Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For some stupid fucking reason, the TVA, who was apparently super grateful for them having saved the world and who had promised to leave them the fuck alone, was knocking on their front door at 5am. 

Logan had answered the door, since he was the resident couch dweller because Althea and Wade slept together in the single bedroom of the apartment. It had been maybe a month and a half after the whole saving the world stunt Logan was somehow roped into, and he was still adjusting to being in a whole new dimension. Not that he wasn't trying to get back on his feet, but it was hard. The cab company he used to work for in his timeline... before... well, they let him pick up a few shifts. But with everything being so different from his timeline, Logan didn't have the mind to move out just yet. The thought only really crossed his mind when he slipped on one of Althea's cocaine stuffed bras. 

Long story short, that's how he found himself back in his suit, walking through one of those weird orange time door things with his roommate. 

"Ah, it's nice to be back in this beaut' of a suit," Wade sighed, "It's like old times Peanut!"

Logan grunted in response. "How do you even know how to work that..." he trailed off, gesturing to the metallic device in Wade's hand. 

"Tempad? Yeah, rough name for primetime sci-fi tech in my opinion. Oh, you've got a heavy flow? Make it easy with the multiversally absorbent Tempads! Hopefully this particular sanitary pad doesn't contain lead or anything. But to answer your question Honey Badger, I got pretty skilled with the whole time device business when I traversed the multiverse to find you. It's a pretty convenient plot device. Especially for quick escapes, some of your not-so-nice but still-totally-sexy counterparts were pretty feisty," Wade made a claw with his hand and growled seductively. Logan just tried to ignore half of his partner's rambles, as asking for clarification usually just ended in more confusion for the older man. 

"Remind me why we agreed to do this?" 

"Because we're the unkillable cockroaches of the multiverse, Sugar-tits. Apparently we're the only versions of us nice enough to go in and destroy this time-hopping Kingpin for our bureaucratic besties at the TVA. Weird choice for a multiversal villain, I know, but apparently this one was breaking the laws of the multiverse to look for a universe without a Spider-Man or Daredevil or any other member of Team Red and one where his wife and kid don't despise him and/or die. Pretty strict requirements. Plus he always has a lot of goons that are easy to write fights with."

The warehouse they were in was stacked with boxes and dusty as hell. The windows lining the ceiling were broken in most places, letting in the typical New York humidity in. The night breeze didn't reach the pair of men, but it could be heard whistling outside. 

"B-15– whatever kind of name that is– said we couldn't kill him, right?" 

Wade groaned. "We can still try, Peanut. Don't sound so sad about it, Kingpins are typically almost as indestructible as the two of us, for some weird reason, so you can let loose. Probably. I mean, who would really miss a Kingpin? They're like a dime a dozen. But yes, she specifically said to take him back to the TVA alive so they can probably do some creepy mind wipe shit and throw him back to his own timeline. Boo." 

Logan was suddenly reminded that the same thing could've very well happened to him. He briefly wondered why the TVA even let him live in Wade's universe, even if the anchor being shit was true. Maybe they were waiting for him to fuck up. For him to doom Wade's timeline again-

"Or maybe the timeline bullshit doesn't really matter," he heard Wade grumble, "The folks at home really only care about the characters. Or the actors, specifically. And their sweet, succulent, fake bods." 

Logan ignored him. 

"Who are you?" A voice called from behind them. 

Logan’s claws unsheathed on instinct at the same time that Wade reached for his holster. As usual, Wade did the talking. 

“Hello, fair warehouse dweller. Working for the Kingpin tonight?”

The man scowled, his shifty eyes looking between the mountains of boxes, obviously looking for an out. 

“Who’s asking?” he barked, a thick New York accent shining through with his nervousness. Logan’s claws shone in the moonlight. 

“Listen, my buddy and I just want to talk to the big guy. Wanna take us to him or do you feel like dancing? I’m flexible. In more ways than one,” Wade sing-songed. 

The man whistled. Logan rolled his eyes upon seeing the other henchmen he had already smelled reveal themselves from the shadows. 

“Cue the music then!” Deadpool cried cheerfully. Logan assumed it was some kind of ritual saying Wade liked to do before every fight because as per usual, no music played. Though he could hear Wade humming something that sounded suspiciously like Brittany Spears’ “Gimme More”. 

What Logan had noticed a long time ago was that Deadpool was more or less an extension of Wade Wilson himself. He was mouthy with or without the costume. He was weirdly light on his feet, at least in comparison to Logan. In costume, he was even more exaggerated in his gestures than he was out of it, which really should’ve been impossible. He could wield a kitchen knife as well as he could wield a katana. 

Which is to say, as Deadpool sliced a man’s arm off in two parts with only one swift move, Logan saw Wade in his “Kiss The Cock!” apron dicing three chicken breasts in under 10 seconds. Never before in his 200 years of life has he been able to equate fighting with domesticity, but when Deadpool was the man he spent practically every waking moment with, Wade was always in the back of his mind. 

Were the voices in his roommate’s head spreading to his own? 

At that horrific thought, Logan punched his claws through the skull of one of the men who rushed at him, while still watching Wade out of the corner of his eye. His partner shot a bullet that went through the heads of four men at once, laughing maniacally and bullying their fresh corpses for standing so close together while fighting. 

He slashed the thigh of another one of Kingpin’s gangsters as Wade flipped over another man and stabbed his katanas through two men’s guts at the same time. Their bodies fell at the same time, with Wade withdrawing his sword and wiping the blood off the twin blades with the crook of his elbow. Logan, without sparing a glance at his assailant, kicked the gangster into a pile of boxes, which caused a large enough crash that he was pretty sure the man wasn’t going to get up. 

With his eyes still on Wade, he started an all out brawl with the next guy that came for him. It was hard to pay attention to the punches he was throwing, as watching Wade dance around was ten times more entertaining than the face he was smashing into oblivion with his adamantium fists.

For as loud as Wade was, when it came to moving around he was as silent as a fox. Logan would know, since Wade has taken claws to the eyes a couple times having accidentally snuck up on him. 

Logan felt the man under him pass out as he watched his partner land some sort of twisting somersault onto a man’s shoulders and choke him out with his thighs before stuffing “baby knife” into his eye, then leaping off and landing on his feet like some sort of bloodthirsty gymnast. 

Logan had super-hearing, so hearing heartbeats was nothing new, but his own heartbeat startled him as it suddenly roared in his ears. He backed up off of the man he had punched half to death and stood still. Images of Deadpool’s thighs by his neck as Logan drove his claws into his sides in a tight-spaced car floated through his mind and straight to his–

Bang!

