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Logan woke up in a bed that wasn’t his own, but it smelled so familiar. He could almost feel the warmth of someone else by his side, someone he was sure had been right there just a minute ago, but now was gone.
It took a while to remember what happened that landed him there, mostly because he was too busy breathing shallow, trying to figure out why the scent on the sheets made him long for something impossible, something always just out of reach.
When he gave up chasing shadows in his own mind, the previous night dawned on him pretty easily.
Got back late, had some beers while no one was around to radiate disapproval his way, hoping it would help his splitting headache. Summers showed up to scold him about drinking all his beer, which honestly, annoying him was the one good result of drinking it. And then—nothing. With the splashes of new impossible memories, jagged pieces of a life that never happened, he could guess some of what happened. Got hit with a new echo, his brain shut down in self-defense.
The same as always. One of these days he’d get back all the things that never happened to him, and be done with this, but it had been years so who knows when that would be.
Professor had tried explaining why they kept coming back like that, in increments and not all at once, and why it was supposedly a good thing. Means there was nothing tying them to a specific point in this timeline, and everyone who knew about his condition was hoping it meant they fixed the world so it never gets so fucked up that they need to send him through time again.
Logan half agreed and half expected it to mean he’ll just be dead before it gets so bad this time around. Despite the annoying habit of commenting on things he sees inside people’s heads, Chuck had never commented on that one. Logan took it to mean his idea is just as likely as their overly optimistic hopes.
Whatever the reason, he’s had years of this, so Logan should really have known better when his head started feeling like it was about to explode.
But apparently it didn’t go so badly this time. The bed was much nicer than the cots down in medical, so Logan appreciated being put to sleep instead of getting dragged down for tests that would tell no one anything new again. He got up slowly, testing the headache, but it was mercifully gone.
Walking through the hallways felt surreal, though. He kept catching himself on the thought that there were too many kids there. Too many people he was surprised to see, even though he’d known them to live there for years. Sometimes—usually—Logan really hated the extra memories. So he went down to the garage, got Summers’ fancy bike that he suddenly knew would be amazing to take out for a ride, and went to get some beers from as far as he could get in an hour. It turned out to be pretty damn far.
He’d been expecting it, but seeing Summers there, waiting for him when Logan took the bike back made him smile. Summers started to talk before Logan even powered the bike down.
“Despite what you might think, not everything you find on the grounds is free to—”
Logan waited for Summers to really pick up the steam of his tirade, before interrupting him by pushing a six-pack into his chest, making him catch it or let it fall. “Got you your beer.” It was a different brand than the one he’d gotten from Scott’s not that secret stash last night, and not by accident.
“You—” Scott caught the pack and put it down on the hood of a car. “This in no way makes up for you stealing my bike!”
Logan could taste the word ‘borrowed’ on the tip of his tongue. It’s what he should have said, the perfect and perfectly aggravating response. But close up, seeing Scott, feeling his warmth lingering where Logan’s hand had brushed against his chest while passing over the beer—it all made him freeze up. With the sudden looping thought of ‘he’s alive’, yes, and he wasn’t even surprised by it, not any more.
The world sucked a-fucking-lot the first time around, apparently, despite so many things being almost exactly the same. He could kind of see why in some other future he’d let them mess with his head for a chance to fix things.
But Logan was also struck with a sudden sense memory of Scott’s arms around him, catching him before he fell and dragging him through the hallways and into a bed. For some reason he’d expected someone else to have taken him to his room, even though Scott was the one person around when Logan passed out. And now that he could remember that, he was half convinced the impression of someone at his side early in the morning was also true.
And also Scott.
The confused frown on Scott’s face made it clear Logan missing his cue for a come-back, his chance to be a dick to Scott was very unusual. Fair. Winding Scott up to greater heights of quietly—or not so quietly—seething was always on his list of things to do.
“You took me to my room last night,” he said. Just a statement of fact, because Logan was sure actually thanking him might crash Scott’s brain, and break all the rules of the mutual antagonism thing they had going on.
“And what, this is you making sure I know no good deed goes unpunished?”
It wasn’t meant to be, not really; Logan just wanted to get away for a while, but he wasn’t above hitting two birds with one stone. His smirk was an answer enough for Scott. Scott’s answering frown was predictable.
But the subtle way his posture shifted forward, ready for a fight, finally made them both notice how close they were standing.
For a long still moment it felt like standing on a precipice over something. And then they both moved, maybe at the same time or maybe not, and Logan felt that warmth so much closer. Their lips pressed together in a rushed kiss that felt inexplicably familiar. For a few seconds it felt so very right, the press of bodies, the slide of lips and the intoxicating scent Logan wanted to stay wrapped up in forever.
Then Scott pushed at his chest, broke the kiss and stumbled half a step back. He looked like he would have run right to the other side of the mansion if the car at his back hadn’t stopped him.
They were both breathing far too heavily for just a few seconds of making out.
“It was a mistake,” Scott said, not nearly firmly enough, but Logan could see it in his face that he was determined to stick with it. Determined to pretend nothing had happened, and Logan didn’t think he could do the same.
Not yet willing to admit all that animosity had been a prelude to this, the entire time. But he could now realize there had been something there, something that made him want to ruffle Scott’s feathers from the moment he first saw him.
“Which time?” Logan asked, surprising himself almost as much as Scott, and, oh, of course. The scent on the sheets. So familiar, but Logan knew it. Not as a pale, fleeting echo of something in a different life, but a real memory.
Scott paled dramatically, losing all color and looking like he’d been slapped, reeling from the sudden shock of it.
“You remember.”
“So it did happen. Why’d we stop?” Logan asked, curious, because he couldn’t think of a single reason to be further than half a step away from Scott right this moment. Maybe he should have been angry at missing whatever history they apparently had, but he was far too used to knowing less about himself than so many people around him. This was just one more thing. But for once he wanted it, wanted to know more and never let this go.
“There was nothing to stop,” Scott spat out, distaste masking whatever else he was feeling about the whole thing, and not for the first time Logan wished he could see his eyes. “We fucked, you were gone in the morning. And the next time we met you pretended not to know me. The end.” Oh, Scott was upset alright. Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard him get crude.
“I didn’t pretend. You know my memory is like Swiss cheese.” Despite Chuck doing his best impression of trying to fix it. Though to be fair, Logan understood why he didn’t; the headaches he got from ghostly memories coming back naturally probably had nothing on what it would feel like to have it all shoved back into place by force.
He got closer, crossed that half a step again. Scott looked defiant and underneath that, desperate, so Logan forwent asking why he never told him, no matter how much he wished he had known. He could guess. Waking up alone—that must have felt some kind of way, must have been more than just a meaningless one night stand, with how much of a dick Scott had been to him ever since Logan looked him in the face and didn’t know him from Adam.
Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. But God, Logan hoped he wasn’t wrong.
Because he wanted to push Scott down into that bed he woke up in, into the sheets that smell like him and Logan both, and make absolutely sure waking up next to him wasn’t just a dream.
Slower this time, Logan leaned into a kiss. Once again, Scott kissed back, like he couldn’t stop himself. He muttered “this is a mistake” again, but Logan didn’t take it personally. He had all the time in the world to convince him otherwise.