Post by ♥ Nathan ♥ on Jun 11, 2012 23:56:19 GMT -5
Logan. said:
Talking to Ben was easy – it has always been easy. Ben is all charm and disarming jokes and understanding. Even the heavy things, he delivers less like a punch to the gut and more like a pat on the shoulder. Everything is fine, everyone is doing well. He’s added another son to the gaggle of young Duvalls running around. Mother still talks about him, misses him, he should call.
And Logan did.
The phone call with his mother was filled with heavy, awkward silences. It was painful at first but gradually both found their footing, both opened up. There were apologies, assurances that no apologies were necessary, would ever be necessary. They went on to talk about John, to share their memories of the man they called husband and father. Minute by minute, hour by hour, word by word, those ghosts haunting the vestiges of the man’s soul were exorcised.
The bridges Logan thought he burned still stand strong, ready for him to pass on over, back to the other side.
He’s ready to come home.
The revelation that he would be bringing someone else up with him –who happened to be male-- for his visit was met differently by Ben and his mother. Benjamin laughed for two solid minutes, guffawed, made some bizarre noises that were likely an attempt at talking through his laughter. An exasperated, glowering Logan waited on the other end. Then Benjamin delivered a heartfelt, honest ’that’s awesome.’ The Duvall matriarch responded with careful maturity. Logan’s mother was silent for a weighted moment of time. What she provided was a warm ’I look forward to meeting him’.
He’s ready to take Nathan there with him.
Logan cleared a window of time with Nathan. Two weeks. Tickets bought, things packed, Lark boarded with a local kennel that Logan thoroughly checked out—only the best for his dog-child. Airport security, as always, was a hassle. Nathan was selected, at random, for a thorough screening. Logan stood there, glaring daggers at the TSA agent because his wolf is ridiculous and has issues with anyone touching Nathan. The flight from Tennessee to Anchorage, Alaska was incredibly long. They touched down in Denver briefly to exchange planes. Logan slept most of the way through because that’s how Logan operates.
Once in Anchorage, the men gathered their bags, headed to the rental car kiosks. Logan got them a Subaru Outback, tossed their things in the back. They hit the road, pulled onto the Seward Highway and are headed towards the Duvall family home.
There’s Lunatic Fringe playing from the radio, a steady and deliberate beat. Logan has been fine throughout the trip but now that he’s here, back in his home state, his nerves are starting to rebel. He reaches out, turns the volume down.
”So, Alaska,” he says, looking for conversation to distract him from the anxiety clawing at his shoulders. ”What do you think so far?” Logan offers one of his crooked smiles but wisely keeps his eyes on the winding Alaskan highway.
Being here, with Nathan of all people, is surreal. It feels right. It feels like finding one more piece of the puzzle and setting it back into place.
Nate said:
The indignity of the TSA screening is made all the worse by Nathan’s frustrated muttering, under-his-breath curses and sworn vows to never fly again; it’s a skillful check of his tongue that gets him on the plane at all. He complains for the first leg of the trip, grumbling off and on between peering out the airplane’s window, until Logan’s snoring finally lures him in and he passes out with his head on the man’s shoulder. The hours pass leisurely, suspended moments in time.
They land, and Nathan is immediately struck by how little he has to make a comparison to – how unlike Alaska is to any place he’s ever been. There are mountains.
The whole place looks different, smells different, feels different. More alive. By the time they’re out on the highway, radio blaring, Nathan’s wolf is awake and prowling beneath his skin, not with malicious intent but with wild interest. The natural beauty is enough to keep him occupied, but not quite so much that he forgets his lingering fears – worries for Lark, so far away, worries about what Logan’s family will think of him. Worries involving him making a complete, city-slicker ass of himself. Logan’s family seems like the strangely accepting sort, but it doesn’t settle Nathan’s anxiety to remember just how poorly he fits in.
Instead of dwelling on it, Nate settles back into the drive, into the music – he finds it easier, these days, to push his concerns aside and leave them for later, when they’ll matter. It probably says something about his improved emotional health that he can at least ignore his reservations, no matter how they nag at him, instead of simply giving in. So by the time Logan turns the volume down, Nathan’s tapping the beat out on the windowsill with his fingertips in an attempt to just relax and go with the flow – something that’s coming surprisingly easily. He picks his head up and pulls away from the view of the twisting Alaskan coastline, turning to face Logan with an effortless grin.
”I don’t know how you ever left it.” Ten years ago – five years ago – Nathan would never have been able to appreciate this. He’s never been much of a traveler, more of a homebody than an explorer, and the cities he’d spent his entire life in were well worn and reassuring, a cold comfort he could rely on. It took bending to the point of nearly being broken for any of that to change – for a rural little hole like Blackwater to somehow turn into the most charming place on earth. Whatever shifted in him, it apparently applied to his growing wanderlust, to his willingness to never live in another city again, if he could help it.
Maybe it’s just Logan, and how seeing the man light up makes Nathan happy in return – like all he’d ever need in life is to see him smile, and it wouldn’t matter where they were.
”Did you… tell your mom about us?” He'd like to have some idea of what he’s getting into, though Nathan trusts that Logan wouldn’t have brought him here just for his family to ostracize him. ”And how many kids does your brother have?”
At least no one can nag him for not producing grandchildren.
