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By the time Scott got back to his room it was well after dinner and he was tired. Although he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed after taking a warm shower, he knew that someone would be waiting for him.
“How many times have I told you that sitting in the dark like this is bordering on creepy stalker behavior?” he asked as soon as he entered his room, not even glancing in the direction of his expected guest as he closed and locked the door.
“Window’s open,” came the non sequitur of an answer.
Only it wasn’t entirely a non sequitur because Logan had already anticipated Scott’s next comment, which would have gone along the lines of, “There’s no smoking in here,” or “What have I told you about smoking in the bedroom?”
Scott flipped on the light switch and turned around just in time to see Logan prove his point by flicking the ash from his cigar out the open window.
“That also explains why the room’s freezing,” Scott admonished, walking over to where Logan was sitting by the open French bay windows. “We can’t all regulate our body temperature,” he added, shutting the double doors of the bay windows with an audible snap. The windows had only been partially open, but his room was cold. He drew the curtains for some privacy and then slumped into the armchair opposite the other man.
Logan took that as the cue to stub out the rest of his cigar on the palm of his hand while he discreetly eyed his companion. Cyke looked absolutely beat. The stress of the holiday season was clearly catching up with the leader of the X-Men.
“If ya join me over here I can help warm you up,” Logan offered. Although Scott was wearing his ruby quartz glasses and not his visor, Logan knew the other man had shut his eyes. He could tell by the angle Scott had rested his head on the backseat of the armchair.
“If I join you over there,” Scott answered in his crisp diction. “That armchair is liable to collapse under our weight.”
Logan barked out a laugh. “Well, aren’t you prissy tonight?” he goaded cheerfully.
Scott was too tired to take the bait.
“Come on, then,” Logan said, standing up and stretching. (He’d been waiting a while for Cyclops.) He looked at the other man thoughtfully before saying, “Up you get” and hauling Summers out of his seat.
There was the expected protest, but Scott didn’t actually resist as Logan walked him in the direction of the bathroom. Logan was tempted to carry him, but he also knew that unless Cyclops was mortally wounded or incapacitated in some way, he’d never be able to get away with it. So, he settled for turning on the shower and mixing the water to the temperature that Scott preferred and helping him strip. He knew Summers was really tired when the other man didn’t object to Logan taking off his glasses in exchange for the goggles that he wore in the shower. (Scott didn’t let anybody touch his glasses.) Logan left Scott in the bathroom soaking up the warm spray of the shower as he went back out to put on the heater in the bedroom. There had been no point in having the heater on when the French windows were open. Then he pulled down the bed covers, turned on the bedside lamps and shut off the main light. After five minutes, he was back in the bathroom holding Scott’s white terry towel bathrobe. He’d timed it perfectly. Summers had just stepped out of the shower and was toweling himself dry. Logan leaned against the doorframe and appreciated the view. (He had to. Obviously, there wasn’t going to be any sex that night.)
“Here,” he said, handing Scott his robe as Scott swapped his goggles for his glasses again. “Ya gonna make it to the bed?”
“Don’t even think about it,” Scott warned him.
Logan grinned – probably a bit too lasciviously – as he passed by the other man, stripping as he did so. Scott was gathering his clothes from where they’d been dropped on the bathroom. Logan had no doubt that everything would be neatly folded before being placed into the hamper. (Because God forbid that Summers would actually throw clothes into the hamper.) Scott waited as Logan discarded his clothes and then he collected them as well. It was a clear sign of how far they’d come that they did each other’s laundry. Well, Scott mainly did the laundry. He simply didn’t trust Logan with the task. (“I do know ya don’t mix coloreds with the whites,” Logan had told him once in exasperation. “Great,” Scott had replied. “But that’s not really the point.” “Then what is?!” Logan hadn’t received an answer.) By the time Logan stepped into the shower, Scott had left the bathroom with all their clothes.
Unlike Scott, Logan preferred cold showers even during winter. He washed briskly and dried himself just as briskly. He didn’t bother with robes (or towels for that matter) and strode into Scott’s bedroom naked. The heater was doing its job and the room had a nice toasty warmth. He wasn’t surprised to find Scott already in bed wearing his sleep visor, the bedside lamp on his side already turned off making the only source of light in the room the lamp from what had become Logan’s side of the bed. Logan was also willing to bet that Scott was naked underneath the covers (they both liked sleeping naked, a habit of the other man’s that had surprised Logan at first) or if Scott was wearing anything, it would be white boxers. Scott’s robe was draped over the back of a nearby chair, more proof that Summers was completely wiped out. He hadn’t even taken a few seconds to hang the robe.
