*Author's Note: So, here's an X-Men fanfic. I got this idea from a story that was written by an ex friend of mine. Our stories are completely different from each other's so there's no copying here. My story is more about the relationship between James Logan Howlett and his older brother Victor Creed (a.k.a. Dog Logan). There is incest so if you don't like, then don't read.

*Disclaimer: I do not own X-men, if I did, there would be a lot more gay and lesbian couples (which honestly isn't so bad).

Chapter #1: Long Road Home

~xX-Xx~

Logan packed the last of his belongings into the bed of his 1995 Ford truck and fastened the tarp down over everything. He glanced up at the dark school, thinking of all the good (and bad) memories he had within those walls. He sighed and climbed behind the wheel, it was time to go and reminiscing about the past wouldn't make his leaving any easier.

That's why he didn't say a word about this, he wouldn't be able to leave if the team knew—he cared too much about them. He didn't want to have to see the hurt in their eyes and the sadness on their scents, it would be too much for him. A silent goodbye in the dead of night was better for everyone and so that's what he did, he bid his goodbye to the sleeping school and drove away before he could change his mind.

It wasn't long before the old truck rolled to a stop in front of the Brotherhood house and the short burly man hopped onto the ground. He crossed the yard, smelling the scent of his elder brother, and met with the larger man a moment later by the garage.

"Bout time, Runt," Victor said, stepping out of the shadows with a bag. "Been waitin' fer an hour."

"Sorry, Vic, had to finish packing," he glanced at the motorcycle nearby. "Let's get your stuff loaded."

The blond grabbed his other bag, having only a few belongings since most were already in Canada, and helped his younger brother load the bike onto the trailer attached to the truck. Once they got it fastened down next to Logan's bike, he tossed his bags under the tarp and joined the other in the cab of the truck.

"Ready t' go?" Logan asked.

"Been ready fer a long time, Runt." A very long time. Ever since they split up after Stryker, the elder brother had wanted nothing more than to take the other home where he could have him all to himself. He had been trying for years to get Jimmy—he refused to call him 'Logan'—to leave with him and was surprised, but very happy, that the other man agreed this time.

"Wanna break open that case of beer, Vic?"

The larger man tore open the cardboard box of cheap beer sitting on the seat between them and tossed a can to the smaller man. He got himself a can and the two popped the tab and took a drink to their future, one toasting to his capture and the other toasting to his freedom. They then lit a couple of cigars and started smoking them.

The sun broke across the horizon, alerting the two brothers of a new day and the start of a new life. They still had a long ways to go before they arrived at their home, but at least the hardest part of their journey was over. That is, until Logan's cell phone went off.

Victor growled as the phone rang. He hated cell phones and tried to grab his brother's to destroy it, but Logan held it away. "Get rid of it!" he yelled, not wanting the X-Kiddies to take away his baby brother again.

"Hold on," Logan said and glanced at the screen to see Scott's name. He sighed, the boy was going to worry, but instead of answering, he ignored the call and turned his cell phone off. "Don't worry, Vic, I'm not gonna let them tear us apart, okay?"

The elder brother grinned, happy that his baby brother chose him over that team of his again. It made him want to have some fun with the younger man, but a loud growl from his stomach made him forget about that. "Let's go hunt fer some food."

"There's a town a few miles away," the smaller man told the other, not wanting to waste time hunting in the woods. It would take too long to hunt and cook their meal—Victor couldn't cook to save his life—especially if they wanted to get home and away from the X-Men. The sooner they were in Canada, the better.

The blonde man sighed. He was hoping they would go hunting so that he could jump the younger man and help him cheer up. But they could always do that later—and they will if Victor has anything to say about it. His cock twitched at the thought of mounting his Jimmy.

The short dark-haired man could smell the arousal stirring in the other and he growled. What he didn't need right now was a horny Victor trying to fuck him before they left the United States. "Vic, whatever yer thinkin' bout, stop."

"I ain't thinkin' bout nothin'." That was a complete lie and the other knew it.

"The hell ya ain't," Logan muttered, "And we ain't fuckin' 'til we're in Canada, got it?"

The elder brother huffed, irritated now that his baby brother would cock block him like that. But he knew from past trips home that it wouldn't be long before they crossed the border into their home country. He had waited this long for a good romp with Jimmy, a few more hours couldn't hurt. "Fine," he grumbled.

Five or so minutes later, the two men found themselves in a quiet small town that had barely woken up. The Ford was parked in front of a quaint little diner that welcomed their noses with the delectable scents of meat sizzling on the grill as the brothers walked through the doors. Their stomachs growled as they found themselves a booth far from the other customers, one being a local sheriff.

"I saw a gas station on the way in so we're gonna stop there for a few cases of beer," the younger man said.

"Good, 'cause we ran out."

"No thanks to you, Vic."

The elder growled. "Yer the one who finished off the last can!" His raised voice caught the attention of the others in the diner.

The younger growled back. "Least I didn't polish off half a case in an hour!"

"I ain't been polishin' nothin', Runt."

"It's an expression, ya dumb housecat!"

The two men were ready to meet in a vicious battle of teeth and claws—and they would have too if not for the appearance of the only fearless waitress on duty. "So, Boys," she snapped her gum, "Anything to drink?"

Logan flashed a decent smile. "Yes, I'll have coffee, caffeinated, and my brother'll have white milk."

