Work Text:
The night was colder than expected for mid-fall. Or maybe Wade wasn’t sure what the appropriate weather for this time of the year may be. Most days he didn’t care for the weather. Because most days, his body didn’t feel like it was trying to pull itself apart. He rarely brought it up to anyone, but his healing factor occasionally couldn’t handle the cancer, which was more painful than any stab wound. No one would understand the feeling anyway. On days when Wade’s skin felt like it was trying to pull and stretch and shrink at the same time when his muscles burned with an ache indescribable by any collection of words, he went out onto the roof of his apartment building. A year or so ago he managed to climb to the top of it and found a pretty lovely view. There was a rough and fucked up-looking couch up there. He didn’t question where it came from, or what might’ve occurred on it, but it was a pretty comfortable couch. The view from up top was decent, and you could see a few blocks out before the city blurred into shapes and bright lights. Sitting still was the only thing that didn’t hurt to do on his ‘burn’ days. Wade would quietly leave the apartment so as not to bother Al, and go sit in the night air and allow his body to buzz and sting until he felt himself doze off. Then he makes his way back and sleeps on the couch in their living room. That routine worked out for a while, despite waking up briefly sore (which went away as soon as he moved around, and his healing factor took course). But then Logan moved in.
Logan made it a bit harder to quietly leave the apartment.
In reality, the burn days became pretty rare. But when one decided to inevitably strike, this one being a first since Logan moved in, Wade found it a lot harder to hide physical distress with someone who could see it. He opted out of holding through the bad waves of pain in the bathroom, curled up against the cold wall and tile as his arms, legs, chest, and head, excruciatingly pulled at themselves. At first, Wade attempted all sorts of painkiller cocktails to try and fight back against this. Not only painkillers but some drugs he couldn’t even pronounce as well. Nothing seemed to be able to get the pain all the way. Except for one thing, but even then it only numbed it down for a very short period. Wade didn’t know the entire science behind his mutation. All he knew was that sometimes a drug could leave his system in a few seconds, and sometimes it would give him a horrendous trip that was filled with hallucinations that haunted him even when he was sober. So he learned to just live with it. His bones felt like they were grinding against one another, and his muscles were actively rotting below his skin. It felt like bubbling, and it was like an itch he would never be able to either pinpoint or scratch. The coldness of the tiles kept him from completely breaking down and screaming, it all came in waves. He just had to remember to keep telling himself that. Once he felt a bit more stable Wade would splash some cold water on his face and step out back to the living room. Logan looks up at him.
“You good, bub?” It’s general. It’s vague. Wade convinces himself from Logan’s tone he doesn’t notice anything wrong.
“Just- feeling a bit out of it.” Wade lies, shoving down the urge to throw up when he sits back down on the couch.
Logan doesn’t pry, but his eyes almost put a hole in the side of Wade’s head. He wishes that he could say something reassuring, but it’s hard to come up with a comeback when it feels like your muscles are melting from the inside. They continue watching the TV in silence and Wade feels a cold sweat run down his back. Great, if he got a fever that would just be the cherry on top. The episode is over in a blur, just like the rest of it. Mary Puppins was already curled up in her bed, snoring away at the late hour. Normally Wade would pick her up and cuddle her in his lap while they enjoyed their quiet time, but every breath cut holes in his lungs. He couldn’t imagine moving an inch. After looking at the time on his phone, Logan lets out what Wade would call a ‘dad sigh’. It’s overly dramatic, and he does it while standing up from the couch. Wade looks at him with as much energy as he can muster and puts on a weak smile. Logan has a suspicious look on his face, almost pitiful. But after a few seconds of them just looking at each other, he nods at Wade and turns to walk to their bedroom. Since they moved in, it got crowded pretty frequently, so Al has begun to spend a lot of her time out of the house. She had friends she met one way or another, probably from those bingo nights Logan drove her to on, how she would refer to it, ‘pretty fucking menacing bike’, to ‘better her winning chances’. Where she was exactly was beyond Wade, but Al could handle herself fine. They taught her how to call them using Siri, so it eased his worry. His bones ached all over, but he heard the doorknob on the door twist and creak, and he assumed he was now alone. He wouldn’t mind company, or for someone to complain to about this seemingly endless pain. But he would adapt, Wade always adapted.
