Underground Shenanigans

Nightcrawler tightened the anchoring coil of his tail on the ceiling bar. (He broke a chandelier one too many and Professor Xavier adapted. All of the ceilings in the public areas of the Mansion were upgraded with catch holds after the umpteenth time it got demolished as collateral damage in a grand epic battle.) Satisfied that he wasn't going to be dropping away from the ceiling without his say so, could put his full attention to towards the opening credits of the first film up on his “Kelly and Kelly” marathon. Gene Kelly. Grace Kelly. Screen legends, back to back to back to back. He hugged himself; this Saturday was going to be fabulous!

 

And just to make sure that nobody was going to interrupt his little euphoric entertainment bubble, he'd even bamfed around this one room multiple times. He was very sure that it was more than enough deterrent for anybody without a cold stuffing up their noses. People with colds weren't going to be wandering around anyway, in his estimation.

 

He unfortunately didn't take into account telepaths.

 

“Kurt?” Frost's voice pinged in his mind.

 

“No. No, no, no- I don't hear any explosions, screaming, structural damage, OR Magneto laughing. There is no emergency and I am not to be bothered!” he protested.

 

“I'm very sorry,” Frost ignored Kurt's mental snort of disbelief. “But Scott requires your immediate presence. Even if it's not an emergency.”

 

The presence in his head faded.

 

Kurt clicked the screen off and sighed. Fine, he'll go and since it wasn't an emergency, it shouldn't take up the whole day. He was going to take his popcorn too. No sense in letting it go cold.

 

When he arrived, it quickly dawned on him that it didn't look like it wasn't an “emergency”. Some veins were sticking out alarmingly on Scott's neck. Logan met his gaze briefly in greeting and he resumed smoking his cigar. Logan's posture was even more oppositional than usual around Scott. That sent a flare of unease through Kurt.

 

“Will there be others, or is it just us?”

 

“Just you and Logan.”

 

“...Oh,” Kurt's tail did a fiddly coiling and uncoiling. “Um. Well. It wasn't our fault. Complete accident, even.”

 

Scott's visor managed to communicate confusion while Logan coughed with amusement.

 

“What? No, Kurt, you aren't in trouble for anything.”

 

“Really? That's good,” Kurt smiled with relief. “Would you like some popcorn?”

 

“No. Thank you.”

 

Scott had somehow managed to get even more tense after hearing that Kurt or Logan or BOTH had managed to do something that Kurt was feeling guilty about on top of Kurt trying to distract him from that realization with popcorn of all things.

 

“This is the last week of March,” Scott announced. “We have been so occupied that none of us paid any attention. And this may be the last chance.”

 

He made a portentous pause.

 

“Last chance? For what? You aren't being very clear at all!” Kurt was starting to get really exasperated with the mystery.

 

“April Fool's Day,” Logan supplied. “He means that this is our last chance to preempt.”

 

“Why would we want to do that? The children wouldn't do anything too outrageous-”

 

“Not the kids, Elf.”

 

“Bobby,” Scott usually reserved that tone of voice for naming villains on the level of Mr. Sinister or Doctor Doom.

 

“This year's going to be a doozy,” Logan reluctantly agreed to Scott's point.

 

“Bobby? This has all to do with Bobby?” Kurt crossed his arms, incredulous.

 

“This year, he's managed to get his hands on one of Magneto's helmets. Now nobody is safe.”

 

Kurt's tail froze in midair for the moment he took to digest this new, improbable addition to the absurdity of it all.

 

“...I cannot believe that I'm missing “Singing In the Rain” for this!” Kurt finally shouted. “Scott, if Emma's so very concerned about shoe polish in her shampoo or itching powder or whoopee cushions, she can surely take a one day sabbatical!”

 

And buy herself a sense of humor, Kurt added in his head.

 

“Slim's making a unilateral decision to divert X-Men resources towards this mission,” Logan was very obviously amused by Kurt's uncooperative stance. “Namely, you.”

