I do not claim to be an expert at X-men history. I loved the animated show form the 90's and loved the movies. I never liked comic books. I am infatuated with Hugh Jackman's portrayal of Wolverine and the Beast character from the movies. Both men are sexy in real life, but add more muscles like the movies and DAMN they are hot. Without much more rambling, this follows my own X-Men universe. It is some of the animated series, some of the movie and some of me. Main difference, Scott is still alive from end of the third movie, so is Xavier. Some of the powers will be adjusted a bit for Beast, but not much. Also, the characters look like in the movies, Beast is about a foot taller though. Since I will be writing lemons I will do those as their own chapter and warn you before them so you may skip the chapter if you like. I will try not to get to explicit on regular chapters.

Chapter 1

Dr. Hank McCoy lay in his bed trying to ease his mind in order to go to sleep. Thoughts kept swirling around his head; most of them about companionship, or lack thereof. As the most mutated of the X-Men he had never had someone touch him in a romantic way. He had never had that special someone that yearned to touch his chest, or just lay with him while they go to sleep. He hadn't even been able to kiss his first girl in grade school before his mutant genes took over his life.

Many times he had thought about using his powers to persuade someone to make love to him. Yet, no matter how much he wanted to, he wanted the touch and passion to be real. His power over his own pheromone levels stayed dormant. So he lay there, tired of being him. After what seemed like eternity, he finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep as a tear found its way to his pillow.

Morning came and as usual he had to strip his bed down from his nightly sweats. Blue fur covered most of the bedding. How he would love to be normal, just for one week. To not have to go through his morning routine of taking most of the fur off his sheets as to not clog up the washing machine. It was so embarrassing the first few times it happened. What he wouldn't give, to wake up with someone to hold, or to even hold him. He had never thought of himself as being the one being held, he was always the one doing the holding. Maybe, just maybe he should give up.

After his long morning schedule, he went downstairs for breakfast.

"Good morning everyone, I hope you slept well."

As he was turning the corner to the kitchen he noticed no one was there except Logan. He was used to this as most mornings he would miss everyone else because of his daily rituals. Usually all he received from Logan was some sort of grunt unless he had just gotten back from an x-task or gallivanting around the country doing who knows what. After those outings he always seemed more cheerful and talkative but quickly went back to the grunting. This time however, he got nothing in response. Something had been wrong.

Disregarding his own feelings as pre-usual, he decided to pry.

"Logan, is there anything wrong? You look like your motorcycle just got smashed into tiny little pieces by Sabertooh." Hank knew from experience the only way to converse with Logan was to use sarcasm. Unfortunately he wasn't very skilled at that form of communication.

"There ain't nothin' wrong you furry freak, just having a bad mornin'."

Normally he could take this kind of abuse, pass it off to "Just being Logan" but today he was not in the mood.

"How dare you, every day I come in here and try to be polite. Every day you berate me, call me some absurd name and all I do is try to be cordial." He paused for a moment expecting Logan to say something. When nothing came he continued, "Fine, if you want to be alone, be alone. I can understand now why Jean didn't want anything to do with you."

He didn't see the shock on Logan's face as he abruptly spun around and headed to the danger room for practice his stomach rumbling. He knew he would regret it later as he didn't even get to eat.

Wolverine was late as most of the practice had already taken place. It really didn't matter because Logan was the most experienced fighter, but if everyone had to practice, the least he should do is show up.

No one said a word as they watched him warm up. Furry like they had never seen before played out before their eyes. Logan viscously attacked everything from the trees, to the cars, the innocent bystanders, and the fake enemies. They were all indeed glad that this was not a real fight with real people and surroundings. Scott being the leader let him blow off some steam for a bit, and then shut down the warm up. He held out his hand to the others and approached Logan slowly.

"Are you alright there? You just massacred the entire population of the town." Again, sarcasm; it was how everyone knew how to speak to him.

"I'm fine bub; let's just get this over with."

"All right everyone, get ready. Begin training regimen five." The current city started to dissolve and was replaced by a jungle. This was Logan's favorite. Plenty of trees to climb in order to get high enough to chop off the Sentinel heads.

