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He should have let Wade come with him when he had bitched and moaned about it all morning, Logan thought fuzzily, as glass closed over his head. The issue was that every job was supposedly easy. No problem for someone with a healing factor. The X-men were better about realistic estimates, but Logan was mostly working through Wade’s connections, for now. It was money with no strings attached, and that was the way he liked it.
So this job was supposed to be a quick one. Down in Pennsylvania, so he was planning to be gone for a few days. One day for recon, one day for killing a bunch of assholes, another day for cleanup if he needed it. And the recon went fine. Nothing he didn’t expect, just a regular patrol schedule around their main warehouse. The next day he suited up and slipped into the warehouse in a break in the patrol, ready to slice through a fuckton of bad guys with guns.
He’d been told to expect arms smuggling, but the inside of the warehouse was dark and empty. He snapped his claws out, violent, stomach twisting with foreboding. He wasn’t quick enough; four mutants appeared out of nowhere and jumped him, injecting what must have been veterinary levels of tranquilizers. If it wasn’t for the knowledge that something had gone horribly wrong, Logan might have even enjoyed it. He’d never been able to get this high.
He lashed out with his claws and managed to get two of them off him, bleeding profusely, but the tranquilizers kicked in fast, and he was out cold.
Logan was in and out for the drive, cuffed in the back of a van. He tried to count turns but gave up once it was clear he was losing time. They’d put an IV in and kept the drugs coming, as far as he could tell. The cuffs didn’t seem to be adamantium, so if he focused he could probably rip them apart with brute force, but he could barely lift his hand and he kept forgetting what he was doing. And then they were there, wherever there was, and they were strapping him to a table and closing him into a glass chamber.
Nothing they did after that was original. It seemed like they were testing his healing factor, because whatever they were pumping into him slowed it down. They cut out different sized chunks of him and timed how long they took to heal, then adjusted the meds and did it again. It hurt, but Logan was used to pain and he was high enough that it couldn’t quite touch him. Sometimes he startled, realizing where he was. Seeing the giant wounds on his torso, seeing the restraints on his arms and legs. He’d start to panic before the drugs brought him back under. In the few moments he was able to focus, he tried to plan. If he could get his claws out and angle them just right, cut through a wrist cuff, then maybe he could bend it the rest of the way open. Then he’d have more leverage to get his other limbs free, and he could rip out the IV. That was as far as he ever got before his mind went floaty.
He had no idea how long this went on. The warehouse lights above him were always on, and they never fed him. It was just slicing, and slicing, and more slicing, different slicing, seeing how he would heal. They were starting in on blunt force trauma every so often, bored of their scalpels. But one day it stopped. There was a loud noise like a gunshot and all the people went away at once.
Logan was having trouble focusing, but he caught on that something unexpected was happening after the second gunshot. There were drugs being pumped into him, and he was cuffed down in this fucking tube, but if he got free, and there was enough of a distraction, he could probably punch through the glass. And then…he could drag himself out of here. Maybe. Or kill anybody who came close.
There were more gunshots, and screaming, distorted by the glass. And a low, furious voice that he could barely make out. Logan waited, listening. The gunshots came in groups, sometimes in huge batches. If he timed it right, maybe he could disguise the sound of the glass breaking. He pulled the cannula out of his arm, wincing. It wasn’t healing, but it would clot soon. Worse would be letting his claws out. He took a deep breath and released them, gritting his teeth against the sting. It hurt, and it kept hurting, which he wasn’t used to, but the pain helped him hang onto the edges of his thoughts. He bent his hand at an odd angle and scraped at the metal cuff on his other wrist with his claws. He made it halfway through before he didn’t have enough leverage to go any further. Then, panting, sweating, he levered his arm up until the scored metal snapped open. He collapsed back to the bed for a moment, then gritted his teeth and used his freed hand to slice through the other cuffs. He raked his claws lightly down his thigh, trying to keep himself grounded. Now he just had to wait for a big enough noise to burst out of this chamber.
There—a gunshot—he thrust upwards with the most force he could muster and the glass shattered. There was another gunshot and then a conspicuous silence.
“Peanut?” someone called. “Logan?”
Logan’s throat was so dry. He coughed, cleared his throat. No one else called him peanut. “Wade?”
“Logan,” Wade said. Logan blinked, and suddenly he was there standing over him, in his full suit. He blinked again. He was so close to getting himself out. He hadn’t thought—
“Close your eyes,” Wade said, and then brushed glass off of Logan’s face and put a hand to his cheek. “Hey, sweetheart. Can you put your claws away for me?”
Logan felt dizzy, all his energy used up. He’d gotten his claws out for a reason, but he couldn’t remember what it was now. And Wade was asking. He pulled his claws back in and winced.
“Good,” Wade said, a little absently, picking up one of Logan’s hands and looking at the bleeding wounds. He cocked his head, spun on his heel, and shot someone that Logan couldn’t see. Then he took Logan’s hand again, gently. “I have a little more work to do. Can you stay here for me, pookie?” Logan looked at him, eyes having trouble focusing. “I’m coming back, Logan. Can you say it for me?”
“You’re comin’ back,” he slurred.
“Good,” Wade muttered, put Logan’s hand down, and turned on his heel, calling something out in a bright, dangerous voice.
Logan floated there. Once or twice he noticed his hands were still bleeding and jumped before drifting off again. He squirmed once and regretted it, glass shards stabbing him in the back.
“Logan.”
Logan blinked his eyes open and flinched when he saw Colossus standing over him.
“Ready to go?”
Logan huffed a laugh. “Yeah.” Colossus lifted him into the air easily, barely jostling his wounds. Logan was too tired to protest the bridal carry. “Wade?”
“Deadpool is finishing up some cleanup,” Colossus said, obviously displeased.
“Great,” Logan said. Now that there were people here to help him, it was harder and harder to hang on to consciousness. “Tell ‘im I’m fine. He doesn’t need to go apeshit.”
“I think it is too late for that,” Colossus said, delicately. Logan laughed again and finally let himself pass out.
“So they rewrote the book again, and this time they took Someone Else’s Story and gave it to Florence, who really didn’t need any more songs, but whatever—”
Logan woke up slowly, the familiar cadence of Wade’s inane babble in his ears. He wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t smell Althea, or the dog, or the mildew in the shower Wade kept swearing he was going to scrub out of the grout. Someone was holding his hand.
“And in the newest version they gave the Arbiter a bunch of stupid pop culture jokes, which, you might think it’s hypocritical of me to say they’re stupid, but mine are funny, so they’re allowed.”
Logan opened his eyes to a hospital room. He tuned out the voice and Wade’s smell and the hand in his and ripped the IVs out of his arm. The machines started beeping.
“Oh, hey, honey badger, pretty sure you shouldn’t do—”
Logan leapt to his feet with a snarl and moved into the corner, by a window. Defensible, and he could jump out if he needed. His pulse was pounding, white noise in his ears and vision blurring. There was someone in the room with him, and he crouched, preparing to release his claws.
“Oh, fuck,” he heard, and then he was pinned to the wall, the stranger pressed up against him and his fists forced together.
“Logan,” he said, cursed again, twisted so Logan’s face was smashed into his neck, and kneed him in the stomach. “Get a big old whiff, peanut, it’s Wade! It’s Wade.”
Logan gasped in and smelled him, the sickly-sweet cancer scent that had somehow become comforting. He staggered, and Wade caught him, stumbling back a step.
