Post by ♥ Nathan ♥ on Jun 5, 2012 19:44:36 GMT -5
Nathan said:
Worries bleed away with every rising sun.
The night of the attack on Blackwater is a fresh and open wound, one Nathan has carefully masked behind a layer of action and duty; he has treated the injuries on his arms in a similar manner, distancing himself through obligation, through routine. It gets easier. Though sleep is fleeting and nights are spent more in silent observation than the comfort of slumber, the two men know the road to recovery, and Nathan does his part to get them there; it is a role driven by hope, by a building excitement, by the prospect of a future. The fruits of his labors arrive first in the form of a sleek black car idling outside the little yellow house – a building wounded, but patched together – and as dawn breaks on a frozen winter morning, Nathan and Logan take the first steps to leaving Blackwater behind.
Aysun, strange system of support that he is, allows the werewolf to let go. Though he no longer takes responsibility for the day-to-day of the small town, or even the contents of the house he once called home, selling the property and finding a new place to live are very real, very important concerns – ones that Nathan now has the benefit of overseeing, rather than directly involving himself in. Trust for the unfamiliar man is a thing only tentatively given, but his actions that night they lay bleeding and broken allowed some modicum of faith to be extended; enough for Nathan to leap at the opportunity to leave sooner, to leave now. Aysun has specific instructs and a detailed list, and little real power outside of acting as Nate’s eyes and ears.
They board Lark. She is the last thing of value Nate has left in that town, and he will see her safe.
The seven AM flight had been the first he could book outside the window they’d needed to settle their immediate affairs, and though Nathan is not typically an early riser, he finds the hour worth it; the seats are half empty, and there are no screaming children. As Tennessee falls away beneath their feet, so too do the last shreds of the man’s lingering unease, cast away in rolling hillsides and disappearing stretches of farmland. Nathan sleeps, then, quiet and dreamless, head on Logan’s shoulder and the hunter’s hand in his.
He awakes into a world half-remembered, a place of familiarity that has waned with time and distance. It’s been years since Nathan last visited New York, and the man no longer draws comfort from an endless ocean of brick and cold concrete, but it’s with a giddy sense of excitement that he leads them through the airport. They find their bags, and outside the terminal they are greeted by a wash of winter sunshine and a scene of slush and ice – and a small man in a suit with a paper sign that reads “Duvall.” Nathan meets Logan’s eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. Surprise two.
Queens rushes by around them, all mortar and stone and low apartment complexes, and far head, across the water, looms the imposing and iconic Manhattan skyline. It is a short trip to the City Clerk’s office, where Nathan is anxious to get the paperwork underway – the official start to their twenty-four hour wait, their own miniature vacation, a span of time the werewolf thinks can’t end soon enough. There are more surprises in the wings, he knows; things aimed to distract them, to indulge in, to make this weekend special. These are the most important plans the man has ever made, and he needs them to be perfect.
The driver engages them in conversation, and when he asks them why they’re visiting, Nathan’s response is immediate – and spoken with a lopsided, proud grin.
”Came to get married.”
The cabby only laughs – and offers them his warm congratulations. Nathan ducks his head sheepishly and runs a hand through his hair, watching Logan out of the corner of his eye. He reaches out, thankful for the benefit of a driver, and takes the hunter’s hand in both his own; the bold smile he’s been wearing since exiting their plane still sits comfortably, naturally, upon his features, a thing that harbors no memories of Blackwater. An expression that will not be deterred by long-standing habits of worry.
”Welcome to New York,” Nathan says simply, and squeezes Logan’s hand. ”I wanted to go get the paperwork out of the way – so we don’t have to wait. We can grab lunch after, if you wanted – we can’t check in until four.” The man’s been adamant about keeping the location of their stay a secret, and the thought of that reveal has something in him thrumming. ”...maybe do some sightseeing. Is there any place you wanna go?” He has his backup plans, a loose agenda, should the hunter prove ambivalent, but he’ll take the hunter anywhere if he has a preference.
Anything, everything, with Logan beside him.
Logan said:
It still stings to think about it – the night when phantoms materialized in droves of gnashing teeth and bristling fur, and viciously turned the world on its head. But it is a dull ache, one that fades with each passing day because Logan still has Nathan, and Nathan is what matters. Wounds heal and spirits mend under the light of an oncoming fresh start-- a new and vibrant chapter to their shared lives. The last wispy threads of sentiment binding the hunter to Blackwater finally dissolve during the dawn’s light of a special morning. Their suitcases are packed, their affairs in order, and as Logan totes his luggage towards the waiting car, something within him slides into place, clicks, and he knows they have made the right decision.
Leaving has never felt so good.
Paranoia is a concept Logan willingly leaves behind. He sheds it as an old and brittle skin, leaves it to fester in Blackwater where it was born, where it was necessary. Where he and Nathan are headed, there is no room for suspicions or dark, dreary feelings. The thought of the future binds Logan into a state of comfort and excitement, because for an important capsule of time, the world is theirs – his and Nathan’s—to share and explore. There will be no one else to consider. There will be no responsibilities to juggle and power through until rendered exhausted. Nathan will be free to enjoy his deserved respite and Logan will greedily take in every brilliant moment.
