Chapter Text
It was nearly five months later that rumours of a time travelling mutant reached the small band of X-Men.
None of them put much weight into it at first. Seemed too good to be true. But then -with Erik’s mastery of metal- they were able to connect an old version of Cerebro into the Blackbird, and Charles discovered that not only were the rumours correct, but the mutant in question was none other than Kitty Pryde.
It was difficult to believe the plucky teenage girl Logan once knew could be capable of something so powerful, but he was relieved to hear she was alive, at the very least.
And with the news came something new.
Hope.
Something none of them had felt in a long time.
Charles was the first to suggest the plan. A final desperate attempt to erase the sins of the past. Logan, Ororo and Erik agreed without hesitation, having lost too many loved ones not to try. And from there, Charles and Erik spent day and night mapping out a timeline. Trying to pinpoint the exact moment in history the world had gone astray.
Erik had been a shell of his former self since Pietro died. Quiet and reserved, stripped of everything but a cold, deadly fury when in battle. But as the days went by and their discussions kept circling back to one year in particular, Erik’s eyes began to flicker with something akin to life again. A spark that soon ignited his soul when they settled on the event that started it all.
1973.
The day Bolivar Trask died.
The first time Mystique took a life.
It didn’t take long to track Kitty down using Cerebro, leading them to a remote Chinese temple nestled amidst the mountains. She wasn’t alone either. A few former students -Bobby, Roberto, Piotr- stood by her side, along with a couple others Logan had never seen before. The last of the Free Mutants. Like the X-Men and the Brotherhood that had come before them, their numbers were few and scattered now.
Their leader Bishop invited them inside and Charles didn't waste any time laying the plan out to the surviving mutants.
Of course there were complications. Kitty’s time travel didn’t function the way they had expected, instead sending only a person’s conscience back in time, and at a great cost to their psyche. Logan volunteered with an undercurrent of reluctance, but any reservations were quickly pushed aside when he remembered all the faces he might get to see again if he succeeded.
Jean. Scott. Beast. Warren. Kurt. Pietro.
No amount of pain could keep him from them.
But Bishop was quick to argue against the plan, reminding the X-Men that if they succeeded in changing history, their own fates would be unknown. A chance of death- of never being born at all. Like any good leader when it came to the lives of his team, the risk was too high for Bishop.
But it was Ororo, in all her grace and determination, that cut through their arguments.
“You've got a decision to make. You can keep sending Bishop back in time over and over again to warn you, until one day, he doesn't make it- and you all die,” she said with such brutal honesty that it startled them back to reality. “Or you can give up this life, so that they and everyone else who died in this war can actually have a future.”
Sunspot shook his head, dismayed. “You're asking us to sacrifice our lives for a future we might not even be a part of.”
“Yes,” Erik stated bluntly.
An insensitive answer, no doubt, but one Logan understood the weight of. There was only one person on Erik’s mind now. To deter him from this plan -the only one that could save his child- would be nothing short of impossible.
When that didn’t seem to convince the others though, Charles offered gently, “A second chance. A better chance for everyone.”
A moment of silence passed, allowing them to decide. This world -full of death and terror and heartache- or a new one. Maybe it wouldn’t be perfect. Maybe it wouldn’t even include them. But surely it had to be better than this.
Clearly the X-Men weren’t the only ones tired of running though, as their agreements rolled in within seconds.
With no more time to spare though, the majority of Bishop’s team moved out towards the courtyard, staying on alert for any signs of sentinels. Kitty and Bobby gestured for the X-Men to follow them further into the temple, and while Erik and Charles left without preamble, Ororo caught Logan’s arm as he went to pass.
Logan peered down at her, confusion written across his face.
Those dark eyes he had grown to adore stared back at him in an apology.
“I must fight with the others.”
Logan’s eyes widened. “No.”
“They will need all the help they can get-”
“You’ll die,” Logan argued, grabbing her hands tightly in his own.