“Wade?”
“Yeah, pookie, you finally with me?” Wade stepped back, keeping his hands on Logan’s wrists. “No claws, okay?”
Logan couldn’t quite stop panting. He whined, low in his throat.
Something changed on Wade’s face. “You’re safe. I’ve got an absolute arsenal strapped to me under this hoodie and I’ll turn anyone who you don’t like the look of into a fine red mist. Okay?”
Logan nodded, jerkily, and Wade released him. He smelled that it wasn’t just Wade who had been in the room.
“Laura was here?”
“For hours,” Wade said. “We just bullied her into getting some sleep.”
“Not you?” His stomach squirmed at the thought of being alone.
Wade grinned. “I can’t get permanent brain damage. Or. Any more?”
The machines were wailing behind him and it was not helping his head. He collapsed into a chair, hand over his face.
Wade crouched in front of his chair. “We’re at the mansion,” he said, soft. “Sorry. Your healing factor got fucked and you weren’t doing so hot. So, no claws. It won’t heal up right now.”
Logan remembered some of it, then, the days he spent thinking that no one would come for him, the pain, and he twitched.
“You’re good now,” Wade murmured, hand on his knee. “You’re good. You wanna get back in the bed for me? I have probably 45 more minutes on Chess and then we can roll right into Funny Girl.”
“Absolutely fucking not,” Logan said, even though his head was pounding.
“Great!” Wade said, and tugged him to his feet, gently.
“Don’t wanna,” Logan said, listing forward.
“I know, big guy, but it’s this or faceplanting into the floor.” Wade slung Logan’s arm around his shoulders and maneuvered him back onto the bed. “No ripping out the IVs next time, okay? You’re gonna give Hank an aneurysm.”
“Pretty sure you’ll do that first,” Logan said, and passed out.
When Logan woke up next he was tucked under their embarrassing Little Mermaid comforter from home and his IVs were back in. It was stupidly reassuring, having something that smelled like them there. Like their home. He could hear people chatting quietly in Spanish, and their voices resolved into Laura and Wade’s. He came awake easier this time, twitching and jerking his eyes open, but not so disoriented. This time Laura was holding his hand.
As soon as she noticed he was awake, she held it with a death grip.
“Don’t you dare rip out your IVs this time, old man.”
Logan groaned. “Don’t like hospitals.”
“Don’t worry,” Wade chirped. “You’ve been really subtle about it, I don’t think Hank can even tell.”
Laura snorted. “How are you feeling?”
Logan cataloged his body, wiggled his toes. “Better. Achy, I guess.” Wade and Laura both looked unconvinced, which was probably fair, as “achy” meant more like, “hit by a bus.” But it was close enough. “What’d they do to me?”
Laura stood up abruptly and started pacing. Wade glanced at her and leaned forward in his chair.
“Oh, you know,” he said, light. “When they heard there was a new Wolverine running around they wanted to see if they could take your healing factor and bottle it up. So, seems like a lot of turning it on and off, doing some torture in between. The usual.”
“They didn’t get you or Laura?”
Wade’s face softened. “No, you absolute lunatic, we’re both fine, as evidenced by the fact we’re not the ones in the bed.” Wade leaned in, dropping his voice low, as if Laura couldn’t hear him from halfway across the manor. “No one told Laura until after it was over, to keep her safe, and based on some impromptu interviews I did with the lovely staff there they don’t seem to know she’s alive.” He shrugged. “And I don’t think people are really interested in the whole Deadpool package.”
“Good,” Logan said, relaxing. “Fuck. Good.”
“I’m an adult,” Laura snapped.
“Yes, and when we have to go to the Lab Who Wants To Experiment On Deadpools you get veto power on me coming,” Wade said, with the tone of someone who’s been arguing about this on and off for hours.
Laura looked to Logan, who shrugged. “Gotta agree with him here. Sorry.”
She rolled her eyes and collapsed into a chair. “He’s leaving out that he went in alone, half an hour ahead of the rest of the team.”
“I don’t remember that part,” Wade said. “And hypothetically, if it happened, it was fine and I killed like twenty people like a fucking badass.”
Laura threw her hands up. Logan sighed. “Bub—”
“Worst case, they would’ve stuck me in a tube right next to you, with the Iron Giant on the way. And Laura would’ve gotten to say I told you so. So really, still a win.”
“Wade—”
“Look,” Wade said, voice tight. “We can argue about this all you want, but I wasn’t fucking leaving you there another second. Okay?”
“I agree with that,” Laura said. “Just should’ve taken me with you.”
“Fucking fine,” Wade said. “If you don’t snitch next time.”
“Deal,” Laura said.
“Next time?” Logan started, and when he just got blank stares, he sighed. “Don’t fucking encourage each other.”
“Whump’s a popular genre, peanut. It’s just good practice to be prepared.” Wade tilted his head. “Maybe this is hurt/comfort? Hope so.”
Laura looked at Logan, who just shook his head.
“‘M going back to sleep,” Logan said, suddenly overcome by another wave of drowsiness. “You can leave, Laura, go get some more sleep.”
“What, and I can’t?” Wade sniped.
“You don’t have anything better to do,” Logan said, and Laura smirked at Wade, who started gasping and clutching pearls he wasn’t wearing. Logan smiled. He closed his eyes.
“Wait, fuck, Hank wanted to talk to you when you were awake next—”
“Later,” Logan slurred, and fell asleep.
When he woke up next, Wade was still there in one of the chairs next to the bed, absolutely passed out.
Logan took a moment to look at him. He looked fine, not covered in blood or growing any limbs back that Logan could see. Someone must have convinced him to take a shower. He was wearing—on second glance, that was Logan’s hoodie, what the fuck, and Logan could indeed see that Wade had weapons under it. He was slumped down in the chair at an angle that would almost certainly make his back ache if Logan let him sleep, but he didn’t think Wade had slept for 36 hours. So he let him be.
He didn’t have his phone, and there was no call button for Hank. He didn’t really want to see him anyway, and besides, that would wake up Wade. So Logan laid back down and rested, listening to Wade snoring.
He dozed like that for maybe an hour before Hank came to check on him. Wade startled awake.
“Logan,” Hank said. “How are you feeling?” Seeing Hank was…Logan couldn’t name it. Easier than he’d thought, because it almost felt like the old universe was a bad dream, seeing him here. But he smelled a touch different. Leaned slightly to the other side when he stood still.
“Treacherous,” Wade grumbled. “Didn’t wake me up.” He glanced at Logan, then back to Hank.
“I just woke up,” he lied. Then he flexed his hands and feet. “Feeling…actually, much better.”
“Good,” Hank said. He cleared his throat. “It must be odd to see me. It certainly is odd for me to see you. I take it that things are different in your old universe?”
“Yeah,” Logan said, voice suddenly thick. He hadn’t told anyone the specifics but Laura, not even Wade, but they all knew something horrible had happened that made him reluctant to go to the mansion.
Wade abruptly stood up and crossed over behind Hank, ostensibly to get a tissue and wipe the drool off his face. But he took the opportunity to mouth “Fine. Red. Mist” over Hank’s shoulder. Logan laughed, then coughed. Hank turned to Wade, who was completely turned away now, the picture of innocence.
“Of course,” Hank said, and sat in the chair Laura had taken. “I’m always glad to see any version of you, Logan. I hope you know that.”
