ilvw reader v1.0
Christmas Wrapping
written by asclepius
Xavier’s Mansion fell quiet as December went on, the 20th of December marking the date that most of the students left for their families, opting to spend time with them. Last night, the 19th, they had their annual Christmas Party. It went off without a hitch. There was a gift exchange. Logan got a flannel. It was from Jack. When he received it, he noticed that the other man didn’t meet his eyes. As there often was between the two, words went unspoken for far too long. Jack had gotten a new computer from Beast, which was met with some skepticism at first but with a little investigation turned out to be alright. The night was filled with mirth and joy, the younger students getting a place to be just themselves in, after all those years of fear. Jack kept them entertained with his robotic arm, newly gained from their visit earlier that year to Breakworld. Logan’s mind still went to that scream that came from him when he tore his arm clean off. The red that came from it. It couldn’t be kept on there for too long, as Hisako pulled him into the festivities, against his protest. Jack laughed with him as the large man was forced to enjoy the time he had, made to indulge in such torturous acts like telling stories and being made to help the kids with their party games. The night rolled on, leading into the dawn when students parents’ either picked them up or the Blackbird made its rounds on dropping the children off.
Snow was falling as powder, coating the world in white again, re-upping the primer placed all throughout the month. Logan had found himself walking outside the mansion grounds, snow crunching softly below his feet. The jeans and flannel (the very same gifted to him) he wore wre not most individuals' usual cold attire. Logan’s breath billows like the smoke from his favored cigar brand. It didn’t mask the world, drawing a difference between the steam and smoke as his nose caught the scent of a familiar man, iron as if there was blood - but he knew there was none.
“You’re a lot better with kids than you let on,” A sweater is pulled over him, slightly oversize, with one sleeve torn off to expose the bulky, awkward metal arm. His usual goggles are on top of his head, and he’s got on cargos with some leather boots. “Usually they’re scared of you.”
“Just didn’t want you to get swamped with 'em’ all night, bub,” Logan softly grins, an improvement in Jack’s green eyes. Logan’s, in turn, searched over the taller man’s body. Rosy cheeks with slightly fogged up metal pieces symmetric over him. “You’re freezin’ out here. Let’s get yer metal ass inside.”
Despite his best efforts, metal wasn’t good at holding in heat. Infact, the metal pieces on him were really bad at it. He was not well insulated, and thus, was shivering from the onset of the cold. “...Please. It’s so cold,” Jack said, holding in a bit of a laugh as the two found their ways back inside the mansion’s warm embrace. The decor of the holidays cast soft light as the sun was already on it’s downturn, solstice tomorrow. The whole mansion was quiet, with very few students remaining. Hisako’s usual antics were removed - gone. There was a fire being tended to by Hank, which Emma and Scott were standing around as well, in the living room. The two men skirted the edge of it, as those three were absorbed into their own conversations. Jack walked to the kitchen, Logan following behind.
“You want some hot chocolate?”
It was so domestic, so pedestrian. It rolled off his tongue like slipping on ice. It was so simple, so fucking normal. So why did it make Logan feel so fuzzy, so soft inside. “Why not?” He grunts out in agreement, trying to bury these feelings.
If Jack noticed, he didn’t care. He went to the cupboard, procured a couple packs of it, and using some attachment on his arm to open the fridge and pull out some milk. Put it in their mugs, letting them heat up in the microwave for a bit. “You alright?”
The question takes him off guard. Anything would be right now. All he can think about is the little things. The curve of Jack’s body, the way his arm looks in the fading light, his messed up hair, that Logan thinks would be the perfect amount of softness against his hands, that he wishes, with all his heart, that one day he would have the chance to touch it. “‘M fine, Sparks.” His eyes sink back into a trademark glare, although he sinks deeper into the gifted flannel.
