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Wade stormed into the apartment, slamming the door behind him with more force than necessary. A week of being absent caught up in some ridiculous mission he’d rather forget had put him in a foul mood. But as soon as he stepped inside, something made him stop in his tracks. The smell hit him first, that unmistakable stench of alcohol and… something worse. Death? The kind of decay that clung to a room where someone had passed out too many hours ago and hadn’t moved since.
His eyes scanned the dimly lit living room until they landed on Logan, sprawled out on the couch, a mess of empty bottles scattered around him. The air was thick with the scent of stale whiskey and something sour, and for a moment, Wade’s heart seized with panic. But then it kicked back in with a vengeance, the reality of the scene in front of him hitting like a freight train.
"Goddamn hypocrite," Wade spat, more to himself than to Logan, but the anger in his voice was palpable. He crossed the room in quick, furious strides, his boots crunching over broken glass and discarded bottles. He knelt down beside Logan, who was unconscious, his face slack and pale, a deep flush coloring his cheeks a sure sign of alcohol poisoning.
"Son of a bitch," Wade growled, his hands moving quickly to check Logan’s pulse. It was there, strong and steady, though Logan’s healing factor was clearly working overtime to keep him from teetering too close to the edge. Wade let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.
"How dare you," Wade muttered under his breath as he grabbed Logan’s arm, hoisting him up with more strength than care. He dragged Logan’s heavy, unresponsive body towards the bathroom, muttering curses the entire way. "You spend all this time lecturing me about taking care of myself, making sure I feel good, keeping me from doing stupid shit and then you pull this? What the hell, Logan?"
Logan didn’t respond, of course he was too far gone for that. Wade maneuvered him into the bathroom and propped him up against the sink, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and worry. He turned on the shower, letting the cold water run before he hauled Logan under the spray, the freezing water crashing over his body.
"Wake up, you idiot," Wade hissed, his hands gripping Logan’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. "I swear, if you die on me, I’m gonna kill you myself."
Logan groaned as the cold water hit him, his body shuddering as he slowly came to. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glazed, but Wade’s angry face was the first thing he saw. "W-Wade?" Logan slurred, blinking against the water and the haze of alcohol that still fogged his brain.
"Yeah, it’s me, asshole," Wade snapped, though his grip on Logan’s shoulders was firm, steady. "You scared the shit out of me, you know that? I come home after a week, and this is what I find? What the hell were you thinking?"
Logan’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what was happening, his body weak and uncooperative. "Needed… needed to forget," he mumbled, his words barely audible over the sound of the shower.
Wade’s anger flared again, though this time it was tinged with something else, something close to hurt. "Forget? Forget what, Logan? That you’re not the only one who cares? That you’re not the only one who’s been through some shit?" He shook Logan again, more out of frustration than anything. "You can't be serious. Not after everything."
Logan’s head lolled forward, and Wade caught him before he could slump to the floor, his hands still gripping Logan’s shoulders. The anger drained out of him, replaced by a deep, tired sadness. He sighed heavily, his forehead dropping against Logan’s, the cool water soaking through his mask as he held onto the man in front of him.
"You’re not alone, you stubborn bastard," Wade whispered, his voice rough but filled with emotion. "You don’t have to do this alone."
Logan’s eyes were more focused now, a flicker of understanding passing through them as he looked at Wade, his chest heaving from the effort of staying upright. He didn’t have the strength to respond, but he didn’t need to. Wade’s presence, the anger laced with concern, was enough to pull him back from the edge.
After a few moments, Wade pulled back, his expression softening just a fraction. "Come on, let’s get you out of here before you turn into a popsicle," he said, his tone still sharp, but the anger had bled out of it.
Wade helped Logan out of the shower, taking his soaked clothes off and putting him in something more comfortable before guiding him back to the living room. He sat Logan down on the couch, then crouched in front of him, his eyes searching Logan’s face. "You scared the hell outta me," Wade admitted, the words gruff but honest.
Logan managed a weak nod, his eyes heavy but filled with a silent apology.
He looked up and oh, Wade's face was bare now. That just made Logan feel even worse. The way Wade looked at him made his stomach twist in guilt.
Wade sighed, standing up and grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over Logan’s shoulders. "We’re gonna talk about this when you’re not half-dead," he said, his voice firm. "But for now, just… just stay put."