Logan. said:
It is a wistful smile that Logan wears. Here, back home, back where the mountains kiss the open sky, where the forests are endless, the ocean right there, Logan can almost forget why he left. Almost. He is not here to dwell on the past, even if this is where his twenty-year-long interstate voyage began. Logan, for the first time, is ready to move forward for the sake of moving forward, not to run, not to try and leave past regrets and insecurities behind.
”Well, I’m back now.” There is weight to the proclamation, despite his grin and light tone. Logan reaches out, places a hand on Nathan’s thigh and gives it a playful squeeze. ”And with the most attractive man alive.” Laying it on thick, even if he means it, to break the tension, to assuage any anxiousness. His hand lingers, his grin tunes down. ”Only took me twenty years to find him, but I think the wait was worth it.” After the incident at the diner, Logan has been making an effort in being more open. Mostly his romantic overtures come out as some sort of garbled mutation of honest sentiment, off-color joke, and innuendo, but sometimes they hit their mark. He’s a work in progress.
At the mentioning of his mother, Logan removes his hand and places it back on the wheel. He glances at Nathan through the rearview mirror. ”Yeah, I told her. She said she was looking forward to meeting you.” Victoria is a devout woman. She goes to church every Sunday, volunteers for every event. Logan suspects his mother was so accepting over the phone because she did not want to give her son reason to stay away. What she really feels, he can’t say, but he does know she’ll be polite. It’s something.
”The new one makes six.” Logan gives an amused huff, presses his mind for their names. ”Let’s see. In order… Anna, Greg, Skylar, Jessica, Adrian…and. Ah,” he simpers when he can’t remember the latest addition’s name. ”And the new one,” he concludes, defeated. His mind goes back to the thought of his mother, to the fact that Nathan isn’t exactly (at all) a woman.
He needs to make something clear.
”If any of them gives you trouble. You come to me. They’re family but you’re…” Logan searches for the right wording. Boyfriend. Partner. Lover. Safe harbor. They are just words, titles, they don’t hold enough meaning. He can’t define it. ”…you.” He hopes Nathan gets it. Logan takes his eyes off of the road long enough to level an earnest stare onto the other man. ”Don’t think you need to protect me. If there’s anything wrong –anything. You tell me. Promise me that.”
Logan has his priorities. Nathan is on the top of the list, circled in red, underlined and highlighted for emphasis.
Nate said:
A harsh exhalation meets Logan’s words, a smile forcing its way onto Nathan’s lips as he looks down, away, hiding his own embarrassment. Ever the modest man, always mild about accepting compliments, even when they’re delivered by the man he loves and make him grin from ear to ear.
”Must not be a very good hunter, huh,” he adds, glancing up at Logan out of the corner of his eye – his beaming smile retreating to a teasing smirk. ”Taking all those years to catch me.” He leans back, taps his chin thoughtfully. ”Stopped me running in the end, though, so that’s gotta be worth something.”
The scenery calls to him, and Nathan regrets, momentarily, that he has nothing to share in return – no childhood home, no family. Logan is, perhaps, the first man he’s ever felt like he should share that with, like he could. Nathan remembers the little blue and white house in Spring Valley, the peeling wallpaper he’d never patched and the leaking sink he’d always meant to fix; a decade of his life is etched onto those walls, into the house’s collective memory, and it might be the only place he feels any hint of lingering attachment towards. But the werewolf is not a nostalgic man and not prone to flights of pensive longing; the house is sold, repainted and gutted, and nowhere in Vegas will ever feel like home again.
Logan probably wouldn’t have felt very comfortable there, anyway – and if that means that Nathan’s only choice is forging new memories instead of sharing the old, he’ll take it. It’s certainly no sacrifice.
Everything changes. In a simple span of months, of the fastest year Nate’s known, he’s gone from shirking love entirely to anticipation at the thought of meeting Logan’s family. His mother, his brother. All those children.
”They’ll all be there?” Wherever it is they’re going; if Logan’s arranged some sort of huge Duvall family reunion or not. ”I guess someone’s got the children thing covered.” He knows Anna is apparently old enough to be off on her own, but with the others following after her, any amount of them could be running about underfoot – screaming, crying, doing what kids do. Telling their friends in school about their uncle and his Male Friend. Barging through accidentally unlocked doors in the middle of the night. A nerve behind Nate’s eye twitches at the sudden, intrusive thought of Logan’s mother asking them to sleep in separate rooms.
He cracks the window to let in a hint of fresh air. Fingers press searchingly into the fabric of his jacket’s breast pocket, a habitual, subconscious gesture for the carton of cigarettes that is no longer there – has not been for weeks. It’s an involuntary response to the uncoiled tendrils of anxiety, a need for a treatment he’s used for years successfully, and yet Nathan feels no more than a lingering craving when he catches himself. He turns his head towards the window instead, lets the clean breeze work its magic.
”I’ll let you know,” Nate replies, glancing back with hard eyes. He doesn’t want to put Logan in that position – doesn’t want to feel like he’s making the man choose – but there is a fierceness to his devotion that would never allow him to walk away. ”Never brought guys home before, huh?” A terse smile cuts across his face, because he understands. He can handle ignorance. Nathan has never been overt about his sexuality, from flings fueled by a teenage libido to later long-term relationships, but it’s not something he will deny or hide, either. Particularly when it comes to Logan.
