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jasmines-library · 6 months

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Oh, Baby.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 21. Prompt: Vehicular accident.

Fandom: supernatural.

Summary: on the way back from a hunt, an out of control car veers into yours sending it hurtling off of the path and into a tree, leaving you trapped. Too far from the hospital, the Winchesters are left with the task of getting your body from the car as they wait for Cas to arrive.

Warnings: car crash, dislocated shoulder, broken bones/ribs, blood.

Word count: 1.4K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Dean was driving too fast. His foot was pressed all the way down on the pedal as he let the impala fly down the road. He was drumming along to the rhythm of the music as you and Sam sang. The hunt had been successful and spirits were high. The three of you were looking forward to a hot shower and a warm bed, because the night was cold and an eerie chill hung in the air.

The October chill had cast a fog over the road, which obscured everything further than a few metres ahead, but Baby was nearing Kansas and Dean knew the roads well, so he wasn’t too fussed by the narrow roads.

But what happened next came out of nowhere. Another passing car had skidded off of the road and veered into your lane. It smashed into the left passenger side of Baby, sending her sliding off the path. Your side of the car took the brunt of the impact as it collided with a tree. The motion sent your body sliding roughly into the door with a force that was sure to leave bruises. The glass spiderwebbed and then shattered, raining down hundreds and thousands of tiny glass flakes over your head.

Dean groaned when the car stilled, sitting up abruptly. His chest felt tight where the seat belt had flattened against his ribs, so he fumbled to unclip his seatbelt. As he twisted he caught sight of his brother whose head hung low against his chest. There was glass in his hair and a small cut on his temple.

“Sam.” Dean reached over to shake his brother. “Sammy.”

Sam sat up abruptly but immediately regretted the pull in his side. “What..?”

“Are you ok?” Dean took in the caved in metal, pissed that he would have to rebuild it again.

“Fine.” Sam brushed the glass from his hair as he too surveyed the damage. But his eyes widened and he gripped his brother's arm when he suddenly remembered you in the backseat. “Y/n.”

The two of them manoeuvred their bodies in the small space so that they could face you. Some of the roof had caved in, which made it hard to see, but they managed to make out your unconscious body in the darkness. It was crumpled against the doorframe. Your head rested on the window ledge, hair matted with blood from where it had collided with the frame and scraped against the shards of glass. Your arm hung at a concerning angle, and they were almost 100% sure your shoulder was dislocated, but they couldn’t tell from this angle.

Dean reached over the seat, straining his body but you were too far away for him to reach you, so he tried to call your name. You didn’t move.

Dean cursed and pushed hard on his doors to open it. “See if you can get her door open.”

Sam forced the door open and clambered out of the car as his brother made his way round the crushed bonnet. Half of your door was completely obscured by the tree that had made the car stop spiralling out of control, making it impossible to open the door.

Dean rammed his fist into the side of the car in a fit of rage.

“Fuck! Sam help me move the car.”

The Winchesters shuffled round to the back of the car and began to haul the car away from the tree. It took a great amount of effort and their boots leaving dents in the frosty ground of them to move the impala, but when it finally inched far enough away from the tree and your door was visible, they breathed a sigh of relief. But immediately took it back when they tugged in the misshaped handle and the door didn’t budge.

Then Dean tried to rouse you again, reaching through the window and rousing your body. You whined as all of the pain flooded in at once.

“Sweetheart?”

You twisted your head to glance up at him through droopy eyes. “Dean?”

“It’s us.”

You whimpered as you tried to shift, pinned down by your seatbelt. “Hurts.”

“We know sweetheart. We’re gonna get you out of there. Just hold on for us okay?”

You nodded, but made no noise.

Sam tried the handle again but it was stuck down firmly as if someone had welded the pieces together and then encased them in a layer of concrete just to make sure that they were secure.

He then considered the window. They could pull you out from it but that would run the risk of injuring you further, especially with the shards of glass jutting out from the bottom. It was far from Sam’s first choice, but at the moment it was looking like their only option.

“Give me your jacket.” He reached out a hand to his brother.

“What?” Without his jacket the cold air would bite at Dean’s skin. Sam knew this, but Dean’s jacket was thicker than his and would provide you more protection when they moved you.

“Just give it to me.”

Dean shrugged it off after pocketing his phone and placed it in his brother's hands who then laid it across the bottom of the window and leaned forwards to talk to you.

“Okay Kid I need you to unbuckle your seatbelt. Can you do that for me?”

You fumbled blindly for the buckle, wincing at the tug on your arm and ribs, both of which were already forming dark bruises and were more likely than not broken in some places. You relaxed as the pressure lessened, but without the fabric keeping you in place, your body slumped forwards.

Sam hooked his arm under your shoulders ready to guide you out of the window. “This is gonna hurt sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

When Sam tugged upwards you screamed. Every inch of your body burned as he slid you out of the window. The strain on your shoulder was immense, and the brothers were now certain that it was dislocated.

“Stop.” You begged. “Please.”

Sam’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry but I can’t.”

He pulled you out the last stretch of the window without adding too many cuts to your fragile body, only a few nicks here or there. Dean helped ease you down onto the ground.

“Cas is on his way.” He told his brother, who gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment because his full attention was on you. It was too far to get to the hospital in time.

“We have to pop it back in.” Dean told him, gesturing to your shoulder. “If we leave it like that it’s going to get worse.”

Sam bit his lip. “I know.”

“Please… it hurts” you whimpered. “No more. Please.”