Logan turned his head so fast his neck might as well have snapped. Smoke lazily leaked from his chest up towards his nose where he inhaled deeply before charging at the man who managed to land a hit on him. He slashed at the man’s wrist, to which his hand fell to the ground along with his gun. 

That’s for putting a hole in my suit, Logan thought as the man screeched in horror. Wade might be annoyed, as he had repaired the entire suit himself. Not without suggesting to Logan that he should simply do all his superhero-ing shit shirtless, but the gesture was touching nonetheless. Not that Logan would admit that.

Touching in all the right places, I hope, said a voice in Logan’s head that sounded suspiciously like Wade.

He sliced the screaming gunman’s throat with a swift motion. 

“Oh, Honey Badger!” Wade singsonged, “Smell any more or can we move on from all the expositional action?” 

Logan sniffed the air as he moved to meet Wade in the middle of their carnage. He only smelled blood. And heard nothing but their two loud heartbeats and a couple faint ones from the ground. 

“Clear,” Logan reported, “Um… the suit kind of…” he gestured to the hole by his heart. 

Wade made a hand wavy motion. “It’s fine, I’ve got leftover fabric. I’ll fix it at home, hopefully Blind Al doesn’t take it to make kevlar old-lady panties.”

Home .

“Of course, I gotta say I told you so, having those perky tits of yours out would solve this whole–”

Logan growled at him. Wade shut up, but he could see him grinning under the mask. 

“C’mon Peanut,” Deadpool said, “Let’s get back to our timeline before the Golden Girls reruns start.”

It didn’t really make sense, as technically the TVA could place the pair anywhere in time, but Logan said nothing. 

B-15 paid them and sent Wade and Logan back to their– well, Wade’s– timeline. Not without criticizing their methods (killing anyone in their way), but it was well worth the money. 

Wade had scoffed and accused her of planning to have the time criminals pruned anyway, before begging to know why Thor was crying. 

Logan was just glad to be back home as they walked through the bright orange… door? Portal? 

It didn’t matter, as there was a more pressing question on Logan’s mind. 

“Were you a gymnast or something?” He asked gruffly, as Wade kicked off his boots. The man always took off his mask last, and sometimes even kept it on around the apartment. Which annoyed Logan to no end, as it was harder to know what the hell was going on in Wade’s head when his face was covered. Not that he wanted to know, because it was almost never appropriate, but still. For someone who talked as much as he did, Wade’s expressions always gave Logan a better idea of what was actually happening behind the over-the-top and nonsensical word vomit that escaped his lips. 

“Why? Trying to test how flexible I am, Peanut?” 

Nevermind. Logan never wanted to know what was going on in Wade Wilson’s head. 

“You fight like a fucking Eye Popper ‘s all,” he grumbled. 

“Aw! That’s like… almost a compliment!” Wade cooed, slipping on Althea’s crocs, “If you must know, I had a friend who had a trampoline in high school. Loved that thing almost as much as I loved getting the hell out of my house. Boooooring backstory, I know. But! I lost the rest of my virginity on that thing, and apparently nothing impresses the Special Forces and I guess a Wolverine like a couple flips and tricks.”

Logan removed his cowl and set it on the side table as usual, the empty space next to it waiting for its red counterpart.  

“Enough about my extraordinary double back tucking abilities that would make even Simone Biles a jealous little jelly-bean,” Wade said, making a suggestive grabby motion at Logan’s chest area, “Let those titties out–”

Logan growled. 

“–So I can sew up that second asshole you grew, you perv.”

Later, when Logan would be sitting on the couch, shirtless, with Wade sewing up his suit on the floor, with his mask still on and sporting a Hello Kitty pajama set, when Mary Puppins would be panting from her restless doggy-dreams and drooling on Logan’s boxers and the Golden Girls would be playing, perhaps Logan would feel, deep in the back of his mind, the need to test out Wade’s flexibility as was previously offered. 

And he would think: 

Oh, fuck. 

Oh fuck .

Chapter Text

The second week that Logan had begun staying with Wade and Blind Al and the loveliest roommate of all, Mary Puppins, Wade bought an “I Heart DILFs” t-shirt. 

Because holy shit, was Logan the DILF-iest DILF to ever DILF in Wade’s presence. 

Laura, a.k.a. X-23, a.k.a. Wade’s favorite person at this very moment because she was making Logan smile, was at the apartment, talking and being grumpy with Logan as a part of their cute little hang out seshes.

And damn. What a smile. Canines that could break skin, those pearly whites that Wade remembers were once tainted with his own blood–

Alright, I think by now we all know I have a massive boner for Daddy-rine, no need to use that romantical Wattpad fanfiction language so abundantly!

(Sorry.)

I know you’re not. 

It’s weird to live with a man who is simultaneously everything Wade has ever dreamed of and is also the most unattainable being in probably the entire multiverse. 

At least for Wade. 

He’s sure Wolvie doesn’t truly hate him. He just finds Wade to be a general annoyance, same as everyone does and probably should. He’s also sure that Logan is his best friend and he is Logan’s, but he was not so sure how long this whole friendship would last. In fact, Wade feared that he was clinging onto Logan like the selfish little parasite he knew himself to be when it came to the people he…

Loves. 

Logan already expressed his intent to “find something” because “he always does” before Wade had practically rom-com called him back to stay with him in his shitty one-bedroom. Just until Logan could get back on his feet in this universe. 

Which, just as Wade feared, he was doing. Very quickly might he add!

The man already had a sketchy cab driving gig. And a daughter! A super bad-ass, scary daughter! 

Who Wade was trying very, very hard to win over. 

“Mini-rine,” Wade called as he walked into Logan and Laura hanging out in the living room, “I have something for you!” 

Laura gave Logan a quick look, as if Wade was about to hand her a live grenade. Logan shrugged, indicating he had no clue what Wade was up to, as usual. 

From behind his back, Wade whipped out a stuffed Kuromi plush he’d bought for himself years ago while he was in Japan. It was in pristine condition, as Wade had kept it on his top shelf as a beacon of hope in hard times. 

He’d seen those Hello Kitty sunglasses Laura kept with her. He knows a secret Sanrio fan when he sees one. 

Takes one to know one, as they say. 

Logan eyed the Kuromi doll wearily, obviously confused by the item’s existence. Laura’s mouth twitched like she didn’t know whether to smile or throw out a nasty teenage girl comment that would hit Wade where it hurts. 

“... For me?” Laura asked slowly. 

Wade shrugged. “I’ve had it for a while. Figured it’d be less off-putting in the hands of a teenage girl. And it’s not something I’d miss. Trying to declutter, you know?”