It’s malicious attempts at dehumanization that Nathan can’t abide – but he’s also got a feeling that any household that managed to raise Logan (and a sasquatch-clown) can’t foster that sort of atmosphere. Maybe just a stiff, unwelcoming one; or, just as likely, one filled with pancakes and warmth.
Nate’s gunning for the latter.
”Then again, I somehow charmed you into my bed, didn't I.” It's voiced as a point of pride, of affection, a lighthearted comment to soothe away the brusque moment. Nate leans back, relaxed and easy, shrugging away the hesitance and letting an easy smile well up at the thought - Logan is his. Nothing can get in the way of that. ”Getting the rest of your clan to just like me can’t be quite as implausible.”
Logan. said:
”Anna and Greg won’t be there but the rest, yeah.” Anna is out doing her thing, Greg is at college. Logan cannot wrap his mind around how much things must have changed. The kids he recalls being kids are teenagers now; he wonders if they’ll even remember him. There was a point in his life where Logan thought the wife and kid thing was what he wanted, what he worked towards. A man trying to emulate his father, perhaps, but life took a different turn – a better one, since it lead him here.
There is always the possibility that things won’t transpire perfectly, that the meeting with his family won’t be ideal, but Logan is done being a pessimist. Those years he spent in his youth wondering what the hell was wrong with him was a cage of his own making. He never talked about it because, as Nathan has witnessed, talking about problems is not one of Logan’s strong points. It was a methodology of he’s a man, men deal with their own issues. ”Never wanted to, til’ now.” There was only one, real and actual relationship before Nathan – and that was with a woman.
He ducks his head, gives a laugh because it hadn’t taken much. One look at Nathan’s smile was enough to bowl Logan over. Head over heels. Hook line and sinker. It was something of a miracle he was able to keep his hands to himself for so long. ”They’ll like you just fine. Don’t you worry.” Logan flashes a disarming grin, quietly thinks to himself that if anyone says anything to the contrary, he’ll deck them.
Or at least really, really think about it.
The highway winds on and through the conversation, Logan contents himself with basking in the scenery. There’s an ache in his chest, one of longing – the feeling of years of homesickness finally rushing out for treatment. He tells Nathan that they’re headed to the old family home. Ben owns it now on account of his ever-expanding family, but their mother is going to stop by to visit. There is tons of space so they shouldn’t have to worry too much about constantly having one of the kids underfoot.
Logan peels off of the highway and follows a series of back roads. Eventually the asphalt disappears into gravel and dirt. They delve deeper into the forests until, as far as the eye can see, there are tall evergreen and birch trees on either side of the road. ”Almost there,” he says with a quiet smile and there is a mixture of giddiness and trepidation warring inside of his blood.
One last turn and the woods open up. There’s a sizeable pond and a rustic homestead surrounded by a thick tree line. The Subaru pulls up the gravel driveway and parks off to the side. Logan sends Nathan an encouraging glance and slips outside, looks around for any signs of life.
From the open garage, a man pokes his head out. His hair is a mess of black, his round face fully bearded. The grin he wears is nearly manic. He waddles towards the pair, carrying a toddler perched against his side. He is wearing overalls and –Logan shakes his head – those damned rainbow suspenders.
”The prodigal son returns!” The man who can only be Ben declares. His overalls are covered in splotches of paint, and the young baby he carries plays with its purple-colored hands. ”I was making signs. You came before I finished them,” he segways into a mock-accusatory tone.
Logan stands there, lips pulling into a slow grin because for as much as some things have changed, other things haven’t changed at all. ” Well, I’m sorry Ben, truly.” He turns gray eyes onto Nathan. ”This is my younger brother, Ben.”
”Little brother,” the rainbow suspender-wearing giant of a man interrupts, grinning like it’s a joke.
”That’s never been funny,” Logan says.
”It’s always been funny,” Ben corrects with a triumphant smirk. He turns his attention onto Nathan. ”And you must be Nate. At least I hope you’re Nate. Otherwise this exchange might be awkward.”
Logan shakes his head, rubs at the bridge of his nose. ”Real smooth, Ben,” he says and the smile is clear in his voice.
Not to be deterred, Ben holds out his massive hand – clean of paint—for Nathan to shake. ”Welcome to La Casa de Duvall.” The baby gives a giggle and slaps his hand against his father’s face, leaves a tiny purple handprint on the man’s cheek.
It’s good to be home.
Nate said:
Don’t you worry.
There’s a prescription in Nathan’s duffel that clearly means he’s entitled to worry, but it does seem that much easier to forget when Logan is around. If anything, he can try.
The miles roll by; the Subaru can’t eat up the road fast enough, and the trip has already been long, but Nate finds no will to sleep. Logan keeps him occupied with his informal smiles and the occasional anecdote regarding the area, the house they’re headed towards, his family. Nathan just soaks it all in, the anticipatory excitement at two weeks off, planned and organized (versus spontaneous and chaotic, as his other recent “vacations” had been), working its way into his bloodstream. He has a good feeling; things will work out all right. He’d put up with too much shit recently for it not to – it has to even out somewhere.