“Just a little bit more and then it’ll stop. I promise.” Sam told you, bracing his hands on your shoulders as Dean leaned you against his chest. You cried into his chest, clinging onto his shirt to hide from the cold.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

“On three.” Sam said. “One. Two-“

He rolled the joint, forcing it back into place before you had time to brace yourself. You cried out sharply, nursing your arm as tears flooded your cheeks.

Shakily he removed his hands.

“All done, y/n. All done.”

Dean rubbed your back gently and cast a worried gaze at his brother who towered above the two of you.

It was fateful waiting for the flutter of wings. Dean held you close to his chest as you shivered. Whether it was from the pain or the cold he didn’t know, but they had to keep forcing you awake when your eyes drifted shut. As Dean held you, Sam made work of trying to salvage anything from the car. He had found a blanket wedged in the backseat and draped it over your shoulders.

At last, Cas finally appeared.

“I am sorry.” He rattled out. “I came as soon as I could.”

“Can you help her?” Sam asked.

He reached out and placed a gentle hand on your forehead from where a blinding light was emitted and then a wave of calm washed over you, soothing all your aches and pains before you fell asleep against Dean’s chest.

“She should be fine now.” Cas instructed “she just needs to rest.”

“Thank you.” Dean pulled your sleeping form and smiled gently into your hair, glad to still have you by his side for a while longer.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 21 ⛤ DAY 23 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

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whumpdoyoumean · 6 months

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Whumptober #22

Whoops, I missed it by like an hour. It's fine!

My sincerest apologies to any Texans reading this, I have definitely just fudged all of the geography (and we’re just going to pretend that the 126 responds to any call anywhere near Austin) :’)

xxx they never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” There isn’t an immediate answer, but Grace thinks she can hear someone breathing. “Hello, can you hear me?”

There’s a short pause and then, “Grace? Thank god, I hoped it’d be you.”

Grace’s stomach drops and she sits up a little straighter. “TK, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I--we need help. We got in an accident and Carlos, he--he’s stuck, I tried to get him out but I couldn’t do it and he’s stuck and I--”

“Hey, hey, hey. TK, slow down honey. Where are you?”

“I--I’m not sure, exactly. Uh, we were headed--headed west on 71, maybe fifteen minutes outside of Austin?” His voice is taut, and Grace knows the tone well. It’s the kind of tone that comes when someone is on the verge of panic and trying very hard not to be. “Is that--will they be able to find us? I don’t--”

“That’s good enough, TK,” Grace says, typing quickly. “Help is on the way. Can you tell me what happened?”

“The car rolled. Something darted into the road, just came out of nowhere. Carlos swerved to miss it--oh, god, Grace!”

“Hey, TK. TK, I need you to listen to me. The best thing you can do for you and for Carlos is to stay calm. Take a deep breath for me. Are you still in the vehicle?”

TK takes a deep, shaky breath. “No. I was able to get out.”

“Okay, good. Are you injured?”

“No, Grace, I’m okay. I’ve got a--a burn on my arm, from the airbag I think, but I’m okay.”

“What about Carlos? Is he conscious?”

“Yeah, he, um. He says he’s not hurt but Grace, he’s stuck and I’m--” He lowers his voice. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. “People who are trapped in a vehicle have higher rates of critical injury. Broken bones, blood loss…Where are they?”

“The 126 is on their way to you, TK.” Grace speaks calmly, doing her best to sound reassuring. “They’ll be there soon. Can you--TK?”

The line disconnects suddenly, and Grace’s heart jumps. She immediately reaches for her phone, pulling up TK’s number so that she can call him.

It goes straight to voicemail.

xxx

“Grace? Grace, are you there?” TK looks at his phone. No signal. “Damn it!”

“What’s wrong, TK?”

TK takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down a little before he turns to Carlos, walking back to the wrecked car. “Lost signal. How are you doing, you still breathing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Carlos says, and smiles a little. “Ready to be out of this car. What about you, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, babe,” TK says. It’s mostly true. His chest and stomach hurt a little, but it’s probably just from the seatbelt. “Grace said the 126 is on their way, it shouldn’t be long now.”

“Good…Hey, I’m really sorry I totaled your car.”

“Carlos, the car is the least of my worries right now.” TK can’t help the anxious edge to his voice. He looks down, running his fingers nervously through his hair. “It’s replaceable. You’re not. You’re sure you’re not feeling dizzy? No pain?”

“TK, look at me.” TK looks up to see Carlos staring at him, brown eyes wide, brow pinched. “I promise you if anything starts to feel wrong, I’ll tell you.”

TK is about to answer when his attention is drawn by the distant sound of sirens and he lets out a long sigh of relief. “Here they come, thank god. We’re gonna get you out of there.”

The engine has barely stopped before Owen is off of it and running to TK’s side.

“Hey, TK, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” TK says. “We need to get Carlos out of the car.”

Owen lifts his eyebrows. “We don’t need to do anything.”

“Dad, I can help. I want to help, he’s my husband, I--”

“I know,” Owen interrupts, putting his hands on TK’s shoulders. “I know, believe me. But right now, you are not a first responder, you are a victim. You need to let us work.”

TK feels a surge of frustration. “I am not a victim.”

“Hey, TK.”

TK turns at the sound of Tommy’s voice. She nods at Owen.

“I got ‘im, Cap.”

Owen nods back, then turns to the 126 crew. “Alright, let’s get started on that extraction.”

“Come on, TK,” Tommy says gently. “Let’s get you checked out.”

“I’m fine Captain Vega. I need to be with Carlos, I--”

“Hey, hey. We’ve got ‘im. Nancy is over there making sure he’s alright while they get him out. Now I need to make sure you’re alright, too. Bandaging that arm, for instance.”