Early mornings are nothing new and with the prospect of New York waiting on the other end, Logan is struck wide awake with no inclinations towards slumber. His nerves are electric with excitement and there is no other incident in his life that he can recall such a state of emotional vertigo. Marriage is something he has considered only once before, and that was a potential proposal born from a sense of obligation and fear. The road opened up and swallowed the hunter whole, and for the better part of twenty years, he was adrift in a sea of bitter regret and worthlessness. Logan is not one given to fanciful thoughts of destiny and fate, but as he watches the sleeping face of his soon to be husband, he is grateful for whatever benevolent force that might be out there.
Happiness, before Nathan, had never been so sweet, all-encompassing and complete.
The hours of the flight pass with the low hum of conversation and with Logan lost in his own thoughts. New York is a city Logan has passed through fleetingly. His is a rural soul bred for forests of green and wilderness, not grey brick and metropolis, but he finds the city beautiful regardless for what it offers – for what it will eventually stand for in his and Nathan’s story. The hunter falls into step with the werewolf and as they exit the airport, his attention immediately catches on the sign. His last name, the name that Nathan will soon share, beckons them over. The smile that follows is a natural reaction and impossible to contain.
New York is an impressive sight and as the buildings pass and grown into view, Logan is struck by how large the city is. Anchorage seems like a child’s play-set in comparison. There is a sense of boyish awe that settles over him and Logan takes to staring out of the window and absorbing all of the sights. Nathan and the driver have their exchange and the hunter finds himself grinning widely because they are here to get married. Grey eyes slide over to regard Nathan with an hopelessly affectionate look and Logan looks down briefly and their clasped hands.
”You and your paperwork,” he jests lightly before offering an accommodating smile. ”The sooner the better,” Logan agrees because he remains committed to the mantra of no more waiting. There are hoops to jump through, preliminary affairs to get settled, and while Logan loathes everything related with paperwork and bureaucracy, this is an exception. Nathan offers his suggestions and the hunter mulls them over while the beginnings of a sheepish smile tugs at his lips.
”Nathan—sweetheart,“ he ducks his chin in an airy chuckle, shakes his head and draws a hand over his short, wheat-blonde hair. Logan leans back into the seat and looks at the werewolf with clear, if self-deprecating, mirth in his eyes. ”Unless you want me to make us out to be a pair of lame tourists, you better take the reins on this.” Logan knows New York as the Statue of Liberty, as Central Park and Times Square. His fingers squeeze Nathan’s hand and Logan tosses the man an impish smirk. ”Though, I do want to see what this whole’ New York pizza’ thing is about,” he admits as a suggestion.
They could spend the day wandering the tourists traps and Logan would be happy. They could spend the day exploring the native favorites and Logan would be happy. As long as Nathan is there with him, Logan is open to anything the werewolf might choose. ”What’s a person even do here during the Winter?” It is a legitimate question from a man with little experience with a sprawling city, and his curiosity is honest.
Nathan said:
City life was once a simple thing for Nathan, a story of absolutes and certainties he’d taken for granted. An entire universe exists within the limits of such a sprawling expanse, one in which an existence could consist of little more than three blocks and a few hundred square feet of living space – and yet somehow still find satisfaction, never reaching the outer boundaries of that small world, never trying. Could still manage a sense of discovery, and there was a time when that was enough. Yet Nathan has given up the urban jungle and come to loathe that high-walled confinement which once seemed like freedom – it a space he has outgrown, a jagged thing abandoned for a wilderness without lines or limits – and since meeting Logan, he has yet to look back. The man makes simple joys – a little rural house, a good day’s work, the sight of an endless treeline – the most honest ones, the ones most appreciated.
And he finds he wants life no other way.
The past two years have aged Nathan more than the simple passage of days should have allowed – but here, happy, whole, and in the company of the man he loves, the creases smooth away. There are new scars that mark both of them, ones that have tried to worm their way into their hearts, their minds, and yet so long as he has Logan they will only ever be skin deep. That they have no true home to return to is, for once, strangely liberating – that he and Logan can live in these easy moments, free of responsibility, as though they might last forever in an indolent daydream. Nathan could certainly be happy with that. A mind prone to planning and micromanagement is washed clean in the power of Logan’s tide, and the werewolf needs nothing else.
He laughs, an easy sound, and leans away to rest back up against the seat, eyes following the stuttered passing of buildings outside. ”I don’t think any amount of supposed city secrets is going to stop us being a pair of lame tourists, Logan.” He’s rather fond of that thought – it’s horribly, painfully charming. The fact that he has plans to support that notion, should Logan prove willing, only leaves him smirking wider. ”But pizza? I can find you pizza. I’ll get you the best goddamn pizza in the city.” Ideas for the day spread out before him, crystallized and growing certain.
”Everything,” Nathan explains, mockingly serious. New York is a city, after all – the weather hasn’t slowed it, and the outdoor activities that would otherwise be open to them only represent a small portion of what the metropolis offers. And of course, winter brings with it its own opportunities – ones that leave the werewolf feeling devious with his undisclosed agenda. ”The tree’s still up, the big Christmas tree, in Rockefeller. We can start there after lunch.” And then open the door for any number of other activities – Central Park is around the corner, with all its strangely private magic and irresistibly tacky horse-drawn carriages, and the werewolf likes the idea of finding peace amongst the city there. ”It’s near the hotel, too,” he lets slip, teasing, ”in case you get bored.” And the light in Nathan’s eyes has nothing to do with boredom, and everything to do with the chant in his head that’s already encouraging him to keep his hands to himself.
