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wagemama-ningyo · 3 months ago

Text

Okay since someone asked me to I'm posting the entirety of my fic here under the cut!

i laugh like me again

Str4b3rryb1tch

Summary:

Wade is resolutely NOT looking at him when he answers, “I found some place to go for every dog except her. I can’t just leave her outside, look at her.” Logan sighs and takes a puff of his cigarette before speaking, “Where are we going to put her?” “I told you he wasn’t gonna go for it, dumbass.” “Can it, granma-” Wade starts on Al, so Logan plants a swift kick near Wade’s ass, “Ow.” Or the one where Logan can't help feeling like he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Notes:

Listen. I wrote this fic in little bursts. It was supposed to be 6k. I don't know how we ended up here, but here we are. I decided to give Logan his own dog because I could, because he deserves to get good things in this world. As a genderfluid nonbinary person, I transed Wade's gender, because he deserves to have that ushy gushy. Anyways I hope y'all like this because I kinda actually like it a lot. Obligatory Hozier lyrics for my first fic in 20 years, and if you recognize me from fanfiction dot net or livejournal, no the fuck you do not. Beta'd by the ever wonderful RockyGetsRolling

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

When Deadpool flounces in the door, Mary Puppins in his arms, Logan trailing in behind him, he calls out, "Al, I brought home a dog!"

Wolverine is just in earshot to hear her mutter, "Dog can't smell any worse than your new girlfriend." As she pets the dog's weird tongue and grimaces.

Flash forward forty five minutes and he's standing in the middle of some drugstore with Red, eyeballing a hundred different kinds of shampoo. Great reminder that he came to this place with the clothes on his back, except not really, because most of his clothes were left back in the void, or shredded, in the case of his suit.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, Wade's too-tight t-shirt pinching at his biceps, and reaches out blindly. Whatever it is should work fine. They hit the body wash next, and Logan mumbles about "just a goddamn bar of soap" before Wade is throwing random bars in their basket and they're checking out.

"We'll get you some big boy clothes in the morning, princess. For now let's get you a shower." Wade turns and makes a suggestive face down the aisle with the cold medicine and Logan wishes now more than ever for a smoke. For being an unkillable, unstoppable mouth of a "hero", Wade Wilson’s life is shockingly domestic, and every minute that Logan spends trailing in behind him makes the mutant feel more and more out of place.

They trek back to the apartment, and stop at a small bodega where Wade grabs a newspaper, a pack of smokes for Althea, a tiny bag of dog food, and has a casual chat with the teenage boy manning the place. Logan stands by silently, feeling twitchier by the minute. He stares blankly at the back of Wade's head, until suddenly he's being asked a question.

"Huh?" He feels like he's snapping back into his body, and then Wade is pulling him by the wrist away from the bodega.

"Oh peanut, we have got to get your hearing checked." But Deadpool doesn't make an attempt to repeat himself, he just keeps yammering on about whatever thoughts pass through his skull and he keeps leading them to the apartment.

They make it back with Logan only feeling slightly like he's been thrust headfirst into a completely different universe, and they head in, dumping their spoils on the kitchen table.

"D' you want some coffee? Al and I drink the bougiest - some shit off brand. You can scrounge in the cabinets, but watch out for the coffee pot, she's a real bitch." Wade gestures in the general direction of the coffee machine, already peeling out of his clothes as he heads for the shower.

Logan, still hesitant to scour the cabinets, finds the coffee, fills up the pot with water at the sink, and sets about brewing a pot in the yellow overhead lighting of the small-ish kitchen. He tries not to think about how out of place he feels, and how very normal everything is all of a sudden. It feels like being dunked in cold water, being able to walk down the street and enter a shop and not be spat on just for existing. There's something about the whole thing that has him feeling on edge.

"Fuck. Goddamn it." The coffee machine IS a bitch, it's sputtering and shooting scalding java all over the counter and Logan, who was standing just a hair too close, pulling him out of his own head. He slams his fist down on the lid and it shifts once, one more good knock and - he's somehow put his fist through the plaster of the wall,

"Oooh, big feelings, Honey badger." Deadpool, clad in an oversized hoodie and some god awful "juicy" sweatpants, shoves him gently out of the way as he un-fucks his fist from the walls shiny new asshole, "You've gotta get the pot on there just right or she turns into the world's meanest spitter. After you, of course."

Logan can feel a twitch near his temple as his blood pressure starts to raise. He takes a deep breath and flexes his hand, silently.

Wade is standing close, so Logan takes a step away, and as he does Wade gives a little 'pat' on his behind, and Logan for a moment isn't sure it actually happened, it went so fast. The twitch in his temple becomes the start of a throbbing headache, so he walks over to the table and sits down while Red gets some mugs from the tiny old dishwasher.

The other man is digging in the fridge for what seems like an eternity before his head pops up and he produces what Logan assumes is milk or cream, before Wade brings everything over to the table that is still covered in bags.

Logan takes his coffee with cream and no sugar, and watches Wade with tired eyes as he pours spoon after spoon of sugar into his mug before adding the world's largest ‘splash’ of cream.

“Barely coffee at that point, bub.” He takes a long pull of coffee into his mouth and sighs, it feels like a thousand years since he’s had a moment to really relax. Wade starts chattering, the one sided conversation bouncing from coffee to a shop two blocks down, and then as Logan is blinking though it all, he realizes he’s been asked another question. “Didn’t catch that.”

Wade cocks his head slightly, “Listen Logie Bear, I know it’s common in guys your age to have some hearing loss, but-”

“Just tell me what you were asking.” He sets the mug down, gut churning, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He watches as Wade licks his lips and fiddles with his cup of coffee.

“Our sleeping arrangement is less than ideal. Al’s got the bedroom and I usually take the couch. It’s a pull out, but it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world.”

Logan nods and takes another deep swig of coffee before answering, “I’ll sleep on the floor, it’s not my place to put you out.”

Wade gives a smile that could be a grin, or a grimace. “Well, sweetness, as kind as that is, that’s actually more dangerous for Al. She needs the floors cleared for the most part. If you don’t mind, we could bunk together.”

He considers the other man for a moment, letting the steam from the two cups trail up between them, “You don’t want me in your bed, Red.”

The noise Wade makes sounds like a choked whimper, and Logan’s brow furrows, “You have no idea how badly, but that’s besides the point. You can’t sleep on the floor and I’m exceptionally cuddly. So now that that’s settled, how about you finish your coffee and get all that incredibly attractive sweat off. The water should be warm enough any time now.”

