Disclaimer:
[1] I do not own. [2] I have no money.
The importance of these statements. I don't own X-men, marvel does see
[1]. If I owned them I would be rich, see [2]. If I was rich, I wouldn't
be writing fan fiction, see [2], because I would buy the X-men, see [1].
Author's Note: My artist's muse went AWOL, so I stole a writing muse. Sorry if it was yours. That also gives me a reason to suck at writing. Ha ha! I would love reviews! Even flames, but if you flame me please be specific. How else will I learn from my mistakes? Constructive critism is key.
The muted picture drove the television's image in and out of reception, strewing eerie light on the faux white walls of the hotel room. Logan paced along the length of the double wide bed, dropping belongings into the leather duffel lying open on the mattress. At the moment, the only audible sound, was the distinct warbling of German hymns emanating from depths within the bathroom. Logan grunted, stepping over the comforter strewn on the ground from the night before. The remainder of the team were still lie their beds, leisurely allowing themselves the luxury to sleep in after their mission. They had all been to tired, too exhausted, to consider celebrating upon their return last night. Instead they turned to the comfort of warm beds and room service to comfort their aches. That indelibly meant that later they would have a night on the town. An evening of reckless fun in the midst of a life that would drive a hero to the brink of death, sometimes never returning. This was the unwritten tradition in the X-men books, sparing a few moments to revel in life and friendship when they found the time to do so.
Logan took one last survey of the room, grunting to himself satisfactorily. He had managed to pack everything that he could think that he'd want into the overnighter. Not that he needed much, he was fine with the clothes off his back. No, he was packing for someone else. someone that he knew would want mementos, reminders of the family left behind. He headed into the narrow corridor that served as the entrance to the room, sliding the door back to the closet. His leather jacket hung unceremoniously on the twisted wire hanger. Not that he had been the one that had hung it up either, he grinned. Last night he had been drug back to the hotel, his healing factor too preoccupied at the moment to grant him consciousness. His attention was distracted from his thoughts by the noises coming from the bathroom door behind him. He slid the worn jacket on, fishing a cigar out the pocket and used a single unsheathed claw to slice the tip off. He slid the lighter out from another pocket. He used his a fist to knock on the door. The scrambling noises that followed suggested that Kurt was hurrying to finish up. Logan leaned against the wall and savored the smell for a moment.
"Ja, Mien Fruend, a moment more. I doubt that you would want me to leave this blue fuzz in here for when you-"
"It's alright, Elf." Logan interrupted. "I'm heading out. Have yourself a good time tonight."
The silence that followed prompted Logan to make his move, he stepped out of the hall to grab the bag and slung it over his shoulder. His heavy boots thudded across the carpet and he opened the hotel room door, stepping out and closing it behind him.
Kurt opened the bathroom door, his damp locks of hair matted to his forehead.
"But Logan, I -"
The faint click of the lock sliding back, was his only answer. He glanced around the empty room. He made his way out of the bathroom, water dripping from his toweled form. On the dresser he saw a pink carbon copy of a receipt, noting that the reservation for their room had been extended for another week. He also noticed that it had been charged for two occupants. Obviously this was Logan's way of indicating that he wanted Kurt to stay behind when the other's returned to the X-mansion the next day. He shrugged to himself; Logan had said nothing of these plans previously. Still, Kurt knew better than to worry about these questions. Not that Logan was the type to answer questions.
Author's Note: My artist's muse went AWOL, so I stole a writing muse. Sorry if it was yours. That also gives me a reason to suck at writing. Ha ha! I would love reviews! Even flames, but if you flame me please be specific. How else will I learn from my mistakes? Constructive critism is key.
The muted picture drove the television's image in and out of reception, strewing eerie light on the faux white walls of the hotel room. Logan paced along the length of the double wide bed, dropping belongings into the leather duffel lying open on the mattress. At the moment, the only audible sound, was the distinct warbling of German hymns emanating from depths within the bathroom. Logan grunted, stepping over the comforter strewn on the ground from the night before. The remainder of the team were still lie their beds, leisurely allowing themselves the luxury to sleep in after their mission. They had all been to tired, too exhausted, to consider celebrating upon their return last night. Instead they turned to the comfort of warm beds and room service to comfort their aches. That indelibly meant that later they would have a night on the town. An evening of reckless fun in the midst of a life that would drive a hero to the brink of death, sometimes never returning. This was the unwritten tradition in the X-men books, sparing a few moments to revel in life and friendship when they found the time to do so.
Logan took one last survey of the room, grunting to himself satisfactorily. He had managed to pack everything that he could think that he'd want into the overnighter. Not that he needed much, he was fine with the clothes off his back. No, he was packing for someone else. someone that he knew would want mementos, reminders of the family left behind. He headed into the narrow corridor that served as the entrance to the room, sliding the door back to the closet. His leather jacket hung unceremoniously on the twisted wire hanger. Not that he had been the one that had hung it up either, he grinned. Last night he had been drug back to the hotel, his healing factor too preoccupied at the moment to grant him consciousness. His attention was distracted from his thoughts by the noises coming from the bathroom door behind him. He slid the worn jacket on, fishing a cigar out the pocket and used a single unsheathed claw to slice the tip off. He slid the lighter out from another pocket. He used his a fist to knock on the door. The scrambling noises that followed suggested that Kurt was hurrying to finish up. Logan leaned against the wall and savored the smell for a moment.
"Ja, Mien Fruend, a moment more. I doubt that you would want me to leave this blue fuzz in here for when you-"
"It's alright, Elf." Logan interrupted. "I'm heading out. Have yourself a good time tonight."
The silence that followed prompted Logan to make his move, he stepped out of the hall to grab the bag and slung it over his shoulder. His heavy boots thudded across the carpet and he opened the hotel room door, stepping out and closing it behind him.
Kurt opened the bathroom door, his damp locks of hair matted to his forehead.
"But Logan, I -"
The faint click of the lock sliding back, was his only answer. He glanced around the empty room. He made his way out of the bathroom, water dripping from his toweled form. On the dresser he saw a pink carbon copy of a receipt, noting that the reservation for their room had been extended for another week. He also noticed that it had been charged for two occupants. Obviously this was Logan's way of indicating that he wanted Kurt to stay behind when the other's returned to the X-mansion the next day. He shrugged to himself; Logan had said nothing of these plans previously. Still, Kurt knew better than to worry about these questions. Not that Logan was the type to answer questions.