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They moved in a tranquil rhythm, bare feet sliding side to side on the carpet, one's hand in the others. A hand on a shoulder, the other's on a waist. Orange candle flames flickered from each corner of the room, windowsill, kitchen counter, the coffee table; they encompassed the swaying pair in warm, bouncing light. They smelled of pumpkin spice and vanilla, while the remnants of chicken fried steak wafted through the air, mixing with leather jacket and cotton hoodie, wool blankets and plastic cups, gunpowder and adamantium and old wooden doorframes.
Through the loft window the city night glowed in yellows and blues and reds. The ever-present sound of traffic passed by like white noise. Within a cabinet made of polished cherry spun a man’s voice, his pitch low and wanting though one could hear the smile on his lips.
Two hearts were beating there in the dancing light of candles, one thumping high, the other low. Logan buried his face in Wade’s neck, neither biting nor kissing, simply humming along to the music with his hand in Wade’s. Wade swallowed, eyes flitting from one object to the next, from discarded weapons to dirty cowboy boots and their little hairless dog watching them from the comfort of the couch. She gave him a look only a Deadpool could read from a Dogpool and he mouthed to her that he wasn’t nervous.
Wade was very nervous.
This entire scene was not something unfamiliar to him. He could remember a hundred times he and Vanessa would dance in their apartment, her cheek pressed against his chest and his lips kissing her hair as Bette Midler serenaded them from an old boombox that had no right existing in the 2010’s. It was this familiarity that had Wade’s heart beating like a closeted nun’s in a strip club.
He didn’t want to tell Logan, “Oh dancing to slow songs in our candlelit apartment after a great supper? Me and Vanessa used to do that all the time, LMAO. Sorry if you thought you were special.” Wade gave a figurative kick to the little bitch part of his brain, telling it that wasn’t what he was thinking at all. Partly. He thought the first part but not the second part. Logan was just as special. After all, they did save an entire universe together through the power of friendship and that amazing remix of Madonna. Not everyone could say that about their friend, their lover; Are we soulmates?
Wade lost his thoughts to comic book land where he attempted to ascertain all of the variants of Deadpool and Wolverine saving the day together or simply splashing each other on a beach.
Logan, meanwhile, continued his contentedness. This was nice. This was the nicest moment he’d had since…well…
He didn’t like to remember before times, before the drunken night and the berserker rage. Althea said it was good to keep those memories, the good ones. The ones of family. He remembered Hank’s quick scientific quips to his roughneck sass, Kurt teleporting to his shoulders with a six pack of beer in hand, Scott and Jean reassuring him he wasn’t the same feral beast he’d come to them as, that he was an X-Man. He remembered Chuck prying into his mind to connect old memories, Emma sparcing out the implanted ones, Rogue’s bare hand touching his as he instinctively fought against the intrusion into his psyche.
Storm, dancing barefoot with him in her attic room, a hundred different plants surrounding them, reminding them both of a different home, before they were made X-Men. When untamed wilds held each of them close, and made them myths in their respective lands. How far away those days were from their docile little dance, and how far away Storm was from Wade.
Remembering before was remembering her, and he felt his throat clench when he tried to swallow.
Still, Logan smiled.
“This is nice,” he said, voice a soft purr against Wade’s rigid skin.
Wade nodded, forcing but also not-quite-forcing a smile. At least he didn’t want to look like he was forcing a smile, but also Logan couldn’t see his face when his was pressed against Wade’s neck, so nobody was really losing…
He felt Logan’s lips on his neck, a short little huff from his nose, like a scoff.
“It’s really nice,” said Wade, and he rubbed his cheek against Logan’s hair. “And soft…”
Logan’s smile grew and he chuckled against Wade before kissing his neck. “I mean the dancin’. The music. The everything.”
