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Scott stirred awake in the middle of the night, the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting a faint glow across the room. His hand automatically reached out, searching the other side of the bed for the familiar warmth of Logan’s body, only to find it cold and empty. Scott slipped off his sleep mask and fumbled his glasses onto his face. He blinked groggily, squinting at the empty space beside him.
Gone again, Scott thought, not entirely surprised. Logan had a habit of wandering off in the middle of the night, slipping out of bed whenever the restlessness took over. Scott had come to expect it by now, understanding that Logan’s mind was always a battlefield of memories and instincts that wouldn’t let him sleep easy.
Normally, Scott would roll over, letting Logan come back when he was ready. He knew Logan well enough to know that sometimes the man just needed to get up and wander. But tonight, Scott felt an odd dryness in his throat. He licked his lips, debating whether to ignore it, but the thirst nagged at him. He sighed, sitting up slowly and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
Guess I’m getting up, he thought, lifting his glasses to rub the sleep from his eyes. Might as well check on Logan while I’m at it.
Scott stood, picking up a discarded shirt off the floor and slipping it on.
The mansion was still, the kind of steady hum that only came in the dead of night. As Scott padded down the hall, the cool floorboards creaked softly underfoot, the sound familiar and almost comforting. He made his way to the kitchen, knowing the route by heart, even in the darkness. He flipped on the light, but Logan was nowhere to be seen. Scott grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filled it with cold water from the fridge, and took slow sips, letting the liquid soothe the dryness in his throat.
A faint sound caught his attention as he set the empty glass down in the sink—the low hum of a television. Scott frowned slightly, his curiosity piqued. Was Logan watching TV at this hour? He knew most of the students were long asleep, and the staff rarely stayed up late enough for this. He headed down the hall toward the den, the soft flicker of the TV’s light spilling into the hallway.
When Scott reached the den, he peered inside—and stopped, taken aback by what he saw.
Curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, was Jones, a younger student whose technopathic mutation left him without the need for sleep. Scott often worried about Jones and how isolating that part of his mutation must feel—being awake while the rest of the world slept. The kid’s eyes were glued to the television, a rerun of an old sitcom playing on the screen. But it was the sight beside Jones that really caught Scott off guard.
Logan was slumped in his favorite old leather recliner, passed out cold. His head lolled back at an awkward angle, mouth wide open, and soft, rhythmic snores filled the room. To top it off, a line of drool glistened at the corner of his mouth, catching the faint light from the TV. Scott was momentarily stunned by the sight of Logan looking so utterly vulnerable. It was a side of Logan he didn’t often see, even after they started sharing a bed, and he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.
Jones noticed Scott standing in the doorway and offered him a small wave. “Hi, Mr. Summers,” he whispered.
“Hey, Jones,” Scott replied quietly. “How long’s Logan been down here?”
Jones shrugged, eyes returning to the TV. “A few hours, I think. He usually comes down when he can’t sleep.”
Scott blinked. “Usually?”
“Yeah,” Jones said, his voice casual. “He comes to sit with me a lot.”
Scott raised an eyebrow, glancing between the sleeping Logan and Jones. “He does?”
“Yeah,” Jones said. “He knows I get bored at night, so he comes down to keep me company. We just watch TV together and talk sometimes. He’s… really nice about it.”
Scott felt something warm bloom in his chest at the boy’s words. Logan was always quick to brush off his own kindness, but Scott knew better. He’d seen the tenderness Logan kept hidden behind layers of gruffness and sarcasm. This, though—Logan coming down to sit with a kid who couldn’t sleep, just to keep him company—this was a side of Logan that made Scott’s heart swell.
Scott moved closer, leaning down to get a better look at Logan. The man was out cold, completely relaxed in a way Scott rarely saw. His rough exterior, the grumbling and tough-guy act, melted away in sleep, leaving behind something softer, more peaceful.
“Does he fall asleep like this often?” Scott asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Jones grinned. “Yeah. He tries to stay awake, but I think the TV puts him out after a while.”
Scott chuckled softly. The idea of Logan—a man who could tear through enemies like tissue paper—being lulled to sleep by the quiet drone of a sitcom was somehow both amusing and heartwarming. Scott glanced around the room, spotting a spare blanket draped over the back of the couch. With careful movements, he grabbed the blanket and approached Logan’s chair.
Scott gently draped the blanket over Logan, making sure to tuck it around his broad shoulders. As he did, Logan stirred slightly, his brow furrowing in his sleep. His hand reached out instinctively, his fingers curling around Scott’s wrist, tugging him close.
Logan cracked one eye open, bleary and unfocused. “Hey, baby,” he slurred, his voice thick with sleep.
Warmth flooded through Scott at the sound of Logan’s sleepy voice. He leaned down, brushing a tender kiss across Logan’s forehead. “Go back to sleep, Logan,” Scott whispered, his voice gentle.
Logan grumbled something unintelligible in response, his grip on Scott’s wrist loosening as his eyes fluttered closed again. Within seconds, he was out cold again, his snores resuming softly, the blanket now snugly wrapped around him.
Scott stood up straight, glancing back at Jones, whose focus flicked back to the television, pretending he wasn’t watching the exchange.
“Thanks for keeping him company, Jones,” Scott said, his voice warm with gratitude.
Jones shrugged. “He keeps me company, really. It’s nice. Makes the nights a little less boring.”
Scott nodded, understanding the sentiment. “Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to come find me, okay?”
“I will. Thanks, Mr. Summers.”
Scott cast one last fond glance at Logan, now completely dead to the world, before turning to leave the room. As he made his way back up the stairs, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Logan had always been so much more than he let the world see. Underneath the gruff exterior was a man with a heart too big for his own good. Logan would never admit to it—he’d probably deny it outright—but Scott knew the truth.
Back in the bedroom, Scott slid under the covers, grabbing Logan’s pillow to snuggle into, comforted by his scent. His heart was warm with the thought of Logan snoring away downstairs. The man might act tough, but in moments like these, Scott saw the depth of his caring, the way he quietly looked after the people around him.
He closed his eyes, a soft smile still lingering on his lips. Tomorrow, he’d tease Logan about the drooling, but for now, he let himself drift back to sleep, his thoughts filled with the man he loved—snoring, drooling, and all.