Chapter Text
Logan should have been used to the screams by now. It’d been fifteen years, almost on the dot, of his nightly visits from those he’d abandoned. And yet, every time it felt real.
The lights in the bar were flickering, always just on the verge of going out. It was easier for Logan just to close his eyes and throw back whatever the bartender set in front of him. He felt a dull thumb by his ear and he reached out for the new glass without even opening his eyes. Before he could raise his head, he heard the door slam open.
“Logan!” Storm stumbled through the doorframe, hand pressed to her side. Electricity sparked as her blood left a puddle on the floor. In an instant Logan was at her side.
“Ororo, what, what happened?” He pressed shaky hands to her rib cage, trying helplessly to staunch the blood flow.
The rain and wind howled as she collapsed in his arms. “Your fault,” she choked out, blood tricking from her mouth, before everything fell silent. The wind and rain all at once halted. And then, like a crack of lightning, the wind picked back up, howling wildly, mourning. He could hear the other x-men on the current, screaming. Pain and sorrow mingled with desperation. He could feel Storms body growing cold, the blood drying sticky on his hands. Snatches of phrases filtered through the cries, Scott’s voice, “why didn’t you stay?” Jean pleading, “How could you abandon us?” Jubilee sobbing, “you said you’d protect us.” And Ororo’s final words rang through his mind, an endless loop. “Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.” Piercing cries squeezing his throat till he thought he would choke. “Your fault.” He pressed his hands over his ears, blood sticking hot to his face. “Your fault.” He couldn’t quiet them, if anything the screams outside only heightened. Beast howled, “you should have died with us.” The Professor, “I knew you’d let us down.” The cacophony stopped making sense, no words came through, just pain and resent. “Your fault.” He felt like each shout was a stab, a punch, an attack he had no way to avoid. The enemy in his own mind. “Your fault.” Breath quickening, he collapsed on the floor. Head still cradled between his hands. “Your fault.” He howled, his voice joining the choir. “Your fault.” They were in his head. They were in his chest. They were dead. “Your fault.” Every inch of him shook, begging for a fight, but he had no one to attack. “Your fault.” His breath caught in his throat. His knuckles white from pressing against his ears. With a scream, he moved his fingers from flat to fists, and shoved his claws through his skull.
He woke up like he was in the middle of a fight, breath impossible to catch and mind racing. His claws were buried deep in his thighs, blood trickling slowly into the couch cushions. Somewhere in the back of his head he considered what a fucking pain they’d be to clean later. He tried to remember how to breathe, shoving the image of Storm’s dead body out of his mind. He braced himself for the sting before sheathing his claws, biting down on his tongue to keep from shouting. What he wouldn’t give for one night without blood.
“Have a bad dream, princess?” Wades tone was light, conversational even, but with the air of one speaking to a stray, possibly feral, cat they’d found in alley. He was perched on the arm of their dilapidated wingback chair, bunny-slippered feet on the cushion and knees up by his chin.
Logan jerked back into the couch, creating as much space as possible between them. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Well, believe it or not, Al’s hearing is still intact. And waking up to screaming at three am seemed to worry her a little bit, so she sent me to check on you. I think her exact words were ‘bitch, if you don’t go shut him up I will shove my dirty sock so far down his throat he never makes a sound again’ but I know she meant it with love.” He leaned forward, voice hushed and conspiratorial, like they were swapping secrets at a slumber party. “I know what it’s like to have nightmares, trust me.” Wade tapped a finger to his forehead. “I’ve got a lot of material to work with.”
“You have no idea what it’s like for me, what I’ve seen, what I’ve done.” His breath hitched, and- no. Fuck no. He was not about to break down about this in front of a man in fucking hello kitty pajama pants. “Just leave me alone.”
Wade sighed. “I thought you’d say that. But Al was pretty clear, if I don’t get you to stop yelling, it’s both our asses on the line. And I know we’ve got super healing and all that, but I don’t think any amount of healing will get the taste of old lady feet out of my mouth.” He shuddered at the thought. “So we’ve got to get you out of nightmare mode, and into whatever constitutes as a ‘good dream’ for you. Hey, maybe we can start there! What’s the last nice dream you had? You can tell me if it was about me- in fact I think I’d prefer that- give me every juicy detail.” He gave a wink, scooting off of the wingback chair and onto the sofa arm by Logan’s feet.
It took all of Logan’s composure not to stretch out and kick the Merc into the far wall. Althea had better be grateful for the amount of restraint he was showing. Last good dream, that was a laughable thought. But something in the way Wade was waiting expectantly for an answer made Logan dig for a memory.