 

Serves Slim right, he thought. He'd told Scott already that Kurt was simply never happy about missing his movies. But does Slim take any of his actual knowledge as advice? No. He made a gesture with a hand and Kurt passed the popcorn bucket to him.

 

“I've made extensive review of the subterranean levels,” Scott's voice was verging on placating this time.

 

Not going to happen, was the message Kurt's tail swishing broadcast.

 

“I've narrowed down likely locations of his stash,” Scott pulled up a holographic projection of the X-Mansion's blueprints.

 

“Then you can go yourself,” Kurt very reasonably pointed out. “Unless you are suffering some sort of leg injury. And even then, you could borrow one of Professor’s spare wheelchairs.”

 

Logan shoved more popcorn into his mouth. He'd actually never had to see Scott running up against Kurt's wall before. Kurt was just so... Kurt, that when he finally did get upset and obstinate, nobody ever expected it or knew what to do.

 

“You can go through all the locations more efficiently.”

 

“Call in Northstar, then, if you want speed.”

 

“He's not trained for recon-style operations.”

 

“Gambit.”

 

“Would be more likely to sit back and watch the mayhem or even participate than prevent it.”

 

“X-23 can do it. Better, she doesn't have much of a sense of humor either.”

 

“That means she wouldn't know what pranking paraphernalia looks like in the first place.”

 

They went back and forth like this, long enough for Logan to get to the bottom of the popcorn bucket. Kurt had a really impressive roster of every single field capable operative the X-team had or knew in memory. Which would make total sense, seeing as he's an actual field leader when Scott bothered to assign him teams to lead.

 

“You can confiscate ALL of the Cocoa Puffs, Twinkies and Reeses Pieces in this mansion as collateral and MAKE Bobby reveal his stash in exchange!”

 

“All right, that's it! You and Logan are now in trouble for what you did and this is your punishment,” Scott finally snapped.

 

“...Noooo, because you don't actually know what happened!”

 

“But you admit that you did do something!”

 

“Not conclusively and Logan never said anything to collaborate so you don't have anything! I refuse to be punished when the one assigning the punishment doesn't know what did or did not happen!”

 

Logan could actually hear Scott's teeth grinding. He lit a fresh cigar.

 

“Kurt-”

 

Scott went still for a suspicious moment. Calculating.

 

“Kurt. I'll give you tickets to the next Berlinale, no interruptions for the entire course of the film festival, if you do this one thing.”

 

Kurt's eyes widened for a beat.

 

“...Really?”

 

“Yes, Kurt.”

 

Kurt's tail-spade rollercoastering in the air was a total tell, Logan snorted. He was giddy from the prospect of getting his hands on tickets.

 

“Okay. Thank you very much for the tickets, Scott,” Kurt's biggest grin flashed out at Scott. “I'll change into uniform and we'll get started right away!”

* bamf*

 

“You'll be working on this end with him,” Scott turned to Logan.

 

“Yeah, yeah, Slim,” Logan walked over to a console and putting a comm headset on. “Nobody's having fun today. Not on your watch.”

 

“...I'll get you a six-pack while you're here, how about that?” Scott was worn out of any further arguing.

 

He hadn't thought that Kurt was resolved on naming literally everybody possible instead of himself for the job.

 

“So no fancy-shmancy tickets for me, huh? Like for the Stanley Cup?” Logan deadpanned.

 

Scott's jaw clenched one last time from annoyance and he walked out of the room.

 

Kurt bamfed back, they set up the desired comm frequency, Kurt locked on to the first coordinates, and bamfed out.

 

“Okay, Elf, what do you see?” Logan finally asked.

 

“This is a very scenic dead end. Typical examples of native Westchester bedrock, some fascinating examples of modern plumbing and oooh, look, industrial railings!” Kurt's voice had an echo.

 

Logan smirked at Scott, who had returned with the beer just in time to hear Kurt's too sarcastic report. Scott didn't acknowledge the smirk as he put the beer down and left the room.

