Archive of Our Own

"Shh, shh, shh, kitty, it's — ouch! Calm the fuck down, please, I'm trying not to drop you, I — ow, shit!"

Wade has done plenty of crazy things in his life. Some might say his life has been nothing but a series of increasingly crazy things, but this has to take the cake. He stumbles his way up the stairs to their apartment, his clothes drenched from rainwater and blood, covered in scratches that heal just a little slower than the tiny, needle-sharp claws responsible can dole them out. The cat he's hauling home, tucked under his arm and fighting viciously against the hold, yowling and thrashing, biting and slashing at every inch of Wade it can reach, it's a pitiful looking thing. It's almost small enough to be mistaken for a kitten, with its ribs showing through scruffy gray fur and something between fear and hatred in its wild green eyes, but it's not a stray. Wade's not bringing it home because he spotted it on the street and it touched his tender bleeding heart. He likes cats well enough, but he was born and bred in the city; he knows scrawny strays are just a part of life.

No, he's bringing it home because it used to be Logan. Until an hour ago, when that drug dealer witch lady slung that spell...

"I'm trying to help you, asshole!" Wade snaps, pinning the cat against his chest and trying not to catch any more fangs or claws to the face as he fumbles open the door. "You are very small now, and Vancouver is very big, with lots of hungry dogs, and you would be fucked beyond belief if I didn't — ouch, fuck! — grab you!"

The cat just hisses like a pocket-sized tiger and swipes its claws at Wade's face, catches him across his chin. They're cat claws now, less like knives than fishhooks, but they're still coated in adamantium. It stings like a bitch. Wade kindly resists the urge to bust out a katana and test whether or not the healing factor also remains.

"Wade?" Al calls from the living room, as Wade trips into the kitchen. "Who are you screaming at? Logan?"

"Uh — kind of!" Wade kicks the door shut behind him, then yelps when the cat manages to wriggle out of his arms and leap down onto the floor. It's off like a shot, disappearing down the hallway. He was thinking about locking it in the bathroom or something, keeping it contained, but now it could be anywhere. "Goddamnit! Mary Puppins, sweetheart, don't go near that thing! It's not a friend, it's not even a cat — it's a demon! You didn't leave any windows open, did you, Al?"

"Cat?" Al's frowning when Wade slumps into the living room and collapses onto the couch beside her. Mary Puppins is safe in Al's lap, thankfully, and Wade opens his arms when she comes to climb into his lap instead. "What do you mean, cat?" Al demands. "Don't even tell me you brought another animal into this apartment, Wade Wilson."

"Another? No, it's the same animal. Just in a different form," Wade mutters, with his face buried in Mary Puppins' soothing wrinkles. "It's Logan."

Al pinches the bridge of her nose. "Am I nuts or are you telling me Logan got turned into a cat?"

"Why not both?" Wade cuddles Mary Puppins as she licks sweetly at the last of his scratch marks before they disappear. "We're probably all gonna have to sleep here tonight, Al. You, me and Princess Puppins. We'll take turns standing guard while the others sleep. Do you have any non-lethal weapons on you? 'Cause I sure don't. Any little-old-womanly tasers in your purse?"

"What?" Al balks at him. "How big is this fucking cat?"

"Tiny — but its desire to kill me is enormous!" Wade groans despairingly, drops his head onto the back of the couch. "Fuck, man. I'm gonna have to call the X-Cucks tomorrow. And buy cat food. This blows."

It blows indeed. Wade locks his bedroom door and cuddles Mary Puppins protectively all night, then suffers a jarring, near nauseating moment of oh-fuck-that-really-happened upon waking up. He does a tiptoeing, cautious patrol of the apartment and finds no sign of the cat, but Mary Puppins' water bowl is empty, and the few slices of bologna Wade thought to set out for it are gone. He peeks in on Al where she's still sleeping in her room, just to make sure she wasn't mauled in the night. She's okay. Mary Puppins is okay. Wade is bordering on okay, physically, even as the gravity of the situation begins to bear down on him.

Logan is not okay — though, actually, this isn't so different from their regular life together. Logan's standoffish and distant and generally mean, quick to snap with Al or bring out his claws with Wade, prone to disappearing all night and stumbling home to sleep off a monstrous hangover all day. Either way, Logan doesn't talk to Wade.

But Wade needs Logan back, now, or else he'll never know for sure whether Logan really hates him or is just pretending. Whether their best-friendship is really so doomed and one-sided. Whether Logan might start to really like it here eventually, in this universe, in this apartment, and realize how much Wade cares about him, and stop self-destructing all the time. The cat needs to go; Logan has things to do. With Wade.

Wade keeps a careful eye on Mary Puppins as she eats her breakfast and he orders the cat food, after a quick Google search suggests the cheapest possible brand. Then he makes the call, leaning against the kitchen counter and throwing constant anxious glances at the doorway, where the cat could appear at any moment.

The cat was Logan — but it's not Logan. It doesn't have Logan's mind; his mind is trapped somewhere inside it, needing to be set free somehow. Wade won't, can't believe that Logan's honest reaction to Wade picking him up and carrying him home was to scream and fight.

"Mr. Wilson?" comes Hank's annoyingly prim voice over the phone. "You need the X-Men's assistance?"

"Uh!" Wade scoffs. "I don't know, Beast, did you consider that maybe I'm just calling to check in? To see how you're doing? To be a pal? No? No, of course not, 'cause you guys think I'm just some whacky murderer who gets into trouble and needs you to get him out of it all day every day. As if I've ever willingly asked for your guys' help, ever — except for that one time, but that was just Colossus, it doesn't count."

Hank sighs. "So you are calling to ask after my health? Well, I am —"

"Okay, woah, TMI!" Wade laughs, or tries to; he's starting to feel swollen with dread. "Yeah, I need help. But, uh, can we just keep this between us? I don't want it getting out. And you're probably gonna need to examine him or whatever, but you'll have to do that here, he's like, super resistant to handling. More than usual, I mean. On account of having been magically transformed into a demon cat."

"... He?" Hank sounds baffled, which would amuse Wade under less horrifying circumstances. "Who on earth are you talking about?"