Training began and the same furry he let go in the warm up came out again. Hank usually teamed up with Logan by using his gymnastic ability to fly through the trees and give a boost to Logan so he could reach the top of the Sentinel's heads. This time the rage Logan was displaying did not allow any such feat to occur. Beast, Hanks x-name, got to the top before Logan, and was waiting with an alley-oop. Instead of accepting help, Logan charged at Beast like a linebacker and continued up by himself.

Hank didn't have time to grab onto any limbs of the trees he flew past because of the brute force Logan had used. He started to tumble downwards. As he hit the ground there was a loud thud and crack heard by everyone. Hank let out an animalistic scream that pierced Logan's conscience. As every veteran warrior knows even lack of a small amount of concentration can go from a successful attack, to a failed attack. That is exactly what happened. As Logan turned to see what the scream was, he got hit full force by a giant machine and thrown directly into the ground. It hurt, hell yes it hurt, but not for long.

Logan's rage had still not subsided and he jumped up and ran to Beast.

"What the hell was that, getting in my way then distracting me on purpose? No one asked your opinion this morning, and no one asked you to help me destroy that Sentinel. If you haven't noticed, no one asked you anything. And if you haven't noticed, you're alone too!"

He quickly left as Scott shouted, "This is a team Logan. Get back here now and talk about this."

Wolverine heard nothing as he was too consumed by his own thoughts.

Beast got up and did a self-diagnosis. Thankfully nothing was wrong, just very sore. His healing ability must have taken care of most of the damage. He hadn't fallen like that in ages. "You're alone too." Kept running through his head and he slowly walked towards the door.

"Hank." Scott called

"Hank," Beast still did not notice.

"Hank!" Finally Hank registered the call and turned. "I'm fine; I just have to go talk with him. I had words with him this morning and I need to set some stuff right."

Even though he could track Logan by smell, he didn't need to. He knew where to go; the garage, or more specifically the one that hosted Wolverine's bike. When times got tough in battle, Logan got tougher; when times got tough in life, Logan retreated. Hank ran towards the garage, knowing that even though Logan had a head start, he could catch him using his agility.

He finally got to the door and opened it while at the same time shouting, "Logan!"

"What? I thought I made myself clear; you and your opinions are not wanted. Leave!"

With that he kicked started the bike as hard as he could. Unfortunately his anger caused him to use too much force, that coupled with the added weight of his metal skeleton caused the handles bars to bend, and the kick start to break off. The bike was the only thing in his life that was constant. The bike was the only thing he had left. He couldn't remember his past; the only thing he knew was he was altered with this adamantium skeleton as a weapon experiment. Since then he searched for belonging which never seemed to come to him.

Fifty years had passed by since he woke up during the experiment. Fifty years he had been alone. The pain that coursed through his body altered the way his instincts worked. No longer could he trust, befriend, or even fully relax. His only instinct was to run. He had been running for fifty years; never staying in one place long enough to actually get to know people. The mansion was the first place he stayed longer than a month; it was also the only place he had a friend.

During his travels in Canada he met Rogue, a runaway teen mutant. The two quickly formed an unspoken bond and because of that, Logan remained. During his three years at the mansion their bond became even closer because they had each saved each other's life at least once. Even though he had gotten to know Rogue, he had still not let anyone get to know him. He couldn't trust them.

Decades of torment flashed through his mind and he couldn't take it, he lashed out decimating his beloved bike. He didn't use his claws, he punched and kicked and threw the bike causing damage not only to it, but to himself as well. What did he care, he would heal, the pain he felt temporarily would help him keep his mind off of his emotions.

Hank watched knowing he didn't want to get in the way. After minutes Logan stopped and dropped to his knees. Most people wouldn't be able to tell but he was crying. You wouldn't be able to hear it, because he had over a half a century of practice hiding it, but Hank could. He could smell the tears; he could even smell the pheromones produced from crying.

"I'm sorry about what I said this morning. I wasn't having a good morning either, and I was just trying to bring some cheer."

"No one asked you to bring anyone cheer. No one ever does."

Hank waited a bit longer not knowing what to do. Usually he was eloquent, but at this moment he knew that one wrong word could mean being attacked.