He sat in the dark living room for a few minutes. Wade didn’t even realize Logan had turned off the lights when he left, probably out of habit. There was another wave of pain, this time he pinpointed the pain in his chest, feeling every painful heartbeat as it died and regenerated a few times. It burned like hell, and Wade didn’t cry, but wished he did. Exhaling, he took advantage of the pain downtime and rose to his feet. Walking over to the front door, he slips on some slides and throws on a hoodie he kept by the door. The night was colder, they were mid-fall at this point. Wade has gotten pretty good at leaving the apartment quietly. Their front door was janky and creaked any time you pulled on the handle in any direction but slightly to the left and down. The hinges required you to push the door upward to not let out the most violent creak. There was one floorboard that was sticking up a little, and in the dead silent apartment also made a loud noise. Wade had his feet on either side of that board as he looked in his other jacket for his lighter and blunts. The lighter he has had since he was in special forces and treasured it like a wedding ring. Logan had seen it once or twice and seemed intrigued. Never asked Wade about the origin of it though. He didn’t expect him to. There is a pang in his chest, but it’s not physical pain. The blunts were pre-rolled by some guy from someone Al got her stuff from. Weed that was probably illegal in all fifty states, but it got Wade to shake hands with God, and most importantly got rid of the pain. He’d hate to make the place reek like a stoner den, so he excused himself outside whenever possible. He liked to think it was therapeutic, sitting in the fresh air outside in the night by himself. The apartment building itself was probably around Logan’s age, the stairs are chipped and stone, and too thin and worn to be considered safe. His hands were in his pockets, holding the lighter in one, and the small box in the other, the contents of it rattling slightly as he made his way up three floors. The exit to the roof itself was always propped open, which seemed like a safety concern Wade didn’t care about.
Much like expected, there was a faint breeze on the rooftop. Wade tightens the strings around his hood over his head, feeling like the slightest gust of air was burning his skin. He throws himself onto the worn leather couch facing the city skyline that was lit up during the late night. There were very few cars, but they drove by either just on the street below or far out in the distance. After feeling the pain coming on in his arms, Wade settles into the far corner of the couch and pulls out the box in his pocket, taking out a blunt and flicking open his zippo. Wade takes care of it well, the engraving on it still looks polished, and the only wear and tear on it is the occasional scratch and the slightly loose hinge of the cap. He lights the tip, and inhales the hit, feeling relief flood over his body. His nerves ease, muscles relax as the bubbling under his skin simmers down like boiling water taken off the stove. Wade feels his thoughts clear up and he wonders if he had closed the door all the way, if Logan heard him leave the house. Could Logan even get high? He can for sure get drunk, but not for long. After a few minutes of smoking and enjoying the quiet of the night he exhales with his full chest, relieved to not feel the ache in his muscles and lungs anymore. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Wade pats his pocket down as he finds it.
You didn’t say goodnight.
Wade scoffs a little, he didn’t think Logan needed a good night to sleep well.
goodnight logan
He types the message, faster than he can think about what he puts down.
goodnight logan
i love you
goodnight logan
He sends it and sets his phone down.
Wade takes a moment to breathe and enjoy the quiet. He often always had to have some type of noise around him. Their TV was practically never off, the quiet felt weird if nobody was talking and it made the house feel empty. He usually listened to music when doing his chores. Logan was always muttering something under his breath. Mary’s claws were clicking against the hardwood floor whenever she was going anywhere around the house. It was rare to have a silence that didn’t feel suffocating or alerting. Considering that he worked mostly on his own, it became a habit to be alarmed by the slightest motion in the corner of his eye. The smallest rustle in the bushes. Once he was here, though, the quiet was comforting. He didn’t realize how overwhelmed his mind was by constant tension. The breeze picked up again and Wade welcomed the cool air against his face. His entire body felt like cotton when he realized how he melted into the couch. They lived near a bar and a club, meaning that usually leaving your window open at night means that everyone in the apartment listens to drunk college students whether they like it or not. Up on the roof, the sound was a lot more muffled. Wade kept his eyes closed and listened to the laughter on the street below. He takes another drag out of the blunt and stares at the sky, which appears like an empty void. He exhales the smoke into the air and lets out a heavy sigh, thoughts loudly thundering inside his mind. Wade quickly loses track of his surroundings, mind slowly drifting under the influence
.
A heavy fabric quickly lands over his face, sending a jolt of panic throughout his entire body.
Wade flinches and quickly turns around, almost dropping the blunt pinched between his index and middle finger. But he quickly settles back down when Logan’s low laugh fills the otherwise silent air. Wade moves the heavy jacket to watch Logan sit down on the other end of the small leather couch. He’s wearing the same sweatshirt he wore just a bit ago, his biker jacket worn on top. Wade puts on the one that was thrown on him and finds it to be the TVA jacket Logan got after their dramatic hand-hold.
“You forgot a jacket. It’s cold.” Logan clears his throat, digging around in his pocket before pulling out a cigar.
“Aw, you’re getting soft, peanut.” Wade grins and takes another drag, reaching the end of the wrapper and stomping out the end.