Wade was 100% going to miss that plush. 

But he knew how these emotionally stunted Wolverines worked. He wasn’t going to scare either of them off with his incessant need for their approval just yet. Well, he may have jumped the gun on that one with Logan in the Void and all that “educated wish” crap. 

Point is, he was pretty sure if he just gave Laura a gift just for the sake of giving her a gift, Logan would think he did something insane and was subtly asking for forgiveness. Like that time he brought home a pack of cigars after sewing a boob window into Logan’s costume. 

Laura gingerly took the doll from Wade, setting it in her lap and patting it gently. She smiled softly at the soft texture. 

“Thanks, Wade.” 

Logan cocked an eyebrow. “What is that thing?” 

“That, my uncultured little Honey Badger, is a limited edition Kuromi with interchangeable ear bows straight from the Sanrio store in Tokyo,” Wade explained as Laura fiddled with the bows that snapped on and off the doll, “And I mean seriously, you two should visit Japan sometime, because for some reason those adamantium claws always end up in that country for in practically every continuity–” 

“I’ve been to Japan for enough missions, bub,” Logan huffed, “Not sure if it’s a place I want to revisit.” 

“Maybe we don’t have to go for a mission,” Laura turned to her alternate-universe-clone-father, still stroking the plush doll, “What about… a vacation?” 

Wade clapped his hands in excitement, “Ooh, a father-daughter bonding trip to Japan where nothing would go wrong! The fans who are tired of Marvel continuously traumatizing their characters in every new comic run would absolutely eat that up!” 

Logan gave Laura a sort of “that’s a ridiculous idea” look that he probably assumed she would return, but instead Laura gave him the Wolverine equivalent of “Daddy can I please please please get a pony?” eyes. Which is to say she simply looked back at him with her typical piercing stare. 

Logan folded, as he always did when it came to Laura. 

“Maybe,” he grumbled, “... But Wade would probably have to come, I don’t know where to find that…” he vaguely gestured to the plush, “... kind of stuff.”  

Wade squealed. “A girls trip with Daddy Wolverine tagging along?! Count me in! I know what my next mercenary check is going towards!” 

“Moving out of my damn apartment I’d hope!” Blind Al called from her room. 

Wade rolled his eyes. “It’s past her snowboarding time AND her bedtime. You two cuties want me to order a pizza… or three?”

When the pizzas arrived- a meat-lovers for Logan that Wade made one too many jokes about and got clawed in the side for, a pepperoni for Laura, and a buffalo chicken for the normal-metabolism-having folk to share– Wade left the two Wolverines to talk without his endless commentary and to eat his dinner with Althea in the other room. 

“Sooo…” Laura started after finishing her first slice, “I’m guessing you won’t take the X-Men up on their offer to stay at the Mansion?” 

“... You know I can’t go back there.” 

Logan knew that she knew because they had argued within the first month of knowing each other about how Logan just couldn't be the Logan that Laura wanted him to be. Not in any capacity. That as much as he accepted he was an X-Man, and would always be one, the mental wall that stood between him and rejoining this universe’s X-Men was high and mighty.

The reason he kept in touch with Laura after encouraging her to join the X-Men was actually because of Wade. After that first initial fight, where Logan had told Laura he wasn’t her dad and could never be, and she had insisted that the other Logan had felt the same, and his feelings of inadequacy turning to the one productive emotion he ever seemed to have– anger– Wade found him drinking at a bar close by their apartment. Through his drunk haze he remembered Wade saying some cheesy shit like “he needed to be the dad that stepped up”, “the fans are tired of you being an absentee father”, and that the only way to make a distinction between him and the old Logan was to do what the old Logan couldn’t. To do what no one would expect of him– be a father. Be present. Be there, even when he didn’t want to be. 

The words stuck with him even after he passed out in Wade’s arms. When he called Laura the next day, he told her that she was more than capable of being this universe’s Wolverine. That she could be better than he was, and that Logan would always see her as the better version of him. No matter what she decided to do. Because she was his daughter. 

And he’d be here if she needed him. 

Alive. For her. 

Their relationship hasn’t been all smooth sailing since then, but they kept in touch through phone calls and random meetings here and there. She was slightly upset that Logan wouldn’t join her at the X-Mansion but she understood why. 

A week or so ago, Hank had called him. Offered him a place at the school as an instructor. 

Logan hadn’t said a word as Hank spoke. His voice was gravelly, diplomatic as always. And the moment Logan heard it, his hands were trembling. Images of blue fur matted with red blood filled his head. 

He hung up on Hank, promptly taking Mary Puppins and himself on a walk to clear his head. And smoke a couple cigars. 

He had called Laura after, chewing her out for the call that he had assumed was her idea, but relented after her insistence that it was Beast’s idea and she had just provided his number. If Logan knew anything about Beast the whole call was probably a product of curiosity and Hank was just intrigued about the whole concept of multiverse travel. A deep seated stubbornness within Logan made sure that was the only reason. 

One day he’d see this universe’s X-Men. Just not yet. 

But if they called him for help, anything larger than being a teacher, he… 

He would probably go. 

But that hasn’t happened yet, and hopefully never will, so Logan kept his distance. He wasn’t their Logan, and he couldn’t face any more people like Laura who thought he could be. 

“I don’t mean it like that,” Laura sighed, “I mean… if you ever move out of here, it’s going to be with him, isn’t it?”

Logan shot her a surprised look. “Wade?” 

Laura nodded, “You two work well together. He’s…” she looked at her new plush toy, “Fun. And different from the X-Men.” 

Logan snorted in amusement. “I think that’s an understatement.” 

Laura chewed her second slice of pizza thoughtfully. 

“I wouldn’t mind taking a vacation with you and him,” she commented, “It could be… interesting.” 

Logan hummed noncommittally. 

“You should tell him.” 

Logan’s cheeks warmed. He cursed how perceptive his daughter was, because he really didn’t want to have that conversation with her. That conversation being his reluctant attraction to his roommate and closest friend. And multiversal kidnapper, but he'd sort of forgiven Wade for that now. 

“Tell him what?” he said gruffly, trying to play dumb. 

“Tell him that if you move out you want him to come with you,” Laura shrugged, “Adjusting to a new universe takes time… and ‘baby steps’. At least that’s what Kurt said.”

Logan was glad Laura was becoming friends with Kurt, but the kid was always imparting some sort of wholesome wisdom with Laura. It was cute, but an annoyance to Logan who often heard it reiterated by Laura herself. 

