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The air in the Danger Room is thick with tension. Scott’s voice echoes sharply as he scolds Rogue, Bobby, Piotr, and Kitty, his tone harsher than necessary. The young X-Men look at him with a mix of frustration and hurt, but Scott doesn’t seem to notice—or care.
“You call that teamwork?” Scott snaps, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “If you can’t handle this, you’re not ready for the field. You’d be liabilities out there, and liabilities get people killed.”
Ororo steps forward, her voice calm but firm. “Scott, that’s enough. They’re doing their best.”
“They need to do better,” Scott retorts, his eyes blazing behind his visor.
Hank exchanges a look with Kurt, who hesitantly steps in. “Scott, perhaps—”
“Session’s over,” Scott cuts him off, his tone final. He turns away, his jaw clenched, and the young X-Men shuffle out, shoulders slumped. Ororo, Hank, and Kurt exchange worried glances before leaving too, leaving only Logan behind.
Logan leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Hell of a pep talk, Slim.”
Scott glares at him but says nothing, his breathing heavy. He paces the room, clearly agitated.
Logan steps forward, his voice softer. “You’re pushing them too hard.”
“They have to be ready,” Scott snaps, his voice strained. “If they’re not—”
“They’ll make mistakes,” Logan finishes. “And that’s okay. They’re kids, Scott. They’re not soldiers.”
Scott turns to face him, his expression raw. “Mistakes get people killed, Logan. You think I don’t know that?” His voice breaks, and Logan can see the grief bubbling just beneath the surface.
“This isn’t about them,” Logan says quietly. “This is about Jean.”
Scott flinches as if Logan’s words struck him physically. His fists clench at his sides, his voice trembling. “Don’t. Don’t bring her into this.”
“She’s already in it,” Logan says, stepping closer. “You’re tearing yourself apart because you think if you’d been better—faster—you could’ve saved her. But it wasn’t your fault, Scott.”
Scott shakes his head, his jaw tight. “You don’t understand.”
“I do,” Logan says, his voice steady. “I understand losing someone you—”
Before Logan can finish, Scott moves, grabbing him by his uniform, pulling him into a hard, bruising kiss. Logan’s initial shock gives way to something deeper, and he kisses back with equal intensity, their grief and anger pouring into each other.
Scott’s hands fumble with the fastenings of Logan’s uniform, tearing at the leather in his desperation. Their movements frantic and rough. Their bodies collide, their mouths crashing together again, sloppy and desperate.
Scott’s breathing is ragged as he presses Logan against the wall, their hips grinding together. “Logan,” he groans, his voice thick with need and anguish.
Logan growls in response, dragging his nails down Scott’s back, leaving red welts on his skin. Scott shudders at the sensation, his lips finding Logan’s neck, biting and sucking until Logan hisses.
“Fuck, Slim,” Logan murmurs, his hands gripping Scott’s hips as Scott thrusts into him with raw intensity.
Scott’s movements are erratic, and broken. Logan wraps a hand around his own cock, stroking in time with Scott’s thrusts. The room is filled with the sounds of their bodies, their breathing, and the occasional curse.
Logan throws his head back, his voice rough and low. “Goddamn, Scott. Just like that.”
Scott groans at Logan’s words, the sound vibrating against Logan’s skin. He presses his forehead against Logan’s, his breath hot and uneven. “I—Logan—” His words dissolve into a guttural moan as he thrusts harder.
Logan fists himself faster, his own pleasure building. “Fuck, Scott!” he groans, his body trembling as he comes, his release spilling over his hand.
The sound of Logan’s voice pushes Scott over the edge. With one last thrust, he buries himself deep inside Logan, his body shaking as he comes, his head dropping onto Logan’s shoulder.
For a brief moment, they stay like that, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling. But as the haze of pleasure fades, reality crashes back in.
Scott pulls away abruptly, his expression a mix of shame and regret. “This… this was a mistake,” he says, his voice trembling.
Logan watches him, his chest still heaving, but he doesn’t move to stop him. “Scott—”
“I don’t know how… how I could do this to her,” Scott stammers, running a hand through his hair. “To her memory.”
Logan’s jaw tightens, the sting of rejection cutting deep. But he says nothing as Scott grabs his discarded uniform and retreats, leaving Logan alone in the dim light of the Danger Room, his chest aching with more than just exertion.