He still remembered how the blood pooled under Pietro’s body. The sentinel blade jutting out of his side. That couldn’t happen to Ororo- he couldn’t bear the thought of it.
“We’ll die anyway if this doesn’t work,” Ororo replied, voice trembling on a whisper.
Shaking his head, Logan murmured, “It will work- it has to.”
“And to do that, you will need time,” Ororo said, her voice growing stronger as she squeezed his hands and assured him, “That’s something I can give you.”
The worst part was that he knew she was right. She was the strongest of all the remaining X-Men. If anybody could keep those monsters at bay, at least for a while, it was her.
Still, his heart broke. A pain that was reflected back in Ororo’s tearful eyes.
They leant forward at the same time, wrapping each other in an embrace that whispered all the words they didn’t know how to say. Stealing a moment of joy amidst the sorrow. And when they pulled back, Ororo leant her forehead against Logan’s with a weak smile.
“It’s not goodbye,” she said like a promise. “It’s not.”
And oh, how he wanted to believe it.
Pulling away, Ororo met his eyes with renewed determination. “Bring them back to us.”
Logan nodded solemnly, all the friends they had loved and lost cycling through his mind on repeat. Their names no doubt playing through Ororo’s mind too. And at the end of this nightmare, they’d be together again. All of them. Logan would make sure of it.
Ororo didn’t linger after that, knowing if she did, they would never be able to let go. She didn’t look back, but Logan still felt the warmth of her touch radiate across his skin like sunshine as he joined the others down the hall.
Logan ignored their expectant stares as he came to stand before the altar, urging Charles to walk him through the plan one more time.
Find Charles from 1973 and catch him up to speed.
Be patient, because somehow the Professor wouldn’t even have his powers to confirm all his bullshit.
And to top it all off-
“You'll need me as well.”
Logan turned to stare at Erik in disbelief. “What?”
“After Mystique left Charles, she came with me, and I set her on a dangerous path. A darker path,” Erik explained, undeterred by Logan’s confusion. “It's going to take the two of us- side by side at a time when we couldn't be further apart.”
“Great,” Logan muttered. “So where do I find you?”
“Well- it's complicated.”
It always is with you, asshole.
“You’ll find my younger self imprisoned below the Pentagon,” Erik said, far too nonchalant for such a statement.
“I thought Pietro broke you out?” Logan asked.
A hint of longing touched Erik’s features. “It is too early for him.”
Logan’s brows furrowed as the words sunk in, confusion shifting to dread as he pointed out, “If I break you out first, he won’t get the chance to. You’ll never meet.”
The sorrow welling in Erik’s eyes showed he was not only aware, but accepting of this fact.
Ever the optimist though, Charles offered kindly, “There is still a chance they might find each other again. Hopefully in better circumstances, too.”
Logan looked to Erik, but his expression was clouded with doubt. They both knew the story well enough by now. The Pentagon had been the point of no return. When Erik and Pietro’s lives became intrinsically entwined together, whether they knew it at that time or not. To remove that moment for them would break the very foundation their bond was built upon.
But remembering all the stories Pietro had regaled of his single-handed infiltration of the prison, hope sparked in Logan’s chest. “There’s only been one man who could break in and out of that cell,” he said, not giving either of them a chance to reply before suggesting lightly, “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have him on our side again?”
Erik’s demeanor grew cold as ice. “That ‘man’ is only a boy where you are going. Leave him out of this, Logan, and keep him far away from me.”
“Even if you risk never meeting him to begin with?” Logan asked, shocked.
“If it allows my son to live, then yes,” Erik said, a fresh wave of grief rolling over his shoulders as he admitted, “That’s a price I’m willing to pay…”
The man had never looked so tired before. Eyes dull with exhaustion, lines creasing his features. Nobody had fought this battle longer than he had. But Erik’s will had been crushed beyond repair. There was no other option in his eyes but to wash the slate clean and start again. To spare his son of death- even at the cost of his own soul.