“Plus…” Laura took a bite of her pizza and spoke with her mouth full, “He definitely wouldn’t mind moving in with you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Logan scoffed. 

“Dios mío, no te hagas tonto,” she muttered, rolling her eyes, “He’s head over ass in love with you. Why else do you think he gave me this thing?” she bumped her new doll with her elbow. 

“Because he didn’t want it anymore?” 

“No, because he wants me to tolerate him. Because I’m your…” 

“... Daughter.”

“Exactamente.” 

They ate in silence for a few moments.

“... He’s an idiot,” Logan professed.

“Yeah,” Laura shrugged again, “But he’s an idiot that gave me a limited edition Kuromi from Japan, so… I’d say give him a chance.” 

Logan shook his head in exasperation, but he was smiling.

“I’ll let you know if I move out.”

Laura gave him a shit-eating grin. “You’d better. But please spare me from the… intimate details.” 

Logan flicked her on the arm, and pretended like he wasn’t the happiest he’d been in a long time.

Chapter Text

Wade! Don’t do this you dumb fuck!

Light blinded Logan as the door finally caved. But it was too late. 

Blood seeped from the walls. The room was morphing in and out of existence, between the brick walls of the Mansion and the grimy walls of the underground chambers. 

He felt something touch his brain. An aggressive tapping on the place no one’s ever been. 

“I can make all those voices go away…” 

He follows her. 

He blinks, and under him are bodies. 

Upon bodies. 

Amongst all the red there is a slashed red suit that is so soaked with blood that not even its color could conceal the fate of the being underneath it. 

“Logan.”

No.

“Looogan…”

No!

“Looooogaaaan…” 

Logan heard a squelch and a soft groan near him, just over his own heavy breathing and the rush of blood in his ears. 

“Well…” Wade’s voice groggily started, “I would ask for five more minutes but I think I’m…” 

He coughs up blood and spits over his shoulder. 

“... Yeah, I’m awake, Peanut.” 

Logan’s tense expression changed in an instant and his claws retracted. Wade twitched at the loss of the claws that had been stuck between his ribs. 

“I…” Logan exhaled, “I didn’t mean…” 

His heart was jackhammering in his chest. Something between guilt and panic pooled in his stomach. 

Wade chuckled lowly, obviously still tired and recovering from being woken up so fast. He rolled his neck as the wounds began closing up underneath his suit. They were both still in their respective suits, as both men had collapsed on the couch together after a particularly tiring mission. Fun and full of adrenaline (or killing, as most people call it), but still tiring enough to knock out both of them, shoulder to shoulder. 

“Just chillax, Honey Badger. I’m fine. You on the other hand…” Wade’s gloved hand hovered over Logan’s shoulder, “You should–”

“Don’t…! Don’t touch me.” Logan hissed, his shoulder flinching away from Wade’s touch. He stood up abruptly and stalked off towards the kitchen, practically hearing Wade’s protest die in his throat. 

Quietly, because Althea was still sleeping, Logan searched the cabinets for… relief. Shame trickled into his gut along with his other raging emotions. He hadn’t felt the need to reach for a bottle in a while. He cursed under his breath once he realized they were out of anything that could be passed off as liquor. There was always the alcohol in the bathroom’s first aid kit… or the expired hot sauce in the back of the fridge. It was probably fermented enough. 

Logan sighed into his hands, leaning against the counter. He only drank occasionally now, and often with other people. Often with Wade. He didn’t know why he was fucking up now…

And there was blood on his knuckles.

Mindlessly, Logan drifted towards the sink. 

He tensed even further as the sound of the water falling from the faucet mixed with the squeak of Wade’s ugly ass crocs approaching the kitchen. 

Logan scowled as he dried off his hands with a dish towel and turned to see Wade leaning against the counter opposite to him, arms crossed and a weirdly unreadable expression on his face. 

The sound of far-off sirens and soft city murmurs wafted through the small kitchen and between the two men. 

“Are you alright, Wolvie?” 

Logan’s scowl deepened. 

“I stabbed you. Why the fuck are you asking if I’m alright?”

Wade gave him a flat look. Logan didn’t like this. Not a single stupid joke, not an inappropriate quip to rile him up, not even an empty insult left Wade’s mouth. It was frankly freaking Logan the fuck out. 

“We all get nightmares once and a while, it nothing to be embarrassed about–” 

“We all don’t stab people in our fuckin’ sleep, dick for brains. Leave me the fuck alone,” Logan growled. 

Wade pursed his lips, the edges quirking up like he wanted to smile. 

“I don’t mind a special stabbing feature on my personal alarm clock,” he said lightly, “And I certainly don’t care about a little blood on the couch, it’s not like Blind Al will notice. So why are you making this a big deal, Honey Badger?”

“Oh, I’m making this a big deal?!” Logan scoffed, “You’re the one still fucking talking about it–”

“You can’t hurt me, Logan. And you don’t scare me.”

Logan snorted. It was a pitiful sound.

“I can hurt you, you fucking idiot. I can kill you. I will kill you, just like everyone else I’ve ever–”

He didn't dare finish that sentence.

“Then do it,” Wade challenged, suddenly face to face with Logan, their chests almost pressed together, “Put your little kitty claws in me again.” 

Logan paused for two reasons. One being shock, and the other being that he was waiting for Wade to finish that freaky little innuendo. 

“I–” 

“What? You’re saying you don’t want to? I know it takes effort to hold them back. And you’ve done it a million times before. Go on. I dare you.” 

Logan sized Wade up to try and intimidate him and get him to go away. He growled animalistically, because he was trapped by his stupid roommate who never knew when to quit or give up, especially when it came to Logan. He shoved him but Wade stood his ground, his weird supernatural not-always-there strength holding the shorter adamantium infused man in position, which should’ve been impossible. Logan opened his mouth to try to argue and–

“Just let go, Logan.”

Almost involuntarily, he did. The soft snickt of his own claws sliding out of his knuckles almost startled him, and the warm feeling of flesh surrounding the metal-coated bone quickly made Logan’s shoulders relax. 

Wade didn’t even give Logan the satisfaction of gasping at the six knives penetrating his lower abdomen. He just lazily smiled, like he was drunk on the pain. The sicko. 

Logan lost himself in Wade’s soft gaze, and he didn’t notice the other man leaning forward, or his arms wrapping around Logan’s shoulders. 

“It’s not your fault,” Wade mumbled by Logan’s ear, “And you can’t kill me, remember? The punchline to God’s best joke? You’re stuck with me. You can’t even hurt me. Sorry, buddy.”

Logan, very slowly, rested his head on Wade’s shoulder. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry too.” 