Wade takes a breath, and explains.

The cat food has arrived by the time he gets off the phone, with Hank promising to be at the apartment within the hour. Wade tries to relax as he rips open the bag and dumps a portion of the foul-smelling kibble into Mary Puppins' spare food bowl. Everything's going to be okay. The best, bluest mind in the world is on the case, if Hank can't fix it no one can — and he can. He fucking has to.

Al wakes up and eats a few pieces of toast and settles into her armchair to start on the next commission for her Etsy knitting shop (she advertises her blindness like a gimmick, and people buy; good on her), seeming entirely unconcerned about the little monster that is hopefully still prowling the apartment somewhere and hasn't gotten into the vents. Wade leaves Mary Puppins in Al's lap for safekeeping, then goes into the kitchen to sit cross-legged on the table while he stares at the food bowl, waiting for Hank to arrive or the cat to skulk in, whichever happens first. Wade feels jittery, and increasingly fretful.

What if the cat's hurt? he starts to wonder, animosity fading. He really does like cats — just, not as much as dogs. Not as much as Logan. But what if the cat tried to hide underneath something and got stuck? What if it's lost? It's so tiny, and so is the apartment, but they're practically hoarders and there's so much shit piled up everywhere. Mary Puppins never gets stuck or lost in it, but the cat is smaller even than her, and nowhere near as round. What if it found some forgotten stash of drugs, ate them and got sick?

Wade brings a hand to his mouth and starts gnawing at his nails, struck with guilt. It's just a little cat.

He's just a little cat.

As if summoned to crush Wade's softening heart, the cat darts into the kitchen and hisses loudly at Wade in passing, flashing all its sharp teeth, as it charges at the food bowl like it's the baby gazelle to its lion.

"You know what? Nevermind, I no longer feel bad for you." Wade scowls when the cat turns back to glare hard at him before it starts to eat, as if to make sure he's aware of all the hatred it harbors for him. "Give me back my peanut, you little shit."

The cat stays crouched low as it eats, eyes fixed on Wade in a continued wide, slit-pupilled glare, its ears flattened, its tail stiff behind it. It's eating quickly, almost frantically. It was hungry. Maybe a few slices of bologna weren't enough. Wade softens, again, helplessly.

"Is that good?" he asks, as if the cat can answer. "It smells kind of rancid, but you seem to like it."

The cat's tail twitches. It takes another huge bite.

"Logan?" Wade's voice trembles a little, though he tries to keep it steady. He leans forward, staring into the cat's eyes, straining to catch a glimpse of something familiar. "Can you hear me, peanut, are you in there? I'm sorry that bitch did this to you, I'm gonna hunt her down and make her sorry as soon as you're better. We'll do it together. We — we have lots of stuff to do together, y'know." Wade sniffles, rubs at his stinging eyes. "Like, I have to finish showing you Star Wars, and you have to start opening up to me, and we have to complete our enemies-to-friends arc, we've been working on that for a while. And, crazy idea, but who knows, maybe when that's done we can start —"

There's a knock on the door, and the cat splits like a bat out of hell, gone in a gray flash.

"Fuck!" Wade clambers down off the table, stumbling toward the door. "I'm coming!"

"Good morning, Wade." Hank is carrying a briefcase and wearing a cheerful, less than reassuring expression when Wade yanks open the door. Hank steps inside, barely fits his furry blue bulk through the doorway. "Where is Logan?"

"I — I don't know!" Wade says, overwhelmed, and gestures wildly to the empty food bowl. "He was right there a second ago and then he disappeared! I'm gonna have to search the apartment!"

"Have you been crying?" Hank asks in a softer tone.

"Have I —? No!" Wade quickly scrubs his face dry. "Maybe I'm allergic to cats, I don't know. Do you wanna set up your equipment or whatever while I find him?"

"Equipment? No need." Hank lays his briefcase on the kitchen table and pops it open, then produces two vials, one with a Q-tip inside. "I'll just need samples of his saliva and fur, and I should be able to develop a cure with relative ease back at the mansion. We X-Men have reversed similar transformations many times in the past."

We X-Men. Wade refrains from rolling his eyes only because he's too busy gasping with relief. "Oh, thank fuck!" he says.

"You said it was a witch?" Hank asks. "Can you give me any more identifying information than that? I know I promised this would stay between us, but I should still alert the team to this threat."

"Nope, nuh-uh, that's all I know. She's just a nameless, faceless, chronically underdeveloped villain lady with vague powers who the author put zero thought or effort into," Wade says. Her ass is his — and her ass is dead, as soon as Logan's himself again. Damned if Wade’s going to let the X-Losers give that bitch an undeserved redemption arc.

"Right." If Hank doesn't believe Wade, he's merciful enough not to push further. He sets the vials down and extracts a small plastic baggy from the briefcase next, full of what appear to be crushed green herbs. He offers it to Wade. "Here, this may help to entice him."

“Dude.” Wade gawks at Hank. "Yeah, Logan likes to smoke, but I don't think cats can —"

"It's catnip," Hank says flatly, giving the baggy a shake.

"Oh! That makes more sense." Wade giggles, takes the baggy and sets out on his search.

After an embarrassing half hour of pacing around the apartment, shaking the catnip baggy and calling, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty! Come on out, you little fucker!" getting laughed at every time he passes by Al's armchair, he finds Logan holed up under his bed. Along with a sizable cat turd.

"Oh, you absolute cunt." Wade's on his hands and knees, glaring at the pair of wide green eyes that glare right back out at him from the darkness under the mattress. It's actually kind of eerie. "I can't believe you shit under my bed, and after I bought you food. Literally the least you could do is shit under Al's bed."

The cat hisses, but seems to reconsider its aggression when it catches a whiff of the catnip. Its ears perk with interest, and it shuffles forward a few inches.

"That's right, I'm packing. You want some?" Wade shakes the baggy coaxingly. "C'mon, it's yours, all you gotta do is come out from under there and let Hank do his thing. Then you can trip cat balls all day for all I care. Hell, you can be zonked the whole time you're here, until Logan comes back. That'd probably make things easier for me."

