Turkeys in the Woods (X-Men; Victor/Logan; R)
Title: "Turkeys in the Woods"
Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: R due to sexual content
Summary:
Warnings: Slash, Het, Established Pairings
Word Count: 2,458
Date Written: 21 November, 2011
Challenge: For the XDisneyDreamers LJ comm's weekly challenge and a DiteysBlessings LJ comm's monthly challenge
Timeline: Sequel to the author's The Turkey Caper
Disclaimer: Logan/Wolverine, Victor "Sabertooth" Creed, Morph, Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner, Amanda "Daytripper" Sefton, and the X-Men are © & TM Marvel comics and Disney, neither of which are the author, and are used without permission. Celina Lewis, all other characters mentioned within, and everything else is © & TM the author. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
He was the only man in the forest, and he could hear every sound around him for miles on end. Most of the other animals were deeply asleep, and he could hear their snores as well as the snuffling of the few animals who remained awake during the winter time as they sought out food. The tall, pine trees swayed in the gentle, but cold, winter breeze, and he could hear snow falling and covering the icy ground all throughout the forest.
He was alone, -- Victor grinned, his fangs gleaming in the early morning sunlight --, and that was exactly how he preferred it. He made his way through the forest, his boots sinking deep in the snow and leaving footprints that only a fool would dare to follow. If any one did follow them, it would just prove to make his day even more fun, but no one would. There was no one here but him, and no one would be coming.
He'd left every one he knew, the whole world, far behind just as he did every holiday. This wasn't a day that Victor had ever celebrated. It was an American holiday, and whereas the idiots statewide were running around, stuffing food in their guts, and making themselves fatter, and even a few of his own country men were joining in on the pig out, Victor had always found the day rather stupid. Back in its time, perhaps it hadn't been so bad when two sets of people from completely different cultures had come together. Since those olden days of America's early "settlement", however, Thanksgiving's true meaning had become forgotten in the annals of history. It was now a day that was all about the food and the shopping that followed, and Vic doubted that there was even one person who still celebrated it for the original holiday the way it had began all that time ago.
"Hmph." A sound that was somewhere between a bark of derision and a condescending chuckle broke out of his deep throat. Even back then, humans had been idiots. The British had claimed they were settling a new land when that land had already been settled hundreds of years before. They had broke bread with the Indians, and the Indians eventually, like all idiots humans were, had accepted the white men into their homes, shared their meals with them, traded for their guns and drugs, and eventually been killed for sharing their lives and their world.
{Serves 'em right,} he thought darkly, reaching the top of a mountain and looking out over the vast wilderness that surrounded him. The icy wind blew his long hair back behind his broad and muscular shoulders, and snowflakes swirled in his blonde locks. His green eyes gleamed with pride. Humans were idiots, and they got what they deserved, just like all those who were stupid enough to open themselves up to outsiders and share with them what little they had.
Victor didn't have many material objects, but then he had no need of the things with which most men surrounded themselves. Give him beer, smokes, one decent outfit, and a bike, and he was set to go. And go he would to wherever he wanted whenever he wanted, and whatever he claimed when he got there as his belonged to him only. If anybody ever tried to take his land from him, he'd gut 'em and bury them on the outskirts of his land as a warning to others not to come into his territory. And this, he thought, this Canadian land with its rich soil, tall trees, frozen frontier, and varied wildlife, was his land. No matter where else he went in the world, these woods were his home, his land, and he'd never let any one or thing take them from him.
He raised his head in the wind and sniffed, letting the scents of his home wrap around him. He could smell every animal, every rock, and tree, and then his feral, emerald orbs snapped open as he smelled scents that did not belong. His upper lip curled backwards, and a savage growl emitted from deep within him, coming not just from his chest and gut but from his very soul. There were intruders in his forest, intruders, he recognized, listening to the words he could just barely make out, speaking American English!
He growled again, and then he laughed, his green eyes shining and deadly claws extending. This pack of Americans had made their last mistake. They were going to be his Thanksgiving dinner. He scaled down the side of the mountain, jumped agilely across the rocks forging a trail over a bubbling creek that was already beginning to turn to ice, and sprinted across the land. His booted feet fell silently across the snow, no longer making any tracks as he chose not to leave any sign of his progress behind him. He ran for miles, his anger growing into a silent and deadly fury as he listened to the strangers' words.