TK looks down at the nasty burn on his left forearm and sighs. “Fine.”

It’s with no small share of reluctance that he allows Tommy to lead him to the back of the ambulance, though he keeps his eye on the car and the 126 and Carlos, barely paying attention as Tommy takes his vitals.

“Heart rate’s a little elevated,” Tommy says, “but you’re under a lot of stress, that’s to be expected. I’m gonna wrap that arm up for you now, okay?”

TK hisses a little as she wraps a bandage around his forearm and she looks up at him.

“Sorry about that. All done.”

“Thank you,” TK says, standing, ignoring the pain in his middle as he does so. He can ask about that later. Right now, he just wants to be as close to Carlos as he can. Tommy follows him, bringing a gurney along as they move nearer to the car.

It takes another ten minutes to get Carlos out. He’s got some scrapes and bruises, but as they load him onto the gurney he, miraculously, actually seems fine, smiling and even cracking a joke. The relief is almost too much for TK, and he actually gets lightheaded as they get onto the ambulance.

“You’ll both need to be checked out at the hospital,” Tommy says as they start toward the hospital, “but your vitals look good, Carlos. The two of you are extremely lucky. I’ve seen a lot of car accidents in my time, and not many people are able to just walk away.”

“We’re gonna be okay, baby,” Carlos says, looking over at him as best he can with the neck brace on and reaching over to take TK’s hand in his own. He frowns a little. “Hey, TK, you alright? You’re clammy.”

“Uh…” TK takes a deep breath, then closes his eyes, leaning forward to put his head between his knees. “I’m a little dizzy. It’ll pass…”

He feels a hand on his arm and Tommy says, “TK, I’m gonna take your vitals again.”

He blacks out for a second as the blood pressure cuff tightens on his arm. He’s distantly aware of Carlos’s voice.

“TK? What’s wrong?”

And then Tommy’s, in that professional tone she gets on serious calls. “His pulse is high and his blood pressure is dropping. He might be bleeding internally. TK, you with me?”

And then everything fades.

xxx

#whumptober2023 #no.22 #vehicular accident #911 lone star #fic #car crash #collapse #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 ls fic #whumptober #my writing #my fic #whump #whump fic #tarlos

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stormxpadme · 6 months

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Whumptober 2023 No. 22 - Glass Shard/Vehicular Accident/“Watch out!”

Scogan Bingo challenge Honeymoon

Marrying Logan was about as romantic and spectacular as anyone would expect, namely, one drunk Vegas chapel trip shy of a horrendous triviality.

It would probably have bothered Scott a lot more if it hadn’t been exactly what he'd expected. They'd talked about things, sure. Once or twice, in passing. Recent political developments once more nurturing mutant hostility in the general public made the climate for their school and their team rough as so often. With more conflicts arising and potentially lethal battles on the horizon every other week? Even two people who'd not even put something like a real label on their relationship so far felt the occasional need for a little bit of regularity, of stability in their lives. Plans, there had not been any, though. Not least because they didn’t want their teammates or the kids at Mutant High to know before the whole thing would be done with. Scott had had more than enough of his turbulent love life financing half the mutant magazine gossip writer salaries in this world.

And Logan mostly agreed to the whole deal in the first place because an according entry in the administration offices of this country made things simpler when it came to certain cases of emergency. Especially since Jean's last death, they couldn’t always rely on one of their own being around to patch either of them up after another mission gone south. Logan in particular could do well without yet another entry on his already impressive police record, for breaking some hospital security baboon's nose one day because he might not be allowed to visit his own boyfriend in some ICU.

Not to mention that, since they'd lost Charles in the clusterfuck that had been the Cure and Phoenix Crisis, finances at Mutant High had become significantly more complicated. Some really sweet tax benefits were a pretty convincing argument as far as Scott was concerned. In the end, nothing more than a convenience that they agreed, they could indulge in at some undefined point whenever the opportunity might knock. When that exactly happened, thanks to the two of them embarking on a small quest together, to stop a couple of lowlife bigots from ruining some wealthy mutant's private wedding in a luxurious country estate up North? It was only logical to accept the favor from a very graceful host, to lend them suits and the officiant already at the site anyway. In five minutes, everything was done with, much like expected. They put their signatures on the right spot on a couple of quickly scribbled-down papers and were even polite enough to stay for a drink each afterward. After wishing the actual happy couple good luck, they changed back into their uniforms and strode back to the X-jeep parked a couple of streets away. Technically, that could have been it. Except it only truly reached the front of Scott's thinking what they'd just done when he rummaged for the car keys in one of his belt pouches and heard the quiet rustling of that certain piece of paper in there, that the officiant had given them to take home. It was indeed the only tangible souvenir of soberly exchanged I Do's, save for a single photo that one of the host's guests had been nice enough to take with Scott's phone. No witnesses from their family or friends, no stinking green stuff in their suit jackets, no rings that neither of them would have worn a lot anyway thanks to their field duties ... No mushy music or fat white birds released into the sky ... Not even a slice of some far too sugary cake. And that part was more than alright. Scott had already had all that in the course of the whole drama that had been Jean and him even before her first demise at Alkali Lake. No need for repeat performances. But now that they were about to return home as if nothing had happened, Scott did feel a small sting of regret that there had not even been a couple of honest, heartfelt sentences to his now-husband earlier, about why today had felt so perfectly natural and right. Like something he'd wanted, instead of just something to be done for the show and for anyone but Jean and him, really, like that party with hundreds of guests at the mansion back then. Logan didn’t seem like he'd missed anything, but Scott suddenly realized that he didn’t want to let this rare day just for themselves end just yet. "Claws? What do you think about heading up North? You've been meaning to show me these parts you've been traveling before Liberty Island for a while."

