Never Fall In Love
Fandom: X-Men movie verse
Paring: Logan/Scott
Rating: M
Status: New Complete
Archive: If you ask nicely :)
Series/Sequel: No
Disclaimers: They aren't mine. You know that. I'm just borrowing them.
Thanks:LYTHIAS, who read and inspired me to write. ERIKA, my darling, who
reads all my stuff and is working so hard to check my stuff and inspires so
much of my work.
Summary:Musings of a traitor.
Warnings:Slash themes. Violence
I had lingered too long, gotten too attached, and now, I didn't want to leave.
I had to leave, or else things would get nasty.
I had never meant for it to happen. My objective was clear. Get in, get the information, get out. Didn't matter which hearts had to be broken, whose neck I had to break, who I had use and discard, so long as I got the necessary information.
But, I couldn't have just done that, could I? I had to go and develop feelings for the Goddamn son of a bitch.
Fuck, I was in trouble now.
It all started innocously enough. I was given an identity, a name, a history, or perhaps that should be a lack thereof, and sent in.
It all ran so much smoother than I could have planned, when I met that girl. Rogue. She led me straight to the school, right to Xavier's base of operations.
All that telelpathy training paid off. Never once did he suspect that I was betraying him. Neither him nor the doctor bitch. They both acted so superior, so nicely corteous. They thought I was nothing, a tool to be used and filed away.
Then, I met him. With his hidden eyes and permanent scowl, and that oh, so pretty mouth.
What I could get him to do with that mouth.
I diverge. I knew immdeiately that he was the best point. He was the leader, not the fool in the chair, this was the strategic base. He was hot for me, I smelt it when I snarled at him the first time.
I had to cover that from the old fool though. I played up having some kind of feelings for the red haired bitch, even flirting with her as my hand under the table was touching her boyfriend.
He was easy to get into bed, and easier to get the information from. He was so shy and so virgin like, he reminded me of her, all those years ago.
I had gotten too attached to her as well.
We spent so many nights together. He was eager to please, I was eager to be pleased. That pretty mouth was every bit as nice I thought it would be, so were those slender hands and tight arse.
I got the information from him as well. He was more relaxed after sex, mind you, being fucked stupid will do that to most people. He wasn't sure, but I bullied and cajoled until he told me what I needed to know.
Then, I had to go and fuck it up by helping the girl.
That coma was so strange. I saw and heard everything, but none of it made sense. I heard the disapproving voice of the that bitch doctor, the wheelchair bound idiot, and my fuck toy. He was the only one who madde sense, he came in and cried sometimes, and I wondered if his tears were as red as his eyes.
When I woke up, I realised I had to leave. I had stayed on longer than I was meant to anyway, don't ask why, just that I found it hard to give up certain things and people. I had beent here for three weeks longer than was necessary.
He asked me to stay. He never cried, not like he did when he thought I was unaware, but his voice trembled, asking me if I loved him like I had claimed.
My heart nearly broke watching him, and I knew that if I said I loved him, I'd never get out of there.
And they'd kill him like they had her, when I fell in love.
So I sneered at him, laughed and said that I'd told him that because I wanted that tight arse, wanted to fuck him into next week, and he'd been gullible enough to believe me.
It was the one time I was thankful that I couldn't see those eyes. If I'd had to seen the pain in them, I think it might have killed me as quick as those blasts of his.
He stared at me and punched me once, in the face. I was thankful for the pain, it made life real, brought me out, let me pretend to hate him.
He walked out without another word.
I left that day. I gave those false tags, my false identity, to the girl, Rogue. I walked out, with every intention of never coming back.
But, even then, I couldn't let go. I had to take his bike, keep him close.
They called me, said they were glad that I hadn't started to show an emotional attachment to the man, otherwise they might have been forced to remind me of where my loyalties were.
I knew where my loyalties had to lie. Because now, they had something to hold over me. They knew, I knew that they knew, and they used that knowledge.
Goddamn that fucking boy. Why'd he have to be so Goddamn perfect for me?
I always swore never to fall in love again.
Guess I should have told my heart that, hey?
The End