SCOGAN, Part 1: A Headache Waiting To Happen

We're down to the 11th hour on Y!Gallery, and still no word from our friendly neighborhood staff at the time of this writing. In the event the unfortunate does happen and the place closes, I'm posting up what might possibly be two of the longest single stories I've ever written.

First comes my five-part Scogan story, which started with "A Headache Waiting To Happen." This fic took me 11 months to write...admittedly, most of that was spent procrastinating, but my good friend TheMadSlasher was always happy to keep me on task and make sure I didn't abandon the project. (Thank you!!!)

The first two chapters are character-building, and the last three are smut. Enjoy!

~*~

"OK, people, clear out. The man needs his rest."

The X-Men trooped out of the infirmary, one by one, leaving Cyclops alone with a bedridden, but oddly peaceful Wolverine. The smaller man stared after his companions with an unreadable expression, and Scott figured it out almost instantly. The Cerebro files had told him everything Xavier knew...about labs, immersion tanks, isolation, the whole shebang.

The Professor would say he's figuring out what it means to have friends...he'd say he's learning to be part of the team.

A team he endangered through his reckless, careless behavior. Again.

Part of Scott just wanted to file out with the rest of the team, let Logan heal and just not worry about the whole thing. But the Leader wouldn't let him. The Leader stood there, glaring coldly at Logan through his visor.

"All better now?" Cyclops asked, his voice harsh and uncompromising.

Logan's eyes met his own, going from brown to blue with frosty resentment and defiance. "Yup. Hank says a couple days an' I'll be good ta go."

"Not surprising," Scott said, ticking off points on his fingers. "Healing factor, unbreakable bones, years of field experience, stupidly good luck...wish the whole team had that."

He looked the Canadian squarely in the eye when he said this last. Logan leaned back, face set in stone. "Ya tryin' t'say somethin', One-Eye?"

"A lot of people risked their lives to save you today, Logan. Good people. Irreplaceable people. The X-Men aren't the military...we can't just hold a recruitment drive when we lose someone. And we can't spare the manpower to rush off to the Yukon or the Rockies every time you come up against something you can't handle."

Logan sat bolt upright, then clutched his side in a sudden flash of pain. "I never asked fer help from you guys. I never wanted it. It was my mission, my bad guy, my demons t'face. Me alone."

"You 'alone' would have gotten yourself killed!" Scott snapped. "As long as you're on this team, you have a duty to the rest of us..."

"FUCK you, asshole!" Logan got all the way out of bed now, wincing slightly. He stormed out the door, shouldering Scott roughly aside as he passed him. Only when he was out in the hall did he turn to face Cyclops again, eyes smoldering with raw, hot fury. "I never asked fer yer fuckin' help, an' I ain't got no 'duty' t'NOBODY!"

Then he was down the hall and in the elevator, going down. Scott started after him in disbelief and rage, clenching his fists as he tried to calm down.

He doesn't get it. He doesn't want to. All he hears out of my mouth is, 'I'm the boss, deal with it.' It doesn't even occur to him to think there might be reasons behind the orders I give...all he sees are chances to say 'fuck you' to any and all authority.

Scott felt himself torn two ways about that. Cyclops was infuriated...he needed Logan's cooperation for the team to cohere the way it had to to get things done. But still, there was a part of him...just a small part...

Fuck me, am I actually jealous of that?!

Letting out a grunt of exasperation, Cyclops stormed to his room. He needed a shower, a change of uniform, and a Danger Room workout. And something else, that he didn't want to think about right now...

~An Hour Later~

Washed and changed, his new costume looking like it had come straight out of the dry cleaners, Cyclops marched to the Danger Room with the intent of running a full-range exercise in fine control in combat situations...

...Only to find the door sealed in front of him, with the words SESSION IN PROGRESS flashing by in marquee.

Who the hell? I scheduled this time slot for my session in advance!

...Wait. Scratch that. I know exactly who.

Heading up to the next floor, Scott unlocked the door to the control room, where he saw exactly what he was expecting.

Logan was there, in full costume and mask, his face grim and snarling as he shredded drone after holographic drone. Some bore faces he recognized...Magneto, Sabretooth, himself....others were complete enigmas, phantoms of Wolverine's past that he'd neglected to mention.

Scott was about to buzz him on the intercom, cuss him out for the second time in as many hours for not considering his teammates...but then he saw something that stopped him cold.

All his other enemies lay in heaps of circuitry, fading out as the Room disassembled them at the molecular level, to recycle the raw materials for future sessions...and Logan was left with only one enemy. A slavering, hunched figure, dressed identical to himself, but more ragged, his clothing tattered and shredded, his face set in a permanent rictus of a snarl.

Scott knew exactly what the enemy was. It was the Wolverine...the worst traits of Logan's primal self, all of his animalistic rage and snarling savagery rolled up into a single nightmarish package. Bone claws erupted from between its knuckles in fountains of blood, and it lunged at Logan with a roar that chilled Scott's blood.