Logan takes another drink and thinks about what it must be like to flirt with anything with legs,but doesn’t comment on the apparently settled matter. It’s late in the evening, and who is he to look a gift-merc in the mouth? Draining his mug, he stands, before Wade takes the cup from him and smiles, setting it back down on the table.

He makes his way into the bathroom, pulling a towel out from where he had been shown and noting that Wade left his slung over the shower curtain so it wouldn’t mildew while it dried out. As he kicks on the shower and peels out of his too-tight borrowed t-shirt and the remnants of his dirty yellow suit pants, he wonders briefly what would possess him to follow Wade home, and then he steps under the spray and his brain turns off - until he realizes he’s left all the soap on the kitchen table. He glances around the shower and sees a few products, but nothing simple. Conditioners and he thinks there’s a bottle of lube in there but at the point he’s about to holler out for Wade, when mercifully the man comes knocking on the door.

“Hey, peanut, you didn’t take your shampoo. Are you decent?” Logan is suddenly mortified.

“I’m good,” He calls, thankful for the shower curtain barrier as Wade comes in and starts to pass him his new shower products, “Thanks, Red.”

The other man is humming quietly as he passes Logan’s products into the shower, “Need anything else? I'll bring you a change of clothes so that you’re not so nakey.”

If Logan’s hands weren’t full of soap and shampoo he would bury his face in them. Jesus Christ. He sets down a bottle of shampoo, a brick of soap, and some other bottles, before grabbing the shampoo and being pleasantly surprised when the stout pink bottle opens and smells of grapefruit. Not quite what he was expecting when he grabbed it, but whatever. He pours what looks like a decent amount onto his hands, and then pours a little more for good measure - he’s been through hell and he doesn’t want to come out of this shower smelling anything like the human garbage can that he entered as.

He’s scrubbing his scalp as gently as a 400 lb man can scrub anything when he hears Wade come back in and he freezes for a second, “Clothes are on the sink, angel baby.”

The door is closing behind Wade and Logan is breathing again. He doesn’t get why he’s so jumpy, so tense. They went on a two day long killing spree, and walked out the ass end of it just fine, no lasting damage. He feels fucking nervous, like the floor is about to drop out from under him, and given that he’s been to several businesses and met a hand full of people today that were downright nice to him, he can’t tell why. He wishes, for a minute, that he could ask Jean about it. She was always good with the psychobabble bullshit. But his Jean is long gone, and rather fortunately for Logan he doesn’t think he will be going back to the world where he lost her anytime soon.

He steps under the spray and nearly groans when he feels the water rinsing the dirt out of his hair, and picks the bottle up to glance at the label, blinking soap suds from his eyes, forgetting the last time he had such a nice goddamn shower. He isn’t quite sure what exactly ‘clarifying’ shampoo does other than cleaning his hair, but he’s not mad at how clean his head feels. He goes in one more time, just for good measure, with the shampoo. Rinse and repeat, right?

The brick of soap is some square fucking thing, with some fancy ass cardboard label, and he pries it open and starts lathering his body. He knows he’s on borrowed time with the water heater, but he just can’t bring himself to give a single fuck about the fact that the water will run cold any minute now. Whatever the soap is does the job just fine, some kind of grit in the bar really getting into the grime of the last few days.

He picks up another bottle and scoffs, it’s conditioner. Wade went to the trouble of buying it, and somehow put more care into Logan's hair than the man ever has for himself, so he shrugs and uses it, water edging on not-hot to suddenly icey cold and he stops the flow of it to towel off.

The clothes Wade has left are absolutely absurd, a massive, pink t-shirt with red hearts and big bubble letters that reads ‘FUCK’, and Logan throws it back on the sink before finding a comfortable looking pair of (thankfully normal looking) sweat pants. They’re so big that Logan has to pull the strings pretty tightly to keep them up, and he makes a note to ask Wade what the fuck he’s doing with these clothes. He considers for a second before slipping the shirt on, rather than going bare chested and exposed. He might not be all that shy, really, but a little armor never hurt a guy.

Making his way to the living room, he notes that Al and Wade are sitting around a kind of shitty makeshift bed for the dog, cooing at her as smoke from Althea’s lit cigarette wafts through the room.

He clears his throat and announces his presence before making his way over to Althea, “Ma’am. Would you mind if I had a smoke?”

“Go ahead, hot stuff. Numbskull here will smoke ‘em all up anyways so you might as well have one or two.” She laughs humorlessly, gesturing to Wade who balks.

“Yeah and who buys the replacements, Al?” Wade pulls a face that he knows she can’t see, and pulls her hand off the dog’s butt, which she has been trying to feed what looks like a scrap of chicken.

Logan grabs the pack of smokes off the coffee table and notes that Wade has yet another cup of not-quite-coffee half downed. He takes the first puff and instantly feels better, all loose bones and clearer head when he sits down on the ratty couch. Some cooking show is playing on the TV and before he realizes it he’s smoked up the cigarette and relaxed so much he’s passed out on the couch.

It’s dark when Wade shoves at his shoulder and he startles awake, balled fists and scowling - the TV illuminating Wade, his hands up in surrender, “Hey big boy, I just need to pull out the couch. We all can’t pass out where we fall. I need to get all nice and snuggly.”

A brief look around the room and Althea is gone, the TV is much quieter and Mary has abandoned her post of makeshift bed to leave a massive drool-spot in the center of Althea’s chair.

He clears his dry throat, swallows, and heaves himself off the couch so that Wade can get the pull out situated, and heads into the bathroom for a leak.

When he returns a side lamp has been clicked on, the TV clicked off, and Wade and Mary are in the bed, with Wade on the left side, and Mary poised gently on his chest. There’s a pillow on his side of the bed and he shuffles over to the edge of the mattress before peeling back the covers and startling Wade.

“Holy Me we need to get you a bell, kitten whiskers. You really know how to creep up on a guy.” The lamp is on Logan’s side of the bed and he sits down on the edge of the bed which creaks and groans violently in the quiet of the room.

“You need this, bub?” He gestures at the lamp and in the dim light he sees Wade, who is pressing kisses to Mary’s little nose, shakes his head and makes a little ‘uh-uh’ noise.

They’re swathed in darkness and it isn’t long before Logan is once again relaxing enough for sleep.