Wade clapped. “Great therapy session! Want to tell us what’s wrong with Logan or can you start in on my daddy issues?”
“Thanks,” Logan told Hank, genuinely touched. “Sit the fuck down,” he told Wade, even though he was glad to be off the topic.
Hank cleared his throat. “Mr. Wilson, maybe you should wait ou—”
“Wade can stay,” Logan said. Maybe a little too fast. Wade sat down on the arm of his chair, preening. Logan rolled his eyes. “If you shut the fuck up,” he amended.
He pouted and slid down into the seat proper. Hank watched him, then turned to Logan, shaking his head a little as if to clear it.
“You were injected with various amounts of a chemical that suppressed your healing factor,” Hank said, “and then tortured. Once the injections stopped, you started healing enough that you were mostly stable, but still in a great deal of pain and in need of monitoring. So Mr. Wilson brought you here, with the help of Colossus.” He checked the IV bags. “Thank you for leaving those in,” he said, a little dry. “They were just painkillers, nutrients, and antibiotics, but they sped up your healing considerably. I believe that as of a few hours ago, you’re back to normal.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Four days,” Hank says. “And we think you were captured for about four or five days beforehand. When you got here, you slept for quite a while. It’s been two days since you first woke up.”
“Can you take these fucking things out of my arm, then?” Logan said, finally, and brandished the IVs at Hank.
He smiled. “Absolutely. This will be a good test, actually,” he said, starting to mutter to himself. He pulled the tape off and pulled the cannula out of Logan’s arm. The little holes healed immediately.
“Fuck yeah,” Wade said, leaning over so far to look he was in danger of falling. “You think you’re good, Wolvie? Wanna go home?”
Yeah, he wanted to go home. He really, really wanted to go home.
“Yeah,” Logan said. “But first, you got a knife on you?”
“Baby, I got any knife your little heart desires.” Wade pulled out three knives of different sizes. Hank pinched his brow.
“Doesn’t matter,” Logan said. “Just cut me. Wanna make sure.”
Wade glanced up at him. “You sure, pumpkin?”
“Yeah,” Logan said, and then cursed when Wade cut deep into the back of his arm. “Jesus Christ, you could have warned me.” The cut was already closed. He sighed, relieved.
“Easier to re-locate a shoulder and stab someone if they’re not expecting it,” Wade said, and wiped the knife on Logan’s hoodie before it disappeared back underneath it. Hank rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
“Well,” Hank said. “I think you’re cured. You’re free to go. It was good to see you, Logan.”
Wade had gotten Dopinder to bring Logan a change of clothes with the comforter and a change of clothes for Wade (“I know that’s my fucking hoodie, asshole. You better hope the blood comes out”). It was nice to finally have pants again. Wade had found his phone, off but otherwise unharmed, in the lab, so he had that now too.
They woke Laura up before they left and she gave Logan a long hug.
“Call tomorrow, please,” she said. “Or I’ll come over.” She turned to Wade. “He’s really okay?”
“Yeah,” Wade said. “You think Hank would let him leave otherwise?”
Laura exhaled. “Tomorrow. Call.” She hugged Logan again and then let them go.
It was sometime at night. He hadn’t bothered to turn his phone on and check the time. Wade called an Uber, claiming he’d asked enough of Dopinder for one day, and they walked down the driveway while they waited. Logan felt his shoulders relax a little more for every step he took away from the mansion. Wade was singing under his breath, not trying to engage Logan in conversation, which he was grateful for. In the car, Logan dozed against the window while Wade and the driver chatted.
Then they were home, just three flights of stairs separating Logan from their bed. He trudged up them, Wade following a little too closely behind. He slipped in front of Logan to unlock the door and threw it open.
“The prodigal king returns!”
Mary Puppins bounded towards them, dancing happily around Logan’s feet. He bent down to pet her, a smile playing on his lips.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Althea asked, appearing from her bedroom, and then tilted her head. “Damn, he found you. Come over here and let me get a look at you.”
Wade opened his mouth to say something and she glared in his direction. “You know what the fuck I mean, asshole.”
Logan walked over to her, and she found his face immediately with her hands. Behind them, Wade muttered, “Freaky old woman. How does she do that.” He picked Mary Puppins up and started putting her little booties on. “Taking our daughter out. Be back soon.”
Althea finished her exploration just as Wade went out the door. She patted Logan on the cheek.
“So you’re all in one piece.” She leaned back on her cane. “Wade was absolutely shitting himself when you didn’t come home. Then he disappeared, too, didn’t even tell me he’d found you. Asshole.” She sighed. “You doing okay, hon?”
Tears pricked at Logan’s eyes, though he didn’t know why. “Yeah. Just tired. Back to normal now.”
“Good,” Althea said, and squeezed his arm. “Start the laundry before you go to sleep.
The rug is absolutely soaked in dog piss.”
“Christ,” Logan said.
She ambled away, and he threw the rug into the washer. Then he stumbled to the shower. As the smells of the mansion and the lab slid off him, he took a deep breath, relieved. He was just pulling on sweatpants when Wade got back, nose red from the cold. He took a look at Logan, then bent to take off Mary’s boots.
“Who’s the prettiest girl in the whole world! I missed you so much,” Wade said, as Mary licked his nose.
Logan watched him for a moment, then started wrestling with the couch. He got it set up and the sheets on, and then ran out of energy. He collapsed onto it, face first.
“Here,” Wade said, and threw a pillow at his head. He pulled out the Little Mermaid comforter, but even though it had smelled like home in the mansion, now it smelled like hospital.
“You got another one around here?” Logan said it mostly into the pillow, which he’d shoved under his face.
“Yeah,” Wade said, after a moment. He went for the fuzzy Hello Kitty blanket he usually used on the couch. “This warm enough?”
Logan was almost asleep. “Yeah,” he said, blearily, and barely felt Wade cover him up.
Wade was already gone when Logan woke up early, and his side of the bed was cold. Logan shuffled into the kitchen and found a post-it-note proclaiming he was “out with Puppins <3”. Logan started the coffee.
He looked back at the bed, then turned his phone on. There were missed texts from Wade, plus a handful of voicemails, and a few from Laura. There were two calls from numbers he didn’t have saved. His stomach twisted. He knew what these were about, but. He couldn’t help but look.
The texts from Wade were normal, at first:
youll never guess what olivia did in the casa de amor
sorry do you not care about matt’s heartbreak
you having fun stabbing people, pookie?
Then:
you okay, peanut? can you text me? or al?
are u mad. its ok if youre mad just text and ill stop texting
thumbs up counts. skull counts. whatever emoji you so desire
laura said she couldnt get a hold of you?
Wade called, too, asking if Logan had been watching Top Chef after work, then if he was mad again, then two in quick succession:
“Logan. I’m going crazy here. Well. Crazier. You okay? I will literally send you a thousand dollars for your new life off the grid if you just tell me you’re okay.”
“Too late,” Wade said in the next voicemail. Logan could hear zipping sounds in the background, and imagined Wade hopping around, phone tucked under his chin, pulling on the suit. “Coming to get you. Gonna be real awkward for you and your new farm wife, or whatever, but I’ve kidnapped you once and I’ll do it again if I have to.” He paused. “You really can—it’s okay if you want to leave. But Laura’s really worried. So.” He cleared his throat. “See you soon, Logan.”
