Disclaimer: "Yeah, it's going to save Elizabeth." –Captain Jack Sparrow
A/N: What are updating schedules anyway?
Part IV: Logan Howlett and the Rehearsal Dinner Crisis
Piotr scowls at the wedding photographer.
The wedding photographer, for his part, does not appear to notice this. Piotr is slightly insulted. He's gotten used to people noticing when he is upset.
When you are a six foot six inch man who can turn into solid steel, most people tend to pay attention when you scowl at them. Piotr hasn't always been happy about this, since he is by nature a very gentle person, but now he's wishing that this buffoon would look over and fear him.
He feels like he should do some kind of penance for thinking that, because Piotr is a very nice person. Usually.
"Kitty," the photographer says, "would you come stand by the window over here, please? I need to check the lighting in here."
"Sure," Kitty chirps agreeably. Piotr maybe melts a little. She is so sweet.
Kitty turns by the window and the light catches her face just right. The artist in Piotr gasps in delight. Luckily, Piotr does not actually make this sound, because breathy sighs over lighting are for nerds.
Piotr is thankful that Remy ran off to Louisiana again, actually. Remy would be insufferable right about now.
"Great, Kitty!" The photographer beams. "You're a natural!"
Kitty laughs. "I'm just standing here!"
"And you're doing a great job of it!" The photographer winks.
It's the wink that does it. Piotr is striding across the room before he realizes he's doing it.
"Katya," he says. Kitty tilts her head back to look at him, her face breaking into a sunny smile when she sees him. He can't help smiling back.
"Betsy is looking for you," he blurts out. This is a lie, but Piotr couldn't think of anything more truthful or plausible at the moment.
"Oh!" Kitty says. "Sorry," she says to the photographer. "Got to go take care of our special girl!" Kitty is sort of like everyone's grandmother sometimes. She's been calling Betsy "our special girl" ever since she found out that the wedding is going to be held at the Institute. She pats Piotr's arm as she walks by and angels pop out of the ceiling and burst into song.
Or not really, but almost.
The photographer opens his mouth, probably to be smug in Piotr's general direction, but Piotr cuts him off.
"Listen," he says, as Russian as possible. It's very Russian. "Katya is very nice girl."
"Kitty?" the photographer asks. "Yeah, she's great."
"Good," Piotr nods. "We are agreed. You will not bother her."
The photographer laughs. "Uh, I'm not bothering her. She's helping me help you guys with this wedding."
Piotr narrows his eyes to achieve the maximum effect of steely blue eyes. That's a lot of steel blue. Piotr is very effective.
"Just so it stays that way," he says. "I would not like to have to bend you upside down and grind forehead into sidewalk."
The photographer stares, nonplussed. "Uh, what?" he says.
Piotr blinks innocently. "What? Is not good English? What I say?"
"Uh, that you were going to grind me into the sidewalk?"
"Ah. No. Cultural misunderstanding," Piotr says, straight-faced. "Wrong words, I apologize."
"No worries, man," the photographer says, but he gives Piotr an uneasy look and doesn't say anything to Kitty when she comes back, puzzled, to tell Piotr that she's pretty sure that Logan is with Betsy now, and is Piotr sure she wanted Kitty?"
"Maybe my mistake, Katya," he admits shamelessly. "My English, you know."
Remy would not fall for this, but Remy, luckily, is not here. Kitty doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't call him on it, so Piotr offers the sulking photographer his most coolly pleasant grin and goes off to call Remy.
000
It's not that Rogue isn't having a good time. She is. She is having a very good time, and don't let the expression on her face fool you.
It's just that when Remy had said "Come help me with the catering," she had thought he meant "help make phone calls," or "help argue with snobby people," not "come hunt crawdads in an alligator infested swamp with me."
"It's not Remy's fault y' didn't think of all the possibilities," he says. His pants are rolled up to his knees, and he's barefoot and shirtless. His hair is held out of his eyes by a soaking wet bandana.