He shoots up violently, dislodging the dog from his chest where she was licking at his neck and chin in his sleep and into his arms, as he looks around the sun speckled room to find himself alone. There is quiet chatter coming from the kitchen, and he takes a deep breath and pets Mary gently before setting her down on the floor.

Barefoot, he makes his way into the smokey kitchen where Al and Wade and that man from the car lot sit at the table, all nursing mugs of coffee and coffee-adjacent.

“Morning, peaches, Peter was an absolute angel and brought us bagels.” Wade gestures to the counter where a bulky and misshapen paper bag sits dutifully.

There is a coffee mug sitting next to it and Logan picks it up and gives a halfhearted salute to Peter.

“Well I’ve gotta go, I just wanted to stop by and bring breakfast. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, Logan.” Logan hums while he fixes his cuppa and turns to see the most normal of all the people he’s met so far standing.

Wade stands too and glances over at Logan for a moment before walking Peter to the door. When they leave the kitchen they resume a low chatter and they must stay talking at the door for a minute.

“Morning Althea.” Logan is digging in the brown sack for a bagel, grabbing one before turning to sit down.

“Good morning, baby. You're gonna take that boy of yours out today and you’re gonna get you some clothes that don’t make you look like someone’s washed up ken doll.” She digs in her fanny pack for a moment and when she reaches out he meets her half way, she’s pressing a tightly curled up wad of cash into his outstretched hand.

He balks for a minute, “No ma’am I can’t take this-”

“Shh, quiet down, I don’t want him to know. Selfish little shithead will keep you all to himself and I want you to stick around to do chores for me. And anyways you need something nice so that you can find a job.” She folds his fingers over the cash and he feels a curl of shame in his gut for a moment.

“Yes ma'am.” He swallows hard and tucks the rolled up money into the pocket of his pants.

Wade rounds the corner with Mary in his arms and plucks the lit cigarette from Al's fingers before placing it on his lips and depositing Mary in Logan's lap.

“Is my good girl ready for breakfast?! Yes she is. Yes she is!” He breaks out a shallow dish that's clearly been around a while and puts a bit of dog food in it before running it under the tap. “Here, baby.”

He sets the dish down and Mary comes right to him, perfectly trained in the art of sniffing out food. Logan takes a bite of his bagel, which he had been sneaking the dog tiny bites of, and watches.

His head feels clear - clearer, at least, than it did last night - and he’s almost certain that if he plays his cards right he can find a job easily enough. He just has to get out there. That can’t be that hard.

As he tries to convince himself of the ease of finding a job in a new world, he realizes that Wade has been talking to him and feels himself phase in, mid sentence -

“And I think that we can hit a few good thrift stores because contributing to fast fashion is really a fucking disaster, you know?” Logan nods curtly, mouth full of bagel and schmear, “We can pick up some underwear at the supermarket, god knows you can’t share my hello kitty boxers forever.”

Logan hadn’t realized that was what was adorning his borrowed skivvies, but it made sense. Hello Kitty was popular like twenty years back, but with Wade very little would surprise him. Mouth clear, he watched as Althea stood and put the stub of her second smoke out on the table, instead of the ash tray. He winced a little and picked up the butt off the seemingly previously scorched table, if the little burnt-rings had any say about it, and placed it into the ashtray. As Althea made her way out of the room she kicked a bit at Wade’s leg, making Logan tilt his head.

“Ma you don’t have to like it, you have bridge club and we’ve gotta get this man in some actual clothes.” She grumbles and slams through the bedroom door and that seems to be the extent of the conversation with her.

They’re walking down the street, Logan's hands in the far too big pockets of the massive sweatpants, and Wade whistling an obnoxious off-key-something. Wade leads him three streets over, before they find the first place. They pick up a few nicer, although a little worn, flannels - and he gets at least three pairs of really good fitting jeans. The next stop he finds a few t-shirts in his size with no obscene logos on them, and Logan is happy to change into a pair of jeans and a shirt that isn’t blindingly pink.

When they make their way into the supermarket Wade sends Logan to the men's section while he goes his own way, and Logan picks out a package of white tanks, some socks, and two packages of underwear. Wade didn’t exactly tell him where he’d be going, so he loiters for a few minutes before heading to the shoe section of the store.

He tries on a few pairs of plain sneakers, and finally settles on a pretty cheap pair before seeking out the inevitable big ticket item: work boots. The price tag has him wincing, but he knows that it will be a need, he’s only got so much money to work with so he doesn’t think twice about it before he grabs a leather pair that fits well.

As he heads towards the front of the store, he sees Red a few aisles down, and heads towards him. The scarred man is standing at the electronics counter and greets him as he approaches.

“Hi babycakes, did you find what you were looking for?” Wade peers into his basket and Logan feels a bit of heat creep into his ears, “ Ooh you did. I’m getting you all hooked up with a smartphone. Do they have those where you’re from?”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose with the hand that isn’t carrying a pretty full basket and nods, “They have smartphones in Canada, bub.”

Wade wags his eyebrows meaningfully at the teenager behind the counter who chews gum noisily and pays him no mind.

Logan sets his basket down, reaching into his pocket, “Al gave me some money, so-”

“Ooh you’re a sugar baby now, Wolvie?” Wade cackles gleefully, “Keep it for something pretty, I’ve got your shit today.”

There's a bit of a rush in his ears while Red talks him through the phone set up, stopping to ask the teen behind the counter questions here and there. It’s not the best phone on the market but they stop through the aisle and grab a pretty good case for it so that he doesn’t destroy the thing immediately, and then they’re checking out and heading back towards the apartment. Logan doesn’t think he’s ever carried this many bags at once, Wade not taking anything. Logan is even carrying a big overstuffed dog bed under one arm and feels like he looks absolutely ridiculous.

When they get back to the apartment it’s a little early in the evening and Logan feels like he could eat through all of Manhattan. Who the hell knew shopping could starve a man?

Logan doesn’t voice his needs, as Wade shows him where he can put his clothes in the closet in Al’s room, hangers already available. Red fucks off into the kitchen while Logan starts the most mundane task he think’s he’s ever experienced. By the time he’s done the TV is droning random scraps of sound in the living room and Wade’s sitting on the couch flicking through Netflix which keeps playing trailers for random shit.

