It hit Logan what was wrong with her then. The reason for the roiling in her stomach, the crying, the tattered emotions. She tried not to think it as if Lorcan could read her mind. Logan chewed on her lip trying to get the tears to cease, but they refused. “You can’t become a hybrid,” she said in a soft hoarse voice. She didn’t want him to damn himself to a life as basically a half vampire. “No one’s immortal, Lorcan. Everyone can die.” It was the harsh fact that Logan had learned over the years and now that she realized what was wrong with her she was sure she would die. All she needed was a clear confirmation of it. “There’s something wrong with me, Lorcan,” she stated simply as she wiped at her cheeks. “Something bad wrong.”
"I can and will become a hybrid. Its my destiny. What does it matter anyways, we already decided we aren’t going to procreate…" He trailed off. She had decided long ago that they would be bad parents and Lorcan couldn’t really argue that fact. His own father abandoned him long ago and look where it left him. He was a remorseless murderer. He oft killed without a second thought to the pain it caused not only his victims, but their families and even the ones around Lorcan himself. Months back he had accidentally murdered the adopted father of his love and until realizing who it was, he hadn’t a care in the world. "Just go to sleep. That’s what I’m going to do." Lorcan got up and stumbled his way back down the hallway and landed on the couch before drifting off to sleep.
Logan did something wildly uncharacteristic of her; she began to cry. The tears were huge and her whole body. “It’s not that your fucking drunk,” she wailed through her tears. She put her face in hands and wept, trying to pull herself together, but she knew her composure was lost. She looked up from her hands at him bleary eyed. “You come home at all hours of the night and you came in covered in blood. You’re going to get killed and I just can’t handle that shit, Lorcan. I couldn’t handle mom being dead and I sure as hell won’t be able to handle you being dead too,” she said very quietly. Her voice straining to be above a whisper. She took back up her crying because she didn’t know what else to do about her girlish display of emotion or the breakdown of her relationship with Lorcan.
"I’m not going to get killed. There are only a few things strong enough to kill me and they’re hiding currently. And once your pompous ass of a brother shares his hybrid gift, I’ll be virtually immortal. You’re just being paranoid. So please stop crying now" Lorcan wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He was sure that the last time he had seen her cry was ages ago and he wasn’t really in a state of mind to play therapist. She really needed to get over her fears or whatever was causing her breakdown. It was really starting to bring Lorcan down and he didn’t need that nagging feeling with everything on the line against Katherine.
Logan felt the girlish urge to cry in anger and scream at the top of her lungs. This was a night from the pits of hell. “No, King Lorcan, it’s your fucking rug now,” she hissed. She felt bone tired and still nauseous. There was something not right with her. Logan never got sick like this unless she was heavily intoxicated. She pointed a finger at his naked form and the expression on her face was frightening. Her blue eyes appeared a stormy gray and her face was shadowed. “I love every piece of you, but I am your equal. I’m not just some bitch. I am the bitch.” She crawled toward him, avoiding the vomit that made her own stomach roil like crazy. She brought her face close to his. She gritted her teeth to keep the stench of liquor and bile from getting to her too badly. “You respect me at all times. I don’t care how drunk you are,” she said in a low tone. “You owe me a new rug, you fucker.”
If this were any other person, Lorcan would have had enough to rip them apart and parade around town with their head on a stick. No one talked to Lorcan like that. No one. Except Logan. She was the one thing he would never have the heart to kill. “Why are you being such a fucking bitch to me. When you get drunk its all just fun and games. Why do I get the yelled at when I come home drunk? This is bullshit, Logan.” He had a few ideas. It could have been that he always came home covered in blood.
"Excuse me?" Logan snapped, looking down at the inebriated Lorcan intensely. "I bought that rug. Fuck you." Never had she ever wanted to punch Lorcan like she did now. "I will rip your fucking guts out. I am not just some female." Logan couldn’t believe he was demeaning her like this, she didn’t care if he was drunk or not. She bit down on her lip and drew blood, the pain a momentary distraction from her anger. Logan stood up and walked to where he was lying and then sat down beside him. "I promised you I would break your perfect fucking nose, Lorcan and I sure as hell will," she said through gritted teeth. "You may be the macho alpha male here, but I am the alpha female and I am your equal." She felt more wolf than human now. Her voice sounded like an angry guttural growl. Logan felt ready to commit murder or vomit at any given moment.
