Kurt tugged absently at the neck of his black sweater as his eyes drank in the sight of the man eating breakfast across from him. Logan's hair was a mass of dark tangles, an unschooled mess of ebon locks that shadowed his face as he bent over his plate. Kurt desperately wanted to reach across and finger a black strand.

Still, he couldn't quite lift his hand. He felt nervous and his nervousness was physically evident as his tail flicked erratically back and forth. The intimacy of their night together still hung heavy in the kitchen, like a thick warmth, but Kurt felt a weight on his chest. It was as though he was reliving his first crush all over again and, as with all such crushes, he felt a maddening sensation that this was just too perfect, that at any moment Logan would look up at him and say...

"Somethin wrong with the food?"

Yellow eyes blinked shut in surprise, opening again to meet questioning, and annoyed, blue.

Kurt dutifully picked up his fork and popped a heaping bite of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, then beamed a winning smile at Logan. "Nein! Of course not! They're the best eggs I've ever tasted. Why, Kitty always butchers scrambled eggs. And Moira, ach, she doesn't even know how to crack the shell and Pete...Mein Gott, Pete..."

He was cut off as a large hand arched out to settle on his own blue-furred appendage. Kurt looked dazedly down at the two hands, then back up at Logan.

Logan was smiling. Actually, it was more of a smirk. And his eyes were dancing, wild fall morning eyes.

"You're babbling, darlin'," the graveled voice growled out.

Kurt swallowed, lightly, then managed a toothy grin. "Ach, well, I have been told that's one of my strong points."

Logan snorted, withdrawing his hand with a light caress. Not commenting, he picked up his fork and began eating again.

Kurt didn't move to take another bite. He watched in mild amazement as Logan finished shoveling in his second plate-full. Faintly, his brain was trying to add up just how much the man consumed every day and multiply that exponentially (if that was how you did such things) to come up with a final weight. Then, his brain pointed out that Logan couldn't be that heavy because he, Kurt Wagner, had not been squashed flat during the night's...events. Registering that, his brain then sent out the signal for a solid blush, the heat immediately flushing beneath azure fur.

Suddenly, Kurt realized that Logan was looking at him again.

"Got somethin on your mind, Kurt? Or, are you just gonna keep sitting there staring at me and lettin perfectly good food go to waste."

Kurt opened his mouth to offer a glib 'nein', but found that he couldn't form any words. The blush spread more. Finally, he coughed in an attempt to clear his throat and force his brain to work. "Well, not that you mention it...I...this is just...."

"Strange?"

"Ach, nein! Not strange! It's good!," Kurt immediately protested. Then, cocking his head, he added sheepishly on second thought, "Okay, it's strange. But, it's a good strange."

Logan nodded, then stood, picking up his plate and moving to place it in the sink. The hiss of running water broke the silence in the room. Then, Logan spoke, his harsh, deep voice strained to softer tones. "It's probably going to take you a while to get used to things, Elf."

Kurt felt his heart skip a beat at the use of the old, far too friend-like nickname.

Then, Logan turned, piercing him with those amazing eyes. He moved back towards the table, his body moving in lithe silence, his entire form a study in control. Stopping in front of Kurt, he placed both his hands on the other man's shoulders. Then, he leaned down and kissed Kurt's forehead.

Kurt shivered at the gentleness of that touch. He had never known Logan could be so gentle. The man was such a mystery, such a spirit of contrasts, achingly fierce at one moment, soft as an orchid petal the next.

Logan pulled back, hands still resting on Kurt's shoulders. For a long moment, they remained still, staring into each others eyes.

Blue eyes flashed against yellow ones and Kurt read their meaning, read it so effortlessly because he knew this man, his best friend. **Do not ask me to give anything I'm not ready to give** those eyes said **Do not cage me. Let it be as it is and do not cage me or you will lose me**

With a soft release of breath, Kurt leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Logan's firm stomach. He understood. He would try to stay calm.

A rough palm stroked his hair, fingers tangling in blue tendrils. A thumb traced the arch of his ear and he shivered deliciously, emitting a noise very like a giggle at the ticklish sensation. Yellow eyes closed and Kurt just rested there, feeling the firm rise and fall of Logan's breath, drinking in the heat of that body.

From above him a voice offered a concession. "You can call whenever you want, darlin'."

Kurt drew back, lifted his face to stare up at Logan, yellow eyes taking in the unshaven stubble, the still unbrushed hair, the chap of lips that had spent too much time kissing. He stood gracefully, breathing out the softest of 'danke's. Then, chapped blue lips came against full red ones and Kurt felt the shiver down his spine, almost as thrilling as the first time.

Logan returned the kiss passionately, teasingly, but broke it off just as things were becoming heavy. A smirk met Kurt's annoyed pout and he pushed the blue man back into his chair. A broad hand ruffled blue hair again and he said, in that graveled, commanding voice he did so well, "Eat yer breakfast."

Kurt laughed, the sound coming ripe to his own ears. "Ja, herr Logan! Whatever you say, mein fuhrer..."

Logan shot him a warning look and Kurt obediently started eating. The eggs were slightly cold, but he ate them all, dutifully.

Blue eyes stayed firm on him throughout the meal and a feeling of intense happiness spread through Kurt. It no longer seemed to matter that Kitty was coming to take him half-a-world away. It didn't seem to matter that he didn't exactly have a definition for…this. It didn't seem to matter that the was gay, that one day soon he was going to have to tell more of his friends, that one day soon he was going to have to wonder if there would be a 'we' when referring to Logan and himself and that he'd have to tell his friends about that too. Nothing seemed to matter but the warmth in the room and the fact that he'd been granted permission to call if he needed to.

Kurt finished his meal, raising happy eyes to meet blue ones. "Really, the best breakfast I've had in years, Liebschen."

Logan snorted in amusement at that. "Yeah, I should tell Kitty that. She'd probably beat you up. And, if I mentioned what you said about her eggs..."

Kurt gaped at Logan in mock horror. "Nein! You wouldn't!"

"You wanna bet?"

Logan reached out a hand to stroke just beneath the collar of Kurt's sweater. Kurt winced slightly as a finger brushed across bruised flesh. "Besides," Logan continued, "She could do it and nobody'd notice. The bruises don't show up."

**Danke, Mein Gott, for that** Kurt thought to himself, suddenly imagining the scene in which he'd have to explain just how he'd gotten such strategic markings on him.

Kurt looked up at Logan, a small smile crossing his lips. "You don't have to worry about bruises, Liebschen," he pointed out.

"Lucky me," Logan countered before grinning wickedly. "But, I'm gonna go take a shower before Kitty gets here. Wanna see how long you can make a bruise last on me?"

Kurt was up in an instant, not even attempting to hide the excitement in his face. His tail twined lightly around Logan's calf and Kurt silently said another thankful prayer for the absence of any fellow X-person that morning. They were blissfully alone and soon would be more blissfully alone.

"Ach, I thought you'd never ask!" he replied, following Logan out, leaving his dishes behind to be tended to by the unlucky person who happened upon them first.