The cat skulks out from under the bed, watching Wade warily, eying the baggy like an addict eyes a fix. Like Logan eyes bottles of whiskey.

"Here, have a taste." Wade takes a pinch of the dried leaves and drops it on the floor, then sits back and watches with a small, helpless smile as the cat devours it. The cat seems immediately less agitated, looking up at Wade now with half-lidded eyes, straight ears and a relaxed tail. The homicidal urges seem to have been quelled, for now. "Damn, this must be some strong stuff." Wade marvels at the power of kitty cannabis.

It's actually a little funny, and depressing, because Logan gets this way when Wade brings home the good stuff; he forgets some of his rage and loses most of his attitude and finally just chills. He sits and grins and hangs out with Wade and Al for a while, until he comes down. It's nice.

This is less nice. Dropping his smile, Wade remembers the mission and grabs the cat, who only squirms and bites a little while Wade carries it back to the kitchen.

"Demon cat has been successfully drugged," Wade announces to Hank, who is already standing and staring wide-eyed at the cat that used to be Logan. "I can keep that catnip stuff, right? Shit was super effective."

"Oh, my stars and garters," Hank breathes, as the cat hisses lowly at him, tense as a coiled spring in Wade's arms. Wade suspects that, if not for the calming influence of the catnip, it would fly at Hank with its claws out. "Logan, my boy, is that you?"

Predictably, the cat just hisses again.

"I honestly don't think so," Wade says, sighing when the cat claws his cheek. The catnip may be starting to wear off. "You should've seen how it was mauling the shit out of me last night. It wouldn't have done that if it was Logan — I mean, it is Logan, I saw the transformation happen myself, it was some horrifying fucking body-horror shit, I'm scarred for life. But he's not driving this thing. No way."

"Hmm. I'm not so sure." Hank inches closer to the cat, peering intently at it. It bristles against Wade's chest.

"Yeah, well, I am." Wade tightens his hold on the cat. Hank doesn't heal like him. "You should probably just hurry up and get your samples if you don't want your eyes scratched out —"

"’To me, fair friend, you never can be old,’" Hank murmurs, as he slowly reaches his hand out to the cat. Wade just hopes it's too intimidated by Hank's much larger claws to bite. "’For as you were when first your eye I ey'd, such seems your beauty still.’"

"Is that a poem or something?" Wade snorts. "I don't know much poetry, I mostly just read porn. But I do know you're about to get your hand mauled, even with the drugs —"

Hank strokes the cat's head with two giant blue fingers, and to Wade's shock, the cat doesn't bite. It recoils against Wade's chest, glares balefully at Hank, still tense and displeased — but it doesn't lash out. Maybe it's not so much of a monster after all.

"Oh." Wade's jaw drops.

"Logan, old friend," Hank begins, soft and careful and holding the cat's eyes, as if he really is speaking directly to Logan. "I am very sorry this happened. Wade and I are going to help you, there is no need to despair. I will undo this curse and restore you to your proper body as quickly as possible, I will not rest until it is done, and in the meantime Wade will look after you here. No harm will come to you, you have my word."

"Uh — what he said," Wade stammers, startled and roused by this promise. He looks down at the scruffy little cat in his arms, its fur the same gray as Logan's hair, its eyes the same green as Logan's. It stares back at Wade, and for a second, their eyes locked, Wade wonders —

The cat hisses and smacks him across the face. Its claws stay sheathed, but that's probably more a result of it being under the influence than not wanting to hurt Wade.

"Now," Hank continues, while Wade recovers from the bitch slap and the crushing disappointment, addressing Logan, "I just need to collect two samples. It will only take a moment, and you will not feel any pain."

With the way the cat yowls and thrashes and bites, apparently now sober and furious for it, you'd think it was being tortured. Hank just lightly cards his claws through the cat's fur until a tuft of hair comes loose, then very gently cups its face and swabs its mouth with the Q-tip. Wade tanks most of the bites and scratches, and tries not to feel too bad when the cat screams as if in pain — because really, it's fine.

"All done! Thank you for your patience, my boy." Hank steps back and loads the vials into his briefcase, only barely out of breath. Wade sets the cat down immediately, panting and with his face almost as slashed up as it was last night. Fucking adamantium claws.

"Ouch," Wade whines, while the cat takes off in a sprint. Distressingly, it seems to be headed back toward Wade's bedroom.

"Don't take it to heart, Wade," Hank soothes. He picks a napkin off the kitchen table and hands it to Wade; Wade uses it to wipe the blood off his face. One of the worst cons of his healing factor: the wounds close quickly enough, but the blood doesn't disappear. Makes cleanup very inconvenient. "Logan is prone to memory loss, you know. Perhaps the trauma of this transformation led his mind to cloud itself once more."

Wade falters at this. "Fuck," he says. "I didn't even think about that. So you think he actually is the cat, except he's been brainwashed, so he doesn't know he's the cat? Or he doesn't know he's not a cat? This is complicated."

And Wade is an asshole.

"Such are our lives," Hank says, sounding far too chipper for the terrible magnitude of all this. He wasn't kidding about having handled shit like this before. He lays one massive blue hand on Wade's shoulder and squeezes lightly. "I'll call you when I've synthesized the cure, and notify you of any complications as they arise. I don't foresee any problems, however; it shouldn't take me more than a few weeks."

"A few weeks?" Wade's eyes bulge, heart plummeting. "I'm gonna need a lot more cat drugs."

Hank chuckles. "You are going to need more cat food, and toys, and all the necessary supplies. Don't worry about costs, you can return it all once Logan is himself again." He heads for the door, but pauses to add, "Oh, and you mustn't forget a litter box! One of the most important parts of cat-keeping, as I understand it."

Wade puts his head in his hands. He has weeks of "cat-keeping" ahead of him, and the cat who probably actually is Logan is rightfully pissed at him, and he's generally fucked. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck —

After a quick freakout, he hurries to his bed to extend an olive branch. And more catnip, if necessary.

