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Despite Wade’s constant nagging and ineffective puppy eyes, Logan didn’t join him on his mission.
Having three people and half a dog in the same apartment, there were a lot of expenses to cover. So, Wade took on the role of breadwinner for the household and got back into the mercenary business. It was dirty work, but Althea was refusing to get a job, Logan was having trouble finding one in the first place, and Mary Puppins didn’t do more than shit on the carpet and whine for treats. Besides, Logan didn’t mind what Wade was doing, and Althea couldn’t care less. The only people who would’ve cared were the folks over at Xavier’s Institute, but it’s not like Logan and Wade were X-Men. They were more like glorified tourists.
And, this time, Wade promised not to fly to the other side of the world just for a mission. Logan recounts when Wade told them about his trip to Japan―Christ, Japan? Just for some cash? It better have been a good fuckin’ payday. If it were up to Logan, he wouldn’t be asked.
But―it’s not like Logan cared. If Wade wanted to skip town to East Asia, he could do whatever he pleased. Logan didn’t care what Wade wanted to do with his life. He didn’t. (Or is he just telling himself that?)
Wade would often ask Logan to tag along on some missions, especially if they seemed like a hefty job. In rare cases, Logan went, if he was in the mood, but oftentimes he sulked back and stayed home, spending his day in front of the television, cracking down on packs of whiskey. He didn’t mind Wade being in the merc business, but Logan―he couldn’t do it. At least, not now. The killing would just take him back to a place he’s actively trying to avoid.
Logan had been trying to hammer it into his thick adamantium skull that he was living a far different life now. Wade had plucked him fresh out of his miserable existence and gave him a second chance at actually living life, instead of just being alive, when he often didn’t want to be.
He just―he needed a second. Or maybe a little longer than a second. Logan felt lost.
To not feel like a complete piece of shit burden, Logan did his best to make himself useful around the house. It didn’t come as a surprise that more than two hundred years of living made Logan quite a skilled housekeeper. He cooked food for the four of them when they had groceries, he did the dishes often, he cleaned around the house, and he always ended up being the one to do the laundry. Logan’s clothes? Not so bad. He wasn’t very active in them, anyway. Althea’s? Not bad, either, but he has to clean off the traces of cocaine on them from time to time. But Wade’s? His everyday clothes were fine, but Logan had to resist the urge to vomit whenever he had to clean Wade’s Deadpool suit. It was almost always drenched with blood, grime, and various other substances Logan didn’t even want to identify. Plus, nothing beats having random pieces of limbs―presumably ones that Wade’s lost in battle―tumble out of the suit during the wash cycle.
The point being―Logan keeps himself busy, even if he is rotting away at home.
Logan had just finished sweeping the floors when he drops like a dead man onto the couch, legs crossing over each other as he relaxes into the recliner, making a noise best described as a grouchy old man grunt. He takes a swig of the whiskey on the coffee table as he turns on the television, flipping through the channels until he finds something that can occupy him for the next couple of hours, before Wade inevitably welcomes his loud annoying ass back into the apartment and talks Logan’s ears off. Usually, Logan likes watching The Bachelorette . He tells Wade he just “tolerates it,” but Logan secretly enjoys it. The drama is entertaining.
However, his peace is short-lived when he hears a knocking on the door. Logan looks toward the door, confused. Althea was asleep. Wade said he wouldn’t be back until sometime past midnight. Logan looks at the clock on the wall―9:22 PM.
It was probably some guy giving out brochures and telling him to repent, or something. Logan groans as he pushes himself off the recliner, sauntering over to the door. When he hears another set of knocks, Logan calls out a lethargic: “Calm down. I’m coming.” He makes his way to the door, and before opening it, Logan lets his claws slide out of his knuckles. Just in case Wade got enemies hot on his tail again, and Logan was left to deal with them.
Logan pulls open the door, a little cautiously. There were no salesmen or armed freaks. Just one Laura.
Logan retracts his claws, confusion written on his face. “Hey, kid, it’s 9 fucking PM. What are you doing here?”
Logan usually sees Laura at the Xavier Institute, when he visits with Wade. If not, she usually comes to see him during the normal hours of the day, not during the night. Despite this, Laura seems unbothered, looking up at him with an unwavering gaze.
“I’m visiting you,” Laura states matter-of-factly as if this was normal.
Logan pauses, doesn’t really know what to do, but his brain settles on letting Laura in first. She’s already here, he can’t just tell her to go back. He watches as she walks in, turns on the lights that Logan didn’t bother turning on, and puts her green backpack down on the floor. Mary Puppins wasted no time in springing to life from her dog bed and skidding towards her. Logan watches Laura’s smile light up on her face.