Logan joins him, grabbing a smoke from the package that’s conveniently placed in the same spot it was last night. He offers one to Red, who shakes his head and really seems to lock into the television. He stays focused before he finally settles on some cartoon. Logan mapping the room, and Wade sitting in the weirdest stretch of silence Logan has ever been in when there’s a knock at the door and Wade shoots off the couch.

When he returns, Wades arms are loaded with bags of takeout, and whatever the fuck is in the two bags smells heavenly, “I ordered Thai. I didn’t know what you would want so I got a little bit of everything.”

Logan grabs a bag from him as he returns to his seat on the couch and they dig into the food, sandwiches and curry and rice passed back and forth between the two of them like the most natural thing in the world.

When they finish, Logan stands and clears up the mess, putting leftovers in the fridge and tossing empty paper containers before snagging the newspaper off the table in the kitchen. He stands there for a minute, looking for any kind of ‘help wanted’s’ or the like. He notes a few, considering them as he makes his way back to the couch.

“What you got there, peanut?” Wade is peering curiously over from his side of the couch and Logan presses the paper over to him.

“Job hunt.” He stares straight ahead, trying not to look as absolutely mortified as he feels. Was existence always this embarrassing?

Wade’s face is unreadable as he looks down at the paper in his hands, “Angel baby, you know you can, like. Take a few days and get adjusted. You’ve been here five minutes.”

Logan clears his throat before he decides to speak, “I’ve gotta do something.”

Red passes the paper back to him and shrugs, “You take the time you need to do that. Don’t feel like you’ve gotta get out there if you’re not ready. Besides, Ma and I need a big strong man around the house. It’s good for morale.”

Wade says the last bit like it’s a punchline but Logan flushes anyway. They don’t talk about it.

That night they’re laying on the pull out, Logan on the edge of sleep, when Red’s phone pings and the mattress dips. Logan lays there blinking in the darkness and listens to the other man quietly gearing up and heading out.

In the morning, Logan wakes slowly, blinking as sunlight streams in through the flimsy curtains. He checks his phone and it’s sometime around nine in the morning. The apartment is quiet, and he wanders from the bed into the bathroom before making his way into the kitchen. It’s still, and he sits down at the table for a moment. His skin feels tight and he rubs a hand over his face before he stands and heads back into the living room.

Logan is fighting tooth and nail with the pull out, trying to close it up when Wade trips into the apartment, red mask peeled up, slurping through a straw at some fluffy looking coffee-approximation. He passes a paper cup to Logan and fucks off into Al’s bedroom before the apartment is bathed in silence again.

It’s a few hours later that he emerges and makes a face at Logan who is sitting, scrolling on his new phone on the (thankfully couch shaped) couch. “Morning, Peaches.”

Wade is wearing a ridiculous moo-moo, it’s covered in surfboards and palm trees, drinking the melted remains of the cup he had been drinking from earlier, and Logan peers up at him for a moment before going back to his scrolling. He’s still got his mask on, rolled up just under his nose.

Wade flounces onto the couch, legs pulled up to his chest, feet towards Logan, and they sit in relative silence while they both scroll through their phones. After a little while, Wade’s head nods and he’s taking a little nap, right there next to Logan.

The next few days go pretty similarly, Wade disappearing every now and again for a stretch of time and then bringing home some kind of ‘treat’. Sometimes it’s a meal, sometimes it’s a few cigars. Logan has pieced together a hellishly worded resume that seems to be more fiction than truth, and he’s put in for a few different jobs that he hasn’t heard back from. There’s a plant shop ad that keeps popping up on his searches, looking for someone who can ‘lift 60+ lbs’ and someone who isn’t afraid to get dirty. Logan figures anything is better than sitting on the couch for the rest of his endless life, so he applies and goes about his day. When his phone pings his heart leaps into his throat for a moment and he takes a beat before he picks it up to check it.

He seemingly nails the interview and they want him to start pretty immediately, so when he tells Wade that night they have some celebratory beers and watch some shit TV.

The next morning Wade hasn’t come home when Logan heads out the door to leave for the day. Training at the plant shop is fairly simple. He doesn’t have to worry about running the register for a few days at least, and he’s working with two teens and a lady that is the shop-mom. It’s a family run business, but they needed someone able to lift the bigger plants and the big bags of soil on a regular basis, enter Logan. He’s not super confident about the plant names, but the girls are able to point out things that he think’s eventually he will remember.

It’s a long day, and wouldn’t you know the door is unlocked when he gets back to the apartment - only, it smells off. Not bad, just off. When he opens the door he is greeted by a rather chaotic sight, Wade sitting on the couch between a massive, scarred up dog on one side, and Mary Puppins on the other. Althea is reclined in her chair, smoking what looks to be her third or fourth cigarette.

His face creases as he toes off his boots and makes his way over to the absolute unit of an animal in his seat, but he doesn’t break the silence in the apartment, Wade staring at him seemingly nervous.

“Hey there, Honey Badger. What were you thinking for dinner?” He blinks up at Logan, as if everything was alright in the world. Logan ignores his question.

“Althea, how are you this evening?” Logan clicks his fingers at Wade, gesturing for him to give up his seat - which, miraculously, works, “And what’s with the dog?”

“Hello sweetie, how was work?” Al holds out her pack of smokes to him, and he takes one and lights it. The rottweiler next to him pants loudly.

Wade snatches up a newspaper from his new seat on the floor and passes it up to Logan, who arches a brow at it, “‘BAD DOGS IN THE POUND: Masked Hero Busts Dog Fighting Ring!’ What the hell, Red?”

Wade is resolutely NOT looking at him when he answers, “I found some place to go for every dog except her. I can’t just leave her outside, look at her.”

Logan sighs and takes a puff of his cigarette before speaking, “Where are we going to put her?”

“I told you he wasn’t gonna go for it, dumbass.”

“Can it, granma-” Wade starts on Al, so Logan plants a swift kick near Wade’s ass, “Ow.”

They sit in silence for a while, smoking and listening to the big dog pant. Wade has deflated, all fake confidence about bringing home a beat up fighting dog gone as his head sinks low and he pouts.

“Let's do Indian for dinner.” Logans says, settling the matter with finality. He’s not a monster, and if they can take in one mean street dog, what’s a second one gonna hurt?

That night, they pull the bed out and Charlotte presses her back against the door to the apartment, laying on her side with her eyes wide open, waiting. Wade’s snuffling quietly in his sleep and Logan can’t help but stare back at the dog. He’s laying on his side when he scoots, shuffling and inching closer to Wade. When his back is pressed a hair's width up against the other man he lets out a low whistle and pats at the mattress in front of him.