"Hey, uh — Logan?" He kneels beside the mattress again, after a sheepish peek confirms that Logan and his wary green eyes are indeed lurking under there. "Sorry about all that, I know you hated it. You made sure I knew you hated it. And sorry for thinking of you as 'the cat' and 'it', that was kind of gross and dehumanizing in hindsight." Wade sighs, drops down to sit on his ass and lean against the bedframe. "I was just being dumb and bitter that you don't remember me, I guess, but that's okay. I get it. Maybe I'm kind of traumatized, too. I watched you get turned into a fucking cat, dude. It was grotesque." Wade cringes at just the memory, where it's seared into his brain. "And the way you screamed..."

And Wade just stood by uselessly, terrified and trying to hold Logan even as his body shrunk and his bones rearranged, while that bitch laughed at them and disappeared. For a while there, Wade really thought Logan was dying — but then there was the cat, thrashing around inside Logan's shirt. So, really, what right does Wade have to be disappointed? At least Logan's alive in some form. At least it's not permanent.

"You're my best friend." Wade sniffles. He's overflowing, so he might as well pour his heart out. "I never want to lose you. I fucking love you, and yes, I am only admitting that in the hopes that you won't remember it when you're human again. You'd butcher me."

There's a slight shuffling noise from under the bed. Wade keeps his breathing steady and tries not to make any sudden moves, doesn't want to startle Logan if he's on his way out. The poor little guy must be so frightened, he must feel so small and alone in a huge, strange world. And Wade hasn't made it any easier so far. His throat tightens.

"I'm gonna take care of you," he promises, with his whole soul. "You can bite and scratch me all you want, I'm done being a selfish little bitch about this. I'm going to the pet store right the fuck now and getting all the cat supplies the internet tells me you need, and you're gonna be okay. I'm a pretty good pet parent, you've seen me in action with Mary Puppins, so you know you've got nothing to worry about." Wade perks up. "And Hank'll be behind the scenes the whole time whipping up a cure. We've —"

Logan slinks out from under the mattress suddenly and glares up at Wade. Wade isn't offended when Logan hisses at him.

"We've got this," Wade finishes, smiling down at Logan's scruffy little cat face. His tiny nose is pale pink, and the insides of his tiny ears; probably the pads of his tiny paws, too. Wade's just now noticing how cute he is.

Not quite as cute as human Logan, but cute nonetheless.

Logan stalks in a circle around Wade, pink nose twitching, and Wade understands that he's come out for another catnip fix. Wade is happy to provide.

"Here you go, peanut, you've earned it!" He pulls the baggy from his pocket and sprinkles some more catnip onto the floor for Logan. He's on it immediately, his posture relaxing as he laps it up. "Who knows," Wade muses, grinning widely as he watches, "maybe before this whole thing is over I'll get you to like me without having to bribe you with drugs."

He's still working on that, with human Logan.

So Wade goes to the pet store, after announcing to Al and Mary Puppins that Logan has been medicated and is no longer a threat to their safety. Wade gets all the necessities, plus a bunch of non-necessities (he's always gazed longingly at all the adorable toys in the cat aisle while shopping for Mary Puppins), and returns home to set everything up, doing his best to maintain a hopeful, positive mental attitude. Everything is going to be okay; he whispers this over and over to himself, as he fills Logan's personal food and water bowls and assembles Logan's litter box, as he places Logan's soft cat bed in the living room and lays out all of Logan's toys, as he reaches under his bed to clean up the cat turd and amenably endures Logan attacking his arms until he's done. Logan stays holed up under Wade's bed throughout all this, but the next morning Wade finds Logan's food and water bowls empty and a text from Hank informing him that the cure is off to a promising start, and Wade doesn't feel good, exactly, but he feels okay. Everything and everyone is okay.

Or, they will be. Soon.

Things get slightly better than okay when Logan starts venturing out from under Wade's bed in broad daylight, without Wade having to bust out the catnip to tempt him. Wade stops trying to pet Logan after the first few times, when Logan bristles and hisses and retreats back under the bed, and just lets him roam undisturbed, instructing Al to do the same. Mary Puppins is surprisingly willing to leave Logan alone as well, after a tense first face-to-face encounter during which she sniffed curiously at him and he hissed cautiously at her and Wade nearly tripped in his frantic rush to scoop Mary Puppins up and separate them. For a few days Logan is like a little cryptid, one who silently wanders the shadows of the apartment and swiftly disappears if anyone dares to acknowledge him. Wade misses human Logan, but must concede, again, that this isn't so different.

Logan seems healthy, if not happy. He always eats all the food Wade puts in his bowl, and his ribs are no longer visible through his fur. After further research, Wade switches to a fancy brand of wet cat food and makes sure Logan eats three helpings a day; it's more expensive, and messier, but it's supposed to be better for him than kibble. Wade makes sure Logan's water bowl, like Mary Puppins', is never empty. Wade cleans out Logan's kitty litter every day without complaint. He checks the layout of Logan's toys almost every hour, for signs that Logan tried playing with any of them, and gets a ridiculous spark of delight upon finding any of them even slightly out of place. Because that means Logan must've batted at them with his tiny paws, or nudged them with his tiny nose, or maybe even gnawed on them with his tiny needle teeth. Wade considers setting up a hidden camera over them, to catch Logan in the act of playing and treasure the footage forever.

But Logan's still a feral little thing, and he still bunks under Wade's bed every night like the world's cutest (yet deadliest) monster. He seems hugely unimpressed with his cat bed. Wade was restless and worried the first few nights, knowing Logan was lurking down there, as was Mary Puppins, but by now she's gotten used to Logan's scent in the bedroom and Wade's begun to find comfort in Logan's presence. Now Wade giggles helplessly with every sweet little shift and snuffle and sneeze he hears from under his mattress, and starts saying goodnight to Logan, too, while he's cuddling Mary Puppins to sleep.

"Night-night, Logan," he says tonight through a yawn, and kisses Mary Puppins twice to make up for not being able to kiss Logan. Logan's been a cat for a week now, and Wade has decided to separate cat Logan from human Logan, insofar that it's okay to coo baby-talk at him and sneak pictures of him and think of him, privately, as Wade's (temporary) new fur baby. Human Logan would skewer Wade for any one of those offenses, understandably, but cat Logan's just a little guy. "See you in the morning, peanut. Maybe you'll let me give you a little hug."

