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cyndrarae

Rebelling against Reality since 2003

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JM: Manip by Liz (Hugh's finger in Jimmy
cyndrarae

X-men fic: In the Beginning (AU): Chapter 13

Previous chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve
A/N: I know it's been a very very VERY long time since I updated this. If you're still reading this, well, thanks :) So the series is still an AU to the first X-Men movie - a fantasy that puts Scott and Logan together from the beginning. This chapter is Scott POV.


***Scott***
Athabasca Airstrip, Alberta


So…

He didn’t know his name – Lord knows where he picked up ‘Logan’ from. For all he knew it could be neither his first, middle or last name after all. His mutation made it unclear what his age would be since… he would heal the whole ageing process out.

“What… do you remember anything at all?”

“Only the last fifteen years.”

I waited. He didn’t elaborate. “The first thing you remember?”

“Waking up in a cabin north of Calgary.”

“Is… is that why you want to stay here? You’re looking for your past?”

For the longest time he didn’t reply. When he finally did, it was not something I was prepared for. “Maybe. But most times it feels like… like I’m running away from it. All I know is, I gotta find it first, before it finds me.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. But then I didn’t have to because we were already turning into the Athabasca airstrip. Logan parked and got out. By the time I rid myself of the damn seat belt and got out (still hurt, remember?), he’d taken out my rucksack from the back and was already walking toward the nearest ground staff. I had no idea if the guy was legit or not, just that he seemed in charge of the three pea-sized charter planes docked nearby.

“Logan, wait!”

I rushed after him but he was already a good ways ahead of me, thanks to his stupid long strides and to my short limping ones. This was moving way too fast, I couldn’t possibly get on that flight right now. I needed more time to talk to him, convince him to see our side of things. Damn it I still hadn’t had a chance to pitch the rest of my…

“I’m sorry sir, snow storm’s heading right this way. All flights have been grounded indefinitely.”

Well. Never mind.

I watched as Logan’s shoulders dropped just that bit, before he must have realized I was standing right behind him. At which point he tensed up, then slowly turned and I greeted him with my best, most apologetic ‘hey, what can you do?’ shrug. He narrowed his eyes at me, like he knew something I didn’t want him to, and turned back to the man.

“What about Boyle?”

“That’s a ‘no go’ too. The nearest airstrip you could try is Lac La Biche approximately three hours due east. Maybe by the time you reach, the storm should have moved off of there.”

Three hours is good. I could work with that. I continued to look as inconvenienced as I could, for Logan’s benefit but inside I was practically bouncing up and down with joy. Of course there was still the matter of how far Logan’s generosity was likely to extend. Would he offer to drive me up to Lac La whatever, or was this goodbye right here and now?

Suddenly I didn’t feel so optimistic anymore. Logan looked pissed, his fists poised at his hips as he glared at the back of the ground-staffer quickly walking away from us. Absently I turned sideways to find a giant map of Alberta spread out on a billboard six feet away. Looking at the route we’d be charting, another vague memory tickled at the back of my head.

“I hear Plamondon has this really great place to eat!”

Logan scoffed as he turned toward me. “Looking for another excuse to climb into my lap again, eh?”

Aargh. My cheeks burned, but I zipped up hard to prevent any more expletives to color the so far cordial conversation. Let him have the last word, *again*. Logan smirked and started back towards his truck. I followed limping and more than a little relieved he didn’t tell me to get lost.

Yet.

***

Not a big fan of road trips, mostly because it feels like I’m not doing anything constructive during that time. If money wasn’t an issue, why’d people prefer to drive ten hours to someplace when they could get there by air in two, is beyond my comprehension. And when it’s driving in Canada, the land of no landscapes period, wow… *boring* doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Alright I couldn’t wait any longer.

“I told you, Professor Xavier is a telepath right?”

He frowned, deeper, more suspiciously.

“He can unlock minds you know, dig out stuff buried so deep even you can’t get to it sometimes.”

“…”

“He can answer all your questions, Logan. Hell I know two other telepaths who can help you get back all your memories if you just…”

“Come with you to New York?”

I didn’t like the dangerously cynical tone of his voice, but pushed on anyway. “I’m just trying to help…”

“If you really wanna *help*, why don’t you send your telepath pals up here to see me? Why do I gotta turn my whole life around and go with you?”

Because you might try to shred them to bits and bury them here in the wilderness, that’s why! No, I didn’t say that.

“Hey I’m not asking you to give up your life, Kerouac suits you, really, it does.”

He smirked at that.

“All I’m suggesting is a simple give and take. We help you get your memories back. In exchange you try out the X-Men for a couple months. That’s all. If you don’t like it, you split.”

