NIGHTMARES
The jump from unconscious to conscious, from sleep to waking, is inhumanly quick for him. Life has taught him those precious seconds can make all the difference in survival, instinct has taught his body. He's out of bed within the beating of a heart, at the door in two. Claws unsheathed, he stares down the hall, sniffs, catches a great rolling whiff of fear and sweat. His ears ring with the sound that roused him, drawing him past the many doors; some of the doors are cracked open, with startled, frightened eyes peering from behind them.
The noise grows louder as he reaches the end of the hall, wordless cries that fill this wing of the mansion. Several students stand outside the door, glancing nervously at each other and shuffling their feet. Pryde and Rogue are halfway inside the room, with the Drake kid pulling on Rogue's gloved hand.
An irritated grunt announces his approach, elicits lots of guilty looks. One of his patented stares is all it takes to send every kid running, except Rogue, who turns back for an instant at a painful shout from the darkness behind the door. She looks at him pleadingly, worry in her gently furrowed brow, then follows the others.
The room is chill, dark, filled with the musky scent of fear. He makes his way to the bed, not worrying about bumping into anything; the room's occupant hasn't had time to fill it with furniture or objects, a dresser and the small dorm bed are the only things in it. He pauses when soft linen rubs against his bare foot, a sheet, and he follows it to the frail form it's wrapped around.
The German is spread across the bed, arms stretched and legs tangled in the bedding. His breath comes harsh and shallow, his limbs twitching occasionally in some mimickry of activity. Moonlight barely serves to highlight his twisted features, his tightly shut eyes and bared fangs.
Logan doesn't know why he sits down next to him. He doesn't understand when he finds himself suddenly attacked, engulfed in shivering arms, with a delicate tail wrapping itself around his waist. When instinct doesn't drive out his claws, he's surprised. Muffled panting and the wetness pressing his shirt against his too-hot skin tells him the man's awake. He surprises himself by not pushing away.
The gut-wrenching sobs slowly fade, leaving him with an armful of sleeping mutant and more than his fair share of confusion.
Disclaimer: All images and characters used and abused within belong to their individual exalted creators, and are reprinted here without permission. Please don't sue me. I'm poor. All scans were created by me, except where otherwise noted. Please ask if you want to use them. The basement is getting kinda full, I don't want to have to put any more thieves down there. All fanart used within belongs to the individual artists, who kick far more arse than you do so don't try anything funny. Much thanks goes to gir.n3.net, from whence most of the Invader Zim pics used in the layout came.
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