The Williamsburg Bridge passes by beneath them, and far below it, the waters of the East River churns floes and chunks of melting ice towards the ocean. They slide into and amongst the working class neighborhoods of Manhattan, a far cry from the slick modern city center that awaits them later in the day; the City Clerk’s office itself is a squat and official-looking building, all stonework and ornate gilded doors, and as the car pulls up in front of the granite steps Nathan’s heart clutches and stumbles. This is nothing but a preliminary step, a necessary gesture of endless signed names and verifying identification – but it clings. It resonates with an exquisite correctness. The man swallows and wets his lips as he turns from the window, and catches those grey eyes with his own.
”The car’s ours for the day, so don’t worry about the bags.” It's explanatory; avoidant. A method of keeping the ridiculous excitement from his voice by focusing on the mundane. As though prompted, the driver waves at them in acknowledgement from the front seat, flicking his gaze up to the rearview mirror with a knowing sort of glint, and Nate decides he likes him. ”You ready?” The look in the werewolf’s eyes is open, earnest, nervous – but with the most brilliant form of anticipation, a feeling that sets him unwound and frayed in ways that only Logan leaves him. His smile is reserved; inviting.
And when Logan says yes, they’ll ascend the steps together.
Logan said:
”Fair enough,” Logan drawls warmly and willingly surrenders to whatever the day might hold. ”We could always load up on cheesy souvenirs and send them to Ben,” he adds with a lopsided smirk. Knowing his brother, and much to Jody’s dismay, the cheap collection of New York-themed baubles would find their special place within the old family home. The thought leaves the hunter with a glowing feeling because tomorrow, Nathan will be able to call Ben family, too. There will be nieces and nephews, and there will be Logan’s mother accepting and grateful for the man that made her son stop running, the man that helped her son find lasting happiness.
He breathes out a rush of amused air and wears a content smile as he watches the city speed past. ”I’d like that,” he agrees though Logan is not difficult to please. The two men could spend the day doing anything from the seemingly mundane to the reckless and the hunter would be happy. He has what he needs and wants sitting right next to him, everything else is just, as they say, the icing on the cake. Clever grey eyes shift to regard the werewolf with a knowing and playful look. ”If the check-in wasn’t so late, we’d be there right now.” It is only a minor exaggeration and they both know it.
New York is as different a place from Logan’s typical environments that he might imagine. Though he loves his peace and quiet, and the solitary life that he and Nathan eked out in Tennessee, there is something to be said for a change in scenery and a change of pace. The more he acclimates to the idea of New York, the more the events in Blackwater feel like a muted, television-static memory. There is a wealth of tragedy and hurt behind them and it will stay behind them. The future is theirs and though perhaps it is a late start on something so important, Logan is captivated by the concept of partnership and home – til’ death do them part.
”Just how much money are you spending on me,” comes Logan’s measured response. A thoughtful look moves over the werewolf and the hunter is bit by his first inkling of suspicion. A car, complete with chauffer, could not have come cheaply and Logan wonders just what else Nathan might have waiting up his sleeve. ”Best not break the bank before the honeymoon,” the hunter admonishes lightly, though he is intimidated by the prospect of how much Nathan might spoil him. The City Clerk’s office awaits and Logan glances at the building, nervous, before delivering a level gaze onto the werewolf. ”You know what they say about us Duvalls,” Nathan is included in the count now, ”--we were born ready.”
No more waiting. The two men walk up the stairs and enter into the office. They are greeted by the desk clerk and state their intentions. The appropriate paperwork is handed to the men and they set about filling out their information. If Logan’s handwriting is a little messier than normal, it is due to the electricity in his nerves. Doubt does not exist here, but excitement does. Though a mundane task, filling out the forms is the first step towards legal affirmation of his and Nathan’s relationship. He finds himself periodically stealing glances at Nathan, like a kid trying to borrow answers for a test. It is all giddiness, all good-spirited emotion. ”Y’know, Ben’s going to be sore about this.” The brothers spoke shortly after Nathan’s proposal and Ben had immediately suggested an extravagant party in Denali. ”He’ll get over it, but we should make nice and send pictures.” Logan signs his name at the bottom, looks over the form and confirms the information as correct.
They hand in the paperwork, the clerk sets to processing it and the men talk about New York and family. Logan proposes a visit to Alaska when it is possible because he knows Ben, and Ben won’t leave them alone until they give in and drop by. The attendant turns to them with a kind smile and holds out a slip of paper, asks them to confirm everything. When they do, the man gives his congratulations and Logan offers his thanks. The hunter sticks his hands into his pants pockets, turns to Nathan and grins boyishly. ”So, twenty-four hours, huh?” He playfully bumps their shoulders and says, ”I wonder what we could do to fill the time.” It is back to innuendo but Logan is walking backwards towards the door, towards New York and the rest of the day.
”Come on, Nathan, there’s a huge goddamned tree that I’m supposed to be looking at,” he cajoles while wearing a roguish smirk. His chest feels like it might burst and Logan thinks he might give into random laughing fits at any given moment, but it is all good. Great, even.
Twenty-four hours cannot come soon enough, but they have their ways of making time move quickly.
Nathan said:
”Not enough,” he replies smoothly – and steals a fleeting kiss before slipping out of the car. Nathan slams the door behind them and wraps an arm around Logan’s as they head inside. ”But trust me, you wanna stay past tomorrow, you’re gonna have to deal with taxis.” A car seemed like the logical option, considering their lack of plans or timeframe – particularly when combined with his hatred of driving in the city. The fact that the werewolf has come to relish any opportunity to spoil Logan doesn’t hurt, either; Nathan has money to burn and the man he’s engaged to – the man he’s marrying – to spend it on, and hell if he isn’t going to take advantage of that chance.