"Now." Logan forgot that he'd just been about to light one of his obligatory cigars and stared at him over the edge of his zippo as if Scott had just grown red and blue scales and told him, Logan's freshly accepted new last name was Darkholme instead of Summers. "Are you asking me to go on a honeymoon, Slim?"

"Call it whatever you want. It's been more than two years since we went on a trip outside work is all I'm saying." Scott hurried to hide the treacherous blush on his cheeks by getting in the car but didn’t put the key in yet, nervously circling its ring on one fingertip instead. If Logan would say no, that would be entirely alright. Scott's desk at home was notoriously crumbling under the weight of everything that Charles' demise had left him in charge of anyway. Which was exactly why leaving all that administrative crap to his fellow staff members for a while sounded like heaven right now. "Besides, Ororo and Hank said they'd be fine if things here would take longer than expected."

"We're in our uniforms, Slim. I don’t got as much as a toothbrush on me." Logan was still bracing himself on the open passenger door as if he feared Scott would drive right off into the sunset if he sat down.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's gonna be a problem for a feral who's lived on the street for fifteen years. You know, we're in Canada. I heard they have grocery shops here. Fashion stores, even." Scott felt amused more than offended that his lover was being so reluctant about this. He'd known what he would get himself into falling in love with that rough-edged grump as they'd bonded over their shared grief after Alkali Lake. Arguments, diametrically differing opinions on everything from battle strategies to world politics, the occasional screaming match, and especially the fantastic make-up sex afterward were basically part of their relationship identity. The mere fact that they were working out so perfectly anyway proved they'd rightly embarked on this weird, risky adventure together back then. Celebrating that a little with a road trip which was one of their favorite shared hobbies as it was, listening to some good tune, having a couple of disgustingly unhealthy meals in the cheapest road joints possible, and checking in the most dubious motels night after night? As perfect as could get for the two of them. And Scott luckily knew by now how to make his stubborn boyfriend – his husband, Jesus, that thought would still need some time to get used to – see certain things his way. "Who knows, we might even come by an adult store or two. The good thing about hotel rooms?" He leaned over to the passenger seat to be able to look up at Logan with one eyebrow lewdly raised, licking his lips as he slowly eyed his lover from top to bottom, lingering on his midsection for just a second too long where he was pretty sure, the tight black leather of Logan's suit was about to get a little too tight, judging by Logan's slightly choppy breathing. "No nosy pupils with enhanced senses nearby and no immediate neighbors complaining about too-thin walls. Meaning, we can be as loud as we want."

Logan was so fast to get in the car beside him suddenly that it quietly rattled under his adamantium-enhanced weight. "Fine. What are we waiting for? Step on it, Slim."

Scott silently grinned to himself and did just that.

****

With Westchester briefly informed on the phone and no one there luckily seeming to suspect the real reason for Logan's and Scott's timeout, the shopping tour had gone as efficiently as expected as well. With the exception, of course, of an extra hour in said adult store that they'd deliberately entered separately, each leaving the shady one-story building with an inconspicuous brown bag of their own that didn’t reveal what delicious little surprises they held for the nights to come. And the first one of those was coming up in another hour or so already on the road if their electronic map wasn’t lying. Some acceptably clean spot by the roadside, judging by the customer reviews, where they wouldn’t have to listen to cockroach races all night but were very unlikely to be recognized by any non-existent high-profile guests for either their race or their public image. Just what they needed. Covering the miles in amicable silence, save for one of Logan's preferred classic rock discs in the player, Scott found he was really looking forward to relaxing together with his lover. For someone like him who needed well-laid-out plans, meticulous organization, and obsessive routines in everyday life to keep his body, his mind, and especially his gift under control, it had been a big step, letting Logan help him accept that not everything in life had to go according to firm schemes. And this … felt like one of the best of these rare decisions Scott had ever spontaneously made, ever since they'd brought him back at the time, after Phoenix, to a second life that he hadn’t been sure for a long while he deserved. It had been Logan, too, making it clear to Scott that being allowed to come back wasn’t about such ethereal moral questions. That all that counted was doing his best to help improve this world and not waste a single chance of finding something close to happiness in this new attempt at existence while he was at it. At least the latter was probably what they were up to right now. Without really thinking about it, Scott reached to his side to rest his hand on Logan's where it was unmoving on the instrument panel between them, shrugging in embarrassment when Logan snorted a smoke cloud at him. "Excess endorphins. Give me two days and I'll be back to normal."

"Hm." After a long squeeze, Logan let go of him, not quite unexpectedly, but made it a show to lean in closely and sniff at him exaggeratedly which promptly had a hint of heat rise under Scott's skin. Soon. "Nope, gotta disappoint you, Slim. No excess hormones. You're just a hopeless sap."

"Tell that to the people who keep yapping about the stick up my ass," Scott grumbled but quickly forgot about the little dig when Logan bent over to him even further for a kiss.

"Wasn’t complaining, was I?" Logan quickly backed away again, knowing exactly Scott wasn’t comfortable, not having his eyes on the street, even when it was a yawningly empty country road, with only tall oak trees left and right to see for miles. He teasingly patted Scott's hand on the stick, not quite reaching for it again though … That was until he turned his head back to the windshield and Scott saw his lover's narrow eyes suddenly go wide in the rear mirror, his hand immediately back on Scott's to slam that stick into parking position before Logan was even finished hissing out a warning. "Watch out!"