Slowly, reluctantly, Logan nodded in understanding.
And he tried. Truly- he tried to put the idea out of his mind.
But then Logan found himself standing around a table of Pentagon blueprints with a far younger, hairier Charles Xavier and far less furry Hank McCoy, facing an impossible dilemma.
“We don't have any resources to get us in,” Hank said, his expression grim.
“Or out,” Charles added not so helpfully. “It's just me and Hank.”
And damnit Logan tried to think of someone else. Anyone else. But there was only one person in the world fast enough to bypass such tight security.
Logan drew in a deep breath and blew it out through his nose.
Erik would kill him for this…
“I know a guy.”
Good thing he wasn’t here.
It was scarily easy to track down the Maximoff’s address from the phone book, and as Charles haphazardly pulled up to the curb, Logan took in the quaint, suburban home they were faced with. He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting. Not once in the thirty years he’d known Pietro had he seen the man live in a house, the Brotherhood’s nomadic nature never allowing for a stable residence. Logan got the sense Pietro would’ve hated being tethered to one place even without that factor though.
Hank and Charles were barely out of the car by the time Logan had made it up the steps, his pace noticeably quickened as he realised what he was about to do. Who he was about to see again.
It took all his might to restrain each knock against the door, pulling his nerves back into line just in time for Hank and Charles to join him. No answer at first. Logan knocked again, a little more urgently this time. And then finally- a woman appeared, sliding back the locks and opening the door with wide -but not startled- eyes.
“What’s he done now?” she asked, an edge of worry in her voice as she rushed to suggest, “I’ll just write you a check for whatever he took?”
Logan smothered an amused smile.
Clearly some things never changed.
“We just need to talk to him,” Logan answered calmly.
The woman -no doubt Pietro’s mother- hesitated for a moment, before nodding in resignation. She didn’t even question it. Just stepped aside to allow them in. That should’ve been concerning, but Logan knew the shit Pietro got up to in his spare time, so he could only assume unwanted visits were routine for the Maximoff family.
“Peter,” she called out dejectedly. “The cops are here- again.”
Peter. Now that did catch Logan off guard. Pietro had never mentioned a change of name before, but as someone who also had a complicated history with names, Logan couldn’t judge. Best he follow her lead so not to spook the kid.
Following the trail of sneaker tracks that had been seared into the carpet, the three descended the basement stairs and stared in shock at the chaos before them. Logan had never seen so much shit crammed into one space in his life. Skateboards. Bikes. Jackets. Bowling balls. Posters. Televisions. Arcade cabinets. Stereos. Traffic lights, for heaven's sake. The list went on and on.
And in the centre of it all, playing ping pong against himself, was Pietro.
Logan couldn’t see anything outside of a silver blur, but the whip of the air, the faint whistle that passed by his ears- it was him. There was no one else it could be.
“What do you guys want?”
The ball bounced back and forth rhythmically.
“I didn’t do anything.”
A sudden breeze. Pietro disappeared, and the ball bounced aimlessly off the edge of the table.
“I’ve been here all day.”
The voice chimed from behind them and Charles and Hank practically jumped out of their skins as they turned, finding the boy reclining comfortably on the couch. It was the first time Logan could get a proper look at him, and God- he looked so young.
Still the same metallic hair, but long and untamed, framing his smug grin. The jagged edges of his jawline and cheekbones were softened. No scars crawled up his neck or hands from a past he refused to talk about. No dark rings under his lashes from a lack of sleep. And his eyes, still dark as the night, but with a warmth that had been vacant in his older counterpart.
Logan’s heart ached upon realising that this was not the man he knew. At least not yet. Maybe not ever, if they succeeded.
That was a thought Logan wasn’t ready to face yet, so gathering his composure, he assured instead, “Just relax, Peter. We’re not cops.”
