Chapter Text
One moment, Logan was demanding another drink from the annoyed barkeep, the next— he was being accosted by a spandex-clad lunatic.
He had planned on getting shit-faced, and stumbling home to sleep it off, just to do it all again the next day— But now some red fucker was in here talking shit about "needing him".
The bastard even pulled a gun on him! Did he even know who he was messing with? You can't shoot the Wolverine, god knows he's already fuckin tried.
Logan grabbed the whiskey bottle off of the counter and chugged it before passing out.
When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the scent of the room. It was wrong. He could smell people, but he couldn't tell if they were alphas— maybe they were betas? But even betas have a scent to them— it was disorienting, and he felt on edge.
The second thing he noticed, was the conversation going on behind him. "worst wolverine". the worst wolverine. yeah, that checks out. But when that red guy got zapped away, Logan jumped up—
Noticing that he wasn't wearing his regular clothes. Just the suit. Just the suit he wears under them. He shook the implication of that away, it's not like that creep had undressed him.
"Where the fuck did he go?!" Logan growled.
The cocky guy in the suit said something about a trash shute, and as Logan went to attack, he was suddenly barreling down into some shitty desert.
He was mad. Who did this prick think he was?! Kidnapping him, bringing him here—
"WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE?" Logan yelled, lifting the guy up with his claws
"I DON'T KNOW?!" The guy answered
They fought, tearing eachother up until some guy in robes showed up, and a caravan surrounded them. Logan was just about done with all this shit. He could smell all these people, but only a handful of their scents revealed what their secondary sex was, it was maddening— he'd assumed that the red-fucker just had scent blockers in his suit, but then all those people in that office— all these people—
Then there was Sabretooth. Logan adopted a fighting stance, and unsheathed his claws.
That annoying fucker jumped up and pulled all of the swords out of his torso, a welcomed act, but he could do without the constant yapping.
Eventually he found himself tied face-to-face with the red guy. He seemed to be asleep. Sort of. Logan groaned in discomfort as he realized that the man in front of him was erect. Great. The dude must've gotten a rip in his mask or something— had to be smelling Logan's own pheromones. Now on top of everything, the bastard knew Logan- The Wolverine- was an omega. But Logan still couldn't smell this guy's scent. It worried him.
"hhh- how long was i asleep?" The guy asked,
"Not all of you was asleep." Logan growled
The flame guy told them all about the void, and such, things they should probably know, but Logan was a little too pre-occupied with getting away from this scentless moron. He did his best to lean away from him, as much as the ropes would allow.
Their destination was even more disorienting for Logan's nose. He could smell a mix of Alphas, betas, omegas— and more people who just didn't have a scent. He wanted nothing but to be passed out drunk in his appartment, away from all this bullshit.
Away from being thrown around by Cassandra too. The bitch.
After escaping Cassandra and the storm cloud of eternal hunger, the two argued again. Deadpool- Logan had learned from Cassandra saying his name- promised that the TVA could fix Logan's timeline. It was a weak promise in Logan's head, but he clung to it.
Then he smelled something in the distance. A welcome smell compared to the scentless-scent of the mercenary beside him. Food. He smelled food.
They found Spam cans, and as Logan tore up the kitchen, Deadpool asked him some more annoying questions.
"So what made you finally wear an honest to god costume?" He asked, "Mine's red so they can't see me bleed, but I could see how yellow would be useful too—"
"Have you been checked for ADHD?" Logan shot back,
"uh-uh, but I've had several STD's, which were probably caused by ADHD." Deadpool replied
Disgusting. Logan thought, continuing his search for booze. The sooner he could lose himself to some sort of alcohol, the better things would be. And maybe he could shirk the uncomfortable feeling Deadpool's scent gave him.