#flumenveritatis

               “It should be us.” Logan looks to the television; registered heroes carry the coffin. The supers Steve fought for what he believed, carry his fucking coffin. It tears Logan up, worse than claws. He inhales, and says what he really means. “It should be me, not–”

               Danny reaches for him a second too late; Logan’s glass breaks. The tv shatters, a bullet in the pane. Offline lines read around the fractures of the screen. Yet there’s still a piece of the funeral playing on most of the screen. Tony Stark’s grief stricken face lights a fire in Logan’s chest. He screams, all but delirious, as he jabs an accusing finger at the cracks on the screen, “NOT FUCKING STARK!”

               Registration Act or not, Logan never would’ve been allowed to stand on those Washington steps, and tell the world what a fucking loss it has suffered. Half of America has been in denial. Oh no, their precious idol hasn’t been taking it up the ass from Logan, his husband, of all people. They would rather he die a martyr for a cause they don’t believe in.

               They wouldn’t let a bi mutant tell the world the undeniable. That he loved Steve Rogers and Steve Rogers loved him back.

               “Fucking Civil War they’re calling it– this isn’t war. Fucking mockery of a war, that’s what it is. All bullshit. Steve fucking Rogers ain’t been taken down by no fucking war.”

               “Logan…”

               “What?” He snaps. The New Avengers recoil, but don’t turn their pitying looks away. It’s the same look Matty gave him in the helicarrier, when Logan told him to go home, when he told him he had to see the body to believe it. Just to check.

               The chair underneath him scrapes linoleum as he gets up. He moves towards the television set. Stark’s face still looking out into the crowd, like he’s going to see Steve in that ocean. Logan can’t stand that little lost look on his face, as if this isn’t all his fault, as if he doesn’t understand anything. Logan seethes, so fucking angry that he could’ve exhaled steam. He turns away, looks back at his team. His team now. It used to be Steve’s. From the incredulous look on their faces, they know the chaos he wants to bring. His glare dares them to get in his way.

               “Do it.”

               It’s Cage, egging him on. Logan turns the full heat of his rage onto him, but the taller man doesn’t falter. He repeats more firmly, “C'mon. All talk no action. You wanna break shit? Then finish what you started.”

               Spiderman sidesteps the television as it goes crashing through the window. The shattering soudn isn’t Stark’s face breaking under Logan’s fist, but he has to admit that it soothes him, just a little.

               “Shit, Logan…” Spidey curses. Logan hasn’t heard a curse from him yet, which is surprising, given the company he’s taken to these days.

               Jones sets her hand on Luke’s arm, like she’s using his patience to talk. Her question, directed point blank at Wolverine: “You got something to say?”

               It jars him, enough to get a lungful of air into him that he hasn’t been taking in. With shaky breaths, he looks to each of the New Avengers. When he’s done, his voice is trembling like his inhales.

               “He’s mine.”

               “Oh, Logan…“ The pitying tone from Jessica Drew sets him off, and he whirls around to snarl with more conviction.

               “Fuck you, he’s mine. He’s not theirs. He ain’t going in no crypt in D.C., he’s mine. Bury him with our kind.” It’s the kind of thing that doesn’t come lightly, not for Logan, not for any mutant, to include a mutate like that. Logan’s been at Steve’s neck before about it, about not having mutants’ best interests at heart. Logan looks to each of them with that look in his eyes that dares them to cross him. He goes on, “He’s as good as, fighting for somethin’ that would’ve saved mutants. He fought for us. He fought for me. He died for us and we’re still gonna be rounded up. Joining him, wherever he is. ‘Cept for me, cause I ain’t goin’.”

DAY THREE: AFTER THEY RETURN

New York is muggy, the sticky, pressured smothering after a storm. The streets are quiet, everyone still tense. Steve doesn’t remember what he wasn’t around for, but Logan remembers crossing through the city like this before. Even now, when he scans the skyline, he’s still hit in the gut by that blank space. Like everyone else, he looks for towers.

Steve’s arms tighten around him suddenly; Logan reaches up to grab Steve’s wrist as a reminder.

They don’t fight like before. They’re good at fighting, and making up, and admitting they’re wrong. They don’t… do much of anything anymore. Getting out of bed and making a meal is exhausting for Logan – and he can’t be bothered to move out of reach of Steve.

They sleep facing each other, eyes open, watching. Too afraid to close their eyes. Give them a battlefield over sleep, as long as they can keep an eye on each other. Logan’s been running his hand on Steve’s arm in a bit of a trance. The movement would be soothing, if not for the way Logan’s fingers sometimes dig in. As if he can ground himself in Steve, plant himself firmly like an anchor.

Logan surprises Steve as he’s making dinner - or lunch - or whatever mealtime it’s closest to, because they haven’t eaten since getting home - he doesn’t know when Logan’s last eaten, and it’s been too long for him anyways. So he left Logan in their bed, curled up under the covers, Steve’s pillow wrapped under his arms. Logan’s been… a little more himself. Less social niceties, shall we say, because his nose is buried in Steve’s scent and that seems to be the only thing that shakes him out of the shock of being alive, of being back. But Steve’s back is to the apartment, and that’s when Logan wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and presses himself close. His breath is shaky as he puts his mouth to the back of Steve’s neck.