He started thumbing through Laura’s texts, one inviting him to lunch, getting upset when he didn’t reply, then worried. He ran a hand over his face. It wasn’t really his fault he’d missed it, but he’d have to take her somewhere special to make up for it. Just when he was trying to be a steady presence, this shit happened.
The other two calls were from Scott and Colossus. Both very business-like, but he hadn’t heard Scott’s voice since…everything. They were just checking in. If he didn’t want to talk to Wade, they said, carefully, they would still like to hear from him that everything was okay.
Those came three days after he got grabbed. So they’d found him the next day.
His finger hovered over the delete button, but he saved the voicemails. The coffee maker beeped at him. He poured himself a cup right as Wade came through the door.
“What are you doing up, babycakes? It’s 5:30 am.”
Logan shrugged. “Been sleeping the last few days. Finally feel a little less exhausted. Why aren’t you asleep?”
Wade grabbed Mary Puppins and held her over his head, Lion King style. “Mary Puppins waits for no man.” He put her down with a kiss on the head and brushed past Logan to get his own cup of coffee, then started loading it up with sugar. Logan eyed him. There was a time a month or so into them living together that Wade hadn’t slept for five days straight. Logan was about to spike a drink with sleeping pills on the sixth, but that’s when Wade collapsed and slept for fourteen hours. Althea had just clucked her tongue, said he got all worked up sometimes and couldn’t turn it off.
Wade sat at the counter, kicking his feet, and Logan leaned against it. He took a sip of coffee. God, of all the stupid things he’d missed, he’d really missed coffee.
“So, you thought I’d gone off the grid and gotten married?”
Logan had only seen Wade blush maybe once. The man was almost impossible to embarrass. But he turned bright red now. It was surprisingly cute.
“Should’ve deleted those fucking voicemails before I gave you back the phone,” he muttered.
Logan just raised an eyebrow and took another sip.
“I didn’t know what to think! You were just gone. But you’re the Wolverine, so I figured…you were probably fine, and just sick of me. Of,” Wade waved his hands. “All this.”
“You really think I would do that to you? To Laura?”
“Okay, yeah, that’s when I started getting worried. I got the X-men to call—sorry. And nothing. So Chuck tracked you down in that fancy-pants machine he has and while everyone was saying ‘let’s get a plan together’ I drove forty miles per hour over the speed limit and started stabbing people.” Wade was out of breath for once. He swallowed. “And that encouraged haste.”
“I mostly remember hearing gunshots,” Logan said, mild.
“I guess the stabbing was later,” Wade said. “And the arson.”
“Arson?”
“They were keeping notes,” Wade growled. “On paper, like it’s the fucking 1980s. They’re all gone. So is the lab.”
Logan wouldn’t have said he was stressed or scared at all anymore. But hearing that made his shoulders relax anyway.
“Thanks, bub.”
“It’s what I did when it happened to me,” Wade said, light, then changed the subject as forcefully as a car crash. “You missed all of our TV last week! It’s Sunday, we’re going to have to hustle to catch up. You got plans?” He glanced up at Logan, trying for casual and failing, something about his shoulders too tight.
Logan huffed a laugh. “No. Actually, gotta call Laura once it’s not so goddamn early. But otherwise, sure. You’re going to have to remind me who everyone is.”
They caught up on TV, sitting so close that Wade’s arm brushed his every time he leaned forward to jabber enthusiastically about something or other. Althea woke up a few hours later and joined them for The Bachelor before leaving to do whatever she did over at her friend Linda’s house. Logan paid enough attention to get the gist, but mostly he luxuriated in being home, behind a locked door and in a place that smelled like him. The lumpy couch he was far too heavy to be sleeping on every night felt wonderful after the hospital bed.
Logan called Laura that afternoon and they ordered takeout that night, all three of them at the table and Mary begging for scraps underneath it. Anytime Logan closed his eyes, he could still hear all of their heartbeats. Wade was still awake and scrolling on his phone when Logan went to sleep, curled on his side towards him. Close enough to touch. Logan slept hard and didn’t dream.
When Logan woke up the next morning, early again, Wade was out of bed already. Logan started doing the math: 2 nights at home, 4 days in the hospital with just a nap, if his hunch was right. Maybe a few days before that, looking for him. He rolled out of bed as quietly as he could. Wade had his back turned, starting the coffee and toasting some pop tarts. Wade didn’t have super hearing, but he was paranoid and light on his feet. It was hard to get the drop on him. But today, Logan crept up behind him without him noticing.
“Hey.”
Wade jumped, almost dropping his mug. “Jesus fuck,” he said. “I’m putting a bell on you. What’d you do that for?”
“Supporting evidence,” Logan said, and reached around Wade to grab the coffee pot. “You haven’t slept in a week.”
“You can’t prove anything,” Wade said. “And it’s not like I really need to sleep. They usually skip that in the comics anyway.”
“What?”
“Look, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve been sleeping plenty.”
“You didn’t hear me coming up behind you.”
“Can’t a man relax in his own home?”
Logan took a sip of his coffee. “No.”
Wade stuck an entire pop tart in his mouth. He sat down at the counter, pouting. “Fine. We’ll go to sleep early tonight. Happy?”
“Thrilled,” Logan said, completely straight faced. He finished his coffee, made some eggs, with enough for Wade. Wade was quiet, which was also unusual. He’d put on HGTV and was watching House Hunters almost solemnly instead of loudly guessing how long each marriage was going to last. Logan slid a plate of eggs in front of him and he jumped again.
“Maybe you should nap while I’m out today.”
“Out?” Wade was halfway through chewing some eggs.
“Got a job.”
“You have a job,” Wade said, and put his fork down. “Two days after recovering from,” and waved his hands.
Logan shrugged. “I missed a few other ones, and this one is simple. Might as well get back on the horse.” He grabbed his suit out of the dresser and started pulling it on in the bathroom, coming out again when he had the bottom half on. Wade stood up.
“So,” he said, bouncing on his toes. “You’re entirely back to normal. You feel fine?”
Logan rolled his head on his neck. “Yeah.”
“Just…going to go right back to it?”
“To what?”
Wade threw his hands out to the side. “Life, I guess. Don’t you want to, I don’t know, take it easy? Eat some ice cream, cry about it?”
Logan gave him a flat look. “No.” He finished pulling on his suit.
“Can I come?” Wade asked, the words bursting out of him. “I’ll be sooo quiet, it’ll be like I’m not even there.”
“No,” Logan said. “It’ll take you forever to get ready, and this’ll be easy. For real this time. I’ll be home for dinner.” Wade had barely touched his non-pastry breakfast. “Nap. Eat your eggs.” He clapped Wade on the shoulder, grabbed his keys, and left.
Logan was right, it was actually easy this time. It was a quick job for someone who couldn’t be shot to death. These people were trafficking hard drugs and lacing them with fentanyl, but they didn’t have any mutant firepower, just a fuck ton of guys with machine guns. Logan tore through their operations in an hour or so. He collected some of their records, and checked for anything more undesirable they might be trafficking as well. Luckily, this time it was just pounds of heroin and rolls of cash. He left the cash alone and waited near the drugs for someone to come get them for incineration. And just like that he was done, bloody but barely even sweating.
He got Thai and went home. Wade was sitting at the counter, playing something on an old Gameboy. When Logan came in, his head snapped up.