 

“Hey, Elf? I could give you the next coordinates and you can go from your current position, right? That way, the both of us get out of this quicker,” Logan suggested.

 

“Copy that. Good idea.”

 

The next coordinates were sent out. Logan heard the bamf.

 

“...OH!”

 

“Elf?”

 

“Bats. They found this place for roosting and- EW! I just stepped in-”

 

Logan quickly sent over the next set of coordinates. He didn't want Kurt down there dealing with more guano than necessary.

 

*bamf * “EW EW EW-”

 

“What are you in this time?”

 

“Nothing! Just-”

 

Logan opened a beer and took a drink while Kurt composed himself.

 

“You okay, now?”

 

“Yes. Yes, I am. Now we have... Um.”

 

“Um? Elf, that's not intel.”

 

“Logan? Can you give me the coordinates to the first dead end? Please? I'm really not comfortable right now. Please.”

 

Mystified, Logan gave him that and he heard another bamf.

 

“The hell, Elf? Come on, here.”

 

“That was a den of inequity, Logan,” Kurt's voice managed to be very prim despite the echoing.

 

“A what of whosit? Elf-”

 

“There was pornography, copy that? All over the walls and the ceiling and- a mattress that stank of- of- I don't want to think- and-”

 

Logan sat up.

 

“Porn? Like, skin mag centerfolds? All over the walls and the ceiling?”

 

“Why am I not surprised that you'd be enthused about that?”

 

“Hey. That's the best discovery we found all day, Kurt. Was it any good?”

 

“How would I know?”

 

“I don't need to remind you that you aren't actually a priest, Kurt.”

 

“Seeing as I don't know what encompasses “good” when it comes to pornography of any sort because I do not make a habit of pornography consumption, I can't objectively say, now, can I?”

 

“Kurt, it's funny when you do that to Slim. You don't get to do that to me.”

 

“What? What's that? The sound of me not caring? I do believe it is!”

 

“Fine, fine,” Logan threw up his hands. “I'll go down there myself later to find out.”

 

The next set of coordinates put Kurt in a tunnel.

 

“Well, this calls for some actual investigating,” Kurt began wall crawling. “Finally.”

 

“Okay,” Logan took another drink of beer. “Say. Who do you think “owns” that Den o' Porn?”

 

“Not me nor you.”

 

“Great deductions, Sherlock. They look like Bobby's type?”

 

“I am not listening to you.”

 

“Come on, this'll pass the time!”

 

“This kind of speculation is vaguely tawdry.”

 

“Vaguely, nothing. It IS tawdry and that's how it's supposed to be. Quit your sidetracking. Bobby, yes or no?”

 

“With nary a one with green hair nor a preponderance of Asians, I'd say no.”

 

“Worthington's not about to go mucking around underground when he actually has multiple houses to hide his own stash. Stashes,” Logan mused.

 

Kurt made no reply as he made his way forward.

 

“Hank? How about Hank?”

 

“Alas, there was a distinct lack of fur on the models,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

 

“Okay. Give me more clues to work with, here.”

 

“Brunettes, mostly. I suppose there was a really noticeable lack of peroxide blondes.”

 

“So who do we know who really needs to jerk off, has a thing for brunettes and private hide-y holes?”

 

“Gambit,” they both said over the comm.

 

Logan took an extra large swig of beer to celebrate their successful deduction.

 

“Logan, I'm seeing boxes.”

 

Logan heard shuffling, shifting sounds.

 

“There's a gazillion whoopee cushions.”

 

“A gazillion whoopee cushions?”

 

“Affirmative. Can we say that I've completed the mission now?”

 

“Wait. Wait. Just whoopee cushions. No fake spiders, no artificial vomit, no stink bombs? Where's everything ELSE?”

 

“Amazing. It seems like Bobby has decided to separate out his stash,” Kurt dryly realized. “Foresight. Cunning, even. Very ominous.”

 

“Then we can't wrap up the mission.”

 

“True,” Kurt sighed with resignation.

 

He received the next set of coordinates and bamfed.