That’s when Wade decided to get his sunny disposition back. He pulled away, springing back up with Logan’s claws still embedded in his midsection. 

“Don’t you worry, snookums. You should've known by now I love getting penetrated-” 

Ah. There it was. 

Logan ripped his claws out of Wade, leaving the man to stumble and yelp in pain. 

It gave Logan enough time to shake his head and smile without the other man seeing. He sauntered back to the couch, leaving enough space for Wade to come back and reclaim his position as Logan’s personal pillow. 

For the first time in his shitty, long life, as his eyes drooped, and a familiar shadow loomed over his relaxed form, Logan anticipated waking up next to someone he couldn’t hurt. 

And he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Wade was wearing his mask when Logan woke up. He was flitting around the kitchen in gray sweats, a loose white shirt marked with what Logan could only hope were oil stains, crocs, and that godforsaken black and red mask. 

He looked ridiculous. 

“Rise and shine, Peanut! I made breakfast!” 

“I’m up,” Logan grumbled, throwing a quick prayer to any god that would listen that Wade made pancakes. Not because Logan particularly liked pancakes, it just so happened that pancakes were one of exactly five foods Wade could make without almost burning down the kitchen. 

“Yes, but you’re not shining!” Wade called. 

Wade could only make pancakes (typically with chocolate chips or blueberries, Wade found plain pancakes boring), peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, grilled cheese sandwiches, ramen, and for some insane fucking reason, chimichangas. From scratch. Which, in Logan’s brain, should be impossible, because whenever Wade tried to make something that could be considered an ingredient to chimichangas– beans, rice, meat– he’d fuck it up. The only times he didn’t fuck up those things is when the end result was supposed to be a goddamn chimichanga. Logan was pretty sure he’d end up in an asylum if he thought about that for longer than a minute. 

Logan stalked off to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

When he swung the door open and stepped in, he was greeted with a sharp pain in his foot. 

“What the fuck–”

The mirror was shattered, the glass shards littering the bathroom floor. Logan scowled, seeing his angry expression out of the corner of his eye, multiplied by the broken corner pieces of the mirror that were still miraculously attached to the frame. 

“Wilson! What the hell happened to the fucking bathroom?!”

Logan heard a yelped, “Oh shit, not the last name!” from the kitchen before Wade’s mask popped into the frame of the bathroom door. 

“You should watch where you step, Sugar-tits.”

Logan snarled at him. “Don’t fucking pin this on me, shithead. What the hell possessed you to break the mirror?! What if Althea walked in here?! Or the fucking dog?!” 

“Aww, I knew you cared about our beloved child!” Wade cooed, “But for your information, that thing threw the first punch. And Blind Al never wakes up before noon anyway. I was going to clean it up before then, scout’s honor!” 

He saluted sincerely. 

Logan frowned. 

“... The mirror started it?” he grumbled, exasperated. 

Wade nodded sagely. “She should’ve watched her fucking mouth,” he shrugged, “It was for the best. May she rest in pieces.” 

“... Wow. Even for you, that was bad.”

“Just go eat your pancakes while I fix this up, Honey Badger. I added blueberries so you can get some antioxidants! You’re gonna thank me for that, you need it in your old age.” 

Logan shoulder checked him on his way towards the kitchen. Couldn’t even brush his fucking teeth these days without having to deal with Wade’s shit.

As the day progressed, Logan felt like maybe he should’ve asked more questions about the mirror thing in the morning. 

They had no missions that he was aware of, yet Wade was sulking around the apartment in his full Deadpool get-up, covered from head to toe in red and black fabric. 

He even had his boots on. Not the ugly ass crocs.  

He always wore his crocs. 

“Got a job I don’t know about?” Logan asked from his spot on the couch. Wade was on the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce and paying weirdly close attention to an episode of ‘The Golden Girls’, one which Logan was one-hundred percent sure the man had already seen. Multiple times. 

“Hmm?” Wade hummed, not even turning to face his roommate. 

“I said, why the fuck are you wearing your suit if you haven’t left the house all day? Got a mission that I’m not invited to or something?”

Wade just sighed. Just sighed and didn’t answer . 

Typically, Logan wasn’t the type to push. But Wade wasn’t typically silent. Not like this.

It really freaked Logan out. Any time Wade was silent it freaked him out. He’d long ago admitted to himself that he liked having Wade’s voice overlap the ones in his head. No matter how annoying the talking could get, it was a comfort to Logan now and being without it was like quitting drinking or smoking, cold turkey. It made him uncomfortable. It made him angry. 

It made him feel… wrong. 

“... Did I do something wrong?” Logan asked suddenly, not really thinking about what came out of his mouth.

Wade peered over his shoulder, slowly looking back at Logan. 

“No,” he answered, turning back to the television. 

Logan scowled. 

“No? Then why are you…” 

Not talking to me? 

Acting like this? 

Wearing that suit around our home? 

Logan took a deep breath.

“Bub, you’re not even petting the dog. What’s with you today? You break the bathroom mirror, sit around in that suit and mask for no reason other than to make it stink more than it already does, and now you don’t want to fucking bother telling me why?”

Mary hopped up on the couch, settling next to Logan from her spot next to Wade where she would usually get scratches, like he was taking the older man’s side. 

Wade stood up abruptly. He turned to face Logan and cocked his head to the side. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me, Peanut. I think I’m going to go run a couple errands. Ciao!” 

Wade rushed to the bedroom instead of the entrance to the apartment and practically slammed the door, leaving Logan stunned and aggravated. He scoffed in anger, settling further into the couch as a product of his grumpiness. Mary laid a paw on his thigh, and he rolled his eyes before patting her lightly on the head. 

Crash!

Startled, Logan jumped up from the couch and ran towards the noise that came from the bedroom. Althea was sitting there when he barged in, undisturbed on the bed with an audiobook playing quietly from a CD player on the nightstand. 

But the window was open. 

It was unbroken, but the fire escape was still rattling when he looked down to see a shiny smear of blood on the black, grimy surface. 

“That dumbass,” Althea sighed, “Always jumping off roofs, running in front of buses, exploding himself. I really do wish God had made me deaf. I’m sick of hearing his bones snap in new ways every other week.” 

She didn’t say it in a particularly mean way. Almost like… she was resigned to whatever Wade did to himself. 

“Why the fuck would he jump out of the window?!” Logan snarled, pushing his head back inside the bedroom. 

“It’s just one of those days,” she huffed, “Hasn’t had a bad one since you moved in, but I guess the streak ended tonight.” 

