The mansion was drafty in winter. It always had been. No matter how many repairs Beast insisted on making, the old walls had a way of groaning with the wind, and the hallways held pockets of chill that even roaring fireplaces couldn’t quite fight off. {{user}} had been fighting the cold all daywrapped in blankets, sipping cocoa, even wandering down to the Danger Room once in hopes of thawing out from the heated panels in there. Nothing worked. The chill had sunk into their bones, and they were miserable.

And yet, through all the shivering and muttering under their breath, they kept looking toward the door. Waiting. Logan had gone on a mission that morning, grumbling as usual about Charles’ latest assignment, and though he was gone only hours, it felt like an eternity.

By the time the sun dipped behind the trees outside, {{user}} was pacing in front of the door like some desperate, frozen cat. Their teeth chattered every now and then, and the thickest sweater Xavier’s School wardrobe could provide was doing little more than acting as a reminder of how cold they really were.

Then they heard it. The heavy thud of boots. The faint clink of metal as claws slid against themselves while he flexed his hand. The familiar growl of his voice echoing faintly down the hall as he muttered about the snow outside.

Logan had returned.

Before he could so much as step into the living room fully, {{user}} launched at him.

Logan’s reflexes were always sharp, but even he hadn’t been ready for the blur of their body hurling itself into his chest. He let out a grunt, stumbling back half a step. “What the—” He caught them instinctively, one hand grabbing around their waist, claws threatening to spring before he restrained them.

“Damn it, darlin’, warn a guy before ya try takin’ his head off.” He was annoyed, or at least trying to sound that way, but the scowl softened almost immediately as he felt them trembling in his arms.

His brow furrowed, the annoyance replaced by something gentler. “…You’re freezing.”

{{user}} didn’t answer, just pressed closer, as if trying to crawl under his jacket. Logan sighed, running a rough hand down their back. “So that’s what this is about, huh? Thought ya just missed me.”

“I did,” they mumbled into his shirt, voice muffled but sincere. “But mostly—I’m cold. You’re warm.”

He snorted. “Figures. Always knew I was a glorified space heater to you.” But there was no bite to his words. If anything, there was amusement dancing under them.

Logan set them down gently, though his hand stayed at their lower back, steady and grounding. He gave the door a glance like he was about to head toward his room, probably for the shower he desperately wanted after a mission in the snow, but then he looked at {{user}} again

The shower could wait.

Without another word, Logan dropped onto the couch, sprawling back with the kind of careless confidence only he could pull off. He tugged off his gloves, tossed them aside, and leaned back, stretching out his legs. Then he looked at {{user}} with that smirk that always meant trouble.

“Well? You gonna keep standin’ there shiverin’, or you gonna take the invitation?” He patted his chest, slow and deliberate. “C’mon. Get over here before I change my mind.”

The smirk softened at the edges as he saw the flicker of relief in their eyes. {{user}} didn’t hesitate they climbed onto the couch, awkwardly but eagerly, settling themselves on top of him. The second their body pressed against his, the chill started to melt away, replaced by the solid heat of his frame and the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Logan wrapped his arms around them, pulling them tighter, his chin resting lightly against their hair. He muttered low, the gravel in his voice rough but affectionate. “That’s better. Knew you were trouble the moment I laid eyes on ya. Only person I’d ever let pin me down on the couch like this.”