 

“Hey, Elf?” Logan asked after a few minutes of listening to silence.

 

“Yes, Logan?”

 

“Remember when you pestered me on mission once until I detoured and took you to see the world's biggest ball of twine?”

 

Kurt laughed.

 

“Yes. Amazing piece of Americana.”

 

“I also recall how you just had to see the world's largest teapot on another mission.”

 

“Also memorable.”

 

“So...”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I'm your working partner on this mission, I'm just reminding you.”

 

“You will be coming to the Berlinale with me, if that's what you want. Logan, you've never once expressed interest in cinema.”

 

“Hey. Chance to get away from Slim and this house of crazy. And there will be beer.”

 

“Your priorities are so practical, Logan,” Kurt laughed.

 

“There's also you, you know.”

 

Kurt didn't reply to that at all. Logan let it pass this time.

 

“I've arrived at the end of this tunnel. More boxes.”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

More shuffling noises.

 

“Well. We have silly string in this box and this box has... spray-able cheese.”

 

Logan heard the sound of splattering spraying.

 

“Fresh, too. Well. As fresh as you can get with 'processed cheese flavored product'. What does that even mean, really?”

 

“You didn't eat that, did you?” Logan wrinkled his nose.

 

“Of course not! I just put “Kurt was here” on a wall.”

 

More rummaging sounds.

 

“He's got a bakery's worth of pie pans and all the whipped cream that's supposed to go into them.”

 

More spraying sounds.

 

“Also fresh. I also see shaving cream. This must be the Aerosol Gear Stash.”

 

“Gotcha.”

 

“Well,” Kurt's voice was cheerful. “I'll just drop the box of shaving cream off in your quarters and we'll resume the mission. You'll use it all up in say, six months?” *bamf *

 

“Six months? How big is that box?”

 

If it did last him six months, given his prodigious hair replacement rate, he'd have to be impressed (or slightly weirded out) by Bobby's packrat tendencies.

 

“It will be a surprise! Next coordinates, please.”

 

Kurt's mood became progressively better as they uncovered stash after stash. This was treasure hunting, even though it wasn't half as exciting as an actual pirate's cache. Every stash uncovered was just complete overkill on Bobby's part and it was just supremely amusing.

 

“Gallons of neon orange paint. Neon. It's really impressively offensive in a chromatic sense.”

 

Logan entered that extraneous observational data point into the ongoing mission report. You never knew what Scott did or didn't need with his habit for meticulous detail.

 

“That's the last one, Elf.”

 

“At last!” *bamf *

 

“Hey, Kurt? I got one last beer left. Come pick it up later.”

 

Logan wrapped up the report, left it for Scott, picked up the beer, and went to his room. The shaving cream box was a thing of awe. Logan huffed out a laugh. Bobby must have nicked a whole pallet fresh out of the factory. The whole mess of them couldn't be left out in the middle of his room either. So Logan got to work, redistributing as many as possible into the closet, the bathroom, under the bed, and so forth.

 

“Logan?” Kurt knocked on the door.

 

“Come in. This is going to last me longer than six months, Elf.”

 

Kurt had showered off all underground detritus and was wearing fresh clothes. Logan tossed the beer to him.

 

“Amazing. I did not realize that would be possible.”

 

Kurt grinned at Logan's snort before opening the beer. The room was silent; he drank the beer and Logan resumed putting the shaving cream away.

 

“So are you going back to do your movie marathon?”

 

“No,” Kurt shook his head. “Not in the right frame of mind for it after all that's happened today.”

 

“So you're in the right frame of mind for something else.”

 

Kurt set the beer bottle aside.

 

“Depends on what that would be.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Logan moved in closer and Kurt didn't retreat; only his tail-spade flipping and twitching belied a change in the mood.

 

“I take that you want to make a suggestion?” Kurt's fangs showed over his bottom lip.

 

“You talk too damn much sometimes,” Logan reached up, pulling Kurt down to kiss him.