He sat down beside Logan, the anger slowly ebbing away as he leaned back against the couch, the weight of what just happened settling in. Logan’s head lolled to the side, resting against Wade’s shoulder, and Wade let him, his own anger giving way to a deep, exhausted relief.
"I’m glad you can’t die," Wade muttered, more to himself than to Logan, his hand coming to rest on Logan’s knee. "Because I don’t know what I’d do if you did."
Logan didn’t reply, but the faint squeeze of his hand on Wade’s knee was enough. They sat in silence, the tension slowly draining from the room as the reality of their situation settled in. They were both survivors bruised, battered, and a little worse for wear, but at least they weren’t facing it alone.
Then morning came and Logan blinked awake, his head pounding with the familiar ache that came from one too many bottles. He groaned, barely registering the fact that he was lying on the couch, the room still spinning slightly as he tried to piece together the fragmented memories of the night before. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up like this, but something about this morning felt different.
The first thing that caught his attention was the weight on his knee a solid, warm pressure that hadn’t been there when he’d passed out. He looked down and saw a redgloved hand resting heavily on his leg. Then he noticed the steady, rhythmic sound of snoring coming from beside him.
Logan turned his head slowly, his neck stiff, and wasn’t at all surprised to find Wade slumped against him, fully clad in his Deadpool suit, mask off, head leaning awkwardly on Logan’s shoulder. It was a familiar sight Wade had a tendency to crash wherever he found himself most comfortable but this time, the context made Logan’s stomach twist with guilt.
It all came rushing back the drinking, the overwhelming need to forget, the darkness that had consumed him. He remembered Wade’s voice cutting through the haze, the anger, and worry in every word. Logan hadn’t just been drinking; he’d been trying to drown everything out, and it had nearly killed him. Again.
He shifted slightly, trying not to wake Wade, but the movement caused Wade’s arm to tighten reflexively around his knee. Logan sighed, the weight of his actions settling heavily on his chest. Dying from alcohol poisoning had almost become routine for him, a twisted way of coping with the pain that never really went away. But last night… last night was different. Last night, Wade had found him, had seen him at his absolute worst, and had saved him. Again.
The guilt gnawed at him. Logan had spent so much time making sure Wade didn’t selfdestruct, watching him like a hawk, keeping him from doing anything too reckless. And how did Logan decide to prove a point? By doing the very thing he’d scolded Wade for even thinking about. He hadn’t just let himself down; he’d let Wade down, too.
Logan glanced at Wade, his face peaceful in sleep, even if his brow was furrowed slightly as if he were still worried, even in his dreams. Logan felt something tighten in his chest. Wade didn’t deserve this the constant worry, the burden of keeping Logan from completely falling apart, even if not conciously. Logan wasn’t good at expressing himself, at talking about what he felt, but he knew he had to make this right somehow. Wade had done so much for him, more than anyone ever had, and Logan couldn’t keep pushing him away or dragging him down with his own demons.
Wade stirred, his hand slipping from Logan’s knee as he woke up. He blinked groggily, looking up at Logan with bleary eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him. "Morning, sunshine," he mumbled, his voice rough. "You look like death warmed over. No offense."
Logan grunted, unsure of how to respond. He glanced at Wade, shifting to sit up a bit more, his muscles protesting the movement. He could feel Wade watching him, concern lurking beneath the usual layer of humor.
"You, uh… you died a couple of times last night?" Wade said, trying to keep his tone light, but it didn’t quite land. "But, hey, you’re up and at ‘em now, so that’s something."
Logan didn’t meet his eyes. "Yeah. Thanks for that." The words felt inadequate, but they were all he could manage.
Wade’s smile was small, tired. "Well, can’t have you checking out on me, now can I?" He tried for a joke, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that Logan couldn’t ignore.
The guilt twisted deeper. "I’m… sorry," Logan forced out, the words rough and unfamiliar. He wasn’t used to apologizing, but he knew he owed Wade that much at least. "For last night. For everything."
Wade studied him for a moment, the playful mask slipping just a bit. "You don’t have to apologize," he said softly. "But… maybe next time, just talk to me instead of trying to drink yourself into oblivion, okay?"
Logan nodded slowly, still unable to shake the guilt. He couldn’t promise Wade that he’d never slip up again he knew himself too well for that, but he could try. For Wade’s sake, he could try.
Wade seemed to understand the unspoken promise, because he just nodded back, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Good. Now, how about we get you some water and maybe something to eat that isn’t soaked in whiskey?"
