The Streets

Authors note: Sorry that this took so long. Life's been full off challenges to say the least. It may take a bit to get the next chapters done, but I've got several written and just need to edit them.









The kid managed to avoid him other than odd bumps in the hall for a whole three weeks. That was until he got full back into active duty and the team had to practice together.



Then he ate dirt. A lot. The kid had learned more tricks, and Remy had never been one to fight clean to start with. Plus they’d never used powers before in sparring and he quickly found there was a lot of punch to those firecracker looking pink cards the kid tossed around.



He was wholly sick of getting tossed on his ass for the entire work out. The whole team was deeply amused at his expense. Even Marie had a deep glint of humour in her eyes that over stripped the worry in her expression, tipping it into amusement rather than the concern that she’d normally reserve for him. Usually he was the one handing out this shit, not taking it.



So the next time the Cajun whipped a card at him he ducked it and charged at him with single minded intent. The kid ended up clipping him hard in the ear with a staff he’d been handling recently with a lot more expertise than he remembered him having a year ago, but it didn’t slow him. He hit the kid hard in the gut with his shoulder, tearing a good grunt out of the kid as he smucked on top of him with all the weight that his metal enforced skeleton could give him.



It took a while for him to realize that everyone had stopped and was staring at him. “What?” He glanced down at Remy to be sure, but it wasn’t like he’d really hurt him. Sure the kid definitely had a dazed look to go with the good lump on the back of his head and was gasping like a fish to get the air back in his lungs. Really out of this they should remember that he’d not even drawn blood for God’s sake. That was restraint.



“This exercise was for finesse Logan, not brute force. We aren’t supposed to be injuring each other.” Storm was giving him one of those looks, which just irritated him even more. And Marie was knelt beside the kid, making some sort of cooing noises of sympathy as she brushed the kid’s hair out of the way to check the bump. The only one who didn’t seem inclined to be giving him a glare was Remy. For someone who’d been hell bent on smacking him around for the past half hour he was strangely remote, acting as if he wasn’t even in the same room with him, not even casting a glance his way.

Which irked really more than it should have.



‘Ro dismissed the team, sending Remy down to the infirmary to have his head checked, Marie still hanging off the kid like a Christmas ornament. He’d grumbled to himself, written it off as a bad day, and drowned his frustration in a case of beer.



Until the same God damned thing happened every day for a whole week. By Friday he was getting well beyond irritated and into a frame of mind where he wondered if they’d mind so much if he used the Cajun as a chew toy. ‘Ro must have seen the murder in his eye a minute before mayhem broke loose and called to an end of the day. He knew there was a problem when she excused the entire team except Remy and him. The brief flash of surprise and supreme irritation that flitted over the kids face before his mask slipped up was almost worth the last dunt Remy had given him over his head with that damned stick.



She proceeded to give them some long yabbery lecture about how they needed to work as a team and how animosity could weaken them and he was seriously wondering just how much of one-eye had rubbed off on her when she handed them down her solution. They were to spend the next week together joined at the hip till they figured shit out. He was about to protest it, but the kid beat him to it, yapping off in a mix of English and his Cajun patios that was impressively spattered with explicatives that he wasn’t sure that even he could have thought up.



It didn’t work of course. ‘Ro was like that. Gentle most the time. Hard assed and stubborn as hell the rest of it. Women worked that way. Seemed like the Cajun hadn’t quite figured that out. He argued till she added in that they had to bunk in the same room and offered even more time if he didn’t shut up. Kid finally did at that, and even though he personally wasn’t overly thrilled with the whole idea, he accepted it without complaint as it was pretty perfect revenge as the kid obviously hated it.



Sides which...maybe he’d get an idea of exactly where this whole thing with Marie and him was going. Wasn’t like the kid was going to be able to be having any secret rendezvous with her if the Cajun was bunked on his floor. During the whole hashing out of arrangements Remy just plain ignored the fact that he was there, focusing all of his attention to ‘Ro. He was starting to feel pretty damn superfluous by the time they finally were sent out, ‘Ro pressing her temples like she had a good headache coming on.



He was going to have his own in a short time if the way the kid stomped up the hall to gather his belongings was any indication.



Marie was waiting at the kid’s door and seemed surprised to see them both and a little hurt when Remy ignored her, slipping past to throw a bag of his stuff together with more force than necessary. He explained it to her while the kid was busy having his tantrum and she gave them both a wide eyed look of concern that set off warning bells in his head. With a last long look at her boyfriend’s back she left them to their duty, leaving him to watch the kid pack.



****



This was fantastic. For the first time in months he actually was inches away from just taking his shit and leaving. In fact, he wasn’t so damn sure what was really stopping him. He’d done just fine in keeping himself away from Logan. Now, he had to practically crawl up his ass.