This is true. Rogue did not, in fact, think of all the possibilities, but she can't say she isn't pleased with this particular outcome.
000
It is 6:30 in the evening, the rehearsal is starting in half an hour, the maid of honor is missing, and the bride still hasn't come out of her room.
Wade is sitting on the floor outside of Betsy and Jean's door when Logan finds him. His knees are pulled up to his chest and he's in the middle of reciting the most awful poem Logan has ever heard.
"And your hair is like peonies, your skin like an elephant's tusks–"
"What the heck, Wade?" Logan isn't sure he actually wants to know but the current state of affairs can't stand, so he has to ask.
"Ivory," Wade replies, like that explains anything, and then goes back to caterwauling at Betsy's door.
"How is she supposed to forgive you when you're making sounds like that?" Logan asks, leaning against the wall next to Wade.
Wade finishes his stanza and slams his head back into the wall. Logan winces; even though it won't hurt Wade, it's still hard to watch him do something that would give anyone else a concussion.
Wade bangs his head one more time for good measure. He jerks away from the wall in surprise when an answering bang comes from the other side.
"Stop hitting your head!" Betsy yells from inside the room.
Wade turns wide eyes to Logan. "She does care!" he says. Logan rolls his eyes.
"Of course she does," he growls. "Don't be stupid." He reaches over Wade's head to knock on the door. "Betsy?" he says. "It's Logan."
"Go away," Betsy calls.
"Nope," says Logan. "Don't worry, I won't let Wade in." He opens the door. It isn't locked. Wade doesn't move from his position on the floor, but he does give Logan the most pitiful look he can muster.
"Betsy?" Logan says, closing the door behind him. She's sitting in the middle of the bed, arms crossed over her chest. Her purple hair looks frizzy, like she stuck her finger in an electric socket.
Logan understands. Talking to Wade does sometimes feel like getting struck by lightning.
"What is the problem here?" he asks wearily, crossing his arms. It's scarier when Logan does it. Betsy huffs and looks away.
"He's just so disconnected sometimes," she says. "He pretends that nothing bothers him, nothing matters to him, and he won't talk to me!"
"The scars?" Logan guesses.
"Anything!" Betsy flings out one hand to gesture at the door. "He can't be serious for even a second, lately."
Logan is regretting his non-agreement to be Wade's best man even more now that he has to act as some kind of relationship negotiator. "Try seeing from his point of view," he starts half-heartedly, not really sure if that's the right direction to go.
"Logan, we're not having a difference of opinion here, we're having a breakdown of communication!"
Logan throws up his hands. "Fine!" he hollers. "Whatever. You know, Wade is nervous, okay, kiddo? He's nervous about getting married and he's nervous about what your lives will be like when you're married and he's nervous about whether or not any ninja are going to show up and crash the wedding at the last minute. The only thing he's sure about right now is that he's stupidly in love with you, so maybe if you two could get your crap together, you'll both be able to figure out what's the most important thing going on here."
He turns around and leaves the room. Wade stares up at him in astonishment as he passes, mouth hanging open.
"Wade?" Logan hears Betsy say quietly.
"Yeah?" Wade answers, not-quietly.
"You want to come in?"
Logan smirks to himself as he clomps down the stairs.
One disaster down…
000
Brian wanders through the mansion looking for Logan. He feels a bit at a loss with Betsy's attention occupied and his various young admirers dispersed to their own business.
Also, he may be slightly lost. Physically.
"Hello?" he tries, certain that with mutants everywhere, someone will hear him. If they do, however, they're ignoring him, because nobody answers.
"Right," he says. "Stiff upper lip." He walks down three different hallways that all look exactly the same.
It's with some relief that he realizes the corridor he's currently in looks familiar. "Ah," he says. "At last."
He pulls open the nearest door and nearly drowns in the load of flowers that tumbles out.