“Of course you're not cops, if you were cops you wouldn't drive a rental car,” the boy replied, mutation present even in his speech.
Charles blinked rapidly behind the cover of his glasses, stunned. “How'd you know we got a rental car?”
“I checked your registration when you were walking through the door,” Pietro -Peter, Peter- mused. “I also had some time to kill so I went through your rental agreements, saw you were from out of town. Are you FBI?”
No sooner had the last syllable left Peter’s mouth did he vanish once again, this time appearing behind Charles as he inspected his wallet with interest.
“Nope, you're not cops,” he confirmed as Charles checked his now empty pocket in outrage. “Hey, what's up with this gifted youngsters place?”
Gone again- the wallet dropping against the ping pong table.
Snatching back his possessions, Charles muttered in frustration, “That's an… old card.”
With the boy seemingly gone, Hank glanced around, perplexed, and said, “Why, he's fascinating.”
“He's a pain in the ass,” Charles rebutted.
Seeing that the Professor didn’t share his excitement, Hank glanced past his shoulder and asked Logan instead, “What, a teleporter?”
“No, he's just fast,” Logan said simply. “And when I knew him he wasn't so…” Curious. Free. Happy- “...young.”
“Young?” Peter’s voice returned, almost offended. “You're just old.”
When they turned back to face the couch, Peter was polishing off a popsicle as if he had been there the whole time, seemingly amused by the whole situation.
“So you’re not afraid to show your powers?” Hank asked, an undercurrent of envy in his tone.
“Powers? What powers? What are you talking about?” Peter retorted obnoxiously which made Charles and Hank share a confused glance. “Do you see something strange here?”
Peter let them sit in that confusion for a beat, before his oblivious facade shifted into a smirk. “Nothing anybody would believe if you told them,” he remarked almost coldly.
And there, in that moment, in those eyes- Logan saw him again.
Saw the Pietro he missed so deeply.
It didn’t take much at all to convince the boy to join them. The thrill of breaking into the Pentagon alone was more than enough, desperate for some sense of excitement in a world that was always ten steps behind. A trait Logan recognised from his own Pietro. It was the constant need to push himself further and faster that made the speedster so powerful- and so dangerous.
After Charles made up some bullshit excuse about taking some questions down at ‘the station’ to Peter’s mother, they filled him in on the plan during the ride to the Pentagon. Only the basics of course. The map, the route, the blind spots, the dangers, the signals to wait for -that one especially- and what everyone else would do to make the whole thing work.
“So who we breaking out?” Peter asked distractedly as he fiddled with something on his belt.
While Charles stared out the window to feign ignorance and Hank shifted uncomfortably in the backseat, Logan stole a glance at Peter in the rearview mirror.
It was the question Logan had hoped to avoid. Because while he might have gone against Erik’s wishes to involve Peter in this mission, he had enough respect not to spoil their future either. Logan had no idea how much Peter knew of his father. Would he recognise his face? Did he even know his name? He couldn’t risk giving out too much information. If they figured it out, that was their business. But Logan would not be the one to steal that revelation away from them.
“He’s a mutant, like us,” Logan eventually answered.
“What’s he do?”
“Controls metal.”
“Sick,” the boy praised, too busy slotting a cassette tape into the device on his belt to comment any further.
Logan couldn’t help but feel his heart twinge at the lack of recognition in Peter’s voice.
But the real test would be what happened when Erik and Peter came face to face. Much to Logan’s worry, none of them would be there when that happened, either. He could only stick to his part of the plan and hope that Peter stayed focused. A hope that was becoming increasingly fragile every time the boy opened his mouth and rambled about anything and everything he could to fill the time.
Well, it was too late to go back now anyway.
Logan’s job was relatively easy in the grand scheme of things; take out anyone who got in the way and keep Charles safe. That second one would’ve been much easier if Charles wasn’t so shit at lying, but a few swings of a frying pan later and they were back on track.
