A/N: written for Trope Bingo Round 11: Road Trip.

"I thought we agreed on where we were staying, Logan."

Logan glared at him over the top of the fuel bowser. They had agreed on it, till Victor had decided to throw the rules out the fucking window and start flirting with the cleaner at the motel. He grunted in response, sat down on his Harley, and waited for Creed to finish filling his tank.

Something, or someone, had been leaving them breadcrumbs along a thousand mile trail that led straight to a Weapon X facility in Canada. Remus was already on her way alongside Creed's sister, Clara, and so far as he knew Laura was playing catch-up. The breadcrumbs were dead bodies, the trail messages written in blood. It was as if someone were taunting him, daring him to find them. Pieces of his past, or what few fragments he recognised, were scattered over the trail, alongside pieces of everyone else's pasts.

Fine, Victor thought, Logan could party on his own. He just wanted to find out who was messing with his head again and where they were. The moment he pinpointed their real location, he'd be on their doorstep ready to rip their throat open and tear their vertebrae out one at a time. "You got a problem, runt?"

"Keep it in your pants from now on," Logan snapped.

Victor laughed and slapped his hand on his knee, his stomach and shoulders shaking as he leaned against the bowser. His pants? That was cheap coming from Wolverine. After all, his girlfriends had a strange habit of dying not long after they got involved with him. "I can't help it if all the pretty girls like me better than you. I'm not the one carrying knives in the bedroom."

"For once in your pathetic life, Creed, shut up." Logan started his bike, paid the attendant, and took off without a second thought. Fists clenched around the handlebars, he let Victor's words float through his mind and down into the bubbling pit of rage and anger the bastard provoked within him. Some things just couldn't be helped and his temper when sparked by Creed was one of them.

His smile was cold and cruel and reflected the sadistic glee in his eyes as Victor tossed a twenty dollar note at the attendant. Maybe tonight he'd have some real fun and Logan would be at the centre of it. He'd tried pushing Logan into his own Red Zone, but nothing seemed to work. Not his girlfriends dying, not his friends being tortured, not even his family being slaughtered in front of him. Whatever Xavier'd done to his mind, it was helping him keep a tight lid on that rage.

"This is kinda fun," Victor said as he caught up to Logan. "You, me 'n' revenge together on the open road."

Logan rolled his eyes and focused on keeping his bike upright. With the wind buffeting his face, his fringe was being constantly blown into his eyes and irritating them. "It's not fun at all."

"'cause Red ain't here, or 'cause the girls keep running away when they see your ugly face?"

Jesus, was he ever going to change or would Logan be hearing this shit till the day he finally died? "They keep running 'cause you smell like a fucking grave. When's the last time you took a shower?"

"This morning."

"Uh-huh."

Logan had to be deaf when he slept because Victor swore he and the cleaner lady had been making enough noise to wake even Blackheart and Mephistopheles. The smell had been pretty ripe too, something that'd impressed even himself. He'd never thought a scent could linger that long, or fill a room that much. "You need to get laid, runt, you're too cranky."

"Maybe when we get back to New York."

"Or when Remus shows up."

"Shut up, Victor." They'd done it once, maybe twice, and now he was regretting ever getting drunk enough to tell Creed about it. His healing factor could only take so much before it burnt out and left him feeling like a regular mutant. Ten bottles of absinthe was usually enough to get him to the point of being genuinely drunk, and a bottle of tequila after that could ply his mouth open.

"Or maybe we pull over, you whip it out and let those claws out too."

"If you speak another word between here and Canada, I'll cut your head off. Understand?"

Well that certainly sounded like an interesting way of having sex. "Which head you talking about?"

"Victor!"

"Fine. You're a buzzkill, y'know that? You suck the life out of the party every single time. It's probably why you're still single."

"You wanna fight? Save it for Canada! And ring your sister and find out where the hell she is. I want to hit that facility tonight."

"Sir, yes, sir," Victor mocked, giving a salute with his left middle finger. "Anything else, sir?"

"Go fuck yourself."