Chapter Text
It’s seven p.m. Friday, ninety-five degrees. Wade doesn’t – well, he doesn’t think he can sing the rest for ethical reasons. None of that matters, though. The point is that it’s a hot night, and the AC is out again. It’s sweltering in the apartment, even with the windows open. There are multiple fans on at full speed that are just whipping the hot air around. It’s really kind of miserable.
“Fuck. Again.”
Wade couldn’t give a damn if it’d win him the lottery.
It’s hot and stuffy, and apparently that gets Logan’s engine revving. One minute they’re lazing on the couch watching Love Island, the next he’s doing what he does when he wants attention and Wade’s not paying. He sighs, softly at first but in deepening progression the longer it takes before he notices and looks at him. Of course he plays detached, looking up and away like nothing is going on, and tilts his head back and to the side to bare his neck without a word. It always works.
Wade’s got the sudden urge to tear the central cooling system out of the whole building with his bare hands if it means he gets this all summer. They’ve got the apartment to themselves tonight, just them and the Are you still watching? staring them down. Logan growls, a sign that he’s taking too long. Like he asked he bites him again and leaves another set of fading teeth prints on his neck. He sucks over them until they’re gone, greedy for the taste of salt and skin and the punched out groans he earns with every nip.
“Again.”
“What’s the magic word, princess?”
“Harder.”
He moans into his neck and bites down until what remains of his rational mind says that’s enough, this is another person , and then harder until the tang of blood fills his mouth and he feels it well up and spill past his lips. Logan gasps, a little shock of an inhale and moans in a way he usually muffles with a groan. His blood is sharp, more metallic than normal blood. Probably the adamantium. Whatever it is Wade savors the taste, lapping at the wound until it closes and sucking what’s left from where it’s dripped down his chest. Then Logan is gripping his jaw and pulling his face up to his own. He just looks at him for a while, turning his head in his hands and examining the way Wade beams up at him, mouth smeared in blood. He doesn’t even try to hide the softness, the fondness in his eyes.
“Damn freak.”
And he kisses him like he’s waited his whole life to do it.
Wade shifts until he’s settled comfortably between his legs, fully prepared to spend his evening there. Logan bites his tongue and chuckles when he winces, and he’ll spend all night there, his back be damned. The kiss is getting messy and so is he. He’s just about to go in for a handful when the Kim Possible beep chirps from his phone, forgotten on the table. He turns to look on instinct, only to have his head forcibly turned back.
“Ignore it.”
He wants to say something smart because of course he does, but Logan’s kissing him again and he’d rather die than do anything that would make him stop. He gets his handful, and hips bucking up into it.
His phone goes off again.
He doesn’t turn this time but Logan growls a warning just the same. Whoever it is can wait. If it’s really important they know where to find him.
Logan’s hands are slipped into his shirt and roaming his back, nails raking delicious red welts in their wake. Then they’re headed south, dipping under the waistband of his sweats and gripping at his ass, hard and mean, definitely drawing blood. It makes his dick kick against his knee.
“Easy on the peach, sugarplum. You’ll squeeze the juice right outta me.”
Rather than scold him for running his mouth he nudges the sweats down his hips to bare his ass, draws back and lays a firm slap to a cheek dead center, soothing the sting away with another rough squeeze.
Maybe he cums just a little bit, maybe his eyes go cross for another, unrelated reason. Either way he doubles down and kisses harder if only to keep his mouth occupied and stop him from saying something stupid like marry me, or the circumstances that brought us together were odd but they’ve done god’s work or get me pregnant, please get me pregnant, fuck a litter into me right now.
And as worked up as he is, as they both are, he’s not in a hurry. As far as he cares they can kiss and grind on this ancient couch until the heat death, uninterrupted.
There’s a knock at the door.
Logan growls again, more irritated.
“Relax,” Wade mutters into the kiss. “They’ll go away.”
It seems to satisfy him. The tension melts out of him and he goes back pliant under him, rocking absentmindedly into his hand.
Whoever is at the door does not go away. They knock even harder, rattling the cheap door in the frame. It’s the last straw for Logan. He bolts up, knocking Wade off him and stomps thunder across the living room, nearly ripping the deadbolts off unlatching them. He barely has the door open a crack before he’s grunting fuck off to the body on the other side and trying to close it back. Something flies into the way and stops it from closing. A stick that looks very familiar.
“TVA. Open up.”
He does not.
“I was cleared to stay here. I’m not going back.”