As Charles took the key from one of the guards and moved to unlock the elevator, Logan felt his nerves start to buzz with anticipation. Eager to see Peter safe on the other side of the door. Curious to know where father and son stood now that they had officially met, and far earlier than they were supposed to, at that.
But all those questions were forced to wait when Charles decked Erik the moment the elevator opened, sending them down one of their typical bickering spirals which Logan promptly tuned out. At least Peter looked unharmed, if not a little confused by the scene playing out before him.
Just as Erik and Charles seemed to come to an agreement though, a second wave of guards descended upon them, cornering them in front of the elevator with their guns raised. Logan could survive the barrage. Erik and Charles would not, especially with both of their powers out of commission. Pietro mentioned once how it took days for Erik to get full control of them again after being deprived of metal for so long. It would be safe to assume that this Erik -though rescued earlier than his counterpart- might face the same issue.
And that left only one.
The one who, in another world, would do this all on his own nearly fourteen years later.
Logan’s claws slid out on instinct as the guards pulled the trigger, but he knew he didn’t need them. Knew deep in his bones that they were in safe hands.
Logan blinked.
The guards who once stood tall were suddenly thrown back by an unseen force, collapsing onto the ground as their bullets sailed harmlessly past Erik and into the wall instead. Within mere seconds, the battle was over. Not a single guard left standing to oppose them, knocked unconscious by an unseen whirlwind. A mercy that his Pietro would not have given them. And across the kitchen, standing amidst the aftermath with a stolen guard’s cap and a playful smirk, was the kid.
Logan had missed seeing Quicksilver in action. Even after all these years, he couldn’t help but be a little awed by the display.
After a moment of stunned silence amidst the group, Charles stormed towards the door, shooting Erik an icy glare as he did. Instead of following, Erik paused to look at Logan as his eyes drifted towards the claws jutting out of his hands. Logan just stared right back at him, unwavering.
No adamantium this time, bub.
Erik left without another word, and Logan trailed behind him with his claws sheathed.
It wasn’t a surprise but rather disappointing when Charles walked by Peter without a word. This man was not the kind, patient professor he knew, but he would be. One day.
The real shock though was when Erik walked right past the boy without even an acknowledgement.
Erik Lehnsherr. The man that would shower his son in praise at the end of every mission and proudly recall stories of the speedster’s bravery and strength. The same man that would hover in concern whenever Pietro was injured, knowing he could not voice his worry without inciting a rebuke. Erik Lehnsherr, whose eyes lit up like stars in the night whenever his boy was near-
-left without even sparing him a glance.
It left an acidic sensation in Logan’s throat, one he didn’t truly understand. A mixture of disbelief, and pity, and a dash of plain old anger. Because even if Erik didn’t know who Peter was to him -and God he hoped that was the case, or he’d have some choice words to say- he could have at least thanked the boy for saving his life.
So since no one else was going to do it, Logan offered Peter a grateful nod and dropped his hand on his shoulder, saying warmly, “Thanks, kid.”
Pietro hated being praised. Considered it an insult to think he would need validation from anyone else, except for Erik, who he tolerated to an extent. But when Peter caught up to Logan as they made their escape through the fire exit, he noticed the boy’s features had warmed into a proud smile. Another difference between the two, but this time, one Logan was pleased to see.
The tension was suffocating on the car ride to the airstrip.
As Charles had been banned from driving and Logan didn’t know the route, Hank took over the wheel, leaving Logan, Erik and Peter in the back. As the smallest of them, Peter was relegated to the middle seat, which was something he complained about relentlessly until Logan forced them to pull over and grab the kid some food. He knew Pietro’s regular rants well enough by now to realise that hunger was likely the cause.
The car fell silent after Peter got to dig into a family sized serve of burgers and fries, his ramblings satiated for the time being, though the tension between Erik and Charles continued to pollute the air.