He needs these days, these memories, to burn away the blackness they’ve left behind them, because he wants none of those fears to adulterate this. Because after this weekend that life will no longer matter; something new, something greater, will have taken its place. That both he and Logan would be content regardless is irrelevant, because the spirit of giving is not born out of contentment, and he will not restrain himself with a thing like practicality. Call it an exercise in denial, call it materialistic – Nathan just calls it love.
The werewolf skims through the paperwork, scrawling in his signature where applicable – he is restless, fidgeting with the knowledge that this is the last time he will even use that name. The final page cements that decision in ink and law, where he prints a firm, legible Nathaniel Duvall – and makes a show of letting Logan see when he peeks. ”I think Ben’ll understand,” he offers with a shrug as he turns in the form. Ben is family but Logan and Nathan are, by nature and practice, private men; the werewolf is, in fact, enamored with their sudden decision to elope. It suits them better than any ceremony, any party, ever could – because Nate is nothing if not possessive, and part of him enjoys sharing this with Logan alone. ”Pretty sure I remembered the camera, though. I guess we can send him something.” His dismissive tone is a joke, one he smirks through, because he’d bought the ridiculous camera for the trip alone (’our wedding is not going to be commemorated for eternity on a goddamn cell phone or a disposable Kodak’), and there is no chance of him letting Logan in a suit pass him by without memorializing it on film. He certainly won’t begrudge Ben the same notion.
They finalize the paperwork, and Nathan agrees to vague commitments to visit Alaska – and all of Ben’s horde – with only a playful amount of stubbornness. The truth is he’d happily show Logan off to anyone and everyone, and there is a comfortable warmth that settles in him when he thinks of returning to that old home as family. The clerk returns them their license and Nate clutches the paper like a lifeline, the anxious tremor in his fingers abated only by the low chuckle Logan’s actions entice from him – he chases after the man with an affectionately grumbled comment about exactly what Logan can do with huge goddamn trees. Hands clasped tightly, they return to the car together.
The various drives, the hours, slide by in a whirl. Nathan makes good on his promise of pizza – he takes Logan to Little Italy, to Lombardi’s, which a furtive search on his phone described as ’world famous.’ But their driver had confirmed it as worth a stop, and that’s all the vote it needed. Nate is pretty sure pizza is pizza, no matter how much you spend, but it’s a weekend for decadence and excess – and so he eats his weight in flour and cheese, and declares the money well spent. The longer trip that follows, made easier with their hunger now satisfied, is filled with lazy and affectionate chatter, simple and quiet moments spent close. They are deposited, at last, in the center of Manhattan, and Nathan leads Logan forward; above them looms towering, sleek skyscrapers, and just ahead the street opens into the bustling, wide expanse of Rockefeller Plaza.
”Not so bad, yeah?” Nathan fixes the hunter with a sly, appraising look, nodding towards the brightly lit tree they approach. ”Bigger than ours, even if it nearly crushed you. Where’s my giant tree, huh?” And he jostles Logan with his shoulder, laughing. He allows them to linger, surrounded by the sights and sounds of a holiday since past – of a nostalgic memory Nathan is more than willing to let resurface – and the werewolf shifts in close, an arm about Logan’s waist. Subtle steps guide them to the side of the lowered concourse; beneath them, the little seasonal ice skating rink is in full swing, and Nathan’s smirk grows as the gears in his head turn.
”C’mon,” he encourages, sudden and sure. He shifts back from the banister and tugs Logan with him by his arm, leading him down a nearby flight of steps. ”I’m taking you ice skating.” There is no room for argument or protest – Nathan will see the man out on the ice, and he will do it with a laugh and a grin. It is only when Logan is laced up and committed that the aforementioned camera will be drawn surreptitiously from the depths of the werewolf’s coat, and any begrudging air will be met with only a coaxing, mischievous smile. Because Nathan’s decided he needs this image to last, fixed on film and tucked in his wallet – and really, what better photo could there be to ’make nice’ with Ben?
Logan said:
A year ago Logan was a burnt out man at the age of forty-three. He felt old, too old, and remarkably tired. Life was about perseverance, about the dwindling hope that he would somehow manage to find something better, to find something that mattered. On a winding, dusty interstate, his answer (though he did not know it at the time) arrived in a power blue, rusting chariot. It is a sequence of events that the hunter will never be able to wrap his mind around, but will forever be grateful for. From a brief encounter in the desert states, to a trial by fire in Tennessee, to Alaska, and back again. It has been a journey, though at times painful, brilliant and worthwhile. Now he and the man that has wholly stolen his heart are in New York biding the last twenty-four hours before their marriage. Soon Nathaniel Hart will be Nathaniel Duvall, and Logan cannot begin to articulate the level of joy that brings him.
Lunch is not the life-altering experience the media and hearsay have made it out to be, but the pizza is good, and the company perfect. Logan claims he could do it better, but it is a claim he makes at every restaurant. He eats as he usually does – as if the man is harboring a voracious animal in the pit of his stomach and it does not take long at all to clear the table. Logan is in a state of blissful satisfaction once they begin their adventure anew. He relaxes into the car seat, basks in the comfort of chatter and if he was not so wired from everything, this is where the man would slip into a nap. There will be no sleeping; the hunter’s eyes are wide and attentive, taking in the sights as they pass with honest curiosity. He will not – cannot—miss a moment of this.