Logan doesn’t respond, just continues patting himself down before letting out a frustrated huff. Wade already had a second joint in his mouth. The other man leans slightly forward with the cigar, and Wade cups the tip of it with his hand as he lights it. Once Logan leans back and exhales a thick cloud of smoke, Wade helps himself, the high melting through his nervous system as the pain completely dissolves. Logan throws an arm on top of the back cushion, angling himself slightly to face Wade who seems to be consistently sliding further down the couch in a haze. His eyes are turning pink, and a soft smile sitting on his lips. Wade hadn’t felt this peaceful in weeks, the constant humming in his brain finally silent. It felt like his brain could finally focus on something for once. The cold air picks up and Wade doesn’t notice Logan staring at him until he sits up and takes another drag, looking at the other man. Through the high, Wade realizes Logan didn’t justify why he came here. Or how he found Wade. He didn’t exactly strike Wade as the soft caring type, so bringing him a jacket to his stoner session was a bit out of character. But words don’t string together into a proper sentence inside his head, so after a few seconds of staring Wade diverges his attention to his lighter, feeling the engraving against the metal. He’d kill for this thing if he were to lose it, and he has. It has a date on it, but Wade can’t recall at the moment quite what it means. Maybe he should lay off for a minute. Logan cuts off his thoughts.
“Nice lighter.” his eyes fall to the small object in Wade’s hands.
“It’s neat. Got it while I was in the special forces.”
Logan looks at it for a long couple of seconds. He forces his eyes to look forward out onto the city in front of them. There is an ambulance siren in the distance and it echoes off the buildings and alleyways. It fills the silence while Wade tries to grasp his thoughts together, finally reeling his brain in to focus on the conversation. If it can even be called that.
“Why’d you come up here?” Wade rubs his eyes slightly, pressing the joint to his lips.
Logan chews on the cigar. “You’re not the only one who likes to smoke once in a while. Thought you’d..like the company.”
Wade hums, rubbing his arm a bit as he scratches his nose against the collar of the jacket. It smells a bit of sweat and whiskey. He knows he should say something to that, but nothing he thinks of makes sense through the high.
“Does it happen often?” Logan shifts in his place, his words followed by a few snakes of smoke.
Wade cocks his head a bit to the side in confusion.
“I know you get chronic pains. Is it- a side effect? Or-?” for someone who has lived for centuries, Logan was a man of very few words.
Wade laughs a little, he isn’t sure why. He twisted the blunt between his fingers, staring at the bright ember at the tip as he spoke. His voice was lower and groggy. “It’s mostly cancer, I think,” he mutters, fiddling with his sleeve after putting the blunt in his teeth. “Like the healing factor is fighting against it and it’s just a lot worse some days. Like being stabbed all over but internally.” Wade swallows, unsure where he should go from here. He doubts Logan would understand, because how could he? But it feels good to speak. Wade was anything but quiet after all.
“Sometimes it’s barely noticeable. Some days all I can do is lay in bed and let it happen. This helps, though.” Wade takes a drag, glancing over to Logan who is yet to react.
Silence sits between them, growing thicker and more obvious the longer it goes on. Things were being unsaid, Wade could feel it in his bones. Both of them were emotionally constipated, especially with one another. Wade always bugged Logan with random acts of affection, purposefully annoying him, and making jokes at the worst times. But that’s just their dynamic, it’s how Wade got used to interacting with Logan. The other never really offered any sort of emotional outlet (not that Wade expected it) but things happened. Once in a while one of them was bound to have a nightmare. Once in a while, Wade would wake up to Logan’s claws buried deep in his liver for a few brief moments. Logan would apologize, and try and shrug it off. Wade usually let it be and addressed the mess in the morning. But there was one time when Wade could see the shaking in Logan’s shoulders, so he hugged him. Innocent and gentle. Wade didn’t get impaled for the second time, he didn’t get cursed out or pushed away. There hasn’t been a nightmare since then, but he isn’t sure if Logan would be okay with it happening again. Even if Wade wanted to hope it did.
His hand settles into one of the pockets and finds a piece of metal.
Logan’s dog tags jingle as Wade holds them in his hand. He expected them to say his name, but instead, all that is written is ‘Wolverine’ with all of the other information like his DOD and blood type. Wade finds it interesting that the spot for religion is left blank despite him being almost positive that Logan has brought up Christianity once or twice in the past. It didn’t appear to be a traditional tag anyway. He can feel the other’s eyes on the side of his head, and Wade wished he would just say something already. They clink against one another once he lifts them to hold them in front of his face, and he notices another set on the chain. Curiosity peaked, Wade looks at the other set, and doesn’t realize through the high that the name on them, is his own.
“Wilson, Wade W.” He reads out loud, voice low as his eyes scan the rest of the information. “Type AB? Well that’s wrong.”
