In retrospect, Logan wasn’t sure what made him pick Bucky for this job. Not that Bucky was at all a bad choice, just that Logan’d had plenty of options. Hell, Hardy would’ve loved the chance to schmooze and steal. She’d’ve walked out with half the wallets of everyone in attendance, and the wedding rings of everyone besides. Or Frost, she’d’ve made a splash one way or another. Probably have a lot to say about the decorations. And the appetizers. And the music. And peoples’ outfits. And the venue- Actually, no, he doesn’t regret not bringing her. That would’ve been a crapshoot.
He wasn’t sure. Maybe he thought they both needed a night out. He sure as hell did. Mission aside, he’d do terrible things for a good quality brew. He was still mulling over his choices when Bucky came out in the dress.
He’s not wondering anymore. In fact, he’s not thinking much of anything. Just how much he owes Gloria, and how no price tag can make up for it. The moment the changing room door opens, the rest of the world just stops and falls away. Logan barely even noticed any other external stimuli. He didn’t hear the traffic anymore. Not the footsteps on the sidewalk. Barely even noticed his own heartbeat.Just what’s in front of him. Bucky looks like a dream - tall, strong, lithe. An apex predator caught in the sunlight. Or- moonlight, more accurately. All that silver… He might believe in God now. It compliments the metal of his arm perfectly - just like the fit compliments his everything else. Shit, did Logan forget to breathe? Maybe. Better fix that. ‘That bad, huh,’ Bucky says, and Logan almost laughs. Almost. There are still a few gears that need to click back into place before he can manage anything that complex. Easier just to stare and drink it all in.
Of course, the walking fantasy can’t go uninterrupted forever. Reality comes knocking, and Logan has to pay up. He doesn’t mind; you can’t put a price on what he’d just seen. Gloria tries. With all the green he pulls in with this gig, it’s petty cash, but it’d be worth it even if it wasn’t. Of course he tells Bucky not to worry about it. Keep the dress - and the shoes. It’s not like Logan has any use for them. Didn’t have the legs for it. (Not like Bucky did.)
The party can’t come soon enough.
When it is time to get in character, it’s even easier than it usually is. It helps to have some eye candy to flaunt - helps seeing his rivals jealous. Fucking snakes, all of them. Actual dealers, kidnappers, traffickers… The scum of the earth, living it up in good old down home Madripoor. Most of them had too much money to get their hands dirty directly, but some of them still carried the reek of blood, fear, gunpowder, various drugs, body fluids; the sort of bouquet that made him wanna lop off his nose and go without for a little bit. Alas, that would cause problems. Suck it up for now. Plaster on the smile, roll out the laugh, down the drinks - at least those are good. No expense spared behind the bar. (Actually, Frost might have actually approved of that. Hah, at least it’d be something.) Bucky, to his credit, plays his part perfectly. Charming and elegant. He moves through the crowd like a fish through a stream, scales glittering in the sunlight as the crowd - the water - shapes around him. He's in his element, it seems. Makes sense. How many times has he done something like this before? As a spy, as an agent, as a soldier? How many parties? How many people-? No, he doesn’t want to think about that. It’s pissing him off. Back to work.
It gets progressively easier to gather information as the night drags on. People drink, and they start talking. The different crime lords start bragging, and they don’t care who hears. They want people to hear. That works fine for Logan, because he wants to listen. He even has fun spurring them on. Oh, yeah? You say you cleared out an entire town of mutants? Bullshit, bet you couldn’t catch a cold. And if you did manage to catch a mutie, I bet their power was super-slow. Y’know, they can only move in slow motion? Something like that, that has to be it. Ain’t that right? And then they’d be desperate to prove him wrong. Or, say, heard you got a good haul. What’s the going rate? No, no, not on that stuff- the good shit. Yeah, those numbers sound more like it, c'mon, who do you take him for? Some chump like Hall? (Always helped to throw their rivals under the bus in talks like this. Get ‘em fluffing their feathers and stir some discord all in one.) Or maybe, it took just the slightest bit of strong arming. Not too much - didn't wanna get anyone up in arms or suspicious, not now - but just enough. Just like a good game of poker, you had to know your opponent. Logan knew these schlumps pretty damn well.
Apparently, so did Bucky. Logan kept peripherals on him, but otherwise let him operate as he liked, and that worked like a charm. A lot of the old boys here were utterly and completely smitten - Logan could smell it on them. Hear the way their hearts picked up with the flash of a well-placed smile behind painted lips, or a toss of that thick, glossy crown of dark curls. Even the ones that weren’t tripping over themselves, they still wanted Buck’s attention. To spite Patch, as an ego boost, to make someone else jealous. All that. A simple smile, a quirk of painted lips, was all it took. The idiots sang like canaries. For once, Logan couldn't blame them. He finds himself staring a bit more than he should, especially as the night gets longer and longer. As the clock whittles away the party, Logan finds himself getting more and more fed up with his so-called compatriots. He gets tired of huffing the smell of other people's fear and blood and misery off of them. He gets sick of listening to them talk about people, innocent people, his people, like livestock - like animals. Hearing what they were being bought and sold for. How many are gonna end up in cages or on slabs. His teeth itch. His claws are fucking burning. Not literally, and it’s a good thing he’s wearing this suit - the glow of the metal beneath his skin would be hidden under the expensive cotton sleeves. He needs to take a breather if he’s going to keep this going. Maybe a smoke on the balcony, or… He catches a glimpse of shimmering silver out of the corner of his eye.
Or maybe something more distracting.
He behaves himself, making sure to wrap up the conversation he's having before he makes his way across the room. It had been more of the same. A reminder, then, to check scent trails when they were done. Find out if these similar deals were happening in equally similar places - but that was for later. As he slid over to Bucky, this was for now.
Five minutes, he’d said. Just long enough to make their departures seem separate and innocent. Just a coincidence. It's still a coincidence when they end up in the bathroom together. Just them. Nobody else. Logan locks the door to keep that true, keep it private - though if either of the two of them wanted to leave, that pretty oak would be matchsticks in seconds flat. It would keep the normal folks away at least. It was good enough.
“You look real nice tonight, Buck.” He says, bracing his hand on the counter and leaning in closer - leaving a few inches between them, testing the waters. That’s why there’s only a bit of weight to his palm when he reaches to run it down Bucky’s side, appreciating the way the fabric clings to his form. “Think this little number was worth every penny.”