"I know what it is like to be alone just like you do. Maybe we should talk?"

Logan said nothing. Moments passed before he spoke.

"I'm lonely."

Most people would not be able to read between the lines of this simple statement. Hank however knew exactly what he meant. It was a plea.

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about Jean. I know you loved her."

"You don't get it Hank. You don't get it because you don't know what it's like. I can't remember the first part of my life, so I have no reference to what it feels like to be loved. The memories I do have are of a woman who didn't love me back. I had to kill her Hank. I killed Jean. She was the only person that gave me a chance. She was the only person who gave me a chance even though she would never be with me the way I wanted her."

Hank did not respond at first. He knew it would be best to wait, to see if there was anything more to be added.

"Rogue accepts you. She loves you in her own way."

"It's not the same. I love her like a daughter. We have a bond of being the outcast. She only tolerates me because we have saved each other's lives. No one can stand me, let alone befriend me."

Hank couldn't help but smirk, "You don't exactly make that easy you know."

He paused, hoping Logan would understand his meaning.

"What the hell would you know anyway? Everyone here likes you. Everyone here adores you. You're the one everyone goes to for their problems, emotionally or physically. You're needed. "

"That is true, but that is only because I allow them. I am still just as lonely as you are."

"To hell you are. You have plenty of friends. You know what it is like to be hugged. You know what it is like to be wanted and loved."

"I know what it is like for friends to love me, but I have no idea what it is like for that special someone to hug me."

Logan finally turned around and met Hank's eyes. Both men could tell the other one was uncomfortable so there was a standoff.

Hank finally took the lead, "Why don't we go out to the lake and we can talk some more. I know you don't like to talk, but I am asking you for a favor. I know you don't owe me one, but I need to talk just as badly as you do."

Again silence. Logan finally turned around and started walking in the direction of the lake. Not a word was spoken was they sat down beneath a tree.

Hank finally understood completely that if anything was going to happen he was going to have to make it happen.

"Like I said before, I know you don't like to talk so just listen. Maybe after you hear what I have to say you will want to respond. I will admit that everyone here will come to me for their problems. I try to help as much as I can. No one here knows me though. I don't let them. I don't want to burden them with my problems. Your self-loathing seems to be just like mine. No one ever asks me about my problems. I am too afraid to open up to someone because of humiliation. I am too afraid to open up to anyone because of rejection. I might have friends, but I run myself ragged trying to do for them, never asking anything in return. I have to do this so I don't get rejected, who wants to be friends with a beast?"

A pause to see if there was any response, when it was obvious there wasn't going to be one he continued.

"Every night I have trouble going to sleep because of the heat. I don't want to complain about it because I don't want to inconvenience anyone else but my fur is hot. When I finally get to sleep I sweat profusely. In the morning the odor is horrendous and hair is everywhere. I have to spend hours getting the fur off my bedding so I can put it in the wash every day, and because of that I am always late for breakfast. I can't tell you how many times I have been responsible for the washing machines breaking because of my fur."

Logan was still looking at the ground but finally he started to talk, "Hell bub, your life is a living hell. Your problem is you have to groom yourself and you have too many friends. I should just shut up about murdering Jean."

Even though it was an insult, Hank knew at least Logan had calmed down. There was no more rage, just sarcasm. He knew how to deal with sarcasm. He was not out of the deep end yet. He could still smell the pheromones that Logan's depression caused.

"Look, it may not seem that bad but it is."

They sat there in silence looking out over the water.

"May I be completely blunt with you Logan?"

"Sure, I don't have anything else going on right now. I might as well get yelled at some more."

Hank thought it curious that Logan thought yelling had to do with honesty, but decided to keep going forward. "You're an ass hole. No matter how hard people try, no matter what they do for you, you keep them at arm's length, and then blame them for not being nice to you. You even keep Rogue out of your life. Do you realize that the only thing that comes out of your mouth is sarcasm? Some of us have realized that it is how you deal with things, but most people don't respond well to it. You are going to have to try harder to talk to people. Listen to them as well. Stop being such a fucking ass!"

"Why Hank, I have never hard you utter a curse word in the entire time I have known you." Logan said with a jovial sarcastic voice. He paused and continued in his previous gloomy tone, "I guess if I can make you curse, I really am fucked up huh?"