Out of the woods grows an expansive house – one of the sort that gives Nate the idea it was built entirely by hand, by Logan’s father or men further back, clutched close to the family’s heart. Car doors slam, and a man exits the garage to greet them – a man who, despite Nate having never even seen a photo of him, is instantly recognizable.
Logan had warned him about Ben, but it hadn’t done any good – apparently, seeing is believing. He grazes a discerning eye over those suspenders, but levels out on the baby, on Ben’s face. Nathan isn’t sure he’s ever felt short before – small – but Ben makes him feel every last inch of his miserable five-something height; he thinks he should hit the gym more. Maybe take second helpings.
Clown-sasquatch had been disturbingly accurate. Probably best to not bring that moniker up.
”Nate, yeah,” he replies with an easily smile - because only Logan calls him Nathan, and he likes it that way. ”Sorry we interrupted – it’s great to finally meet you.” Nate leans in slightly, voice lowered to a stage whisper, and shoots Logan a defiant, mischievous look. "For the record, I thought it was funny."
They shake hands, firm and strong and without lingering, because that is how businessmen establish dominance and his wolf’s always liked that – Nathan figures a good handshake can get him far pretty much anywhere, and that Ben will be no exception to this rule. He does seem like the sort of guy who, were he not holding a baby in one arm, would crush Nate in a frighteningly masculine bear hug – and for once the man is thankful for the presence of a child. Ben’s broad palm alone makes Nate’s hand disappear in that massive grip.
”He’s said good only things, I promise. Mostly.” That smile grows wide, cheeky – crinkles the corners of his eyes. Logan’s good humor at being here, at being close to something like home, is infectious – and Ben’s warm-hearted decency demands nothing less in return. This is easy; this is manageable.
Nathan can do this.
Logan. said:
Benjamin gives a big grin – it’s reminiscent of Logan’s but a whole lot more manic. There is honest warmth and cheer in his eyes, like it’s always been there and will always be there. The giant of a man has that kind of disposition, that kind of aura. ”See, I told you it was funny,” he directs towards Logan, returns his attention to Nate. ”Good things, eh? I bet. Don’t you worry though, I’ve got plenty of good things to share about Logan. Y’know to return the favor,” Ben gives a winning smirk.
”Ben,” Logan says warningly because he wasn’t exactly the smartest, safest kid back then. There are so many damned regrettable experiences that seemed like a good idea at the time. Embarrassing things that undermine Logan’s whole ’I’m a seasoned professional, please feel free to swoon’ method of operation.
The sasquatch throws his free hand up in the air. ”I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t dare sully your reputation,” Ben gives a very obvious, impossible to miss, overly-exaggerated wink at Nathan. Logan sighs and shakes his head in defeat, moves to the back of the Subaru to get their luggage. ”Oi, let me put Aedan back in his cage and I’ll help you.” The baby starts to stick its fingers in Ben’s nose and mouth as if to emphasize the cage metaphor.
”We’ll be fine. We’re in my old room, yeah?” Logan flashes his brother a look from where he’s bent over into the car. Ben gives a nod of assent and seems to be fighting off a humored, devious expression. Logan misses the look on account of dragging one of the suitcases out.
”Yup, got the room all squared away. I’m gonna get myself and the monster cleaned up. Come down when you’re situated, okay?” Ben readjusts his grip on the now squirming toddler. ”Tantrum in-coming,”and, right on cue, the baby starts to fuss. Ben decides to take that moment and leave, to find his wife and unload the child on her because he is a good father, and an even better husband. ”It’s good to have you back home!” he declares from halfway up the driveway.
Logan pulls the second suitcase out and closes the back of the Subaru. ”He hasn’t changed at all,” he muses with a crooked smile. ”Come on.” Logan hoists his suitcase up, leaves Nathan to carry his own because while he’s strong – he’s not that strong, and his back has been acting up since the flight. Too much sitting.
Inside of the homestead, is a decidedly rustic and woodsy interior. The walls are wood, the floors wood. There are windows everywhere, allowing the sunlight to stream in and provide natural light. Various hunting trophies hang on the walls. Ducks, pheasants, ptarmigans, caribou. A dall sheep with a cap and sunglasses sitting on its head. Ben’s personal touch – Logan doesn’t remember that particular trophy having so much character before. He leads Nathan up the familiar flight of stairs that make that same damned creak on the same damned steps and somehow something so insignificant has his heart panging because he’s home.
He moves down to the end of a hall, reaches out, turns a knob and pushes a door open. There’s a queen-sized bed dressed up in appropriate lodge-styled bedding (the blanket has a fantastic salmon print). It is not the hugest of rooms, but it is doable. It looks like the typical guest quarters – or it would – if it wasn’t for the curious amount of pictures situated on the walls, the dresser. Everywhere. Logan sets his suitcase on the floor out of the way and starts to investigate.
On the walls – pictures of him when he was a child. Rail-thin dressed as a cowboy with Ben dressed as an Indian. The two of them naked in a tub. Him covered in mud and in only a pair of soaked tighty-whities, looking as pissed and ready for blood as an eight-year old kid might manage. Him in his boy scout uniform, grinning proudly while missing most of his front teeth. On the dresser, pictures from high school. Logan passed out on the couch, shirtless, clutching at a beer bottle like a child would a teddy bear. In his Eagle Scout uniform. Him sitting high on a tree branch –naked—with a moose lurking beneath (”I was treed by a moose, once”). Every embarrassing picture Logan can remember, there out for display.
