['I'll sleep when I'm dead' used to be a phrase Logan used a little too much in his life, when he had things to get done and no time to devote to himself. It gets a little too dark when you realize that in death he's come to be a dreamer here, and even that's not been restful. With familiar faces appearing in various shades of familiar - and the ones he does know, they're the ones he's been worried the most over. Charles has been his own handful, but Jean? There's so much to Logan's worries with Jean.
He'd been running on empty and only just been coaxed to sleep, where falling into it was indeed like dying; he was out like a light when he was able to relax. So deeply into it that he did snore, but every tense muscle loosened up. Unlike Jean he had no dreams, none that were easy to remember, so he stirs back to the waking world easily enough by the press of weight against his side. For a moment it sparks a too familiar motion for him to wrap his arm around her, like so many other mornings in a distant universe. Then he lifts his head from the pillow, realizing where they are and yet not relenting.]
[ Even as that arm comes around her, she finds herself resting against him a little more, curiously searching through the settings on the fluid that could turn the music off. Lovely as it is, it unfortunately stirred Logan from his much needed rest. ]
Just some music.
[ When she finds the means to turn it off, she sets the fluid back onto the night table and turns just enough within that arm to look down to him. She doesn't pull away, doesn't look to find distance between them, but she also doesn't come closer, even as she smiles to him. ]
[An open and honest answer, made as he wipes at the inner corner of his eye with his free hand and gets more calibrated into the moment. Jean's - here, that's one big thing to remember. She's awake, the second. The third? Well, she isn't pulling away from him. That is what he considers a small victory. He stares at her rather fondly, head resting back against the pillow.]
[ Fingers gently tug and play with the buttons of his shirt in a nonchalant sort of way. Almost as if out of habit in some strange way. His question, however, gets her to hum and glance off to the side. ]
Like I've slept a lot longer than I should have.
[ Too Much Sleep is definitely a thing. But she pushes herself up a little more, gaze lingering on him for a long moment with an easy smile on her lips before she cants her head to the side. ]
You wouldn't happen to have something I could borrow to wear, would you?
[ A beat, she glances down to the green and gold she's in. ]
I wouldn't mind being in something that isn't so dirty or skin tight.
[He says with a waving gesture, while sitting up himself. His joints are stiff despite the rest, and he massages his shoulder once sitting up properly. The dresser has a few items in it, but most of his shirts hang in the closet. White button downs, some plaid next to blazers. Other items like the tank tops are in the drawers, few and far between. He lives like a bachelor, so there's not a lot present.]
I can - I'll go clean up.
[He says with a nod toward the ensuite, which he pitches himself to his feet to head toward and give her some time to change. He'll just wash his face or something to pass a few minutes, leaving the door ajar.]
[ There's a playful squint of her eyes when she catches the door not fully shut but she trusts him enough as she sits there on the bed, looking over the blood and dirt that stains the pretty green and gold. Colours that she has no idea the significance of to others they know, yet somehow just seems... right on her; she's going to have to hope she can wash this since it's only the one she has.
While Logan cleans himself up, Jean looks through the various things he has that she can wear until she gets back to her place. It's typical Logan wear but, honestly, will do in a pinch. Not like she's dressing to impress or anything. So she peels the green and gold off her and slips into one of the tank tops, throwing on a plaid button down which she only does up halfway. Pants are... a problem. Sort of. Not too bad but she helps herself to a pair of jeans and tries to tighten it around the waist the best she can. It's not gigantic? But no slim fit either. Still, not like she's going to object to a little room in the pant legs and with her costume dropped down to the bed, she rubs at the back of her neck then, already trying to work out how to clean this costume of hers. ]
[Logan makes a casual remark as he returns to the room after giving enough time for her to find some things to wear, letting his gaze trickle over the way she's cinching denim to her hips. He'd much prefer her all long legs and loose fitting shirt, but beggars can't be choosers. He heads toward the same chest of drawers to paw through them for a cleaner shirt, swapping what he has on for it casually - shrugging it on over a tanktop he doesn't change. Because he'll just rather keep those scars hidden for now, the ones that mar his back like a battlefield.]
I'll drive you home.... whenever you want. No rush.
[ The roll of her eyes is a playful one at his commentary over her current choice in clothing and for a minute, it feels like they're back home. Funny to think how neither of them are going to go back and see that... at least from what she can tell. That's when she finds herself looking over to him as he shrugs the shirt on over his shoulders. She doesn't see the marks he wears, doesn't even know about them really. But she can tell... how tired he is, both physically and emotionally and she can't help but want to reach out to him.
