrinking by the second, resignation set in at some point. When the noise of the fireworks outside grew louder and louder, Scott didn’t even dare check his phone for the time anymore, the depressing silence starting to become painful. "Doesn’t seem like we'll be found anytime soon. Too bad you made me ruin those decorations. Here I was just thinking we could have our own party."

"Told ya, I don’t do New Year's." Logan chuckled, the argument that wasn’t even really one fortunately over.

"All the more a reason to replace those horrible memories of yours with better dreams." Gathering all his courage, Scott reached for Logan's hand again, his heart immediately hammering in his chest when an increasingly interested, curious glance met his, the man next to him licking his lips in a gesture almost too brief to notice … if you hadn’t been waiting or it. "Come on! Ball's dropping only once a year. Not sure about the time, but people do usually kiss at midnight, right?"

"No idea. I'm not a traditional guy as you might have noticed," Logan warned him, but it came with a lot less bite this time. "Since we are in this together, though …" And without having to talk much about it, they both knew, that wasn’t only true for their little predicament in this damn cabin tonight. But those were matters early enough talked about again tomorrow. It was far more interesting suddenly how those beautiful lips looked from up close, slightly opened as they were slowly approaching …

And then the damn elevator cabin started to move again.

Scott wasn’t finished yet cursing all the damn fortune gods of this verse by the time they reached the ground floor to a crowd of impatient other tenants already waiting. Some technician in a grey uniform grinned at them proudly, for having been so fast, and there was even someone Logan knew, judging by the exhausted groan on his lips.

"The fuck are you doing here, Wade?"

"Getting you to the party I told you about of course. Since you didn’t answer your phone, I came here to see what was up. You should thank me." The guy who was obviously off to a costume ball, judging by the red and black latex suit covering both his body and face. Wrapping his arm around Logan's shoulders, he entirely ignored his friend's reluctance and warning growls, dragging him with him towards the exit. "Who's that cute ass over there? You two made good use of that hour in the cabin, huh?"

"Shut it, Wade. Get out of here. Told ya, I'm not coming." Logan pushed the overly excited weirdo out the front door and turned back to Scott, looking definitely a little regretful himself about the sudden end of their little adventure. "So. You can still make it to City Hall, I think."

"Yeah, gotta run." Only Scott didn’t feel like saying goodbye yet, not like this, not after what had almost just happened. "How about I buy us a bottle of booze on my way home? We could watch a movie or something."

"From all I heard about those drugs, you'll spend the next two weeks puking your guts out, bub. But if you're still game after that … Apartment 1C." At least no longer that aggressive about Scott's choice, Logan pulled him in for a hug, this time not even sparing his friend a glance who was already sticking his head through that door again, whistling at them. "No one can take this decision off your shoulders, Shades. Might wanna remember though that new chances don't expire at midnight on New Year's. Just don’t do something you might regret. Now get the hell out of here."

"Going." Quickly turning away before the other man could see the returning unsettled frown on his face and possibly throw him off balance for good, Scott hurried away.

****

Somehow, he'd known, the whole time. Maybe he'd even hoped for it a little. In any case, the last tears of humiliation about the disparaging comments from these damn doctor hacks immediately dried behind Scott's glasses when he left the City Hall behind and suddenly saw Logan standing right before him, softly pulling him back into his arms as if not a second had passed since they'd parted in the hallway.

"Still got your Ray Bans, huh?" It wasn’t a question and certainly not one of surprise.

"I balked when they came with the needle," Scott admitted, shuddering in the stranger's arms at the memory of these cold sterile facilities, all these people who were so eager to reduce the number of mutants on this planet as quickly and thoroughly as possible … Christ, what had he been thinking? "I told them I needed more time to think. They said, if I go now, I wouldn’t need to bother coming back. And that I was ruining my only chance at a proper, normal life."

"I hoped you blasted them in their stupid asses." Logan growled at that building as if he was about to storm it and rip all people and equipment for this special procedure parade of the Worthington Labs tonight there to pieces.

Scott decided they could both find something better to do on the last night of the year than spending time in a holding cell and buried his hands wordlessly in Logan's hair to pull him down for a kiss. It was a fantastic, mindblowing first touch full of yearning and bliss, and greed that only ended when the increasing number of fireworks and the deafening cheers from the distance let them know, the ball had dropped at Time Square. "Happy New Year, stranger."

*******************************************************************************

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