The car rolls to a halt, the chauffer gives another round of well-wishes, and Nathan eagerly leads the hunter through Manhattan. Logan has the magnificently intelligent thought of, gee, there sure are a lot of people here because New York is bustling with activity even now. Crowds are something Logan typically avoids but he has eyes only for Nathan, the rest of the people fall into the background, and become nothing more than theatre props. ”Yep. That there is a pretty goddamned big tree,” Logan shoots back with an impish smirk. The sight is impressive and despite his playfully sarcastic tone, Logan thinks it is kind of beautiful, too. Nathan pushes at his shoulder and Logan affords the werewolf a telling grin. ”Waiting for you in the hotel room,” It is a less school-boy way of saying in my pants. Logan chuckles and easily falls into step with Nathan.
”Ice skating?” His voice comes careful, unsure, because it has been years since Logan has been out on the ice. Nathan delivers the hunter a smile and Logan knows that there is no way he could deny this man anything. ”I guess I could stand to work off that pizza --wouldn’t want to wake up too fat for my suit.” They rent their pair of skates and Logan sets to lacing his tight. He looks up, catches the eye of a camera pointed straight at him and is caught mid-mischievous smile. ”Give that here,” he wiggles the fingers of his outstretched hand expectantly, ”And sit your ass down.” Once obliged, Logan sets to tying Nathan’s laces for him, making sure they are tight and snug, and not at all allowing for potential injury.
He rises slowly, carefully, and takes Nathan by the hand. ”If we end up missing our wedding because of a trip to the hospital, I’m blaming you,” he jests as he leads them into the rink. Logan lingers near the border, gripping at it firmly with one hand while he stares at the ice like it might be made of acid. He draws in a breath, flashes Nathan a sly look, and pushes forward and sails a small distance. Logan makes an easy turn and faces Nathan with a smug smirk – he’s done this before, he played hockey in his youth. ”Just like riding a bike,” Logan declares – then promptly loses balance and falls onto his ass. ”Or not,” he adds through chuckle. ”Help me up.” And when Nathan tries to help, they both end up on the ice in a tangle limbs, and Logan is made useless through laughter.
The pair find their footing and Logan’s hands settle at Nathan’s sides. A few residual chuckles break out of the man but he falls silent, takes to watching Nathan in that way of his, like the werewolf poses all the questions while simultaneously holding all of the answers. Their breath turns to mist between them, children and adults skate gracefully past, and under a New York winter’s sky, Logan leans forward and kisses Nathan.
Nathan said:
Nathan doesn’t think he’s ever smiled so hard; ever felt so prone to laughter, to outbursts of emotion that can’t stay settled in his chest. Back in Tennessee, in a town that is not home, events of the last four months had spiraled out of control with no center to the chaos – no lifeline, no method of grounding what remained – and had left the werewolf a worn, weary man. In the wake of responsibility and loss only Logan stood bright, punctuating that darkness with staccato moments of illuminating brilliance; in the fog of the past, December shines like a beacon, a memory of learning to let go. It was the first step, an important one. There were lessons learned in priorities, in moving on, that have manifested in this very trip – in that way Nate can look at Logan and forget the rest of the world even exists.
And he’d walk through hell – he’d drown in Blackwater a thousand times over to end up here again.
Nathan sits when prompted, and the narrow-eyed look he shoots the hunter is laced with an obvious and teasing hunger; because there are no insults allowed regarding Logan’s body, in jest or not, and Nathan enjoys making it overwhelmingly clear just how attractive he finds the other man. He will never miss an opportunity to be sure Logan knows it – and so that gaze stays level and smug as he passes over the camera, and the hunter kneels to help with his laces. ”Mm, you don’t need to get commanding,” the werewolf murmurs – and when Logan’s eyes meet his, he laughs, and runs a hand through the man’s hair affectionately. ”Ben’s gonna love that picture, so you just shut up.” There’s no protest at the offered assistance; Nathan’s fingers are clumsy from injury, though he dismisses it as the cold, and it saves him having to ask for help. He rises at Logan’s insistence, off-balance but grinning.
”Don’t you worry,” he chuckles, leaning into Logan for support. ”If you break a hip, I’ll get a judge to the goddamn hospital. I won’t let you off the hook that easy.” They wobble to the rink with what dignity skates allow – which is about as much as one would expect, when combined with the pair’s lack of certain things like poise or grace. Nathan pauses beside the hunter at the railing. There is a moment when that familiar, tremulous thread of anxiety flares somewhere beneath his chest – it worms in slow and unsuspected, reflected in a sudden, wary glance to the buzzing crowd over Logan’s shoulder – and the werewolf tenses. It is a subtle thing, a hardening of the lines of his jaw and a coolness in his gaze, but Nathan has spent the last months learning the remedy for his irrational fears. A glance to Logan – glaring warily at the ice beneath them – and he lets the sentiment go, washes it away in a controlled exhale. Nathan stamps it out and burns it clean with a will, with vigor, because he will not let anything ruin this – least of all himself. The hunter is a salve greater than any science-born cure.
”Go on,” the werewolf encourages, grinning as the world reduces back down to a simple existence – to Logan, to Nathan, to their ridiculous shared moments. ”It’s not gonna bite.” Logan, though, seems to have plans to make a liar out of him, and he is rendered dumb with guilty amusement when the hunter falls flat. Nate drifts out to help, stifling a grin with pursed lips. ”Shit, Logan, I was kidding about the hip thing—“ and then his legs slide out from under him, thrown off by the addition of Logan’s weight, and it is a slow moment before their mirth subsides long enough to grant them the ability to rise. There is a sting from stitches pulled, but they are no worse for the wear – better, even, for having gotten it out of the way.