And he’s angry, Wade knows he is. The hottest makeout sesh they’ve had all week just got interrupted, of course he is. But there’s something else there. A tremor, just a bit of unsteadiness. Easy to miss in the gravel of his voice. It’s panic. The TVA is at the door and his first worry is that they’re making him leave.
“That’s not what I’m here for. We have a job for you.”
“Not interested.”
That’s Wade’s cue to pipe up from the couch. His wallet’s always been the only thing that thought louder than his dick.
“Wait, wait. Hold on, now, peanut. Let’s hear what the nice bankroll has to say. How much?”
“You can’t put a price on the integrity of the multiverse.”
“Wrong answer. Make sure you put both deadbolts back on.”
Logan flicks his claws out, and he knows from experience he intends to get that door closed, no matter what he has to separate from the person holding it open.
“Fine! I’ve been authorized to…negotiate compensation.”
“Of course you have. Nobody sends messengers with empty pockets and expects ‘em back alive. Give me a number or quit cockblocking.”
“Twenty-five grand.”
“Each?”
“Total.”
“Get that fucker out of here!”
Now, Logan likes to consider himself the rational one, for whatever it’s worth. But he’s more than happy to feed into Wade’s nonsense if it means gutting the bastard that wouldn’t fuck off long enough for him to get his rocks off.
He yanks the door open, fully prepared to kill him.
“No, no, wait!”
He hesitates.
“Twenty! Twenty each and I’ll pull some strings.”
“What kind of strings?”
The agent fumbles around in his pocket and pulls out the little device they use to travel.
“One of these. I can get you one.”
“What’s the job?”
Wade’s a little surprised to hear it come from Logan, and so quickly no less. Sure it was fun running around in the multiverse flux back when he was scouting Logans but he can’t imagine a real practical use for one. Logan must be able to.
“We need you to catch a Deadpool.”
Logan turns to him with a look in his eye. It’s hot as hell in the apartment but suddenly he feels so cold.
“A wild Deadpool. I’m domesticated.”
“Why us? You all can’t handle one Deadpool?”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“The situation is…complex. The two of you possess qualities that make you better suited for the job than TVA personnel.”
“Our winning personalities?”
“We can’t die, moron. It’s a suicide mission. For anyone else, anyway.”
Logan looks the agent up and down, and then back at Wade. He doesn’t say anything, but he asks. Because they’re a team. Partners. And if Logan wants one of those glorified PDAs then Wade’s gonna get him one, even if it means beating his own ass.
“We’re in.”
The TVA headquarters are just as dingy and outdated as Wade remembers them being. Logan doesn’t remember them all that well. After all, the few minutes he spent here he was blacked out drunk. The color of the wallpaper makes him wish that was the case now.
“When we rounded up all the escaped variants from the void we missed one. A Deadpool.”
The agent pulls up a screen full of stats about the variant they’re going after. Wade sighs and sinks down in his chair. He wasn’t shit in school, especially during presentations. But, Logan’s paying attention, so he gives it an honest effort. There’s all kinds of data. Physical attributes, what timeline he’s from, biometric data. Truthfully he doesn’t seem all that different from, well, him. They have the same height and build, same eye color, same blood type. The major differences are the timeline he’s from, and a handful of strange symbols on his biometric chart that neither Wade nor Logan has ever seen before.
“We missed him because he was holed up in the wreckage from the timeripper explosion. Out of every team we’ve sent to recover him, none have come back unharmed.”
“He’s that dangerous?”
“Not him. There’s a kind of radiation leaking from the ruptured matter and antimatter feeds that’s too harmful to be around for any long period of time. They could wear radiation suits, but they inhibit mobility and by the time they get to him, well…”
He starts a clip of what they realize is bodycam footage. The wearer trudges through the shrapnel, clearly moving slowly. There’s a flurry of red and black and the camera falls, and the owner’s legs come into frame beside their torso. Interestingly enough, the Deadpool also comes into frame. He’s limping and holding his stomach like he’s hurt. The camera cuts not long after, but he can just barely be seen crawling behind a warped metal casing. Hiding.
“That’s why we called you two. Obviously we need to get the radiation contained before it becomes a problem, but we can’t until he’s dealt with.”
“So we go in, and what? Not like we can kill him. Much as I’d like to.”
“If you can tranq him, we can drop him back off safe and sound.”
Logan’s about to say something clever, along the lines of how there’s no such thing as a sound Deadpool.
“Can’t the guy just go home?”