Jack raises an eyebrow for a second, knowing better than to pry, to just let him sit for a bit. When the microwave went off, he used his armored hand to grab them and stir in the hot chocolate powder. The white milk faded to brown, and Jack slid it across. Without even a wave of his hand, the T.V. turns on to a hockey game. Logan is stupefied for a second, almost shaking. Jack looks around for a second, before his eyes glare at nothing. “Shit. I was gonna watch the game with you, but I need to take care of something. Cerebro bullshit. Start it without me.” Before Logan can even react, or breathe, Jack is gone, with his hot chocolate. He’s left with a whistle coming from the T.V, some grunts as the men playing tried to score or whatever.
He doesn’t really care, because when Jack left, there’s now been a Jack-sized hole in him. For whatever reason, whatever thing that’s going on inside him, he doesn’t know how to deal with it. So he starts to shut down, watching his hockey in silence. He doesn’t know what to do with himself now.
===
The sun fades fast, and the building is plunged into darkness and cold from the wintry fingers of the season, and Jack Alguna finds himself walking through the halls much later than he intended to be done with the fixes to Cerebro. The original schematics have long since been obsolete, he’s been making it up as he does, but it works. Adjusting this power here, soldering in some pieces there. He’s covered in some grease stains. Logan’s long left the couch, and Jack feels like a dick. He groans as he makes his way back to his room, still messy.
He had meant to get to that.
The rest of the room was comprised of his full bed, green covers and mismatched pillows. On the floor were miscellaneous computers, laptops, routers, and servers. His walls were covered in posters, and his CDs and cassettes were unorganized next to the player by his big window. The attached restroom was white, and simple. He had, on the wooden provided desk, a small christmas tree, fake with white lights. It had lots of little ornaments.
He throws some clothes onto the chair and off the bed, stripping down to his boxers as he gets ready to sleep. He really doesn’t care about taking a shower right now. No one’s gonna smell him anytime soon, and he is exhausted. Being stuck under the metal hull of that - thing, takes a lot out of him. He lays there, letting the cold air hit his bare back, breathing.
But not before a knock, urgent as ever, is at his door. It’s Logan - that much he can tell from the camera posted right outside his door.
The man throws on a shirt (sleeve cut off), and opens it. “How can I help?”
Logan has somewhat of an almost pained look on his face. He hasn’t looked like this in a while. Jack best can describe it as turmoiled. He’s breathing a bit heavier than he usually does, and his hand is shaking. Worry fills his own visage now.
“I gotta know somethin’ Jack. Yer nice to me. Why? What’s in it fer you?”
“I-I…uh…I’m confused. What?”
“Answer the question.”
Jack rubs the back of his neck. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have some all knowing explanation. He just knows he cares. “Logan, you’re my friend. First X-Man I ever met. I care about you, I guess. A whole lot. It’s Christmas. I wanna do nice things for you on account of ‘I can.’”
The Canadian grunts. “That’s it? That’s all?”
“Yeah. That’s all. You’re my friend.” Jack swears he sees a tear fall. Wordlessly, he pulls Logan into a hug and into his room (so no one else saw Logan like this) and holds him. Logan’s hand lays on the small of his back, and another finds its way up to Jack’s hair. It stays in the air, tentative for a second before finding its place in the brown tangles. Logan buries his face in Jack’s neck, just keeping it there. Jack holds him in place, keeping him up.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Shaddup, Sparks.”
“Just sayin’.” He laughs against the shorter man. The two stay like that for a moment. Not the first time words have gone unspoken, and it won’t be the last. Logan is warm and inviting to Jack’s cold and frailer body. The two don’t care, they need to take it at their own pace. They know that much. Snow falls slowly outside, cold as ever, as the two men have found home in each other's arms. They held there as the only thing lighting them was the soft, warm glow of the Christmas tree in Jack’s room. It was calm. All through the mansion, not a creature was stirring, not even a toad, as a quiet had fallen over them once again, serene and inviting. The two would wake in the morning, next to each other, in nearly the same clothes. Sometimes, when it got rough, they’d find themselves like that. Nothing would have happened, but there would be an unspoken hold, an unspoken feeling between them.