"My house, my rug. If you want to fight about it then you can wait until I’m sober and challenge me like a wolf instead of an angry woman." He was tired. He wanted to go to sleep and she was getting on his last nerve. He was half way between passing out and fighting her. He didn’t want to hurt her but she didn’t understand that a man’s castle is his domain. Whether the castle be a literal one or a cozy cabin in the woods. He mustered the strength to sit up one last time and stared at Logan in the eyes. "You wouldn’t dare. You love my-" and with that a little bit of vomit came up and drizzled down his chin before landing on the rug. It was only a little bit in comparison to how much he had drank, but it was still quite a bit. He wiped off his chin with his arm and looked back at her. "Okay, its your rug." And then he rolled back over off of the rug and away from the vomit.
Logan followed a crawling Lorcan like an exasperated mother of a toddler to the bedroom. She crossed her arms and waited for his drunken speech t be over with. She could not recall ever acting like this when she was drunk and even if she had, she was thankful she could not remember it. “While I will admit that I love the view of you nude, hon, but I just feel like a creepy voyeur looking at your naked ass on my rug in the middle on the night,” Logan said while walking to the dresser. She pulled off her sopping wet night shirt and threw it on the floor, replacing it with a dry one. She pulled out a shirt and a pair of boxers for Lorcan while she was at it and threw them on him. Lo knew he would get mad, but she also knew he was too drunk to put up much of a fight.
"I can’t make sure you don’t aspirate on the floor and sure as hell am not sleeping on it with you," she said, her tone had a steel edge. She wasn’t what you would call pleased with him right now. Logan went and sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his naked form expectantly. She would put his clothes on him if she had to, but she wasn’t going to like it. "Just please pull your clothes on and come to bed before I vomit again." Her stomach was starting to roll again and she really hoped that it was just some stupid wolf virus.
"Who’s rug? Last time I remembered this was my place and I let you stay here. Let’s not forget that dearest. This is my rug." He rolled over. He was exposed but it was nothing she hadn’t seen before and it was damn hard to get comfortable on a floor. He felt the clothes land on him and his anger was rising. "Just leave me alone. I’m a grown man and an alpha male. I don’t need a female taking care of me. Fuck off already." He felt the urge to vomit and stopped short of his tirade. He held it down and his stomach settled. He rolled back over onto his stomach and sunk into the rug.
Logan watched him with thinly veiled amusement. She was also pretty sure he had called her a bitch, but his language so slurred that she couldn’t be sure. He was in no position to fight her now. Logan calmly padded into the bathroom. “Well, at least you made this first part easy for me,” she muttered. She had no idea as to how she was going to get the behemoth of a man cleaned and clothed, but she knew that she would manage some how. With as much gentleness as she could muster she eased off Lorcan’s boxers, the last article of clothing on his body. She turned on the tap and plugged the drain. Lo tested the water, making sure it was luke warm and let the water fill the Lorcan filled tub. Logan sighed and turned the water off and grabbed a clean wash rag from the cabinet.
Logan prayed for the first time she had in a while as she put soap on the rag. “Don’t kill me, okay?” She said as she gingerly began to wash the blood from his face. Logan felt a bit like crying and she could not pin down why. She felt so much hate toward Katherine and sadness about how her relationship with Lorcan had deteriorated. Logan just wanted it to be back to normal. When they were playful smart asses without a care in the world. The bath water was a sickly pink color and Logan felt her stomach roiling again, but she kept the bile pushed down. She had to take care of Lorcan, not puke her guts out like some weak human woman. “You sure got yourself in a predicament,” Logan said as she went about her task. She had never realized that bathing another person was such a laborious work. Toweling him off was a nightmare and by the end of that Logan was wet and tired and just wanted the night to end. “Can you dress yourself?” She asked, hoping that he would answer with a slurred yes.