"Well," he says. "I suppose asking my prospective brother-in-law if he wished to try and get to know each other better was a mistake."
After the meltdown with Betsy, Brian had tried to suggest some methods of reconciling the two of them, but Wade had just fallen deeper and deeper into melancholy, upon which Brian had suggested that they try imbibing some liquid courage. Unfortunately, drinking with a mutant of Wade's constitution hardly gave Brian a sporting chance, and he was forced to drop out early.
Brian had then challenged Wade to a test of skill, a boxing match to release some tension. Wade had seemed a little happier at the prospect, but Logan had shut it down quickly.
"No," he'd said. "He'll knock your lights out, kid."
Brian can only assume that this statement was addressed to himself, incorrect as it may be. Brian Braddock is more than capable of holding his own, despite his good looks and gentle nature.
After that, Logan had told Brian to find something to entertain himself until they could solve the Betsy/Wade crisis. Brian, not finding the crisis to be all that alarming, since he had grown up with Betsy and knew exactly how extreme her mood swings could be, had decided to explore the mansion.
This is backfiring now.
He offers himself a consoling smile in the hall mirror and raises his chin. "Right ho! On again!"
000
Logan is annoyed, which is very normal, because he can't find Brian Braddock, which isn't. The man has been underfoot since he got here, and all of a sudden he's just gone?
Logan is not very impressed with the level of competence he's receiving from his wedding prep team.
"Have you seen that alliterative nightmare?" he asks Kurt. Brian Braddock, Betsy's brother, is too much for anyone to live with, in Logan's opinion.
"Nope," says Kurt, and teleports away before Jean can catch him. She's been after him for suit fittings all day.
Jean huffs in frustration. "No," she says before Logan can ask. "I haven't seen Brian. Or Kitty," she adds venomously, "or Rogue, or Scott."
Logan chooses not to comment on the lack of Scott. It's just wiser for everyone.
Kitty, though.
"I'll bet that photographer is with her." Logan says "photographer" the same way most people say "mobster," or "door-to-door salesman."
"Probably," Jean says darkly. "We're starting at seven," she adds, "regardless of whether or not everyone is here." She stomps away in a way that would be more impressive if she wasn't wearing strappy pink pumps.
Logan isn't actually sure that those shoes are called pumps, but he doesn't know the name of any other kind of women's shoes besides stilettos.
Chuck rolls up silently and says, "Logan." Logan jumps about a mile in the air and then turns the air bluish-green with swearing. Chuck waits him out patiently. When he's finished, Chuck says, "Shouldn't you be getting dressed?"
Sometimes, Logan suspects that Xavier actually sends his mind off to Scotland to chat with Moira McTaggert. That's the only explanation for how he can be so calm all the time.
"Yes," Logan growls. "But I can't find Braddock, and Marty McInmate is off somewhere with Kitty, so I don't have the time."
"Hmm," says Chuck. "May I presume that 'Marty McInmate' is our wedding photographer?"
"He's been to prison," Logan insists.
"Based on his tattoos?" Chuck says reprovingly. "Logan, we do not judge people based on their physical appearance."
Logan, who does judge people based on their physical appearance, though not necessarily in the same way most people do, snorts. "I'm not," he says. "I'm judging him based on his smell."
"Logan."
"He smells like bell peppers."
"Logan."
"And industrial strength soap," Logan continues smugly.
Chuck sighs and closes his eyes. "And your conclusion is?" he asks.
Logan leans forward and nods sagely. "Prison," he says.
Chuck sighs again, as if Logan is being unreasonable for not wanting Kitty to bring strangers with cameras to their mansion home full of teenagers with mutant powers that sometimes manifest in physical ways that they may feel slightly insecure about.
"Oh," Chuck's face softens and his smile is warm enough to toast a marshmallow.
Logan scowls. "Stay out of my head, Chuck," he grumbles.
"Of course," his friend says, still smiling as he wheels away. Logan rubs both hands down his face and goes looking for Kitty.