Logan doesn't let Wade hug him in the morning, but he does start tailing Wade around the apartment, abandoning the shadows in favor of becoming Wade's shadow. For the next two days Logan stalks and stares at Wade relentlessly, though he shies and backs off every time Wade pats his lap or otherwise tries to coax Logan closer.

"C'mon, kitty cat! It's okay, c'mere!" Wade calls, sitting on the couch and desperately trying to convince Logan to jump up onto his lap. Logan hangs back by the far wall, staring at Wade but keeping his distance. His posture seems neutral, according to guides Wade's read online recently, alert but not tense. Wade would offer a catnip bribe to sweeten the deal, but they're all out; Wade will have to restock the next time he's at the pet store, maybe tomorrow. "Come to me, baby, let me give you a cuddle! Just one!"

Al snorts, knitting in her chair with Mary Puppins in her lap. "Unbelievable," she says. "A week ago you were crying about how the cat was an evil demon that ate Logan or something, and now you're calling him baby. He's gonna kill you when he's himself again, by the way."

"He won't, 'cause you're not gonna tell him," Wade says mildly, and holds out his arms to Logan, who hasn't moved. "Lo!" A nickname seems like a good way to distinguish cat Logan from human Logan. "I see you over there, baby! C'mon, please? I just want to give my little kitty some love!"

Logan just sits primly on the carpet and starts licking his tiny paw with his tiny pink tongue, then scrubbing it over his tiny pink ears, blessing Wade with a rare glimpse of his tiny pink toe beans.

"Al," Wade says, suppressing a squeal, "I cannot express to you in words how motherfucking cute that cat is."

"Mm." Al sighs. "How's that cure coming along?"

"The cure?" Wade manages to tear his eyes away from Logan, snapped out of his cuteness trance. "Oh, uh, yeah, it's coming along okay. Hank texted me yesterday and said he was making good progress."

Al nods. "So it'll just be another couple weeks, that's not too bad."

"Yeah, I — I guess." Wade feels a strange, sinking stroke of depression, for some reason, and tenses to stand, wanting to retrieve Mary Puppins from Al's lap and cuddle her until he feels better —

And then, like the tiniest, fuzziest miracle, Logan leaps up into Wade's lap. Wade gasps, frozen with his hands hovering carefully over Logan, not wanting to make the wrong move and startle him, and he stares intently at Wade. He stands on Wade's thigh with his eyes wide open and his pupils rounded and his ears perked and his tail up straight — good signs all around, Wade knows.

"Oh my god," Wade gasps, thrilled. "Hey, baby, look at you! I don't think you've ever been this close to me without biting me, this is amazing. Do you want me to pet you, is that it? Kitty wants some cuddles?" These past couple of days, Logan has stared especially intently at Wade while Wade cuddled Mary Puppins; maybe Logan wants a share of the love. But Wade doesn't touch Logan yet, doesn't want to ruin this and send Logan sprinting back under the bed. "Al," Wade whispers. "He's on me."

Al just snorts. Mary Puppins makes a small, unusually growl-like noise, and Wade will smother her with snuggles later for her patience — but right now, he'd need a crowbar to pry his attention away from Logan.

"I'm gonna give you a little stroke now, okay?" Wade inches one hand closer to Logan's back, very slowly. Logan doesn't tense. "It's not gonna hurt, I'll never —"

Without hesitation, Logan sits on Wade’s thigh and presses his flank into Wade's palm. Wade doesn't hesitate, either, just acts on the gushing, pleading instinct to wrap Logan in his arms, cradle Logan close to his chest and pet gently all over Logan's sweet little head, his soft fluffy cheeks and the warm, velvety bases of his ears. Wade's definitely moving too fast, would more than deserve a claw-swipe for this, but Logan doesn't seem to take offense. He sort of melts in Wade's lap, nuzzling his head into Wade's touch.

"You're so fucking soft." Wade's crying a little; he thought he'd never get to run his fingers over Logan's little kitty ears, not cat Logan's actual kitty ears or human Logan’s cowlicks, but here they are. And Logan's not fighting Wade, doesn't seem at all uncertain about his decision to turn to cat putty in Wade's arms. "Thank you, thank you, holy shit, this is the best moment of my entire life —" Logan gives Wade a tiny headbutt, bumps his fuzzy head against Wade's chest in a way that means, Wade remembers from a cat care article, he's claiming Wade as part of his family. Wade really sobs at this, low and splintered, because all he's wanted for so long is to be Logan's family, to be accepted as such.

A rattling, precious rumble sounds from Logan as Wade strokes up and down the fluffy nape of his neck, and his eyes are loving little slits when he flops down to lie across Wade's lap. He's purring. Wade leans over Logan, honored and sniffling and devoting all his energy to petting Logan, to finding all the spots that feel best for Logan.

"He — he's letting me pet him," Wade whimpers, and sobs again when he finds that rubbing behind Logan's ears just so makes his purr deepen. "Al, he loves me. He really loves me."

Al makes a soft, crushed noise as she listens. One hand is cupped over her mouth when Wade manages to glance up at her through his tears, the other soothing Mary Puppins, who squeaks out another rare little growl. "Oh, Wade..."

But Wade can't keep his eyes or mind or heart off Logan for longer than a second, and is immediately back to fawning body-and-soul over him. Wade cradles Logan like a fuzzy little baby, tucks Logan snug against his chest and does his best to absorb all the deep, addictive vibrations of Logan's purr, this beautiful evidence of Logan's happiness. Wade's never seen Logan this happy, and to think it's because of Wade...

"I love you," Wade chokes out, his voice thick with tears and relief. Enraptured, he watches Logan's slitted eyes slowly slip all the way closed, rubs worshipfully behind Logan's precious little ears, soaks up every subtle hitch and rumble of Logan's purr with greedy eagerness. Logan falls asleep like this; he's clearly feeling so warm and safe in Wade's arms, so content to be held, his love easy and uncomplicated the way human Logan's never could be. Wade dares to press a light kiss between Logan's ears, and Logan doesn't bite or claw or punch him for it. Logan nuzzles into it.