"No, you aren't fucked up, you just have to try. Why not try asking someone else to open up to their feelings and then try and relate. A good way to figure out your own problems is to discuss them with others."

"I'm just not comfortable with that. What happens when I can't help them? What happens if I fail them? What happens when I can't fix them or myself?"

"I don't have an answer to that. You will never know if you don't try."

Logan contemplated that as they sat silently. No one had ever taken the time to ask him these questions. Usually if someone did have a conversation with him this long a yelling match or brawl would have already started. Maybe Hank was on to something.

"So, tell me more about your loneliness then Hank. Even a prick like me can tell that there is more to your story than you let on."

Thinking about it, Hank took a deep breath and began. "When I was just a boy, just hitting puberty, I had a crush on a girl named Samantha. We talked on the phone, went to school football games, and went to a school dance once or twice. Overall for a couple of thirteen year olds we were moving slow. I was raised old fashioned and wanted to court her right."

"Wait. Wait. Wait. No one says court. How old are you?"

"See, this is what was talking about. I am trying to be serious and open up to you, and you go and belittle me."

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean anything by it. Keep going.'"

"Yes, well. Eventually we went to the spring dance at the school. We were having a good time dancing to some upbeat tune when a slow song came on. I stopped and didn't know what to do. She took the lead and placed my hand on her back, and grabbed my other to start slow dancing. We stared at each other's eyes the entire song. By the end of it, our mouths were just about to touch when she backed away with her nose wrinkled. She spat, 'What in the hell is that smell!' I looked around and everyone was slowly backing away from me. Murmurs were starting to break out all around me and I looked down. Blue hair began sprouting at an alarming rate all over my body. I screamed out and a feeling I had never felt took over me. I locked eyes with Sam and started to prey upon her. I wasn't going to attack, no, I was going to mate. Before anything could happen I was hit on the head and don't remember anything else that night."

There was a pause and Logan could now smell Hank's strong sullen pheromones. Both mutants shared a healing factor and enhanced senses. Being able to sense what pheromone a person's body was emitting was a great way to read people. Logan used it as a weapon in battle, whereas Hank used it to read other's emotions. This time however Logan used it to read Hank, and he could tell that this was not the time to be snide.

"I woke up in a ditch. I was bruised and sore. Like you I have a healing ability, but mine is slower. I don't know to what extent they had beaten me but I would think enough to kill a standard human. I didn't die. I lived. As time went on I figured out what the smell was. It was pheromones. I could emit them to attract a mate. The thing is it didn't work for Samantha; it repulsed her. In fact, I don't know how it works fully but I think it might be like the way some animal's pheromones work; only your mate is attracted to it. I use to think I should try to control it and lure women to me, but I can't use it like that. It's just not in me. Besides, I don't know how to make it not come off as an obnoxious odor. "

"That is all fine and dandy, but what does this have to be with this situation?" Logan interrupted.

"I'm getting to that, wait for Christ's sake. Patience is a virtue." Another brief pause, "I was alone, I couldn't go home. I was a blue monster. My parents wouldn't accept me, nor should they. I had almost raped an innocent girl and probably countless others if I hadn't been distracted by being in the middle of my transformation. I would have killed so many trying to reach the ones I was after. The rage of the beast inside me was so intense. So, I went out into the world and hunted my food like the animal I made myself believe I was. Eventually I got bored and started sneaking into the library at night to read. I read everything from the classics, to medical books. I was a doctor before I ever went to school. Eventually Xavier found me and the rest is history. He helped me see that it is man's actions that dictate who he is, not his appearance or genes. He helped me to get a fake GED and I went to college. Now I work here."

"What does your story have to do with me?"

"Well, for one I have never told that to anyone. So thank you for listening even though you're still being an ass." He looked over and could tell that Logan felt a little ashamed for his declaration. "I have never had anyone touch me sexually. I have never gone to bed with anyone. I have never been kissed." silence, "I am a 94 year old virgin. Sex isn't even what bothers me. I want to know love Logan. I want to take care of someone. I don't know, I guess I want someone to take care of me. I don't want to be alone. I want to share my life with someone that cares."

