FIC: Reaction Shot: RR#23: PG-13: Logan
- Sorry 'bout the delay--I'm an aunt! <g> Elise Marie Boss was born
Thursday. She looks--well, remarkably like a newborn. Very cute.
Anyways, personal note aside, onward with the fic!
Title: Reaction Shot
Author: jenn (jenn@...)
Summary: Logan reacts to the S/R hall thing. Set before "As the Mutant
Turns", and after "Rogue Laughter". Pick your place in the timeline. <G>
Author Notes: I'm an aunt! So, dedicated to my new niece Elise, who shall
never, ever, ever read this if I can possibly prevent it.
Archiving: RRindex at Indulgence, Muse's Fool, WRFA, XMMFC
Disclaimer: Not mine. How depressing.
Feedback: With double caffeinated anything, gratefully accepted.
He got the bag packed in one shot, kicking the wet boots to a corner of the
room where with any luck they'd ruin the paint job on the wall.
Not the first time, not the last, more angry than he could remember ever
being, he stripped off his wet shirt and threw it to the polished hardwood
floor. Water stains be damned.
Stupid, stupid, *stupid*.
Talk about jumping and telling her things he'd never told *anyone*, never
even fucking *thought* about, and--and this. Crawling up Summers like she
wanted to climb under his skin, not just his pants.
Well, fuck it. Complex, complex, sticky, bad situation, go with the
instincts, go with his nature, and get the hell out before he got in too
deep and *really* fucked himself up. He didn't need this. Didn't need any
He wondered, through a haze of red that seemed just two steps from being
uncontrollable, what exactly he thought he'd be leaving in.
Whoa. Slow down. Hadn't thought 'bout that. Stripping his jeans, he let
practicality take over, soothing everything back into crystal clarity. He
needed to leave. Therefore, he needed something to leave *in*. He could
walk--except, of course, walking to Canada just seemed like less than
great, and all the money he had was there.
Fuck Sabretooth and God, did he miss his camper right now.
Slowly, he redressed in dry clothes from the closet, and almost choked when
he could smell Rogue soaked into the fabric. She'd brought these in here
herself--her duty, he supposed, feeling that burst of red heat that
threatened to simply shut down upper brain function. Hand out the clothes
to the new people. Don't hurt their pride by telling them the truth. Be
nice to the new guy, and don't tell him you'd sooner settle for the guy who
dumped you for the new hot redhead than ever even consider....
Damn good question. Consider what? Logan tossed his jacket on the bed,
locking his teeth together over the words that wanted to follow.
Shit. He was even talking to himself now.
And *why* was he so fucking angry? Pretty brunette--but that's all she
was. Just a pretty brunette. Attracted, sure he was. She was gorgeous,
she looked good in wet white shirts, and she had a hell of a temper. He
could find that in any bar in any city in any fucking place on the map,
just point and go, dollar a dozen, any one of them would work out just
And he could *touch* them.
Slamming his old boots onto the floor, he turned on the door and took a
long breath. It'd been a long damn time since he let his temper get
control of his reason--too long. He knew better than this. Animals acted
like this. Not people.
Taking another steadying breath, he turned back and paced to the edge of
the bed. He knew for absolute fact that walking out of this room right
this instant was a bad idea. He wasn't thinking clearly, one, and two,
he'd be walking right by Scott and Rogue's--*their* room, and that was a
level of masochism that he could honestly say he'd never aspired to. He
had a sensitive enough sense of smell, and he didn't want to risk losing
what remained of his logic.
There had to be an explanation for this. Taking another long breath, Logan
sat down on the edge of the bed and thought it through. He'd wanted to
leave for awhile. He stayed, maybe, to get a chance at the untouchable
girl, and because he had nothing better to do. Okay, fair enough. That
worked. She wasn't interested. So he'd leave. It didn't mean anything.
He was pissed because she wasn't what she seemed. He'd never thought of
her as the type to play one man off another, but she had, and she'd done it
expertly, and she had her reward. She got what she wanted. Well, fucking
good for her. Had to admire her skill.
And she didn't mean anything to him. So she was less than he thought she
was. She wasn't as honest, as clear--she'd fooled him. That's what pissed
him off. He'd been played and he hated that he'd misjudged her.
Well, okay, so that definitely made the anger logical. Definitely.
Having neatly categorized it in his mind, Logan figured it would be
relatively safe to get the hell out of here and forget this place ever
Picking up his boots, he walked back to the bed and slid them on, wishing
they fit as well--no, didn't matter. Didn't need Rogue-chosen boots.
Shit, he'd leave the clothes, except until he got back to Canada, he had
nothing in funds. Standing up, he looked around the quiet room, taking
another calming breath, before hooking the bag over his shoulder.
Tossing the bag back on the bed, Logan paced to the window. He didn't like
this--this utterly out of the blue behavior. This had to stop. If he
left, it sure as hell wouldn't be because of her. It was because it was
time to go, not because a little brunette bitch had screwed him over. No.
Not because of that. His pride just couldn't take that. She wasn't that
fucking important, damn it.
If he left right now, she'd sure as hell think it was because of her. And
that was something he couldn't stomach. Period and end. No one--no
woman--made him walk. That was the fucking line he drew right there. No
one had ever had that kind of power over him before and he'd be six feet
under and fucking *dismembered* before he'd let it happen now.
So there it was.
Logan looked at the bag.
Shit, that meant he had to unpack again.
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