“…”

Damn it. I was getting desperate here and the mighty Wolverine was too busy maneuvering a tricky shoulder of the road.

“Look, I’ll… I’ll even fix your truck for you. Complete overhaul completely free of cost, I can make it good as new. What? I can!”

That smirk on that face was absolutely the most annoying expression in the galaxy.

“Look, there must be something I could do for you. What… what do you want? Just tell me! What do you *want* Logan?”

Logan turned to me then. The face was as unreadable as a block of stone but those eyes… his eyes were saying so much it made my head fucking spin.

I looked away quickly, didn’t even realize when my pulse started racing, or why. I strived to breathe as normally as I could, turning back to my frosted window frosting it even more with my hot breaths, wondering what the hell happened to me every time Logan looked at me like, like *that*.

Rage. Had to be rage. Rage that the fucker would think I would… that I’d just give myself to him in exchange of… but then could I really blame him? The way I’d acted last night and this morning in the hotel room…

Damn it. Fucking Johns. I might as well have had the words “cocksucking whore” branded into my forehead.

***

We reached Plamondon at ten minutes past one and Logan clearly didn’t need to be reminded to stop. We picked the first, cleanest looking diner and found ourselves a booth by the window. The man had such a massive presence, both physically and otherwise, that every pair of eyes in the joint automatically turned towards him. Some stared, others frowned, and the noise level went down a couple notches as more than a few conversations were abandoned mid-sentence.

My little temper tantrum from before had worn itself out by then, and unfortunately so did the painkillers I took in the morning. So while Logan rattled off his long list of eatables off the plastic menu card to the waitress, I just asked for a glass of water and coffee.

“Black, please. No cream, no sugar. Thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow at me when the waitress walked away. “That’s your lunch?”

“Think we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Yeah? That doesn’t stop you from riding me when you already know my answer.”

I sighed. Riding Logan… the phrase evoked some very unwelcome images in my head and I tried not to wince. He sprawled back in his seat and kept his sharp gaze trained on me, frequently strolling down casually before coming back up. I tried not to shift or let him know how uncomfortable I was, and lashed back at him verbally instead.

“You said you wanted to find it, your past. I’m offering you the chance to do just that. Why won’t you take it?”

The gaze wavered, but he didn’t answer me immediately. Fact he didn’t answer me at all.

“So any question you don’t like, you just ignore huh?”

He ignored me again.

“Haven’t had much practice making conversation before I came along, I suppose?”

“Conversations are overrated.”

“You think this silent, brooding thing you got going makes you look like some cool, studly alpha male or something?”

He smirked again. “Thanks for the compliment.”

I shook my head dramatically. “So grossly deluded. Fifteen years of isolation can do that to a guy.”

“Wise words from someone whose grand total life ain’t a day more than that.”

“Appearances are deceptive, *grandpa*. I’m older than you think.”

“Okay, sixteen then.”

“Fuck off!”

Logan grinned. He actually grinned! And his entire face lit up in a way that made him look like a completely different person, not the angry, brooding guy I’d been hanging around with for the past two days. He suddenly cleared his throat and looked away, which made me realize I’d been staring back at him shamelessly and I quickly looked away too. My water and coffee arrived and I popped a couple of pills for the growing pain in my ribs.

“So,” Logan suddenly started. “X-Men?”

Oh Jeez. I had let that slip out earlier and apparently he’d been paying more attention than I gave him credit for.

“Yeah. It… the kids at school started calling us that and the name just stuck. It’s short for Xavier’s men. Or Professor X’s men? Technically there’s more women in it these days than men but, you know.”

“…”

“It’s not *that* bad!”

He snorted and looked away, shaking his head obviously thinking derogatory things about my school and my team. Maybe he thought we were a bunch of ridiculous hero wannabes. Maybe he thought we were foolish, or unreal, fronting for something ghastly and horrible. And that was the moment I had a simple epiphany.

“You have trouble trusting, don’t you? You don’t trust anyone but yourself.”

The frown returned with a vengeance, but he wouldn’t look back at me yet.

“This isn’t a trap, Logan,” I added as softly as I could, suddenly getting the impression that Logan looked cornered, like a furious wild animal.

“We really do need you.”

He looked up at me then. “Do you?”

Of course, that’s what I just said. I frowned not completely understanding, until I suddenly did.

// Do *you*? //

I gulped hard, the anxiety from before starting to settle into my empty guts once more. He looked away abruptly, and the moment was broken.

“Be right back.”

Logan got up and before I could panic about his leaving me again, he turned towards the restrooms. I waited until he was completely out of sight before letting go a huge breath of relief. But the relief didn’t last too long.