The man, open-mouthed, pinches at the bridge of his nose.
”I’m going to kill him.” There’s no anger. He sounds more reluctantly amused than anything. He gets a little pink around the collar.
Logan wasn’t lying when he said Ben hadn’t changed at all.
Nate said:
Somewhere amongst the chatter and a flailing child Nathan slips in a goodbye – waves Ben off and picks up his bag from where Logan’s left it. He probably would have taken it as a slight had Logan carried it for him, anyhow. They make their way inside, Nathan lagging behind to take in the furniture and fixtures; it feels more like he’s stepped into someone’s idea of a lodge verses an actual house. Where people live. It manages to be charming despite that.
When they arrive, Nate drops his things to the bed – wincing at the comforter – and manages a stunned look around the room.
”I’ve decided I like Ben,” he begins, rolling his weight back on his heels as he absorbs the décor, not bothering to hide his smug grin. The furnishings – that blanket – leave a little to be desired, but the werewolf figures it’s just a necessary part of the required rustic charm (that may or may not border on creepy - the sheep with the hat helps). The rest of the room, though… it’s a veritable shrine to Logan’s youth, a rogue plot by a certain brother. ”He seems nice.” Nathan steps to the dresser, leaning over on one elbow as he peruses the collection of sordid photographs. He taps a finger on one – Logan naked, pinned up a tree – and turns to glance over his shoulder with a small, impish smirk, brows raised.
”I’m keeping this one.” And maybe a few others. Maybe ask Ben if he could just take an album – there’s too much enjoyable blackmail fodder here for Nate to just ignore, right? Or, in all actuality, simply take pleasure in, in connecting all those lost moments of Logan’s life that Nathan’s missed. That he is somehow profoundly jealous for having not known, for having not been there – irrational and petty as it is. There is an entire life spread before him, stories left untold; Nate thinks there should be pictures of the two of them here, next time.
”You’ll have to forgive me for not having a brother to tell you all my secrets.” In truth, most of the photos of his childhood are probably long lost – or forgotten under a bed somewhere, fading to dust in a locked suitcase. "I guess I'll just have to let some slip to make up for it." Nate grins; he steps away from the drawers and chances a quick glance at the open doorway before pulling Logan into him, fingers entwined in the hem of his jacket. A quick, chaste kiss is pressed to the corner of the man’s mouth, and Nathan lingers there, moving his head to rest his chin on Logan’s shoulder.
They have to go downstairs, he knows. They have to unpack and settle and meet the family, catch up or be introduced for the first time. But in this – in these few quick moments in Logan’s bedroom, comfortable and whole – Nathan sneaks in the moment alone while he can.
”Thanks for bringing me.”
Logan. said:
He can look at those pictures, he can see himself, young, bold, and stupid – and it all comes back to him. Back then, when the world was still new, still this thing he wanted to explore and conquer, Logan was reckless. Broken limbs, road rash, a ruined snowmobile, an ATV crashed against a tree. Reckless and angry, maybe, because at a tender age, a realization hit. He started to act out more, started to become a caricature of what he thought masculinity meant.
Fear was a spiked cage back then – move in any one direction and get cut. It wasn’t so much living a lie than it was living a half-truth, a frosted-glass approach to existence. Never transparent. Maybe there’s a lingering bitterness but mostly he sees those pictures and he remembers the good things. Nathan has allowed Logan this, a new freedom born from the optimism their partnership provides.
”If you and him start teaming up, I’m going into hiding,” Logan says with a burgeoning grin. He is glad that they have Ben; his brother has always been an ally, someone to reserve judgment, someone with a ridiculously open heart and mind. Logan cannot claim to know how the kids might react, how Jody, Ben’s wife, might view their relationship. He’s not afraid.
A hand grabs at his jacket and Logan does not bother fighting his smug expression. Nothing is more thrilling, more satisfying than knowing that someone like Nathan –handsome and desirable—is attracted to him. ”I’d like that,” he drawls with a lopsided smile. He knows that Nathan is a young runaway but beyond that, the man is a mystery. Whatever Nathan decides to share, Logan will take as a gift.
Arms wind around the werewolf’s back and Logan presses his mouth against his head of black hair. There’s a brief chuckle and what follows are words laced with the warmth of a grin. ”I figure you needed a break from Blackwater.” As nice as the people are, that town can be a circus. Logan has never felt more like the crotchety old man since moving there. He throws a look out the door then coaxes Nathan back.
The pair fall onto the bed and the mattress is revealed to have some particularly noisy springs. Logan briefly tries to recall how sound proof, if at all, the walls and floors are. Ben wants them to come down stairs but Logan figures they have a while yet before the sasquatch starts getting suspicious. It’s been a long flight, a long drive. His body isn’t as resilient to the woes of travel as it once was.
He’ll enjoy the reverie while it lasts.
An elbow besides Nathan’s head keeps Logan propped up. Their legs interlock, Logan idly brushes at Nathan’s hair. Their eyes meet briefly before he dips down for a lingering kiss. It’s easy comfort he can drink in at will; makes his bones feel a little less heavy, He pulls away, looks at the man below him thoughtfully.