Wade holds and cuddles and kisses Logan until he wakes from his nap, then carries him to the kitchen to stuff him full of treats.

Everything changes.

In the following days, Wade learns that he vastly prefers to be carrying Logan than not, and that Logan feels the same way. So Wade carries Logan all around the apartment with him, either cradled to his chest or hugged on his shoulder; he's Wade's perfect little baby either way, purring and nuzzling and never resisting Wade's cuddles. Wade cuddles Logan constantly, more than even Mary Puppins would tolerate, but Logan seems to love it, if his pleased slow-blinks and contentedly kneading paws are any indicator. Wade buys a cat sling the next time he's at the pet store and reaps the mountainous rewards, gets to keep Logan strapped to his chest always, even when he needs his hands free. Al thinks it's ridiculous. Wade feels as if he's finally found and reattached a missing vital organ.

Logan doesn't always want to be held, though; he also loves to gaze out windows and roll around in patches of sunlight and explore his toys, which he plays with openly now. Wade loves playing with Logan, laughs so hard he nearly cries at the way Logan pounces and swats and snaps his teeth at his toys. He's so adorable, he blows Wade's mind. His favorite toys end up being a long multicolored feather on a stick that Wade gets to flick around for him to chase, and a soft squeaky squirrel that seems to appeal to his tiny predator instincts. Wade thinks everything about Logan is perfect, down to the last crooked whisker.

Mary Puppins is obviously a bit jealous of the new baby, but Wade smothers her with kisses and thoroughly reassures her that she'll always be his precious little princess. It's just that Logan's his precious little prince now, and that's okay; he has enough love to go around.

Tonight, a miracle. As Wade is kissing Mary Puppins goodnight and wishing sweet dreams to Logan where he's tucked away under the bed like always — he shocks and delights Wade by jumping onto the mattress. Wade snatches Logan up to be hugged and kissed and praised as he deserves. Mary Puppins whimpers unhappily.

"Aww, it's okay, sweetheart," Wade soothes her, with his cheek squished to Logan's fluffy head. "Little Lo's finally ready for sleepy-time cuddles, isn't this exciting?"

She just huffs, boggling at Logan in a way that reads to Wade as less than welcoming. Poor girl. She's mostly been ignoring Logan lately, even when he comes close to peer curiously at her, but he's only done that once or twice ever. Wade gives Logan a kiss between the ears and makes up his mind; it's time for his babies to start loving each other as much as he loves them.

"C'mere, princess," Wade coaxes as he lays Logan down in his lap. Logan's just a melted wad of cat putty, limp and perfectly content to sprawl out on his back, exposing his fluffy little tummy to Wade's stroking fingers. Wade was beside himself the first time Logan flopped over and presented his tummy for pets, struck by the inconceivable amount of trust Logan had given him. "Come cuddle with the kitty! You love Logan, remember? He's the same now, just smaller and softer and with precious itty bitty paws just like yours." And, as a cat, Logan's infinitely less likely to grumble and scowl and push Mary Puppins away.

She hesitates and hangs back for a moment, then waddles over to Wade's lap and sniffs at Logan. He doesn't tense or seem at all inclined to cover his tummy. Instead, he chirps to her as if in greeting and bats gently at her head with one precious fluffy paw. She snorts.

"See?" Wade coos, scritching Mary Puppins' little afro with one hand and rubbing Logan's little tummy with the other. Logan starts to purr, rumbling and squirming happily in Wade's lap. It's easy to get Logan to purr these days, but it still delights Wade down to his bones every single time. It's his favorite sound in the multiverse, bar none. "Lo loves you, and I love you both, so there's no need for jealousy. I have two hands and two arms, enough for everyone."

It takes a little more cooing and coaxing, and finally Wade just has to scoop Mary Puppins up and cuddle her together with Logan in his lap, but then they're the adorable besties they were always meant to be. Logan hugs her neck with his fuzzy little arms and licks her face with his pink little tongue, and she curls up against him with an appeased sigh. Wade snaps a barrage of pictures with his phone, barely managing to stifle his squeals at the sheer sweetness of it all, then settles down to sleep with them both bundled on his chest, out like little lights.

Wade wakes up to Logan, who apparently prefers sleeping curled around Wade's head and so relocated to Wade's pillow at some point in the night, slapping Wade in the face with his tail. Wade just grins and turns to nuzzle Logan's fluffy side.

He's never slept better. Not even finding a new text from Hank dims his bright, beaming mood, though it comes close:

Another week at the most, my friend :) Hang in there!

The next week passes unfairly fast, flies by on a gust of fun and contentment. Despite Al's not-unjust protests, Wade buys more cat toys and treats and even some furniture, a simple scratching post and a less simple towering cat tree with ten levels, featuring different platforms and hideouts and play areas for Logan to explore. Logan loves it, spends hours rubbing up against it to claim it as his own, and makes a game of camping out on the highest level and pouncing down onto Wade's shoulders whenever Wade walks past. Wade always makes sure to kiss and cuddle Logan thoroughly before setting him back on his tree, or sometimes, if he's slow-blinking and yawning and obviously exhausted from playing, Wade will just slip him right into his sling so he can nap tucked against Wade's chest. It's amazing.

With Mary Puppins won over, Al is the only one who remains resistant to Logan's kitty cat charms — or so Wade thinks, until one day when he returns from Mary Puppins' afternoon walk and finds Al cradling Logan in her lap on her armchair, in a calm, familiar way that leads Wade to suspect she does this every time he leaves the apartment. He creeps silently in the doorway, grinning as he watches. Al has Logan wrapped up in a blanket she knitted and cradled to her chest like a newborn, rubbing behind his ears while he squints lovingly up at her and purrs so loudly she didn't notice Wade and Mary Puppins coming in.