When the water touched Lorcan, he jumped alive. Or not, he attempted to jump alive but ended up in a more or less thrashing about in the bathtub. He ran out of strength for the moment and resigned to sink below the water. Interesting enough, Lorcan wasn’t sure how long he could hold his breath, but he was sure he could pull himself out of it before he drowned, hopefully. He managed to muster his strength long enough to sit up. “I got myself in to nothing. I’m perfectly innocent on this particular occasion.” He stopped to ponder a second. “Where are my clothes?” He was rather confused on everything that was currently transpiring. All he knew was that he wasn’t happy about whatever it was.
"I’m not a puppy. You can stop that." He pushed her hands aside and tried to pull himself out of the bathtub before tumbling out of it and sprawling out on the floor. Remnants of water pooled at his side. He held he crawled his way out the bathroom door and pulled himself into the bedroom before sprawling out on the rug at the foot of the bed. "Why should I dress myself? It’s my fucking house and I’ll sleep naked on a rug if I want to." Lorcan wasn’t sure if that was the wolf talking or the drunk, but either way it was his decision.
Logan bowed down the proverbial porcelain god and payed her respects by retching up the entire contents of her stomach and then some. Her stomach muscles felt sore and she wondered why Lorcan was not in here with her doing his duties as mate. Then she heard the thump. He had fallen, she was sure of it. God is finally punishing me for all those night James took care of me, Logan thought pushing herself up from the floor and flushing the toilet. She brushed her teeth quickly and threw her hair up in a ponytail. She entered the living room and there was Lorcan splayed across the wooden floor. Logan would throw a fit when he was sobered up and not as bruised, probably by tomorrow evening.
She lowered herself to the cold wood floor beside Lorcan and shook her head at the sight of him. “If you want my help, I am going to have to emasculate you,” she said, her voice hoarse from vomiting. “You will not fuss at me, nor will you pull any macho man bullshit. You will comply to me.” The last thing Logan needed right now was Lorcan to go on a liquor fueled tirade over how he was not her puppy to bathe and clothe and feed. “I am going to give you a bath and put you to bed and we can deal with this in the morning.” Logan sighed, tapping her nails on the floor. “Is that okay with you, babe?”
Lorcan couldn’t manage to raise his head so instead he just mumbled into the floor. “Don’t you-mbbbmmbn-ing touch mnb” He was not a puppy and he was fine. He’d be fine with a few hours of sleep on the cold floor. He was not going to be bathed like a flea-ridden puppy. If he could only get these limbs to work properly, he would be able to properly protest. He attempted to push up off of the floor and hit the ground again with a thud. He noticed the small puddle of red that had collected around his face and realized he must have hit the wall originally a little bit harder than he had intended.
"Fuckmbm bullbmbvcit walmbs" he said, looking over at the wooden barrier to his left. He just wanted to sleep, and now was pissed off at Logan, and at the cabin itself for hindering that. He managed one final push and was able to sit up. "I just want to go to sleep." He managed to grab a hold of a door knob and pull himself up. He stumbled a few feet towards the bathroom and collapsed into the bathtub. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep against the cold porcelain, He propped up a leg over the side of the tub and attempted to remove his socks and the rest of his clothes until he was down only to his boxer shorts. The cold porcelain against his nearly naked skin was blissful.
"Mrs. Howard?" She spat through gritted teeth. Logan could not believe Lorcan’s audacity. “If I wanted to be Mrs. Howard I would be, Lorcan Bane." Her voice was stiff and though deep down she loved Lorcan more than life itself she wanted to gut him for his comment. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek to keep fantasies that involved her love’s entrails being strung up around the cabin like decorations. “You may think stuff like that is funny, but I don’t." Logan felt increasingly nauseous by the second. She swallowed hard, hoping that it would subside soon. Lo chalked it all up to her nerves and the overpowering smell of alcohol. “I love you, not James. Had I loved James I would be with him right now, but I am not, so just drop that nonsense."