Clearly Peter felt it too, and with no more food left to distract him, the speedster couldn’t help but break the silence somehow.
“Whoa- is this whiskey?”
Everyone glanced over at Peter to find a silver flask had appeared in his hand, sniffing the contents curiously.
“Smells expensive.”
“Peter!” Charles barked as he patted down his jacket. “That’s mine-”
“You must be rich. My mom can never afford brands like this.”
“Hand that back-”
“I did try to steal her a bottle once though,” Peter continued, oblivious to Charles’ frustration. Or just ignoring it, maybe. “She was not happy about that, let me tell you. Made me return it and write an anonymous letter apologising for stealing. So embarrassing.”
“Peter-!”
“Hey, do you mind if I try some?”
Charles and Hank practically exploded with a frantic, “NO!”
Startled out of his ramblings, Peter asked innocently, “As in ‘no you don’t mind’?”
“As in no, you can’t,” Charles said coldly, reaching across the seats to take the flask back, which Peter didn’t fight. “For God's sake- you’re seventeen.”
“Old enough to break into the Pentagon though, I guess,” Peter said with an exasperated roll of his eyes.
The car went quiet again, but looking over at the kid pouting in the middle seat, Logan couldn’t help but soften. He had shared many drinks with Pietro over the years, and with a metabolism locked in superspeed, it was almost impossible for him to get drunk. A fact Pietro used to gloat over him often.
So pulling out the flask that had come with the jacket he stole, Logan offered it to Peter and said, “Here. You did good today, kid.”
Peter’s eyes lit up in excitement, though whether it was at the alcohol or the praise, Logan wasn’t sure.
But just as Peter reached out to take it, the flask was abruptly dragged through the air and thrown into Erik’s hand.
“Hey-!”
“You will have plenty of time to drink when you’re older,” Erik said, cutting off Peter’s protest with a tone that left no room for debate.
“Ugh, you guys are no fun,” Peter relented, throwing his hands up before resuming his sulking.
Logan felt the heat of Erik’s glare long before he turned to face it. Frosty blue eyes pierced through him with disappointment. An admonishment without words.
But instead of the intimidation or shame Erik had probably wanted him to feel, Logan just laughed. Because there he was. There was the protective, scolding man he remembered. The one that would chastise Pietro for getting into needless fights and threaten anyone who dared to harm his son. It was small, and it was fleeting, but there was still hope for him yet.
“What’s so funny?” Peter asked.
Logan offered him a fond smile and turned to stare out the window again, echoing words from a lifetime ago.
“You’ll figure it out eventually, kid.”
Upon reaching the airstrip and the private jet waiting for their arrival, Peter raced out of the car and zipped around like a lightning bolt, releasing all his pent up energy from the car ride. Logan watched him race around without a care in the world and wondered how this could possibly become his Pietro. How this ball of excitement and chaos and freedom could become the cold, ruthless, maniac that became his friend.
Logan would always miss his Pietro, but looking upon Peter’s beaming smile as he skidded to a halt before him, he was grateful that this kid would get a chance to flourish as well.
“Hey- hey, look what I got,” Peter said, head whipping back and forth to check the others were distracted, before pulling out the flask Erik had confiscated from his pocket. “Thought you ought to have this back.”
Chuckling, Logan took the flask and slipped it back into his jacket, saying, “Thanks kid. Maybe one day we’ll share a drink together.”
“So long as you’re paying,” Peter teased.
Softening, Logan rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder with an encouraging squeeze. Pietro never would have let him do that. Not unless they were wasted, at least. But Peter just smiled back at him, and Logan committed the precious sight to his memory.
“Take care of yourself kid,” Logan said gently.
Nodding as if he were being lectured, Peter mused, “Good luck with whatever you weirdos are up to.”
And with one final chuckle and pat of his arm, Logan climbed the steps to the jet, glancing over his shoulder to get one last look at the young man.