Once Wade looks up to see Logan’s reaction, the other is staring right him. Somewhere past his eyes.
“What do you mean?” Logan clears his throat, taking a drag out the cigar.
“I’m.. type A. Positive.” Wade rubs his eyes as he finishes off the second joint, the previously lit end slightly burning his fingertips as he fidgets with it.
Another beat. Wade starts to understand what it’s like to feel the weight of silence. “Why’d you keep em?” he looks back down at the tags, thumb feeling over the letters of his own name. It feels weird, to know this came from a whole different universe. A person who lived a different life, but was still him, in a way.
“Because he was a good soldier and an even better man. More than the rest of those shitbags for sure,” Logan leans forward and looks out onto the horizon. His elbows rest on his knees as he continues talking. Wade leans back into the couch, trying to make himself as invisible as possible. As if Logan would get scared to speak all of a sudden. “He was one of the few, if not just him and me who didn’t feel right about killing innocent people.” Wade can tell he is avoiding eyes. You can almost see the gears turning in his head, memories flooding in. Wade feels dread, maybe even guilt in his gut. “It’s what Stryker wanted. After I walked out, he found me and gave me his set. Didn’t tell me why. It’s silly, but I held onto it.”
Wade is silent while he speaks. There is a pause, but he doesn’t fill it.
“Next time I saw him, Stryker made him into a puppet. A murder weapon that was genetically engineered to do nothing but kill everything he told it to. But it was Wade, just with a sewn mouth and eyes that weren’t his. Blank and cold like a dog on a chain.” Logan kicks something at his feet, the sole of his slippers crunching against the gravel. “A shame, really. Wish I got to know him better.”
There is a buzz in his head. A fog from the high that clogs any sort of rationale in his brain.
“Have you ever been in love?” Wade croaks, eyes soft with his head on its side resting on the shoulder.
Logan gives him a look, raising a brow as he faces him. “What are you, thirteen?”
“We’re having a moment, Lo, don’t ruin it.” Wade grins
Logan huffs at the nickname, but allows it to slip by. His shoulders drop, eyes falling to the ground once he leans back into the cushion. “Yeah, guess I have. Knew her during my time back in Canada.” he kicks his feet forward, crossing them at the ankles when he extends his legs all the way. Arms crossed on his chest. “She knew a lot of stories. Always told me whenever the chance presented itself…” Logan pauses, swallowing. “It’s how I got the Wolverine.”
He opens his mouth to speak again, but instead just lets out a sigh. Wade began to notice his high wearing off, and the weight of the air between them began to really settle on him. The entire time he had been shamelessly staring Logan down. The curve of his nose, the way his hair flows back and up to form two small peaks. He wonders if he styles it like that, or if that’s just how it grows naturally. Which would be ridiculous and unfair. Then he notices that Logan seems tense. It’s unusual and makes Wade panic. But he understands. You can practically watch the memories fly in front of his eyes. The atmosphere feels thick and dry. Wade feels like he cannot breathe in.
“We only appreciate things when we lose them.” he says.
Logan looks to Wade again. His gaze searched for something in Wade’s face. He nods.
“I.. can’t imagine how many people you must’ve lost, Logan.” His words are shaky. But he feels obligated to share something vulnerable as well. Wishing he was sober, he continued. “I broke the fabric of time just to save Vanessa. You’re strong.” he clears his throat. “Sorry- I’m- I’m rambling, I think I smoked too much-”
Wade pauses once he realizes Logan is looking right into his eyes. Not past them this time, but into them.
“When I joined the special forces I taught myself to not get too attached. And then the cancer came around.” Wade looks down at his hands, feeling the bumps and texture along his palms. “That’s when I realized I was terrified of losing people. Funny, the irony of it, you know?” he tries to laugh it off.
“I lose everyone, without even a chance at going with them.” he swallows.
Logan lets a few seconds tick by. “I get the feeling.”
“I’m sure you do, peanut.”
They sit in the moment for a few moments more. The tension bubbling between them. At one point they linked eyes again. Wade expected Logan to add something on top. To call him an idiot maybe, or to just get up and leave with a grunt and say nothing until the morning. But instead Logan seemed perplexed. Something in his expression was debating on a choice, and it worried Wade to an extent. Because it can be anywhere from forking his liver, or literally anything else.
“It feels good to know I’ll never lose you.” Logan’s eyes jump around Wade’s face a few times. His expression melts into something so soft Wade feels his stomach churn. He hadn’t seen someone look at him this way in a while, let alone Logan.
Just as Wade hallucinates the space between them growing a little smaller, there is a loud clap of thunder.
