Chapter Two
Logan was having a terrible vacation. It wasn't his idea of a good time spending five full days exploring churches, monuments, and history in a desolate winter landscape whose only redeeming trait besides churches, monuments, and history was the easy availability of a stiff drink. It would have been endurable if he'd been able to shake off the cold by ending each day plying his naked skin against Kurt's warm, velvet fur. But on that score, too, he was out of luck. Over the past five days, Logan had barely seen Kurt, let alone touched him. Kurt used his image inducer nearly all the time, so that Logan only glimpsed his real face and body at night and in the morning, when they shared various hotel rooms with Peter. They could have gotten separate rooms but Kurt insisted otherwise, something about not making Peter feel like a third wheel, and asserting that although things had changed, nothing had changed. Logan was sure Kurt knew that was bullshit; even Peter could tell things would never be the same again.
But there was no time, and especially no space, to argue the issue. So Logan grit his teeth and wasn't quite successful at giving Kurt a wide berth. After just two days of sharing rooms with separate beds, Logan had started dropping Kurt not-quite-subtle hints to sneak off into various bar and restaurant bathrooms, hints Kurt stubbornly refused to acknowledge. Logan even hacked Kurt's image inducer to turn him into Angelina Jolie in the hopes of stealing a tabloid-worthy kiss, but to no avail; Kurt simply laughed off the joke, and said he'd get back at him later. Always later.
But it wasn't just lust that was making Logan anxious. It was also doubt, and the ever-present guilt he was only able to assuage when Kurt's body was in easy reach. Separated from that physical connection, it all come flooding back, all the reasons it would never work and why he never should have started any of it to begin with. Just as he'd done the very first time he laid his hand on Kurt's body in something more than friendship, Logan cursed himself, knowing that each step forward was worth two steps back. He also knew that by now, going all the way back was impossible; it would take several lifetimes to traverse that distance, and Logan had lived too many lifetimes already.
Yet the hopelessness of the situation only made Logan want Kurt more; knowing their time together would be short, he was desperate to make the most of it. Truly, there was no escape from wanting Kurt. Away from him, Logan wanted to seize whatever moments they had in a quick burn, a glorious conflagration of passion whose memory could last a lifetime. With him, his desperation was transformed into an absolute conviction that their connection was immortal, too powerful to ever burn out or face away in any of death, disaster, or hurt.
Logan was still struggling with those thoughts and desires on their fifth day in Russia, when they finally made it to the gravestone of Peter's parents. Together, they spent long moments gazing down at the stone monument that also marked Peter's vanished boyhood, paying tribute to a life uprooted and forever changed by the same genetic accident afflicting them all. Afterwards, they retired to the closest bar, where they all did their best to throw themselves into drinking and reminiscing. For his part, Logan also did his best not to hungrily search Kurt's disguised face for hints of his real self, or to suggest anything other than needing to piss when he got up to use the bathroom.
Kurt watched Logan head toward the bathroom and breathed a silent sigh of relief that he'd managed to leave without innuendo. That certainly hadn't been the case throughout the week, when Logan had plagued him with secret hands and feet under tables and around corners, sometimes slipping a quick, tickling touch inside Kurt's shirt at his collarbone or midsection, other times brushing his lips against the back of Kurt's neck or jaw when Kurt passed too closely behind him, or when Logan went out of his way to help Kurt on with his coat. The day before, as he'd eased past Kurt in a booth, Logan had even used his enhanced senses to find Kurt's invisible tail and pinch it, causing Kurt to choke on his beer even as a rush of heat swept over his thighs that he was angry at Logan for making him deal with, when he was trying so hard to maintain the appearance of what usually passed for normalcy.
It wasn't that Kurt wanted to deny anything; it was clear Peter knew he was sleeping with Logan, and that even the kiss on the way to the airport had been a confirmation, rather than a revelation. And yet, thoroughly against his rational will, Kurt still worried about implications. At his core, he was deeply troubled by the prospect of being treated differently by an old friend whom he knew looked up to him as a leader and mentor. Although Kurt wasn't truly afraid of rebuke, from Peter or anyone else whose opinion he valued, he was afraid of acceptance in the form of knowing looks and eye rolls, afraid of his already ill-defined relationship with Logan being reduced to a joke among his friends and teammates. Kurt couldn't handle that, to be made a fool of for decisions he already feared were foolish, or even dangerous. Even worse was the way those decisions—and those desires—seemed increasingly foolish the longer he and Logan were away from their isolated world in Newark. Confronted with reality, the romance didn't fade, though it did start to seem untenable, a naïve dream exposed against the solidity of Peter's sure, unchanged identity.
