This song’s been stuck in my head all morning, and so I foist upon Tumblr this ridiculous little song-fic I’ve just finished. HalBarry, inspired by Rude by Magic.
Hal Jordan was many things, and called many things, but nervous wasn’t usually one of them. This bright Saturday morning, however, his stomach was churning more than it had the first time he went up in a jet. The small red velvet box in his bomber jacket pocket felt heavy each time it bounced against his hip, reminding him with every step that he was more than likely facing invariable rejection. He swallowed the threat of his returning breakfast and took the well worn fifteen steps from his parked car to the old front door.
So my mouse has decided to up and stop working on me. I’ve checked the damn thing over, made sure there weren’t any kitty teeth marks in the cord, it’s just dead. Until I can pick up a new one, no updates…it’s sort of difficult typing drabbles on my phone. Should have a new mouse by this weekend, at the latest.
enough about sex positions has anyone discovered a reading position which doesn’t get uncomfortable after 5 minutes
This was supposed to be fluffier, I don’t know how it turned into this sad mess. Written for ScottxLogan, who was feeling kind of down.
It was only one infinite second before impact when Logan realized what was happening. He’d become so accustomed to Sabertooth going straight for him in a fight that he’d never once considered the possibility that any of his teammates would be in any danger if they so happened to be too close. Victor must have picked up a new bag of tricks sometime between their last scuffle and now because instead of swiping out at Wolverine, he’d turned his attention to Cyclops.
The Professor had picked up on Victor’s presence a few hundred miles west of the school, far too close for Logan’s comfort. Logan could only think of a few reasons as to why Creed would be so close, but the most likely was that the other mutant had gone back on the hunt for the Wolverine. Leaving the giant brute to wander that near smacked of impending danger and Logan refused to let the issue be handed off to another team member. He’d wanted to take his rival on alone and Scott rejected the hasty plan. Only after he promised to be nothing more than back up if needed was he permitted to accompany Logan on the mission.
After years of the same song and dance, Logan hadn’t expected Victor to deviate from the norm. It should have just been the two of them duking it out but Victor just had to catch the scent of Scott hanging back in the distance. Logan’s scent faintly mingled with that of his lover’s was more than likely the cause behind the blond mutant’s alteration of the routine. In hindsight, the good luck kiss before engaging Sabertooth may not have been such a good idea.
The sight of bright red blooming from beneath Scott’s prone form inflamed the beast inside of Logan. Victor had barely enough time to turn when adamantium claws sheathed themselves in skull and brain matter. The giant fell to his knees, his eyes rolled back to stare death white against prickly grass and dirt.
Logan scarcely registered his own voice shouting for assistance over his communicator, repeating over and over that Cyclops was down. He held Scott in his arms, taking what scraps of comfort feeling his partner’s shallow breathing offered him. It felt like days before he heard the jet land nearby.
While en route to the school, and subsequently the underground infirmary, Logan replayed the attack in his mind. Scott had been out of sight, far enough away to have been little interest to Victor. Logan should have been the main focus of Sabertooth’s attacks, the very idea that Victor would choose to go after anyone but him during their brawl had never entered his mind as even a remote possibility. In the future he would be more insistent on taking the hulking beast on his own.
He knew he wouldn’t be permitted entry into the surgery, he was both filthy and on edge, but that didn’t stop Logan from hating protocol. The wait was torture, he found he desperately needed to know the severity of Scott’s condition. Every silent minute that passed was a hellish eternity on Logan’s nerves. When Hank finally appeared to deliver the news his face was grim, his blue furry ears pinned back.
"Cranial trauma," He sighed. He took a deep breath and offered Logan a sympathetic smile. "From what I’ve been able to work out, he’s suffered a rather severe blow to his temporal lobe. Thankfully the injury wasn’t fatal but I have to be straight with you, Logan. There’s a high risk of retrograde memory loss. We won’t know for sure, or how bad it is, until he wakes up."
Hank’s words were like a shock of cold water dousing Logan’s fiery temper. Memory loss, something Logan was all too familiar with. How much would Scott remember, how much would he know when he opened his eyes? Would he remember them?
"You can see him," Hank said quietly. Logan nodded and side stepped Dr. McCoy to make his way back towards the observation rooms. Seeing Scott laid out on one of the beds in the sterile room hurt. The brunet’s head and eyes were wrapped in gauze, a slight kiss of pink tinted the bandages on one side.
Picking up a stool from under one of the metal desks against a far wall, Logan settled in next to Scott’s bed. He reached out one hand to cover his lover’s, grateful to feel some warmth in the flesh.
"Don’t worry, Slim," Logan’s voice was low and gentle. "I’ll be here when you wake up."