”How are you feeling about all this?” Ben was easy – the man is a living, breathing teddy bear. There’s an entire roster of Duvall’s left to meet. Logan, himself, feels the familiar claw of anxiety worrying at his gut. He thinks about Nathan’s prescription, about the newness of this place. About the gravity of meeting Logan’s family – strangers. Nathan is important; it’s Logan’s job to worry.
It’s also his job to make sure that everything ends up alright.
Nate said:
”Could always use a break from Blackwater, but it’s just got this irresistible charm…” and something in Nathan’s voice implies that he’s not solely speaking of the town any longer. An adventurous, enterprising hand slides beneath Logan’s shirt, slipping to the man’s back as Nathan’s legs bump up to the foot of the bed; he sinks down onto the comforter, Logan pulled atop him.
”We shouldn’t take long,” he whispers, but it’s a protest without any sincerity, the passion not in his words but in his eyes; as though pointing out their defiance of the comment is a lecherous act in itself. The werewolf’s free hand busies itself with settling a firm grip on Logan’s collar, keeping his head close as they indulge in a languid kiss – the simple act of which calms his nerves, sets him at ease. Logan is just the right amount of familiar he needs amongst all this strangeness, a touch of home.
Nathan’s head drops back at the question; his fingers tic in shifting uncertainty on the fabric of Logan’s jacket, on his back.
”I’m handling it,” Nathan says, and though there’s conviction in the statement he can’t hold contact with those grey eyes. It’s a show of weakness he cannot abide but cannot ignore, to know the irrational fears and doubts that lurk inside him, the constant fret and disquiet that are the remains of a life left behind. A life broken. Though Logan has managed to repair it – forever the handyman – it embarrasses Nathan that those ghosts linger, fragile pieces of his mind that are forever unsettled. ”It’ll be alright.” It is frustrating; he wants to do better by Logan, by his efforts. The man deserves that much. More.
”I want to be here...” And this time it’s firm, honest, and Nathan matches Logan’s gaze. ”I just want everyone to like me, you know? To like us. This.” He squeezes the man in indication, and manages a wry smile as he speaks. He wants to impress Logan’s family; to be deemed worthy, to feel at home, no matter how inconsequential the need is. ”It’s a lot to take in all at once.” Nathan would prefer if it weren’t all so much, a constant parade of the new and the unknown, and instead something he could wade into slowly – but he understands it cannot be. An anxiety disorder that once was crippling is at least kept well in hand.
He might not ever be the man who can take straightforward, worry free vacations again – even without all these familial obligations – but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t like to try.
”You seem happy to be back,” Nate murmurs, an inquisitive slant to the statement that begs for elaboration. He shifts the hand at Logan’s neck; his thumb traces the edge of where the hunter’s beard meets his cheek, eyes half-lidded in renewed comfort, in subtle curiosity. This isn’t just a burden, however easily shouldered for love, that is borne by the werewolf alone; it is a yoke shared, and one that can’t be without complication for Logan, either. ”You holding up?”
Because despite the man’s masculine front (however honest), they are in love and they are open and they can share feelings – ones Nathan cares so deeply about that the thought of Logan hurting pains him inside. He just needs the next two weeks to be okay.
Logan. said:
”Yeah,” Logan breathes out in tepid acknowledgement. Nathan radiates warmth beneath him; tempting and relaxing. Ben is downstairs likely rounding up the children as best as he might manage. There are introductions to be made, catching up to do. ”They can wait.” Logan finds that though he is looking forward to patching old bridges, he at the moment, is more inclined to lay there and relax.
The hunter, for all his ready laziness, has that familiar sharp look in his eyes when Nathan gives his explanation. This can’t be easy, he knows, and he is grateful that Nathan agreed to come. Logan would not have been able to find the courage to make the trip home, had the werewolf refused. There’s a furrow in his brow, the slight dip of a frown. He wishes this was easier. ”You don’t fret. If there’s one thing this family knows, it’s how to be polite.” It’s the most honest comfort he can give. They may not be met with open arms by everyone, but he’s damn sure they won’t be ostracized, either.
”If it ever gets to be too much, we’ll head out. ” Logan came here knowing that they might have to cut their visit short. He’s trying to establish a level of comfort, security. ”And if you even think about feeling guilty about anything, I’ll make you regret it,” he says with an encouraging and tragically, an innately salacious smirk.
The conversation shifts, his smirk falters. Logan turns a thoughtful look into a sheepish grin. ”Once an Alaska boy, always an Alaska boy.” It is a light statement, one that does not give credence to his history, to the regret surrounding his father. He’s been working to put those sentiments behind him. ”I’m dealing,” he breaches a more honest answer. ”Feels the same, but different, you know? Hell, we’ll be fine once we get settled.” He’s optimistic enough to be sure of this. ”I’ll need to show—“ A distinct thump and a muttered ‘ow’ catches his attention. Logan shifts on the bed, turns his head towards the open door.
A young boy – around the age of eight—slides into view. His hands are carefully clapped over his eyes.
Logan spares Nathan a questioning glance before addressing the kid. ”Son, why are you covering your eyes?” He thinks he might know.
The boy startles, breathes in and says in one go, ”Dad told me to do it, I dunno why, he told me to ask if you were decent, or something, I guess.”