“The lake.” It was fuzzy at first, but the harder he thought, the clearer the image came in. “There was a lake real close to the mansion. And in my dream I was teaching outside, all the students were goofing off, splashing and running around. Nothing I said made a lick of difference.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “It’s ridiculous, you know how dreams are, that we’d be having class out there, but to see them running around-“ he swallowed hard, “-when I woke up then I just felt a little annoyed. Having to corral those little shits, put up with their drama and jokes, it was just the same as any other day. But now…” Logan couldn’t help the tears that pricked at his eyes. “Now, what I wouldn’t give to see them again. To help them through all their royal fuck ups and cheer on their successes. I wasn’t a very good teacher, or mentor, or friend. I wasn’t a very good person.” He pressed his palms to his eyes, breath tight and shaky.
Wordlessly, Wade slipped off the arm, and slotted himself between Logan and the back cushions. A gentle hand pulling his fingers away from his eyes. “You said when you woke up then … so that means, the last time you had a good dream, the last night you were able to rest… was that long ago?” The look in Wade’s eyes, was it… pity? No, that wasn’t quite right, it wasn’t as patronizing as that. It was a look of understanding. Of someone remembering their own pain.
It would have been simpler if it’d just been pity. Logan could have shoved off pity. But this? This look pierced his very soul. It twisted in his heart and begged him to let go, to open up. “I wish it’d stop.” Was all he managed to choke out.
“Oh Wolvie,” Wade ran a hand through Logan’s sleep tousled hair, and - as much as Logan wanted to chop off his fingers - the gentle touch only brought on more tears. No one had been brave enough to get this close to him in god knows how long. Yet Wade had no fear. “I’ve wanted to do this a long time. It’s just as soft as it looks.” He pulled at Logan’s shoulders, and he was sure he’d regret it in the morning- but for the moment he let himself be pulled. There really wasn’t room on the couch for both of them, but Wade was nothing if not determined.
Logan ended up with his head on Wade’s chest, and their legs hopelessly intertwined. That scarred hand hadn’t left his scalp, tracing lazy shapes as Wade’s free hand looped around to trace his back. In the morning he’d deny it ever happened, but now, in the half light as the moon set, Logan curled into Wade’s chest. He could feel the vibrations there when he murmured, “for the record, I think you’re a good person. You’re a good friend to me , Peanut. And you saved me. You didn’t have to, it would have been so easy to leave me, but you saved me.” Wade tilted his chin to tuck Logan closer to him.
It rang through his mind, shaking him to his core, ‘you saved me.’ He wanted to reply, whether to deny it or to thank Wade he wasn’t sure, but he was so fucking tired. His eyelids were getting increasingly heavy. And between blinks, he fell into a dream.
-
The lake was completely still, his reflection looking back at him like a mirror. It was his face, but wrong. Older and younger all at once. The lake rippled, a forewarning, and he jerked to face the woods. A scream pierced the air. Then another followed it, sharp and pained. It took everything within Logan not to just crumple in a ball and cover his ears. He had to stay vigilant. He had to keep fighting. Always fighting. He turned in a slow circle, searching for the source of the cries. The woods were still. A new scream rang through the air, disorientating Logan, but he stayed upright. Eyes scanning for an attacker. A branch snapped and he spun towards the sound. His claws immediately unsheathed, ready to attack, but instead of an enemy, a dog bounded out of a break in the foliage. At first he thought it was Mary Puppins, but as his eyes adjusted he realized it was much too big to be Mary, almost waist high. It had the same saggy skin and mangy smile, but the eyes held their own brightness. One ear folded over as the dog cocked its head, studying Logan. He heard the screams again, but from a different direction. Or maybe they came from his own mouth. He couldn’t be certain. The weight of them was becoming too much for Logan, his legs threatening to buckle. The dog didn’t seem to mind though, trotting happily over like nothing was the matter. The screams only seemed to multiply, overlapping and warping, and now Logan knew his voice was part of the chorus- his throat was raw and his ears ringing. But the dog didn’t run. It waltzed right up to Logan’s side and nosed at his knees until he collapsed on the ground. Satisfied, the dog flopped into his lap. All at once, the world became quiet. Blood tricked slowly down Logan’s chin as he closed his mouth with an audible snap. The dog just stretched and licked it off. He would laugh if he wasn’t so ready to fall apart. The dog nosed at his hand, nudging, clearly asking to be pet. Logan sheathed his claws, and obliged.
_________________________________
When he woke up, Wade had already left. The cushions of the couch bent into the shape of an invisible body. Logan told himself he didn’t care. And yet, falling asleep hopelessly intertwined with his failed high school science project of a roommate had felt so right . He’d felt safe. And he hadn’t woken up covered in blood.