It's all unspeakably precious, and Wade fumbles for his phone, needing to immortalize this moment in his camera roll —

"We're really gonna miss you when you're gone, y'know," Al tells Logan, giving Wade pause. Her voice sounds thick and choked. "Especially Wade, he'll be... Oh, but you won't really be gone." She sniffs, bends down to kiss Logan's pink little nose. He gives her chin a gentle headbutt. "You'll still be here, you'll just go back to being yourself. You'll go back to snapping at Wade for trying to be your friend. You'll go back to crawling home in the middle of the night reeking of booze and misery and blood. But, actually..." Al sighs. "I don't think that's you, Logan, that sad, cold man who doesn't let anyone close. No, I think that's just who you wish you were, and the real you is a little more like this. But you're ashamed of that, aren't you? Bet you've spent your whole life keeping that hidden." She gives him another kiss while he dozes, so small and sweet and innocent to all this. "I'm sorry."

Wade gasps, scrubs the tears from his cheeks.

Hank texted Wade with another positive update this morning, about how it won't be much longer until the cure is ready, and Wade is in desperate need of a distraction. So after breakfast he straps Mary Puppins and Logan into their respective harnesses and leashes (he bought Logan's last week, but hasn't tried them out yet; Logan is a surprisingly good sport about it), coaxes Al into coming along, and takes the whole family out for a walk through the nearby park. Logan only tolerates the harness and leash until they get to the sidewalk, when he bristles and shies and wraps his arms around Wade's leg. But that's okay, Wade came prepared. He quickly scoops Logan up into his sling, hugs and kisses and rocks him until he settles down, and they continue on their way.

"This is nice," Al says, when they've chosen a bench in the shade of a tall tree to rest on. She lifts Mary Puppins into her lap. "How's the kitty, is he okay?"

"Mhmm. He'll be fine." Wade smiles down at Logan where he's tucked snugly into the sling, all but hidden between the soft stretchy fabric and Wade's chest, except for those bright green eyes peering up at Wade. Logan's still a little tense, faced with the big loud world, but he relaxes when Wade rubs behind his perked ears and presses a kiss to the top of his fluffy head. "The baby's feeling a little overwhelmed, is all. He's used to just watching the world through the window."

Al reaches over with the hand that isn't petting Mary Puppins, strokes her palm over Logan's back through the sling. He relaxes further in Wade's arms. "Does he really think this is the first time he's ever been outside?” she asks lightly, a little sadly.

"Well, he was outside when it happened," Wade says, though he hates to think about that night, Logan's tortured screams, the nightmare that made this dream possible. "But... I don't know, maybe."

Her face twists, and she doesn't speak again. They sit here for an hour, and Wade spends every minute of it cuddling Logan close, peppering his sweet little face with kisses, whispering to him about how good and brave he's being, that Wade will keep him safe forever. He seems to have no desire whatsoever to climb down and explore the park; he's content to just curl up in his sling and nuzzle Wade's chest as he drifts toward a nap, purring softly as Wade massages his head. The little angel's gotten so spoiled. Wade catches himself before he can coo to Logan that it's okay, they'll try again some other day.

They're rapidly running out of days. Today marks the end of Logan's third week as a happy, healthy, loved little cat. Wade is struck by a wave of nauseous guilt, with the realization that he's dreading getting human Logan back.

But what is Wade supposed to do, reject the cure? Tell Hank nevermind? Hey, so, about that, Hank... After careful consideration I've decided that Logan's better off staying a cat forever, 'cause as a cat he can't self-destruct or push me away anymore. He lets me love him. Please don't tell the other X-Men? It's tempting, but Hank wouldn't understand, and it wouldn't be fair to Logan — to human Logan who has a human life to get back to, however miserable. Wade can't deny him that; he deserves the chance to figure his shit out the normal way, to connect with his feelings and his friends and his daughter. He's been cold to all of them, kept his distance, but maybe that will change now, maybe he'll be better for his time as a cat. Maybe the love Wade gave him will fix something, inside.

Or maybe he'll just feel humiliated and hate Wade even more for it.

Wade gets the call the next night, as he's settling into bed with Logan and Mary Puppins, giggling as he watches them roll around with each other over the mattress. His smile drops right off his face, his heart sinks down through the floor, and he answers his phone despite the protests of every tensed muscle in his body. He flinches at Hank's bright tone, and he's sobbing when he hangs up, the words ringing like a death sentence in his ears. I'll be there first thing in the morning, Hank said cheerfully. I can only imagine how relieved you must be.

Logan and Mary Puppins huddle close to Wade while he falls apart, whimpering with innocent concern, and are sweet enough to let him cuddle them under the blankets all night. Wade fights against sleep, wants to stay awake and memorize every detail of Logan's precious little face and fluffy gray fur and soft, steady breathing while he still can, but in the end he's too exhausted from crying. He blinks and then it's morning. He blinks and then it's over.

Wade doesn't know what he expected. Logan is groaning and disoriented when he wakes naked and cradled in Wade's arms on the living-room floor, frowning up at everyone huddled around him, at Wade, Hank, Al and Mary Puppins. Babbling goodbyes and apologies, Wade tipped the serum down Logan's throat and held him close while he whimpered and thrashed through the transformation, but as soon as he's able Logan staggers to his feet and flees the room. He gets dressed, then flees the apartment, snarling and shaking off Wade's desperate attempts to hold onto him.

Days pass with him gone. Wade cries until his lungs ache. Al barely speaks two words. Every so often Mary Puppins sits at the base of Logan's cat tree and whines, like she's calling for him to come down and play.

Wade spends a lot of time in bed, curled up around his phone and sniffling over pictures of Logan. Maybe Wade collected so many specifically for this purpose, so he'd have something to remember the good times by when they were over. He hugs Logan's toys and wears Logan's empty sling, though they only emphasize the gaping wound in his chest, the missing part of him. He goes on a few listless patrols of the city, though he's more focused on trying to find Logan than busting any crimes. But it's pointless, Logan knows better than anyone how to stay hidden. Wade considers going after that witch instead, but he doesn't have the energy, his fire's all out. Besides, in a backwards sort of way, she kind of gave him the best three weeks of his life.