“Hey,” Wade said, and seemed to get stuck on Logan’s bloody suit.
Logan looked down at himself. He shrugged. “Guns. Didn’t leave a scratch.”
“You’re going to have to get your suit repaired,” Wade said. “Again. I think you just like showing off your hairy tits.”
“Don’t call them that,” Logan said, sighing, and put the takeout down. Wade was odd all night, a little quieter than usual, tracking Logan around the apartment. But he went to bed with Logan earlier than usual, too, without a huge fight, so Logan was going to take the win. He laid down facing Wade again, and glared at him until he put his phone away, laid down, and closed his eyes.
“Happy?”
“Yep,” Logan said, and fell asleep.
Logan had been sleeping more deeply since coming to Wade’s universe. He wasn’t sure if it was sheer exhaustion or something else, but before Wade circuitously asked if his nightmares ever woke Logan up, Logan hadn’t even realized he had them. It made sense; Wade had regaled him with what he called his tragic backstory, dropping horrific anecdotes as if he was doing a stand up routine. But he hadn’t ever woken up.
Tonight he must have been a little edgy from his whole ordeal, or maybe Wade was just a little louder than usual. Logan stirred, thinking the dog wanted to go out. But it was Wade crying in his sleep, making horrible little noises that made Logan want to tear something to shreds.
“Wade,” he said, and touched his shoulder. Wade shot up, knife suddenly in his hand, and stabbed Logan through the shoulder. Then he let go, eyes wide. He looked young, frozen with his hand up.
“Not going to take it out?” Logan asked, light. He grabbed the hilt and pulled it out with a grunt. A few drops of blood fell on the sheets. His shoulder healed fast, and he circled it a few times to make sure it was good to go. Wade watched, blinking fast.
“Shouldn’t have touched you,” Logan said. “I’m the same way. Sorry, bub.”
“No, it’s okay,” Wade said, shaky. He reached a hand towards Logan’s shoulder, not quite touching. “You’re okay.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t, uh,” Wade said. “Seeing you. Not healing. In a place like where I got, you know.” Wade took a breath. “Just processing. It’s all just processing in the ol’ noggin. I’ll be better soon.” He sounded like he was talking to himself.
“You had a nightmare about me?” Logan was more incredulous than anything. He was fine. He was healed, he was unkillable, indestructible.
“Yeah. Sorry. Really poor etiquette to make your trauma about me, am I right.”
“My trauma?”
Wade blinked at him.
“Did you miss the whole,” Wade said, and waved his hand. “Last week?”
“Oh,” Logan said. “Yeah. I guess.”
“You guess?” Wade said, sounding a little hysterical.
“I,” Logan said, and sighed. “I’ve been through a lot worse. I’m good at…compartmentalizing. I don’t like to dwell on it.”
“Sure, sure,” Wade said, nodding. “All that toxic masculinity. I, personally, got a little fucked up by seeing you in a fucking. Tube. I would prefer we were both tubeless for the rest of our lives.” He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “So sorry if I get my fragile girly emotions all over you. Give me, like. A week.”
“I never called them girly,” Logan muttered. “Don’t put that shit on me.”
“Great, you’re uncancelled.”
Wade sniffled quietly for another minute or two, looking resolutely down at the comforter. There was a loose thread near Ariel’s head, and Wade picked at it.
“I’m fine, Wade. I can’t really be hurt.”
“You can be hurt,” Wade said. “You just can’t die. Probably. A little less than I can’t die.”
Logan sighed. “Sure. So you don’t have to worry.”
“Oh, yeah, that’ll fix it. Thanks. Saving me thousands in therapy.”
Logan growled, low in his throat. “What do you want me to say?”
Wade slumped. “I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his face. “You’re right,” he said, finally. “You’re right.” He took a shuddering breath out. “You’re fine.”
Logan felt like he was getting this wrong, like he wasn’t actually helping. He didn’t know what to do with Wade having nightmares, and he really didn’t know what to do with him having them about Logan.
“I’m fine,” he repeated, and covered Wade’s hand where he was pulling at the threads. He squeezed it, and then rolled over. “Night, bub.”
Wade slowly laid down; he could feel the bed shifting. “‘Night.”
When Logan woke up, Wade was still asleep, curled close enough to Logan that he could feel his breath. Logan got up as carefully as he could, but Wade was a light sleeper and woke up, squinting at Logan balefully.
“Where’r you going? Too early.” He smashed his head back into his pillow.
“Got another job. Then I’m off for a week.” Logan checked his watch. It wasn’t actually that early, it was later than he had planned to get up. He started some coffee for the road and went to pull on his suit.
When he got back, Wade was lying on his stomach, hands under his chin. He watched Logan grab his travel mug and keys, eyes drifting closed every so often.
“Go the fuck back to sleep or when I get home I’ll sit on you until you do.”
“Promise?” Wade chirped, then yawned. “Okay. Fine. You drive a hard bargain.” He closed his eyes.
“Sleep well, bub,” Logan said, and was out the door.
This job was simple too. The week after, his week off, Wade stayed home with him. When Logan asked about it, he said he was just tired of Deadpooling right now and he aspired to take as much time off as the French. Logan just sighed and took him and Mary on walks to his favorite coffee shop. It was nice. Something was settling in Logan’s brain. This was home. He slept with his back to Wade most nights and slept hard. Wade had proved it, Logan was safe here. It was less of a conscious thought than the slow realization that he wasn’t watching his back anymore. Or jumping at strangers on the street, or panicking in crowds.
There was another month like that, with them both back to work. Not many jobs required both of them, as lethal as they were individually. So while Wade whined that it was less fun working alone, Logan took some solo jobs for the extra cash. Because really, it was fine. They were both unkillable. It made more sense for them to take double the jobs, even if it was a little riskier.
So he was headed out to a job in the city, where some small-time drug dealers wanted to keep a cartel from moving into their turf. Logan wasn’t convinced it would stick, but he was happy enough to scare them off. He took the subway as far as he could and walked the rest of the way, because the building the cartel was working out of was a concrete warehouse in a block or two of industrial buildings by the water. Not really a tourist area. It was the weekend, so it was quiet. Logan easily popped the lock on one of the doors with his claws and slipped inside. He could hear people in the offices. He held his claws by his sides and started forward, intentionally adopting a long, loping stride.
That’s when the entire building exploded.
Logan flew a ways and only stopped because the ceiling collapsed on him. He heard screaming and the overwhelming roar of the building folding in on itself, and then he was buried, and he passed out.
When he came to, Logan was in a small pocket of air like a cave, buried in the rubble. His legs hurt, horribly. Worse was the piece of rebar that had stabbed through his chest at just the right angle to go all the way through, and, from the feel of it, punctured his lung. There was no way to pull it out without a plan. It was part of the concrete slab above him, propping it up like a tent to loom over his lower half.
He started to think: first, the rebar, then he would worry about whatever was going on with his legs. He could slice through it and try to push the slab it was supporting to the side at the same time. Then pull the rebar out of his chest. And then reassess. It was dark. Logan could only hear his own breathing. He wondered if he was the only one alive under here. If he wasn’t, he still didn’t want to shout for help and alert the people he was coming to scare off that he was vulnerable. But he was pretty sure they were all dead.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to have to do this. He could barely breathe, and he was lightheaded, and he was scared, and his legs hurt so much he was too afraid to even look at them.