Logan let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and nodded again, a tiny bit of the weight lifting off his chest. He wasn’t good at this at letting people in, at being vulnerable but with Wade, it was different. Wade didn’t just see him as the gruff, invulnerable Wolverine. He saw Logan, the man beneath the claws, and Logan realizedbit really wasn't the first time Wade looked at him like that, he saw Logan, the real one, from the beginning.
"Man, I stink," Wade announced loudly, punctuating the statement with an exaggerated sniff at his armpit. He grimaced, but there was a playful glint in his eyes, as if he found some humor in his own disheveled state. A perfect deflection.
Logan’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight, the guilt that had been gnawing at him all morning suddenly doubling in intensity. Wade had been there for him, sitting by his side all night in that ridiculous suit, probably without a second thought for himself. And now, instead of taking care of his own basic needs, he was still putting Logan first, joking around like everything was fine.
But it wasn’t fine. Wade was supposed to be the one Logan looked after, the one who needed reminding to take care of himself, not the other way around. That had been their dynamic from the start Logan making sure Wade ate, got some rest, and didn’t completely run himself into the ground. He’d spent months trying to hammer that into Wade’s thick skull, driving home the importance of selfcare, and yet here they were.
Logan felt a wave of frustration, not at Wade, but at himself. He’d been so wrapped up in his own pain, his own need to forget, that he hadn’t even noticed Wade sacrificing his own well being to keep an eye on him. Logan had always been the one who was supposed to be strong, the one who could take the hits and keep going. But this? This made him feel weak in a way he wasn’t used to.
But as he thought about it, Wade knew. He knew about the problems Logan had, the ones that he would never ever admit to having. Logan took the role of helping Wade with what he had. What he failed to realize was Wade had been doing the same for him from the beginning. Maybe not in a so obvious way Logan did for him, but come to think of it, if Wade showed his care outwardly would Logan accept it? Would he really be okay with burdening someone else with his needs, especially someone as important to him as Wade.
It all came back in a rush.
All of the nights in which Wade held him protectively when the nightmares turned out to be too much for Logan, probably not sleeping in the process. All of the glances Wade threw Logan at any social gathering, making sure he was comfortable, that he didn't feel too crowded, stepping in when things got bad. Every time Wade checked in on him, the reassurance, the praise that Logan secretly really needed. Wade saw through him as if he was made of glass. And Logan hated too admit that it really worked, Wade helped him in ways Logan would never dream of expressing outloud.
"Wade…" Logan began, his voice rougher than he intended. He looked at Wade, really looked at him tired eyes, the suit clinging to him, and the lingering odor that Wade had so cheerfully pointed out. Logan could see the fatigue in the way Wade moved, the lines of exhaustion etched into his face, barely hidden behind his usual bravado.
Wade turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "What’s up, Logan? You look like someone kicked your puppy." He eyes widened. "Oh, my. Sorry baby, didn't mean it like that." He threw into the empty space, of course directing it at Mary Puppins, as if she could hear him. She was nowadays staying with Althea most of the time, happy whenever both of them visited.
Logan ignored the attempt at humor, his guilt too heavy to laugh off. "Why are you always doing this?" he asked, his voice low, almost accusatory.
Wade’s expression shifted, the playful grin slipping a bit as he sensed the seriousness in Logan’s tone. "Doing what?"
"This," Logan said, gesturing between them. "Putting me first. Taking care of me, when you… when you should be looking out for yourself. I’ve told you a hundred times, Wade, you need to take care of yourself."
Wade blinked, the surprise evident on his face. For a moment, he looked almost sheepish, a rare look for someone like him. "Well, I mean… you were kinda in a bad spot last night, Logan," Wade said, his tone more subdued. "Didn’t exactly seem like the time for a bubble bath and a spa day, you know?"
"That’s not the point," Logan growled, frustration leaking into his voice. "I’m supposed to be the one watching out for you, not the other way around. You’re supposed to take care of yourself, Wade, not… not spend the whole night worrying about me while you’re sitting there in a suit that smells like death. You probably didn't even eat anything the whole last day, am I right?"
Wade looked at him as if wanting to say likewise, he bit his tongue though. He let out a slow breath, his usual sarcasm absent as he spoke. "Look, Logan… I know you’ve been trying to drill that into me since forever, but… it’s not that simple. You matter too, you know? And sometimes, it’s not just about making sure I’m okay. Sometimes it’s about making sure we’re okay."