Logan began to pace, but that only made her stomach lurch even more. Maybe she had caught some strain of the stomach flu werewolves were not resistant to. It’d be just her luck about now. Logan gagged when Lorcan doffed his shirt. Normally, she didn’t even flinch at blood and the wounds that came with it. “I believe you,” she said softly, trying to keep the bile from rising past her throat. “Lorcan, can we continue this fight in like five minutes?” She managed holding on to the wall to support her suddenly weakened body. “Follow me to the bathroom and hold my hair please. I’m going to be sick and I’m not doing this to divert the matter at hand I really am sick.” A wave of nausea hit her hard and she gagged once more. She felt like the contents of her stomach were trying to get their revenge on her. “I love you and I believe you and I promise after I throw up we will continue this fight if you want to,” she said once more before sprinting to the bathroom.
"Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you to love him though. Ever noticed how he refuses to commit to the witch he knocked up? Who do you think he’s waiting around for?" Lorcan wasn’t one for arguing, but she started it tonight. He wanted to just fall asleep and then clean himself up when he woke up. He started wiping the blood from his abdomen and then wiping his hands on the wall. The wall would be easier to clean tomorrow than his hands were at the moment. Things moved rather fast for the next few minutes and before he knew it, Logan was running to the bathroom.
Lorcan attempted to follow her to help her with whatever it was, but his blood alcohol level got the better of him and he instead tripped when his feet got stuck in the shirt he had tossed to the floor and he tumbled to the floor. He crashed to the floor and tumbled a ways across the floor before hitting the wall on the other side. He wanted to get up and help her, but everything in the world seemed to be fighting him and at this point, he was sure it was time to give up. He laid down in defeat and closed his eyes and waited for the yelling he knew was about to come.
Dependency? Dependency?Logan flew mad and had half the mind to slap Lorcan so hard that the offspring they’d never have would feel it. “If you die I’m going to be the next fucking Ms. Havisham,” she said harshly. “Besides you have no room to be talking about what’s healthy and what’s not, babe.” Logan had always been fiercely independent though she would admit Lorcan made her weak. As time wore on he only made her weaker. Logan Halse was like a lovelorn girl when it came to him. Love had once been a foreign thing to Lo, but now she had seen multiple facets of it. Right now she was facing her not so favorite facet of it all.
Lorcan knew exactly how to push her buttons. He would get in all close to her and try to charm her out of asking questions. “So, I guess you’re expecting me to fall in bed and let you have your drunken way with me?” It was a super tempting idea and she was possibly thinking of pinning him down to the bed earlier to relieve all of her bundled up tension. She shook her head in order to keep her thoughts from slipping too far away from the matter at hand, though his kissing her neck made her want to forget it all. “Someone’s in the ICU and I want the truth,” she said a little breathlessly. She could feel his body heat and her hormones kept prickling at her, wanting her to be as much of a sex kitten as a wolf could be. Logan put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him back a bit, look up at him with hooded eyes. “You can tell me the truth. You know that. We’ve been through too much for deceit.”
"More like Mrs. Howard, right?" That was probably a low blow. Lorcan wasn’t jealous, but he had always been suspicious of James even before he was Lorcan’s natural enemy by species alone. "And I’m completely healthy, what the fuck does that even mean? You’re not making any sense right now, Logan." Drunken deflection was Lorcan’s specialty. He had been in plenty of these exact same arguments with his brother before moving to Mystic Falls. His brother would catch him drunk and bloody, although back then it was merely a broken nose or a bloody knuckle, and then try to chastise him. Lorcan had plenty of practice changing the subject.
"And no, I’m not. Can’t a guy kiss his lady without ulterior motives?" That was probably one of the first honest things he had said all night. "I told you. Some guys were being dicks to me. I got in to a fight. They’re alive, barely. It was their lucky night after all." He turned away and walked back to the chair before bending over it and grabbing a hold of it to steady himself as he peeled the bloody mess of a shirt off of himself and tossed it against a wall with a rather sickening splat causing the blood do run down the wall like a photograph of a crime scene placed into evidence against his crimes. "I’m not lying to you."