He remembered the feeling of seeing Wade and Colossus in the hospital-warehouse, the sheer relief that he didn’t have to be in charge anymore. He ached. He wanted Wade.
There was something twisting in his gut as he groped in his pocket for his phone. Nervousness? Shame? He focused on the pain of moving to distract him. He dragged his phone out of his pocket to lie on the ground next to him. Wade was in his recent calls list. He slowly punched in his passcode and called him.
“Hey, babygirl, I’m on my way home. You want Mexican?”
Just hearing Wade’s voice calmed him down. He closed his eyes, wheezing as he tried to breathe with a punctured lung. “Wade,” he managed. He wasn’t even sure Wade would hear it, but Wade’s voice got as sharp as his katanas.
“Logan? What’s wrong?”
“Crushed.”
“Crushed? What do you mean, crushed?”
“Can’t…talk.”
“Okay,” Wade said. “Okay, thank fuck I turned on your Find my Friends when you were in the hospital. What happened? Fuck, I forgot, you can’t talk. I’m on my way. I have to hot wire a car, so I have to hang up, but I’m coming to get you, okay?”
Logan was out of air. He opened his mouth but nothing came out but a rattling breath.
“Okay, peanut,” Wade said quietly. “See you soon.”
The call ended. Logan passed out.
He came in and out of consciousness for the next little while, not quite dying but teetering on the brink of it, his healing factor keeping him there. He startled when he heard Wade screaming his name.
“Wade,” he said, too quietly. There was no way he was going to hear him down here without hearing like Logan’s. Logan groped for his phone again. He opened his music app and stabbed at it with his finger at random. Immigrant Song came blasting out. Logan collapsed back, eyes closing.
“Logan! I swear to fuck, if this is someone else who just really likes dad rock, I’ll cut your arms off.”
Logan couldn’t laugh but his mouth ticked up at the corner. He could hear Wade closing in, and then the layers of rubble over top of him shifting. “This song is pretty much entirely associated with Thor, honey badger, but I’ll let you have it. You under here?” He didn’t wait for an answer; Logan could hear Wade grunting as he continued to move the slabs of concrete above him.
Wade was close, now, so Logan hit his phone with a hand and managed to pause the music.
“Wade,” he tried again, a little louder.
“I heard you,” Wade said, “I hear you. Just—”
Wade shifted something over him, and a sharp piece of concrete slid into his right ankle. He felt the concrete grinding against adamantium and made a mortifying sound, some sort of whimper. But it was brighter now, Wade’s rabbit-fast heartbeat louder in his ears.
“Logan?”
“‘M fine,” he garbled out. Wade heaved aside another slab. Logan had to close his eyes against the sudden brightness.
“Oh, peanut,” Wade said, as upset as Logan had ever heard him. “No wonder you couldn’t talk.”
He kneeled down next to Logan, hands hovering over him like he wanted to touch him but couldn’t figure out where. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, okay.” Logan just looked at him, as relaxed as he could be with a piece of rebar sticking out of him. Wade was here. He’d figure it out.
“You can punch me for this later, but stay still.”
Wade sliced through the rebar with a katana and pushed the concrete it was supporting to the side, where it landed with a crash.
The cut jarred the part still sticking through Logan. He coughed, tasting blood.
“Sorry, sorry.” Wade’s hands hovered over Logan’s face but then they went to the rod still sticking through him. “Gonna feel better when you can breathe, okay? I’m gonna take this out, quick as I can.”
Logan didn’t have time to brace himself because then Wade did tear it out of him. He screamed, or tried to. What came out was more of a rasping moan.
“Sorry, sorry,” Wade was chanting, when Logan could pay attention again. “You’re doing good.”
He took a deep breath for the first time in an hour. He was still woozy from blood loss, but that was nothing compared to not being able to breathe.
“Not your fault, Wade.”
“There we go,” Wade said, sounding genuinely relieved, as if Logan couldn’t come back from anything.
“You don’t sound very Canadian.”
“What?”
“Your ‘sorry’s.”
“Oh,” Wade said, distracted. “They thought too much of an accent would be alienating to an American audience.”
“Sure,” Logan said, with no idea what the fuck he was talking about. Wade was looking at Logan’s legs, quiet. Which was not a good sign.
He’d been carefully avoiding looking at his lower half, but he knew it was bad. He was woozy from blood loss, and when he moved his left leg hurt worse than it would have if it were simply severed. He looked now. His left leg was crushed, hip pinned to the ground and shiny adamantium bone exposed down the length of his leg. His right ankle was pinned with a sharper slab, bleeding out of a cut that went down to the bone. He knew he would be fine, he knew it, he didn’t even have to pull himself out this time, but as soon as he saw it pain exploded in both legs and he threw his head back, panting. It looked like the boys who got blown to bits in World War II. It looked like the time he’d gotten his leg caught in a bear trap and had to rip it out. He twitched, and it jarred everything, which hurt worse, and he realized he was making horrible moaning noises.
“Fuck,” Wade swore. “I’m here, baby, fuck, I’m right here, I’ve got you.” Logan couldn’t stop looking at the remains of his legs, and Wade physically grabbed his face and turned it to him.
“This is going to suck, but you’re going to be fine, okay? I’m here and you’re going to be fine. Can you say it for me?”
Logan was having trouble focusing, his breath coming short and his vision tunneling. Wade pinched his cheek. “Logan?”
“‘M gonna be fine,” he said, trying hard to focus on the bright white eyes of Wade’s mask.
“Good,” Wade said. “Lie back and think of Australia. Worse or better leg first?”
Logan stared at the sky above them, breathing through gritted teeth. “You pick.”
“Okay,” Wade said, and disappeared from his field of vision. “On three,” he said. “One,” and then he picked up the slab crushing Logan’s left leg and kicked Logan out from under it before dropping it with a huge crash.
Logan screamed, tears leaking out of his eyes.
“Sorry, sorry,” Wade said, crouching over him. “Too heavy for me to just pick up and move. Sorry.” He wiped the tears off Logan’s face. It was nice, Logan thought, hazily. He wished he could focus. “Al has bingo tomorrow, you wanna go?”
“What?”
“She needs somebody to read the card to her. You could meet all her old man friends. They’re a little young for you but after today you deserve to be problematic.” His hands were still on Logan’s face, his thumb stroking back and forth over his cheekbones. Logan managed a huff of amusement, and he could tell Wade’s face lit up, even through the mask. Wade glanced behind them.
“Your left leg is all better,” he said. “Hard part’s over.”
He took a deep breath and wiggled his toes. It was sore as fuck, but Wade was right. When he propped himself up on his elbows to look, his leg was whole again. His suit was ripped to tatters, but he’d worry about that later.
“‘M gonna have to do the same thing for the right side. You think you can scoot back once I pick this up?”
“If you don’t fuck with the counting this time,” Logan said.
“It works for shoulders, stabbing, and slabs! The three Ses!” Wade got a grip on the concrete slicing Logan’s ankle open. “Okay. On three. One, two,” and he grunted, lifting the jagged piece. Logan pushed himself back more than he needed to, and Wade let the concrete fall back to the ground. This was the sort of injury Logan was used to, and he was starting to feel a little less dizzy, his body producing blood overtime. The panic was receding, enough that he started to feel embarrassed. He was fine. He couldn’t be killed. He’d gotten himself out of worse spots; he’d crawled across No Man’s Land on his elbows with an arm and a leg both blown off, before his bones were metal. He watched the wound on his foot close up and then circled his foot.