"They're called the X-Men," the leader spoke in an odd accent. His English was definitely American. Yet his voice was garbled even to Victor's superior hearing, and Vic knew it wasn't because of the distance that separated them. It was the way the guy normally spoke, but he'd never heard of a speech impediment that made a voice sound so garbled. "They saved me, and they'll save us all!"
"But they're humans!"
"They won't save us; they'll eat us!"
Victor's brow furrowed in confusion, but he kept running.
"They're not humans. They're mutants. They understand what's it like to be different, and they've devoted their lives to making our world a place where every one can live together in peace, humans, mutants, or animals!" The leader squawked suddenly as Victor burst upon the scene.
The wild mutant turned slowly, his green eyes growing as large and round as dinner plates and his mouth hanging agape as he stared at the group that he had found. One of the beings fluttered his wings. "Is this one?" he asked, his voice also gobbling.
"I don't know," the leader answered truthfully, eyeing Victor's large and menacing frame from beady, black eyes. "They have a lot of members, a lot of friends." Victor whirled on him, his claws extending, as he hobbled boldly closer to him. "Are you an X-Man?"
Victor's eyes flashed. His claws slashed, and the speaker jumped back, his wings fluttering in fright, just in time to barely miss being cut open. "I ain't no fuckin' X-Man!" Victor raged. "An' just what th' Hell are you things?!"
"Isn't it obvious?" the leader gobbled. His beady, black eyes blinked up at Sabertooth. "We're turkeys."
Victor snorted. He gazed at the flock like a hungry cat and ran his tongue across his fangs. "Maybe ya were," he answered, "but I ain't ever known a turkey to talk. Don't matter." He grinned. "Ya just became dinner."
The turkeys screamed and, gobbling at the top of their lungs, began to run around like the proverbial chickens with their heads cut off. Victor was just beginning to chase after them when a woman's voice cut through the air. "Release them," she commanded just as he grabbed one. His hands were steadily starting to pull on the screaming bird's neck when he felt a telepathic force enter his head. He growled as he tried to block her, but the woman took swift control. He had released the bird before he even knew what had happened.
Victor turned toward where he could smell cat, human, and mutant and snarled. A being who was half cat and half woman stood tall as she looked at him; she was flanked on either side by X-Men. Her blue eyes pierced his emerald orbs. The icy wind blew across her creamy white and chocolate black fur and whipped her long, black hair and furry tail, but she seemed not to notice the weather as she gazed calmly at him. "Get th' fuck outta my mind," Victor growled.
She smiled gently, and he ached to wipe her grin off of her face but could not yet break free of the telepathic hold in which she had caged him. "As soon as you promise to leave the turkeys alone."
"What th' fuck kind o' a game is this?" Victor howled, enraged. "Let go o' me, bitch, an' I might not be so slow in breakin' yer, pretty little neck!"
The X-Man called Morph stepped before the catwoman, his body shifting instantly into a copycatted form of Sabertooth's. Victor could smell the woman's scent all over the shapeshifter and realized that she must be his mate. "Ya ain't gonna hurt her," Morph growled, his voice sounding eerily like Victor's own, "or I'll rip ya to pieces."
On the other side of the catwoman stood the wiser X-Man called Nightcrawler. Despite his Demonic appearance, Victor knew that Kurt Wagner possessed a very peaceful soul. His long, blue tail slashed through the winter air, its pointed tip twitching a hundred times a minute. His fangs gleamed as he warned his friends, "It is unwise to taunt Sabertooth, Morph. You know zat. Victor, leave ze turkeys be, and ve vill not have to fight."
Victor laughed, and his grin was deadly. "Maybe I wanna fight, Elf. Maybe I wanna feel yer blood run through my claws."
Finally, the only one of the lot who he actually gave a flame about and whose scent he had caught the moment the X-Men had teleported there, with the help of the redheaded woman standing behind Kurt, stepped forward. Logan threw his finished cigar to the ground and stubbed it out underneath his booted foot. "Ya don't wanna mess wit' 'em, Vic," he growled, his eyes and fangs both gleaming in invitation, "when ya can tussle wit' me. Get yer damn friends outta here, Morph," Logan continued, putting himself between the X-Men and turkeys and his former partner, "an' let go o' 'im, Celina."