I was losing him again. Logan was going to drop me off at Lac La Biche and drive away and out of my life forever. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Nothing? Really?

***

I have no explanation for what happened next. Maybe I was desperate, maybe I was curious. Maybe whoring myself is my true nature after all.

I got up and left my jacket in the booth, then summoning up every ounce of courage I could find, I walked into the restroom after Logan. He was standing at the sink wiping his hands with a bunch of paper towels when he turned and noticed me. I looked into his eyes and he went deathly still.

Someone flushed and nearly startled me out of my wits, but I waited until a middle-aged trucker came out of one of the booths, looked at Logan first and then me, then without washing his hands quickly exited from the door behind me. Logan and me were left facing each other, and it was clear from the way he crossed his arms and the look on his smug face, that the next move had to be mine.

Have no idea how long it took me to walk towards him, until I was right there in front of Logan, my body held taut barely centimeters away from his. And then something in his eyes, and the way he licked his lips, propelled me to rise to the tip of my toes.

I couldn’t have closed my eyes if I’d tried. It started slow, tentative, exploring. Wolverine’s mouth was softer than it looked, the stubble on his cheeks burning into my clean-shaven skin in stark contrast to the heat melting against my lips. At first, he just stared at me, not moving, not reacting. I planted a close-mouthed kiss on his lips, once, twice, a few more times. Getting bolder with every kiss, I pressed in closer to his broad frame, raising my hands to grip his forearms tight. I looked into his eyes gravely one more time before I let my tongue out to lick at his lips and he started. A shiver rose up my own spine when suddenly those lips started to move against mine, and that’s when my eyes fell closed on their own.

The world was spinning around me and I held on to his biceps harder for support. Logan’s lips parted, and before I could act, his tongue pushed its way into me hungrily, our mouths crashing into each other with brutal vehemence. One large hand settled itself in the small of my back, pushing me closer into him, the other hand rose up to cup the back of my head. My first thought was one of reflexive panic, feeling trapped in the circle of Logan’s arms, caught in this feral kiss that I initiated but no longer controlled. By God, that tongue knew what it was doing, and it didn’t matter that I’d never kissed a man before (not willingly at least), it felt familiar and comfortable, like we’d been doing this forever. Like this is exactly how it was supposed to be.

I forgot where we were, forgot why I was doing this and didn’t care how wrong or right it was supposed to be, nothing mattered but the furious surge of passion that zipped through my blood and caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand to attention. My fingernails dug into the bare skin of Logan’s arms but he didn’t seem to care. Don’t know how long it lasted, that kiss, and I really couldn’t care less, that is until Logan’s hands started to move.

The fingers buried in my hair moved back and forth to ruffle and scratch my scalp, almost in harmony with his tongue that continued to ravish my mouth. And the hand on my back started to roam, downwards.

It was when the strong, stout fingers brushed against the cleft of my butt that my eyes sprang open. I trembled, all my senses suddenly crashing back to earth when the hand moved down further. Next thing I knew, Logan had his hand splayed wide across my ass, holding me captive in his palm, and pushing my groin into his rock hard erection. Hard.

// Once a whore… //

I whimpered into his mouth, not prepared for the panic attack that seized me out of the blue. Part of me struggled to relax, and remind me that I was aroused too. But my said erection was steadily going soft as the panic spread faster, paralyzing my limbs and my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I also couldn’t refuse Logan because I was the one who started this after all, and still needed him to come with me to New York.

I thought I could do this, but I couldn’t… dear God, I just couldn’t…

Logan froze, and slowly peeled himself away from me. I closed my eyes tight, not wanting to see the questions, the anger and the derision in his eyes, not wanting him to see the terror, the mortification in mine.

Please… Please…. Please…

“It’s okay.”

His voice was gruff and guttural, but I could hear his disappointment loud and clear. Logan turned away from me the moment I dared to open my eyes. All I could see was the heaving of his shoulders and his hands balled into tight fists by his sides.

“I… I’m…”

“Go wait in the truck.”

It didn’t occur to me to argue or protest being ordered around, I just turned on my heels and ran. Grabbed my jacket off the table and rushed out of the diner to get into Logan’s truck. Once there I curled up on myself, resting against the jammed door and tightly clenched my eyes shut. Hid my face in my hands and shook myself apart, burning up from inside out – with fear, with anger, with humiliation, with frustration and defeat and pain… years and years of helplessness and pain.

But truth be told, the tears I shed that day were purely of relief, and nothing else.

***

A/N: Pls let me know what you think, could use a little encouragement to help me finish this series ;)

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  • 1
Thank you so much hon :) *hugs back* Will try to update soon!

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