 

It was good, that press and clench, that rise in temperature between their bodies, feeling Kurt's hands coming up to cradle his head. It was better, the way their tongues twined, their hips pushing closer and that sharp inhale from Kurt when their cocks brushed through their pants. Best of all, the both of them made for the bed and tumbled in, shucking off the layers between them, him on his back and Kurt straddling him.

 

“I have to make up for your grunts and half-phrases,” Kurt smiled, breaking the kiss and tapping the tip of Logan's nose with a finger.

 

“Don't got to SAY how much I go for you, Elf,” Logan illustrated with a squeeze to Kurt's ass.

 

“It's not a hardship to just talk, Logan. Or compliment. I like compliments,” Kurt nuzzled him.

 

“Yeah? Because I'm just making sure you don't start putting on airs.”

 

“I wouldn't!”

 

“You wouldn't start getting anal hubris?”

 

“...Anal. Hubris.”

 

Kurt knew that Logan couldn't be entirely serious with the way his eyes were crinkling from his sly grin. But that statement was just one last ridiculous straw on a day surfeit with ridiculousness.

 

“Calling my confidence anal HUBRIS!” he sat up, slapping Logan's hands away. “Was I misremembering how I made your eyes cross!? You think that's some sort of fluke?”

 

“Alien sex pollen kind of covers it,” Logan shrugged as if it was completely self-evident.

 

“Oh, is that so!?”

 

Kurt's tail-spade threw open the drawer of the nightstand and began rooting through it. He caught hold of lube, flipping the top open.

 

“You're not going to say another thing,” Kurt jabbed Logan on the chest as he prepared himself.

 

“Wasn't going to,” Logan held his hands up, still smiling satirically.

 

Kurt's tail-spade whipped forward and clapped over Logan's mouth.

 

“I said, shut up! You know how much I hate not being taken seriously with my abilities, Logan. ALL of them.”

 

Kurt arched, taking hold of Logan's dick and slowly sinking down on it, watching as Logan's eyes shuttered from the sensation.

 

“Keep your eyes open, Logan. We're going to SEE.”

 

Kurt's lips curl a little when he's got Logan all the way in because it's hot and hard and he's filled with delicious impulse to just move, to forget his annoyance, to just have Logan. Kurt's hips made an undulation and Logan's moan was caught and held by his tail-spade, still cupped over Logan's mouth. No, no, he'll have both his satisfaction and orgasm; it was simply impossible to allow more of Logan's aggravating scoffing.

 

He sped up and the flanges on his tail-spade flexed a little as Logan's breathing caught and stuttered, sending tingles up his tail to the base of his spine. Logan began bucking up hard and fast and Kurt had to grit his teeth from sounding out, thighs tightening from each shock of pleasure. It's good like that, and when he flexes and rides out that bucking, unerringly keeping his balance, he feels the heat of muffled curses vibrating against his tail-spade.

 

He lost track of time. It was squeezed and blinked out of his mind in favor of Logan's striving underneath him, for him, all that strength making good for him and the good hurt of Logan's hands gripping him, finding purchase over his fur. His lips parted in a hiss. It's almost enough, almost-

 

“Come on,” he urged Logan. “Hurry-”

 

Logan does. There, yes, exactly-

 

Logan's last cry can't be confined by the tail-spade and Kurt's gaze doesn't leave Logan's face as he crashes through the other side.

 

All of Kurt's strength leaves him at once and he's woozy, the good kind, and Logan pulls him off and it's wet and holds him and then it's warm all over.

 

“I saw,” Kurt got his mouth to form the words. “I made you-”

 

Logan kisses him because even though he had no problem admitting Kurt was right, he just didn't want to hear about it.

 

Kurt knew what Logan was doing but on the face of his greater victory, let it pass and curled further up into Logan's warmth.

 

“Movie marathon's still going to happen, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay. I'll practice for the Berlinale that way. I meant it when I said I wanted to go with you. Be with you.”

 

Kurt's tail made a pleased twitch in the air. Then they were still.