Warning: The usual. Boy love. Bad writing. Out of characterness.

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing!

Summary: Emmyzi's idea! Drunken Scott accidentally hurts Logan with those laser eye things of his. Hope you like it.

Also - I am so sorry if I've been clogging up your inboxes with updates for this stupid chapter - I've been having some real trouble uploading it for some reason! Aw well, lets hope this time does it. Enjoy x

"... And that's the last time I'm taking you out to anywhere. Ever." I mumbled grumpily as I lugged my inebriated lover through the front door.

"Okay," Scott said agreeably, "I don't mind, that just means I get to stay here with you," He laughed.

"I like the way you're thinking, Slim," I muttered, scanning the entrance hall for any late night stragglers. Phew, it was just us.

Scott's a great drunk: very funny, painfully honest, his inbuilt filtering system seems to take a hike every time he has more than three beers (hence the funny), and he doesn't throw up that much.

But even still, I didn't want gossip hungry lecherous students ogling him and seeing their (adorably) intoxicated maths professor stumbling all over the place like this.

We'd gone out to a bar, to have a quiet drink with each other. What I didn't know when we pulled up to the bar was that it was Singles Night at this particular place. I could barely get a word in edge ways what with all the people coming up and trying to hit on him, and everyone kept buying him drinks, and I got more and more annoyed as more and more people tried to have it on with Scott.

I viewed my main achievement of the evening as keeping my claws in, and not maiming anyone.

God, I deserve a medal or something.

So yeah, that's why I was half carrying Scott, normally the most sensible, organised Boy Scout type guy in the entire universe, upstairs. My arm was firmly wrapped around his slight but strong waist, his arm slung over my shoulder. It didn't help that I was more than a little drunk myself, and more than slightly pissed off with the world.

I mean, it wasn't Scott's fault he was so goddamn attractive – It's all down to the creepy assholes in that godforsaken bar.

"Logan?" Scott mumbled against the crook of my neck (okay, so not helping the Getting Scott Upstairs Process, when he's being all flushed and spacey and sexy and all).

"Yeah?"

"I'm tired."

I chuckled, "I know, you moron, that's why I'm getting you to bed," I said affectionately. I was taking my time, though – we were making our way down the corridor that lead to the dorms, after having conquered the stairs (another major achievement in my eyes).

"I'm not a moron," Scott sounded more like a petulant five year old than a twenty five year old adult, "You're a moron."

"Is that so?" I laughed.

"Yup. Completely moronic."

I laughed again, completely convinced that this was in fact the funniest thing that anyone ever has ever said ever on the planet. Ever. I was just about to attempt to put this into (slightly slurred) words (along with possibly filtering out some of those 'ever's) but I kept my mouth shut tight when I saw we had an audience.

Crap.

We'd been so quiet, as well.

Oh well. It was only Jean.

Even if she was looking furious right now.

You ever noticed how Jean only ever gets mad at me? Not Scott. Always me. Of course, if she were to have a go at Scott and yell at him, she probably wouldn't live to see the next day. But seriously, I just don't understand why she's so angry all the time, especially when I'm involved. I mean, I'm civil, I make conversation, I've given up smoking in the mansion completely, I hardly ever threaten the students anymore, and I held the door open for her that one time... "I'm practically your knight in shining armour!" I blurted out.

Oops, didn't mean to vocalise that.

"Her what?" Scott looked up at me, now leaning away slightly and standing on his own two feet (I felt all soppy when I realised I felt cold without him leaning on me, and I felt a strong urge to close the distance between us once more – blame the booze).

"Nothing."

"Moron," Scott sniggered, and I couldn't help but laugh as he did so.

There was something contagious about his laughter. Always had been – okay, focus Logan, now's so not the time to get all sentimental and crap.

"What are you doing up this late, anyway?" I asked Jean, trying not to slur my words, who was now standing in the middle of the hall, arms crossed and still glaring.

"I was woken up," She said with weighted words.

"What's going on?" Another sleepy voice sounded, and a door cracked open to reveal Bobby, and his roommate.

Well, so much for getting to bed without any hiccups.

"Oh my God," Bobby was laughing now, "Are you guys drunk?"

I noticed Scott try to stand up a bit straighter, and attempt to steady himself on his feet. I couldn't contain a snigger – he really was adorable. This, of course, made Scott laugh too.

"Okay, time for bed," I cut in, grabbing Scott's hand and pulling him along the corridor.

"Sweet dreams, sir," I heard another student who'd stuck their head out of their doors, call out. I resisted the urge to growl.

"And same to you!" Scott shouted back cheerily.

"Expect a long lecture on how knowing your limits and curfews tomorrow morning, Logan!" Jean's voice rang out like a grating siren on my brain. So much for the knight in shining armour theory being a mutual revelation.

"That should be fun," I grumbled, slowing down our pace now it was just the two of us again: Just the way I liked things.

"Logan... I can't remember where our room is," I heard Scott mumble.

"I couldn't care less," I grinned my lopsided grin, and pushed Scott up against a wall – not my most graceful moment, a little clumsy – but I'd got Scott where I wanted him: in my arms and right in front of me.

Scott then did this super cute little thing with those gorgeous lips – they formed a slight pout, something I found hilarious, sexy and adorable all at the same time, "I could – I miss our bed... – Why are you laughing?" Scott frowned at me, "What's so funny?"