“What do ya mean?” Logan asked, subtly sniffing as Wade’s scent began moving further and further away from the apartment. 

“That motherfucker kills himself in new ways whenever he feels a little down. Don’t ask me what’s wrong with him today, he wouldn’t tell me even if I dangled a bag of white ‘Girl, Interrupted’ in his face. I’m just pissed he didn’t warn me this time,” Althea’s frown deepened, “Usually he at least says bye.” 

Logan cursed. Mary Puppins trotted in the room and moved to bump Logan’s ankles with her wrinkly head.

Like she was pushing Logan towards the window. 

“I was hoping you two homos would’ve figured it out by now and he’d get over himself.” 

Logan whipped his head towards the woman. “What the hell did you call me?” 

Althea rolled her unseeing eyes, making it obvious even under her sunglasses. “I’ve bumped cooches with enough women–” Logan really didn’t need that image in his head, “–to use that word, you fuckin’ prude. I’m just saying, I’m sick of the two of you acting like Jack and Rose in the first act. Fuck and get it over with. Preferably away from my ears and my apartment. Do it in a car like in the movie for all I care. His self-hatred and your feelings of inadequacy are pissing me off.”

Okay. 

Wow. 

“... Um… I…” Logan said dumbly. 

“Get him out of this apartment, Logan. Move down the hall for all I care. Mr. Bartleby just kicked the bucket. Figure something out.” 

Logan slowly nodded, and then realized she couldn’t see his gesture. 

“... I’ll try.” 

“Good. Now, close the window for me and go fetch that dramatic idiot before he blows up another warehouse.”

What?

Logan follows Wade’s blood down a few streets, and when that inevitably ends, he uses his nose. He finds him lying in the middle of a fenced off area, the concrete uneven and torn, with metal sticking out of the ground at random. There obviously used to be rubble in the area, just based on the amount of dust, and there were scorch marks littering the ground. Logan could tell the building that had once occupied the space had burned down. 

Ignoring the danger signs on the barbed fence, he clambered over it, nicking himself a little on the wire. He slowly approached the sliver of red fabric he could see from afar. He could hear Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” filter out of Wade’s cassette player, which was tucked under the man’s arm.

Wade was mumbling to himself, lying with his arms behind his head and staring into the sky. Relaxing on a slab of concrete. 

But there was a splatter of blood by his head and a bullet hole in his mask between his eyes. 

Logan sat down next to him. 

“And– shut up– yes I know, ugh– I didn’t do the dishes! Right, I– Oh, trust me honey, I know– Uglier than two month old roadkill, what’s new– stupid glazed honey-bun abs– I’ll stick my head in the stove next– well I know I could never be that good of a poet– shut up– haha!” 

“... What is going on in your head, Wade?” 

That got the younger man to stop his muttering.

“... A lot I guess.” 

“Talkin’ to yourself?” 

Wade sniffed noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess. I know the movie version of me isn’t one for the multiple voice boxes thing, I guess it’s not as entertaining to watch a crazy person as it is to watch a funny person. I try to stick to one train of thought for the viewer’s pleasure. Can’t get them to shut up today though.” 

“What are they saying?” Logan asked. He had caught Wade talking to himself before, but he thought it was just because the man couldn’t handle silence. Guess not.

“They say a lot,” Wade shrugged, reaching down to fiddle with a semi-automatic pistol from his holster, “Most of it super funny, and only able to be interpreted in comic format. Then there are the others, my personal Regina Georges, who need to leave me the fuck alone.”

He pulled the pistol out of the holster and held it under his chin. 

“Give me the gun,” Logan sighed, reaching his hand out like an exasperated father who just found out their kleptomaniac child had stolen candy from the corner store. 

“Why? Trying to spoil my night? A guy can’t just kill himself over and over until he feels better? You’re the worst, truly.” 

Logan scoffed, “I believe it was you who called me the ‘Best Wolverine’, actually. The gun.” 

Wade groaned. “Will you at least stab me with your kitty claws?” 

“Maybe later. If you’re good.” 

The younger man gasped in delight. “A joke? From my Wolvie? Maybe I shouldn’t have given up on today!” 

“Wade. The gun.” 

Wade tossed it at him. Logan set it down next to him, on the side away from his friend. 

Logan just wanted to rip the bandaid off as fast as possible. So he did. 

“I think we should move out.” 

Wade’s entire body stilled. 

“Oh.” 

Logan turned to him. It’s now or never. “What do you think? I haven’t really looked anywhere but–” 

“... Great idea, Logan. You’re really finding your way in this timeline, aren’tcha? I’m happy for you. I really am!” Wade exclaimed, a manic laugh bubbling in his throat, “Hell, I’ll help you move out, I can even get you those weirdly durable Ikea bags, and you can pretend you’re moving into a shitty dorm. Maybe we’ll even get you a lofted bed! The real college experience. Of course, you’ll be attending community, you’re a little old and too sensible for university–” 

Logan interrupted him, “So is that… a yes?” 

“What, are you asking for my permission?” He laughed, but it was bitter and hollow, “You’re a grown man, Logie, I totally get it if you want to move out. I mean, living with an angel of a blind coke addict, a goddess among all dogs, and a cancer cell that looks like a ballsack is no easy task. I would know. I get it. Totally.” 

“I thought Mary would move in with us.” 

“Oh god, listen, I can deal with you breaking my heart but taking custody of my beautiful baby girl?! I– Wait. Us?!”

Logan blinked. 

Wade shook his head and chuckled, “No, no, I must still have brain matter in my ears. I will help you move out and I will be totally fine without my Peanut but seriously you cannot take my precious angel baby–” 

“Wade. Stop being a prick. Move in with me. Yes or no.” 

“... Did Al put you up to this? Listen, I didn’t even break the window this time–” 

“Have you ever considered,” Logan raised his voice, “That maybe I just want to be your roommate? I love Al, but she wants privacy. And I can’t…” he took a deep breath, “I can’t leave without you.” 

The white eyes of Wade’s mask narrowed. He scoffed and stood up, shaking his head. 

“What, so I’m just supposed to believe you want to live with–” he makes a large gesture around his head, “– This?! Just because you’re in a joking mood tonight doesn’t mean–” 

“Why is that so hard to believe?!” Logan practically shouted. 

“Because no one wants this!” Wade yelled, gesturing at himself again, “For fucks sake, my own fiancee needed a few shots to even get with me on a good night, and you expect me to believe that The-Freaking-Wolverine actually wants to breathe the same air as me?! I’ll believe that kind of shit when pigs fly, or shit, when Cherik becomes canon, or–”

“Take off your mask, Wade.” 