Clever, but he’s learning it’s far from true.
“There’s no home left for him. His timeline was ripped not long after he was sent to the void.”
“He can’t just crash here?”
“Not as long as you’re alive. There are a myriad of risks associated with a variant occupying the same timeline as their prime being for extended periods of time.”
“Like?”
“Well, absorption, for one. Under specific conditions he could just merge right into you. It doesn’t even require direct contact. And you’d be altered. You’d take on the qualities that made him a variant. All in all it’s just too dangerous.”
“More dangerous than sending him off to get eaten by Alioth?”
“Since Cassandra Nova was eliminated Alioth has become far less active. His odds of survival are nearly the same as if he were out of the void.”
Wade doesn’t say anything for a long time.
“We’ll get him. Just-” he pauses, like he’s trying to find the words. “Drop him where he needs to be. Make sure he finds the rest of us.”
And it takes a little while for Logan to understand what he means. The other Deadpools. He wants to make sure he’s not alone.
“Will do. I’ll be back with the sedative.”
The agent leaves, and the quiet he leaves behind is stifling. Logan wants to make a joke – he finds the urge more common the longer he spends with Wade – but it doesn’t seem right. Even when he’s not speaking, Wade’s saying something, he’s learned that much. The sag of his shoulders, his head cast down. Logan knows this. Though it reads like it, it’s not sadness. Even sad he’s animated. Right now he sits beside him motionless, like he doesn’t have the will to move. Wade is hurt.
“He’ll find ‘em,” Logan offers. “They’ll have a hell of a time bein’ idiots together. He’ll be right at home.”
Wade nods, a small little thing.
“You know, I thought it was pretty cool that I had so many variants. I’m a head on a propeller in one timeline for fuck’s sake. That’s hilarious.”
He speaks quietly and with no emotion, in his rare, real voice.
“But then I started to wonder why there were so many. Not in general. In the void. Cassandra said it herself, I’m a dime a dozen there. But why? I mean, I can’t imagine I’d play well with the multiverse in any version, that’s fair. But I’d never even know about the multiverse unless someone told me. All of me.”
For the first time it begins to click for Logan.
“You weren’t the first.”
Wade shakes his head, just once, slow.
“Maybe he needed a Deadpool for something, I don’t know what. So I guess he just… went down the line until he found one who was willing to sell out their world.” He huffs a laugh, humorless and flat. “He never found one. And when they wouldn’t bite he sent them to the void and-”
It’s like he can’t even say it. He won’t.
“For this time, this one time it worked there’s all those others where it didn’t. We try to do the right thing for once, not turn our backs on the only people who ever gave a damn about us and it still amounts to jack shit.”
And Logan’s not a goddamned life coach, he doesn’t have a cache of inspirational shit tucked away. He just takes a page from Wade and says the first thing that comes to mind.
“There’s no way you saved the world, the whole fuckin’ timeline , and you’re still finding a way to blame yourself for something. So those other Deadpools weren’t able to save their people. Do you think they sat on their asses and let it happen? Did you? Maybe there was a little luck involved, with you findin’ me and Cassandra letting us out but the rest was all you, bub. And I know if the cards fell right for the others they would have done the same thing. You only get to blame yourself for shit you didn’t try to stop. Believe me, I know.”
Wade looks away, like he’s trying to decide between listening to him and continuing to shame himself.
“It just…I hate that I took everyone down with me. Every Al, and Peter and Dopinder and everybody. Over and over. They never asked for any of this, to get dragged into my shit in every timeline. Even when I save them, I can’t.”
“You think we’re stupid?”
“What?”
“Althea, and Peter, the goth kid and her Skittles girlfriend. Me. All the people who give that damn about you. You think we’re stupid? On your best day you’re a hazard, Wade. I’ve seen you set the freezer on fire for fuck’s sake. We know that. If the vague threat of whatever the fuck was too much for any of us, you don’t think we know how to kick rocks? But we don’t. Clearly none of us ever do. Because we, all of us, think you, every one of you is worth it. So get outta your head about shit you can’t change and give yourself some credit for what you did change. Not because they needed it.”
“Because I needed it,” he echoes softly.
The door slides open and the agent returns with the biggest syringe either of them have ever seen, full of a liquid that’s a positively radioactive shade of green.
“Ready?”
“Alright, alright. Just warm your hands first.”
And Logan’s never been happier to cringe.