Nathan settles in close, and manages to maintain his balance when Logan’s lips claim his own. He keeps the gesture as chaste as desire will allow, but there is a romantic innocence layered within the gentleness of it all, a joy taken from sheer simplicity; the werewolf smiles against the hunter’s mouth, and pulls back reluctantly. ”You,” Nathan whispers with playful accusation. ”I love you.” And then his weight shifts, and his feet are everywhere and nowhere all at once, and Nathan is left clinging desperately to Logan’s jacket and glaring up in stubborn defiance. ”—but we should probably move,” because somehow that seems better when Nate hasn’t even mastered the art of standing still.
But it helps. Nathan finds an absurd amount of enjoyment in being one of a pair grown men, going ice skating, grinning like kids and stumbling over eachother – and takes some modicum of pride in only falling twice more. For having not been on skates since he was seven, it can’t be too terrible an effort. The plaza above them sweeps by in lazy passes; the people about them change, but Logan remains constant, kept close with laughter, with the occasional just-because touch or clasping of hands. In the end, the cold sets in more than Nathan would like to admit, and the werewolf suggests a break, some hot chocolate; he will relent should Logan offer to pay, and share a secret smile from over the rim of his cup.
”We should find the car. Head to the hotel, if you wanted.” And Nathan hopes Logan wants. The thought of taking the man back to their room – of showing off the end result of his planning, of ordering room service for dinner and not stepping foot outside until morning – makes the chill in the air seem nonexistent. He taps a finger on his chin thoughtfully. ”If I remember correctly, you promised me something regarding our room’s contents, and I’d hate to make you a dishonest man.” The werewolf’s smirk grows wide, turns wicked with thinly veiled intentions. He stands, and offers an outstretched hand.
Ten blocks to go, and Nathan expects it to be the most difficult car ride of his life.
Logan said:
”Yeah-- you do,” is Logan’s smug but affectionate reply. He pushes back and sends them gliding slowly over the rink’s smooth surface. ”I guess I love you, too.” A smile falls over his features and Logan gives Nathan’s hand a gentle squeeze. ”Enough to marry you, at least.” Logan is not settling; he is still resolutely committed to the idea that Nathan is well out of his league. Somehow, through sheer dumb luck or winning the equivalent of the cosmic lottery, Logan has ended up here with Nathan. He will not ruin his fortune by analyzing it, because if there is one thing Logan has learned this past year sharing his life with the werewolf, it is the value of living in the present.
And if the present happens to be his making an ass of himself on the ice, then that is fine, because it is with Nathan – and anything with Nathan, by default is rendered amazing. There is shared laughter and stolen glances, and teasing touches; playful gestures that between the two men hold a certain weight and tell a familiar story. There will always be this courtship, this playful dance and Logan will never tire of it. The werewolf calls for a break and the hunter willingly obliges. As young as the other man makes him feel, the ache in Logan’s knee is a persistent reminder that he is a child no longer. Nathan smiles and it sends a warmth through the hunter that his drink of hot cocoa could not hope to match. He could forget every ill, every bad and dark thing in existence because of that one smile.
He supposes it is why he has survived this long.
Nathan, his personal lifeline and beacon in the dark.
”Nah, I thought we could sit out here until our asses are numb and our toes fall off,” Logan delivers back through a lopsided smirk. Those grey eyes of his tell a different story as he moves them up and down the werewolf. ”But I wouldn’t want to make out like a liar.” He accepts the offered hand and pulls himself to his feet. Together, they find their cab and Logan sidles in close to Nathan. He wraps an arm around the man’s shoulders and leans into him for the warmth and comfort of contact. If Logan’s fingers tease against the skin of Nathan’s neck and collarbone, the hunter appears unaware. He stares intently out of the window and plays the card of an innocent tourist, though a telling smile settles on his lips. New York’s skyline morphs and changes under the overcast sky, and the car ride proceeds in relative quiet.
They pull to a stop in front of a large hotel and Logan nearly balks. ”Are you sure this is the right address? This can’t be the right address.” But it is because the chuckling chauffer is rounding around the vehicle to help them with their luggage. The hunter shakes his head and slips out onto the sidewalk. He accepts his suitcase from the driver, then gives his muttered thanks. Logan’s eyes are trained on the entrance to the building and the hunter wonders, not for the first time, how much Nathan is spending on this – on him. He remains tightlipped and bewildered as they make their way inside of the lobby. Nathan handles the desk clerk, sets their affairs in order, and then it is an elevator ride up to a floor that makes Logan glad he does not suffer from a fear of heights.
”This is a room?” It looks like an apartment drawn straight from one of those fancy, modern home-decoration catalogues. ”How is this a room.” The hunter is at a loss and he leaves his suitcase forgotten near the sofa as he takes to exploring. The hotel ‘room’ is incredibly spacious and insanely extravagant. The bed is sizeable, something worth noting, and the view of New York from the windows is outstanding. He wanders into the overly-large restroom and immediately notices the large, hot-tub styled bath. He notices something else, too. ”They have one of those goddamned fancy French toilets,” he calls out because clearly this is a remarkable discovery that needs sharing.