Of course the weather is homophobic he thinks, throwing up the collar of the jacket to cover himself from the light droplets that began to fall down over the pair. Logan seems to curse something silently as he uncrosses his body and gets up off the couch. Wade debates just sitting under the rain as a way to process the moment, but decides freezing over wasn’t going to feel so nice. The rain prickled at his skin like little ice shards while he wobbled upwards, forcing his brain to properly function as he gained his balance. Logan paused in the doorway, holding the heavy metal as Wade slumped back down the stairs.
The steps creaked below his feet as he stepped down. Wade’s mind buzzed with the idea of the quiet and honest moment between them. He knew Logan would never call their home a comfort, but it’s truly what Wade grew to perceive it as. When it was just him and Al, it was a home as well, of course. She supported him like a mother and gave him a roof over his head. But with Logan, it felt like the place wasn’t so cramped anymore. Of course there couldn’t be more than one person in the kitchen at all times, the living room only changed with a folding couch that Wade and Logan shared. Physically, it was more cramped than ever on a daily basis especially with Mary running under their feet. While the trust stung in the back of his mind, Wade held a hope that maybe Logan felt the comfort in the air too. That may be because he started to remember what snacks Wade and Al liked, or what wet food Mary needs, or the fact he started doing the dishes without being asked to. Maybe the smile Wade caught Logan looking at Mary with when he thought they were alone, maybe that was real.
Wade walks through the door and doesn’t notice Logan slip by and sit down on the couch, watching as a slightly disoriented Wade takes off his jacket and shoes.
A few minutes go by and now the couch is pulled out and they’re watching some show on Netflix Wade cannot recall the name of. The high had worn off and now Wade had realized the moment on the roof still sat heavily between them. The rain poured outside, lighting occasionally flashing through their windows followed by a clap of thunder. Out of the corner of his eye, Wade notices a tension in Logan’s shoulders.
“You alright?” he turns to him, one arm propped up on the arm rest while Logan’s were spread against the top of the back cushions.
He clears his throat with a huff. “Yeah. Just not the best with loud booms and flashes of light.”
Wade pauses and nods in understanding. “Should've figured, peanut.”
Logan gives him a look, and Wade can’t decipher whether he is upset with the comment or surprised. But he doesn’t get a response, so Wade tries to focus back on the show. It was some sort of sci fi drama, nothing either of them really liked. But it was on the screen, and an excuse to avoid the awkward air in the room. It was becoming clear they were reaching dawn, the darkness in the room starting to lift into a dim light. Wade leans back and feels his eyelids get heavy. Maybe it would be nice to nap a bit, after all he was up all night.
Logan’s hand drops on Wade’s right shoulder. It feels heavy, which Wade probably doesn’t even imagine. Adamantium and all.
Suddenly he doesn’t feel like sleeping at all.
The motion is so sudden Wade forgets to react for a brief moment. It’s been a while since a touch has been just simply caring. He didn’t really think about it that often, but occasionally missed the gentle affection he used to get from people. It’s not like he really put himself out there all that much, or that he was really desirable. But Logan of all people, was not someone Wade took for the soft and caring type. Despite every bone in his body calling out against it, he leans into it. His hand is warm and oddly gentle, and it grounds Wade from the remains of his high. The air that grew to be so thick between them suddenly was really easy to breathe. Another flash and clap of thunder and Wade feels Logan’s hand tighten around his shoulder when he flinches. He huffs a frustrated sigh, the rest of his arm settling behind Wade’s neck.
“Why didn’t we just watch that one British baking show?” Wade tries to derail Logan’s mind off the thunder. There was no point in trying to talk to him about it more.
“Wouldn’t that be like the 3rd time you’ve rewatched it?” Logan slightly tilts his head as he glances at the other man.
Wade shuffles a little bit to become more comfortable in the hold. “And- it gets better every time.” he grins at Logan. At first he looks unamused, but then a smirk flashes across his face.
He feels that warmth inside his chest again. One that only showed up when he would see Logan smile, whenever he’d seem like not the fighter he was taught to be, but the man that held so much care and kindness. Logan just never had someone to show it to. The idea panged to a spot in Wade’s chest. He debates the idea for a couple seconds before settling his head onto Logan’s shoulder. Wade expected to feel a tension, or maybe an insult and a stab, or both. But instead the other man eased into it, almost holding Wade in place. A thumb slowly brushing against Wade’s shoulders.
“You really are just a big softie, peanut.” Wade looks up and gives Logan a wide smile.
The other rolls his eyes. “I’m going to slice that grin off your face, red.”
Wade chuckles a bit, settling his attention back onto the tv, despite the burning pair of eyes on the top of his head. A few minutes in the hold and he is starting to feel sleep weighing down on his eyelids once again. He tries to fight it, trying to think of something to say just to not fall asleep in Logan’s arms. But all that comes out is a heavy sigh, and Wade’s mind goes blank.
