#Victor pancake making brother creed

[maybe-im-dark]

Pancakes

(After an idea of @mrcorkus)

The fluorescent light in the base of Team X hummed softly, a cold and sterile background to the low growl of Victor’s snore. Logan sat on the edge of the bed opposite of his brother’s in the room they begrudgingly shared, tugging at his boots with deliberate focus. It wasn’t like he hated sharing the space—hell, Victor’s presence and his snoring was familiar, like the rumble of distant thunder. But things weren’t the same anymore, not since they’d joined Team X. Victor had become more brutal, all the more eager to kill, not caring if it were innocents. 

Victor, sprawled out like a lion basking in the sun, cracked an eye open. “You gonna keep brooding there, Jimmy, or actually say what’s eating at ya?”

“Nothing’s eating at me,” Logan muttered, his voice gruff. But his posture betrayed him—shoulders tense, head hung low like a pup caught chewing on a shoe.

Victor yawned, stretching like a lazy predator before sitting up. “You think I don’t see it? You’ve been like this since the mission briefing. What is it, huh? Too much noise in the world, or are you just missing the quiet?”

Logan didn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on the faded military tent canvas stuffed in the corner of the room. Memories from years ago floated to the surface—nights when they’d shared a bed not out of necessity but out of Logan’s fear of being alone.

Back then, Logan was just a kid—a scared, wide-eyed boy clutching Victor’s arm like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. They’d run from their home, leaving behind blood and a shattered sense of innocence. Logan, barely twelve, cried himself to sleep most nights.

Victor had tried ignoring it at first. He wasn’t good with feelings, and the sound of Logan’s muffled sobs grated on his nerves. But eventually, something inside him gave way. One night, he’d climbed into Logan’s bed without a word, pulling the boy close.

Logan had blinked up at him, his face streaked with tears. “What’re you doin’?”

Victor’s voice was low, almost embarrassed. “Shut up, Jimmy. You’ll sleep better if you’re not shakin’ like a leaf.”

He didn’t expect what happened next. Logan curled into him, like a small animal seeking warmth. Victor had sighed, awkwardly draping an arm over him. And when Logan’s trembling didn’t stop, he did something he hadn’t done before—he purred.

It wasn’t intentional, just an instinct he hadn’t tapped into since he always had to hide his mutation from his father. But it worked. Logan’s breathing evened out, and he fell asleep with his face buried in Victor’s chest.

From then on, it became a silent ritual. When Logan woke from nightmares, Victor would grumble but let him crawl into his bed. Sometimes he’d purr; other times, he’d just stay still and let Logan cling to him. And in the mornings, Victor would scrounge up whatever food they had and make pancakes. They weren’t fancy—just batter fried in whatever pan they could find—but Logan ate them like they were a feast.

---

“Jimmy.” Victor’s voice brought Logan back to the present. “You’re thinkin’ too loud.”

Logan snorted, shaking his head. “Just...remembering.”

Victor tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “The old days, huh?”

“Yeah.” Logan ran a hand through his hair. “You used to make pancakes.”

Victor barked a laugh. “I made somethin’ that looked like pancakes. You’re the one who thought they were edible.”

Logan allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. “They were good enough.”

Victor leaned back, crossing his arms. “You were such a little runt back then. Always sneakin’ into my bed, scared of the dark.”

Logan bristled. “I wasn’t scared.”

Victor grinned, showing his sharp teeth. “Sure you weren’t. And I didn’t purr like a goddamn housecat to get you to shut up.”

Logan shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “Why’d you do it, anyway?”

Victor shrugged, his expression softening. “You are my little brother. What else was I gonna do? Let you cry yourself sick?”

The room fell into a comfortable silence. Logan shifted, finally lying back on the bed. Victor glanced over at him, his grin fading into something quieter, more thoughtful.

“You ever need somethin’, Jimmy,” Victor said after a while, his voice unusually gentle, “you just gotta ask. Even if it’s pancakes.”

Logan huffed a laugh, closing his eyes. “Thanks, Vic.”

Victor leaned back against the wall, his gaze lingering on his brother. Things had changed between them over the years, but some things—like the bond forged in those early days—never would.

As Logan’s breathing evened out, Victor allowed himself to relax. The hum of the fluorescent light faded into the background, and for a moment, it felt like they were back in that small, ramshackle cabin, pancakes sizzling on the stove and the world outside kept at bay.