Wicked Game

disclaimer: I don't own the x-men



“What’s with the grin, man?”

Logan flinched slightly. He wasn’t aware that he was grinning, and he sure as hell hadn’t even noticed Scott being present, he’d just let his thoughts wander and … He cleared his throat, if it was one thing he was uncomfortable with, it was being caught off guard. Not necessarily caught in the act, but caught in the act as in daydreaming. Having Scott eyeing him with an amused look on his face was another thing he wasn’t too fond of. In fact it made his skin itch with the immediate need to wipe away that smug, model perfect smile off of his face with a fist.

“Leave it, bub”, he answered with a sweet voice, putting a lot of warning into it at the same time. He walked past Scott and grabbed another beer from the fridge. He felt a sudden urge to run away, to hide, to get away from everything and everyone, and every stupid question and demand that had been asked and made of him during the day. To forget about it, to get drunk, to be alone and erase the traces of flowers and salt that were still clinging to his mind like glue. He had to suppress the yearning to feed that spark, to keep what wasn’t even his in the first place. Keep Wolverine from breaking the rules. What rules? Whose rules? He wanted to run like hell, fighting for the next breath, and the next, and the next. But he was still in the kitchen, with a cold beer, on his way to safety.

“Sorry for asking, wolf-boy”, Scott replied, and folded his arms across the chest. “You know, you still owe me money for using my bike, I had to get it freshened up after your little … adventure. Or should I say, latest?”

“You will, and it wasn’t an adventure.”

Scott clicked his tongue. ”You’re splitting hairs, Logan, and you cannot fool me. Don’t forget I know Jean better than you want to believe.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Scott spread his hands wide. “Nothing. She talks, we talk. A lot actually, since you are absent a lot and also seem to be off on business every now and then. She used to be my girl, if you haven’t forgotten.”

Logan frowned at Scott. “You implying something pretty face?”

“Are you? Am I? You tell me. Anyway, just write me a check or whatever.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Logan opened the beer and nearly emptied it. “By the way …”

“What?”

Logan lowered his voice as he spoke. “What do you know about them?” He glanced past Scott’s shoulder, nodding in the direction of the living room.

“Who are you talking about?”

“That guy that keeps walking around the school, flaunting his oh so massive tattoo, and that woman he seems to know, a feral eyed one. You know ‘em?”

“Oh that one, yeah I know who you mean. But no, I can’t say that I know either of them, I’ve just had her brushing up against me a couple of times. She doesn’t seem to be all that chatty though.” Scott made a small gesture, looking awkwardly uncomfortable.

Logan arched an eyebrow at him. “Ye’re telling me you haven’t thought about fucking her, or should I say her fucking you, Scooter?” he mocked.

Scott glared angrily at him in return but didn’t say anything.

“There’s something about him, and her, that is disturbing. Can’t put my claw on it, I don’t know, man, I just don’t know”, Logan continued.

“You don’t trust them, right? I don’t either, well at least not yet. Jean and Ro seem fascinated by them though, from what I hear.”

“So do ye have any info on them, that guy, says his name’s Naja, but what is he all about?” Logan finished the beer and opened the fridge to get a third bottle. “Want one?” he said and tossed it at Scott. “Nothing like a cold beer on a hot summer’s day like this. Helps me thinking.”

“I’ve heard a little about his ability,” Scott said and grimaced slightly and opened the beer, “Jean says he’s a shape shifter, among other things.”

Logan snorted. “And I’ll bet ye on that money I owe ye that it has something to do with the tattoo.”

Scott nodded. “Yup, he’s one of them reptile creatures.”

“Wait, lemme guess, it’s a snake?”

“Yup again.”