There was no humanity in the creature at all. Logan, by contrast, was calm and poised, his face set in a dark and brooding scowl. It was clear that he wanted to let loose...to leap and meet the charge all teeth and claws and fury...but he didn't. He waited.

And when the Wolverine had nearly reached him, he calmly, smoothly, gripped it by the wrists and somersaulted backwards, giving it a kick to the midsection that sent it flying across the room. The Wolverine slammed into the wall of the Danger Room, then shook its head, got back to its feet, and charged at Logan again.

And again.

And a fourth time.

Scott watched this display with ever-increasing unease. It doesn't quit, doesn't let up. I don't think it knows how to. But Logan...my God...

Logan stood exactly where he had been. His costume was shredded, his mask gone. Cuts and bruises and scrapes were appearing and disappearing all over his body, but he wasn't moving. Every charge the Wolverine made, he took. Every single time, the animal ended up on the far side of the wall from him. He never flinched, never backed down, and never went after it. Scott was also surprised to notice that the more skin was exposed by the Wolverine's claws, the more eerily calm Logan got, like stripping away the uniform somehow took more of the animal out of him.

Scott didn't get it, but then there was a lot about Logan that he didn't get. And now, it seemed, there was a lot more about the other man he wished he'd gotten sooner.

As he watched the man withstand the assault of the animal time and again, Scott realized what he was seeing at last. This was Logan's life struggle encapsulated in a single battle. Standing up for himself, being true to who he was...him, not the Wolverine...and fighting for every ounce of self-sovereignty he could get.

That's why he's such a pain in the ass. He's been jerked around, controlled, memory-wiped...to the point that he's paranoid about any loss of control. Me, Weapon X, the Wolverine...it's all the same to him. And he doesn't stop fighting that, ever.

Part of him...the 'Cyclops' part...wasn't impressed. Logan needed to learn when an order was given for the good of the team and when not to take unnecessary risks. But Scott calmly told that part of him to shut the fuck up.

If he were honest with himself...brutally, painfully honest...he was jealous. Jealous, and admiring, and completely in awe. The independence, the inner strength, the total sense of self Logan displayed. More and more of his uniform, of the barrier between him and the world, was ripped away, but he stood his ground. He was almost naked now, his stout, muscular, hirsuite body completely exposed, but still he didn't flinch. Another grab, another flip, and yet another THUD as the Wolverine impacted against the wall.

Scott found himself breathless, shaky, and he didn't know why, as the Wolverine charged yet again. This time, something changed in Logan's stance. Maybe he saw a weakness, an opening he'd been waiting for. Maybe he'd just gotten tired of using the same tactic so often. Either way, when the Wolverine charged this time, Logan jumped straight up, higher than Scott had thought he was able to with the adamantium in his skeleton. The timing was perfect, the positioning impeccable...he landed on the Wolverine's back just as its claws slashed across the spot where he had been standing. In a smooth, fluid motion, the man had his wrists crossed under the animal's throat, and Scott heard the distinctive steel SNIKT of his own claws flashing free, glinting in the Danger Room light as they came together just under the Wolverine's Adam's apple.

The two figures, man and monster, stayed locked like that for a while, as if posing for a statue: the triumph of man over his bestial nature. Except for one difference...where the Wolverine had been beaten without getting a scratch on it, Logan was completely naked, his unifom in tatters on the floor around them. Seeing him like that...nude, proud, strong, and still utterly human...Scott felt his mouth go dry. Swallowing hard, he adjusted the crotch of his own uniform...when had it gotten so tight?

As he watched the naked X-Man head for the showers, Scott keyed a control almost unconsciously, uploading the holographic recordings of the entire fight. Waiting until he saw the soundproof door close, the field leader tabbed one more keystroke, and holograms of Logan and the Wolverine popped back up.

In a stroke of what, to him, felt like foolhardy courage, Scott stripped the pants of his costume down his athletically muscular legs as he watched the fight replay itself. Understanding what he knew now, the fight was a thing of beauty, Logan's independence and refusal to back down more arousing to him than the hottest porn flick...although the exposure of that beautiful, masculine body, and the visible comfort nudity brought him, didn't hurt at all. Watching him stand his ground, refuse to let anything cow or faze him...seeing the poetry in motion in his body as he conquered his enemy again and again by using its own force, its own aggression against it...Scott's fist closed around his stiff cock almost involuntarily, his gaze never leaving the man in the center of the Danger Room.

When the holographic Logan pinned the Wolverine a second time, Scott shuddered and gasped as his orgasm hit him with the force of a brick wall, as his cock jerked and spasmed and shot its load all over his uniform.

Once he caught his breath, and cleaned himself up as best he could, he got up and made the decision. He had to talk to Logan, or try at least. After what he'd seen, what he'd learned...

He deserves to know he's not alone. He has to know he's got friends, support...even from me.

And more, if he wants it.

~TBC...~