Charlotte picks her head up and tilts that big face at him, and he sighs, patting the bed again. Slowly, she gets up off the floor and makes her way over to the pull out. It’s a tight squeeze, but he makes room for her and she lays her head down on the pillow next to him. When he wakes up in the morning he’s sandwiched between two great big idiots, body pressed in between them like one big idiot family. He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep for a while longer.

Logan’s days go much like that, waking up sometimes sandwiched between an idiot and Charlotte, and sometimes with the bed to himself. On days that Wade isn’t home when he goes off to work he takes the girls on their walk and leaves them. He’s always a little sad to leave, Mary is definitely Wade's dog, but Charlotte is all him. Sometimes after walkies, she will hop up on the still unfolded pull out and play bow, trying to initiate play with Mary, who just stares. The first time Logan does a little downshift-crouch and matches her energy, the dog absolutely tears through the apartment, running from the kitchen to the bed and jumping up on her hind legs to push off his chest, and then back and forth again. She runs like she never got the chance to before in her life, and Logan - a sucker, lets her. He’s certain that Wade's intention wasn’t to bring a big ass dog home when he went out the night of the dog fighting ring bust, but he’s very glad Charlotte came home when she did.

In the evenings, when he comes home from work, he toes off his boots and stuffs his feet into Wade’s crocs, before grabbing the girl's collars from the hook near the door. The instant they jingle, eight feet come tumbling towards him, tails wagging, all smiling snouts. The only time it’s not perfect is when it’s raining. Mary is easy, you pick her up and set her down on a patch of grass, she does her business. Charlotte? She weighs ten tons, and makes it practically impossible to get through the door to the apartment. She doesn’t like the wet cement on her paws, so he gets her a pair of boots. She doesn’t like when her fur on her face gets wet, so he gets her a little visor to keep the rain out of her eyes. The little phone that Wade got for Logan came loaded with an app that has an option for same day shipping and boy does he abuse it.

The days are much the same; wake up, walk the dogs. Go to work, lug a few trees here and there, come home. Walk the dogs again. Settle down and watch whatever Althea or Wade is playing, and then go to bed and lay there while he waits for Red to leave. It starts to eat at him but he never brings it up. It’s exhausting to run the night shift, he knows, so he doesn’t pester Wade about it.

He’s standing at the checkout counting the order that was just delivered when the shop’s bell dings, and he doesn’t look up as one of the girls welcomes the customer.

“Hey, how are you today?” Angel, the youngest, smiles whenever a customer comes in, “Are you looking for a new plant baby?”

“Oh no, I’ve come to see Hugh Jackman!” Logan stifles a groan as Wade comes around the shelves to stand in front of the register, “Babygirl, you’re looking lovely as always.”

Logan rolls his eyes, but sets the paper down, “What do you want, Red.”

Wade smiles and plops a plastic bag on the counter, “Can’t a man bring his wife some lunch?”

Logan goes on break and they go and sit at a bench a few shops down, eating hoagies - Logan mostly silently, while Wade chatters on and on. “And I told them that they have no say in what kind of people are in or out of the apartment building, we are making this crack house a crack HOME-”

Logan squints around a mouthful, swallowing hard, “We should move.”

“That’s exactly what I thought - Wait, what?” Wade does a bit of a double take, surprise etched onto his scarred face, “Do you not like the apartment?”

“‘S not exactly big enough for all of us.” Logan feels like he’s edging into strange waters, like maybe bringing it up was a mistake. “The dogs.”

Wade thinks for a minute, temporary silence letting Logan really hear the bustle of the street in front of him, and he thinks that he could say he was kidding, just a joke; nothing serious, don’t look so sad, bub - “We would have to take Al, can’t just leave her to her own devices.”

Logan blinks, relief flooding through him. “A’course. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When Logan goes back to work the little knot of anxiety that started in him ebbs away, replaced by the strangest feeling of belonging. That other shoe is gonna drop, but maybe he will land on his feet when it does.

That night he walks up to the apartment, dinner in hand for the three of them, and makes sure to kick over the little lawn gnome statue outside the neighbor’s house, just a little fuck you about whatever they had been complaining to Wade about earlier.

The days go on and on, Logan slowly saving up bits of his paycheck and Wade coming home with odds and ends that he picks up on missions, or wherever he fucks off to most nights. Logan wonders one morning, in the back of his mind, if he’s not fucking off to Vanessa’s and he is pissy for the rest of the day. He LIKES Vanessa. He likes Wade. Wade’s obviously going to fucking make his little life together with her and move on. Of course he’s not going to stay in this shitty little apartment with an old blind woman and an old pile of metal bones. And if Logan drinks a few extra beers, or smokes a little too many cigars that week, well. Who the fuck is counting.

It’s starting off a bad week for Logan, Mary gnawed at his left work boot and left little tooth marks all over the leather, he forgot his lunch on the kitchen counter, Wade had come in as he was leaving looking beat to shit and hadn’t said two words to Logan. He didn’t have it in him to take it out on the dog, as irritating as it was that she had chewed the leather up it wasn’t her fault. He was ten minutes late to work because Charlotte couldn’t find the best place to poo, and he missed the delivery guy by three minutes, and when he got into the shop he tripped over a ficus and snapped the top half of the plant off on his way down.

Now he’s standing in front of Liz, the owner of the plant shop, with half a ficus dripping milky white sap onto his chewn boot.

“Really Logan, it’s not a big deal, it’s plants. You didn’t kill anyone, relax.” He grits his teeth, nodding as she walks away, still trying to text the company about rescheduling their delivery.

When lunch comes and he finally remembers the nice packed lunch he made for himself he curses and kicks at a bag of potting soil; which, ever so helpful, splits right down the center and spills over the floor. He buries his face in his hands, and then the door bell chimes.

“Honey, I’m home- Logan?” The cheerful voice of Wade forces Logan to pull his hands away and straighten up, “Hey, babycakes what’s the matter?”

Wade is standing in one of his ridiculous unicorn crop tops, with a bag of food in one hand, and a drink carrier from that coffee place he liked down the block in the other.

“M’Alright, bub.” Logan's voice comes out gravelly, but he stands up a bit straighter.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s having a bitch of a day.” Liz, who wasn’t there moments ago barges into the conversation, “Logan, go home, have some lunch and come back tomorrow. It’s not that serious.”