“Oh yeah, the everything. It is nice. I just…”
Their bodies turning in an endless circle, his eyes gazed at another slew of objects, memories in their own right. The coat rack that was supposed to hold all of Wade’s weapons, but he kept throwing them on the floor next to the couch. There were a few groups of little action figures and toys he’d collected for as long as he could remember. There were the stacks of disorganized movies which Logan painstakingly organized every week just for Wade to start mismatching them again. There was the Switch he threw hundreds of hours into Animal Crossing with while Logan struggled to operate Luigi’s Mansion. That little memory brought a smile to Wade’s face; a real one; an actual not forced or not-quite-forced-smile smile.
Most of the figurines and movies were Wade’s. Logan owned all the books. Logan also brought home the four-foot-tall painting of the cowboy in the rain. He’d found it at a garage sale by chance.
Wade’s dark eyes lingered on that painting. It simply was just a cowboy in the rain. He wore his wide brimmed hat and his duster coat and his boots with spurs and he was mounted on a horse as wet in the rain as he. There was a path behind them, disappearing among trees under a mountain. The cowboy was looking back at it, part of his face unseen to observers. Water fell in streams off the rim of his hat. He didn’t have a name and neither did his horse. The painting didn’t have a name. The guy selling it didn’t even care much for it, just said his now-deceased dad collected old cowboy stuff.
He sold it to Logan for twenty bucks.
Wade sighed as the painting fell from view. “Me and Vanessa did this. Dancing in the living room. One time we slow danced to the evening news, but in our defense, we were pretty high, and we thought it was some niche Avant-garde new-wave…”
Logan chuckled against his neck again, picking up scent and taste alike of dinner and Leinenkugel and the cotton of his shirt and a certain spice—if he could put a word to it—of fear and discomfort. So, Logan nuzzled his cheek with his and let a rumbling purr of a breath touch his jaw. “Yeah,” he started, sorting his words before saying them. He hadn’t said them in years after all. “Me and ‘Roro danced too.”
Words once lost to pain and anger shown clear and warm, and as bright as her eyes. His heart then beat alongside the memory of hers.
Wade lost control of his own words before he even said them.
“Oh my God, I wondered which X-Man you were shacking up with. Thought for sure it was Scott and Jean, maybe Nightcrawler, but more Scott and Jean and now I’m wondering how that cute little polycule dances to Mel Carter and—”
Logan erupted in a burst of laughter, his chest heaving against Wade’s. Wade thought at first, he had fucked up, then he thought that he must be the funniest person alive, but then he thought that assuming Logan’s relationships wasn’t technically comedic because he honestly did think Scott and Jean were options. So, in the end, Wade felt confused and awkward as they continued to dance in their little circle.
Logan’s laughs dwindled and he gave a peck to Wade’s jaw, soft and sweet and Wade felt less awkward but more confused. “You might get a kick outta this, but Colossus said the same thing.”
“No!” Wade gaped.
“Oh yeah. According to your whole circle it was a toss up between those two and Kurt.”
“So, I’m not the only one.”
“Yukio guessed right…”
“Of course she did.”
“I knew Yukio in my universe. There, she’s older than you are.”
“So weird, so much of the stuff’s the same and so much…isn’t.”
“At least we both got Mel Carter.”
“At least!” Wade didn’t know Mel Carter’s name until Logan pointed out one of his songs on an oldie’s station.
Wade felt a hot burn across his cheeks when Logan kissed his jaw. He didn’t know why Logan always put him in such a way. Vanessa never made him blush so hard. Of course, Vanessa wasn’t Logan, far from it in fact. Hell, the Wolverine straight up called her a tamer, less annoying version of Wade, to which she giggled and showed him the scars on her palms. She said she’d go through Hell and back for “that crazy fucker”, and she’d do it wielding her spike heels in each hand.
It was Wade’s turn to choke through a swallow. He rubbed his cheek against Logan’s hair, brushing away thoughts of the tragic romantic with it. “What was Storm like?” he asked, a distraction from wandering thoughts.
Logan gave a hum coated in happy remembrance. “Powerful, for one,” he said with a grin. “One of the strongest women I ever met, literally. Too kind for her own good. Absolutely refused to take anyone’s life, even if they deserved it. Even when giant Alien bugs implanted us with eggs, she just wouldn’t do it.”