Logan slipped underneath the covers, switching off his bedside lamp as he did so. He spooned behind the other man as Scott instinctively moved back into his warmth. Logan couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face as he wrapped an arm about Scott’s waist and pulled the other man against him. Naked. It always made sex easier in the morning. Logan would never be an early riser, but it was difficult to complain when you were being woken up by a ‘Good morning’ blowjob.
Scott’s breathing was deep and even, and just when Logan was certain the other man had fallen asleep, a drowsy voice said, “Almost forgot to tell you. Jubilee’s decided on a theme for the Christmas Eve party.”
Logan actually shuddered. It’s not that he dreaded so much what the theme would be (he usually just ignored themed parties and nobody was brave enough to call him out on it, present company excluded), but this Christmas was special. He and Scott had been sneaking around for the better part of the year and they’d finally decided to make their relationship public to the rest of the school and the X-Men during one of the Christmas parties. Why Logan had agreed to such a huge, grand gesture was beyond him but Summers had a way of making him stupid. And no, it just wasn’t the sex.
“Ya gonna share with the rest of the class?” Logan prodded when Scott didn’t continue.
Scott’s sleepy answer was muffled by his pillow.
“What?”
“I said it’s an Ugly Sweater party,” Scott said more loudly.
“An Ugly Sweater party?” Logan repeated skeptically. “Is that even a proper theme?”
“I don’t know, Logan,” Scott answered, snuggling back into his pillow. “She’s your street urchin.”
Logan sighed. That much was true. “Do you have any ugly sweaters?” he asked after a moment.
“No. I give them away to the Salvation Army every year. What about you?”
“Same. Minus the Salvation Army.”
“Guess we’ll just have to buy some ugly sweaters then.” Summers sounded resigned. It would never occur to the leader of the X-Men not to comply with the Christmas theme. “Told the kids we’d take them shopping tomorrow.”
“We’re taking the kids shopping for ugly sweaters?”
“No, we’re taking the kids shopping for whatever they need to buy for Christmas,” Scott corrected. “You and I need to buy ugly sweaters.”
“No shit,” Logan muttered, but his mind was on something else, namely, that he hadn’t yet bought Cyclops a Christmas present.
Fuck, he hated shopping. And he sucked at it. He never had any idea what to give or what was considered an appropriate gift. Relationships were messy and the fact that he now found himself in the most unlikely of relationships was enough to give him a migraine. Worst of all was that he genuinely wanted to get Scott something nice, something meaningful, but he had no clue what that something was. He also got the sense that Summers was a shopping professional. Maybe ‘professional’ was too strong a word, but years and years of being together with Jean had undoubtedly taught him a thing or two. He would probably get Logan the perfect gift – the kind of gift that Logan would never see coming – and inadvertently make him feel like an even bigger douche for his crappy present in return.
Logan inwardly sighed.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
In an effort to minimize the holiday crowds, Scott bundled everyone into one of the school buses for an early start on their shopping trip and the group was spilling into the mall almost as soon as the doors had opened. Aside from Scott and Logan, Storm and Betsy had also been roped into chaperoning duty and each teacher was responsible for six students. Bobby and Marie were part of Logan’s group (as was Jubilee) and on the way to the mall Logan had sat next to Marie and discreetly tried to pick her brain for gift ideas. Marie had asked some questions to get a better idea of who the gift was for and Logan’s evasive answers only served to raise her suspicions. It explained why he was now on his own to fend for himself. Literally. Most of the kids were old enough to go on their own or in small groups – certainly the kids that had been assigned to Logan didn’t need any handholding – while the younger ones stayed with Storm. Everyone had agreed to meet at the food court for a late lunch around 1:30pm.
Logan ended up aimlessly walking around the mall, hoping that his wandering eye would catch an appropriate present for Cyclops. It was a dispiriting plan that was making him more depressed by the minute until a text message from Scott asked him to go to the men’s section of the department store.
