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The ice rink was nearly empty that night, the soft hum of the cooling machines filling the silence. Wade had rented the entire place out, determined to give Logan a rare moment of peace.
Logan stood at the edge of the rink, his arms crossed and a frown etched deep into his face. The skates Wade had rented dangled uselessly from his hand.
“I’m not doin’ it,” Logan growled, tossing the skates onto a nearby bench.
Wade, already laced up and gliding around the ice with the grace of a drunken deer, spun to face him. “Aw, come on, peanut! I went through all the trouble of bribing the rink guys with free merc-jobs! And what’s the point of being Canadian if you don’t ice skate?”
Logan’s frown deepened. “I used to. Before the adamantium. Now? I’m probably too damn heavy. Ice isn’t gonna hold me.”
Wade skated up to the edge, his mask slightly skewed to reveal a cocky grin. “Oh, but this ice isn’t just any ice! This baby’s reinforced with cooling machines that can handle, like, a semi-truck. I checked. You’ll be fine.”
Logan glanced at the rink, his hesitation written all over his face.
Wade tilted his head, suddenly serious. “I get it. You don’t trust it. And that’s okay. But I promise, it’s safe. You’ve faced worse than a frozen pond, Logan.”
After a long silence, Logan finally sighed and crouched down. Wade assumed he was grabbing the skates, but instead, Logan pulled off his boots and socks.
Wade blinked. “Uh, are we going barefoot now? ‘Cause I am all for naked ice skating, but this wasn’t the plan—oh.”
Wade’s words faltered as Logan stepped onto the ice, his bare feet spreading slightly with each step. Wade noticed how his feet adjusted naturally, the broad surface allowing him to distribute his weight evenly.
“Mutation,” Logan muttered, noticing Wade’s stare. “Makes it so I don’t sink in snow. Guess it works on ice too.”
Before Wade could reply, Logan crouched lower, his knees bent, and his claws popped out with their signature snikt. Then, without warning, Logan dropped to all fours and propelled himself forward.
The sound of claws scraping against the ice echoed through the rink as Logan glided effortlessly, his movements smooth and calculated. His feet and claws worked in perfect sync, pushing him forward in sharp, precise strokes. He made a wide loop around the rink, faster than Wade had ever seen anyone skate.
Wade’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit, Logan! You’re like a freaking ice-wolf! Ice-wolverine? Whatever, it’s badass.”
Logan stopped mid-glide, his claws sinking into the ice to steady himself.
“It ain’t exactly traditional skating,” he muttered, standing upright.
Wade skated over, a goofy grin plastered on his face. “Are you kidding? This is so much better than traditional skating. You’re like the Tony Hawk of ice claws! Tony Paw? Whatever, it’s amazing.”
Logan huffed but couldn’t entirely hide the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to do any fancy tricks.”
Wade clapped his hands. “Oh, but you will. Trust me, I’m already planning our ice-dancing debut. Deadpool and Wolverine: The Skating Saga.”
“Not a chance.”
"Too late, I’m calling NBC as we speak.”
Despite himself, Logan laughed—a low, genuine sound that Wade lived for. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re incredible,” Wade shot back, skating alongside him. “Now, come on, do that glide thing again. I gotta get this on camera.”
Logan rolled his eyes but dropped back down to all fours, his claws digging into the ice. As he launched forward, Wade cheered, his voice echoing through the rink.
For the first time in a long while, Logan felt free—his movements unhindered, his instincts guiding him as he raced across the ice. And with Wade’s ridiculous commentary keeping pace beside him, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could enjoy this after all.