"Logan, this is not healthy. You cannot afford to continue on this path."

Logan wished he had a cigar to puff away on. That would have made quite a picture, the juxtaposition of his cigar smoke near the window that showed a cheerfully bright afternoon. Instead, he reached a hand up above the couch and stroked the spine of a nearby leather volume. "You don't think I'm trying hard enough," he stated blandly.

Charles Xavier leaned forward in his chair, or rather Logan imagined what the professor would look like leaning in his chair. "I'm simply stating a fact. The subject of a horoscope is symbolic. Feelings of animosity toward it is telling, to say the least."

"Look," Logan snarled, "I just don't go in for all that crap. I think you're compatible with the person you want to be compatible with."

"Is it that she didn't want to be or is the possibility that you weren't ready to be and she beat you to the punch? Which really bothers you more?"

Logan turned his head, looking at the Professor dead on so that Xavier would know he was being serious. "I don't think it matters. She decided that she wasn't compatible with me. She said that the love and steady nature of a boar could never soothe the best inside of me. And then she left."

"And how exactly did that make you feel?"

Logan turned away from the Professor again, massaging the back of his neck with one of his hands. He had taken to doing that when he got nervous. "I don't know....disappointed, angry?"

"What did you do after she left?"

"I don't know, okay?" Logan barked out the answer with anger that surprised even himself. "I downed the nearest bottle of whatever shit I could get my hands on and don't remember after."

Alarms started to sound in concert echo all around the room. Logan cursed to himself.

The Professor merely blinked. "They're noticing more all the time, Logan."

Logan rolled off the couch as it dissolved away, along with the bookcase. The window began to shrink in on itself, taking with it the sunny afternoon scene. The floor and the ceiling of the office began to change colors into a neutral blue gray. Logan watched the danger room fold in on itself again. He shook his head as he walked to a newly-created side door for his exit.

It was only 2:30 in the morning, a new record. It was ultimately Beast who caught him roaming the corridors of the sub-basement. Beast was known to have a proclivity towards being nocturnal when it came to doing his research. After the Professor's death, he had moved back into the mansion to help Ororo with the administrative tasks required by a private school and to continue his research in the room right next to where Jean's medical bay had been. Beast, for his part, hadn't actually been intending to find Wolverine, but they had bumped into each other anyway. There were only so many corridors to the sub basement.

"Logan," the Beast seemed surprised to see Wolverine up at this hour, "couldn't sleep?"

"Something like that," Logan shrugged.

"Ah," the Beast replied, while tucking his notebook under his arm so that he could converse while standing in the same direction as Logan instead of upside down, "still dealing with the sleep walking."

Logan nodded. "Yep. Never had this trouble before though, and its making me feel like shit."

Beast sighed. "Well, troubling times can bring out the strangest in the creatures called man. I did take the liberty of doing some folk research into sleep walking, but the cures that would work for you only seem to affect those with insomnia, as well."

Logan moved to the side of the corridor, leaning his back against the wall and folding his arms casually. "I appreciate the assistance anyways."

Beast bowed in humility. "Its all in servitude to a greater cause. Now I must bid you a good morning, sir." And with a flourish, Beast headed down the hallway to his work space. Logan had even seen that work space once, there were so many formulas on the white boards that they had even begun overlapping into the walls.

Logan felt the rise of elevator moments later and was glad he hadn't actually been sleep walking this time. He didn't like the idea of moving around in the dark not of his own volition. The idea that he was so stressed or scarred that he literally could not get one good night of sleep did not bode well. The Danger Room itself had been pretty much a cursed ground since the Professor had died and Jean had fell into a coma, locking away the Shadow King in her shut down mind, and the secret that they had shared about its sentience had been loosed in the Prof's will.

He also didn't care much for the idea that the Danger Room had actually been a prisoner here, but it turned out that the Danger Room hadn't any other place to go. The situation had been ideal for both it and Logan. One wanted someone to talk to that had an objective opinion and the other needed companionship. Which was great, except sometimes he would have to reappear in places like Bobby's room at midnight to make sure nobody figured out that the Danger Room was actually still active.