After years of working on one team with a feral, Scott had long stopped questioning such a tone of uncompromising certainty, even in situations when he couldn’t make out anything wrong whatsoever. Compared to someone like Logan, a normal mutant's senses, especially Scott's, thanks to his limited vision, would always be ridiculously inferior. He strongly doubted that his partner would have taken over the jeep from him just to avoid running some squirrel over, being so perfectly aware of exactly that dependency on control Scott had just been reminiscing about. Sadly, he already knew said control was lost for now before bringing his heel down on the brakes, years-long trained instincts of an avid speed racer and pilot kicking in as the car started to drift, dangerously close to the massive tree trunks lining the road. The telltale bangs and jerks of blown tires promptly said, they'd not been fast enough, avoiding the almost invisible trap on the road from whoever was trying to stop them. Scott had only his own instincts and muscle memory from countless simulations and similar attacks to thank for not crashing the damn jeep right against the next tree. Somehow, he managed to have it spin a few times only, the bumpy ride of the still slowing vehicle pressing both Logan and him painfully into their belts before they finally came to a halt. With his head still on that carousel and the pressure from those tremors throbbing behind his forehead, Scott needed a moment to blink his vision as free as his gift allowed, to notice they were back in the direction they'd been driving in and on the right side of the road. And that was where the good news ended.

More than a dozen burly shapes in unmarked black suits were approaching from afar, the menacing blinking of more than one huge weapon in the fading sunlight revealing, the attack had only just begun. Whoever was out to get them this time and had somehow found them in the middle of fucking nowhere – Scott made a frustrated mental note to check the car for trackers as he shook off the last disorientation with gritted teeth –, they were obviously ignorant to details like newlyweds' bliss and honeymoon peace.

His ever-simmering anger on the assholes of this damn world immediately rising to new levels, Scott let out a huff, shaking his head when Logan held out his VISOR from the glove box for him in a reflex long become routine between them in the field. Much as Scott appreciated it, taking his eyes off the damn surroundings even for a split second right now was indeed a very bad idea. He knew before he even saw one of the enemies in the distance raise something long and sharp high over his shoulder. One hand already on the control in the middle of the wheel that changed the car's everyday functions to battle mode, he took another split second to swipe over the button nearby that would activate auto repairs. The at least remotely soothing sound of suppressed vacuum and alien tech mechanics inside the ruined wheels revealed, the almost-crash at least hadn’t shredded all most crucial functions. Including, hopefully, the protection of the thrice-reinforced material shielding their ride from outside threats, but they couldn’t rely on that. Therefore, Scott was only too happy to follow Logan's next warning too, his partner having spotted the incoming projectile just like he had, and crouched down towards the door with his head low. Just in time before the ominous tearing and bursting of their windshield giving in sounded and a sharp-edged shower of glass rained down on Scott's back and side, on the back of his unprotected hand where immediately a sharp twinge arose. No time to look, to bother. So much for reinforced glass. At least Logan's perfectly right reaction had protected them from having shards all over their faces, too, and the cover allowed Scott to switch his glasses for his main weapon of defense, finally … Which would be of absolutely no use at all in this situation as he had to learn, sitting up again, his hand already on the control wheel of his VISOR to fire a first broad salvo at their quickly approaching enemies. Nothing was happening, except the sudden almost painful overload of brightness and color rushing in on his depowered eyes through the small opening of his VISOR sent yet another cruel stab through his brain. The worry for his partner was far worse though, growing by a thousand when Scott turned his head with a surprised hiss to look at whatever their enemies had thrown at them and saw a thin, long rod that had neatly pierced the backseat. Lodged between his partner and him, it blinked in a well-known, hated flash of red.

Inhibitor missile. There weren’t many hostile groups on this planet who had these kinds of weapons.

"Don't." Immediately catching on as well, Logan almost brutally reached for Scott's wrist when Scott tried to grab that damn thing to hurl it far from the car, get rid of the invisible radiation that rendered both of their gifts useless. "Such spears always got contact fuses. You pull that from where it hit, chances are this thing blows us both to pieces." His upper lip drawn back behind his teeth in a display of threatening loss of control, loud growls escaping his throat, Logan's hands were hard fists already but his claws stayed where they were. Experience had taught them painfully that without his healing factor, the blood loss from using his own main weapons thoughtlessly could easily take Logan prematurely out of a fight … And this was not something either of them needed when they were up against a whole Weapon X squad. "Stay put. I'll be right back. You keep your head down, Slim," Logan snapped at him before Scott had even opened his mouth to protest. "They're armed to their teeth. You don't even got some damn Kevlar on. I was promised honeymoon sex, I'm not carrying you out of here full of holes."

"And I'm not losing you to these assholes again. You know exactly they're not here for me. Stay on your ass, Claws," Scott shouted at him at least as pissed but not half as out of it. Not while there were still fortunately other ways to deal with all this than having to fear for his lover's life, freedom, and sanity once again. "I'm taking us out of here. You keep watching them. Tell me if they try anything funny. L.U.C.Y., status report."

Logan, visibly tempted to just jump out of the car anyway, froze with a look of bewilderment when the holo surface of the car's artificial intelligence came to live above the dashboard, a list of green or yellow arrows indicating, most of the car's other functions, too, were indeed still working, in spite of one window less and their tires only just being replaced by the spare set inside. As it dawned on him Scott wasn’t just being latently suicidal, ignoring a group of enemies with all kinds of hypermodern guns getting closer, but that he did have a plan that included far fewer bullets and blades for him to pry from Logan's body afterward, a weak grin appeared on Logan's lips. Along with the shadow of a bad conscience about his usual utter lack of interest in the X-Men's technology options that Scott had included even in their rides over the course of the years. Which in this case might be saving their asses. "You call it L.U.C.Y.?"