Wade is blissfully quiet on the way home, still chipper, but seemingly respectful of the shitshow of a day that Logan’s been having. They make their way into the apartment where they are met with the goodest of girls, as usual. Logan bends down and presses a kiss to Charlotte’s forehead before making his way into the kitchen after Wade.

“So big guy, you wanna talk about it?” Wade is unpacking the bag, its contents are fragrant styrofoam containers of Indian rice and curries.

Logan sits, frowning, as the chair creaks under his weight but doesn’t say anything. He reaches across the table and grabs his (obviously his, Wade gets some kind of blended shit for coffee and Logan gets black coffee with cream) coffee cup.

“Mums the word, then huh, cupcake? Unsurprising that you can’t communicate your feelings but I figured I’d give it the old college try. It’s what Scoutmaster Kevin would have wanted.” Wade babbles as he doles out the curry, putting a vindaloo in front of Logan and something green and delicious looking at his own place. There’s a fat stack of naan for each of them, wrapped up in tin foil, and some vegetable samosas that Wade ordered just for Logan.

“M’alright, Red. Just a bad day.” Logan doesn’t take his eyes off the curry in front of him, lest he watch Wade shovel the food into his mouth with his hands like a monster (Wade will exclaim that that’s how it's SUPPOSED to be eaten).

Wade shrugs around a mouthful of rice, “You can still tell me about it, mijo.”

“How's Vanessa?” Logan doesn’t mean it to be a low blow, but it looks like it winds Red for a minute, who squints at Logan and snatches up a samosa, shoving the whole thing in his mouth before he answers.

“Vanessa is good. So is Dermott,” Logan winces as Wade talks around the pastry, he swallows dramatically before he starts speaking again, “But this isn’t about my friends. This is about you, honey badger.”

Logan rolls his eyes before reaching over and scooping up whatever green curry Wade has been shoveling into his face. As he thought, its fucking delicious.

“I want that next time.”

Wade takes up Logan's plate and swaps it with his own, always so goddamn selfless. Logan huffs, but continues eating.

They snipe little comments back and forth at each other, but otherwise the meal is rather peaceful. Logan definitely doesn’t cram down the little bit inside of him that wants to pump his fist in the air because Vanessa is still with that other dickwad instead of his dickwad. Logan doesn’t need deep introspection to know that after two hundred plus years he was feeling jealous, which started the whole mess of the bad week. He kicks Wade under the table, for the trouble of it all. They don’t talk about it.

They spend the rest of the evening watching some anime that Logan can’t keep up with, so he scrolls through apartment listings on his phone and he tries to find something that will fit them all well. Three bedrooms, maybe two bathrooms, and a yard with some actual space. They sit in companionable silence well into the evening when Althea comes bustling through the door with a gentleman in tow. Wade clicks off the TV and stands, grimacing.

“Well Honey Badger, let’s clear out of here.” Logan is a little confused but puts his shoes on and follows Wade out the door.

They head out into the night, all crisp air and windchill - Wade taking crazy turns and odd pathing. Logan figures that he’s not actually headed anywhere, he’s just being a dick, and then bumps into the scarred man's back. They’re standing in front of what looks to be a seedy, dingy bar at least a mile or two from the apartment. Wade laughs a little as Logan steps back, flushed.

Logan follows Red into the bar and they find a small corner booth. The place is dimly lit and smells like industrial strength cleaner, but there’s a few people scattered here and there at tables and there’s some game playing on the tv’s.

“You want a beer, or…?” Wade leaves the question open and Logan jerks his head affirmatively.

“Beer’s fine.” Logan scoots into the booth and Wade takes off for the bar, where he claps the back of a bald man doing the worlds worst impression of a biker. They talk for a few minutes, while Wade holds two condensating bottles of whatever’s cheapest, and then Red heads back over to him. The bottle’s are slippery from the heat of the room, and Logan’s hand slides over Wade’s for a brief moment as he passes the bottle over. They don’t talk about it.

Wade is staring, open mouthed at whatever the fucking game is on the screen behind Logan’s head and Logan is fiddling with the bowl of peanuts in front of him when Logan picks up a shelled nut and chucks one at Red, hitting him square in the mouth.

Wade jerks but closes his mouth and stares at Logan, chewing the nut up before he speaks, “Someone needs a little attention. Whatsa matter big guy, all out of brooding thoughts in there?”

“Fuck off.” Logan rolls his eyes and launches another nut at Wade, who dodges - it hits the head of some guy sitting two booths over and Logan stifles a grin.

Inadvertently, he should have known it would start a nut-war, Wade giving as good as he gets. Logan ends up with salt lacing his clothes and hair from where the peanuts land and roll off him, he’s not as fast as Wade at dodging.

They stay there for hours, drinking beers and eventually switching over to whiskey; Wade got some sweet shit with a bee on the logo, but whatever. They get as close to shitfaced as two super-healing entities can get and they stumble from the bar. Logan nearly walks out into the street before Wade catches him and pulls him a little too close. They end up a parody of how they first met, Logan’s arm slung over Red’s shoulders, but this time they’re chuckling and leaning into each other. They won’t talk about it tomorrow.

When they make it back to the apartment the place is silent, and the shoes from Al’s guest have disappeared, so at least there’s that. Logan makes a bee line for where Charlotte sits waiting on the couch, and he presses his face into the space behind her ear and pets her slowly.

Wade makes his way into the kitchen and brings them both some cold leftover pizza from the fridge and they sit in relative silence until Red stands and they make up the bed. If they lay in the darkness pressed close to each other until they both fall asleep? Well, they don’t talk about that.

It takes them a few weeks of looking at apartments before Logan shifts his perspective. Why are they looking to rent someplace, Red is making good money and Logan’s pay is pretty decent. That morning, he’s waiting around a bit for Wade to get back.

The other man swoops in the door with his arms full of garbage, and he nearly trips getting past the lined up shoes when he sees Logan sitting soberly on the couch with the dogs, “Logie-bear? You need something?”

Logan nods, stiffly. He’s anxious to broach the subject of moving again, even though they already agreed to look at places, “You want to buy a house?”

Red stares dumbly at him before he drops the load of shit in his arms. A pair of sandals lands near Logan's feet, “Come again, Peaches?” Wade flops down on the couch next to Logan.

