#d:logan

logan-frick replied to your post:Being home and in my own bed is the best thing in...

Welcome back!!

Wow, Alec, stop being such a homophobe. I can sense it in the air.

I’ll Make a Man out of You: My character decides to try and shape up yours.

Setting: Aspen, 2116

Characters: Rebekah and Logan. Mentions of others.

“You’re just like Klaus. I don’t know why they let you stay with them,” he told her on a snowy afternoon in Aspen when all of the hybrids had gone skiing. Not a fan of gliding down mountains, Rebekah had foregone the excursion to stay at the lodge they’d rented for the months of November and December. She’d been baking all morning and was mixing up batter for a Sacher torte when she’d heard the voice and, as expected, when she turned, she saw Logan drowning his sorrows and regrets in a bottle of expensive alcohol. He looked like hell. Blood around his mouth, a pair of boxers barely concealed by a velvet robe that looked almost a century old, it was obvious that Logan had just gotten out of bed.

This year, it had been Rebekah who had foregone Mikaelson Family Christmas – and in Ibiza, no less. After about 100 years doing her brother’s bidding, Logan had rejoined the hybrids in October, and the blonde Original had agreed to spend a couple weeks before Thanksgiving through New Years with the rest of the family. She’d told her brothers she wanted a romantic holiday season with Nathan and they said nothing. Though she was sure that Nik had an idea of where she was, he never asked her. She loved him for that.

Unfortunately, as Rebekah knew all too well, spending 100 years with or near Niklaus was not without its hard times. He might allow his family freedom and he might have let Nathan go when she’d asked, but she had always known he would never stop fresh feeding or killing when it suited him. He wouldn’t give up the other hybrids and the blonde assumed that Niklaus’ refusal to help others had been passed onto Logan. As it was, he’d come back worse than Stefan in his days of being The Ripper.

For the past month that they’d been there, Logan had done absolutely nothing but make snarky assumptions and nasty comments. His moral compass now (perhaps permanently) skewed, they’d had to clean up, heal, and compel more young women than they’d expected. He’d missed Thanksgiving entirely, spending it in his room in an alcohol-induced, bloody haze that had left Melanie, strong stoic Melanie, in tears. Blood had stained the bearskin rugs and for the most part, they were just happy that he hadn’t actually killed anyone. His days were spent sleeping and drinking more alcohol than a human body could handle and while the hybrids might have been willing to excuse his behavior for the time being, might be willing to think that he would snap out of it, Rebekah wasn’t so generous.

“Excuse me?” she asked, her eyebrow arched as she continued to mix up the batter in the stand mixer, taking the time to grease a pan. The sunlight caught her engagement ring and she had a brief moment of satisfaction as the light reflected into his eyes and he winced.

Logan stood, walking towards her in that intimidating way that she assumed he’d learned from Niklaus, but had yet to perfect.

“You’re just going to sell them all out to Klaus when it suits you,” he said, taking another swig directly from the bottle this time. Rebekah didn’t bother answering him, her anger rising as she continued what she was doing.

“You’re just like him. You know he hasn’t stopped killing. You know he hasn’t given up on us hybrids. He’s going to come looking for me.” He was trying to goad her now. She bit the inside of her cheek. “He’s going to come looking for all of them. They ran. He doesn’t tolerate running. And instead of helping them and hiding them, you’re here. Baking a cake that no one even needs.”

Logan took another sip from the bottle before dropping the empty one into the trash. He opened a fresh bottle of her favorite bourbon and poured himself a glass this time, his smile predatory.

“Eventually he’ll decide he wants his loyal sister back with him instead of playing house. And you’ll sell them all out, won’t you? Because that’s what you Originals do. You like to pretend you’re different from him. But at the end of the day, you’d sell the whole world out for each other.” He finished his drink in one gulp. “It’s just a matter of time. I wonder who will be first.”

“You know nothing,” she finally spat out.

“I know you’re too busy making googly eyes at Captain America to know what anyone’s done. To know what your brother wants. To know that he’s getting bored of his normal life. And what Klaus wants, he gets.”

As he poured himself another drink, Rebekah ripped a leg off of a kitchen chair and pushed it through his stomach, ignoring the blood that seeped out onto her hand, settling between the diamonds on her wedding band. The glass dropped to the floor, shattering, its pieces dancing across the room as the liquor seeped through the bloodstained rug that they’d yet to clean.

“Grow the bloody hell up,” she threatened, her voice growing lower as she looked at him in the eye. “You know nothing about me, you know nothing about my relationship with my brother, and you know nothing about them. You abandoned them when they needed you. You stayed, knowing Niklaus was a psychopath, knowing that you would fall deeper into his spell. And when you came back, your behavior didn’t exactly improve. So don’t you bloody dare question me. I’ve more than earned my place in this family.”

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. But Rebekah wasn’t done.

“You sit around all day, you drink yourself into a stupor, compel young girls to come back so you can feed off of them, and then you have the nerve to tell me I’m like Klaus.” She twisted it, ignoring the breathy sound he made.

“Look in the bloody mirror.” She pulled the chair leg out and then shoved it through his shoulder.

“You Mikaelsons are all the same,” he ground out, biting his lip to avoid making a sound of pain. She ignored his invective, her eyes boring into his. 

“This ends now.” Her eye had a predatory gleam in it as she twisted the wood. She’d always been good at getting a man’s attention. 

"You are going to go upstairs and take a shower. You’re going to shave that abomination you call a beard off your face. You’re going to put on clean clothes and burn anything that’s stained with blood. You’re going to come back down here, clean up your bloody mess from last night, and pretend that you care about contributing to this family.” Her eyes flashed as she spoke, punctuating the control she put into her words. She twisted the makeshift stake again. “And it had better be convincing.”

“You are going to apologize for making Melanie cry herself to sleep each night and you are going to stop bringing young girls back here to feed from. You’re going to show everyone some respect. And you’re going to stop drinking my bloody bourbon like it’s ginger ale.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you understand?”

He was stoic for a moment, his eyes giving nothing away. And then he gave a brief jerk of his head, which she took as acquiescence. She pulled the stake out and drove it back in.

“And I haven’t been a Mikaelson for twenty bloody years.” She pulled it out for good this time, throwing it to the side.

That was all a part of the adventure. It was cool just hanging out with a guy in a friendly way, dude. I look forward to when we do it again.

I have the urge to have a shot.