He tries a few rooms and even a couple of closets, just in case. He's been living with teenagers for a long time now. He knows what's up.
The second closet door he opens spills an entire floral shop on his head.
"KURT!"
000
Betsy holds Wade's hand the same way she would hold a time bomb: with expectation of eventual explosion but a secret little thrill all the same.
"I can't believe we're getting married," Wade says gleefully. They're walking down to their rehearsal together, though Wade will leave her outside the doors to the ballroom, or whatever is the actual name of the huge space Xavier is letting them use.
Betsy skips a little, enjoying the way her skirt swishes around her thighs. It's not her wedding dress she's wearing, obviously, but the frothy black material of the miniskirt is so different from her usual attire that she feels almost as dressed up. Decidedly not fancy. Being a model means wearing thousands of different clothes every week, some of them hideous, some of them gorgeous, all of them fancy, fancy, fancy.
Rogue picked out the wedding rehearsal clothes, and Betsy has never been more grateful. She looks great in black.
Jean had been horrified, but Betsy had reminded her that the actual wedding would be different, of course, and that had pacified her. Mostly.
Betsy steals a glance at her fiancé, who is skipping along next to her and swinging her arm. If she looks good in black, then Wade looks delicious.
She'll have to thank Rogue all over again when she gets back. After she yells at her for leaving in the first place.
"Do you want me to wear the image generator tomorrow?" Wade asks, suddenly thoughtful. Betsy blinks in surprise. The thought has literally never crossed her mind.
"Of course not," she says. "I'm marrying you, not a mask."
"Sometimes," says Wade, "I am the mask."
"Well tomorrow," says Betsy, "you're not."
He doesn't answer out loud, but he kisses her fingers and whispers to them that they're sweeter than a bee's knees, so she thinks that he's pleased.
He leaves her at the door and walks down to the end of the aisle by himself. Logan is standing next to Xavier. Nick Fury is nowhere in sight. This is not unexpected. Wade refuses to select a second groomsman just in case, insisting that Nick will show up "in the nick of time," a declaration that had caused about ten minutes of outright giggling from both Wade and Logan, though the latter will deny it to his dying day. A considerably long time, that.
Outside the doors, half of the mansion's inhabitants stand in a little crowd, not sure if they're actually needed for this part of the whole thing, but willing to wait around and find out. Jubilee, Tabby, and Amara are comparing makeup. Piotr chats with Kurt and Bobby while dealing death glares to the photographer, who is snapping shots of Jean fussing over Betsy's hair and is nowhere near Kitty at all. Betsy allows this with grace. Jean is antsy, understandably.
"Rogue will be back by tomorrow," Betsy tells her. Jean sighs.
"I believe that," she says, disbelievingly. "It's just that she left in the first place!"
"Remy is catering the wedding," Betsy muses. Jean throws up her hands.
"So he had to take the maid of honor to Louisiana on the eve of the wedding?" she hollers.
"Remy is a free spirit," Betsy says placidly. Jean opens her mouth to comment, but then Kitty opens the doors and says, "Okay!"
Ray is playing the piano. He's very good at it, which surprised everyone except Logan, who wishes everyone in this house would stop confiding in him.
Jean walks out first, tall and stately in her black business-casual. It's calf-length, nearly skintight. Scott has reappeared just in time to swoon as she walks by him. He's arranging flowers around the chairs.
"Hey, Sparky!" Logan yells.
"What?" she yells back. Ray plays louder.
"Pretend to be Stripes!"
Jubilee marches out, head-to-toe dressed like a cat burglar, except for the bright pink sunglasses perched on her head. Logan chooses not to comment.
"You have to walk slower," Kitty says to her. "Match the music. We're practicing timing, for goodness' sake!"
Jubilee slows to a snail crawl and Ray smashes the piano keys.
"COME ON," he yells. Electricity crackles around his hands.