Logan stared at him, the words hitting harder than he expected. He’d spent so long trying to shoulder everything himself, thinking it was his responsibility to keep Wade safe, to keep him from falling apart. But Wade… Wade had his own way of looking at things, and maybe Logan had really underestimated just how much Wade cared, how much he was willing to do, to give, just to keep Logan from slipping too far into the darkness.
"I don’t want you to think that I don’t care," Wade continued, his voice softer now. "Because I do. About you. A lot. And yeah… well, you’re kinda worth it, Logan. You’re worth looking after, even if you don’t always see it."
Logan felt something break inside him, a wall he hadn’t even realized he’d built. He looked down at his hands, his fists clenching and unclenching as he processed Wade’s words. For so long, he’d carried the weight of his own pain, his own guilt, thinking it was his burden alone. But now, seeing Wade in front of him, hearing the sincerity in his voice, Logan understood something he hadn’t before.
Wade wasn’t just doing this because he felt obligated. He was doing it because he cared because he saw something in Logan that Logan struggled to see in himself.
"I’m sorry," Logan said quietly, the words almost catching in his throat. "I shouldn’t have let it get this bad. I shouldn’t have… put you in that position."
Wade smiled, that soft, crooked smile that was becoming increasingly familiar. "Don’t sweat it, Wolvie. Just… next time, maybe we can both try a little harder to keep our shit together, yeah?"
Logan nodded, the guilt still there, but now tempered with something else, something like hope. "Yeah," he agreed.
Wade patted his hand, giving it a quick squeeze at the end, the tension between them easing just a bit. "Good. Now, how about we get cleaned up and maybe, I don’t know, eat something that isn’t a three-day-old pizza? I’ll even cook."
Logan couldn’t help but chuckle, a small, rough sound that felt strangely good. "Please don't."
They moved into the bathroom, the remnants of the conversation they just had lingering in Logans mind. He felt as if he used up all of his brain power that was probably the most sincere way they talked in... ever and it left him feeling exhausted.
His body was still weak, muscles aching and his head pounding like someone was driving a spike through his skull. The effects of coming back from the dead multiple times in one night were taking their toll, and his liver, still sluggish in its regeneration, wasn’t helping matters. He knew he wasn’t at full strength, far from it, but the last thing he wanted was to feel like a burden.
But Wade… Wade wouldn’t let him lift a finger.
Logan sat on the toilet, feeling the cool porcelain beneath him as Wade fumbled with his Deadpool suit. The red fabric was so soaked with sweat that it clung to Wade’s body like a second skin, refusing to peel off easily. Logan watched through heavy lidded eyes, his vision a little hazy, but still clear enough to see the effort Wade was putting in. The sight should have been entertaining, even a little arousing, but the relentless throbbing in his head dulled the usual spark of interest.
Still, despite the pounding headache, Logan couldn’t help but stare at Wade. Even exhausted, his movements were filled with a kind of determined energy. Logan could see the fatigue in the way Wade’s hands shook slightly as he tugged at the suit, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against his scarred skin. Yet, Wade kept it light, refusing to let the situation drag him down.
"Jesus, it’s like peeling off a damn wetsuit after a dive in a swamp," Wade muttered, his tone half exasperated, half amused. He gave the suit one final yank, finally freeing himself from the sweat soaked fabric. He glanced over at Logan, noticing the way his eyes tracked every movement, even through the haze of pain.
"Enjoying the show, Wolvie?" Wade teased, though his voice was softer than usual, almost as if he was trying not to add to Logan’s misery. "I know I look like a million bucks right now, but don’t get too excited. You’re supposed to be recovering, remember, peanut?"
Logan grunted, the sound more of an acknowledgment than anything else. The truth was, he was enjoying it, if only a little. Despite everything, the sight of Wade, tired but still pushing through, still cracking jokes, was grounding. It reminded him that he wasn’t alone in this, that Wade was right there with him, just as stubborn and resilient as ever.
Wade, now finally free of his suit, turned on the shower to let the water warm up. He glanced over at Logan again, noticing the way he winced whenever the light hit his eyes or when he moved too quickly. Concern flickered in Wade’s gaze, but he masked it quickly, his voice light as he continued, "You look like hell, Logan. I mean, I for example always look like hell, but you… you’re supposed to be the ruggedly handsome one, remember?"