He muttered away to himself, maligning Logan’s parentage in inventive language – all in creole, not because he didn’t want Logan to understand him but rather because he thought it’d probably piss Logan off more if he couldn’t understand what he was saying. Despite that he still had the odd feeling that Logan maybe half understood him despite the lack of commentary on it. They’d brought a cot in for him, since bringing in an additional bed for just a week wouldn’t be practical. Logan also already had a queen sized bed rather than the standard singles that the school had so there wasn’t a ton of room left. How the hell he managed that he’d like to know. Maybe it was a staff thing – Stormy’s bed was large too, but then she’d been there from the beginning and had the whole loft to herself.



Logan was keeping to himself, readying for bed in a brisk manner that didn’t include him but didn’t make him feel ignored either. Not that it really mattered, because like hell was he talking to him. He fluffed the pillow viciously and flopped down, uncaring of the fact that he was still in the clothes that he’d worn all day. Changing meant he had to tromp down the hall to go to the main washroom and change there, or he’d have to use Logan’s. And while he knew eventually he’d have to do one or the other, he wasn’t ready to concede yet.



The rustlings on the other side of the room died off into slow and easy breathing, but the lights were still on. He waited a good long while, but nothing happened. Frowning, he lifted his head and risked a small peek, irritated that Logan expected him to get up and turn the lights off. He was surprised to see that he wasn’t sleeping however – Logan was sat on the foot of his bed, legs crossed, palms resting upturned on his knees. Frowning deeper, he propped himself right up onto his elbow, staring rudely at him. Logan’s eyes were shut though, and he paid him no notice.



Eventually he got tired of just staring and wondering what the hell had gotten into Logan, so he eased himself back down on the cot and looked around the room. It was fairly spartan, the paint still the unimaginative light taupe that graced the other unclaimed rooms, simple wooden blinds in place with no softening of a curtain around them. There were a few things that marked the room as his though. A sword of some sort. A few pictures. A chunk of driftwood sat on top of the chest of drawers, looking almost carved the way that it twisted up and around on itself but it had the smooth randomness that only nature could have provided.



A change in breathing alerted him a second before Logan’s foot stepped down on the bare floor, standing half facing him as he rolled his head from side to side, stretched out the kinks from his long stillness.



He was still pissed off at Logan. He really was. And he really wanted to continue ignoring him, but he’d always been too curious for his own good. “What d’ hell was dat? Y’ sayin’ y’re goodnight prayers?”



Logan arched a brow at him. “You actually talking to me now?”



Well shit. Glaring at him he flopped onto his back. “You’re an asshole, y’ know dat?”

And the jerk laughed. Laughed! He wanted to chuck something at him, or call another sparring session just so he could break his nose or something, but he wasn’t eager for Stormy to extend this punishment either.



“I was meditating.” Some of the smile had gone out of Logan’s voice, but there was still a thread of amusement there, well buried in the warm gravel tones of it. “Though I’m curious to know how that makes me an asshole.”



He just snorted, rolling on his side in pointed non-answer. After a few heavy minutes where he could feel eyes burning in his back Logan turned the light off and silence reined.



***



Five days. He’d thought at first he’d go insane and he was still chafing hard under the forced contact, but it was only a couple of more till he was free. He’d managed to keep his silence too, which was frustrating everyone and gave him a sense of childish gratification. Marie was had graduated from giving him worried looks to slightly annoyed ones, while Stormy’s were flat out irritated. No doubt they’d thought this would have Logan and him swilling beers together by the second night.



Oddly the only one that didn’t seem offset by it was Logan, who tolerated his presence with a stoic nature that surprised everyone. Not that Logan was ignoring him. No, he held doors open and made room for him at the table. Passed him things at dinner that he couldn’t reach without having to ask for them. It was damn creepy, really. And every night he’d sit at the tail of his bed and just breathe quietly for about an hour and then it was lights off. In the morning, Logan would rise early, lifting the blinds open to wake him and head for the shower first, leaving him an extra precious few minutes in bed before he had to pick up the morning routine.



He was getting used to it. Comfortable in the routine in a way he felt resentful about.

Which was why he was confused and felt disjointed when he awoke to a noise in the dark. A quick check at the glowing face of the clock showed it to be sometime just after three. Discovering that small fact made him want to groan and toss his pillow over his head. But a small noise turned him back towards the bed again, brow furrowing in concentration as he stared intently into the deep grey tones of the room at the darker blackness that made up Logan’s bed. It took him a long while, listening with his own breathing sounding overly loud in his ears to realize what he was hearing – low groans and small sounds of distress. Logan was having a dream.