Logan leaves the restroom and finds Nathan. He grips at the crook of the man’s elbow and meets him eye to eye. ”This is ridiculous,” he delivers, flummoxed. ”You’re ridiculous.” He sounds exasperated but there is an open-mouthed smile warming his expression. Logan leans in and captures Nathan’s mouth with his own, and takes to unbuttoning the man’s shirt. ”I can’t believe you,” he manages through a break in their kissing, slides his hands over the werewolf’s abdomen and up over his chest and shoulders, then pulls Nathan’s shirt off. ”Goddamnit, Nathan.” He backs them up until the werewolf’s knees hit the bed, and then he pushes, hoping the send the man toppling over. Logan descends, deft hands working eagerly at Nathan’s belt.
If Nathan wants to be indulgent, Logan will show him indulgence.
Nathan said:
The night slips by, hot and furtive, and somewhere in the darkness sleep is found.
Dawn comes too soon, as it is wont to do, and with it the sounds of renewed life drift up from the streets of the city below. In a silent hotel room, far above the din, the rising light cuts bright swaths across twisted bed sheets and over the bodies of two men entangled there – and it is at the call of this first encroaching step of daybreak that Nathan finally stirs. The dregs of what had been an indolent and well-deserved slumber are shrugged off slowly as he stumbles to consciousness, spurred on by a shifting, restless feeling in his chest. Though a satisfied exhaustion may have driven him to ultimately seek sleep, when the werewolf cracks his eyes and allows the meaning of the day to seep into his awareness – a memory drawn from the comforting and familiar warmth of Logan against his back – the vigors of the previous evening are burned away in a rush.
Because today is important. Today might just be the greatest thing he’s done with his life, and his anticipation will not bow to any lingering fatigue; Nathan’s wakefulness is sudden and all encompassing, electric in its fervor.
Sitting up slowly, the werewolf slides his hips out from under the weight of Logan’s arm, and his breath catches, stutters, as his eyes fall to the face of his fiancé. Nathan leans forward to press a gentle kiss to the hunter’s forehead – to his lips, when the man proves awake – and slips from bed before the moment can capture him. The power of the morning already has his nerves aflame, and the simple act of waking beside Logan fills him with such a pervasive joy that it becomes difficult to bear; his heart quivers, pulse stammering, and he escapes to the shower. The anxiety that clutches him, standing wet beneath water left to run cold, is nothing like the spikes of panic or lurking dread he has grown used to handling. It is a feeling forged of an impossible love and the sweetest elation, an excitement he cannot contain inside a fragile thing like skin—
—because Nathan is marrying Logan, and he thinks the thrill of that thought alone might just kill him.
From some last reserve of coherence does he manage to find the presence of mind to wash up, and when the werewolf reemerges to the bedroom it’s with a feeling of reassured resolve. This jittery worry does not stem from doubt – Nathan has never felt so firm in a decision – and so when those blue eyes fall upon Logan from the bathroom door, he reflects only confidence, certainty, and an unabashed fondness. ”Shower’s yours,” he murmurs, gesturing with a jerk of his head over his shoulder – but Nathan makes no move to relinquish the doorway, and when the hunter steps near, he draws the other man into his arms with a small, coy smile. ”Morning.” Hands run slow and leisurely over Logan’s muscled back, and his mouth captures his partner’s in an emotional, if relatively chaste kiss. Shifting close in a brush of heated skin, the werewolf’s hand dives low along Logan’s spine – and then he pulls away, urging the hunter on his way with a sharp smack to his ass and a devilish grin. ”Go on,” he teases, stepping back. ”Car’s gonna be here at nine.”
Nathan shaves at the sink while Logan showers, and resists the nagging desire to join him. By the time the hunter finishes, the werewolf has returned to the bedroom to dress, and is slipping into the slacks of his suit when the man makes his reappearance. The smile he wears is bold and comfortable, easy on his features – and it is all for Logan alone.
”You still feel good about this?” But there is no real question in Nathan’s tone, no suspicion; it is nearly conversational, spoken simply for the need to hear Logan say yes – to ground this dream of a morning in something closer to reality for fear that it will all slip away. He can feel his heart twisting at the prospect of the day, writhing within the confines of his own chest; an eagerness floods through his veins and spikes his blood with adrenaline. The werewolf buttons his pants and shrugs into his shirt, and his hands tremble as he knots his tie. A breath, a swallow, and he is settled; he pulls on his jacket, smooths the fabric flat, and steps towards Logan with a sheepish grin.
”How do I look?” Nathan reaches out as he asks – does up the last button of Logan’s shirt before securing his tie for him – and glances up to meet the hunter’s grey eyes. The emotion that stirs within him would be frightening in its intensity if it weren’t so familiar, an overwhelming sense of possession and desire that is amplified by his wolf and impossible to restrain; he drops his gaze and straightens Logan’s tie again needlessly, just to linger, and then allows the man to finish dressing.
In the werewolf’s head runs an ongoing checklist, one they are near to completing, because routine and practicality calm him; by the bed, the nightstand’s clock ticks their remaining moments down with an unfathomable slowness. Wallet – license – identification – camera. All Nathan needs now is Logan on his arm, and the car outside will see them away.
Logan said:
They are far from any location that Logan might call home, but he feels no inkling of discomfort. The bed sheets and the mattress, though lush, are unfamiliar and yet no shadows that speak to a foreign environment pollute his mind. There is only the warmth, breathing and alive, beneath his arm and chest – and the rest of the world does not matter. It is conclusive evidence that home is where the heart is, and Logan’s heart lays resolutely with Nathan. The scenery may shift, the faces around them may depart and arrive new, but Nathan and Logan remain steady in the often strong currents of change.