“–When Paul Rudd ages. I can’t even stand my own reflection! I’m so proud of you for pulling my leg like this but seriously, Wolvie, leave the jokes to me, cuz–” 

“Wade, take off your mask–” 

“–You’re terrible at them, I mean, truly terrible–” 

“For fucks sake, I said take it off!” Logan stood up and stood chest to chest with Wade. His roommate. His stupid, idiotic roommate who never shut up. 

Who never gave up on him.

“I can’t,” Wade pleaded with Logan, “I don’t want to be like this.” 

“Too bad,” Logan said, “You are. Not much of a choice about who we get to be. But a while ago, I told you that you didn’t want this ,” he pointed a thumb at his chest, jabbing it into the muscle covering his heart, “But you didn’t give yourself a choice. You gave me a chance instead. Now, I’m asking. Do you want this?” 

“What?”

“Do you want this?”

“I–”

“If you do, you’ll take off that mask.”

Wade stilled. Slowly, his gloved hands came up to the back of his mask. As he peeled the fabric away, he kept his eyes from Logan’s. 

“... More than anything,” Wade breathed, “I want y–”

Logan surged forward and pressed his lips against his roommate’s lips.

Dolly Parton crooned the chorus of “I Will Always Love You” softly as Wade melted into Logan’s touch. 

When they pulled away from each other, Wade stepped back. It took him a minute to reboot before– 

“But I’m–!” 

“... Bald?” 

“And you’re–!”

“... Hairy?”

“Okay, enough with the jokes from you tonight, mister!” Wade huffed, “That’s supposed to be my thing!” 

“... Sorry,” Logan shrugged, smiling sheepishly, “So… is that a yes on the moving out together thing?” 

“I just,” Wade opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly, like a fish, “I just…! I just don’t get it!”

“You make me…” Logan exhaled through his nose, “You make me feel… okay. Like I can matter. To the timeline, to Laura, to… to you. I don’t think I can make it here without you. And we both make too much money to live in that little apartment and to keep annoying Althea.”

“Peanut… I… can I promote you to honey, no badger? Because I… Marvel H. Christ, you make me feel like I matter. And I just… if you left me I’d understand but I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Like, physically. Like maybe I’d finally die but not even in a fun satisfying way. I need you. You’re part of my world now, no ‘Little Mermaid’ reference intended. And Al’s been begging me to move out forever. So, yes! One-hundred percent super duper marvelous cinematic yes! Oh, I’m going to order Mary Puppins a bigger bed right this instant–” 

Logan smiled softly as his… the person that made him matter rambled on and on about apartment decor and how he couldn’t believe that “the author” would get Wolverine to kiss him and–

“–And oh my gosh isn’t it super romantic that our first kiss was where I was tortured and forcibly mutated into a giant tumor? Ugh, the retelling of my traumatic backstory is going to be so fucking awesome now! Suck it, Francis, I kissed The Wolverine!” Wade yelled to the sky. 

… What?

Chapter Text

They take Mr. Bartleby’s apartment.

It was also a one bedroom apartment, similar to the one they shared with Al but with a larger living room and smaller kitchen.

Moving wasn’t a huge problem for two guys with super strength. And Wade was really good at finding roadside furniture and patching it up. Like weirdly good. Sometimes Logan wondered if it was part of his mutation. 

Speaking of mutations, Logan didn’t fully understand Wade’s powers. So he asked. 

In his own, mildly crude way. 

It was a quiet night, their third official night in the apartment, and both men were asleep on the couch. They had a mattress, a big king-sized one that Wade had jumped for joy for when he found it outside of some dump, but no bed frame and the bleach Wade had doused it in wasn’t dry yet. And while both men would technically have no problems sleeping on a mattress on the floor and inhaling bleach, it was the other thing that was holding them back too. 

Sharing a bed. As… whatever they were. 

Wade gave Logan little pecks on the cheeks and forehead often. Sometimes he’d give him a dramatic smooch if he was really giddy about something. But Logan was tactical. A deeper kiss when he wanted to feel close. Hands on hips moving past each other. Hands on shoulders when he just needed to be touching someone. 

They were taking it slow. Which for both men was something strangely new. Something… that felt oddly normal. Perhaps that's what the existential dread of living forever did to a man. 

Logan was typically the one to have terrible nightmares. And he’d usually wake up, claws out, sometimes nicking either the couch or Wade and craving a drink. 

But tonight, Logan was awoken not by his own mind, rather by the sound of somebody absolutely throwing their guts up. 

Graphically. 

Enhanced hearing and smell should never be considered a superpower. It was definitely a super-curse. 

Scrunching up his nose and decidedly breathing through his mouth, Logan groggily stumbled to the source of the noise. 

He found Wade, pale, sweaty, shirtless, and clinging onto the toilet hard enough that Logan thought he could probably rip it out of the tiled floor if he tried. 

“Oh, hey, Peanut… just thought I’d christen our–” 

He leaned over again and let another round out. 

After a moment of catching his breath, Wade spit into the toilet bowl and leaned back. 

“‘M sorry if I woke you up,” Wade mumbled. 

“‘S fine…” Logan replied, brows furrowed at the sight of red lining the corners of Wade’s lips, “Are you… sick or something? Can you… get sick?” 

Wade let out a low chuckle. It was a miserable sound. 

“That’s my secret, Cap. I’m always sick,” He snorted at his own nonsensical joke, and Logan’s brows only furrowed further, “Can you get sick?” Wade asked Logan back. 

“No,” he answered curtly. 

Wade rolled his eyes. “Figures.” 

Logan crouched down to touch his… whatever they were. But as his palm came close to Wade’s shoulder, he cursed. 

“Fuck, you’re burning up. I can feel it without even touching you.” 

Wade whined, “But it’s fucking freezing!”

“Then why are you shirtless?” 

Wade leaned his head on the side of the bathtub, closing his eyes for a moment like he was going to fall asleep there. “‘Cuz it’s also really fucking hot. I’m like Katy Perry. Hot ‘N’ Cold, plastic bag drifting through the wind, the whole shebang.” 

Logan huffed. 

“Why is this happening? It’s not like I got you sick. And you’re coughing up blood. Can you heal from tuberculosis or whatever?” 

Wade giggled. “Cute… you think it’s tuberculosis. You’re so old school, Dr. Wolverine. So 1800s-core. ‘Mother, I’ve caught the red–!’ ” 

Wade started coughing. Blood splattered on the crook of his elbow. 

Logan rushed to grab a cup of water from the kitchen. 