To his surprise, Erik had taken his place next to Peter. The boy didn’t seem threatened by his father’s approach, though surprise quickly flashed upon his features as Erik said something. A belated thank you, perhaps? Praise, even? When Erik finished, Peter grinned and rushed into some kind of explanation, his hands moving wildly to support his voice.
And for a moment, Logan thought he saw the steel in Erik’s expression ease just a fraction.
Logan didn’t know what to expect from these two going forward. They felt like strangers. Ghosts of people he once knew. Occasionally there were glimpses of something familiar, but they were on a different path now. One only they could decide.
There was nothing left to do but stand back and watch as history unfolded.
Unfortunately for Logan, he would not get to watch for long, as days later everything went to complete and utter shit. He really shouldn’t have expected any less from a mission that relied on Charles and Erik getting along. But foolishly, he had hoped, and that hope landed him at the bottom of a lake, skewered by rebar that Erik had so kindly wrapped around his bones.
Even without the adamantium, Erik always found a way to screw Logan over.
There was no way to get out. The metal was too heavy, pinning him to the bed of the lake. All he could do was drown-
Over.
And over.
And over again.
Logan was going to strangle Erik when they next crossed paths.
Eventually he succumbed to the fire in his lungs, blinking up at the flickers of sunlight as the water played a melody in his ears. A melody that would eventually shift from the rhythm of currents to the harmony of guitar strings and vocals. A familiar tune. One that initially filled Logan with dread, fearing he had failed after all that work and suffering.
But then he stepped out of his room, and he saw them.
Children, everywhere. Students of a school he once thought long dead. Faces he thought he’d never see again.
Rogue. Bobby. Kitty. Piotr. Illyana. Roberto.
They were happy, but more importantly, they were safe.
And then he found more names to add to his list of victories.
Beast. Ororo. Jean. Scott.
“Welcome back,” Charles told him in a fervent whisper, and Logan wanted to cry, knowing he’d kept the promise he made to his Ororo.
He brought them all back.
They won, and for the first time in his life, Logan could believe it too.
After carefully examining his mind, Charles realised that his memories of the last fifty years were still intact, just overridden temporarily by the conscience of his former self. Charles assured Logan that his full memories would come back in time, but that the overwhelming amount of information he had absorbed meant it might take a while for it all to settle. That was something Logan could handle, and even as they walked through the sun-soaked hallways of the school, Logan felt little pieces of a life he didn’t recognise flutter back into place.
It was less than an hour after Logan returned that he found him in the kitchen.
Waves of silver hair perfectly windswept against his temples. Features worn with age, not exhaustion or torment. Lips tilted into a smile as he hummed to the music drifting lazily from the nearby record player. A warmth in his deep, dark eyes that had not just survived, but grown into a gentle blaze.
Logan stood at the kitchen door for a long time, watching in muted awe.
Pietro- Peter- he wasn’t sure what to call him. He looked closer to the friend he once knew, but softer. Kinder. Peace radiated off him like sunshine, something he couldn’t say described either version he’d met before.
And before he could even think of something to say, footsteps echoed from behind, startling him out of his trance.
When Logan turned, he was met with another familiar set of eyes, these ones a striking blue. Ones he had seen enraged, and grieving, and desperate and lost. Ones that had stared at him in complete and utter disdain before throwing his mutilated body into a lake, intending it to be his deathbed.
The anger surged back through Logan’s veins for a heartbeat, but it quickly fell away when he took in the rest of his features. Stark white hair, like the man he once grieved with. Features creased with lines that spoke of smiles and laughter, not just vengeance. A gaze as steady and determined as the one that sent him to the past, but free of the grief that haunted them.
The thought of strangling the man -while still present- was pushed aside for now.
“Erik,” Logan eventually brought himself to greet.
The man arched his brow, perplexed. “Is there a reason you’re blocking the doorway, Logan?”
“What?” he muttered, before remembering where he was and awkwardly stepping aside to allow him past.