They're over now. Logan might never come back, in any form.

After a week of this deepening depression, while Wade's wasting away in bed, failing to cry himself to sleep at three a.m., he hears the front door open. Mary Puppins yips excitedly. Wade's heart dares to swell with hope.

But he doesn't get up, doesn't call out. He knows what Logan's like — human Logan — and he hates being fussed over. Wade would probably drive Logan right back out the door, for good this time, if he went in for a hug now. A pair of footsteps move down the hallway, Mary Puppins' eager little paws chasing after Logan's heavy shuffling boots. Wade sniffles and prepares to hear them pass by his door. But the door creaks open.

"Wade?" Logan's voice in the doorway. "You, uh... You up, bub?"

"Yeah." Wade's curled up tight on his side, facing the wall. He can't bear to see Logan's scowling face and know just how little those three weeks meant to him. "There's pizza in the fridge, if you're hungry."

Logan sighs. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Wade doesn't know what to make of this, but he knows better than to get his hopes up. Logan's probably only come back to exact revenge for all those times Wade called him baby. "I guess you'll be wanting to skin me alive now, huh, peanut?"

Another sigh, and then the mattress is shifting as Logan sits down beside Wade, at Wade's feet. Mary Puppins hops up to sit with them, panting happily; she paws at Wade's shoulder as if to say, Look! Logan's back!

Except he's not. Wade's eyes burn, still swollen and sore from all the crying he's already done.

"Why the fuck would I hurt you, Wade?" Logan growls. When Wade just sniffs, Logan says more softly, "No, I'm not. I just... I wanna thank you for takin’ care of me like that, and for callin’ Hank. Without you guys I'd be wanderin’ the streets right now, not knowin’ who the fuck I was, so... Thanks."

"Y-you're welcome," Wade sobs out, breaking apart for the second time today.

The first time was after Al gestured in the vague direction of Logan's cat tree and muttered, It'd be a shame to let all this shit go to waste. Maybe we oughta look into adopting a cat soon.

But Wade doesn't want a cat. All he wants is Logan.

"C'mon, Wade..." Logan lays his hand on Wade's knee, so light and reluctant Wade can barely feel the touch through his sweatpants. It's less than comforting, and the sobs keep pushing up Wade's raw throat. "It's alright. It's over now."

Wade wails helplessly at this, so destroyed he thinks he might die. Logan's right: it's over now. It's never coming back. "I — I'm so sorry," Wade blubbers. He doesn't mean to do this, doesn't even know what he wants from Logan anymore. "But I — I can't help — I miss you." He gasps roughly. "Miss you so much."

"I'm right here, bub." And Logan, not light or reluctant anymore, lies down behind Wade, wraps his arm around Wade's waist and squeezes Wade against his chest. Wade is so startled he stops crying; for a second, he stops breathing altogether. "Fuck, it's okay. I'm back, I've got you."

"Y-you left," Wade whimpers, finally, once he's recovered from the welcome shock of Logan's strong arms and solid chest. The warmth of Logan's breath on the back of Wade’s neck. Logan doesn't smell like smoke or whiskey or blood like Wade feared; he just smells like himself, rich and perfect.

"I... Yeah, sorry." Logan sighs, his nose brushing Wade’s nape. "Guess I just kinda freaked out about things. Needed some time."

"Because — 'cause you hated it?" Wade asks on a terrified whisper. If Logan says yes...

Logan hesitates, shifts his weight, draws a slow breath, then says very softly, as if confiding a secret in Wade's skin, "'Cause I loved it. 'Cause I was happier bein' your cat than I've ever been before in my entire fuckin' life. 'Cause, when I was human again, and all the memories came floodin' back in, I — I knew I'd never be that happy again."

Wade gasps and flips around, so he's facing Logan and can hug Logan closer with all his strength. "Oh my god, peanut!" Wade kisses all over Logan's poor frowning face, frantic with relief, and Logan doesn't fight it, just whines and lets Wade work. "Of course you'll be happy again! Just stay with me, stay here, nothing has to change, not really! We don't have to let this go. Fuck, I won't let it go, not ever. We can take it wherever you want, baby, however you're comfortable, whatever you wanna do.”

"I — I dunno," Logan croaks. He's damp-eyed and flushed when Wade pulls back an inch to cradle his face in careful hands. "I really don't, I — I've never..."

"That's okay, Lo. Shh, it's okay, you're okay." Wade kisses between Logan's eyes. "We'll figure it out together. Just please, promise you'll stay. I need you here, I'm fucking broken without you."

"Okay," Logan whispers, and nuzzles Wade's shoulder, sweet and familiar enough to mend all the cracks in Wade's unbroken heart. "Just — hold me now?"

No force in the multiverse could pry Wade away, so he holds Logan close and closer to his chest, does his best to make Logan feel as secure and supported as possible despite him no longer being small enough to disappear under Wade's hands. Wade pulls the comforter up over them, to cover the parts of Logan his arms can't reach, and sweeps his palms across Logan's back underneath it, using the same slow, soothing patterns as always, just bigger now, with Wade's hands moving over a shirt instead of fur. Logan's muscles melt and go limp after a few minutes of this; his breathing softens and steadies.

"I love you, kitty cat," Wade whispers between kisses, and brings one hand up to experimentally pet Logan's hair, rub behind Logan's ear. "I'll always love you, that's one thing that won't ever change."

Logan's hands knead contentedly at Wade's waist, heavier but no less precious than his paws were; Wade's heart leaps with the sweet rhythm. Logan presses happily into Wade's stroking hands, nudges a gentle headbutt to Wade's chest, narrows his eyes to loving slits, and a beautiful, familiar rumbling (just a little deeper now) fills Wade's ears like the sweetest song he never thought he'd hear again.

It's a purr. Logan's purring.

All the panic and pain of the past week leave Wade completely, washed away by this perfect sound, and he knows in his soul that they're okay. Mary Puppins burrows under the comforter with them, sighing softly, sensing that the worst is over. Al will be so relieved in the morning, when she hears Logan's voice and learns that their kitty's not gone after all.

Logan's right here.