“Mary Puppins! I’ve missed you!” Laura has a contagious laugh, and Logan can’t help it when the corner of his mouth tug up into a small smile. Laura kneels on the floor to scoop up the dog, who merrily jumps up into her arms. Mary gives her a couple of sloppy dog kisses before Laura laughs and sets her back down on the floor, where the dog tries to impress Laura by standing on her hind legs. The position didn’t last long before she loses her balance and drops to all fours again, but Laura seems to be entertained, still. Logan watches the two of them, leaning against the wall.
Laura leaves Mary Puppins alone after a while, standing back up and walking over to the couch, plopping down on the recliner where Logan was previously relaxing. He watches sorrowfully (not really) as his spot is taken, but he doesn’t have the heart to complain about it. It isn’t every day that Laura visits him, so he should at least be kind to his guest. Logan was not known to be a man with good hospitality skills, but he can do his best.
Logan follows after her and sits down beside her, leaning into the back cushions.
“How are you?” Laura asks, breaking the moment of silence. Logan glances over, meeting her eyes.
“I’m doing good,” It’s not a lie, per se, but he could be doing better. At least it’s the best he’s been for a while now. “You?”
Laura nods, leaning down to shuffle through her bag for something. “I’m doing good, too.”
“Yeah? How’s Xavier’s place been treating you?”
Laura pulls out a bag of chips from her bag―barbecue-flavoured―and starts snacking on the potato chips. “I like it. I hang out with Ellie and Yukio the most, and they’re pretty cool. Storm is my favourite teacher. She teaches us botany and we get to grow our own plants in the greenhouse.”
“Seems like you’ve been busy,” Logan responds.
Laura extends her bag of chips towards Logan, “want some?”
Logan makes an appreciative humming sound as he takes a couple of chips out and unceremoniously eats them all at once. He could have better manners, but he doesn’t think Laura minds.
“And my room is really nice,” Laura peers around the apartment, glancing back at Logan afterwards. “Nicer than here.” Her smile quirks up into a teasing smirk.
Logan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Come on―it’s not so bad. I even cleaned.”
“Yeah, but,” Laura pops in another chip, “it kind of smells.” She says, smugly.
“Hey, that’s not my problem. Wade’s always stinkin’ up the place.” Logan’s claim is followed by a light chuckle.
That isn’t entirely a lie. As much as Logan likes to talk shit about Wade, he’s not the worst roommate Logan’s ever had. Wade pulls his weight, mainly as the only one bringing in money. And Logan hates to admit it, but he owes Wade his life. Wade was the one to bring him out of his misery and give him a breath of fresh air. Even though Wade might not act like it was a big deal, it was. Logan’s trying to come to terms with it, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever admit his gratitude. Wade talks shit. A lot. Every day there’s a new stream of nonsense pouring out of his blabbermouth, but Logan can’t help but appreciate it when the voices in his head grow too loud. Much to Logan’s dismay, listening to Wade talk his ass off is becoming less and less infuriating. Sometimes, he even manages to get a chuckle or two out of Logan’s old, grumpy ass.
“Is Wade a good roommate?” Laura asks, oh so conveniently mirroring his inner monologue.
Logan pauses, “he’s a shit roommate.”
“Then why don’t you move out?” She quips back, “It’s been months.”
Logan prepares to respond with something vaguely insulting to get at Wade, but nothing comes out. Even if he doesn’t want it to be, Laura was right. Logan had every chance to move out―and fuck, he’s talked about it loads, too. Mainly to get a reaction out of Wade. It wasn’t like anyone was forcing him to stay here. In this suburban part of the city, there were many places he could run off to. They had the money, and if Logan was actually serious about it, Wade would give him whatever funds he needed to fuck out of here.
But Logan didn’t. He stayed. For seven months.
Three months spent alone on the pull-out couch every night, the other four spent with Wade insisting he joined him because Althea was “hogging up the bed” and Logan “looked lonely”. Logan always sleeps facing away from Wade, and he refuses to talk about it in the morning if he has an arm half-hazardly thrown around Wade’s shoulder.
“Yeah, well,” Logan clears his throat, “I’ll find a place someday.” He leaves it at that, retrieving the half-drunk bottle of whiskey off of the coffee table and downs a sizable gulp. Normally, Logan would be more mindful of his alcohol intake around children, but he can’t stay drunk enough to do anything stupid, anyway. And besides, Laura isn’t a kid anymore. Well, she is―technically. She’s seventeen. But she’s seen and done things that kids usually shouldn’t. Like hopping dimensions, kidnapping, being raised as a lab rat, and killing. Too much killing a kid should ever witness, let alone do. Those sick fucks, whoever did this to her. No one should go through the burden of living like this. Going through so much pain that you get used to the hurt.
The pair fall silent after that. It’s not an uncomfortable silence. They’ve done this before, sitting around and watching the television. They’ve been chatting for a while and he doesn’t really know what’s going on screen anymore. So he does his best to catch up, watching the episode along with Laura. The apartment was quiet apart from the sound of the television and Laura’s chips. Mary Puppins seemed to have found her peace and was sleeping like a dead dog, posed like a frog ready for dissection on her overly expensive fluffy dog bed.