The catwoman's long, chocolate tail whipped through the cold air. "Are you sure, Logan?" she asked.
He snorted. "Not only am I sure I want ya to let go o' 'im, but I better never find ya takin' control o' his mind again. We don't play that way on Earth. Ya take over his mind again, an' I'll gut ya myself."
"Wolverine!" Morph declared.
Celina put a soothing hand on her angry husband's arm. "It is okay, darrrling," she purred, her tail still whisking, and then, to Logan, she added, "I only did it to save the turkey's life. It was the only way to stop him in time."
"Don't get me started on th' damn turkeys," Logan growled. "Only Morph an' Xavier would come up with mutant turkeys. Get 'em outta here, an' leave us behind."
"But, Logan," Kurt started to interject.
Logan unsheathed his claws. "I'll come when I come, Elf, an' that's it."
Nightcrawler nodded, his tail curling around his blue legs. "Fine." He turned back to their friends. "You heard ze man. Amanda, are you ready?"
"Yes, Kurt."
Celina had already released Victor from her telepathic hold, but he stayed standing where he was and watched through wide, green eyes as the two X-Men, their lady friends, and the flock of talking turkeys disappeared through the portal the redheaded Witch opened. Then, he was alone again in the forest but yet still not alone as Wolverine had stayed with him. Logan grinned, and they both let their claws down.
"Do I wanna know?" Victor asked, and Logan shook his head.
"Nah." He snorted and rolled his eyes, a habit he'd picked up from his youngest teenager, Jubilee. "But I'll tell ya any way. Couplea years ago, Morph stopped us from havin' our Thanksgiving dinner. Turned out th' turkey was a mutant, an' now it looks like that turkey's decided to save th' rest o' his kind that he can."
"But comin' to Canada?" Vic asked, grinning at the hilarity of the situation.
"Yeah, I know." Logan snorted. "Whoever heard o' turkeys in Canada? Guess they were tryin' to do like most folks back in th' war an' run away."
"Keep 'em down there in America," Victor warned him, "or we'll end up havin' a Turkey Day up here too. We don't need that stupidity."
"No," Logan agreed with a chuckle, his eyes dancing with mirth, "no more than th' rest o' us need to have ta loosen our belts another couplea inches."
Victor shook his head and gazed at the man who, even after all this time and all the countless times they'd come so close to almost killing each other, was still the only real friend he had. "So what are ya still doin' here?" he asked. "I know ya wanna go get some food."
Wolvy's eyes glowed. "There's somethin' else I'd rather eat."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He pounced on him, knocking him to the snow-covered ground, and as the icy winds whipped all about them and the snow began to fall heavier, he kissed him long and hard, his tongue thrusting into his heated mouth and his sword pushing against his massive member that was already roaring with need through their clothes.
Victor smiled against Logan's mouth and returned his kiss. His own tongue shoved up into his mouth and twisted around Logan's. He rolled over and penned the smaller man beneath him, then lifted his head from his for just a moment and tossed his flying, blonde hair behind his shoulders. "I just found a reason to say thanks," he admitted, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yeah?" Logan asked, his eyes sparkling as he smiled up at him. "Fer what?"
"Fer th' fact that you're not a complete idiot." Sabertooth grinned, and the feral predator in him glowed in the snowy woods. "Yet."
"Are ya sure? 'Cause I was kinda thinkin' I might be, what wit' gettin' lost out here in th' snow with ya."
"Ya know there's nothin' more ya'd rather do."
"'Cept save th' world."
"Th' world can wait," Victor growled and grinned from ear to ear when Logan agreed.
"Yeah, it can." They kissed again in the snowy landscape of their home and rolled across the hills, marking each other with kisses so sizzlingly hot that they threatened to melt the snow and licks, bites, and claws that marked each other forever more as theirs.
Thanksgiving Day was a stupid, American holiday, but the Canadians did have a reason to say thanks. They showed their gratitude all the rest of the day; throughout the night, as well; and into the next day for the one thing for which they were still most grateful: each other and the wild, primal, passionate, and loving connection they shared that no one, neither man, nor mutant, nor turkey, would ever pull asunder.