_____________________
“The formula is extremely concentrated to act as long as possible before he’s able to metabolize it. Still, try to get him with as much of it as you can. And, uh, try not to get any of it on your skin. It’s somewhat…corrosive.”
“It’s gonna hurt him?”
“No, no. He’ll be unconscious long before he can feel any pain.”
Even this long after the explosion the wreckage is still smoking and sparking in places. Where they’re going is the worst of all: the chamber just on the other side of where they stood and completed the circuit between the matter and antimatter feeds. Wade’s no engineer but there’s at least three different meters screaming to high heaven, and he doesn’t think that’s a good thing. He keeps waiting for someone to come out with a couple of the radiation suits they kept talking about but nobody ever does.
“You may feel some discomfort from the radiation but your bodies should repair any damage before it gets too bad.”
“Are we gonna double mutate?”
“Not that kind of radiation.”
“Damn. I was hoping for some gills. Maybe a tail, spice things up. What about you, peanut? How would you wanna freakify?”
“Horns,” he answers honestly, before he can remember to pretend to be annoyed.
“Excellent choice.”
The agent clears his throat, holding out the giant syringe.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Logan lets Wade take it. The way he sees it, it’s only fair that he gets to knock himself out. Now if Logan happens to save a little of the sedative for later, that’s another story.
They start down the burnt out hall into the wreckage. The pitch dark, ominously creaking, burnt and destroyed wreckage. An odd feeling is settling into the pit of Wade’s stomach. At first he tries to chalk it up to being jittery from earlier in the night but it’s a lie he isn’t able to keep up for long. Every burst of sparks, every shift of crumpled metal has him glancing over his shoulder. If he could get his head together the phrase impending doom would ring a bell. Logan bumps into his arm and he nearly drops the syringe with how he tries to jump out of his skin.
“You alright, bub?”
“Hm? Yeah, yeah. You ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”
“Every time it’s my turn to shower.”
Something creaks behind them and his heart’s trying to climb out of his ear.
“I mean it, Lo. This place gives me the bald-man-behind-a-tree-at-the-playground creeps.”
“Look, if this is weirding you out that much just go back. I can get him myself. If he’s anything like you I know-”
“No, no, no. I’m not leaving you alone with another Deadpool. We’re all whores, every last one of us.”
There’s something Logan wants to say. It wasn’t long ago that he would never go there, but now he finds he wants to.
“Jealous?”
“Incredibly. I’d have to take his hands. He couldn’t keep anything that touched you, I don’t give a damn if it didn’t grow back.”
“You think he’s like the one you murdered?”
Wade lets that one slide.
“I dunno, but something’s definitely wrong with him. If that were me I’d have skipped town so fast the dust wouldn’t settle for a week. There’s no way I’d stay holed up down here.”
The walkway ends in a T split, going left and right down equally dark and destroyed halls.
“Wade.”
“No.”
“Wade, listen.”
“We’re not splitting up in this hellhole.”
“Do you wanna spend all night down here? It’ll take twice as long if we don’t.”
“Fuck. You. ”
Logan sighs. He’s not a fan of playing all his cards but he’s willing to.
“The sooner we get out of here the sooner we get back. Air’s still out. Gotta be at least 80 in there.”
Wade’s tantrum pauses.
“We close all the windows. Get back on the couch. And fog ‘em up.”
“Love is Blind?” he asks, on the fence. And as pent up as he is from earlier it’s not a hard choice.
“How it’s Made.”
Wade groans deep and kicks a loose scrap of debris.
“And that’s why I’m not leaving you alone with him. God, I bet you could seduce any Wilson.”
“One’s enough. If you find him-”
“Oh, you’ll know if I find him,” he grumbles and starts down the left hall. “Anybody got a red herb? Or some green ones, preferably.”
Logan knows when he picks up the trail. He smells just like his Wade, but with an undercurrent of something else. Something sharp and sickly. Something really is wrong with him. Maybe his regeneration is failing and he’s… He’d rather not. Wade’s told him. He’s fine stabbing him, breaking his bones, but only because Wade’s fine with it. It’s a display of affection. He doesn’t like to think of him sick and hurt. He doesn’t want to see it, even if it’s not his Wade. His Wade. This is hardly the place to get sentimental, but he finds it striking like lightning these days. Never the same place twice.
The scent jumps from wall to wall nearly, pooling under bits of metal where he likely hid before moving on to somewhere else. Why didn’t he just stay put? It’s strongest under a domed piece, what he realizes is the same one he hid under in the footage. He’s not there now. In the dark it’s hard to tell, but he can make out some scraps of what looks like insulation, and other bits and pieces of other debris. And that smell-
Down the opposite hall behind him metal screeches. Then Wade screeches.