Shopping for new uniforms? Logan had texted back.
More like ugly sweaters, had been Scott’s swift reply.
Logan had been so preoccupied with trying to find a gift for Cyclops that he’d completely forgotten about the ugly sweaters.
“Ya gotta be shittin’ me,” he said when he found Scott standing in the center of a display appropriately labeled, ‘Ugly Sweaters’ and surrounded by piles and piles of neatly folded, presumably ugly, sweaters.
“Looks like Jubilee has the right idea,” Scott told him, holding up a sweater for Logan’s inspection.
The sweater was positively hideous. The body of the sweater was green but the long sleeves were a vibrant red, decorated with a smattering of white appliqued snowballs. Across the center of the sweater also inscribed in a white applique were the words, “Ho, ho, ho.” Below the inscription were two white reindeer with red bows tied across their necks, and around the collar of the sweater were white applique Christmas trees. As if that wasn’t gaudy enough, there were little boxed presents and spherical Christmas ornaments hanging from the sweater. The whole thing had the effect of an over-decorated, badly mismatched Christmas tree and it was truly the ugliest sweater Logan had ever seen in his life.
“Too much?” Scott asked at Logan’s silent horror.
Logan managed to find his voice. “No need ta go overboard, Cyke,” he said. “Even the Salvation Army ain’t gonna accept that monstrosity after the holidays.”
Scott actually laughed. “How about this one?” he suggested, holding up another sweater. The second sweater featured a brown brick house and a blue night sky dotted by more white snow, but the centerpiece of this sweater was an upside down Santa Claus, legs sticking in the air as he got caught in the chimney. “Thought it might suit you,” Scott added.
Logan took the sweater from him. “Ya tryin’ to tell me something about my weight?” he ribbed.
“More like the beer,” Scott ribbed back, but he was grinning. “There’s this one too,” he went on, picking up another sweater. This sweater was a deep chocolate brown, also dotted with a snowflake background (what was it with all the snowflakes?). The picture on the sweater was composed of two snowmen, the one on the left holding a hair dryer as his companion on the right turned into a puddle on the floor.
Logan had to hold back a grin. These sweaters were ugly all right, but at least Cyclops had the right sense of humor in mind. He was leaning towards the melted snowman.
“Got one for yourself?” he asked, running his hand over the fine wool of the snowman sweater.
“I was thinking about this,” Scott replied, holding up a maroon crewneck sweater with a neat pattern of white X’s and more snowflakes running in horizontal lines. It was elegant.
“I think ya forgot about the ‘ugly’ part,” Logan informed him, slightly disturbed that he could actually see Scott wearing that sweater on a normal day.
Scott’s second choice was a sweater in fire engine red, but the pattern of alternating white reindeer and Christmas trees printed in a rectangle across its front was still too neat and orderly for Logan’s liking.
“If ya insist on the red,” Logan told him, wondering if Scott was aware that he was gravitating towards the shade. “Try Rudolph.”
He’d spotted another bright red sweater, this time adorned by the face of a cartoon reindeer with a red nose. The bonus? The reindeer’s nose actually lit up.
“It’ll be perfect with your visor,” Logan smirked.
Scott began to laugh. “For a second there,” he said, examining the Rudolph sweater that Logan had passed him, “I actually thought you were going to make us wear matching sweaters.”
Logan was scandalized by the thought.
Xavier’s School for Gifted Children hosted two Christmas parties every year. The first (and official) party was held just before the school shut down for the holiday season. It was traditionally a massive costumed affair that included the benefactors of the school. Logan had chickened out at the idea of making their relationship public then. Scott had given him a soft smile and an understanding squeeze of the arm before going out for entertaining duties, which Logan knew the other man absolutely loathed but couldn’t get out of since he was now the headmaster of the school.
It had been a week since their ‘ugly sweater’ shopping trip and Logan still hadn’t thought of a gift to give his new partner. His personal deadline had become the smaller, more intimate party slated for Christmas Eve that Jubilee had dubbed the ‘Ugly Sweater’ party. At least, he already had an ugly sweater. (He’d chosen the melting snowman.)
The more Logan thought about this maddening gift, the more he kept arriving at the same conclusion. He did know what to get Cyclops, but it was crazy. It was too big, too much, too soon . . . and yet it was also none of those things. It was small and simple. It represented the complexity of how hard they had fought for what they had now. In the end, Logan bought his gift before he chickened out on that too.