—
Logan oftentimes forgot what it’s like to be gentle. But he never really tried to either. At this point he remembered very little of his childhood, but he knew it wasn’t one where he was showered with love. For the most part, he was okay with that. Because Logan was a weapon. He accepted that from a young age. But unfortunate for him, a part of him was still human. A part of him still wished for a connection he never allowed himself for the sake of others. More often than not Logan forced himself to stay awake in fear of wounding the person peacefully asleep next to him. It was truly a small price to pay. He would never take a life without good reason. Never showing it, Logan always held a fear of caring too much for those around him. Because it made grief that much more difficult in the long run. Until he found a person he couldn’t lose in the usual sense.
Wade turned Logan’s life into before and after. Or a part of it, anyway. He didn’t realize but Wade really did make him soft. Not that long ago Logan would probably claw and shoot his way away from Wade. Because he was told he was destined for something better a thousand times before, and it always ended up worse than before. Logan wasn’t a hero, he was the villain. But Wade Wilson was a sly bitch, and not even the fabric of time could stop him.
So when Wade offered Logan a roof over his head (when was the last time he had one?), he foolishly took it. Logan took the offer and ran with it. Because it beat being stranded from bar to motel in a universe he didn’t belong. He’s be stupid to deny that he didn’t like it. Never admitting it out loud, but it felt good to live in a routine. Walking Mary, doing laundry, having a semi consistent work schedule, and getting groceries. Pretending his life was normal was nice . Maybe it was time to settle, the grey hair on his head was a constant reminder of that.
But Logan didn’t have that option. He knew that.
Wade’s head went limp as it rested on top of Logan’s arm. His breathing softened and the tension that seemed to be in his muscles eased off. He knew Wade suffered with a lot more shit than he let on. Wade had a big mouth and a quick attitude. But he also had chronic pains Logan could probably compare to radiation eating through his body, Wade suffered with just as much trauma as Logan did, he just didn’t show it. Although he knew it bothered him, behind the jokes and self destructive behavior.
He wished he knew how to help.
Logan stares at Wade’s face, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps. He never really got to feel Wade’s skin, but now that he was up against his arm Logan noted it was smoother than it looked. Which supposedly makes sense, it’s a bunch of scar tissue at the end of the day. But then Logan felt a twitch underneath the other’s skin, and he realized there were tears welled up in Wade’s eyes as he began to shift and wince.
There was a pang of sympathy within Logan as Wade sat up.
“Sorry- sorry…” Wade’s voice was slightly muffled as he closed in on himself, tucking his knees to his chest and crossing his arms by grabbing his own shoulders. “Fuck.” he exhales.
“Don’t apologize. Not for this.” Logan didn’t realize how sincere he sounded.
Then Wade tried to stand up.
Logan wasn’t sure why his instinct was to hold Wade down. To bring him closer.
“Let it blow over and then you can go.” Logan knew it came in waves. He didn’t know why suddenly seeing the pain on Wade’s face, or how much he was shaking was getting to him. It’s something Logan couldn’t fight physically, and it bothered him. More than it should have.
Wade hesitated but then put his weight on Logan, pressing into his chest like if he got close enough it would go away. Logan adjusts his hold on Wade, arms wrapped around a body that suddenly feels much smaller than usual. Wade’s presence was always so large, like a skyscraper in the middle of a ghost town. Now it was nothing like it, and Logan treasured it in a weird way. He gently squeezes Wade who seemed to try and catch his breath. The other trembled for a bit before his shoulders relaxed slightly. He was muttering something Logan didn’t catch at first.
“Hurts. Hurts, hurts, hurts.” Wade dug his nails into Logan’s back.
It was an odd sensation, because Logan began to physically feel the heat underneath Wade’s skin. Like an ember encased in glass.
“I know, I’m sorry.” It was stupid to try and take blame for something so out of his control. He runs his thumb along the back of Wade’s head, the texture soft against his fingertips. The other man sighs into his shoulder, going briefly limp as the pain seemingly subsides. Logan straightens out both of them on the couch, with Wade laying down on top of him, breathing still slightly uneven as he does. Logan runs his hand along Wade’s spine in silence, trying to come up with a way to describe the feeling in his chest. It felt good, really. To know that there is this one thing that actually does help Wade deal with the one pain he can’t escape with his healing factor. There was something really private about this. At first Wade straight up hid in a different room whenever his pains got too bad, like Logan would ever judge him for having a moment of weakness like Wade didn’t see him at his absolute lowest.
And he still cared.
Wade didn’t deserve this. No one did.