“Can you stand?” Wade offered him a hand.
Logan grunted at him and took it, rising slowly to his feet. New muscles and nerves hurt like hell, but it was closer to exercise ache than a wound, and it was something else he was used to. Wade hovered, but Logan was able to pick his way out of the rubble himself. Then he let Wade lead, not knowing which car was temporarily theirs.
“You, uh, done with what you need to do here?”
Logan winced. “I can’t hear anyone else.” He was going to have to let his employers know that someone else had wanted the cartel gone even more than them. He didn’t think they were the type to blow him up on the job. Not many people were that stupid, anyway, once they knew the Wolverine couldn’t die.
“Okay. Alright.”
Logan stood in front of the driver side door, willing himself to get in. Wade slipped in front of him.
“How about I drive?”
“You got a license?”
“Neither do you,” Wade said, which boded poorly for his driving ability but was also, technically, true. Logan sighed and got in the passenger seat, slumping down.
“So,” Wade said, when they were on the road. He’d pulled his mask off, but his face was completely expressionless. “You called me.”
“Yeah?” Logan infused it with some venom.
“No, I mean. I’m glad you did.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and blew out his lips. “Saved me some freaking out tonight.”
“It was, uh,” Logan said, staring straight ahead. “Thanks. For coming.”
“You’re acting like you thought I wouldn’t,” Wade said, jokey. Logan swallowed.
“Last time. I thought I’d have to get out on my own.”
“What?” Wade’s head snapped to him.
“Eyes on the road,” Logan snapped, then sighed. “Just, shut up for a minute. I, you know. I’ve been tortured a lot.” (“Jesus Christ,” Wade said, under his breath). “And I usually just. Have to figure it out. I knew if I got home, you know, you and Althea would—but it didn’t occur to me you’d look.” He shrugged, uncomfortable. “People usually think I can take care of myself, or that I stormed off and’ll be back when I’ve cooled off. Which is sometimes true.” He paused. “And there was no one left to even wonder about me. In my old universe.” Wade glanced at him, mouth a thin line. Logan shrugged again. “So, I don’t know. I didn’t have to get myself out. And you were there when I woke up.” He shifted, uncomfortable. “That was nice. And I just thought about that, and then. You came today. And that was nice, too.”
Wade pulled off to the side of the road abruptly and slammed the car into park.
“What the fuck?” The seatbelt caught Logan hard as the car lurched to a halt.
Wade was breathing hard. “You are the saddest fucking man in the multiverse, my god,” Wade said, unbuckled his seatbelt, and launched himself at Logan, over the console. He ended up half on Logan and half in between the seats and pressed his face into Logan’s neck, which for some reason made Logan want to cry. He wrapped his arms around Wade, pulling him off of the console and into his lap. It was more comfortable for them both that way. He didn’t think about it any harder.
Wade took a deep, harsh breath and leaned back. “First of all,” Wade said, furious, “do you really think I’m such a dick that I wouldn’t look for you if you just. Disappeared?” Then he shook his head. “Don’t answer that. I’ll come to get you,” he said, furious, “and I can’t fucking die. Even more than you can’t fucking die.”
Logan opened his mouth and Wade clapped a hand over it. “And I don’t care what the fuck you do. I’ll come get you anyway, even if we hate each other. I swear.”
Logan raised his eyebrows and Wade lowered his hand.
“You gonna let me talk now, bub?”
Wade nodded.
Logan opened his mouth, and closed it. He didn’t actually know what to say as much as he needed Wade to stop and let him take a breath. He felt. Warm. “Thank you,” he said, finally. He pulled Wade close again. He hooked his chin over the top of Wade’s head and closed his eyes, listening to his heartbeat.
Logan could’ve fallen asleep like that, right there in the passenger seat of this shitty minivan Wade had stolen, but after a little while Wade pushed himself off Logan and climbed back into the driver’s seat, wiping his face.
“Home. Yeah?”
Logan nodded, and Wade took a deep breath before he started babbling, something about his favorite Pokemon generation. Logan leaned his head on the window and let the words wash over him.
The healing factor was always odd to experience. He’d been on the verge of death an hour ago, and now he was just sore and exhausted. It felt like more than should be left of his pain, but also less. Wade kept hovering, but Logan was able to walk up the stairs to their apartment without help. When they got inside, Mary Puppins danced around their feet while Logan stared at the couch, too tired to pull it out into the bed.
“Here,” Wade said. “Go take a shower.” He paused. “You gonna drown?”
“Not permanently.”
“Haha,” Wade said, “fucking hilarious, I’ll get the bed set up if you promise to at least try not to drown temporarily.”
“Sure, bub.”
The shower eased some of his aches and he felt better not being covered in concrete dust anymore. He limped out to the living room, considered the fact that it was only seven o’clock, and then laid down in the bed that Wade had made up anyway.
“You should eat something,” Wade said, appearing out of the kitchen. He'd changed into a stupid graphic tee and sweatpants. “We’ve got: cereal. Protein bars. Pop tarts. Something that might still be an apple.”
He didn’t want to eat, not even a little, but regenerating took a fuck ton of energy.
“Gimme two protein bars,” Logan said, and forced himself to eat them and drink the water Wade brought him, too, while Wade stood awkwardly near the bed.
He was still tired down to his bones, but he felt antsy, suddenly. Wade wasn’t sitting down, fidgeting, and Logan didn’t like it.
“I wouldn’t leave without telling you,” Logan said, suddenly. Wade glanced down at him.
“What?”
“Last month. You thought I left on my own.”
“Oh,” Wade said. “Yeah. I just,” he said, and shrugged. “You have better options than living with an old blind woman, a naked mole rat with syphilis, and the most perfect dog to ever exist.”
Logan frowned at him. “Don’t fucking say that about yourself.”
Wade laughed, tired, and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You can always defend yourself against defamation if it’s the truth.”
“I like how you look.”
Wade turned to look at him. “Did you get your eyes gouged out today, too? Do I have two blind roommates?”
“Quit it,” Logan said. “I’m serious. You’re Wade, and I like you, so.” He shrugged. “I like how you look.”
Wade stared at him, then laughed, soft. “It’s weird when you’re nice to me. Even when you’re just lying to make me feel better. Maybe especially then.”
Logan growled and sat up straighter so he could grab Wade’s wrist, looking him straight in the eye.
“I’m not fucking joking. Or lying.”
Wade wet his lips with his tongue. “Okay.”
Logan glared at him a second longer, then released his wrist.
Wade flopped down to the bed next to Logan and sighed. “How did we get onto my problems? This fic is supposed to be about you, snookums.”
“You’re an attention whore,” Logan said, flat, ignoring the half of the sentence he didn’t understand.
“I’m wounded,” Wade said. “I’m only the regular sort of whore. I hate attention, actually.”
Logan snorted. “Sure, bub. You start climbing the walls if Althea and I are both out for the day.”
“So I’m an extrovert, sue me.”
“You’re broke.”
“Marvel P Christ,” Wade said. “I dig your ass out of a few tons of budget 90s construction and this is the thanks I get? You suddenly have jokes?”
He rolled over to face Logan, feigning hurt.
Logan looked at him for a long moment, fond. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah, we had our whole moment in the car.” Wade rolled back onto his back. “You gotta be more careful, Loges.”