Logan still smirked at the memory of finding himself coming out of a bookcase passage and catching Bobby looking through a copy of Fox. The kid was wound tighter than a Senate hearing on mutants when he thought he was having a homosexual moment. Logan was sure that the therapy he might get for that would do him some good, especially after having him get the Wolverine off.

Wolverine padded down the hallway, startled slightly by the beginnings of the dawn in the windows to the outside. He noticed the lights in the kitchen were on and he poked his head inside to find Ororo making herself toast.

"Storm, what are you doing awake?"

Storm turned, holding a knife with a bit of butter on the end. "I could ask you the same question Logan."

Logan smirked. "Couldn't get back to sleep."

Storm nodded, turning back to her breakfast. "I thought I might make some porridge before I went out to the garden, but it appears that Bobby finished the last of it just recently and didn't put it on the grocery list. So, I thought I might make some toast. Hungry?"

Logan shook his head. "Too early for me. I will have a Coke though."

Ororo finished buttering her second slice, laying them on a plate with a dark green stripe around the border. "Not very healthy for you. At least have a small piece."

"Nah. Sure my body can handle it."

"Would that we were all so lucky."

Logan didn't merely respond, just opened up the can of soda from the fridge and let the can ring hang from his index finger. "So, what're ya harvesting today?"

Storm turned as she took a bite of toast. "Mmm...the snap peas are finally in. A little late in the season, which is odd, but thats fine. They'll make a great addition to the pantry."

"Why not get Multiple to help?"

Ororo shrugged. "I like doing it myself more. It may not be as efficient, but it grants me solace."

"Now I'm the one that should be sayin' we should all be so lucky."

They had their respective meals in silence. Ororo rinsed her plate off and gave a nod to Logan as she reached for her gardening supplies in the bucket by the door and headed outside, the morning dew wafting in the door behind her.

Logan watched her begin to work for just a few minutes as she plaited her hair into a working bun and bent down among the tilled earth and sprouted beans. Ororo was right. She was able to find solace. Logan was both glad for and envious of her.

He did have one night when the Danger Room actually dumped him close enough to his room that he didn't encounter a soul. He enjoyed being able to go into his own room without having to peek around corners. Logan laid down on his bed, stretching out his arms and shoulders, allowing one hand to stroke his own chest casually.

He was trying to sleep. He was trying to fall asleep hard. Usually, the metal under his skin felt more fluid than static and now it felt as though it was jutting out of every pore, irritating the hell out of him. Or maybe it was the smell of the god awful cigarettes. Did that mean Colossus was back for the weekend?

No, he realized that as he looked down from his window that Colossus was not in fact back, but it was Cyclops. Logan was surprised that Scott wasn't sputtering. He'd never known Scott to smoke or to even stop shaving, but both had been happening. And judging by the smell reeking from him all the way to Logan's window, both had been happening for a few days.

Logan shook his head, grabbing a couple of cigars from his shelf. He was never going to get to sleep at this rate.

"Hey One-eye!" Logan growled as he came out on the first floor landing to the backyard.

Scott looked over as though he had momentarily thought about trying to throw the cigarette on the ground and play it off, but went back to smoking seeing as it was just Logan.

"Scared the shit out of me, Wolverine."

"Yeah, well, I was tryin' to sleep and guess whose window you're under."

Scott shrugged as he took another drag. "Thought you of all people wouldn't mind."

Logan chuckled as he bit off the end of one of his cigars. "I wouldn't mind if you didn't smoke shit with pretty sounding names like Native Dreams."

"Don't knock it til you've tried it."

Logan waved the thought off. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather smoke like a real man."

Scott turned toward Logan, crossing his arms in anger. "What? Now I can't even smoke without you criticizing me?"

Logan threw up a hand as he took the first long drag, blowing the smoke in Scott's face and causing the red head to tear. "Calm down, Summers. I was just sayin' that if you're gonna rip your lungs to shred, don't use shit brands to do it."

"God, I hate you so much."

"Stop bitchin'," Logan snarled as he grabbed the cigarette from Scott's mouth and stamped it out. Before Scott had a chance to react, Logan was already pushing the lit cigar into his open hand. "And smoke one of these."

