We're discussing something trivial, the banter is back, it feels good to have him slouching by my side. Really good. As we get to the top of the stairs, he stops, freezes.
I'm watching his face as it changes, as his pupils dilate. What the hell?
I glance down into the hall below and see what's got his attention.
Oh. Yeah, that'd do it.
He grabs my arm. "Later, Slim." His voice is husky.
But I know there'll be no 'later'.
He clatters down the stairs, almost clumsy, this man who can be silent as the wind and he's barely a pace away when Kurt turns to see him barreling down on him. Logan skids to a halt, the last time they met, he'd broken that aquiline blue nose.
They are both still for a heartbeat, then they fold into each other, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, fitting together seamlessly.
When they separate, the joy in Kurt's face makes him radiant. He's gentle and soft and fey and a bit pretty, despite the neat beard and he's so damn happy. And everyone likes Kurt to be happy.
I want to shake him. I can reach places in that wild man no one else can, I scratch an itch that he'll never touch, I know what Logan wants and needs, primal, jagged passions just about held in check by that iron will.
But, of course, I've got it the wrong way round, this has nothing to do with what Logan wants and needs and everything to do with what Kurt wants and needs. And if he wants Logan, he has him.
They touch each other's faces, they're both laughing, I go back down the corridor into the shadows.