No. A nightmare. The very fact seemed so divergent from the man he knew – fearless, gruff, growling Logan - that he was on his feet and padding towards the bed without a second thought. Logan being afraid of something was kind of like being told that Mother Teresa was a crack whore.



Still, there wasn’t much else it could be. He could see though the dim light from the moon coming through the blinds that Logan was jerking around in his bed sheets like they were fetters, his brow shined dulling with sweat, more of the same running over the cords of his throa...wait. He wasn’t going to think like that anymore, right? He was pissed at this guy. Pissed. Right.



Logan finally stilled after a long time, settling into a more normal sleep pattern. Feeling like a voyeur, he took a step back to his cot, a traitorous board squeaking lightly under his bare foot. He very nearly literally had the shit frightened from him when Logan lunged suddenly off the bed, taking him down in a tussle of bed sheets. His head cracked painfully on the floor, the room suddenly swimming dizzily around him. Logan abruptly froze half way through throttling him, which he took to mean that he was now awake. Which was great ‘cause he didn’t really feel the need to become Logan’s newest scratch post. It reminded him of that day back in practice in a way that would be funnier if he wasn’t the one getting tromped. Still all that didn’t mean he could breathe, even with the hand relaxed on his throat. What the hell did that guy eat to be able to weigh that much to squish him like this?



Drawing a fist back he gave a jab at Logan’s ribs, but without any bruising force behind it. “GetoffIcan’tbreathe.” He was glad that Logan listened to his request, heaved out as it was on the one last remnant of breath that was left in his lungs. He would have been screwed otherwise. Sweet air flooded down his throat, and he spent just a few moments breathing, before pushing himself up. “Dieu, what do y’ weigh? Five hundred pounds?”



“Somethin’ close to that, yeah.” The light flicked on, making him blink painfully until his eyes adjusted. “What the hell were you doing kid? You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you.”



A snort of disagreement came rumbling out of him before he could stop it, as he rubbed at the rapidly swelling knot at the back of his head. He propped up on one arm, sitting still till he could get his bearings. “What d’ y’ mean? I wasn’t expectin’ y’ t’ go an’ tackle me for jus’ bein’ outta bed. Y’d make one hell of a parent like dat.”



“Ha ha.” Logan returned dryly. “You’re not my kid, Cajun. I didn’t expect you to be up is all. I usually am pretty aware of what’s in a room and going on around me, even asleep. Didn’t expect you to be popping up by the foot of my bed.”



“I didn’t ‘pop up’.” He felt a slight bit of embarrassment at that. He wasn’t spying on Logan. Not exactly. “What am I supposed t’ do if I have t’ piss?” He glanced over at Logan where he was untangling the sheet and trying to figure out which end went towards the head of the bed.



“You piss. I hear you get up, you go and come back. How the hell you got up and over here that far without me knowing about it is what I can’t figure out.”



It dawned on him that Logan either wasn’t aware of his own dream, or was pointedly not bringing it up. “Y’ listen all d’ time when y’re asleep?” That kinda was creepy. It made him feel off balance, so the next words spilled off his tongue without a thought to consequences. “What if y’re havin’ a nightmare?” He had to fight the urge to pull back as Logan’s attention suddenly was directed entirely towards him with a surprising intensity.



“What the hell do you mean, ‘nightmare’?” It suddenly occurred to him that he’d blown his whole vow of silence thing he’d had going on to shreds. He mulled over the thought of going mulelishly silent at this point, but with the look Logan was giving him, he figured that may not be an option at this point.



“Y’ were dreamin’. Makin’ some noises.” And because he’d already screwed up, and his curiosity was strong, he figured he wasn’t going to sink himself with a few more words. “I heard you. Sounded like somethin’ was...bad.” He trailed off with the lack of a better word.



“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” Logan turned his back to him and he took the privacy that afforded to get to his feet. Twisting his pyjama pants back around so that the seam wasn’t pointing off somewhere to the left anymore, he hissed a little as he felt the burn of abraded skin over his upper back, craning his head over his shoulder to see how big of a patch it was. At his noise Logan turned again, mouth screwing to the side. “What is it? I bruise you up bad?”



“No.” He said it disdainfully, hoping Logan would leave it at that, but all he got was an eye roll in return and a firm hand to his bare shoulder, spinning him around so that Logan could have a firsthand view of it.



“Well that probably stings like a bitch, but yeah it’s not gonna scar or anything. Could be worse. I’ve got some cream you can put on that. Gimme a second.”



No choice given to him, he stood there waiting till Logan returned with a tube and then smeared gobs of the cold slop on his back. “What d’ hell d’ y’ have t’ be scared about anyways?” He said it to keep the attention off of him, but nearly regretted it as the fingers stopped moving, resting for an unbreathing second over his right kidney.