"Shut up and look like you're about to pounce them." Scott had to fight back a grin on his own. This was still potentially going south, but at least it would be fun. "Can't have them interfere." He'd rarely been more grateful before for a few very generous additional technical gifts from Stark Tower in the last few years since his resurrection in which not least the X-Men's competitive team had had a hand in. Tony's user surfaces were much easier for humans to navigate than the Shi’ar holo controls which in a situation like this when it was about seconds only, saved crucial time. Scott impatiently wiped his red-stained hand on his jeans, grimacing at the renewed pain before he swiped in another fast string of commands. With tight lips, from the corner of his eyes only, he watched Logan get up on his seat, half leaning out of the ruined window with his claws now threateningly out after all, more blood dripping over the hood's beige paint as his lover was clearly signaling their enemies that he had no intention of backing down and rolling over, just because his powers weren’t working as they should. It was a sight that shouldn’t be half as hot as it was right now. But making the best of every second also included, Scott supposed, committing a perfect view like of his lover's firm ass in tight jeans, for once undisturbed by the usual red of Scott's powers, to memory while the vehicle computer processed his commands. "We're good. Head down," he shouted when the warm female voice of his artificial assistant confirmed that they were ready to go. "All the way down. They're not gonna be happy, and we're not bulletproof right now," he added tightly, pulling Logan with him to cower behind the dashboard a second time. "Cover your ears. L.U.C.Y., engage." Not a second later, the car's external boxes sent a shrill sound, recorded from one of their possible future team members, across all of the nearby surroundings, hurtful to their own ears, too, in spite of protection.

But not half as much as to their enemies who were immediately stopped in their approach. Screams of agony filled the air, another couple of badly aimed projectiles hitting the jeep. Only primitive bullets this time, either stopped easily by the reinforced bodywork or hitting high above their heads, getting stuck in the robust leather of their seats.

And that was when the autopilot got them back going. The moment they'd passed a sharp turn a couple of feet ahead, the prepared hyperdrive mode was activated, and the jeep left their enemies far behind before the soldiers had even gotten back to their feet. A far too merciful hit for these motherfuckers actually, as Scott bitterly thought when he scrambled to sit up again once they were far enough from the hostiles, relieved to take the wheel again. Another day, in another kind of confrontation he wouldn’t have hesitated to turn this thing back around and get rid of these people, making as many prisoners as possible for questioning before giving them to S.H.I.E.L.D. for further prosecution … But a fight against Weapon X never went without casualties. He was just as little interested in spending their honeymoon on some sick bay as Logan was … or worse. Today, they'd been lucky, honestly.

And Scott was obviously not the only one harboring such gloomy thoughts. Once he'd parked the car in some well-hidden clearing at a safe distance from the site of attack and L.U.C.Y.'s external sensors confirmed, there weren’t any enemies or hostile vehicles anywhere in the air or on the ground, Logan was in a remarkable hurry to leave the car for a cigar. He also had the badly hidden excuse of wanting to provisionally repair the ruined windshield with some transparent cover from the trunk.

Scott let him go for the moment because knowing when to give his lover some space was something he'd learned early on in this relationship. He used the time to disinfect and bandage the cut on his hand and, with it somewhat properly usable again, find a couple of tools from the glove box. With the necessary silence and focus on the task, it was a piece of cake, taking apart the enemies' weapon, deactivating the dangerous explosive inside along with the inhibitor function. Only moments later, Scott could feel the usual pressure and sting behind his forehead returning that announced, his gift was back. He closed his eyes with a sigh somewhere between decades-old resignation and relief before slipping his glasses back on, the last of the crisis being taken care of, and for once without any damage to speak of. At least not any outside one. "We should get going," he said hesitatively when Logan made no move to come back to the car from where he was leaning against some tree, the makeshift repair long done.

It didn’t escape Scott that his lover's hand was still slightly shaking though the wounds from his claws were now closed, and that Logan was still a good deal too pale under his rugged beard. Encounters with Weapon X tended to do that, and Scott had little interest in risking yet another one today.

"They could still be nearby."

"Which is why you should leave," Logan said flatly, almost coldly, to Scott's shock, staring down at his cigar as if he'd never seen one before, just to avoid looking Scott in the eye. And suddenly Scott felt like he couldn’t breathe. "Drive to the nearest town, call the others. Have them get you with the jet. I'll take care of these bastards. See if they got a base nearby, tear it to the ground. I want as many of them gone as possible. I'll be fine; don’t look at me like that. Powers are long back."

"Until these guys shoot the next inhibitor spear right through your guts, yeah. Not happening. Seeing that one time still haunts my dreams." Scott wearily rubbed his eyes behind his glasses and got out of the car, with a mental note about a painkiller or two in his immediate future when he used the wrong hand for the handle. Definitely not like he'd pictured this afternoon to go … And yet he was glad that Logan wasn’t entirely shutting down or just running like he would have in the past, actually giving Scott a chance to get through to his thick head. Emma would have called that progress or something. "We talked about this often enough, Logan. Destroying a couple of their pawns and single locations doesn’t do shit with an underground organization that large. Weapon X is a project that we've been working on taking down for years, and not only us. One day, they'll be gone, I promised you that." Leaning against the tree opposite Logan's, Scott reached out for another of these encouraging squeezes of his lover's hand, not too surprised when Logan immediately pulled away once more. This wouldn’t be that easy, not after a fight like this. "Until then, I refuse to let these assholes ruin our lives. We got more fun plans this week than bathing in blood and biting a couple of bullets."

"Maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake," Logan answered even more quietly, his shoulders tightly drawn in when Scott drew a sharp, hurt breath. "Look, I'm sorry, Slim. You know how crazy I am about your stupid ass. But you almost just got blown to bits because I had mercenaries on my neck. I always got mercenaries on my neck. You'll never be safe as long as you you're with me."

"Safe." It took a lot not to get pissed enough to shoot his partner right in the dick just on principle for this sudden bout of overprotectiveness. Seeing that haunted look in his beautiful hazel eyes when Scott slowly stepped closer, resting his hands left and right of Logan's head on that trunk, helped at least keep his voice to a low hiss. "I'm being hunted by an all-powerful mad scientist obsessed with my mutation every fucking year for my birthday. I'm fighting shapeshifters, ferals thrice your size, and element masters on a weekly basis, with just a bit of lightning show from my eyes, ever since I was fifteen, for a humanity that would rather lock me up or slit my throat than thank me for it. I'm getting beaten up when I'm entering a damn booze store if I'm not careful because every fucking bigot on this planet knows my mug thanks to these damn glasses. My ex-wife is a possessed almighty cosmic fire demon that might or not come back anytime to rip me right back into particles. My ex-girlfriend is a powerful telepath thirsting for world dominance and rolling for a new moral compass as a first option every other month. Please, Logan, do tell me again how you can get me in danger."

Logan tiredly raised the hand not holding his cigar to Scott's bloodstained shirt, clenching it around those ruined buttons, keeping him on a few last inches of distance left, visibly fighting himself. "You don’t get it, Scooter. None of these people are Weapon X. Nothing of all this …" He paused, struggling with words, when Scott only raised an eyebrow at him, still not ready to let something come between them, just when they'd been closer than ever today. "Of all the shit shows that you and I saw out there, these people are the only ones who ever managed to get inside my head. They controlled me once, Scott, don't you get what that means? They have the power to make me the one thing I'm terrified of. And if that ever happens again, if they manage to lock my mind up again … Then you know where they'll send me for the first kill."

"Probably, yes," Scott nodded calmly, a bitter smile on his lips when Logan quietly gasped, obviously not having expected him to be so sober about this worst possibility of all.

"And what exactly will you do then when I'm standing in front of your house, threatening our children?" Logan urged, desperation in his voice as he tried in vain to get himself to shove Scott away, his hand tensing again and again without the necessary force. He couldn’t, as much as he wanted to, as afraid as he was of this worst-case scenario, and that alone let Scott know, they had made the right choice today.

He leaned in without hesitation to capture Logan's lips in a soft kiss, glad when his lover made no more move to pull away. "Then I'll do exactly what I did with those assholes back there before you can even come inside."

"Is that a promise?" Only now, that veil of panicked concern lifted a little from Logan's distorted features.

"If you need one. This is the day for oaths, isn’t it?" Scott asked cynically. "So here you have another one: Once I've shot you down and I got you knocked out, trussed up and hooked to an IV of narcotics, I'll take you to Emma so she can deprogram you. And if Emma isn’t around I'll find someone else to get the job done. Ever until you're back with me. If you think I'm ever letting that cute ass of yours walk away from me again, you got another think coming, James Summers."

Logan winced a little, very obviously not used to that new official name yet that his documents would soon sport, but when an askew grin curled on his lips, it seemed sincere. "You're fantasizing about my ass an awful lot for a guy covered in blood with a butchered hand."

"I don't need my hand to eat you alive," Scott answered sweetly before leaning down for another kiss that had nothing of the innocent nature of the last one though, his body instinctively pressing Logan's smaller, broader one against the rough bark as his tongue deeply invaded Logan's mouth, tasting the last of adrenaline, ash and that expensive bourbon from the ceremony earlier. A hum of anticipation came from his lips when he lost himself to the fantasy of all the things they'd be getting up to once they'd arrive at that motel. Starting with indeed a very badly needed shower hopefully taken together. And once Scott would have Logan splayed out on some terrible rose petal-covered mattress all naked and flushed … The alluring image in his mind turned into an unexpected rush of energy in his veins as Logan used the moment of him not being on alert, to take the lead.

His hand on Scott's shirt slipping between those buttons and easily ripping them apart for a first greedy caress, a harsh grip found his behind, kneading in that hard, slow way, clever fingertips already slipping between his legs from behind that always had Scott boneless within seconds.

His head suddenly spinning even more than after that crash earlier, he moaned against Logan's lips, the skeptical voice inside his head very quiet that pointed out that they were in public, as Logan impatiently worked his hand under Scott's jeans and underwear. Fuck that. L.U.C.Y.'s scanners were still activated and programmed to warn about any life sign in the immediate surroundings. Not everything needed to happen in proper order indeed. Distracted by the growing hardness not only under his own pants, Scott willingly let himself be walked back the few steps to their car, both his hands buried in Logan's hair, panting, only stopping to frown when the back of his thighs hit the car's hood because he'd assumed Logan had the backseat in mind, or maybe the truck bed … He should know his passionate lover better by now, especially when they were both pumped full of battle adrenaline and in dire need to forget what had almost just happened back there on that road.

Logan smoothly going to his knees in front of him already, ripping his pants open, such considerations were forgotten for good. A hot velvety mouth was wrapped around Scott's cock without much ado, without any games that out here, in spite of all goodwill to let his hair down a little, didn’t have a place.