The End
Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: R due to sexual content
Summary:
Warnings: Slash, Het, Established Pairings
Word Count: 2,458
Date Written: 21 November, 2011
Challenge: For the XDisneyDreamers LJ comm's weekly challenge and a DiteysBlessings LJ comm's monthly challenge
Timeline: Sequel to the author's The Turkey Caper
Disclaimer: Logan/Wolverine, Victor "Sabertooth" Creed, Morph, Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner, Amanda "Daytripper" Sefton, and the X-Men are © & TM Marvel comics and Disney, neither of which are the author, and are used without permission. Celina Lewis, all other characters mentioned within, and everything else is © & TM the author. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
He was the only man in the forest, and he could hear every sound around him for miles on end. Most of the other animals were deeply asleep, and he could hear their snores as well as the snuffling of the few animals who remained awake during the winter time as they sought out food. The tall, pine trees swayed in the gentle, but cold, winter breeze, and he could hear snow falling and covering the icy ground all throughout the forest.
He was alone, -- Victor grinned, his fangs gleaming in the early morning sunlight --, and that was exactly how he preferred it. He made his way through the forest, his boots sinking deep in the snow and leaving footprints that only a fool would dare to follow. If any one did follow them, it would just prove to make his day even more fun, but no one would. There was no one here but him, and no one would be coming.
He'd left every one he knew, the whole world, far behind just as he did every holiday. This wasn't a day that Victor had ever celebrated. It was an American holiday, and whereas the idiots statewide were running around, stuffing food in their guts, and making themselves fatter, and even a few of his own country men were joining in on the pig out, Victor had always found the day rather stupid. Back in its time, perhaps it hadn't been so bad when two sets of people from completely different cultures had come together. Since those olden days of America's early "settlement", however, Thanksgiving's true meaning had become forgotten in the annals of history. It was now a day that was all about the food and the shopping that followed, and Vic doubted that there was even one person who still celebrated it for the original holiday the way it had began all that time ago.
"Hmph." A sound that was somewhere between a bark of derision and a condescending chuckle broke out of his deep throat. Even back then, humans had been idiots. The British had claimed they were settling a new land when that land had already been settled hundreds of years before. They had broke bread with the Indians, and the Indians eventually, like all idiots humans were, had accepted the white men into their homes, shared their meals with them, traded for their guns and drugs, and eventually been killed for sharing their lives and their world.
{Serves 'em right,} he thought darkly, reaching the top of a mountain and looking out over the vast wilderness that surrounded him. The icy wind blew his long hair back behind his broad and muscular shoulders, and snowflakes swirled in his blonde locks. His green eyes gleamed with pride. Humans were idiots, and they got what they deserved, just like all those who were stupid enough to open themselves up to outsiders and share with them what little they had.
Victor didn't have many material objects, but then he had no need of the things with which most men surrounded themselves. Give him beer, smokes, one decent outfit, and a bike, and he was set to go. And go he would to wherever he wanted whenever he wanted, and whatever he claimed when he got there as his belonged to him only. If anybody ever tried to take his land from him, he'd gut 'em and bury them on the outskirts of his land as a warning to others not to come into his territory. And this, he thought, this Canadian land with its rich soil, tall trees, frozen frontier, and varied wildlife, was his land. No matter where else he went in the world, these woods were his home, his land, and he'd never let any one or thing take them from him.
He raised his head in the wind and sniffed, letting the scents of his home wrap around him. He could smell every animal, every rock, and tree, and then his feral, emerald orbs snapped open as he smelled scents that did not belong. His upper lip curled backwards, and a savage growl emitted from deep within him, coming not just from his chest and gut but from his very soul. There were intruders in his forest, intruders, he recognized, listening to the words he could just barely make out, speaking American English!
He growled again, and then he laughed, his green eyes shining and deadly claws extending. This pack of Americans had made their last mistake. They were going to be his Thanksgiving dinner. He scaled down the side of the mountain, jumped agilely across the rocks forging a trail over a bubbling creek that was already beginning to turn to ice, and sprinted across the land. His booted feet fell silently across the snow, no longer making any tracks as he chose not to leave any sign of his progress behind him. He ran for miles, his anger growing into a silent and deadly fury as he listened to the strangers' words.