Logan managed a weak chuckle, though it came out more as a rasp. "… guess I had to take a page outta your book," he muttered, rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to ease the headache.
Wade crouched down in front of Logan, his expression softening. "You’re gonna be okay," he said, his tone serious despite the usual quirk to his lips. "Just gotta get through the shitty part first. And lucky for you, you’ve got me to play nurse. I even come with my own outfit," he added with a wink, trying to keep things light, even as the fatigue threatened to pull him under.
Logan opened his eyes, meeting Wade’s gaze. The humor was still there, but so was the exhaustion, the lines of worry etched into Wade’s features more visible up close. Logan knew Wade was tired, he could see it in the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, in the way his eyes seemed to struggle to stay open. But Wade was still there, still taking care of him, just like Logan had done for him so many times before.
"Wade…" Logan started, but his voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. Thank you? I’m sorry? He wasn’t good with words, especially not the kind that mattered and he apologized way too many times today. It still didn't feel nearly enough.
Wade seemed to understand anyway. He patted Logan’s knee gently, a small, reassuring gesture. "Don’t worry about it, Logan. We’ve got each other’s backs, remember? Now, let’s get you cleaned up. I might be a hypocrite, but I’m not gonna let you stink up the place after I just aired out the room."
Despite himself, Logan chuckled softly, the sound almost lost in the quiet of the bathroom. It was moments like this, even with all the pain and exhaustion, that reminded him why he stuck around, why he let Wade in. There was something about the way Wade cared for him, even in his own chaotic, often contradictory way, that made Logan feel… well, something he couldn’t quite put into words.
Wade stripped off his boxer briefs, tossing them aside as he hopped into the shower. The water hit his body, rinsing off the sweat and grime in seconds. He scrubbed quickly, not lingering on any one spot for long, just enough to get clean. His usual exuberance was tempered by the exhaustion clinging to him, but he kept moving with purpose.
When he was done, he put on fresh pair of underwear before turning to Logan, who's head was leaning against the bathroom counter, looking like he could barely keep his eyes open. Wade’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of him, beaten down but still stubbornly standing.
"We’re gonna do a bubble bath, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it," Wade said, his voice playful yet gentle. "But first, we need to wash off all the gross stuff."
With that, Wade helped him strip down. He then grabbed Logan’s arm and gently guided him under the spray of the shower. Logan grunted, too tired to protest, but there was a flicker of relief in his eyes as the warm water cascaded over him. Wade’s hands moved with surprising care, lathering up soap and scrubbing Logan’s body with a tenderness that was almost out of character for him.
He didn’t rush, taking his time to clean the dirt and sweat from Logan’s skin, his touch firm but not rough. Wade worked methodically, his usual banter toned down to soft murmurs of reassurance. It was a strange role reversal, Wade outwardly being the caretaker for once, but he handled it with surprising ease. And for once Logan let him have it.
His eyes slid shut as Wade continued, letting the warmth of the water and the gentle touch of Wade’s hands ease some of the tension out of his battered body. It wasn’t often that Logan let anyone take care of him, but in this moment, he didn’t have the energy to resist. And, truth be told, there was a certain comfort in the way Wade was handling him, in the way he didn’t make a big deal out of it, just quietly did what needed to be done.
When Wade finished, he reached out and shut off the water, the sound of the shower replaced by the quiet hum of the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Logan’s shoulders, guiding him out of the shower and back to the closed toilet where he could sit and rest.
"Alright, peanut, bubble bath time," Wade said, his tone light but his eyes serious as he checked Logan over, making sure he was alright.
Logan managed a small, tired smile, the corners of his mouth twitching up just a bit. "Thanks," he muttered, the word barely more than a rasp, but Wade heard it.
Wade grinned, his usual humor returning as he turned to start the bath. "Don’t mention it. You’re lucky I’m so good at multitasking. Now, let’s get you in the tub before you pass out on me again."
As Wade busied himself with filling the tub and adding the bubble bath, Logan watched him, the guilt from earlier still gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. But beneath it, there was something else too, a strange, reluctant gratitude that he couldn’t quite put into words. Wade was taking care of him, just as he had done for Wade countless times before. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.
