Hey all! So I kind of can't believe that it's been three years since I've posted anything on here… I'm sorry! Thank you all for being so patient with me and this story, I kind of fell out of writing it, and then life kind of took over and I actually forgot about this for a long time. But kind of like how this first got birthed, I was laying awake and couldn't get to sleep, having just watched Days of Future Past (how awesome is that movie by the way?!) and I remembered I used to really enjoy writing this story… Queue me desperately trying to remember my old account and password, and hey presto! I'm back! I forgot how much I love Logan and Scott together!

So, long story short… I'm so sorry for the humongous hiatus, but I really hope you enjoy this new chapter. I'm really sorry if it's not up to scratch, it's been such a long time since writing anything like this, I'm actually really nervous about putting it up online. I really hope you like it.

Summary: Logan goes flying. He doesn't like it.

My stomach lurched uncontrollably. Queue another sharp turn, and my stomach jolted again. Fuck. I hated flying. We were up in the air in the little jet (aka my personal torture device and worst nightmare combined), with fucking Jean flying the damn thing.

She knew that I hated flying. She knew that I hated it when she did that sharp turn thing, or when she went upside down, or did anything vaguely dangerous. My jaw was tense, my stomach tight, my heart beating a mile a minute… There was absolutely no threat whatsoever in the air with us; this was a routine flight, on the way back from helping a distressed mutant and control the situation. There was absolutely no danger, and yet Jean was still lurching and spiralling all over the damn place. Now I know that I've never been one for the "safe option", I know that, at times, some of my actions could be perceived as a little "reckless" (understatement of the century) – but this… this was torture!

"Logan, you okay?"

That gentle voice, the sweet, concerned tone, brought me out of my head and back to reality in one joyful second. To my left, Scott was looking at me from behind that red visor with worry and confusion.

I didn't quite trust my voice not to come out in a little squeak – something I could not risk happening with Storm and Jean in the jet as well – my whole body felt tense and uneasy, my throat included. I just nodded.

This was so fucking embarrassing; I was never scared. I was fearless. I was the bloody Wolverine for goodness sake! I was not scared of anything, least of all flying. No one else was batting an eyelid, Storm was bemusedly smiling out the window, Jean was smirking as if she knew exactly what she was doing by jerking the tiny little jet all over the place, and Scott was perfect (as ever).

He leaned a little closer, straining against the seat belt that strapped him in place, to come a little closer to my ear. "I don't understand…" He frowned, keeping his voice very low, so only I could hear, "What's got you so riled up?"

I looked into his eyes for a split second, about so answer him – when the jet lurched again, everyone fell forward in their seats sharply, the seat belts straining, I could feel the plane straining as it battled through turbulence.

"Woah, Jean, you okay?" Storm's voice sounded anxiously, "You want me to clear the clouds a little bit?"

I turned on Storm, "Do you even have to fucking ask?" I growled, giving her a full on death-stare, to which she looked a little taken a back, which I should have probably felt a little guilty about. Oh well. Scott would no doubt make me apologise later, so I didn't feel too bad. "Whatever, just do it."

"Logan, play nice," Jean smirked in the front.

I tried to relax. I tried to tell myself it was fine. I tried to slow my heartbeat and took a deep breath, Come on, cool it, I reprimanded myself.

I looked down and saw my hand, gripping onto Scott's, our fingers intertwined on the arm rest. I must have jumped and felt for his touch in the turbulence automatically. Not usually one for public displays of affection – despite all the drama (my mind flashed back to the love potion, or Jean's blushing face as she walked in on us that night), Scott still liked to keep it pretty cool in front of everyone else – I understood Scott's surprised expression. Still, I did not relax my grasp on his hand; I squeezed tighter.

"Logan, what's wrong?" Scott whispered, concerned, "The mission went fine, we'll be home in no time, there's nothing to worry about…" A frown flitted across his beautiful features.

I shook my head, "It's nothing, Slim, forget about it." I mumbled.

A sardonic smirk tugged the edges of Scott's mouth upwards, "Are you really that scared of flying?"

"I'm not scared!" I retorted immediately. Crap. Didn't mean to sound like a scorned twelve year old there. Oh well, I had bigger things on my mind right now. I was freaking petrified. Each swerve, each bump, each noise… they all made my heart hammer uncontrollably, and there was this weird feeling in my chest, like my lungs couldn't get enough air in them, or something. These were things I'd rarely experienced in my life, things I didn't really know how to handle – things that I wanted to put an end to. "You know what, just drop it, okay?"

