Log: Wolverine & Cyclops Who: Logan & Scott Summers When: Monday, May 26, 2008 Where: The garage, then the open road What: Scott's under a lot of stress, and the lack of sleep is starting to make him a little crazy. He's on the verge of a nervous breakdown and ends up taking Logan on an almost-deadly drive.
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Logan had a lot of cleaning up to do the next day. Kids tended to leave cups and trash everywhere and Logan had decided it was better to sleep and then get up and manage it. Some of the work had been done by faculty members the night before, but Logan handled the stables, the boathouse, and then he was off to the garage. For his own benefit. Check out the motorcycle, tune her up, give her some tender loving care.
Scott was exhausted. Still. He'd followed Hank's orders ... sort of. He wasn't taking the sleep aid, but he was eating at every meal. When he remembered to.
...Close enough. He had work to do, he needed the hours to do it in. He couldn't afford to sleep.
Logan was the last person Scott wanted to see right now -- especially since he ... made out with Ororo. And be damned if they weren't doing more than that. It was gross. So while he would have loved to completely ignore Logan on his way to stalking toward his car, he paused.
"Sleep well, Logan?" Please. Did Logan think he could get away with messing with Ororo without A Talk from Scott? No.
Logan leaned back, wiping his brow with a rag mostly covered in motor oil. "Slept," he drawled. He offered nothing, Scott! Nothing! He didn't just give out invitations to gossip parties. Please.
"Good." Scott was paranoid, probably thinking more of it than was actually there. "Keep it that way."
Logan went back to work with a grunt----and... fuck it, he couldn't resist. Scott was so damn uptight and bristly. And hey, maybe it would cheer Scott up to know that Logan wasn't also pining after Jean Grey's dead body.
"Didn't sleep much Saturday night, though."
Scott winced. "You know I'll find a way to kill you if you fuck it up, don't you?" Just to throw that out there.
"Fuck what up. There's nothing to fuck up, Scott."
"I'm not blind." Uptight and bristly was definitely a ... nice way to put it. "And I'm not stupid. If you find a way to hurt Ororo, I will take you out." Scott sounded deathly serious, but also like this was part of his job. Tired, obligated, but also genuinely protective. "If she doesn't get you first."
Logan finally turned back to Scott, looking at him with an expression of irritated exhaustion. "We're big kids, Scooter. We moved to the big-kid sandbox a while ago. Don't need you comin' in and tellin' me what to do. Because... I ain't screwin' with your girl anymore."
"Ororo is my girl," Scott snapped. "It's like thinking of you all over my sister." Ororo was one of the only people Scott really had left. Jean was dead, he hadn't spoken to Charles since the big battle. Ororo was the only person he could talk to anymore. "Take this as an obligatory warning. I will not lose Ororo, and definitely not to you."
"You ain't losin' anything." Logan went back to his work. "It's none of your business for once."
"Hell it's not." Scott was ... twitchy. He was stepping out of his boundaries; what Ororo did? It wasn't any of his business. She was a big girl and he could trust her, but the fact that it was Logan made him feel sick. But he seemed to have said what he needed say and went to unlock his car and---
He just couldn't win, could he? The key jammed the first time he tried to open the lock, lodging in stubbornly. In a rare show of anger out in public, Scott smacked the top of the car, tugging at the key with a quiet, "Fuck."
Logan turned again, making a face. "The fuck is your problem?"
"I don't have a problem!" he spat, grunting in aggravation and finally dislodging the key.
Logan got up from the ground and stalked over. "Uh-huh." Not convinced. He wasn't into talking about Scott's problems. He didn't really care much, but... at the same time, hell. Scott was never like this. It set him on edge.
Scott paused, practically throwing open the door, staring at Logan for a moment before:
"Get in the car."
"...Why?"
"You want to know what the fucking problem is, get in the car!" They fought, sure, but Scott had never acted so ... aggressive. He looked half-manic, visibly exhausted, thinner than he should have been. Pale. And angry, even when he was kind of almost offering to give an explanation of some sort.
And Logan? Logan wasn't scared of him, but he was a little freaked out, like a wary dog. He opened up the passenger's side door and got in. All right. Fine, Scott.
Thankfully, even if they crashed and burned, Scott would be the one who'd end up hurt. It was hard to be scared when there was nothing Scott could really do to Logan in a car. Practically dropping into the seat, he slammed his door, starting the ignition without finesse and going a hair too fast when he drove away from the school.