"They're called the X-Men," the leader spoke in an odd accent. His English was definitely American. Yet his voice was garbled even to Victor's superior hearing, and Vic knew it wasn't because of the distance that separated them. It was the way the guy normally spoke, but he'd never heard of a speech impediment that made a voice sound so garbled. "They saved me, and they'll save us all!"
"But they're humans!"
"They won't save us; they'll eat us!"
Victor's brow furrowed in confusion, but he kept running.
"They're not humans. They're mutants. They understand what's it like to be different, and they've devoted their lives to making our world a place where every one can live together in peace, humans, mutants, or animals!" The leader squawked suddenly as Victor burst upon the scene.
The wild mutant turned slowly, his green eyes growing as large and round as dinner plates and his mouth hanging agape as he stared at the group that he had found. One of the beings fluttered his wings. "Is this one?" he asked, his voice also gobbling.
"I don't know," the leader answered truthfully, eyeing Victor's large and menacing frame from beady, black eyes. "They have a lot of members, a lot of friends." Victor whirled on him, his claws extending, as he hobbled boldly closer to him. "Are you an X-Man?"
Victor's eyes flashed. His claws slashed, and the speaker jumped back, his wings fluttering in fright, just in time to barely miss being cut open. "I ain't no fuckin' X-Man!" Victor raged. "An' just what th' Hell are you things?!"
"Isn't it obvious?" the leader gobbled. His beady, black eyes blinked up at Sabertooth. "We're turkeys."
Victor snorted. He gazed at the flock like a hungry cat and ran his tongue across his fangs. "Maybe ya were," he answered, "but I ain't ever known a turkey to talk. Don't matter." He grinned. "Ya just became dinner."
The turkeys screamed and, gobbling at the top of their lungs, began to run around like the proverbial chickens with their heads cut off. Victor was just beginning to chase after them when a woman's voice cut through the air. "Release them," she commanded just as he grabbed one. His hands were steadily starting to pull on the screaming bird's neck when he felt a telepathic force enter his head. He growled as he tried to block her, but the woman took swift control. He had released the bird before he even knew what had happened.
Victor turned toward where he could smell cat, human, and mutant and snarled. A being who was half cat and half woman stood tall as she looked at him; she was flanked on either side by X-Men. Her blue eyes pierced his emerald orbs. The icy wind blew across her creamy white and chocolate black fur and whipped her long, black hair and furry tail, but she seemed not to notice the weather as she gazed calmly at him. "Get th' fuck outta my mind," Victor growled.
She smiled gently, and he ached to wipe her grin off of her face but could not yet break free of the telepathic hold in which she had caged him. "As soon as you promise to leave the turkeys alone."
"What th' fuck kind o' a game is this?" Victor howled, enraged. "Let go o' me, bitch, an' I might not be so slow in breakin' yer, pretty little neck!"
The X-Man called Morph stepped before the catwoman, his body shifting instantly into a copycatted form of Sabertooth's. Victor could smell the woman's scent all over the shapeshifter and realized that she must be his mate. "Ya ain't gonna hurt her," Morph growled, his voice sounding eerily like Victor's own, "or I'll rip ya to pieces."
On the other side of the catwoman stood the wiser X-Man called Nightcrawler. Despite his Demonic appearance, Victor knew that Kurt Wagner possessed a very peaceful soul. His long, blue tail slashed through the winter air, its pointed tip twitching a hundred times a minute. His fangs gleamed as he warned his friends, "It is unwise to taunt Sabertooth, Morph. You know zat. Victor, leave ze turkeys be, and ve vill not have to fight."
Victor laughed, and his grin was deadly. "Maybe I wanna fight, Elf. Maybe I wanna feel yer blood run through my claws."
Finally, the only one of the lot who he actually gave a flame about and whose scent he had caught the moment the X-Men had teleported there, with the help of the redheaded woman standing behind Kurt, stepped forward. Logan threw his finished cigar to the ground and stubbed it out underneath his booted foot. "Ya don't wanna mess wit' 'em, Vic," he growled, his eyes and fangs both gleaming in invitation, "when ya can tussle wit' me. Get yer damn friends outta here, Morph," Logan continued, putting himself between the X-Men and turkeys and his former partner, "an' let go o' 'im, Celina."