Loges. Logan swallowed.
Wade threw his arm over his eyes. “You ever think about getting a different job? Don’t you have any marketable skills from being old as fuck?”
Logan shifted. “I can do cars. Probably would do fine at a hardware store. Could paint, do roofs, any sort of manual labor.” He tensed a little. “For a while I taught history.”
Wade brought his arm down and glanced at Logan. “Any of those call to you, grandpa?”
Logan shrugged. “It’s all work. And the mercenary gigs pay triple.”
“They pay triple unless it’s a setup to cut you into little pieces for days before anyone even notices,” Wade muttered.
“I can take it,” Logan said. “If I know you’re coming to get me.”
“Fuck off,” Wade said, choked. He rolled onto his stomach, mashing his face into the pillow. “I don’t want to have to,” he said, at length. Then he sat up. “Not because I don’t want to. I just. Imagine it was Laura.”
He hadn’t felt that much anger since the void, he thought. Just picturing it.
“Okay,” he said, strangled. “Okay.” He paused. “I’m not good at…talking.”
Wade snorted. “Don’t worry, kitten, I’m good enough for the both of us.”
“Shut up. I don’t know how to…do you ever feel like, you’re happy? And you don’t deserve it?”
“Yeah,” Wade said. Watching him.
“And it’s,” Logan said, and fisted his hands in the comforter. “Things are good enough that it doesn’t matter if sometimes you have to go through some bad things. To get back to the good.”
“I think you’re really fucked up.” Logan expected it to hit him as an insult, but Wade just sounded sad.
Logan shrugged with one shoulder. “Yeah. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m happy.”
Wade seemed to have to take a moment to process that. “I’m happy, too. Happy you’re here, and, fuck,” Wade said, voice a little choked. “This is probably a horrible time. But I really want to kiss you.”
“Yeah?” Logan said, heart hammering. “Me being fucked up turns you on?”
“Kind of, because I’m fucked up too,” Wade said. “Someday remind me to tell you about how I met Vanessa.”
Logan growled. “Later.”
“Yeah,” Wade said, eyes wide. “Yeah. So. You going to kill me now, or?”
Logan reached in and pulled Wade towards him by the waist, then kissed him.
Wade gasped, kissing back.
“I didn’t think you’d actually be down for this. That was kind of a shot in the dark.” Wade opened his mouth and let Logan lick into it. Logan wanted his fingers there. He wanted his cock there. He wanted to lie there and suck on Wade’s tongue for hours. “But I’m not complaining,” Wade said when they pulled apart, panting.
Logan pressed his mouth against Wade’s temple. “Why do you think I’m happy?” he said, low. Wade hid his face in Logan’s neck.
“I dunno. You might have to spell it out for me.”
“Yeah?” Logan said, and grabbed Wade’s ass, slipping his thigh in between Wade’s. “This helping?”
“Yeah,” Wade said, “yeah, it’s really helping, though I’d love even more information—”
Logan ground into Wade’s thigh, cock already half-hard. Wade gasped. “Fuck, yeah, babygirl. You’re really into this.”
“You sound surprised.” He tugged Wade closer, groaning when he felt Wade’s hard cock pressing into his leg.
“You told me to stop talking about how I look, so,” Wade said, a little pissed, though he was running his hands up Logan’s biceps and over his chest.
“Yeah, because it’s bullshit,” Logan said. “You’ve got this ass, these thighs.” He pinched them and Wade squeaked. “Your shoulders. Your arms. Your eyes.”
“You better stop unless you want this to be really quick,” Wade panted, grinding down on Logan.
“Don’t have a lot of energy tonight anyway,” Logan admitted. “Just want you.”
“This okay?” Wade said, and ran his fingers under the waistband of Logan’s boxers.
“Yeah,” Logan said, and groaned. “Fuck, please.”
Wade pushed Logan’s boxers down and less gently squirmed out of his sweatpants, then spit in his hand. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. Fuck.” He paused for a moment, looking at Logan’s dick. “I want that in me as soon as fucking possible.”
Logan laughed. “Focus.”
“Right,” Wade said, and took them both in hand. Logan shuddered, bucking up into his hand, into his cock.
“‘M not gonna last long, either.”
“That’s fine,” Wade said, breathless. “Fuck. That’s fine, babygirl, show me how much you like it.”
“Yeah,” Logan said, “yeah, fuck,” and thrust up into Wade’s hand one, two, three more times, and came. Wade worked him through it and Logan shivered with pleasure. The feeling of someone else’s hand on his cock, the amount Wade wanted him, the feeling of being pressed up against a warm body, and not just any body, but one that made him feel safe.
He’d collapsed into Wade’s chest, and he rubbed his cheek against Wade’s shoulder. Wade was jerking himself off, eyes wide, head thrown back. Logan moved up and bit Wade’s neck. “You gonna come for me now, darlin’?”
“Fuck,” Wade whimpered, and came.
If he hadn’t been so exhausted, Logan would have been on his way to round two, just from seeing it. As it was, he kissed Wade’s shoulder and rubbed circles into his hip until he came down.
Wade stared up at the ceiling, his clean hand stroking Logan’s hair. “One of us should’ve gotten stuck under a building weeks ago.”
Logan snorted into Wade’s shoulder. “Easy for you to say, asshole.”
“So was this, like,” Wade said. “Glad to be out from under a building sex, or?”
Logan pushed himself up on an elbow. “Don’t really know how much clearer I can be, bub. And I don’t do casual.”
“I’m usually a lot smoother than this,” Wade told him. “When I recover from the fact that you want to date me, I’ll be so smooth. You’ll be so wooed. Just give me, like. One business week.”
Logan looked at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. “So you want to date me?”
“Oh my god,” Wade said. “Don’t tease me. I’ll come. Again.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “I’m going the fuck to sleep.”
“Wait,” Wade said, and got a washcloth to clean the come off of them. He turned off the lights and then crawled back into bed. Althea wasn’t even home from bingo yet, but there was no way Logan was staying up any longer. He curled into Wade and sighed against his shoulder.
“Night.”
Wade ran a hand through his hair. “Night, peanut.”
The next morning, Logan managed to get out from under the tangle of Wade’s limbs without waking him up, for once. He rolled his head on his shoulders. He felt close to normal after a good night of sleep. He took a moment to look at his relaxed face, and then he grabbed Wade’s laptop. With three people paying the rent on a one bedroom, it wouldn’t be horribly hard to bring in his portion. And the X-men were making noises about giving him the original Logan’s nest egg. He might be able to guilt the TVA into somehow getting him his, instead, if that doesn’t work out. Regardless, he thought he could make rent working as a mechanic. He took down five addresses to hit later today and bookmarked a few roofing jobs while he was at it. He wasn’t looking forward to having to write a resume, and Wade would be worse than useless...maybe Peter could help—
Wade’s arms landed on his shoulders.
“Whatcha doing?”
Logan jumped a little, feeling caught out. He cleared his throat. “Looking at jobs. You know. Just some options.”
Wade was silent behind him for a moment. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He closed the laptop, feeling awkward. He turned around in the chair, straddling it. Wade let him, arms still on his shoulders. “Figured maybe I should try. Letting things be good.”
“Just the job?”
Logan got up, stepping around the chair. He kissed Wade on the corner of his mouth.
“Buy me breakfast and I’ll let you know.”