The mattress creaks as Logan shifts until he’s sitting at the edge. He stifles the urge to roll his eyes. ”Yeah, we’re decent,” he says in an exasperated, if amused tone. The boy’s hands fall away and he looks between the two men.
”He said to tell you to come downstairs because, I dunno, but I get a dollar so are you coming.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot, nervous and energetic. Logan has never met him, but he’s seen pictures. Adrian.
There’s a chuckle and a burgeoning smile. ”Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your dollar.” Bribery is apparently a parenting tactic, he thinks it figures. Adrian sort of hops and then races noisily down the hall and stairs. Logan shakes his head, stands and offers Nathan a hand up. ”Time to meet the natives.”
Downstairs, the family is gathered in the living room. The introductions to the children go as uneventful as possible. Jessica is a high-school aged girl too busy texting on her phone to really be interested. Skylar is a morose, angst-loving teenager plastered to the side of the couch. He doesn’t make eye contact, wears all black and chains, reminds Logan of a sad clown. Adrian is the most chatty but is quickly distracted by the toddler, Aedan’s, antics of trying to bite his brothers arms.
Jody, Ben’s wife, for her part is quiet and attentive on the recliner. Ben stands in the middle, hands on his hips, sends a look over his brood. He throws up his hands in defeat, ”Alright, alright, you can go back into your caves,” he says and the children seize the opportunity to disperse, ”I swear, it’s like trying to herd cats.” He turns his attention to Logan and Nathan. ”You two, sit your asses down so we can do adult things like talk,” the man in the rainbow suspenders declares.
Logan obliges, takes a seat at the sofa and watches Nathan until the man joins him. ”Ah. Jody, this is Nathan – Nate.” The woman gives a polite smile, a gentle ‘hello.’ Ben all but collapses onto a rocking chair. There’s the distinct chance for an awkward silence to make its appearance; both brothers open their mouths to save the moment, Ben wins out.
”So! How did you two meet?” Ben’s ridiculous grin is enough to dispel any tension.
The elder Duvall brother falls quiet. He remembers that day on the interstate. The diner, the hotel room. A year later, crossing paths. Shooting Nathan. The drug incident, the shower. Soaked pants and boots. Their story has never followed specific, known tropes. A patchwork of odd incidents, harbored feelings. He covers his forehead with a hand, sighs, smiles hopelessly.
”…That bad?” Ben is watching his brother, the first inkling of confusion writing into the lines of his face. He’s probably expecting something embarrassing, something Logan is reluctant to share.
Logan shakes his head. ”No, not at all, it’s just…” Impossible to explain. Logan, at a loss for words, sends a look toward Nathan.
Nate said:
Logan is soothing, a recognizable slice of reason and routine amongst all the tumultuous chaos; the center about which Nathan spins. If he can manage all those easy, impish smirks and attractive grins, then the werewolf can at least do his best to relax – to emulate him, nervous excitement and all. To believe things are fine; or that it’s not the end of the world if they’re not. That, either way, Logan has his back.
Because they are on vacation and Nate is goddamn determined to enjoy it.
The first devious traces of the thought that he would like to test just how patient Ben can be is interrupted by the awkward yammering of a small child – one who has wisely heeded his father’s instructions to cover his eyes. No matter their current state of decency and dress, it’s embarrassing; not what the werewolf had wanted to be caught doing in his first five minutes of arriving. Nathan sits up too suddenly – cracks his head on Logan’s jaw – and is wincing with one eye squinted as the other man moves off him, rises. He seconds the motion with a few creaking bedsprings and a cough, before busying himself with straightening his shirt. Adrian invites them downstairs.
They yield; save drinking in mutual comfort and vague indecency for another time.
The children – nieces, nephews – are as uninterested as he would have been at that age, and Nathan doesn’t fault them for it. He stumbles through the introductions with practiced ease and polite formality, knowing the time for honesty will come later, if at all. It’s his job to simply play the game, to place names to faces and save conversation for when it arises – to fill the voids with banal pleasantries.
Still, the werewolf is relieved when the kids make their exit, likely as much as they are. Sighing, Nathan settles to the couch, pulls a lopsided smile and a spread-fingered wave towards Jody (largely in lieu of having to say anything), and shifts as close to Logan as he can muster without feeling clingy. The hunter’s eyes fall on him, and he doesn’t hesitate, though he does seem slyly amused at Logan’s helplessness.
”Logan was hitchhiking, out in Nevada,” Nathan begins – because that seems like the safest place to start, at least in terms of avoiding awkward tidbits like getting shot or unrequited lust (or way-the-hell-requited lust). ”I was heading out of Vegas, someone had trashed his truck—” he adds, by way of clarification. Stores are not his strong suit, but talking about Logan just might be – he seems to be enjoying it, defining their relationship for the first time. ”We hit it off. I guess it was some sort of coincidence that we met up again in Blackwater.” The man doesn’t believe in fate, nor anything like it, but their serendipitous encounters do have a certain feel of divine intervention; he shrugs, ends the tale with a pair of wide-spread hands.
Nate glances at Logan out of the corner of his eyes; he’s hiding a smirk by the time he’s done explaining. ”That was a year later. Got lucky, I guess.” And they had. So much so that Nathan doesn’t like thinking about it, sometimes, for fear it will all come apart at the seams; as though it’s only fragile threads of sleep holding a dream together.