“I found hi-”
And he’s stabbed him in the throat enough times to know what it sounds like.
As he’s running up he hears the fight clearer and clearer, and if he didn’t think something was wrong with the other Deadpool before he does now. There’s hissing and snarling, noises he’s never even fucked out of Wade. There’s a gurgling he recognizes as a larynx reforming. The scuffle of spandex on spandex and glass tinkling across concrete. Not a good thing to hear. By the time he makes it there he’s got a good idea of what to expect from what he’s heard, but it still doesn’t prepare him.
One Deadpool has the other pinned. They’re grappling at each other, but matched in strength neither of them makes any headway. He can’t tell them apart.
“Wade?”
Logan takes a step forward and his foot connects with the syringe, thankfully not broken but still mostly full. It looks like he was only able to get a little into him before he knocked it away.
“Stick him!” one of them chokes.
“How do I know it’s you?”
“Do you need to see the Pickle Rick butt plug or will you trust me? Get the son of a bitch off me!”
That’s him, alright. Logan hates that goddamn plug.
He takes the syringe and jams it down between the shoulderblades of the Deadpool pinning his. He screams the whole time he presses the plunger, a terrible sound he doesn’t think he’ll ever get out of his head. The sedative starts to seep out, excess running down his back and sides. Then he slumps over, out.
Underneath him Wade heaves, and pushes his body off and onto the floor.
“Am I that heavy?”
“Probably heavier.”
“Ugh. Sorry for all the times I passed out on you.”
“Nah.” He doesn’t mind. In fact, he’s looking forward to it happening later.
Logan reaches out to give him a hand up. He pulls him to his feet, up and up until he’s going off-kilter and realizes nearly too late that Wade’s not stopping. Straight up and over until Logan has to catch him and hold him upright.
“I… I don’t feel so good, peanut.”
Holding him close the tears in his suit are visible, along with the neon green seeping into his healing wounds. Of course.
“You’re gonna take a little nap,” he reassures him with gentle pats on the back. That’s what he thinks is happening when Wade melts and drops his head into his shoulder.
But then he starts to shake. Convulsing. Seizing. It’s violent and terrifying for the whole four seconds it happens. Then it’s over, and Wade is boneless, gone dead weight in his arms.
“Wade? Wade!”
Silence.
Silence the whole time he scoops the other Deadpool onto his left shoulder and his onto the right. All those days he wished for Wade to be silent and now he’d give anything to make it stop. He doesn’t know what’s happening or why. The other Deadpool didn’t do anything like this. Why is he still out? He didn’t get anywhere near the dose the other did. It shouldn't be like this. He can feel his chest rise and fall against his back, too hard, too fast. It shouldn’t be like this. Fear writhes in his chest, makes his ribs feel too tight in his own body.
The agents are waiting outside, ready to congratulate them on a job well done. They hesitate when they see him carrying two Deadpools. The other he drops to the floor with a dull thud for them to collect. His Deadpool, his Wade he slips from his shoulder and onto a melted down console. Even through his suit his body is boiling hot. Hot enough that the absence of him on his shoulder feels cool.
“What the hell is happening to him?”
“Did you inject him by mistake?”
“No, some of it got on him. You said it wouldn’t hurt him!”
“It shouldn’t! Did he have any skin contact with the variant?”
“Maybe? They were fighting before I got him with the needle.”
Wade’s full body twitching, almost jolting off the console.
“Do something!”
The agent’s tapping away at the device, and an orange doorway opens behind him.
People in beige lab coats are coming out but Logan’s not paying attention to them. He’s doing what he can to keep Wade from bashing his head into anything around him. Even though he knows it won’t really hurt him. He just doesn’t want him to.
He’s murmuring comforting things, you’re gonna be fine, just hang in there. I’ve got you.
They could be lies. He has no idea what’s happening to him. But he doesn’t regret a word of it, especially when he reaches for Wade’s hand he grabs back and squeezes. Not a muscle spasm. On purpose. Whatever is happening, he’s in there.
In a whirlwind the lab coats are lifting him up and carrying him away until Logan is forced to let go of his hand. The doorway closes, and the agent’s saying something to him. He can’t really hear him.
Logan is alone.
What a terrible way to find out he’d forgotten what it felt like.