(KAI) Yeah, like I could ever draw an IC Logan.
Fuck you, Wolverine.
And your little personality quirks.
---
Chapter Two
---
He lit another. The first two had done nothing. Slow, slow drag, he tried, and he tried, and finally, his nerves began to unbunch.
"Stupid kid," he muttered, raking one hand up, through short, tangled hair. Now here was a concern; this kid, this stupid, dumbass kid with the soft hair and lean body. Sweet smiles and easy laughter. Beautiful eyes, provocative and unaware little swish of the hips as he walked. A growl, and a plume of smoke, and Logan leaned across the handlebars of the bike wearily.
Over, the river flew along quietly, occasionally choked by a floating tree or piece of junk, and was as black as night. The drive of rain the slammed against the surface provided a heady static, a white noise in the darkness that carried the older mutant far away, and left him feeling a bit cleaner for such thoughts. The cigarette smoldered even while he held one hand against the rain for it, and when it sizzled down to grey, ephemeral smoke, he kicked the bike down and gave the engine a buzz of life.
The roads were dark under the glaze of light at the front of Wolverine's motorcycle, but he sped easily enough along.
---
Kurt had finally fell. Had fallen quietly, without noticing, and did not notice the cold of the window as he slept. He had curled into himself, frowning and face smudged with little tears.
The rain fell into his dreams wetly, and he drowned in dark images, and cold, cold whispers of pain. A scene of Logan riding, water and dark clouds flanking him as the tires spun across flooded cement. Metal twisting, the bike going under, Wolverine flipping, helpless. His claws flash, red pools, flows, and Kurt tried to leave, to 'bamf', to escape. He doesn't want to see.
Doesn't want to see.
---
The garage opened with a groan and a considerable amount of strain, despite its high technology. The downpour continued on as Logan parked and closed. Perchance, he glanced up, saw a small silhouette in a lighted window. He narrowed dark eyes. It was nigh on two in the morning, and that was a student wing he saw lit and awake. Something would have to be said, at the least, though he cared little of the kids chose to night owl.
It was probably the hand of fate.
---
Inside, Kurt heard the ambulance come, rickety and screaming, and the thud of the feet that ran. Paramedics. He was crying again, crybaby Wagner. He laughed and it seemed hysterical. Thud, thud, thud, it was probably his heart. He moaned and screamed aloud, let it burst, let is burst right out of him. And then rain washed it down, so that even when Logan burst in, it was dreamscaped, and Kurt saw nothing more than the ghost of a dream.
He gibbered wildly in German for a moment, clawing and frightened, like a cat gone terrored, and Logan growled back and made it worse, though he did not want to. The younger mutant let in a gasping breath as the geist held him down on the window seat, one knee aside his hip and face so close he could taste the bitter smoke on his tongue.
"Kurt," Logan said darkly, jerking him a bit, and finding it swapped the back of the boy's head against the thick cushion almost painfully. The teen blinked huge, wet eyes at Logan's clear, unmangled face.
"You..." he struggled, "You..."
Logan watched in awe as the pretty golden eyes filled glassy with wetness like rain, and as tears slid hot down slim cheeks. "You are okay."
That relieved sigh put a knife in Logan's gut, and the smile that went with it, twisted and twisted it coldly, like affection and soft skin.
