Scott hesitates as he wanders into the lounge to find Logan sprawled on the couch, deep in thought. Lingering in the doorway, he is tempted to turn away as if he was never there. He knows that look on Logan’s face; he knows that it never means anything good. Sometimes a man needs to be alone with thoughts like that; dark, lonely thoughts.
“Are you coming in or not?” Logan asks without looking towards him, his voice a growling rumble.
Scott still pauses. “You look like you want to be alone.”
Turning his face from the window, Logan shoot him the kind of withering look that could reduce other men to tears. “Get in here, one-eye,” he insists.
Scott walks into the room, closing the door behind him. When he reaches the couch, Logan shuffles over onto his side. The sofa hadn’t been designed with two grown men in mind, but they manage to make enough space - he lies down beside Logan, their bodies neatly aligned. Logan’s mouth nestles against the nape of his neck, where every breath tickles against his skin.
Logan’s arm moves around his torso and he yanks Scott roughly back against his chest. Scott holds back a smirk, thinking that Logan is just about the only person he knows that could do rough cuddling. He finds Logan’s hand and holds onto it, surprised that Logan will even allow him to do so. “Is everything alright?” he asks.
“Had a bad day,” Logan tells him. “Shut up for a while, okay?”
Scott could argue with him, but instead he holds his tongue and allows Logan to hold onto him for as long as he needs to, the pair of them lying side by side for several short hours. By the following day, they are back to bickering at all times - but Logan knows, he must know, that Scott’s always going to be there on those bad days when he really needs him.