“Better?” Logan’s voice is quiet, having spent a few minutes in silence without Wade tensing or flinching at any sort of pain.
Wade pauses, arms wrapped along Logan’s neck as he is settled between his own elbow and the side of Logan’s face. He nods, but doesn’t make an effort to move. They’ve stayed in this position so long there is an evident warmth between their bodies that is growing to be somewhat uncomfortable. But neither of them acknowledge it. Days where Wade was hurting were usually ones that went by the longest. Logan never really knew what Wade did the entire time, they rarely spoke on the pains, period. But Logan could get used to this instead, really. Wade seemed to be a lot more limp in his arms, breathing deep and evenly against him. The early morning had already made itself known with the morning sunlight illuminating the small living room. Wade suddenly turns his head to look up at Logan from the side, catching his attention.
“Thank you.” Wade whispers, almost a hint of shame in his voice.
Logan lets Wade find himself back in the crook of his neck. A few moments of hesitation and Logan presses a kiss to the top of Wade’s head, sighing as he adjusts below the other and tries to get some sleep.
Logan isn’t afraid of going to bed next to someone for the first time in a while. The warmth between them has started to feel like home.
—
Wade wakes up because Mary jumps right in the dead center of his back, causing him to jolt awake. She’s not heavy enough to bother a heavily asleep Logan.
Wait.
Wade pauses in his motion completely, Mary Puppins walking along his legs and jumping back off the couch. The light in the room is darker, which leads Wade to believe they’ve slept into the evening. The idea is making his heart race. Wade is still against Logan’s chest. While they slept, Logan loosened his hold against Wade, arms somewhere hanging off his lower back. Wade’s hands were resting on one of Logan’s shoulders, head pressed against his left side listening to his heartbeat. It was slow and steady. The pain was completely gone, but now Wade was faced with a pain in his stomach not only from hunger, but also a slightly anxiety about having fallen asleep on the fucking Wolverine .
Logan’s words from earlier echo in his head.
Wade feels a lump in his throat.
Carefully, he moves his legs to the floor, slowly pushing himself out of an already weak grip. Mary’s claws click against the worn hardwood floors as she follows Wade into the kitchen.
Poor thing, must be starving. Wade thinks, glancing into her very empty bowl. He grabs one of her food cans, trying to open it as quietly as possible.
After feeding Mary, Wade realizes that he himself has had pretty much nothing in the past day, and it’s almost caught up to him. Having a blind roommate usually meant that if they weren’t eating takeout, Wade was the one cooking the meals. Which he didn’t mind, it’s a fun party trick sometimes. There’s an empty pot on the stove, which he adds water to before starting to dig around the cabinets for the ingredients. His back is sore from sleeping half twisted, and it lets out a pop as he bends down to look into their lower cabinets.
Cooking was a good time to process emotions, right?
–
First, he feels a pain shoot in his neck, and then he notices the smell in the air. Logan groans as he sits up on the couch, rubbing the side of his neck as he tries to get rid of the ache. Realizing he no longer is trapped down by Wade he rubs a hand over his face and looks around. Mary is asleep in her bed by the wall, and there is shuffling in the kitchen. He rises to his feet, taking a few steps to look around the corner into their kitchen. Wade was standing facing the stove, unaware of Logan. The other seemed deep in thought as he was completely still, looking down in front of him. It smelled good, Logan had to admit, whatever Wade decided to make was making his stomach twist in on itself. He looks out the window to see the sun is already starting to set. Great, a fucked up sleep schedule is just what he needs. Logan turns back to look at Wade.
Worth it, though.
He takes a couple more steps forward, pausing when Wade reaches to grab the can of tomato paste to his right, adding it into the pan in front of him. Logan ends up standing right behind Wade, and doesn’t think twice before sliding his hands around his stomach, settling his head on top of his shoulder. Fuck, the food really did look good.
“Mornin’.” Logan mutters, ignoring Wade’s slightly startled reaction after the contact.
“Isn’t it evening?” Wade responds, stirring the contents of the pan.
Logan inhales, the air smelling strongly of spices and garlic. The steam coming off the food was hitting both of them in the face, but Logan didn’t pull away. Wade’s skin felt just as good underneath his palms as he remembered, the sensation becoming a craving.
“What’re you cookin’?” Logan looks to the pan and pot right next to it, then looks at Wade. He seems a little more flushed than usual.
“Pasta, you hungry, babygirl?” Wade teases, poking around the food. Logan can feel the uneven rise and fall of his stomach. A small smile crept onto his face.
Logan grumbles at the nickname, but doesn’t say anything about it. His eyes are locked on Wade, watching his eyes flicker around the stove. The light in the kitchen reflects in Wade’s eyes that make them look slightly orange, it bounces off his face in a way that mesmerizes Logan. He’s shamelessly staring at Wade, and the space between their bodies is minimal.