Logan, god help him, takes a deep breath and starts again.

“Think it would be better than an apartment.” He sucks his teeth for a moment, “Lotsa space. Yard for the dogs.”

Red pulls his mask off and squints at Logan, “And did you think I would not like the idea of this?”

Logan shrugs after a minute, swallowing hard. Wade grabs his shoulder and gives a squeeze before getting up to pick up all the shit he dropped, “I got you some slides so you’d stop stealing my fucking crocs.”

Logan picks out a few places on his stupid smart phone while he’s on break at work, and texts them over to Wade. Wade sends over stupid little hearts that burst on his screen when he opens his messages, and then sends a wall of disjointed texts about going to see some of them this weekend. Logan rolls his eyes and fucks off back to work. That umbrella tree in the back isn’t going to bring itself up front.

Steadily, the week lets out to the weekend. Liz gives him Friday off, so they can extend their search another day, and they set off after letting Al know where they’d be for the day. She is a little pissy, at first, but when they say they’re looking for a place with two bathrooms she changes her story.

The first house they look at is a fucking disaster, all dripping faucets and every surface is carpeted. Wade keeps making stupid comments about replacing it with shag rugs (get it, shag?) and Logan elbows him in the stomach after one too many.

The realtor seems nice enough, but Logan thinks she’s just a little too focused on things like if the two of them will need to worry about good schools in the area, or if they’ve planned a date. Logan doesn’t know what she thinks they’d go on a date for, seeing as Wade is in love with his ex, and Logan is just Logan.

Wade is insufferable, hooking his arm though Logan’s and dragging him around the place. It smells like a cat has been in the bedroom closet, and when Red looks at him he just shakes his head, ‘no’. They’re still looking on Sunday.

They go to the next place, which isn’t bad, but there is still only one bathroom. The yard isn’t fenced in, and Logan is sure this isn’t going to be their new home when they make their way into the kitchen and all the cabinets are a nasty green color - it reminds him of baby poop and he chokes out a laugh that he manages to pretend is a cough. The realtor, Amy, says it needs some ‘love’ but that the place has sturdy bones.

He clears his throat and speaks up after touring the bedrooms, “We really need that second bathroom.”

Amy smiles up at him and scribbles something on her paperwork before whisking them away to the next location. How hard could it actually be to find something that will work for two mutants and a geriatric blind woman?

The third house is marginally better, there’s a fenced in backyard, three bedrooms, and two bathrooms: It’s significantly cheaper than they had been expecting, and the kitchen doesn’t look like a diaper exploded and covered everything in a 50 mile radius.

“Well I for one, like this place. What’s the catch?” Wade, and Amy have been chattering back and forth, and Red says this and shoots Logan a meaningful look.

Amy’s bubbly personality doesn’t falter when she hands over a piece of paper. It’s a photocopy of a news article, “MURDERHOUSE FOR SALE BY BANK” - Wade snorts at the paper before handing it back to her.

Logan pulls Red by the shirt sleeve to the other side of the room, and Amy steps out onto the balcony (theres a fucking BALCONY) to give them some privacy.

“This it?” He says, sniffing a little.

“Well, Peanut, I can’t make that decision. We have to make it together.” Wade pokes his finger into Logan’s shoulder as he says it, which is distracting. Logan swats his hand away, “Besides, I think Al would give her left titty, as saggy as that may be, for that ensuite bathroom.”

Logan thinks about it for a minute before chiming in, “I like it.”

Red raises his eyebrows and smiles and then looks past Logan’s shoulder, “Got ‘im.” before going out to the balcony to grab Amy. As he came back in, Logan heard him saying some shit about his ‘elderly, blind mother.’

They bring Althea back after an hour break, and she falls in love with it. They put their bid down, a few thousand more than the house is going for, and they get it. They make short work of moving in, Althea getting the bedroom with the ensuite.

Wade gets a nice sized bed, one that takes over a large portion of his room. Logan, thinking economically, gets a full size - he and Charlotte don’t need much room between the two of them. Charlotte spends most nights sleeping in Logan’s arms or at his feet.

They pack up the shitty crack house apartment and then all of Wade's friends come and help move their shit over to their house, brought over with offerings of free beer and pizza.

They’ve been moving the last of the boxes and furniture all day, and Althea has gone on to bed. Wade and Logan wave Wade’s friends out the door, Peter, being the last one out the door - he takes the garbage from dinner out with him. The guy’s too fuckin nice to be around most of the time. Logan and Red are sitting on the couch, half drunk beers getting warm on the coffee table, and Logan is smoking a big fat cigar.

Logan glances over at the floor, both dogs curled up on their bed - ridiculously, Charlotte is pushed to the very edge of the dog bed, and Mary is splayed out on her back next to her. Charlotte sighs contentedly in her sleep.

They sit in near silence, it’s quiet enough that Logan hears the sizzle of his cigar when he takes a puff, and after a while there isn’t much left to smoke at all. He stubs out what’s left of it and stands, intent on grabbing the girls for one last hurrah before bed. The moment the tags on their collars jingle, both dogs shoot up like anything, Mary running little dancy-circles around where Charlotte is sitting patiently by the door while Logan untwists the leashes to get the girls situated. Wade stands, starts clearing up the remains of their beer.

When Logan comes back in from his foray into the night, Wade is wearing that stupid fucking moo moo, and comes over to pick up Mary. Tucked safely in his arms, Logan gives her head a scritch and the two of them stand, looking in at the living room. After a while, Logan’s eyes find the pocked cheeks of Wade’s face and he watches him for a beat.

“We did good, Red.” Logan’s voice is low and it draws Wade’s attention, but not enough to look away from the room. Logan sees Red’s lips form a small smile, and Wade is walking away to his bedroom.

“Night, Peanut.”

As Logan lay in the dark he shifted uncomfortably, realizing his mistake: he fucking hated sleeping alone. They last a week, barely ever seeing each other, Wade disappearing at night and coming home well into the day when Logan has already gone to work.

One weekend, Logan doesn't have work, and he's reclining in his bed and petting Charlotte. Wade doesn't knock, he just comes slamming through the door, jolting both the dog, and Logan on edge. He flops face first into the bed, knees curled up and face pressed into Logan's armpit. Without pause, Logan’s arm wraps around Red’s back and presses him closer, before he pulls back a bit to look down at the other man.