Why Logan, it wasn't clear. Maybe Logan was there, maybe Scott was too tired to keep pushing people away when they asked him what the hell was wrong, and it didn't matter who the final person to ask was. He was silent as he drove away from Westchester, hands in a white-knuckled grip on the wheel and stick shift until they were on a largely deserted road.
And then he gunned it, barely flinching when the speed threw him back a bit, shifting up and stopping before the final gear so the car was practically growling, grinding uncomfortable.
"Hear that?" What he was talking about was obvious; the car wasn't subtle about its issues with being in the wrong gear. "That's my problem."
Logan grit his teeth and grimaced. That was a bad noise. Don't do that, Scott. "You drove me all the way out here for a fucking metaphor?"
"You wanted to know." Scott clearly wasn't in his right mind at the moment. "Don't ask if you don't like the answer."
"I asked," said Logan, leaning back and putting one foot on the dashboard. "I didn't say give me a metaphor. Your problem is gonna be your car if you keep treatin' her like that, asshole."
At first, it didn't seem like he'd do anything. And then he slammed the car into the final gear; the engine quieted, humming contentedly, though they were still going way too fast. "Car's the least of my problems right now."
"Slow the fuck down." Logan never told anyone to slow down. Clearly, he didn't trust Scott in the driver's seat about now. If Scott was looking to drive off a cliff, Logan didn't want to be in the car. He'd live, but he wasn't in the mood for the pain.
"I can't."
"Hit the brake."
"I can't hit the break! That's the point!" He wasn't talking about the car. "If I hit the break, I'll crash."
"SCOTT!" Logan wasn't in the mood for metaphors, and he grabbed Scott's shoulders. Ready to take the wheel. He lifted his foot and prepared to cross onto Scott's side of the car if he had to-----because they were coming onto a sudden, sharp curve, with a guard rail that led down into a ravine. He was dead serious right now. It wasn't about metaphors. "Hit the fucking brake!"
Scott slammed his foot down on the break until it hit the felt floor of the car, jamming the wheel to the side -- just enough to keep them as far from the ravine as possible without tipping them over. Crazy or not, Scott knew how to drive his car, even if the stop was jerky and uncomfortable.
It was like he hadn't realized what he'd almost done to them as the car idled out, battery dying. Scott was breathing hard, his hands on the wheel shaking before he brought one up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.
Logan was holding onto the dashboard, the roof, anything he could hold onto. He looked like a terrified cat. "... You son of a bitch."
Scott didn't reply. Instead, he ran his hands through his hair, resting his forehead on the wheel.
Maybe that was why he'd brought Logan at the last second. Why he'd brought anybody. In case he didn't see a ravine.
Logan slowly started to relax again, pulling his hands back down. "Turn around, bub. We're goin' home." Because Scott? Could not be trusted alone. "Whatever your issue is, it ain't gonna be worked out by drivin' into a ditch, unless dead's the way you wanna go. Sweet you want to take me with you, I'm touched. But you do that again, and I'll kill you."
"God damn it, Logan, shut up for a second." Scott wasn't really relaxing. He needed a little more time. "Give me a minute." He was grateful for his glasses; they kept Logan from seeing how tightly closed his eyes were. He couldn't cry, not the way most people did, but his eyes still burned. This was just pathetic. Wake up, Scott, drive the damn car.
"Get outta the car," Logan muttered.
"I said shut up!" Like Logan's voice was grating.
Logan didn't waste any more time. He got out of his side of the car and went around to the driver's side. The door opened up, Logan reached in and clicked the seat belt. Physically hauled Scott out of the driver's seat and started to take him 'round the car.
"Let go of me!" Scott snapped, pulling away in the middle of being hauled away. "I can drive my own god damn car."
"Shut. Up." Or Logan was going to knock him out. He put Scott in the passenger's seat, forced the seat belt around him. "You can't drive your own car. Too busy with your fucking metaphors."
Metaphors were easier than saying anything out loud. He felt like a child, strapped into his own car, but all he did was glare after that. Maybe he was too tired to fight back. Or he was shaking too much. "Shut up."
Logan gave him a smack upside the head with the back of his head before slamming the door shut. He would be driving the car home, thank you very much.