[Logan, Kurt] Where did you say we were going?

[x-bamf.livejournal.com]

Careful conversation about anxieties in a confined space.


Logan hates flying.

Kurt hates flying with Logan.

"Dammit," Logan growls, strapping himself into the seatbelt. "The fuck was Chuck thinkin', sendin' me on this mission? Dammit," he repeats. Finally latching the buckle, he glares at Kurt as though it's all his fault.

Kurt's expression is infuriatingly mild. "Perhaps Professor Xavier felt it would be theraputic for you to fly on a short trip," he suggests. A businesswoman on the same flight is eyeing Logan with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Kurt gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile and then tentatively pats Logan's arm. "What could go wrong?"

Logan stares at Kurt's hand on his, lips curled in a snarl. "Theraputic?" he growls in a warning tone. "I'm not a fuckin' photographer an' this ain't Paris. There's plenty of folks he coulda sent instead." He looks away from Kurt long enough to raise his eyebrow challengingly at the woman; she has no right to be amused at his fear, he thinks, not even bothering to scent her.

Kurt summons up all his patience and moves his hand away slowly. "I think you underestimate yourself," he says gently. "Professor Xavier seems to put a fair amount of faith in you. Perhaps he's just trying to express that further."

Kurt pauses, thinking, and then continues, hoping that with luck this matter could be resolved on the flight and then flying with Logan wouldn't make him want to stuff the other man in the overhead storage compartment. "Are you angry because you don't like to fly and he sent you, or because you don't like people knowing things frighten you?"

Logan grinds his teeth, rumbling in annoyance. It's none of Kurt's damned business, he thinks, whether or not he's afraid of anything. "I am /not/ afraid of flyin'."

"That," Kurt says dryly, "is a deliberate falsehood, Logan. I've flown with you a number of times now and you're not the only one with unusually good senses or the ability of observation around here, you know."

That earns Kurt a frown and a glare. "Dammit," Logan says again. "/Dammit/."

"What's wrong with being afraid of something?" Kurt's genuinely curious. "We all are, at some point, Logan. We're human, we have weak souls, it's why we..." He was going to say, 'Why we need God', but he was confined in a very limited space and about to move outside of range of safe teleportation very soon, so he wasn't about to launch into theology with Logan. "Regardless, you shouldn't be ashamed of it."

"There's nothin' wrong with bein' afraid," Logan growls. "But it ain't nobody's business if I am'r not." Which doesn't explain why he's pissed that Chuck sent him on this mission, or maybe it does.

"We're partners. If you're afraid of something, it is my business." Kurt points out reasonably, but then takes a look at Logan's expression. "But you seem to be handling it fine," he concludes and decides to let the matter drop, possibly too late. The stewardess is standing by their seats, a pretty little blonde woman smiling down at them almost affectionately.

"Sorry for the delay in take-off, you two," she says brightly. "We'll be on our way any time now. Can I get either of you anything right now?"

"Whisky," Logan growls, glaring at Kurt, and then offers the stewardess what might pass for a friendly look, if the person judging were drunk.

Kurt gives Logan a look of tolerant understanding tempered with a little disapproval. "Just water please," he tells the stewardess, turning to her at last with a slightly apologetic smile.

"I'll be right back with that," she says brightly, and heads for the back of the plane.

"You didn't want to come?" Kurt says quietly, once the woman's gone.

"No, I fuckin' well didn't wanna come," Logan growls, his head whipping back toward Kurt. "Why d'they need me for this? I'm not a photographer, I'm a killer."

Kurt's taken aback by the response. He's accustomed to Logan being irritable, even downright rude at times, but this is more than his usual complete and unapologetic lack of tact and grace. There's silence while the stewardess serves them and Kurt ponders what to say next. "I'm not a photographer either, I'm a circ -- an acrobat," he says at last. "But we will get the job done, won't we?" He can't figure out why Logan would agree to something he so vehemently doesn't want to do and isn't sure he should be going on any kind of mission with someone who so obviously doesn't want to be there. It could compromise them if there's something serious brewing.

"Yeah," Logan sighs. "We'll get it done an' get back t'the mansion in one piece." He glances at Kurt, or the Kurt that the image inducer has produced. "Well. Two."

Kurt glances over at him, wanting to know more, but not wanting to ask. He's anxious now, reaching into the breast pocket of the suit he's wearing, a custom tailored version of the one showing up on the image inducer, for his rosary.

Logan raises an eyebrow. Now that Kurt's the one who's nervous, he's curious, rather than annoyed. "Somethin' wrong?"

"I'm uncomfortable about the fact that you don't want to be here," he says, trying to set a good example by being open with his mission partner. The polished rosewood beads of the rosary slide through his fingers in a comforting cascade, the carved tagua nut cross settles into his palm.

"I do what I'm told," Logan says with a shrug, then takes a drink of whisky. "I don't wanna be here, 'cause I don't know what Chuck wants from me, sendin' me on this kinda mission. An' 'cause, yeah, I don't like flyin'."

Kurt gives Logan a slightly incredulous look. "I'm certain that all Professor Xavier wants from you is the proof we need to assist the authorities in dismantling the cell of the FoH in that area," he says tentatively, his voice very low. "He wouldn't have sent you if you couldn't do the job. If you disagree, you should have said so."

"I c'n do it. But so could a lotta other folks," Logan points out, being reasonable for once.

Kurt ponders this and then offers, "But I'm the only teleporter. And I like working with you." The admission surprises even him, but it's true. The other man is nothing if not determined to get things done and go home so people will leave him alone and that simplifies things. Also, Logan is happy to do things that Kurt would prefer not to have to do, even though he allows that they may be necessary, which is a relief.

Logan's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Y-- okay." He shrugs, nodding. "Works for me."

The pilot begins to drone the usual information and admonitions and the plane moves onto the runway. "Does that alleviate your concerns about this assignment?" Kurt asks.

Logan snorts and takes another drink of his whisky. "When he lands th'plane, my concerns'll be alleviated."

Kurt calls up the image of Saint Expeditus in his mind and nods. "...on the return trip," he says, amending Logan's statement. At least the flight is a nearly deserted first class charter, he muses, looking about.

His fingers find the cross and before he can bring it to his lips, the words to the Apostle's Creed echo in his head, the response is reflexive now. Ignoring any looks that may come his way, he brings the cross to his lips, crosses himself, and begins to pray silently: Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem; Creatorem coeli et terrae...