"Who says ya can order fer me?" Victor growled.

The young man looked at his elder brother with a raised brow and asked in a calm voice, "So you don't want milk?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then shut yer trap!" he snapped at the blonde, then turned back to the waitress with the decent smile on his face again. "Also, we want two orders of the house special, the number 3, the number 6, and the number 8."

The woman just stared at Logan, her mouth hanging open a bit. She'd never had a customer order that much food for just two people, not even the huge truckers that often came through their little town.

"Don't ferget the meat, Jimmy."

"Oh, yeah, and we want four side orders of sausage links and four side orders of bacon," he glanced at his brother, "That all?"

"Fer now," the elder lit a cigar after the waitress left with their order, "Won't be too long 'fore we're in Canada."

Logan nodded once, lighting a cigar of his own, and watched the woman return to the table with their drinks. He took a sip from the cup of coffee, glancing at the diner behind his brother and taking note of the people inside of it.

There was the waitress, an older woman with a bright red pile of hair on top of her head and long manicured vibrantly painted nails on her fingers. She wore a simple white outfit, with a red and white checkered apron around her waist, and white tennis shoes. Several bangle bracelets were on each of her wrists and large earrings hung from her earlobes. She smelled like spearmint gum and cigarette smoke.

There was only one cook and he kept himself hidden in the kitchen. But from the smell of him, one could tell that he was a burly man that preferred the natural musk of a man and the scent of juicy meats frying on the grill. He hummed along to a song on a country radio station.

A uniformed officer, wearing a tan shirt and brown pants instead of the traditional blue or black of the city cops, sat at the car counter. In his hands was a newspaper, a local one from the looks of it, and beside of him sat a cup of coffee with sugar and creamer mixed into it. He had the faint scent of gunpowder and old blood on his skin.

A younger man, early 20's, sat in a booth on the far side of the diner, drinking orange juice and looking over a farm equipment magazine. He wore a pair of worn denim overalls over a dirty white t-shirt. Light brown tufts of hair stuck out from his green John Deer hat and his brown eyes scanned over the thin pages of his magazine.

"Here's your food, Boys," the waitress said, stopping beside their table with a cart that held ten plates of food on it. She passed first the number 8, then the number 3, then the number 6, the house special, and last the side orders of sausage links and bacon. "Hope you boys are starving 'cause that's a lot of food."

"Gimme more milk," Victor ordered through a mouthful of omlet.

Logan growled and kicked the older man's shin under the table, making those green eyes narrow on him, "Manners." He watched the other swallow and grumble the word 'please'. "Good, Housecat," he glanced at the waitress, "Sorry 'bout him, he was raised by wolves."

"That's quite all right, honey, I've met worse people," she filled their cups and returned to her counter to refill the sheriff's cup of coffee.

The two brothers ate their meal in silence, one trying to be civil and the other scarfing down his food like an animal. There were a few refills to help wash down the eggs and meat, not because the food was so bad it stuck in their throats—which it didn't—but because it was so delicious that the men were eating too quickly and could have choked. Once they finished eating, only taking half an hour, the younger paid the bill and they left the diner to climb back into their truck.

"Need beer, Runt."

"I know, Vic." The younger started up the truck and they drove to the gas station two blocks down. "I'll fill up the tank so we don't run outta gas, then we'll get the beer."

"Got it." The blonde watched the smaller man hop out of the truck and step over to the gasoline pump. He thought about all the things he had planned for his baby brother, not just mounting him and having his way with him, but also hunting for him and bringing home the kills too. In the evenings they would sit next to the fire drinking beer and fall asleep there and cuddle together. It would be just like the good old days before they got involved with Stryker.

Victor often dreamed about those days and cursed the military man for ruining everything. He had been so close to making Jimmy his for life, but other people kept getting in the way. Like that one girl that tried to steal his baby brother away and he slaughtered her like all the others to save the younger man from her evil clutches.

He could still remember the kill, the taste of her filthy skin on his teeth, the feel of her unwashed blonde hair in his claws, the sound of her cries for mercy ringing in his ears, the scent of death filling his nostrils as he watched the fatty life force flow from her body and into the soft grassy earth below. Her green eyes—she said they were blue, but they were more green—stared up at him with a dead, glassy look, and he had to thank her 'cause if it wasn't for her, he never would've gotten his Jimmy back.

It made him happy to have his baby brother back in his life, but it would be pointless if the younger man wasn't happy too. He could smell the depression on the other's skin and he knew that he'd have to change so that the other wouldn't run away this time. He was smart enough to know that he was stupid and didn't have manners, but he had to try to make himself a better man. Their future together depended on it.

"Hey, dumbass," Logan said, rapping his knuckles on the glass of the passenger side window and startling the man inside the truck. He motioned to the two 24 pack cases of cheap beer that he held.

The older man opened the door and took the cases while his baby brother walked to the other side. He closed his door, set the cases between them, and cracked open the cardboard box. He tossed a can to Jimmy as they drove away.

"Thanks."

"Welcome."

~xX-Xx~

*Author's Note: so this is the first chapter of Brotherly Love, sorry if there wasn't a whole lot that happened. More will happen later, like a nice yummy lemon scene in the next chapter, after that who knows? Anyway, please review.

Ciao for now, readers. =^.^=