Logan’s presence at his side – real and solid – says otherwise.
”What about you both? Been together a while, then?” Long enough to pop out children that are more than half Nathan’s age – a strange thought. Ben can’t be more than a few years older than him – at 32 would have already had, what, five of them? Nate rubs his thumb against the back of his fingertips; the thought makes him strangely uncomfortable. He can’t wrap his brain around himself being in the same position. Their worlds are too different, and he has never been a six-kids kind of guy. An any-kids kind of guy.
”You met up here?” Nate figures that finding a compatible life partner in Alaska must be like getting pandas to mate – and that sounds far more interesting than continuing to stumble through explanations of their strange and licentious courtship.
Logan. said:
Logan, along with Ben and Jody, takes to listening as Nathan explains. The hunter has collected a good number of strange hitchhiking related stories but none of them shine quite so brightly within his memory. That day in the desert riding companionable in a power blue chariot, stuck with Logan long after they had parted ways, and before he even realized the importance of their encounter. Foreshadowing of good things to come, of a monumental change seeded and ready to bud.
The hunter knows he hit the universal jackpot, a stroke of fortune that he, to this day, cannot wrap his mind around.
He sends an affectionate, if coy smile over to Nathan, lets his eyes wander over the werewolf’s features. The oldest Duvall son is making himself out to be a lovesick fool and Ben catches onto this, watches his brother with a burgeoning smirk. A sublime series of events, of choices, led Logan to the interstate, to Blackwater, and back home with Nathan in tow. Logan, like Nathan, does not believe in fate or destiny, but he has his superstitions, like any sailor worth his salt. He figures the tattoo he got over his heart on his eighteenth birthday finally started to live up to its purpose.
”You picked up his hitchhiking ass? I would’ve left him out on the highway,” Ben says in jest. The two brothers share a look in which Logan casts the younger a withering glare. The sasquatch chuckles amusedly because this is familiar footing – harkens back to two young boys taking constant digs at one another. Life has pushed forward, Ben has an army of children, and Logan has apparently finally settled down. But for as much as things have changed, some things remain the same. Things like brotherhood. ”Thanks, Ben, good to know you have my back,” Logan says with a lopsided smile. He wants to make it clear that his ‘thing’ with Nathan isn’t a fling but the conversation shifts to the man and woman of the house.
”Shoot. We’re going on twenty-five years now?” Ben looks to Jody and she nods her head with a raised brow. It is Jody who picks up the explanation. ” Nearly. We met in church when we were children. Our families have attended the same one for generations.” There’s a false warmth to her voice, like a hostess paid for the job. She looks directly at Logan. ”Logan used to be a choir boy.” Jody is a devout woman, this much Logan knows, but this isn’t the place to take offense, to jump to conclusions.
”Yeah, but then my balls dropped,” he replies wearing a roguish grin. Ben laughs and Jody rolls her eyes, shakes her head, but Logan thinks she’s trying to hide a smile. There is a rigidness to Jody that won’t quite dislodge. Ben looks between them and his expression seems quietly apologetic. ”I wasn’t much of a choir boy, anyway, what with how much trouble I got into.” The edge of humor dulls and Logan is starting to wish Ben was the only one, other than Nathan, in the room.
The universe takes pity in the form of a loud crash and an immediate yell of I didn’t do it in what Logan recognizes as Skylar’s voice. Ben is up on his feet. ”I gotta go handle my chimpanzee of a son, we’ll talk some more later. Hell, we got all the time in the world.” His grin is bright and disarming, despite the impending fatherly stern look preparing in his eyes. He pats Nathan hard on the shoulder with one of his massive hands – it’s meant to be comforting. Jody sits across from them, busies herself with playing with the sleeve of her shirt. The moment bleeds awkward and Logan is hit with the need to laugh but he stifles it.
”I should get dinner started,” Jody says when the weirdness grows to be too much. She gives a polite smile and heads towards the kitchen.
Nathan and Logan are left alone in the living room and the hunter sends a look towards the ceiling. All things considered, the return home is going well. Jody might have her inhibitions but Ben would not have invited him here if atmosphere was not friendly. He slides grey eyes over to Nathan, plops a hand high on the man’s thigh and gives a solid squeeze. ”Come on, let me show you the lake.” He could do with some fresh air, a few moments away from the house and the people inside of it.
The hunter takes to leading them around the shore. Calling the expanse of water a lake is being generous. It’s more an overly large pond, if anything. Logan remains comfortably quiet, hands tucked into his pockets as he takes in the familiar sights and smells. He spares a glance towards the werewolf, reaches out and encircles an arm around his shoulders. Logan presses a lingering kiss against Nathan’s temple. ”Sorry if that got a little awkward.” Meeting the in-laws is a universal headache of a process.
”Don’t worry about Jody. She just doesn’t really understand...” he gestures between them with a wave of his fingers, ”…this.” Logan is not sure what to label them. Boyfriends, partners. Mates. He hopes the woman will adjust over time for her sake and theirs. Logan starts to watching Nathan and tries to get a handle on how he’s feeling. Worrying about the werewolf is second nature now.
”Ben likes you.” A proactively won victory because Ben pretty much likes everyone, but it’s something.