Scott waited in his room, sitting down in one of the armchairs by the bay windows, a glass of brandy in his hand. It was far too early for a nightcap but he felt like he needed a bit of liquid courage. He half-expected Logan to back out tonight as well, and sure he’d be disappointed, but it wasn’t going to be the end of the world. As X-Men they’d literally faced (and stopped) the end of the world on several occasions so he had a standard by which to judge the moment. Still, he reflected, one finger tracing the small box on the end table beside him, it would be nice not to sneak around. He didn’t care who knew about them and he’d been surprised to find out that the idea of others knowing about them bothered Logan so much. Maybe it was the idea of commitment. Once everyone knew there would be no taking it back. Scott still thought there was a decent chance that they’d crash and burn, but they’d already lasted a lot longer than he’d originally imagined they would. In fact, it was almost their one-year anniversary to the day. It was this unexpected anniversary that had been on his mind as he’d selected his present for the other man. The gift was simple and elegant. He thought Jean would’ve been proud.
The door opened and Scott instinctively drained what was left of the brandy before he stood up to greet the other man.
“Hey,” he said, turning to face Logan and leaving his gift on the table.
“Hey,” Logan said in reply, and god, he looked nervous.
Scott took pity on him. “We don’t have to say anything tonight,” he said. “It’s fine. What we have works, right?”
“What?” Logan asked, confusion coloring his tone.
Scott tried again. “We don’t have to tell the others if you’re not comfortable with it,” he explained.
“What?” Logan repeated, this time in surprise. “No, that’s not . . .” He agitatedly ran a hand through his hair. “Here,” he said, shoving something into Scott’s hand. “Your gift.”
Scott looked down at the object. It was also a box, smaller even than the present he’d gotten for Logan. He looked back up. “Am I supposed to open this now?” he asked.
“That’s the general idea,” Logan replied, recovering some of his usual snark.
Scott grinned in return and carefully removed the wrapping. (Naturally, he wasn’t the type to just rip it off.) The box underneath the wrapping came from a jewelry store and it was the same size as . . . No, he thought. It couldn’t be. But when he opened it . . .
He took a deep breath and looked up at Logan with a carefully neutral expression, even though his heart was practically in his throat and he was surprised as hell. “It’s beautiful,” he said quietly. And it really was. The simple band was made of white gold.
Logan, on the other hand, looked like he was about to have a panic attack. He seemed to be even more agitated than when he’d first given Scott the box.
“Look, that’s not –” Logan started and then stopped. “I mean, it’s not what it looks like,” he tried again. “That’s not . . . I’m not . . . that’s not an engagement ring,” he managed to get out at last, but even as he said the words he wondered if that’s exactly what the ring was, if his unconscious had simply done all the heavy lifting for him.
Another grin was threatening to break out on Scott’s face and Logan half expected the other man to call him out on his bullshit, but instead Scott reached behind him and handed Logan another box. This one was unwrapped and bigger than the box Scott had received.
“You should open it,” Scott told him.
Logan did so and was greeted with the perfect gift that he knew Summers would have thought of for him. Inside wasn’t a ring, but a thin wristband that also appeared to be made of white gold.
“It’s engraved,” Scott added.
When Logan lifted the band out of its case, he saw the names ‘Cyclops’ and ‘Wolverine’ written on the underside with an ‘X’ in between them. He was speechless, only distantly aware of Scott taking the ring out of its box and putting it on his finger. Since Logan appeared to have lost some of his motor control, Scott also took the wristband from him, pulled up the sleeve of Logan’s sweater and placed the wristband on his arm.
“We’re not engaged,” Scott stated, as the wristband closed on Logan’s arm with a faint snap. “But, y’know, if you wanted to be, in the future,” he added. “I wouldn’t object to that.”
Logan had pretty much recovered from his shock, and all the anxiety he’d felt for weeks had dissolved into a pleasant weight and warmth centered on the band around his arm.
“Are you proposing to me, Cyclops?”
Scott’s smile was tender, the vibrant red of the Rudolph sweater Logan had found for him catching the red flecks of his eyes behind his glasses. “Think of it as an open proposal, Wolverine,” he replied.
Fin.