The question sits on Steve’s tongue, words poking at his mouth to get it to open. But then Logan’s hand moves up, pressing to Steve’s chest, hard enough that it feels like he’s trying to crush his hand through, take Steve’s heart for his own.

“Steve.” It’s the careful way his name comes out that makes Steve turn around. Logan’s a quiet man, but his voice is never that shy. Never that nervous. Steve holds on until the heat at his back warns them both of dinner burning.

DAY FIFTEEN: AFTER THEY RETURN

The roar of the bikes calls a few people to the front entrance to greet them. Marie, of course, has been hardwired to listen for Logan’s return with the rumble of a bike. Jean grabs Logan and hangs on for a couple of minutes, though she’s sheepish for overreacting to Logan’s reappearance afterwards. With Scott and Professor also being on the other side, and Ororo in Wakanda with Shiri, she’d taken on the pressure of running the school and team by herself. Xavier’s had gone into overload trying to house practically every dependent mutant in the UN. Logan immediately asks what he can do to help; it doesn’t surprise Steve when Logan asks him if they can stay.

DAY TWENTY-NINE: AFTER THEY RETURN

“What was on the other side?”

That’s what it’s been called. The other side. Like death. A death that everyone felt, like a strong wind putting everyone on the back foot. But the breeze died down. Everyone moves forward. That’s why Logan can look at Steve and laugh as he says, “Nothing. Just the feeling of what you lost. Time too, so you can’t even heal from the grief of it. Just stuck with nothing, and the memory of having everything.”

Logan takes Steve’s face with both hands. Adds with a sincerity, “I remember your face, before everything went away. It got me through it. You ‘n this perfect mug, you got that?”

His thumb swipes over Steve’s cheek, his eyes honest in a way that makes it hard to look away from. Steve shudders out an exhale and leans in to kiss him.

A WEEK: BEFORE THEY’RE LOST

“I’m right here. Shh, baby, I’m here.” And Logan proves it, filling Steve up, covering him with his body. Logan grabs Steve’s wrist and pins it to the side - it’s a usual move of his. He growls and his hand slips, fingers tangling with Steve’s, both of them holding on. Logan leans down to kiss him, that growl extinguished against Steve’s mouth.

It’s all Steve thinks about, after. Logan promising to stay, promising that he’ll never leave.

DAY ONE: AFTER THEY RETURN

Logan lurches suddenly, trying to move, but there’s not enough room on the bench in the quinjet. His leg falls off, followed by his arm, reaching under the seat to grip the support. Steve says his name, over and over, but Logan pays no mind. His head turns in Steve’s lap, and the first cough gives Steve enough warning to help Logan roll over. Logan sets his other arm along Steve’s thigh and grips him under his knee. Then he pushes his head out and throws up on the floor, splattering over Steve’s boots. It’s not the priority to clean up, so Steve keeps a hand on Logan’s back to keep him still, to keep him from rolling off and into his mess. The heaving continues after Logan’s stomach’s emptied, and a quaking feeling begins under Steve’s fingers. Logan, in a fit of exhaustion, presses his forehead to his arm on Steve’s thigh.

He’s not heaving still, Steve realizes. It’s great, racking sobs that shake Wolverine.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR: AFTER THEY RETURN

“How’s it feel?”

Logan runs his hand under the fabric, considering. The outline of his hand presses through, his thumb nail running along the underneath a brown stripe’s edge.

“Logan?” He’s prompted, and finally he looks up.

“What about blue?”

“Blue?” Janet’s brow wrinkles, and she lifts the rest of the uniform. After a moment of watching his expression as he looks back, she asks, “Well, what kind of blue?”

He already knows, his hand already reaching for the other uniform. Logan tugs the sleeve of Steve’s underarmor over the tiger stripe of his own. He looks up at Janet, and clarifies, “Cap blue.”

DAY FIFTEEN: AFTER THEY RETURN

It’s one of Steve’s jackets that Logan grabs when they go down to prep their bikes for the ride upstate. He distracts; his hands pulling Steve backwards by his hips to press his mouth to the back of Steve’s neck. It’s the closest they’ve been to how they were. Logan gets the thought of Steve on the back of his bike, arms around him, chest to back– Seeing Logan in his bomber leads Steve down the same line of thinking. Steve turns, as Logan’s hands go for his own belt, and he yanks Logan’s chin in to kiss him.

It takes the afternoon to make an hour’s drive to North Salem.

DAY ONE: AFTER THE WEDDING

Danvers calls ahead to report the oncoming storm. An invasion they wouldn’t have seen coming without her warning. The Skrull were coming. At Earth’s frontlines, Captain America stands surveying the collection of heroes that came to fight. They all watch as his right-hand man falls to his side.

“Avengers,” he commands, “Assemble.”