“You’d be surprised kid.” He turned to watch Logan returning to the bathroom, the gurgle of water sounding as he washed his hand off, leaving him to his own thoughts for a moment. Returning to his cot, he laid down, not feeling particularly sleepy. Whatever he dreamed about, it had to be bad to shake Logan. And it had shaken him, he could tell, which was something he supposed. Forced daily contact was allowing him to read Logan a lot better. Logan didn’t say much of anything whenever something got to him but there was that certain half swallowed sound to Logan’s answer that spoke louder than words. Drawing his blanket up over him, he watched Logan’s shadow move on the open bathroom door, till that light was shut off too. He turned his head too late as Logan exited and he caught him watching again.



“You sure you ok kid?” The tone was kind, especially for Logan, and he hated it.



“For fuck’s sake, will y’ quit dat!” Logan’s eyebrows jerked back up in response to his yell, folding his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorway, a posture which mimicked an indulgent parent’s just a little too much for him. “I’m not a fuckin’ kid. Y’re always callin’ me dat. I get it. Y’ think I’m some poor street kid dat needs coddlin’. I’m fine? Got it?”



Logan blinked in response and then scratched his forehead. “So that’s what all this is about? Me calling you kid all the time?”



“No.” Merde. Cause now he did sound like a whiny kid. “Dis is about y’ bein’ a prick.” Oh. Yeah. Much better, LeBeau. How he’d managed to cram both feet this far down his throat in a single moment was beyond him.



“Well, I know you aren’t a kid, if it makes a difference. Never counted you as one. It’s just...I’m a helluva lot older that you, so it’s a habit.”



He threw Logan a dirty look. Ok, so he was fucking this up royally, but he still didn’t want shit served up on silver. “Yeah. Cause y’re ancient.” Sarcasm dripped off every syllable. “Y’re what? Thirty at most?”



The look he got was inscrutable. “Actually I dunno. At least in my sixties though. The memories I’ve got start in the nineteen-sixies, and I looked like this then.” And ok, what did you really say to that. So he just sat and stared back at Logan for a long time.



“Well, shit. Y’re lookin’ good, grandpa.” There was a moment there when he wasn’t sure if Logan was going to take that with the humour he’d intended and then the tension broke, leaving Logan choking off a small bit of laughter, mindful of the other sleeping members of the household.



“Go to sleep you brat.” A spare pillow struck him squarely in the face as Logan climbed into bed.



***



When morning had returned the kid had clammed up a bit again, but without the pointed silence that he’d held before. That and the fact that Remy hadn’t tried to slam his head in the kitchen’s swinging door that morning were things that he had taken as a sign that a truce was in the making. He’d never been quite sure before why Remy had such a chip on his shoulder, but he’d not thought the ‘kid’ thing had factored in as high as it did. He’d chalked things up before to that the Cajun had been pissed that he’d been turned down, but now in hindsight that didn’t make sense. Remy, for all his abundant and often irritating faults, wasn’t one to hold a grudge over things like that. As he watched with that new awareness though, he found that any sort of perceived mothering or preference was met with the kid’s fierce refusal.



Team practice had went well also; sure he got tossed a couple of times by Remy but no more than the he tossed the kid back, or for that matter how many the kid tossed others. ‘Ro had this cat that ate the canary look on her face after the practice that he’d given a dry look too, but had to admit he shared her happiness that the issue had been resolved. Or at least as much as it was likely to get resolved.



Everything went to pretty much business as usual once ‘Ro had declared their time over – only he hadn’t counted on one thing – Remy’s avoiding of him had kept him more out of his sight up till now. The school was close quartered and he’d never been so conscious before of that fact. He had all these snapshots in his head: the sight of the kid laughing over his cheerio’s, flicking one across the table at Kitty; Remy clustered with a bunch of others in the hallway, talking about the day’s events, his free arm looped around Marie; the way that he slumped into the couch, one fine boned hand sprawled across his stomach as he watched movies with everyone.



All in all, it was just reaffirming all the things that he’d felt while he was away. He was becoming hyper-aware of the kid, watching covertly as he went through the daily movements of life. The warm scent of him was always in his nostrils; from faint whiffs around areas that he had passed through hours ago, to strong enough to practically make his mouth water as they worked out together in the gym.



It was an itch he couldn’t scratch and it was slowly driving him insane. So he went to a cheap bar and picked up some willing woman with bottle blonde hair and a smile that tickled his fancy. He’d come back, finally sated and glad of it, until the minute he’d literally run smack into Remy in the hallway. He gave a quickly stuttered apology and high-tailed it out of there, leaving the Cajun looking after him in a bewildered way. A furious jack off session later and he’d been left swearing quietly with his forehead pressed to the cold tile of the shower wall, wondering what the hell that he should do now.