Erik moved into the kitchen, though not before casting a perplexed glance over his shoulder.
“Hey Pops!”
Pietro’s voice had lost its edge, a soothing sound now free of venom or ice.
“Come to have one of my specialty burgers?” he crooned as his father came to stand beside him at the stove.
“By specialty, you mean heart-attack inducing,” Erik teased dryly, levitating a fork to poke at whatever was on the pan as he muttered, “Why is there so much oil?”
“It makes it fry better,” Pietro insisted with a grin.
Rolling his eyes, Erik said, “It’s ghastly.”
“You’re just a critic.”
“One that cares for their wellbeing, at least.”
“Luna never complains about my cooking this much.”
“Luna has a teenage metabolism. I do not.”
Groaning dramatically, Pietro conceded, “ Fine. I’ll make a fresh batch with a piss poor amount of oil just for you.”
Erik chuckled and ran a hand gently through Pietro’s hair. Instead of his affection getting shoved away like Logan would expect, Pietro tilted his head into the touch, humming along with the record player again. There was no reprimand from Pietro. No hesitation from Erik. And after a quiet moment, Erik pressed a tender kiss to his son’s temple before moving to wash the dishes in the sink, neither of them batting an eye at the other’s actions.
Logan almost couldn’t believe it.
These were very much not the Erik and Pietro he knew, but watching them now, he thought maybe that was for the better. Maybe this is what they always should have been. Joyful. Content. Working together seamlessly, free of the demons that had kept them at a distance, even in their closest moments. And isn’t that what they had always fought for? The reason they came together to begin with? They battled for a world where they could live in peace, together, and now they finally had it.
Right where they were destined to be- at each other’s sides.
Finally finding the courage to move, Logan entered the kitchen and paused a few paces away from Pietro, which was enough to alert the man to his presence.
And when those dark eyes lifted to meet his own, they overflowed with a warmth that settled in his bones.
“Hey Logan,” he greeted casually and flipped another oil-drenched patty. “You want to join us for lunch?”
A thousand words caught in Logan’s throat, a million things he never got to tell his Pietro before.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there.
I should’ve reached out sooner.
I’m glad you were my friend.
I missed you- we all did.
In the end, he said none of them, longing to enjoy this brief moment of levity instead. “You call that lunch?” he teased to hide the tears welling behind his eyes.
Just as he expected, Pietro threw up his hands in mock surrender while Erik just chuckled from his position at the sink.
“Everyone’s got opinions today, huh?” he muttered, jabbing the spatula in Erik’s direction as he mused, “You can have one of Magnets patties then.”
Magnets.
Logan hadn’t heard that nickname for a long time. He was glad it managed to stick around, even in this timeline.
Noticing his lingering stare though, Pietro peered over at Logan in curiosity, before it quickly shifted to concern. Placing his utensils aside, Pietro turned his full attention to the man and asked, “Are you okay, Logan? You look a bit… spooked.”
Offering a broken smile, Logan nodded. “I’m just glad to see you, kid.”
Pietro didn’t seem to believe him at first, looking him up and down with a faint squint of his eyes. But with a trusting smile, Pietro reached out his hand and rested it against Logan’s arm. Warm, steady, alive.
“I’m glad to see you too,” he said, before adding reassuringly, “If there’s something on your mind though, you can tell me. You know that right?”
Taking hold of Pietro’s arm as if terrified he might pull away, Logan said with a tearful smile, “Thanks kid. Still trying to work it out myself, but I’ll tell you about it soon. Promise.” A moment of hesitation, a strike of fear, before he suggested, “Maybe… maybe over a drink?”
A laugh bubbled up from Pietro’s chest.
“So long as you’re paying.”
And suddenly, everything felt right. Not normal, no- far from that. But good. Safe. Hopeful.
And as he looked at Pietro -alive and well and reunited with the father he gave everything to protect- Logan knew it had all been worth it.