Logan wasn’t sure if last night’s dream counted as a nightmare or not. There were certainly fewer corpses than his dreams usually held, and he’d count that as a success for now. Fifteen years of tormented sleep, and the thing that got them to stop was fucking Deadpool ? He really didn’t want to analyze that right now, so he shoved the events of last night into some back corner of his brain, and went searching for breakfast. A note scribbled in glittery green gel pin was stuck to the fridge with a golden girls magnet-
‘Sorry I had to leave early Peanut! You know I’d never usually skip out on morning cuddles (aftercare is so important !) but you looked so cute all peaceful and snuggly, I didn’t want to wake you up for a goodbye kiss. I will absolutely be late for a job if I don’t leave this very second (and the guy paying me will make my life hell if I miss this one) so I’ve got to run! But I’ll pick up something nice for dinner on my way home
xxx
Wade <3’
Peaceful and fucking snuggly ? The Wolverine was a mass murderer and scientifically created weapon, not a fucking teddy bear. Growling, he slammed the cupboards, mind too busy to piece together any sort of meal.
“I take it Wade was able to calm you down last night?”
Logan jumped at the intrusion, turning to see Althea dumping a can of dog food out onto a plate for Mary. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was so loud. I haven’t had roommates in a bit.” Understatement of the century.
“Now I’ve got you banging around in the kitchen in the morning too, can’t a woman get a lick of sleep in this damn house?” She shook her head accusatorially, but the smirk teasing at her cheek gave her away.
“J’st looking for breakfast,” Logan mumbled.
Al opened up a few cupboards as well, feeling around for the contents. “You’ll need to go grocery shopping soon,” she mused, words more to fill the empty space than to instill conversation. “For now these’ll work.” She chucked a silver packet of strawberry pop tarts towards Logan, who caught them deftly.
“Thanks.”
“Wade out late again?”
“Yeah, seems that way.”
“Thank fuck, finally have an afternoon to watch my shows without that jackass tearing every other scene apart.” She made her way towards the living room, lowering herself onto the wingback chair Wade had been crouching on last night. “You want to watch too?”
So Logan watched eight episodes of The Crown. And when Wade brought home greasy Chinese food and plopped himself on the couch in between them - chattering endlessly about whatever job he’d been busy all day with - Logan couldn’t help but lean against him. Somehow all his rambling calmed Logan’s brain. It drowned out the constant screaming, if only for a moment.
That night, just when Logan was about to settle in for bed, Wade appeared out of nowhere and wiggled his way into Logan’s arms again. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Honey badger, Al has still not lost her hearing. Neither have I for that matter. And you look so much cuter without black hole circles under your eyes! Pretty sure it’s in all our best interest if you’re able to sleep through the night.” He said it so plainly. Easily. Like it was just the most logical way to go about it.
“You didn’t think to just pick up ear plugs or some shit while you were out? How the fuck does you trying to spoon me solve anything?” This was not going to become a nightly routine. He didn’t need to be coddled. He’d dealt with this on his own for almost two decades, and it had worked just fine. But, fuck . He wanted Wade to stay. Wade, who was currently giving him a look like a kicked puppy. “Oh fuck off, fine. You can sleep here.”
Wade took the response way too eagerly, immediately flattening himself on top of Logan and running both hands through his hair.
“There’s no fucking room on this couch.” Logan grumbled, focusing on the things he could complain about and distinctly not focusing on how Wade’s hands in his hair just about brought him to tears.
“I’ll get us a sofa bed t’morrow.” Wade’s voice was muffled, buried in Logan’s chest. “God, your tits make the perfect pillow.”
He had no response to that one, and decided to pretend he was already asleep. Though, with the weight on Wade on his chest and those gentle hands in his hair, it didn’t take long for him to truly pass out.
Logan’s dreams were met by the strange dog again. No screams this time. No blood. No dead x-men. Just the lake gently lapping at his feet and the dog, who was much too big to be a lap dog, crawling into his lap. It was peaceful.
When he woke up, Wade was still on top of him, one hand loosely by his hair, and the other unconsciously tracing his ribs. Logan’s own hands were splayed over Wade’s back, one pressed under the t-shirt hem. He’d never really taken a moment to think about how Wade’s skin felt, but now, in the quiet of morning, his fingers hesitatingly explored the dips and ridges. It was a new sensation, but not unpleasant.
Every inch made him want to explore further, made him wonder what the patchwork of skin looked like under the shirt. How it moved and stretched. What it would feel like to run his tongue over it. What it would- what the fuck . That was a ‘two am, second bottle of vodka’ thought, not a ‘ten am, birds are singing outside the window’ thought. Wade, still fast asleep, arched up into the contact, humming contentedly in the back of his throat. Logan pulled his hand away immediately. This was too much. They were roommates. And they were only that because it was apparently very difficult to get your own apartment in a universe where you didn’t technically exist. They weren’t a fucking couple. They were barely friends! He’d known the guy for less than a month, why he’d even let Wade stay here last night in the first place he had no idea. But then his mind drifted back to his dream, to the feeling of peace, the idea of waking up and feeling any emotion other than fear.
The next day Wade brought home a sofa bed.