He is slow to wake as the marathon of last night’s activities still clutches to his body with satisfied weariness. Logan shifts, mutters something nonsensical under his breath, then his eyes open to take in the new day. He is immediately greeted by a kiss and what follows is his responding slow, sleepy, and hopelessly affectionate smile. In an instant, he remembers the importance of the day because it is staring at him with clear blue eyes. His heart might skip a beat and he might draw in a sharp breath, but there is no trepidation to be found – only the unfettered excitement of a man ready to take that next step into something monumentally significant.
Nathan leaves the bed and grey eyes follow his departure with not-quite innocent interest that starts at strong shoulders and works its way down to the man’s rear. Logan looks towards the ceiling with a sheepish grin and takes a moment to simply lay there tangled in the sheets. Only when the residual heat left by the werewolf dissipates, does the hunter move. He makes his way towards the windows and stares out into the city skyline. From the vantage point of the hotel room, the cars below seem so small and the people within them nonexistent. For the better part of a year, Logan has been entirely wrapped up in one man and the partnership he provides. The rest of the universe fell away and through Nathan’s guiding hand, Logan was able to remember what was important.
Water courses through the piping and the sound of the shower is a muted backdrop to the hunter’s spell of reflection. He throws a glance over his shoulder towards the bathroom door before looking up at the New York winter’s sky. Over a year ago, it was a sunlit desert sky that he was waywardly marching under. He remembers that ridiculous powder-blue station wagon pulling up to save his hide from the sun and heat. He remembers the first time he saw Nathan, that waft of Mary Jane and cigarettes, those too-cool sunglasses and his supposed hippy hair. Logan loves that hair now, wouldn’t want it changed for the world. He smiles as he recalls the botched stay in a hotel room where nothing happened. It was a missed chance, an encounter that haunted the hunter and left him wondering for months to come. Then there was Blackwater, a messy dance of paranoia and danger to the percussion of gunfire. If someone asked the hunter to draw a line to illustrate how he came from that lonely man living on the road, to here, the man about to marry the love of his life – he wouldn’t be able to do it.
His father told him to never question his blessings and when it comes to Nathan, Logan knows he is well and truly blessed.
The water cuts off and Logan lingers near the window until he hears the doorknob clicking. ”Was beginning to worry you fell asleep in there,” he returns with an affectionate smirk. Logan closes the distance and grins widely, then laughs, when Nathan embraces him. ”Morning to you, too, good sir.” An effervescence lights his words and Logan returns the kiss with as much meaning as he might muster. ”Oh, baby, you know I love it when you’re rough,” Logan croons as he steps into the shower. He allows the water to run hot and relaxes into the soothing pressure of the spray. Through it all, he can’t stop grinning, and thinks he might be losing his mind in the best possible way.
He wanders out with a towel around his waist and immediately takes interest in Nathan’s smile. ”You know I am.” Logan has never been more sure about anything in his life. ”And hell, Nate, give me some credit. I’m not about to leave that,” he gestures to the werewolf with a nod of his head. ”Hanging at the altar.” His smirk is good-humored, if roguish, and Logan proceeds to slip into his suit. His hand settles over Nathan’s as the werewolf fastens his tie and holds it there against his chest. ”You look good.” And that is, effectively, the understatement of the millennia. The moment draws on in which Logan simply looks at Nathan, over those features he has come to love and memorize--his eyes, his strong cheekbones, his mouth. ”Really good,” quieter now, with a certain reverence.
”Well,” he exhales. ”Let’s get this show on the road.” Together, Logan and Nathan make their way down. The elevator ride feels abnormally slow and the hunter’s nerves begin to twist. There is a fidget to his foot, a nervous tic to the way he continually pulls at his sleeve. He is about to get married to Nathan and just thinking about it has him unraveling. They step into the hotel lobby and out into the city, and at the curbside the car is waiting with a familiar face leaning against the passenger side door.
”Looking real sharp there, fellas,” the driver greets with a broad grin. ”Gonna be breaking so many hearts when you start tellin’ everyone you’re married men.” He gives a wink and pops open the door, then makes a sweeping gesture towards the interior. ”Your chariot awaits.” Logan gives a smile as he thinks that it is a step up from a certain power-blue chariot. His hand is at the small of Nathan’s back and he guides the man inside, before slipping in behind him. The driver gently shuts the door and rounds around the vehicle. ”Next stop, the old ball and chain. I’m happy for you, really,” the man says in false-sarcasm. Wheels roll forward and they are on their way.
For a long while, Logan is silent, too wrapped up in his own thoughts and nervousness. But his eyes find Nathan’s and he provides an encouraging, if lopsided, smile. ”We got everything, right?“ They have checked and double checked, and he has no reason to doubt anything might go awry. ”Of course we have everything.” The driver shakes his head and looks at the pair in the rearview mirror. Pre-marriage jitters – he’s seen it before.
”Say,” the chauffer interrupts because he is curious and has since counted two, and only two men these past days. ”Who’s gonna be your witness?” Logan shoots Nathan a look and the driver grimaces and turns his attention back onto the road. ”Whoops. ”
The hunter rubs at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and finger, and tries to will down the sudden flare of anxiety. ”We can find someone.” This is a big city – there has to be someone willing to take the time out of their day. ”Hell, I’ll pay someone to do it.” Because Logan and Nathan are going to get married and nothing is going to stop them.
