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“Shit. This place makes the Four Seasons look like an Econolodge.”

“I didn’t even know Wakanda had its own five-star hotel.”

“Here’s their brochure,” Hank rumbled, handing Alex the glossy tri-fold. “They’re a Hilton affiliate, too.”

“What floor are we on again?”

“Dunno. But I’m not rooming with Hank again, he takes forever in the shower.”

“So, you’d rather I licked every inch of blue fur clean instead and kack up a hairball during dinner, just to save you the last of the hot water, Popsicle?”

“Scott, what time were we s’posed to meet Stark?”

“Five-ish. He and Luke are taking the same jet.”

“Must be nice for Cage to have a night off from diaper duty.”

“Anyone seen Logan?”

“He’s at the bar.”

“Figures.”

“I might join ‘im,” Hank sighed. “I could use a beer, or anything strong enough to wash that taste of tarmac out of my mouth.”

“The taste?” Bobby raised an eyebrow.

“You know, that baked asphalt smell that you get on a really hot day that kind of steams up and chokes you as soon as you get off the plane? Doesn’t hurt that my senses are enhanced, either, Drake. Next time, go easier on the aftershave. Whew!”

“Ya think your furry hide smells like a friggin’ bouquet of roses after a fifteen-hour flight. Two words, Hank: Carpet Fresh!” Hank rolled his yellow eyes up to the ceiling, a deep sigh rumbling out from his chest.

“Just for that, I’m using every drop of shampoo. Every drop, Drake.”

“Ach! Ororo’s lucky not to be affected by extreme temperatures, my own fur’s sticking to me in this heat!” Kurt tugged his shirt collar away from his neck, undoing the top button for some relief. He yelped in surprise as something cold and wet slithered down his back. “ACH! BOBBY!”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned impishly. Alex chuckled as he watched Kurt’s contortions while he fought to shake the ice cube loose from his shirt.

“Can’t take you guys anywhere!”


Across the lobby, inside the bar:


“I was wondering where you’d gotten off to, tovarisch.”

“Needed to wet my lips. Pull up a seat.”

“I’ll have one of what he’s having,” Peter said, beckoning to the bartender and nodding at Logan’s beer.

“I’ll take one more of what I’m having, too, while yer at it.” Logan held up his empty bottle, swirling the last half-inch of liquid with emphasis before setting it down.

“Have you gotten your room yet?”

“Yup. Booked a single a couple of doors off the ice machine.” Third floor.

“Didn’t Mr. Stark book the whole penthouse floor for us?”

“Uh-huh.” Logan nodded his thanks to the bartender as he brought their drinks. “I need room to spread out. Hate feelin’ crowded,” he offered by way of explanation. Peter nodded with understanding, remembering how hemmed in he felt after coming back to the mansion after so many months underground. It took a pretty special occasion for him to accept staying within four walls, now.

“Let me know if you want me to leave you to your drink,” Peter offered.

“Nah. Stick around, boy.” Logan sipped his beer, then added grudgingly, “It’s really good ta have ya back, Petey.”

Peter grinned. “If I didn’t know better, my friend, I’d think you were going sentimental on me.”

“Yeah, well…you were dead. Make me get misty.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a happy occasion to bring us all together.”

Logan grunted.

“Anna Marie told me that Lorna’s wedding became a bit complicated.”

“That’s puttin’ it lightly. Nearly took Alex outta commission, and it took us a while ta find all the pieces of Bobby after he got in the way. Good booze, though.”

“Just think, tovarisch, now you’ll be able to say you know someone who married royalty.”

Logan grunted again.

“Wakanda’s an awfully long way from Westchester.”

“Ain’t exactly a stone’s throw away,” Logan agreed. He grunted again.

“Logan…this wedding may be the last opportunity we have to see Ororo for a long time. I know it was hard for you to come this weekend.”

“Naw. Growing back a severed limb’s hard.” Logan belched under his breath. “Losin’ the love of yer life’s hard. Burning up in the sun’s hard. This is a stag party, Pete. I’ve survived worse.”

“I’ve never seen anyone casually attend a bachelor party for the man who is marrying the woman he loves,” Peter quipped. Logan’s hand stilled as he reached into his breast pocket for his cigar.”

“Ya summed it up pretty well, Pete. I ain’t got a clue when I’ll see ‘Ro again. I’ve been down this road before.” Logan extended a claw and used it to trim his cigar. “I have this bad habit of fallin’ for the women I can’t have, or just can’t keep. Do I hurt? Damn straight I do. But am I such a selfish sonofabitch that I wish for any of ‘em ta be unhappy just ‘cause they didn’t stay with me? Uh-uh. ‘Ro’s good people.”

“She’s the best.” Peter took a long gulp of his drink. “The older sister that I never had.”

“And she’s an adult. She made her choice.”

“Have you talked to her about…?”

“Hell, no.” Logan glared menacingly at the bartender when he looked as if he would deny Logan his cigar. Logan flipped open his Zippo and lit the stogie, drawing in the bittersweet smoke like a drowning man gulping oxygen. He exhaled the plumes of smoke through his nostrils and closed his eyes with satisfaction. “There’s nothing else ta talk about.”

“Kitty said she took your gift to her. She said she would guard it with her life.”

“I believe her.”

“I still think you should have talked to her, Logan.”

“That’s just askin’ fer trouble. It ain’t a good idea ta interfere with anyone’s love life. Y’see, fer ‘Ro an’ me, it’s…it’s never been the right time. Never the right circumstances. Always something in the damned way.”

“Don’t you think you could have done something to fix that?”

“Like what? Tell the world ta quit turnin’?” The tuft of ashes glowed orange and crackled at the end of the cigar as Logan sucked on it, then pointed it at Peter to emphasize his words. ‘If it ain’t meant ta be, then it ain’t meant ta be.”

“Keep telling yourself that, then, if it helps you to sleep at night. I seem to remember that T’Challa and Ororo have been apart for many years, with very rare chances to see each other at all. It would seem that he took recent opportunities and ran with them, such as your last mission in Niganda.”

“What’s yer point?”

“My point is, T’Challa let Ororo get away once. Once, tovarisch. Think about that.” Peter tossed some money on the bar and clapped Logan on the shoulder before he left the salon.

“I think about it every night,” Logan muttered to his retreating back. He turned back to his drink and smoke.





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