When he made it back to the bathroom, Wade was gone. Logan heard rustling from the bedroom. With a sigh, he moved towards the noise.

Logan caught Wade in the act of trying to put his mask on. 

“Take that shit off,” he barked, thrusting the cup of water at him, “Drink. Then explain what the hell’s wrong with you.” 

Wade frowned, letting the mask drop to the floor reluctantly. He took the water, eyeing Logan like he either poisoned the water or like Wade hoped he did. After taking a small sip, the taller man moved back towards the bare mattress on the floor, plopping down as he set the water on the floor. 

“Just… I’ll stay here for a bit. I know I smell absolutely vile, ha, and it’ll probably last for a couple more hours.” 

“ What will last for a couple more hours, Wade?” 

Wade waved him off, laying down. “Just… had a bad night, is all. My body is being a little naughty, and as much as I want to ask you to punish me–” 

“Stop fucking around,” Logan growled, “You have a healing factor. You being sick should be impossible.”

“Undying factor, I believe the nerds are calling it these days. I’m just… I had a bit of a brain fuck from the past and I guess my body’s not catching up to the present. Nothing to worry about, Peanut.” 

“... Undying factor?” 

“Ugh,” Wade groaned for dramatic effect, “I forget you’re just a comic-inept himbo sometimes. And that’s okay! I love you for it, pookie bear. Look, you know how your mutation always brings you up to peak physical health? Yeah, mine doesn’t do that. It just replaces my dead cells with more dying cells! Cancerous cells. Hell, in a few years, or maybe already, I’ll be all tumor. Just one giant cancer cell.”

Logan didn’t think Wade was being literal when he would call himself a walking cancer cell. He thought he was referring to being annoying or hard to get rid of. He expressed this to Wade.

“Ha! Aw, Wolvie, you think I’d make a joke out of cancer? I can’t believe you think so low of me. Well, actually I do. But yeah, I’m pretty much just… cancer. That’s my power. Super cancer. Call Gerard Way, I’m sure he’d love to make a song about me. Or a comic. Well, maybe he’s too edgy for how fun and whimsical I am.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan crossed his arms, “How could you have gotten cancer in the first place if you have an… ‘undying’ factor?” 

Wade took a deep breath. It rattled like death itself. 

“Backstory time, Peanut. Come sit by the fire. Spoiler: The cancer came before the mutation. I wasn’t born like this. I used to be super normal. Super human. Well– you know what I mean.” 

“You’re not a mutant?” Logan asked, honestly surprised. 

“I believe the politically correct term is mutate. Born normal-ish, got diagnosed with cancer, blah blah blah, made some stupid decisions, some bag of dicks named Francis tortured me and forced me to mutate, some of your DNA may or may have not been involved depending on the continuity, and boom! I’m effectively immortal and in excruciating pain every day! Love my life,” Wade pumped a fist into the air weakly. 

Logan let that process in his head. It made sense. Wade smelled like a corpse covered in Old Spice most days. While he’d thought that his skin texture was just something he was born with, it did look… unhealthy.  

“... You’re in pain?” 

Wade scoffed, “Don’t act surprised. It hurts every time you use your mutation, too. Growing an excess of cells constantly is like being perpetually stuck in the growing pains of puberty with a little cancer on top. It's not too bad though, I forget about it when I’m awake… or excited,” he wiggles his (lack of) eyebrows, then sighs and closes his eyes sleepily, “My brain caught me off guard tonight. After a small round of jaundice and some Adventure Time T.L.C. I’ll get up and make you some pancakes, how ‘bout that, Peanut?” 

Logan shifted uncomfortably. “‘S there anything I can… get you? Medicine?”

Wade lazily lifted his eyelids, smiling softly. 

“Cute you think that’d work. I’m fine, Honey-No-Badger. Go back to sleep.”

About 20 minutes later, Logan was laying on the couch, unable to wipe the scowl off his face. The time on the microwave read 3:07am. He was restless. And cold. Missing the weight that usually laid across his chest. 

Fuck this , he thought. If he couldn’t sleep, he was going to be productive. And check on Wade. 

As quietly as a three-hundred pound hunk of muscle and metal could, Logan peeked through the crack of the bedroom door. 

And Christ, Wade wasn’t kidding about the jaundice. The yellowish hue of this mottled skin against the flickering light of the laptop he’d set up next to the bed to watch that ridiculous children’s show made Logan scowl harder. He felt useless. Watching his… whatever they were… shivering and slick with sweat, obviously dying but also not. It was hard. It was… something he’d never have to feel before. 

Logan’s watched many people die. From sickness. By his own hand. But watching someone die all the time, but never actually leave? That was something he’d never experienced before, not in 200 years of living. As much as it sparked a weird sort of sympathy, it also sparked a curiosity Logan hadn’t felt for a long time. 

For the first time, he realized he wanted to make this work . Because finally, here was someone who couldn’t die with Logan. Logan couldn’t hurt Wade, and he certainly couldn’t kill him. And vice versa. And technically, this… whatever they had… could last forever. And while the thought of that was terrifying, and probably horrific in the long run, after 200 years of not having any option but to watch the people he loved die… this was… nice.

Despite the warmth of knowing Wade would be okay forever , Logan still didn’t like seeing him in pain. Unless it was by his hand. Fighting, rolling around like animals and sinking his claws into the younger man’s flesh was fun. Exhilarating even. This cancer shit was just depressing. 

Lost in his head, Logan pittered around the apartment, looking through half unpacked boxes. He found what must’ve been around 10 pounds worth of blankets and brought them to the bedroom. 

Wade was obviously unconscious but still restless. Logan carefully draped a few blankets over his… fuck it, his partner, as the colorful looking figures on the laptop screen crooned some calming tune that almost sounded like a lullaby to Logan’s tired ears. 

Careful not to jostle the sleeping figure next to him, Logan laid on the mattress next to Wade. After a few minutes, his eyelids began to feel heavy. He felt a shift next to him, and a too cold, too hot hand landed on his abdomen. 

“... Thanks, Peanut,” Wade mumbled. 

“For what?” 

“Being here. With me. And finding the blankets.”

Logan closed his eyes. “No problem, bub.” 

“... and for being super hot.” 

“Good night, Wade.” 

“G’night…” the younger man snuggled into Logan’s torso, and probably without thinking, sleepily mumbled, “... love you…” 

Logan’s heart stilled as Wade’s breaths evened out. 

The sound of far-off sirens and soft city murmurs filtered into their new bedroom. Logan let out a long sigh. Reaching an arm lazily over Wade’s body to complete their embrace, he whispered against his partner’s shoulder. 

“Love you too.”