Title: Even Then

Author: Gammameta

Continuity: Movieverse? It hardly matters, it's so short.

Rating: PG-13, language

Genre: Shipper fic

Summary: 'Someday I won't be young anymore, Logan.'

Author's Note: There's no excuse for me, I know. Been done before, clichéd, and schmaltzy. But, hey, at least it's not too long, too angst-y. Right? Anyway, a reject from my flailing epilogue. Toss What the hell…

They were in his truck when she asked. It'd been bothering her for some time, with this talk of maps, of the future. This town, that exit, next year, five years. Planned.

But she wanted to know where she'd be in fifty years, too.

He'd said he loved her, and she loved him.

She just didn't know if that would…continue.

And he seemed to bring it up, again and again.

'You're still young, darlin',' he'd said in response to something, nothing. Not in a mean way. A bit patronizing, perhaps. But he always stated it as though her being young were still an option, some kind of choice.

Something he still wanted her to have.

But that wasn't a choice for her. Wasn't a choice for him, either. Was she wrong to want to know how it would work? Was she wrong to want to know if they would fit?

'Someday I won't be young anymore, Logan,' she told him low, and he cocked his head at her for a moment, looked forward again to drive.

'I know.'

'Someday I'll be old,' she pressed, and he caught her balled hand, kissed it, placed it in his lap, staring straight ahead at the horizon.

'If I have anything to say about it, you will,' he returned evenly. Her fingers curled into the denim, she felt the heat from his thigh.

'That doesn't bother you? That—that I'll be old and gray someday, and you—'

He cleared his throat, eyes flicking to his mirrors, and the car was suddenly slowing, he was pulling over to the curbside. Tugged it into park, and he tugged on her hand. She almost didn't want to hear what he'd have to say.

'Look at me.' She did, and his eyes weren't nearly as intense as she expected. They were calmer and deep and secure. 'I've got you. For as long as I can. For as long as we have.'

She didn't know—was that what she was looking for? It didn't sound…secure.

'Even if I've got blue hair and dentures and a bag of knitting at my feet…?'

The corners of his eyes crinkled a bit, but his gaze drifted over her face, he traced a hand lazily through her hair. 'Even then.'

She gave a half-embarrassed snort-laugh, as she caught his hand, played with it in the space between them. 'Everyone will think I'm some sort of pervert, hanging on to you then.'

She tried not to let it matter that he pulled his hand away, but he just reached around, a sharp click from her seatbelt, and she was eased forward, sliding her across the vinyl of the seat, 'til he was nuzzling her neck, and she could hear him swallow. Maybe he was nervous, too. 'It'll be your turn.'

She didn't know why she believed him suddenly, but she did, flashing a smile to hide how much it meant, smoothing lines over his chest, and he was smiling, softly, back. 'No one thinks that,' she corrected mildly.

He grinned wolfishly, kissed her. 'Wouldn't matter, darlin',' he returned, arm slung around her, putting it in drive again, and she stayed there, feeling the muscles at play, warm and hard in his chest as he eased back on the road again.

Fuck the safety belt.

'I love you.'

Soft kiss to her hair. 'Love you, too.'