“That actually happened?”
“Sure did.”
“Jesus…”
“Ah she’s a helluva fighter, too. Put me on my ass a few times without even using her powers. Oh, and an amazing cook. You put the two of us in the kitchen together, everyone’s gaining an extra five pounds at suppertime.”
It was nice to laugh about it, and nice to remember.
“You are a very remarkable cook, peanut.”
“Well, I’ve had time to get it right.”
“Heh, old.”
“Experienced.”
“Oh, I’ll say you’re experienced alright. All the things you accomplish with your long fingers and soft tongue.” He flicked Logan’s ear with his own tongue and the man pulled his face away, at long last putting them face to face rather than face to neck and hair to face.
“Don’t start now. Mel’s still singin’.”
“Ugh, fine, but when he’s done, I’m jumping your old bones.”
Logan chuckled, pulled Wade in for a kiss, left him blushing all over again. When he pulled away Wade pushed him back with another kiss eager for the affection of his sweet Wolverine.
“Thanks again, darlin’. For the record player. Takes me back to simpler times.” Granted it wasn’t a classic, but a more modern record player that also held room for radio, CD’s, and Bluetooth. It played records first and foremost though, and that was what was important.
“When men were men and condoms were pig intestines.”
Logan couldn’t even try to keep himself from doing so; it was some type of snorting laughing snickery thing he’d coughed out into Wade’s shoulder before he found the wherewithal to chuckle like a normal human being. Wade smiled with pride.
“Anyways, thank you for the cozy Golden Girls blanket. Takes me back to hornier times when all I needed was NBC and a bottle of baby oil.”
Logan managed not to perform another snorting laughing snickery thing, but he still smiled and shook his head. “I’m trying to be romantic, here.”
“And this really is the most romantic night I’ve had in years, babycakes. I love it.” He mashed his forehead against Logan’s for a moment, but Logan forced his head back, gave him another kiss and stroked his cheek under his palm.
Wade’s eyes darted in any direction that wasn’t Logan’s eyes. He still wasn’t used to it being Logan touching him. Hell, it was THE WOLVERINE, touching him! Kissing him and holding him and dancing with him in this little apartment with the lights turned low and candles flickering and their dog lazing on the couch and it was amazing. This was the X-Men poster boy! Doting on him! Him, Wade Winston Wilson, just a deformed mercenary with a fast mouth and taste for cocaine and bad jokes. Not to mention a very cracked and bruised mental state.
The Wolverine was touching him, caressing him, running his thumb over each malformed scar of his cheek. He thought he was the luckiest man in the world when Vanessa did it, and now Logan James Jimmy Jam Jim Howlett was doing it. He sighed, all dreamy eyed. “So touchy feely…”
“I enjoy touching you, what of it?” Logan once again kissed him, soft and tender. “It’s like…touching the Earth.”
“Earth as in dirt?”
“No, asshole, like the planet.”
“Ooooh, I sense some poetic waxing about to take place. Go on then, honeybunch. Woo me.”
“Yeah.” His fingers traced the marks of Wade’s face down to his neck, placing each point his fingers stopped as part of that map. “You’re my Canadian Rockies.”
“Weird but kay…” Wade was equal parts disgusted and charmed.
Logan smirked and carried on. “Sure, the sandstone and dolomite are unforgiving to a climber who can’t grow calluses.” He absently rubbed his fingers together, always envious of that bit. Then he let his touch continue down Wade’s neck. “But rough as you are, your still soft to my touch. And all these, your rivers…” His finger followed a path between scars, branching out this way and that way. “Cutting through those mountains as they shift and split like the glaciers. Like nature herself, you’re ever changin’…”
Wade was blushing again, his heart hammering against his chest. He was definitely more charmed than disgusted. Actually, there was no disgust, just absolute adoration for the man straight up revering him. Were it anyone else, Wade might have called bullshit. He knew Logan though. Knew how much he admired lakes and forests and would talk about all the roughing it he had done in the mountains of Canada.
