The Curative - 3. Chapter 3

Logan hadn’t brought up the prescription issue again, thankfully. Things had gotten easier between us, though. I came up and watched movies or TV with him almost every night now, though I vehemently refused to watch football with him again. I swear to god my heart just about gave out when the Texans got the winning touchdown and Logan bellowed and started racing around the living room doing wheelies and scaring the hell out of the cats.

I caught him staring at me all the time now, as if he was trying to forcibly pry answers out through my ears with his eyes. The first time I caught him, I know I turned red as a tomato, and now I think he just does it to get a rise out of me.

Smarmy bastard.

It didn’t help that for all his faults, he was still just as gorgeous as the day I had first seen him. If anything, his gruffness only made my crush worse.

“Ow!” That’s what I get for trying to make dinner. I swear, even the pots know I’m two shots short of crazy. I wiped the scalding water of my hand and checked the noodles again before slamming a lid down on the offending pot.

“You okay, kid? I can take over, you know.” Logan rolled into the kitchen and took the lid off another pot on the lowered stove. He grabbed the spatula and started poking around, picking up a long piece of meat. “What the fuck is this?”

“Bacon.”

“Bacon. In spaghetti. I’m from Texas and I ain’t never heard of that.” He leveled a stare at me and growled “I’m hungry as a new mama penguin. You mess this up, you pay for the pizza.”

My eyes went wide, “Mama penguin?”

“Shut up. I know things.” He huffed at me haughtily and headed towards the living room. “Whadd’ya wanna watch tonight? It’s your pick.”

I turned back to my spaghetti and thought for a few minutes. We’d already been through most of my favorites, Dante’s Peak, Armageddon, Twister.

“You don’t pick somethin’ soon, we’re watching Commando again!”

I groaned. What was up with him and the Arnold?

I poked my head around the corner and waved at the movie case, “Uhm, D-Deep Impact?”

“What is it with you and the disaster crap? Where’s the fun in watching some volcano kill everyone? I’d rather watch hot guys in face paint go gun crazy.” He grabbed it off the case anyways and loaded it into the DVD player. “And stop stuttering.”

I blushed and ducked my head, hurrying back over to the stove. Everything looked done, so I switched off the stove and turned to grab plates.

“Ah!” My foot hit the counter and I tumbled towards the floor.

Ow. Jesus that hurt. I rubbed my elbow where I had banged it on my way down and sat, pouting for a moment.

“You’re the clumsiest motherfucker I’ve ever met.” Logan smirked down at me from his chair, amusement bright in his eyes.

Yeah, well.

“F-fuck you.”

He just snickered. Goddamnit he frustrated me. I pointedly ignored him as I situated my legs and tried to stand.

And fell right back down.

This time he didn’t just snicker, he full out cackled.

I gave up. I could feel heat suffusing my cheeks, and childish tears jumped to my eyes. My hands started to shake and I stuffed them into my armpits so that he wouldn’t see.

“Aw, come on.” Logan sounded almost contrite, once his laughter died down. I heard his wheels squeaking as he rolled towards me. I scooched myself further into the kitchen, refusing to look at him.

“Now now, none of that.” Suddenly his hands closed around my upper arms and dragged me backwards and up, straight into his lap.

“Logan!”

Christ. What was he trying to do to me? I could feel the warmth of his body against me, and his arms locked around my torso, caging me in. My cheeks burned brighter than ever and I struggled against him. I was not going to embarrass myself further by letting him see how turned on I was by a little touching. I shoved against him, finally managing to flop myself back onto the floor in a disgruntled heap.

He growled menacingly and reached for me again, grabbing my shirt and hauling me upright. I still refused to look at him, crossing my arms across my lap so that there wouldn’t be any evidence of my arousal. He sighed and I felt a fleeting touch across my hair.

“Fuck, kid. Calm down.” He reached for my hand and pressed it between his palms, stilling my shakes. “Go get your meds and take what you need, then get your ass back here and we’ll eat.”

I bobbed my head, still looking at the floor, and raced off for my bathroom. When I came back, Logan had situated himself on the couch, with Baxter in his lap. The rest of our little troupe was strewn around the room, tails wagging and tongues dripping.

“Don’t just stand there; I got your food here and the movies ‘bout to start.” He shoved a plate heaped with spaghetti and a lake of sauce at me.

We watched the movie in silence. I silently drooled over Elijah Wood. And for all Logan’s grumbling, I swear I could see his eyes get watery when Elijah dragged Leelee onto his moped and they escaped the wave, leaving her parents to die.

When it was over, I started grabbing all of the plates and garbage. I reached for his, but his hand clamped down over my wrist.

“Set it down, boy.”

My breath quickened and I nervously set the plates down, trying not to drop everything since he still held my free hand captive.

“Look at me.” I could feel my bones vibrating as I turned my eyes up. His eyes were locked onto mine, fiercely blue and intimidating. His mouth was slightly open, his breath escaping in short pants.

“Goddamn.”

I barely heard the word, just watched his lips move.

There was a slight jerk, and suddenly I was sprawled across his Logan’s lap.

“I-I’m so-sorry!” I tried to get up, terrified that he was going to laugh at me again.

“Idiot, I pulled you down.” His hands locked around my arms and pulled me so that I was facing him, still in his lap. “I’m really not that scary, am I?”

I shook my head.

“Good. You’ve been getting better with your words, but today it got worse again when I made fun of you. I’m sorry.” He tilted my head up so that I was forced to look at him, waiting until I nodded to let go. “All right. Now that that’s out of the way.”

His large hand wrapped around the back of my neck, encasing it in warmth. I shuddered and closed my eyes. His other hand pushed at my hip, arranging me so that I was lying across him .

What was he doing?

I slowly opened my eyes, taking a peek at him. He was staring up at me, smirking. The hand at my neck drew me downwards.

No way! Was he going to kiss me? No way no way no way. My heart thundered in my chest and my chest tightened painfully.

His breath fanned across my face, “Breathe, boy.”

I squeaked. He chuckled. His lips touched mine. They brushed over mine, once, twice, and then crushed in, stealing what breath I had managed to take in. I sunk into him, letting his hands control me. His lips were warm, and I could still feel his smirk even as he kissed me.

I tentatively poked out my tongue and licked his bottom lip. He groaned and returned the movement with force. His hands ran over my body, squeezing and groping.

Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing.

“What the fuck?” Logan peeled his mouth away from mine with a growl. One of his hands left mine to slap at the end table behind him, looking for the phone.

Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing.

“Fucking phone!” His bellow startled me out of the daze his kisses had put me into and I jumped up. He made a swipe for me, but I backed away.

I ignored his frown and escaped to the kitchen.

Holy fuck. Logan and I had made out. We’d kissed. A lot. And it was good kissing. My boner throbbed just thinking about it.

I shook my head and grabbed the pots and pans, shoving them into the sink and turning the hot water on. We’d kissed! Wash pot. I touched my lips. Wash another pot. My erection was not going down. I shoved my hand under the water.

“Ow!”

“Ryan? Come here.”

I froze. Hyperventilating yet again, I shyly walked into the living room. Logan was holding the phone, looking down at it quizzically. He heard me come in and held the phone out.

“It’s your mom.”

Well, there went my erection.