“Well, gee, lemme guess again, a cobra right?” Logan chuckled, smoothing his chin. He hadn’t had the time to shave, not that he intended to get rid of his signature muttonchops, or even change the hairdo, hell no, but still. Jean had tried to get to him for a long time about it, said she preferred her men with a little less facial hair. Well too bad for her, he liked the way he looked, and if it didn’t please her … well, he wouldn’t change for her. No way, no fuckin’ way. Other women never complained about it, in fact some of them seemed to actually like it, maybe even fancying him. Someone that might even love him, oh well, he didn’t know about that. Wishful thinking, perhaps. Jean said she loved him, but he’d begun question himself about that love lately. Dark thoughts they were, but he couldn’t find it in him to feel sorry or angry about it. You know what it is … Logan could hear the faint echo of Xavier’s voice in his head. He knew what Charles had been talking about, but never let the thought come to life, pushing it to the deepest and most secret place inside of his mind, and locking it up was the only thing he could do. The right thing. It had to be the right thing. Had to. Logan shook his head, felt the muscles in his jaw ache, he’d gotten distracted again, letting the mind wander.

Scott eyed him cautiously. “You got lost again”, he said, voice casual. They weren’t exactly best buddies, compromise was the word for the day, as every other day for the two of them.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a sorta busy day”, Logan mumbled. He wasn’t about to confide in Cyclops. Sharing wasn’t something he was good at, and especially not with men like Scott. Sharing could be dangerous, and being vulnerable was an absolute no-no for Logan. He always tried to minimize his feelings outwards as much as possible. He was the Wolverine. A merciless cage fighter.

“Okay, well, thanks for the beer. I’ve gotta go, so … ”

“Yeah, no problem. You’ll get your money tomorrow or so, don’t think I’ve got some cash on me at the moment.”

“Hey Scotty!”

Logan and Scott simultaneously turned around to find Jubilation Lee, dressed in a pair of pathetically short, pink hot pants and a matching, slim, hooded sweater to go with it. The whole thing reminded Logan of something he’d seen Jennifer Lopez wear in one of her videos, although he couldn’t remember which one. Jubilee seemed to enjoy Scott’s obvious enthusiastic reaction to her as she flashed him a smile. All friendly smiles for Scotty and icy looks for Uncle Logan, Logan thought dryly.

“Hi Jubes, what’s up? Nice outfit you got there” Scott said and gave Jubilee a hug, smiling down at her. A little too appreciatively, Logan registered, not entirely able to suppress a grin. So he had the hots not only for Kitty but for Jubes too? Well, that was a piece of info that might come in handy at some point later on, Logan noted and decided as he curiously studied Scott and Jubilee.

She shrugged and pouted slightly. “Oh, not much. Wanna go for a stroll? I’m sorta bored, you know Kitty is outta town, and Rogue,” she shot Logan an unfriendly look, “she’s not feeling well, if you haven’t heard.”

Logan frowned at her, crossing his arms. “What’s with the cold looks, Jubes?” he inquired, arching an eyebrow. Oh, he knew alright.

Jubilee placed her hands on her hips, eyeing him intently. “Cold looks? Now where’d ya get that idea?”

Logan began telling her he wouldn’t stand there and take her unspoken accusations, but changed his mind and scowled at her instead.

She narrowed her eyes for a second, obviously not pleased with his reaction, before giving Scott her full attention. “Shall we?” she said cheerfully, and then glanced over her shoulder giving Logan a look that said ‘I’m not done with you yet … bastard’.

When Scott and Jubilee had left, Logan slammed his fists into the counter as hard as he could. He growled and cursed under his breath, he was so angry he quivered. He pounded his right fist down a second time, and a third, and again, and again. Leaving bloody imprints on the counter, he fled the room.

~'~'~'~'~'~

He was running. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring people calling after him, calling his name, telling his to wait, to stop. They whirled and flowed like watercolours, their voices, screaming, shouting, begging and pleading for him to slow down and come back. Where was he going? Where? When was he coming back? Wolverine didn’t care, he couldn’t care less for questions like that, because they meant nothing. Oblivion. There was nothing and everything, untouchable. Unbreakable. He was real. Was he? Are you for real? Am I? The world rushed past him, as he darted through the woods, crossing paths and streams. He ran, his feet ran at the speed of sound, it seemed. He felt nothing, and yet he stumbled, fell and got up and kept running. Trying not to feel was hard, and he wanted to be that - empty, relentless. Careless. Hate was better, and there was plenty of that to be found, it rose up with the power of a tidal wave, pouring out of him in every direction. Wolverine didn’t fight it, he welcomed it, embraced it like a lover, and howled until his lungs hurt.

Then there was nothing.