Scott rolled and broke through the surface of sleep, heaving up out of sweaty bedclothes and confronting the slap of cooler air with a shock. He was in bed, Logan beside him wrestling himself onto one elbow with a sleep-tousled expression on his face. Scott sucked in one breath, then another, one after the next until he was sure they'd continue.
"I just..." he began, still coping with the juxtaposition of what had been and what was here now.
"I know," Logan said, and it was an echo that twanged through both of them.
"Do you think I...that we... I mean, I'm not sure how it's possible but I've experienced something like this before," Scott began, scrambling up everything hopelessly. "Maybe in the psychic residue of being the subject of...such power...I..."
"I figured that out," Logan said dryly. "If you're saying we've gone and gotten ourselves stuck with a psychic bond, I mean. Like you said, dunno how. But there it is."
"There it is," Scott echoed, lapsing back onto the bed and passing a hand over his face. He was wearing his battle visor again, which made sense seeing as it had been the only thing handy in Logan's room and he still hadn't proved willing to go all the way back to his room to fetch one of his alternate pairs.
"Didn't know what to do about it," Logan continued, still up on his elbow and looking down now at Scott as he relaxed into a boneless sprawl on the bed. "As it turns out you don't hate me, so there's a relief."
Scott laughed. There was a sort of hysterical edge of surprise to it, but he grinned anyhow. "Is wanting me why I pissed you off so much, then?" He was thinking too far back now, he was sure; from the very first he and Logan had been crowding one another like a pair of alpha males wanting nothing better than to get each other out of the way.
Logan scratched at one sideburn, reflective. "Nah, it was mostly a dominance thing, really. Just wanted to push you around, make you back down. But you, Slim, I figure you weren't backin' down because you were resisting bein' attracted to me as hard as you could. Am I wrong?"
Scott's jaw tightened, muscle flexing at the base of those high, sharp cheekbones. "You're not wrong," he acknowledged.
"So," Logan pressed, touching him now as if knowing in advance it wouldn't be rejected. He probably did know. His blunt fingers stroked over Scott's belly and stirred up something entirely the opposite from distaste. "What do you want to do about it?"
"Oh, I can think of a few things. Some of them might require a few days for me to recuperate, though."
Logan's handsome face crinkled up into a grin and he snagged him close with one strong arm. "Let's start out with the ones that involve hands and mouth and friction, then," he suggested.
"By all means."