I felt his breath on my lips, and the world suddenly went very silent. All I could hear was Scott's breathing.

"You," I growled, "You're so fucking cute." And with that, I captured those lips in a sloppy kiss.

After a few minutes, we broke apart.

"I can't believe you just said the word 'cute'," Scott grinned at me, our faces still just inches apart.

"Well excuse me," I laughed, pulling back, all mock-offended, and beginning to walk away, "Just trying to compliment my loved ones."

Scott suddenly grabbed my arm, and then I was the one pressed up against the wall, "I love that I'm one of your loved ones." Scott mumbled, then leant back slightly, having confused himself, "Wait... You know what I mean."

I answered by planting another kiss on those lips.

We managed to find our room, eventually – and Scott wasted no time in pushing me onto the bed, somehow without breaking our kiss, his hands already fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. As soon as I was free of my cotton prison (aka shirt) I rolled us over, so I was on top. I felt Scott's hands slide over my body, caressing what felt like every muscle – and what ever tension was left in my body seemed to just evaporate.

I fucking love how he does that. It's like magic or something.

I ducked my head, so I could lay sloppy kisses along the base of Scott's neck, electing a soft but definite moan from the beautiful creature beneath me. His nimble fingers fumbled with the button of my jeans (which were becoming more than a little uncomfortable, if you know what I mean). I leant in for another kiss.

Scott has always been a great kisser.

I broke away, leaning back and pulling Scott with me so we were now upright on the bed – so I could now lift the hem of Scott's jumper over his head. Scott raised his arms – a little haphazardly: He was still super drunk, I noted with a chuckle.

"Did I ever tell you how-" I started, but was cut off by Scott's sharp tone.

"Fuck, Logan – my glasses!"

Now, I was silenced partly because I Scott didn't usually swear at me (well, he did, but in a jokey way), never seriously. And partly because my alcohol soaked and sluggish brain didn't quite piece together what Scott was trying to warn me against, and I continued to tug the jumper over Scott's head.

And then I saw a blinding pink light.

"Logan?"

I pressed my eyelids shut, tight as they would go. Shit. Fuck.

After so many years of control, and never so much as opening my eyes without the protection of my ruby glasses or goggles for even a second – I'd screwed up. Really screwed up.

And the worst thing was, as I listened to the sound of my laboured breathing, I couldn't even see if Logan was okay, opening my eyes would mean letting out another blast. I was scrabbling around on the bed, trying to feel with my hands, trying to find the glasses.

"Logan?" I cried out, my voice breaking slightly as I did so. "Logan, please answer me." It felt like someone else was speaking – my voice sounded alien and remote, much stronger than I felt.

I willed him to come back at me with some stupid remark, but I couldn't hear anything. Just the sickening sound of my heartbeat in my ears.

In the back of my drunken mind, I tried to reassure myself that Logan healed, that I wasn't going to lose him – that (Oh god) I hadn't killed him. But none of these things seemed to help. Logan had never been blasted with my damn eyes before – we knew that his body could heal his bruises, stab and gun wounds, but this was different. Even if by some miracle he was alright, I'd still hurt him.

I've never loved anything or anyone as much as I love Logan, and I hurt him. Oh God.

I crawled around on the floor, searching for where his body must have been thrown against the far wall.

After what seemed like hours (when in fact it had only been seconds, the forever rational part of my brain told me – great help that was) of frantically searching in the bleak darkness of sightlessness, my fingers closed around Logan's calloused hand.

Well, that hurt.

I opened my eyes slowly as I felt a hand wrap around my own. "Scott?" There was something funny going on with my vision – it was swimming back into focus though. I could feel the gears and cogs of my body push me back into health, repairing the damage. I'd be fine in a minute.

"Oh God," I heard Scott's voice. He sounded scared. Relieved, but scared.

I opened my mouth to ask what the matter was, but then my brain clicked what had just happened. The blast of energy had hit me right in the middle of my chest, throwing me across the room, and into the opposite wall, where I'd destroyed a picture frame. Whoops. I now lay slumped on the floor, with Scott right next to me, gripping my hand.

It took me a minute to notice he wasn't wearing his glasses. His eyes were pressed shut, his forehead furrowed in a tortured frown. I'd never seen him without the ruby barrier hiding some part of his face, not properly.

"You're beautiful, y'know," I found myself saying.

I watched Scott immediately relax on hearing my voice, "You're drunk." Those lips of his almost found a smile.

"Well so are you," I pointed out childishly.

"Logan, I'm so glad you're okay. I am so sorry, I didn't mean to, I would never-"

"I know. It's okay. I'm fine."

There was a short pause.

"So are you going to help me find my glasses, or just leave me blind forever?"

I smirked, "Hmm, tough one."

I hope it was okay – I'm not 100% happy with it, but I so enjoyed writing it. Why are Logan and Scott such an adorable pairing?

Thank you guys so much for your reviews! Seriously, they make my day. And I'm loving the ideas, I can't wait to write them! I think the next one on the list is djaly's idea, where Scott has to deal with the Wolverine : )

If you do fancy leaving a request, I'd be more than happy to write it (although it might take me a while, I apologise – the only time I seem to write fanficiton is when I can't sleep!).

In other news... Did you guys catch X Men First Class at the cinema yet? I thought it was totally awesome, and I am now completely head over heels in love with Magneto. Or maybe it was just Michael Fassbender being gorgeous – one of the two.

Take care x