His hands tightening on Logan's unruly hair, Scott threw his head back with a turned-on shout when his lover took him right in all the way, swallowing around him greedily. A clear gesture of an elbow at the inside of his thighs nudged his legs further apart, the assault of soft wetness along with a harsh grip around his tightening balls far too overwhelming for now to even think of returning the favor.

The telltale sound of some cap opening provoked the memory of leaving that adult shop earlier, of Scott seeing Logan pocket something from the corner of his eyes … Of course, the sly bastard had had planned something for this first day of the rest of their lives together.

Scott scrambled to reach back for the hood, trembling, bracing himself there because he was pretty sure he would have hurt Logan, holding on to him as the beloved touch of clever, slick fingertips found his tense cheeks, going between them just as purposefully as the rest of this little unexpected encounter shaped out to be. After all these nights spent together, Logan needed less than a minute before he had Scott push down against two thick, quickly thrusting fingers with hardly suppressed moans, writhing on the cool, hard surface, the repeated firm pressure against his most sensitive spot inside soon making him leak thick white into the heavenly suction of Logan's mouth. The beautiful light of the descending sun in the sky was a dear, fresh memory beyond what Scott could make out from behind his glasses when he leaned his head back out of breath, his nails scraping over the paint as he tried to keep himself from getting too carried away. "Fuck … Logan … Please …"

"On it, Slim." With one smooth motion, Logan was back standing before him, grabbing his hips, his arm, in an alluringly easy display of strength to flip him around before Scott had taken as much as one breath to suggest something maybe less out in the open …

If he was being honest, even a few steps to the back of the car would have been far too much right now. With his lover's large, strong hands on his hips, he willingly raised them when he felt the oiled touch of something thick throbbing between his cheeks. An uncontrolled groan came from his lips when that pressure grew, slowly enough but without stopping until he had to bury his face against his elbow to stifle his noises, his body shaking from that perfect sensation of being filled so thoroughly. With Logan's hand back on his own raging erection, shielding him from unpleasant bruises from the car hood thanks to his lover's harsh, quick thrusts, it was less than half an embarrassing minute before Scott spilled all over his lover's hand with his name on his lips, one hand so tightly around a wiper that he almost ripped it off, his muscles clenching down so firmly once more that he could feel Logan empty himself deep inside him almost at the same moment. So. That was what they called consummating a marriage when a feral was involved.

*****

"I still think it might be better if we went home." After checking in, getting sufficiently clean, and with a few carbs from the truck stop on the way in their stomachs, Logan at least approached the subject of their honeymoon a lot more rationally than in the woods earlier. It was obvious he'd used the half an hour for a smoke alone outside that he'd been asking Scott for, to think. The sigh on his lips when he sat down on the bed next to Scott sounded honestly unhappy. "With that wreck of a car, we're not exactly inconspicuous, you know."

"I just checked." Scott held up his phone and showed Logan a spot on the maps program he'd marked, not five minutes from here. "Garage to rent. I already made reservations. I'll have this baby back to factory default within a day, don’t worry. And we'll be all alone, so you can spend that time ogling my ass. Or give me a hand. Whatever you prefer. So once we got tired of watching the Red Sox fucking up, we'll be ready to move on to the next place."

"Burgers, baseball, and shop, huh?" Logan remarked with half a smirk, easily convinced. "Not exactly what most people usually do after tying the knot, I guess."

"Good thing, too. Most people, I don’t want to be married to." Scott itched to pull Logan in for a kiss but he still had his hand under the blanket, holding a certain something that he'd been preparing in these minutes alone, and he hadn’t quite mustered up the guts yet to take it out.

"Speaking of it, Slim …" To his surprise, it was Logan who suddenly fumbled with something in the pocket of his brand-new shirt. The shitty lighting of the run-down room made it hard to tell, just like the obstacle of Scott's glasses, but he could almost have sworn, his dear husband was just about to blush. "Talked to Hank when you were in the shower. Had him finish something he and I were talking about for a while. King Kong got Piotr's kid sister to bring it while I was outside. No freaking out now, please, this is just … Things were a little too close for my taste earlier." After another deep breath, Logan slowly opened his fist and presented Scott with a broad white gold ring, sized to fit his thumb and slightly thicker than normal jewelry as Scott immediately noticed, with his mouth ajar, when Logan laid the thing down between them. "It's got a transmitter inside that can be connected to your VISORs, to open them. Hank's also working on a version of glasses for you that can open similarly to a VISOR. He'll be done by the time we get home. I don't ever want to see you take a bullet just because you're wearing the wrong damn thing on your eyes or because you can't reach your control wheel."

"And here I was certain you'd gut me for the idea of ... uh … this." His hand no longer trembling, Scott finally raised it once he could trust his voice again, to show Logan the set of dog tags he'd found on their shopping trip earlier and engraved in those last thirty minutes alone, with the help of his blast, so that they now sported both Logan's new name and today's date. "Just a reminder," he added hesitantly when Logan took the pendant from him without a word, slowly turning it between his fingertips, lost in memory about the people, the place where he'd last gotten a thing like this. A thing that for so long had been a symbol of hope for his quest for his lost past, until he'd thrown it at Stryker's feet by Alkali Lake … It was something that Scott hoped could become such a beacon for Logan's endless, restless search again. Including the discreet reminder that he was no longer forced to go on it alone. "You don’t need to wear them if you don’t … I just thought …"

When Logan shut him up with a long, tender kiss, they took only just enough time to put on their respective improvised wedding jewelry before being all over each other for a second time today. There was no need for any more words this night.

*******************************************************************************

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