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Logan felt bad the second the words left his mouth. Wade never let anything get to him and when he did—he never let anyone else know it got to him. But now? Without his mask? Wade couldn’t hide the flash of hurt that had come across his face. He played it off quickly, making a joke to cover up his feelings—but he wasn’t quick enough. No, never for someone like Logan. He noticed. He noticed even the smallest little shift in Wade’s expression, even if he didn’t get to see his face so often. Maybe that’s why he was so aware of it.
Logan didn’t apologize. He never did. Wade understood, though, he always did. Logan had his own ways of making up for it. Knuckles turning white with how hard he was gripping onto Wade’s hip as he pressed his mouth into his.
“Careful with the goods, peanut, you’re gonna—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Logan growled, tongue sliding into Wade’s mouth sloppily. Logan knew how bad Wade wanted to talk, wanted to mouth off and say something gross to ruin the mood. Logan wouldn’t let that happen, his hand traveled up Wade’s body, gripping the back of his neck. Wade moaned into his mouth, pulling away for a moment. Breathing heavily, Logan shook his head and dove back in before Wade could get a word out.