"No," says Logan.
Jubilee throws a firecracker at Ray's head anyway.
Ray howls and Jubilee screeches as they trade sparks and electric shocks, dodging each other's attacks.
Betsy yells, sticking her head inside the room. "Hey! Cut it out!"
They do not cut it out.
Kitty storms over and shoves Ray against the piano. It skids across the floor and leaves scuff marks on the wood. Xavier closes his eyes and sighs a little bit. Logan is not sympathetic at all.
"This is your own fault," he tells the professor. "You shouldn't expect to have nice things when you have this many kids."
"They aren't my children, Logan," Chuck says implacably. Logan snorts.
"Sure," he says.
"I'm gonna burn that stupid hair right off your scalp!" Jubilee shouts.
"No you're not!" Scott and Jean swoop down, tag-teaming like pros. They hustle Jubilee off to the side while Kitty wrangles Ray.
Logan looks away from the disaster and catches sight of Definitely-Learned-Photography-In-Prison-Rehabilitation gazing in awe at Kitty, who is, Logan admits, proving to be more competent than Logan had expected.
It's not that Logan doesn't think Kitty is capable, it's more that he usually expects her to join in with whatever flailing is going on, just because she enjoys that sort of thing.
Logan narrows his eyes and growls quietly under his breath. Wade gives him a bored look.
"What?" he asks. He's mostly undisturbed by the chaos, which isn't unexpected. There isn't a whole lot in the universe that will disturb Wade Wilson.
"I don't like that photographer," Logan growls.
"You want me to deal with him?" Wade offers. Logan allows himself to briefly consider it, even though he knows that Wade "dealing" with someone usually involves dismemberment. He catches Chuck's disapproving glance and sighs.
"Nah," he says regretfully. "Thanks anyway," he adds, because it doesn't hurt to express gratitude, and Logan is very mannerly, okay.
He thinks Chuck might be laughing at him a little bit, but that's alright. Logan has more important things to deal with.
"Hey, bub!" he snarls, stalking down the aisle. Betsy is sitting in one of the audience chairs, arms crossed over her chest and sighing pointedly. She appears to have given up on regrouping the rehearsal for the moment.
"Bub," Logan says again, because I-Keep-My-Teeth-This-White-To-Cover-Up-My-Dark-Past doesn't seem to realize that Logan is talking to him. He adds a snarl for good measure and the thug finally looks up.
"Hmm?" he says.
Logan has had many responses to his snarling and his claws and his general Loganness, but "Hmm," has never been one of them. It throws him for a moment.
"Stop starin'," he says.
"Oh, I wasn't staring because of the mutations," the photographer says earnestly. "I have a cousin who's a mutant."
Logan gives him his best unimpressed look. Mr. Brightside doesn't seem to notice.
"Stop starin' at Kitty," Logan clarifies, since apparently this moron can't take a hint. The photographer has the gall to pretend to look surprised. Logan isn't interested.
"I'm serious," he growls. "Leave her alone. Don't stare at her. Don't talk to her. If you even think about kidnappin' her and takin' her to Louisiana on a train, I'll make you wear your own guts for garters. And I will know. There're three telepaths in this mansion right now. There are eyes everywhere. Got it, bub?"
My-Muscle-Index-Is-Higher-Than-My-IQ nods vigorously, properly terrified. Logan nods shortly in satisfaction and stomps away. This rehearsal is clearly a lost cause for the moment, so he's going to find a quiet place to call Storm and get her help on figuring out a way to salvage this mess. Why she had to go and volunteer to go to the International Mutant Conference this week anyway was beyond him.
He yanks on the door to the storage closet off the ballroom and definitely does not yelp in surprise when he is instantly buried under an avalanche of flowers.
"KURT!"
A/N: If you want to know what my version of Brian Braddock is like, picture Richard Gansey III from The Raven Boys but with the muscles of Captain America.
Next Chapter: The Wedding