The bathroom was filled with the soft scent of lavender and the faint sound of water sloshing as Logan settled into the tub, his knees drawn to his chest. The warm water, mixed with bubbles, was a soothing balm for his aching muscles. He let out a quiet sigh, the tension slowly melting away, though the exhaustion still clung to him like a heavy blanket.
Wade sat on the floor next to the tub, his head resting on his arm as he lazily trailed a hand across Logan’s back, gently washing away the remnants of the day. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to extend the moment, to draw out the quiet peace that had settled between them.
As Wade’s hand continued its gentle path over Logan’s back, he found himself idly musing aloud, "Y’know, I’ve always wondered how the hell do you still have abs? I mean, you drink like a fish, and you haven’t exactly been going on a lot of jobs lately. I look at a slice of pizza and it’s like my body’s instantly like, ‘Oh, we’re packing on another five pounds of cuddly.’ But you? You’re still carved out of marble. It’s not fair."
Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. His voice was tired, almost sleepy, when he replied, "It’s the healing factor, Wade. Keeps me from gaining any more muscle or fat than I already have. Doesn’t matter what I do, drink, eat, lay around… My body just stays the same."
Wade paused, his hand stilling for a moment as he considered Logan’s words. "Seriously? Your healing factor stops you from bulking up or getting a bit of love handle action? Man, that’s… I mean, you’ve got practically the same mutation as me, more or less, but my body definitely didn’t get that memo." He sighed dramatically, his tone more playful now. "Guess I just have to work with what I’ve got, huh?"
Logan chuckled again, a bit more deeply this time, though it was tinged with that same weariness. "You’re fine as you are, Wade. Besides, I don’t think anyone who sees you like this is ever gonna complain."
Wade smirked at that, his hand resuming its gentle motion on Logan’s back. But there was still a hint of wonder in his expression, the way his eyes flicked over Logan’s body, as if trying to puzzle out the differences between them. "It’s weird, you know? My body’s supposed to heal, but it still does its own thing. Gains weight, loses weight, scars… I’m like a walking science experiment gone wrong."
Logan opened his eyes slightly, glancing over at Wade. "We’re both freaks, Wade. Different kinds, maybe, but still freaks. Doesn’t change the fact that we’re here, still kickin’."
Wade’s smirk softened into a small smile, the kind he didn’t show often. "Yeah, you’re right. Guess I should just be grateful I’ve got my freaky little healing factor at all, huh?" He shook his head slightly, more in amusement than anything else. "Still, though… it’s kinda fascinating."
Logan hummed in agreement, his eyes slipping shut again as the warmth of the bath and the soothing motion of Wade’s hand on his back lulled him further toward sleep. "Yeah… fascinating," he murmured, his voice fading as exhaustion finally began to win out.
Wade watched him for a moment longer, his expression thoughtful, before he resumed his gentle washing. Even when Logan drifted off, Wade stayed there, his hand moving in slow, comforting circles, making sure Logan was cared for in a way that maybe he always needed.
It somehow felt just right, even though he still couldn't let go of the fact that Wade spent so much time fussing over Logan and being all cute and mushy towards him, deeply inside his heart he felt indescribable need of Wade doing just that. The amount of guilt associated with that had been successfully dulled by just the right amount of love Wade had been gently cocooning him in.
"Okay, we just need to wash your hair now, pookie bear," Wade chirped, a playful lilt in his voice as he reached for the shampoo.
Logan’s eyes barely cracked open, his voice a gruff mumble. "Don’t call me that," he grumbled sleepily, too tired to put any real force behind the protest.
Wade just chuckled softly, undeterred as he worked the shampoo into Logan’s hair, his fingers massaging the scalp with a surprising gentleness. "Sure thing, sugar muffin," he teased, a grin spreading across his face.
Logan huffed, a sound somewhere between annoyance and resignation, but he didn’t pull away. The warm water and the feeling of Wade’s hands in his hair were too comforting, pulling him further toward sleep.
"Just hurry it up," Logan muttered, though even that lacked its usual bite. Wade’s teasing, as irritating as it could be, was oddly soothing, and Logan found himself reluctantly appreciating the care being taken with him.
"Don’t worry, we’ll have you all squeaky clean in no time," Wade replied, still smiling as he continued to work the shampoo through Logan’s hair, his movements careful and deliberate, as if he knew just how fragile Logan was feeling, even if Logan would never admit it. "Have I ever told you that I love your hair?" He added, his voice unusually soft as he massaged the shampoo into Logan’s scalp.