“I got something on my face?” Wade’s voice snaps Logan out of his thoughts.
He pauses, the smile still sitting on his face. “What’s home to you, Wade?” Logan’s hands brush upwards on Wade’s chest. Gentle.
Wade pauses. Swallowing as he leans and picks up the pot of pasta, adding it into the sauce and occupying himself with the task. Logan has never seen him this at a loss for words. Who knew it was this easy to shut him up. “If you’re expecting some corny shit like home is where the heart is or whatever, I hate to disappoint you.” the pasta sizzles a bit. “I think home can be anything. A hole in the wall, a whole town, sometimes even one person.” Wade rambles.
“A person?” Logan cuts in.
“Yeah. Like an asshole with claws for fingers and a heart of gold.” Wade clears his throat, slightly leaning into Logan.
“Food’s almost done?” Logan pauses, one hand sliding off of Wade.
“Uh- yeah just have to let it simmer-” Wade keeps his eyes off Logan, his body growing warm.
There’s a moment of silence between them, and Logan closes his eyes as he rests against Wade.
“You’re awfully soft today.” Wade points out, moving around the pasta as steam rises up.
Logan doesn’t want to respond at first and huffs into the other’s shoulder, nose feeling around the crook of his neck. He’d never grow tired of it. “Just glad you’re not hurting anymore.”
“Aw, you worry so much peanut.” Wade grabs a tablespoon off to the side and Logan watches him scoop a little bit of the pasta onto it, blowing on it to cool it down. It smells heavy of garlic and pepper.
“Let me know if it’s missing anything.” Wade moves the spoon closer to Logan, who in turn carefully takes the sample in fear of burning himself.
Wow . “I’m impressed, red.” Logan chews, his mouth salivating. Either he’s starving, or Wade is secretly master chef.
“Well, you learn a recipe or two having a blind roommate and growing sick of fast food. It’s kind of fun, too.” Wade smiles. “Glad you like it, then.”
Logan clings onto him tighter, realizing that Wade needs to move to another part of the kitchen.
“Peanut.” Wade pats his arms.
He mutters something in disappointment, letting his arms fall from Wade. They feel cold.
–
Empty dishes sit on the coffee table in front of them, both men back on the couch once again, sat a bit closer this time rewatching The Office for whichever time. The day had long started, and it seemed like Al wasn’t planning on coming back from her retreat quite yet. Logan glances to Wade, who seems to be off in his thoughts just as much as he was. He thinks about the past month or so, and how Wade is right. He really did grow soft. But not in the sense that he no longer fought with the same force, or was any better talking to people, or was any better person period. By soft, Logan meant that now he didn’t mind Wade’s jokes so much. He didn’t mind listening to Wade ramble on this huge rat he saw run into an alleyway that had a huge nut sack, or how he chased a guy that had the wildest mohawk and ‘you’d think a criminal would want to not look like a peacock’. Logan found himself smiling at the idea of holding Wade close at night, at giving him reassuring squeezes on the hand, and kissing him until he had to gasp for air.
“Lo? Did you hear me?” Wade tilts his head as the other snaps back into consciousness.
“Sorry?” Logan blinks a few times, realizing their hands are now brushing against one another.
“I said was the pasta okay? I think I forgot to add-”
Wade was the one who did the talking between them, that was mostly a given. But maybe just this once maybe Logan should’ve warned Wade. Logan didn’t know when he himself made the decision, but Wade was pushed up against the armrest of the couch, Logan’s mouth pressed against his. For a few seconds, Wade just laid still while Logan kissed him. A pair of hands slid up Logan’s pecs, along his shoulders, neck, and then settled on either side of his face. Wade’s tongue poked at Logan’s lips for permission as the two began to find a rhythm. Their breaths grew heavier, and Logan felt his heart begin to race. He has been with countless people in his time. Men and women, and none really ever stuck in his mind besides a handful. But Wade? Wade seemed to push every single one of Logan’s buttons. He gripped Wade’s hips, the bones of them poking against his palms as he lifts him slightly closer to him. Wade makes a noise awfully close to a whimper, and the other’s hands grip at Logan’s hair. They pause, a thin string of saliva falling between their lips as they share the air in heavy breaths.
“Could use more spice next time.” Logan breathes, realizing the taste on his tongue was their dinner.
“Noted. Yeah, no for sure. I agree. Mhm.” Wade pants. Eyes shining in anticipation. “Can you- can you kiss me again? Please-?” he swallows in between small gasps.
They kiss again, Wade’s arms wrapping around Logan’s neck as he lifts him, moving the situation into someplace more comfortable than their couch.
Their.