“And your eyes shimmer like the pure water lakes under the winter sun—”
“Okay, that’s enough!”
Logan laughed, kissed him again and swung him around in their dance, feeling the heat of Wade’s skin rise, his heart pound, and there was some trickling scent of arousal Logan picked up. “How’s that for waxing, eh darlin’?”
“Well, it’s not comparing my skin to the cosmos but, oh, I’ll take it I guess.” He met Logan’s smile with his and tried to look cool and suave but Logan was kicking out his knees with an iron bar of veneration. “If you make me blush any harder, I’m going to burst into flames.”
“Oh? I wonder what else I could do to get you that bothered.”
“Probably serenading me at this point. I just might lose my mind.”
Logan hummed, arched an eyebrow in contemplation as their current song ended. He knew this album well. The next song was an exaltation of desire.
“Get ready to lose it, buttercup.”
“Wait, no I was just kidding about the serenade—”
The drums came first, then the strings, and they both shot high into the mountains before Mel Carter’s voice—and Logan’s—burst through the crescendo, and Wade didn’t have the strength to pull away.
“Hold me! Hold me! Never, ever let me go until you’ve told me, told me—”
“Oh my god—”
“—What I want to know and then just hold me, hold me. Make me tell you I’m in love with you-u-u-u-u-u.”
Logan pulled him around the living room, hand in hand and his eyes sparkling with playfulness. His smile as he sang was the brightest Wade had seen him give.
And his voice—ugh! Wade would have melted into the floor from the amount of swooning he did were it not for Logan keeping him on his feet, swinging him around the room like it was some jazz club. He praised the author for letting him have Hugh Jackman Wolverine and his phenomenal theater chops at musicals. The best part of it all being under the written word was nobody would feel the need to complain about live singing while filming.
Enough of Les Mis references, Wade was in the middle of swooning and blushing and giggling like Pretty Woman.
“Thrill me! Thrill me! Walk me down the lane where shadows will be, will be—”
“You’re ridiculous!”
“Hiding lovers just the same as we’ll be—”
“Fuck you!”
“We’ll be! When you make me tell you I love you-u-u-u-u-u!”
Wade made a little inside-scream into Logan’s shoulder, his idiot smile pulling so tight and wide his cheeks began to hurt. There was the sting of a tear slicing its way across his eyeball and he wasn’t all entirely sure if it was from how much he was laughing or if he really was just that sad of a man to cry from getting serenaded and danced with around an apartment floor.
“They told me ‘Be sensible with your new love’.”
“Are you though?”
“’Don't be fooled, thinking this is the last you'll find’.”
“Hope I am.”
“But they never stood in the dark with you, love.”
“They know better.”
“When you take me in your arms and drive me slowly out of my mind…”
Logan let go of Wade’s waist to spin himself around until his back was against Wade’s chest. He pulled Wade’s arms around him and swayed their bodies together.
“Kiss me, kiss me—”
“I’m trying!”
“And when you do, I’ll know that you will miss me, miss me…”
Wade smiled and tightened his hands in Logan’s, keeping him pressed against his chest. He managed to kiss against the man’s fuzzy cheek between lyrics.
“If we ever say "Adieu", so kiss me, kiss me…” Logan let Wade slide a hand across his stomach while he raised his own hand, pulling Wade’s mouth against his as he leaned his head back. “Make me tell you I'm in love with you-u-u-u-u.”
At long last their lips met in warm devotion. Logan continued to grind his body against Wade’s as the instrumentals picked up into the next verse. While Mel belted his heart out, Logan was pulling Wade with him, hand in hand and lips still locked, he fell back on the couch, Wade on top of him.
Mary gave a doggy huff, narrowed her eyes at them as they kissed and embraced one another in her personal space. There was no stopping them once they started, she knew this, so she shook off their disturbing scents and hopped from the couch. On her way out the living room she tugged Wade’s unicorn from behind the couch and dragged it with her.
The two men carried on under the sounds of Mel Carter and a traffic jam.