Logan enjoys moments like these. Ones where he can just pretend like everything’s normal for a second. Because this is what families do, right? Enjoy a nice evening in front of the TV together, after Laura’s long day at school?
Family. Logan’s always believed family was an f-word, but maybe these human beings in his life had changed his mind.
A thought pops into his mind amidst the silence. “What was the old Logan like?”
He doesn’t know if it’s a sore subject for Laura or not. Up until now, Logan doesn’t really know what the one before him was like other than the shit Wade had told him. Something about being “chest-fucked by a tree” and “sacrificing his life”. He was curious about how different they’d be. They were practically the same guy, after all.
Laura looks over to Logan as if she were surveying him, looking him up and down. “A lot like you. Always grumpy, always swearing, and really muscly. But I think your hair is better. He had a really big beard.” Laura sports a small grin on her face as if she were thinking of fond memories.
“Sounds like me but with more facial hair.” Logan scoffs, and Laura follows with a prompt giggle. For the most part, Logan hasn’t been letting his hair run wild. He trims it from time to time with his claws (they cut better than scissors) and he does his civil duty in shaving, keeping his mutton chops under control.
“What about you?” Laura turns to stare at Logan, “did you have a Laura in your world?”
“Well, uh,” Logan tsks, “hard to say.”
For the past decade of his past life, Logan had barely known anyone. He had no friends. No enemies. Rage and grief had consumed him whole. Night after night he spent out killing, letting his fury out on nameless faces until he was too tired to move. He felt remorse, sure. There was no excuse for murdering innocent people.
Even though he was sure Laura knew about it, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up that he was too fucked in the head to form friendships at the time.
“There was, uh, somethin’ I heard about mutant kids being… created.” Logan explained, “Charles―the Charles in my world told me. But I was too busy worrying about… other things to care.” In other words, he skipped town and went on a rage-fueled murder rampage. “I never would’ve imagined they would make a clone of me.”
It made sense, though. As a former passion project of Stryker’s, there was a high chance of his DNA being scattered and transferred around different laboratories. The perks that came with being an experiment.
“Well, they did,” Laura speaks, clearly referring to herself, “but they also made another version of you, you know? He was X-24, right after me. He looked exactly like you, and had the same powers and claws, but he was different. He never talked or smiled, all he did was hurt people. The bad man told him what to do and he just did.”
Logan breathes deep. “Wow,” an exact clone of him was fucking freakish, “is he still―”
“I had to kill him, or else he would’ve killed you,” she says, to the point, “but I guess that didn’t really matter in the end.”
“Jesus,” Logan says, almost whisper-quiet like there was something stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, kid. That you had to go through any of this. You’re―you’re young and…There are some sick fucking bastards on this Godforsaken Earth that want to make soldiers out of anything. It’s just plain wrong.”
Laura takes a breath before she speaks up. “I know. I get nightmares, a lot.”
Me too, Logan thinks. Too often.
“But, it’s okay,” Laura turns to Logan, “at least I’m here now, right? I’m with all my friends, and we go to the mall every week. And I get to grow my own pitcher plants in school and feed them flies.”
She pauses. “My friends from the laboratory didn’t get the chance to have this, so I try to enjoy it the best I can.”
Jesus, he needs to be taking notes from this kid. She’s seventeen and is already making her peace with the fucked up world, while Logan’s been around since the fucking Precambrian era and he’s still rotting around in his apartment with no clear objective with his life.
“Yeah,” Logan speaks up after a moment with his thoughts, “you’re right. That’s good, kid.”
Laura makes a humming noise and goes back to eating her chips. Only just now did Logan realize she was hauling around a whole-ass family pack, and not a normal-sized one. But, Logan couldn’t blame her. He had a big appetite as well. He might as well start buying the snacks they have at home in bulk now.
A few minutes pass by. Both of them let out consecutive yawns as an episode of My Little Pony plays on the television. Laura had changed it a little while ago, getting bored of The Bachelorette . Logan didn’t mind.
“So, that X-24 guy, you said he looked like me,” Logan says, his gravelly voice a little groggy from the fatigue, “was he more handsome than me?”
Laura looks at him with a confused smile, like it was the worst joke Logan’s ever told. To be fair, Logan didn’t make many jokes.
“Oh, definitely .” Laura laughs a tired laugh. “One hundred percent.”
Logan laughs, too.
When it is almost eleven o'clock, Logan feels a weight dip onto his right shoulder. Laura had fallen asleep. To make sure she didn’t wake up with a sore back, Logan carefully dislodges himself and goes to work setting up the pull-out couch. When he was done, he carries her towards it, setting her down gently to not wake her up and pulls a blanket over her shoulders.
Logan turns off the television and goes to brush his teeth. He comes back to Laura still sleeping soundly, lightly snoring.
He’ll sleep on the recliner tonight.