Kurt took a long sip of beer. When he put down the mug and looked up, Peter was watching him, affixing him plaintively with his wide, open face and grey eyes.
"We must talk about it, Kurt."
Kurt did his best to return Peter's gaze. "About… what?"
"You. And Logan."
Kurt had been anticipating such a question, and was actually surprised it had taken as long as it had for things to come to a head. Yet he still made an effort to dodge the inevitable, smiling nonchalantly as he once again raised his mug to his lips.
"Really, there's nothing to—"
"How long have you been together?"
"We're not—"
"How long have you been having sex?"
Kurt took his time swallowing, realizing that Peter wasn't going to be easily deterred.
"A few months," he said. "And… a few times before that."
Peter nodded slowly. "I cannot say I am terribly surprised."
Kurt felt a hot flash against his face. "I'm not gay I just—" he bit his tongue painfully, scrunching his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "God... I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry. It shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. What I'm trying to say is that before Logan…"
"I understand. You love him."
Kurt opened his eyes. "He's my friend."
"A friend you are sleeping with," Peter reminded him mildly. "A friend you have been sleeping with for years. A friend whose look or touch tempts you to sneak away into the bathroom."
"Uh..."
"Please, Kurt. You and Logan both tend to forget—I am no longer a wide-eyed boy straight off the commune."
Kurt sighed. "I'm sorry, Piotr. I don't want you to feel like… The truth is, I don't know what this is, or if it will last. Except that with Logan, nothing ever lasts very long."
"Except friendship."
"You see my dilemma." Kurt made a rueful salute with his mug before taking another long sip.
"I see it is not easy," said Peter. "But then, things of value rarely are."
"Ja," Kurt agreed heavily, mug clunking on the wooden table. "I know. Believe me—I know."
Peter regarded him seriously, laying his hand on the table between them. "He cares for you, Kurt. More than I have ever seen him care for anyone."
"I know that, too," said Kurt, staring out the dark, frosted window.
"So…?"
"Even if it was…" Kurt ground his teeth as he trailed off. "In my experience, love isn't always enough. It rarely is, in fact."
"That has not been my experience."
Kurt looked at him. "But Logan is not Kitty."
"Da," Peter agreed. "Logan is here. Katya is not."
Kurt acknowledged the truth of Peter's words with a long, sympathetic look that he hoped was at least somewhat decipherable through the veil of his inducer. The moment was broken by Logan, sidling back up to the table.
"What'd I miss?" Logan asked lightly, dropping back into his seat. "Anything interesting?"
"No," Peter assured him, flashing a small, cryptic smile. "Not really."
They all turned at the sound of a beer bottle breaking over the counter. Kurt caught a familiar glint in Logan's eye and knew at once that their evening was about to get a lot more interesting. And he realized he didn't mind—anything was better than more alcohol-soaked heart-to-hearts about things that both alcohol and the heart could only complicate, but never resolve. So Kurt threw himself into the bar fight with gusto; after so many weeks of bed rest, it felt good to test his strength, to enjoy the flex of his muscles and remember what it was to be at home in his body, completely on his own terms.
Afterwards, at the train station, Kurt was feeling so elated that when Peter disappeared into the ticket booth, he grabbed the lapel of Logan's jacket, pulling him up against his body and the wall behind the booth's open door. Logan didn't need to be asked twice, pressing Kurt back against the wall as he pushed his tongue deep into his mouth. Kurt's eyes were bleary when Logan finally pulled away, but not enough to miss Peter frowning down at both of them over Logan's shoulder.
Said Peter, "'Errol Flynn caught in passionate embrace with Canadian lumberjack at Siberian train station.' You would give the National Enquirer a run for their money, my friends."
Kurt laughed, too happy to remember his fears. Peter smiled back so that only Logan was left in the lurch.
"'Lumberjack'?" Logan echoed.
Kurt only laughed harder as he slipped out of Logan's arms and went to Peter's side.
"Come, Logan," Kurt called over his shoulder, skipping down the platform next to Peter. "We wouldn't want to miss the train."
But of course the good times couldn't last—after all, they were X-Men. Before dawn the next morning, all three of them had been taken prisoner, awaking from a brutally secured oblivion to find themselves in a Red Room torture chamber.