"Logan, I just - "

"Just fucking leave it. It's nothing."

I didn't mean to sound so angry… I saw a flash of hurt flit across Scott's face at my growl, before he straightened up, leaning back into his seat, pulling his hand out of mine in a gentle but firm movement, away from me.

Great, so as well as the impending fear of doom that this death-mobile (the jet) evoked, I now had to contend with the waves of guilt crashing down over me for hurting Scott's feelings. He didn't understand, this plane, this flight –

"We're almost home," Jean's voice sounded from the front of the plane.

I tore my eyes away from Scott's now calmly cool (Slim's version of pissed off), to the plane window – where the clouds were hurtling past, and the glimpses of the ground were getting closer and closer. Crap. This is the worst bit – going down.

I closed my eyes and felt my hand jump to grab Scott's again, however this time I fought the impulse and just waited until we were on the ground.

"Hey, I'm sorry."

Logan's mumble of an apology sounded from behind me. I looked up from my desk at the front of my empty classroom, to see Logan in full on sulk-mode, leaning at the edge of the doorway, looking decidedly miserable.

I shrugged, looking back down to the papers I'd been marking in a bid to keep away from our shared room, even if just for a few hours to get some head space, "Logan, you don't have to apologise, it's cool."

"No, it's not," Logan stepped over the threshold.

That's right. It wasn't. I loved Logan, he's got this heat, this attraction, this pull that makes it nigh impossible to be apart from him. However… that same heat, the animosity, his volatile nature, it was sometimes a little difficult to be around. I've always been the boy scout, the one who keeps his cool, the one who wants to talk and discuss their feelings… and Logan is, well, Logan. He's not like that, and I love him for that. It's just hard to get constantly shot down sometimes when all you try to do is help. I'd never really seen Logan so tense over nothing, and flying has never really been an issue that he's talked about before, all I wanted was to make sure he was okay. But, I told myself, I knew Logan. He'd never want to discuss something like that with Jean and Storm around.

All these feelings floated around in the air between us, hot and heavy, in the evening summer air.

"Logan, it's fine," I tried for a smile.

"No," Logan was standing in front of my desk now, looking at me with a somewhat torn expression. "It's not. I," He paused, "I shouldn't have snapped at you. In the plane."

I have to admit, I was slightly taken aback – this wasn't like Logan, to admit defeat so easily, "It's really okay," I said softly.

"I'm sorry, Slim, I didn't mean to snap," He was suddenly by my side, walking round from the front of the desk, bridging the gap between us and putting his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me close in a warm embrace.

"I know," I smiled into his chest.

"It's just, you don't understand.." He said gruffly, still not letting me move from his arms.

"What is it I don't understand?" I asked, curious.

"I was really scared," He laughed, sounding more like his normal self, "Like, really fucking scared. I felt like my heart was going to give out or something." He pulled back, sitting on the edge of the desk.

"Okay," I grinned, all the tension having seeped away from the room as soon as Logan had hugged me, "One question. Promise not to snap at me…"

"I can't promise that, depends on how stupid your question is," He said with his signature smile, "I might have no choice."

"You're power is to heal yourself," I emphasised the words, laughing slightly, "You literally can't die! What on earth could you be scared of, up in the air? I don't get it!"

I was expecting some flirty response or put down, or more laughter, or for him to just shake the question off, and deflect it. But instead, his expression changed. He looked sad. "I wasn't worried about me," He said softly. "I was worried about the person sitting next to me. I can heal, whatever, but your bones can break. Jean was flying that thing all over the place, I was scared. It was the first time we'd flown together, I didn't know I was going to be so scared."

I wasn't expecting that. Stunned into silence, overwhelmed with emotion, I stood up and bridged the gap between us once more, capturing his lips in a kiss that said more than I, the boy scout who always wanted to talk about his feelings, ever could.

Hope you like it! I don't know whether any of you still actually read this thing anymore, I know it's been forever – but I'd love to hear what you think! Please leave me a review!

I'm feeling really rusty, like I said, it's been a while since I've written anything like this – so please leave me a request you'd like to see! I need ideas!

Hopefully see you soon! x