So she does. Fingers gently walking across a shoulder blade as she comes up behind him, a smile so carefully on her lips as she moves to stand in front of him and gently cradles his face within her hands. She stares to him, eyes searching his own. Not with the intent to slip into his mind and see the things that he keeps so tightly held against his chest. But to simply see him, right here in front of her, as the man he's become mixed with the man she still knows exists within him.
And despite the heavy beating of her heart, she kisses him. Soft and slow, a tentative means to taste his heart on his lips. Letting it linger for only a moment before she takes a breath for herself and smiles a little sheepishly against his lips, voice soft. ]
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deerington | inbox for James "Logan" Howlett
no subject
He'd been running on empty and only just been coaxed to sleep, where falling into it was indeed like dying; he was out like a light when he was able to relax. So deeply into it that he did snore, but every tense muscle loosened up. Unlike Jean he had no dreams, none that were easy to remember, so he stirs back to the waking world easily enough by the press of weight against his side. For a moment it sparks a too familiar motion for him to wrap his arm around her, like so many other mornings in a distant universe. Then he lifts his head from the pillow, realizing where they are and yet not relenting.]
's that a fucking alarm?
no subject
Just some music.
[ When she finds the means to turn it off, she sets the fluid back onto the night table and turns just enough within that arm to look down to him. She doesn't pull away, doesn't look to find distance between them, but she also doesn't come closer, even as she smiles to him. ]
How are you feeling?
no subject
[An open and honest answer, made as he wipes at the inner corner of his eye with his free hand and gets more calibrated into the moment. Jean's - here, that's one big thing to remember. She's awake, the second. The third? Well, she isn't pulling away from him. That is what he considers a small victory. He stares at her rather fondly, head resting back against the pillow.]
You?
no subject
Like I've slept a lot longer than I should have.
[ Too Much Sleep is definitely a thing. But she pushes herself up a little more, gaze lingering on him for a long moment with an easy smile on her lips before she cants her head to the side. ]
You wouldn't happen to have something I could borrow to wear, would you?
[ A beat, she glances down to the green and gold she's in. ]
I wouldn't mind being in something that isn't so dirty or skin tight.
no subject
[He says with a waving gesture, while sitting up himself. His joints are stiff despite the rest, and he massages his shoulder once sitting up properly. The dresser has a few items in it, but most of his shirts hang in the closet. White button downs, some plaid next to blazers. Other items like the tank tops are in the drawers, few and far between. He lives like a bachelor, so there's not a lot present.]
I can - I'll go clean up.
[He says with a nod toward the ensuite, which he pitches himself to his feet to head toward and give her some time to change. He'll just wash his face or something to pass a few minutes, leaving the door ajar.]
no subject
While Logan cleans himself up, Jean looks through the various things he has that she can wear until she gets back to her place. It's typical Logan wear but, honestly, will do in a pinch. Not like she's dressing to impress or anything. So she peels the green and gold off her and slips into one of the tank tops, throwing on a plaid button down which she only does up halfway. Pants are... a problem. Sort of. Not too bad but she helps herself to a pair of jeans and tries to tighten it around the waist the best she can. It's not gigantic? But no slim fit either. Still, not like she's going to object to a little room in the pant legs and with her costume dropped down to the bed, she rubs at the back of her neck then, already trying to work out how to clean this costume of hers. ]
no subject
[Logan makes a casual remark as he returns to the room after giving enough time for her to find some things to wear, letting his gaze trickle over the way she's cinching denim to her hips. He'd much prefer her all long legs and loose fitting shirt, but beggars can't be choosers. He heads toward the same chest of drawers to paw through them for a cleaner shirt, swapping what he has on for it casually - shrugging it on over a tanktop he doesn't change. Because he'll just rather keep those scars hidden for now, the ones that mar his back like a battlefield.]
I'll drive you home.... whenever you want. No rush.
no subject
So she does. Fingers gently walking across a shoulder blade as she comes up behind him, a smile so carefully on her lips as she moves to stand in front of him and gently cradles his face within her hands. She stares to him, eyes searching his own. Not with the intent to slip into his mind and see the things that he keeps so tightly held against his chest. But to simply see him, right here in front of her, as the man he's become mixed with the man she still knows exists within him.
And despite the heavy beating of her heart, she kisses him. Soft and slow, a tentative means to taste his heart on his lips. Letting it linger for only a moment before she takes a breath for herself and smiles a little sheepishly against his lips, voice soft. ]
Sorry for ruining your walls.