Logan’s brain momentarily stalled, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. He blinked, processing the words as Wade continued, completely unbothered by Logan’s lack of response.
"I mean, it’s pretty badass," Wade went on, his tone taking on that familiar tone. "It’s got this wild, untamed thing going on, but then there’s these little… kitty ears." Wade’s fingers lightly brushed over the distinct peaks that, even wet, were clearly visible.
Logan’s eyes flicked open, surprise creeping into his otherwise sleepy expression. He’d never really thought about it, his hair was just his hair, something he’d grown used to over the years. But hearing Wade talk about it, hearing the fondness in his voice as he mentioned the "kitty ears," made something warm settle in Logan’s chest.
"You like the cow licks?" Logan’s voice was gruff, trying to mask the strange mix of embarrassment and something deeper that was rising up in him.
Wade chuckled softly, still working the shampoo through Logan’s hair. "Yeah, I do. They’re kinda cute, in a feral, don’t-mess-with-me-or-I’ll-claw-your-face-off sort of way. Are they natural, or do you shape them like that?"
Logan’s brain caught up, and he couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "They’re natural, Wade. I’m not exactly into styling my hair."
Wade smiled at that, a genuine, smile that Logan could feel even without seeing it. "Makes sense. Just one more thing that makes you, well… you." His fingers slowed, his touch almost tender as he smoothed the shampoo through Logan’s hair one last time. "I like it. It suits you."
Logan didn’t know how to respond to that. Wade’s words were so simple, yet they held a weight that Logan wasn’t used to. He wasn’t used to someone noticing these small things about him, let alone appreciating them.
He let his eyes slip shut again, letting himself relax under Wade’s touch. Wade said something about needing to rinse the shampoo from his hair, but Logan found himself not even grunting in response.
Wade carefully leaned Logan’s head back, preparing to rinse his hair. But before he let the water flow, Wade placed his hand gently on Logan’s forehead, shielding his eyes from the stream.
That simple, thoughtful gesture hit Logan harder than he expected. He’d been in countless battles, survived unimaginable horrors, but this… this was different. This was such a small gesture that shouldn't come natural and yet Wade still felt the need to do that in the most genuine, purest, uncomplicated way. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
As the warm water cascaded over his hair, Logan felt something inside him break, or maybe just finally soften. For so long, he’d been the one to protect, to bear the burden, to keep others safe. But here was Wade, effortlessly turning the tables, making sure Logan was comfortable, cared for, and shielded from even the smallest discomfort.
It was a tenderness Logan hadn’t known he needed, hadn’t realized he’d been starved of for so long. His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard against the sudden surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.
Wade’s hand stayed steady on Logan’s forehead, a silent assurance, as he continued to rinse away the suds with a gentleness that belied his usual chaos. There was no teasing now, just quiet, focused care. And in that moment, Logan knew this wasn’t just a one-off gesture. This was Wade, looking out for him, taking the time to make sure Logan was okay, even when Logan himself didn’t think he needed it.
As the last of the shampoo washed away, Wade’s hand lingered for a moment longer, his thumb brushing lightly against Logan’s temple in an almost absent minded, affectionate gesture as put the shampoo bottle away. Logan’s eyes stayed closed, not trusting himself to accidentally meet Wade’s gaze just yet, afraid of what might show in his own eyes.
When the water finally shut off, Wade gently moved his hand away, letting the silence of the bathroom settle between them. But that silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full, rich with the unspoken understanding that something had shifted between them.
Logan took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady himself, trying to hold onto this feeling of being cared for, of being seen. It was strange, unfamiliar territory for him, but he found he didn’t mind it. Not with Wade.
"Thanks," Logan mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, but he knew Wade heard him.
Wade didn’t say anything, just offered a smile and an eyeroll, one that Logan could feel more than see. He didn’t need to say anything. The way he’d just taken care of Logan said everything that needed to be said.
After they finally got Logan out of the bath and both got properly dressed, feeling a bit lighter after getting clean, they made their way to the bedroom. The vulnerability still present in the air, both quiet, deep in their own thoughts and as they settled into bed, that warmth lingered between them.
Wade pulled Logan close, his arm wrapping around Logan's waist with an ease that had become second nature. Logan snuggled into Wade's chest, his earlier bashfulness giving way to a quiet contentment. There was no need for words as they lay there, the simple act of being together providing all the comfort they needed.