The catwoman's long, chocolate tail whipped through the cold air. "Are you sure, Logan?" she asked.
He snorted. "Not only am I sure I want ya to let go o' 'im, but I better never find ya takin' control o' his mind again. We don't play that way on Earth. Ya take over his mind again, an' I'll gut ya myself."
"Wolverine!" Morph declared.
Celina put a soothing hand on her angry husband's arm. "It is okay, darrrling," she purred, her tail still whisking, and then, to Logan, she added, "I only did it to save the turkey's life. It was the only way to stop him in time."
"Don't get me started on th' damn turkeys," Logan growled. "Only Morph an' Xavier would come up with mutant turkeys. Get 'em outta here, an' leave us behind."
"But, Logan," Kurt started to interject.
Logan unsheathed his claws. "I'll come when I come, Elf, an' that's it."
Nightcrawler nodded, his tail curling around his blue legs. "Fine." He turned back to their friends. "You heard ze man. Amanda, are you ready?"
"Yes, Kurt."
Celina had already released Victor from her telepathic hold, but he stayed standing where he was and watched through wide, green eyes as the two X-Men, their lady friends, and the flock of talking turkeys disappeared through the portal the redheaded Witch opened. Then, he was alone again in the forest but yet still not alone as Wolverine had stayed with him. Logan grinned, and they both let their claws down.
"Do I wanna know?" Victor asked, and Logan shook his head.
"Nah." He snorted and rolled his eyes, a habit he'd picked up from his youngest teenager, Jubilee. "But I'll tell ya any way. Couplea years ago, Morph stopped us from havin' our Thanksgiving dinner. Turned out th' turkey was a mutant, an' now it looks like that turkey's decided to save th' rest o' his kind that he can."
"But comin' to Canada?" Vic asked, grinning at the hilarity of the situation.
"Yeah, I know." Logan snorted. "Whoever heard o' turkeys in Canada? Guess they were tryin' to do like most folks back in th' war an' run away."
"Keep 'em down there in America," Victor warned him, "or we'll end up havin' a Turkey Day up here too. We don't need that stupidity."
"No," Logan agreed with a chuckle, his eyes dancing with mirth, "no more than th' rest o' us need to have ta loosen our belts another couplea inches."
Victor shook his head and gazed at the man who, even after all this time and all the countless times they'd come so close to almost killing each other, was still the only real friend he had. "So what are ya still doin' here?" he asked. "I know ya wanna go get some food."
Wolvy's eyes glowed. "There's somethin' else I'd rather eat."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He pounced on him, knocking him to the snow-covered ground, and as the icy winds whipped all about them and the snow began to fall heavier, he kissed him long and hard, his tongue thrusting into his heated mouth and his sword pushing against his massive member that was already roaring with need through their clothes.
Victor smiled against Logan's mouth and returned his kiss. His own tongue shoved up into his mouth and twisted around Logan's. He rolled over and penned the smaller man beneath him, then lifted his head from his for just a moment and tossed his flying, blonde hair behind his shoulders. "I just found a reason to say thanks," he admitted, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yeah?" Logan asked, his eyes sparkling as he smiled up at him. "Fer what?"
"Fer th' fact that you're not a complete idiot." Sabertooth grinned, and the feral predator in him glowed in the snowy woods. "Yet."
"Are ya sure? 'Cause I was kinda thinkin' I might be, what wit' gettin' lost out here in th' snow with ya."
"Ya know there's nothin' more ya'd rather do."
"'Cept save th' world."
"Th' world can wait," Victor growled and grinned from ear to ear when Logan agreed.
"Yeah, it can." They kissed again in the snowy landscape of their home and rolled across the hills, marking each other with kisses so sizzlingly hot that they threatened to melt the snow and licks, bites, and claws that marked each other forever more as theirs.
Thanksgiving Day was a stupid, American holiday, but the Canadians did have a reason to say thanks. They showed their gratitude all the rest of the day; throughout the night, as well; and into the next day for the one thing for which they were still most grateful: each other and the wild, primal, passionate, and loving connection they shared that no one, neither man, nor mutant, nor turkey, would ever pull asunder.
The End