"Hate you so much," Scott stated again, deflated.

"You'll get over it," Logan commented while lighting his other cigar. "Mmm...good shit."

Scott sputtered and teared after the first drag. "Holy mother of God, how can you smoke that?"

Logan shrugged. "Used to it, I guess. Plus, you know, regenerative powers."

Scott shook his head, handing the cigar back to Wolverine. "Well, my power isn't what I would call regenerative. So I'll stick to my brand."

"Not under my window, you ain't. I got enough trouble sleepin' without you trying to smoke shit brands like a chimney."

Scott glared through his shades. "I'm really sick of you dictating actions to me like I'm a kid."

"You're not a kid," Logan said with a puff, "you're just a tight wound dick who doesn't get laid enough."

"I've had just about fucking enough of this," Scott growled as he tackled Logan.

"What the h..." Logan felt himself fall on the ground, Scott trying to wail on his breadbasket. He laid there for a second as Scott started to let his fists fly. It hurt, Logan would grant him that, but he wasn't gonna let the kid ruin another good cigar.

With a bit of a struggle, Logan rolled Scott over. A slight wind came by and he could smell the toxic emotions pouring off of Scott. Scott was looking for...no...but Logan supposed it made sense. After all, hadn't he lost the woman he loved? Didn't he feel lost?

"Stop that."

Logan got up, putting his arm out to Scott. Scott just laid there, cross, refusing to take it. "I'm not getting up just yet."

"Just grab my god-damned hand, Cyclops!"

Logan felt the venom Scott was spitting, but refused to react. "You'd just like that, wouldn't you? Prove how strong and worthy you are against me."

"You ain't givin' yourself enough credit, One-Eye. Now get up before somebody sees ya. The team needs you leadin' it, not wallowing in pity."

"Team? What team? God, you're so full of shit, Wolverine. You'll abandon us the moment it gets a little tougher."

Logan shook head head, grabbing Scott by the front part of his collar and throwing him up against the outer brick facade with a thud. "Now look, you wuss. I didn't wanna get my hands dirty with you, but you're makin' it real hard for me."

"Hard? You mean like this?"

Scott wrapped his hand hard around Logan's crotch and his cock sprung to life in response from the massaging grip. Logan felt Scott's thumb lock into the base of his cock as it thickened in his pants slowly. He shifted from side to side.

"Stop that."

"Not until you wake up."

Logan catapulted himself up into a sitting position. It was still dark in his room, the moonlight filtering in through the slits. He used his meaty paw to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face. He was still clothed, his body dead tired. And yet, he just couldn't go to sleep.

So he got up and started wandering around the mansion, just letting his feet carry him. Any doctor would clearly see that he was trying to ignore what he had dreamed or chocked it up to horniness or a desire to fit in or some bullshit sensitive reason. People were always trying to make Logan sensitive. Too bad it would never be true.

He ended up in the sparse gym under the garage. A couple of mats were the only thing that separated bare feet from cement. The place was abandoned, so Logan decided to take advantage of that. He turned the lights down low enough to where he could see but no one else could if they looked in and locked the door. He'd smell them coming soon enough anyways, and could think up an excuse if need be.

Then Logan stripped down to nothing. He was hard, a dot of pre-cum already loaded in his slit, and could smell the horny sweat leaking out of every pore in his body. He started to jab at the bag to try and diffuse some of that energy. He hit the bag a second time, alternating his arms, and then a third time to make sure he checked his form again.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

The hard-on raged on, stiff as adamantium in water and twice as heavy on his mind. He grabbed onto the bag, groaning, when he couldn't throw another punch. He was gasping for air, but still so fucking horny. His body was thrusting against the gym bag, the dark silhouette of his ass almost visible. He wanted to bury himself so hard in someone, anyone. He didn't care who anymore. He just knew he couldn't stay there or he'd ram himself straight through the bag.

Grabbing his clothes, he peeked outside the windows of the sparse gym. The coast was still clear. He unlocked it quickly and ran across to the back entrance of the mens changing room. He was pretty sure it was empty. It had that familiar muggy scent to it, but it always smelled like that unless somebody got too happy with the pine cleaner.

