"So then I said to him, 'Maybe it's like Brigadoon. Come back in a hundred years, and it'll be in the same spot.’"
She giggled, tipping her head back and exposing her throat. He could scarcely ever miss that sort of opportunity, so he leaned forward and bit it, making her sound as if she could decide whether to gasp or keep laughing. He backed up instantly, feigning innocence as she glared at him. "You are incorrigible," she observed. "And also very mean. That was a terrible thing to say to him after his car had been stolen."
Logan shrugged, stretching and slinging an arm over her shoulders. "He was a drug dealer."
Minako snorted into her glass of water, holding her hand over her mouth to keep from spitting. She swallowed after a moment, holding her throat as if it had been a bit painful. "Oh, well that makes your comment completely understandable."
"It makes him less sympathetic," Logan clarified.
"Well, you're a jackass," Minako informed him. "But you still demand sympathy."
“I’m also very good-looking,” he pointed out. “I don’t need to demand sympathy. It naturally falls upon my broad, muscular shoulders.”
Minako nodded. “Oh, yes. You’re very manly with your musical theater references.”
“Do you have any idea how many productions my sister dragged me into when I was a kid?” Logan asked, slightly affronted by her insinuation. “She wanted to be the actress, and dear old mom and dad wanted us to develop a relationship since it was very clear to me that she was the child of Satan and she was jealous that I was prettier than she was. So they put us in all of these community center crap fests where they made me were lipstick and tap dance and all that shit.”
Minako, who Logan suspected had at one time had possessed similar career goals but now didn’t do much of anything at all, looked dubious. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”
He stared at her very seriously and said, “I was in Cats. Twice.”
She winced in sympathy, laying her head on his chest. “Oh, you poor thing. I am so very, very sorry.”
Logan sighed pathetically, running his fingers through her hair. He let a moment of silence pass between them before he looked down at her and asked, “Does this mean I get pity sex?”
Minako reached around and punched him in the arm. She likely thought it was light, but Minako’s idea of a playful punch differed from his own. “You might have gotten any sex period, but you won’t now.”
Logan didn’t pay much attention both because he very much doubted that and because his arm really fucking hurt. “I think you broke my arm.”
She rolled her eyes cutely. “Wimp.”
“No, seriously. That hurt.”
“I repeat. Wimp.”
“You hit like a man,” Logan observed, glaring a bit.
“And you take it like one,” Minako countered with a grin.
Logan glared at her for a moment and then promptly tackled her. She squealed when his hands closed around her forearms, his thumbs pushing into her wrists so that he could feel her pulse. She pretended to try and wiggle away, but she stopped protesting altogether when his lips caught own. Then she relaxed considerably, and Logan began to think that perhaps she was going to reconsider that pity sex thing.
And then someone knocked at the door.
Minako began to turn away, staring at the entrance to her apartment. “The hell?”
“Ignore it,” Logan instructed, annoyed with Minako, the person knocking, and the door itself for allowing someone to knock on it. “It’s probably just a salesman or something.”
“But--" Minako found herself cut off when Logan kissed her again, his hands moving from her arms to her hips. It worked effectively for about two minutes until the knocker made his presence known again.
“Go away!” Logan shouted. “A little busy trying to get busy!”
Minako’s poked him. “You can’t just shout things like that. What if it were my mother?”
“Then you’d probably be the one shouting it,” Logan said. Minako hadn’t said a thing about her mother, but he’d been on the receiving end of a lot of “I hate my mother” rants. He believed he was correct in assuming that deep down, all women hated their mothers.
“I would have at least had a Spanish accent so she didn’t think it was me,” Minako grumbled. “Come on. Let me up. I should answer it.”
“No, I think your time can be put to much better use,” Logan said, leaning down to kiss her neck.
Minako shivered a bit. “Not fair.”
“You know I fight dirty,” Logan whispered before going right back to what he was doing. He was about to silently declare his victory as her hands wound around his neck…
And the asshole knocked a third time.
“They’re not leaving,” Minako sighed, moving her hands to Logan’s chest to move him away.
“If we ignore them long enough, they will,” Logan quipped. “Or if I tell them to go the fuck away!”
“Stop being a bitch,” Minako instructed as she pushed him off when the person at the door knocked again, this time far more urgent than the last. She got to her feet, grabbing her water as she passed by the coffee table. “I am answering the door now. We can continue with the other stuff when I’m done.”
Logan laid back on the couch so that he couldn’t see what was going on, sighing dramatically. “All right. I’ll just sit here… All alone. My sex drive slowly dwindling down to nothing.”
“I will hit you again,” Minako called out. “And then I’ll still answer the door.”
Logan just sighed again as he heard Minako undo the various locks on her door. Then he heard her pull it open, cheerfully preparing to greet whoever it was on the other side. But then he didn’t hear anything for what felt like the better part of a minute. Not until he heard the sound of something hitting the floor.
“Mina?” he called. “Who is it?”
“Oh my God,” she whispered, though he almost didn’t catch it.
Worried, Logan propped himself up on his elbows to see just who was at the door. He was a bit surprised to see a very tall man at the door, hands deep in his pockets, and looking at Minako as if he was every bit as surprised to see her as she was too see him. Logan got to his feet, walking forward in order to get a better look at him. He had what Logan could only describe as silver hair and grey eyes. Logan also thought that he seemed very solid, like a giant boulder standing at the door, and it made Logan momentarily feel like he was smoke on the wind, intangible and easily waved away.
“Who are you?” Logan asked the stranger directly, also noticing that Minako had dropped her glass of water.
The stranger looked over at Logan, and while Logan would have assumed that he would have turned right back to Minako, he held eye contact with Logan and said, “I’m a friend from Tokyo.”
“No,” Minako breathed, shaking her head. “No, you… You’re not. You can’t…” She took a step back, tripping a bit. Logan and the stranger both reached out to steady her, and she jumped when his hand closed around her forearm. She pulled it away, staring at him in shock, as if she hadn’t expected him to do that… No, as if she hadn’t expected him to be able to do that. “You can’t be here.”
It was then that Logan began to realize what was happening. Minako hadn’t told him much about her past, but she had told him about one person. And Logan didn’t think it was jumping to conclusions to deduce that it was Minako’s dead boyfriend at the door.
He was right. Everything was like Brigadoon. The past always comes back.
