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One of these days, Logan might finally come to understand what he was doing here and why he could not seem to shake Wade Wilson, but so far, today was not shaping up to be that day. It was a beautiful day, to be sure, bright and sunny with a nice breeze, but the small pleasure of taking a walk in the glorious weather was no match for Wade's annoying presence. They'd only walked three blocks, turning on Daniel Way to go east along Kelly, yet Logan had already imagined at least fourteen horrible ways for Wade to die.
"Let go," Logan said, but Wade kept squeezing his hand as they made their way down the street. Their arms were actually swinging between them. "I'm warning you—"
"Warn away, my stature-challenged hirsute little lovebug! I don't hear negativity, only—oh, goodie, we're here!" Wade came to a halt so suddenly that Logan stumbled a little. "Watch it, sweetums, that's called a curb."
"Where's here?"
"Well, you know, that is quite the metaphysical head-scratcher, I'll give you that, but let's hurry up inside and—" Wade slapped Logan's ass. "— lordy-lou, that's pert! You really can bounce a loonie off that, can't you? Maybe even a toonie!"
Logan glared at him. "Answer the question, bub."
"Fine. Grumpy-grumpy." Wade turned and, spreading his arms, indicated the small storefront before them. On the wide window there was a large coffee mug painted. He raised his voice. "Welcome to X-Cafe, the—"
"No," Logan said.
Undeterred, Wade said, "The Perc With a Pout? See, that's a 'percolator' reference, something you, with your advanced age, should appreciate. How's 'The Perc With the Pour-Over' sound?"
"No."
"Caffeinating Factor?"
"No."
Wade slumped against the window. "Well, what do you want to call the city's first, only, and very finest coffee shop run by Homo superior?"
Logan scratched one sideburn, then the other. Occasionally, the scritch-scritch noise served to calm Wilson down and get him to focus, but he had no such luck this time.
"Not calling it anything because it ain't happening."
"Aww!"
Logan leaned in and jabbed one adamantium-sharp knuckle claw into Wade's chest. "Besides which, you're not a mutant. No H. superior you."
Wade's lower lip trembled. "Am so."
"No," Logan said. "You're not. Don't know what you are, but—"
"You're being very hurtful right now." Wade grabbed Logan's hand again and dragged him into the shop. "I'm going to let it slide, though. Just take a look around and tell me this isn't the best idea I've had since breakfast!"
Given that breakfast had been a mickey of whiskey (for Logan) and three extra-long lines of coke, plus two heaping bowls of Frosted Choco-Cherry Bombs (for Wade) before Vanessa ordered them two super migas for delivery, that was not exactly a meaningful category.
The space inside—through which Wade was currently pirouetting —was nice enough: two Italian espresso machines atop a narrow wood counter that abutted a glass display case and room for five, maybe seven, small tables. Good light from the front window and wide hardwood floors. Foot traffic was probably excellent, especially around rush hour, given that the transit stop at the end of the block.
"What do you think? Be honest! But not too honest. Medium-honest. Do a compliment sandwich, but make sure it's a triple-decker, I'm very sensitive—but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Wade said, holding aside the bead curtain to the tiny back room. "Look, it's already got a microwave and sink, that's half the battle!"
"It's clean, I'll give it that," Logan replied and forbore asking just what battle was half-won with standard kitchen equipment.
He backed out into the front room again and, for lack of any seating, pulled himself up onto the counter.
Wade followed, as always a little too closely for comfort. "What is it, boo? You've got your thinky-frowny face on, which is better than your frowny-frowny face, not to mention your gnashy-frowny face, but it's still cause for concern." He put both hands on Logan's knee and leaned in. "Talk to me, Lolo."
"Don't call me—"
"Is it the working together you're worried about? The effect it could have on our intimacy and self-actualization as a unit? Believe me, lots of power couples make it work. Juan and Evita. Tom and Nicole. Ellen and Portia. David and Posh. John and Yoko, sorta. Elton John and his delicious Canadian squeeze."
"Furnish."
"Yes, yes, we'll get to your interior decorating ideas in a sec."
"David Furnish," Logan said through gritted teeth, "is Elton John's husband."
Wade patted his cheek. "You are so cute, you know that? I could just eat you up! Which brings me, of course, to the menu." From somewhere that Logan did not, particularly, want to ponder, Wade pulled out a piece of legal paper. With a great flourish, he shook it out and started to read. "Nanaimo bars, natch. Maple lattes. Saskatoon berry tarts. Laurentian Shield panini (because they're so flat, get it?). Winnipeg Special bikkies. Beaver tails—I thought we could call 'em Wolvie tails, just a lil bit of fun, what do you think?"
"No," Logan said, and slid off the counter, landing with a thump that made Wilson grimace. "This isn't happening. This was never going to happen." He paused, a thought belatedly catching up to him and penetrating through the inescapable haze of irritation he felt in Wilson's presence. "What the hell is a Winnipeg Special?"
Wade clapped delightedly. "I thought you'd never ask!"
*
To be completely honest, there is no such thing as a Winnipeg Special — at least, there wasn't until Gulo's Coffee opened. After much experimentation, spilled sugar, and stolen smooches, Yukio and Neg managed to create a shortbread-maple-custard bar to embody the Winnipeg Special. That winter, they also craft the Lac La Biche biscuit (chocolate graham with matcha icing) as well as the Dildo-Don't-Laugh, matcha crisp with chocolate icing. Come summer, there is the Oil Sands Slick, a frozen hot chocolate-espresso granita concoction that makes Wade and Yukio giggle twenty percent more than usual.
Logan keeps to himself behind the espresso machines, while Wade and the girls work the till and take orders. Laura works in the back, making sandwiches.
It's a living. It isn't any kind of living Logan ever thought he'd have, but it's better than a lot of the other possibilities Wade has told him about.
Not that he wouldn't love to wear an eye patch and fleece high rollers.
But this'll do for now.