He felt so naked with a stiff cock in the locker room. He didn't have anything to be ashamed of, of course, and he dropped his clothes on a nearby bench, trying to play off his hard-on. Choosing the steam room, he opened the door and sat on the lowest level. Then he began to stroke himself hard, into oblivion.

The sound of skin against hand, the low growls in his throat, he didn't care. His head tilted back, his eyes burning hard. He thrust his hips in time with his hand, envisioning a slide show of hard bodies...him and her and him and her and....

"Logan?"

Damn it. Scott was watching him, hovering, as though he didn't know what the fuck was happening.

"What?" Logan barked at Scott.

"Sorry, I..." Scott turned to go an awkward moment later.

"Wait. Get the fuck over here." Logan motioned, somewhere between a pleading request and a demand.

Scott simply shrugged and turned back, sitting down pretty near to Logan. Close enough to watch the beast of a man stroke himself slowly, breathing hard with each motion. His foreskin rolled back and forth over the head like a tidal wave, pre-cum already making it hard to hold on.

"Looking to play, one-eye?"

"What? No...I...."

"Then why the fuck you just watchin' me?"

When Scott didn't respond at first, Logan moved toward him. He grabbed the red head in a kiss. At first, Scott struggled, but eventually he took the bruise from Logan's lips and felt his hand moving down to Logan's cock. It was slick and hard, the veins popping out all over the place so much that Scott could feel them with his light touch.

Logan hissed during the kiss when Scott started to stroke him. "Too soft. Need to..."

"Logan, I've never..." Scott stammered.

"Don't give me that bull shit. I could smell it the couple of times you did this with Colossus. Don't tell me you never played bitch for him. I need to fuck something Summers and you're it, right now. No better lube, either."

"You're safe, right?" Scott asked.

Logan nodded, hazy with lust. "Get myself tested all the time."

Scott was still unsure, but then Logan grabbed for his rod and Scott kind of forgot his objections. "Yeah, you like that Summers? How long it been? Too long, right? We gonna fix that right now."

"Promises, promises."

"You're too much of a good guy to be a cynic. Get on top of me."

Scott did just as he was told, just like he relished doing. His body fit pretty damn perfectly over Logan's. His hips were smooth and so were his ribs, whereas Wolverine was about as hairy as you could get without calling yourself a woodland creature.

It took a few moments to get the position just right, but Logan's cock wasn't going anywhere. It fit, slowly at first, with excruciating, sweat-dripping moments. Scott had to look away more than once, but he always came back when Logan commanded him. And when they were finally together, Logan barely wasted a second before the first small tremor of a thrust.

God, he needed this warm hole, this willing hole. His mind was reeling, imagining all the things he could force Scott to do, right here and now. It was better than a dream. The way his claws slid in and out while his hands were out to his side. The way that Scott said his name. The way he felt like he was holding onto the sauna bench by his shoulder blades. If this wasn't heaven, Logan wasn't sure he didn't want it.

"Logan, I..."

Logan wasn't sure when he had started stroking Scott's cock, but he realized that it was getting uncomfortably stiff as well. Scott's face was distorted enough that Logan knew he was grateful when he pulled out. He had been hard on Scott when he hadn't meant to be, one of the rare occasions. Instead of apologizing, he simply moved Scott's hips so that he could grab just the tip of Scott's cock with his tongue. The skin on the underside lingered there on Logan's wetness.

"Oh, fuck! You're gonna...Jesus..."

"I haven't done shit yet."

Logan didn't wait for a response, just pulled it closer and sucked on Scott's cock until he could feel Scott's balls pulling hard and Scott was having trouble thrusting. Logan grabbed Scott's hand, guiding it to his cock so that Scott could jack him off while he got sucked off.

Logan's expert fingers found their way to Scott's hole, causing him to jut forward and give Logan his full length. Logan gagged back an inch and a half, but just kept going after a moment. It wasn't long after that that a sticky white substance starting shooting from one meaty hose and then the other.

It was all over skin and tile and sweat and holes and Scott crashed into Logan, shaking.

And all Logan could say was, "Fuck. Glad I got a problem sleep walking."