Hank looked away, embarrassed. What would he do? Could he trust this man with this information? Suddenly something changed. No longer did he smell desperation from Logan, he smelt something else. Something he had not smelled before. It was intoxicating. His entire body felt like tiny bolts of lightning were traveling through is veins. Never before had a scent done this to him.

As Logan contemplated what Hank had said, he began to identify a lot with the blue man. Not only did they share the abilities of healing and senses, but they also identified themselves as an animal. Hank was an animal on the outside, while Logan was a beast on the inside.

After a while Logan finally decided that he wanted to try to open up to someone, "I guess I can't make fun of you for being old, I know I'm at least ninety. When Striker imbued me with these claws fifty years ago, I woke up and didn't remember anything; I looked to be around forty and hadn't changed appearance since then. I guess were both old men."

There was a small awkward silence. Hank wanted Logan to open up more, but knew better than to push him.

"We both are animals, you and I. You've learned how to be tame, I haven't." He paused again, "I don't remember anything about my past and it infuriates me. When I try to remember, the pain from the experiment fills my body with irrational feelings. I want to flee, to retreat to safety. That is why I leave so much. I have never stayed in one place for more than a month; I go from place to place looking for answers. The only reason I come back here when I leave is Rogue. I want a family and she is as close as I have. I don't know how to open up to her though. I feel responsible for her."

"You aren't responsible for her, you should remember that. What you're doing is just natural, you have a bond with her because neither of you can get close to another person. Albeit for different reasons, but the kinship is still there. I for one am proud of you for abandoning your life style to try and help her."

Logan had never had someone say that they were proud of him. He never seemed to do anything right. The more he talked, the more he wanted to talk. It was like the burdens that he was carrying around added on to the enormous weight of his metal skeleton making him feel like he was walking through life in quicksand.

"I want someone, anyone to accept me for who I am. At the same time though, I want to change. I know I am not perfect, but why should that matter, can't people look at someone and see the good in them and wait for them work out the kinks?" Logan had so many thoughts running through his head and he started to get frustrated. It felt good to get everything out, but at the same time he needed to let it out slowly. Thankfully he was given an out as he heard Hank's stomach give out a loud lurch.

"Wow, hungry much?"

"I wasn't able to eat this morning because of our fight, I'm famished. Don't try and change the subject though, you aren't getting off that easy."

"Look blue, I need to think, and you need food. Let's got get some lunch; I'll buy."

Not wanting to argue, Hank agreed and walked back to the garage. Both men seemed a little more cheerful until they opened the door and saw the devastation of Wolverine's outburst. Logan's scent went from a delightful musk to depression all over again.

"We should pick up before we leave. What do you want to do with the bike?"

"I don't know. I want to fix it, but I think it is beyond repair."

Hank patted Logan on the back and started to pick up the pieces of the bike and put them in the back of his truck. The cleanup didn't take long because of their mutant strength. What would take two or more men to pick up they did with ease. They finally settled in Hank's truck and left for lunch.

"May I be blunt with you again?"

Logan didn't reply so Hank decided to continue.

"Is this the first time you have had to face the consequences of your outbursts?"

Again no answer, but Hank couldn't smell anger or rage so he continued again.

"When you leave, this is what you leave behind: Destruction. Rogue probably feels betrayed every time you leave without saying good bye. The team is always let down. Just because you don't physically rage when you leave, doesn't mean that damage isn't done."

Logan contemplated his meaning. This was the first time he had a violent outburst and didn't run away. Moments passed before he could find his voice to reply.

"I think your statement is truer in my situation than you meant for it to be Hank."

Hank looked over and gave Logan a quizzical look, "What do you mean?"

"I heal almost instantly when hurt. What people don't seem to realize, is just because there is lack of scars doesn't mean that there isn't damage underneath."

Hank was dumbfounded. He had never heard Logan say anything remotely that deep.

"I am here if you ever want to talk about your invisible scars." Hank added trying to be a friend. All he got was a grunt in reply. "So, what do you want to have for lunch?"

"You're the one that had to skip breakfast, you decide."

"Mexican then, it's my favorite."