Song: watch?v=a4fwTtNx750
Logan made his way through the dimly lit corridors, nodding to a few people as he went, moving easily but impatiently, eager to get back to Rogue. She'd had a long ass day, he figured she could use some sleep. But he'd had nothing to leave her to explain away his absence if she woke. He was an asshole, but he wasn't THAT big a dick to take her virginity and just up and disappear. He didn't have much experience in the matter, his tastes usually running towards a little more… seasoned women, but he assumed that that would not be a pleasant way to wake up after giving the deepest part of herself to him. Whatever this was, it had better be fuckin' life or death…
The raucous sounds of laughter and snatches of song filled the night air as kids took full advantage of kicking off their weekend. How long had they been down in that cavern? Hours it seemed. Not nearly long enough… What the hell did Chuck want that was so damn important that he had to violate Logan's mind in the middle of the night? Not that he minded being pulled away from that particular dream, but still… a guy had rights.
Professor Xavier replaced the receiver with a whoop and shuffled through the papers on his desk impatiently. Looking up as Logan approached, he quite openly studied him as he paused just inside the door, his profile dark against the warm glow from the hall at his back, and leaned against the frame, face impassive. Charles smiled without humor.
"Ah, Logan. Thank you for finally joining us." He announced in boarding-school English, his greeting containing a strong suggestion of reproach.
"Who's the furball?" Logan answered, cocking his head towards the big furry blue giant taking up real estate in the middle of the office.
"Hank McCoy. Secretary of Mutant Affairs." His chest puffed up as he introduced himself. The very way the man stood spoke of the pride he took in his position. Logan half expected him to beat on it.
He noted the Professor's set face, clamped mouth and fixed brilliant blue eyes, displaying an uncanny awareness that never failed to severely unnerve him. With a deliberately casual movement, he smirked and redirected his annoyance towards the burly blue stranger. With a curt nod he strolled into the office and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, not in the mood to extend one in bullshit pleasantries. He had better places to be.
"Right, right. The Secretary. Nice suit." He mused softly, mockingly.
"Henry, this is-"
"Wolverine. I hear you're quite the animal." Hank answered with a facile tongue as he scrutinized him from behind small square glasses with the air of superiority and conviction.
Logan crossed his steel chorded arms over his chest, eyebrow raising a fraction in amused contempt at the audacity of this fuzzy blue monkey in a suit staring down his nose at him.
"Look who's talking." There was defiance in his gravelly tone as well as subtle challenge, knuckles aching to cut the smug son of a bitch down to size.
Hank's tall black clad figure stiffened, meeting Logan's accusing glare without flinching. Logan flashed him a feral grin, eyes suddenly filled with a fierce sparkling. He'd struck a nerve. The Wolverine inside paced with restless agitation. Part of him begged for the furball to make a move. It'd been too long since he'd had a good fight and he was itching for it. Something deep and vicious and primal howling to be turned loose…
After a long pause during which Logan waited and the Secretary waged an inner battled for self control, Hank forced his lips to part in a sharp toothed smile, pretending not to understand the meaning behind Logan's words. For the sake of diplomacy…
The Wolverine found a perverse pleasure in this as triumph flooded through him. The Professor sighed loudly, in no mood to be referee to the pissing contest.
"Hank is here about our friend Rogue."
Logan was caught off guard by the sudden vibrancy of the Professor's irritation at the unwelcome primeval display and turned, not missing his emphasis on the word friend.
"Ah, yes. Right you are, Charles."
Hank pointedly turned his back on Logan, reaching inside his coat pocket and produced what Logan thought at first to be a large metal flask, and strode over to the Professor's desk, placing it down in front of him. Chuck inspected the box and picked it up, turning it over in his hands.
"Is this what we discussed?"
"Yes. Far more powerful." Hank spoke with the calculating precision that only a man who was comfortable spending his weekends in a lab coat and never getting laid possibly could. The fine hair on the back of Logan's neck bristled.
"Good, good." Charles nodded, eyes narrow beneath dark drawn brows.
"…You're sure you want to do this?"
The furry dude's suggestion and obvious hesitation intrigued Logan as he listened with rising irritation. The Professor spread his hands regretfully and gave the slightest shrug, "If there was any other way..." he shook his head for lack of any other explanation.
"What the hell is it?" Logan growled, growing hot under the collar at all the damn suspense.
Xavier sighed again, smiling benignly as if he was dealing with a temperamental child, his expression suddenly one of pained tolerance and borderline disappointment.
"Our lives. That I'm leaving in your hands."
"God help us all." Beast muttered, staring down as he fit his thick, clawed fingers together at his waist.
Logan's gaze lowered in confusion.
What's in the box…?
Author's Note: What can I say? You fabulous people inspire me. Trying to get as much out as I can while the weather's bad & no one wants to buy a house lol. More reviews, please!