“S’a matter, bub?” Wade snakes his arm around Logan, nuzzling and tucking his face impossibly closer to Logan before he rolls slightly to let out a quiet sentence.

“Missed you.” They move Logan’s things into Wade’s room. They don’t talk about it.

He’s at work one day, reaching up for a dieffenbachia on a high shelf when Wade comes crashing through the door to the shop, skipping and humming some insane song that Logan recognizes from an anime that Wade likes. The door cracks open loudly and Logan knocks the plant down onto his own head.

“What ya doin, Peanut?” Logan brushes some dirt from his clothes and picks up the dumb cane, stuffing as much soil back into the pot as he can manage to scrape off the floor, “I brought you some lunch, babygirl.”

Turns out Wade brought a big, thick sandwich, split down the center so they can share it. They tuck away on some crates behind the counter of the shop, huddled close with the wrapper spread over their knees, which knock into each other as they talk. Well, Wade talks. Logan eats and listens, nodding when necessary.

Liz tracks in, finally, with the girls in tow and Logan shifts back a bit, but not before she shoots him a wink. He doesn’t know what she’s winking at, he’s just eating his lunch.

“You wanna bounce, hombre? We’re slow enough that you don’t need to stick around if you wanna take off.”Liz asks, and Logan nods, mouth full of food and more manners than Red who just keeps taking huge bites and spewing whatever garble comes through his brain at Logan. It’s comforting, listening to the scarred man talk, even if sometimes Logan gets lost in all those words. Used to was that the most people would say to him was to get out, and Logan’s still coming to terms with the fact that it’s different here. Still has to come to terms with the fact that maybe someone wants him around.

They finish up their meal and head out, walking the blocks to the house. Logan laughs at something Wade is saying, and they’re stopped at a ‘do not cross’ sign, with Red grinning as Logan bumps their shoulders together gently.

Back at the house, Wade takes up residence on the couch next to Althea, who is snoring loudly while Judge Judy plays on the television. After a quick shower, Logan flops down next to Wade, sandwiching him between a sleeping old woman, and a grumpy old man.

Just like that, Logan is waking up from a nap of his own, couch absent of any other roommate, but Logan can hear a shower running and smell the fruity body wash that Wade swears makes his scarred skin feel softer. The TV’s off and the dogs are both snuffling in their sleep where they lay on the floor. He realizes, then, why he woke up - his phone is buzzing and Laura is on the other end.

The moment he picks up she’s rapid fire spitting angry, in Spanish, and he can’t keep up with her for a moment. He lets her go on, stumbling over an attempt to calm her down enough to actually deduce what the matter is when Wade’s hovering over him. He puts a hand over the phone and mouths Laura’s name at Wade, who has likely figured out that it was her by the violent cussing that was coming loudly through the line.

Logan licks his lips to start again when Wade plucks the phone from his hand and rapid fire, shoots off a string of Spanish so fast that Logan blinks twice before he realizes what happened. They go back and forth for a bit, Laura audibly seeming to calm down, which helps Logan let out a sigh of relief. After another moment, Wade hangs up the phone and passes it back.

“Laura is coming to stay for a few days.” And Wade is fucking back off into the bathroom, leaving Logan to sit there, dumbstruck and a little in awe.

Logan answers the door for Laura, who doesn’t say anything but immediately butts her head into his chest, and after a second he wraps his arms around her and pats the back of her head the way his mother used to, a million and one fucking years ago, “Hey kid.”

His throat is dry and he leads her into the kitchen where Wade, miraculously has sourced fucking hot cocoa, and they sit around the table for a while while Logan tries to juggle coming to grips with the fact that Laura needs him, and Laura actually needing him.

“-And she said that they won’t be able to come out and look at it until fucking monday.” The worst scenario for Laura, the shower at her shitty apartment is fucked and spews either scalding water or nothing - if she cranks the cold at all it shuts off. It’s Thursday night, and honestly Logan can’t blame the kid for wanting a fucking shower. Except then it started affecting everything else, the toilet, the kitchen sink. All the water is suddenly fucking gone from her apartment, “I was wondering if I could crash on your couch until then.”

She’s looking at Logan with crystal clear eyes, and as soon as he starts to affirm, Wade cuts in - “We have a spare room, Pookie, no need for the couch.” Laura looks between the two of them, calculating for a moment before nodding.

They stay up late, Wade and Laura bickering back and forth in broken Spanglish while Logan observes and smokes and has fucking cocoa. And he feels so completely whole that the guilt of the feeling chases him into his sleep.

That nightmare is how Wade finds him, knees curled up into his chest on the couch in the dark, face illuminated by a cigarette from the pack Althea left on the table hours ago. Wade doesn’t turn the lights on when he comes through to leave for the night, and jumps a bit when he sees Logan sitting huddled on the couch.

“Hey Peanut,” He starts quietly, “I didn’t mean to wake you, I thought I was being quiet.”

“Wasn’t you, bub.” Logan’s voice is raw and Red stops and squints at him in the dark before edging closer.

“Y’all right? You seem,” Logan can see the gears in Wade’s head cranking, “Upset.”

“Had a nightmare. Don’t worry about it.” Logan stubs out the last of the cigarette and stands to pass Wade, “You going on a job?”

Wade, who for some reason, skirts around the subject of work every time Logan brings it up nods the affirmative, “I’m straight grindmaxing, Logie bear.”

Whatever the fuck that means, Logan brushes his shoulder with Wades on his way past, and Wade grabs his wrist in the darkness, so Logan turns to look at him.

“It’s gonna be okay, Logan.” The seriousness in Red’s voice dries out Logan’s throat completely and he takes a beat of standing in the darkness with the other man before he pulls away and heads back towards the bedroom.

“Be safe, Bub.” He hears Wade laughing as he closes the bedroom door.

The next morning it’s Laura who wakes him, crashing and banging in the kitchen as she fumbles her way into the cabinet with the pots and pans. He makes his way out there and she’s got flour all over the counter top, and Mary is slurping happily at her feet where she has dropped all but three from their dozen eggs. Laura looks miserably at him for a moment before she presses some hair out of her face, streaking flour over her forehead and eyebrow.

“Was goin on?” She gestures at the mess and shrugs before she answers him.

“I was trying to make breakfast. I wanted pancakes.”

“Have you ever done that before?”

“No.” She sulks, just like he does.

He crosses the room and takes the frying pan from her hands and grabs a few things, a mixing bowl, some sugar, the normal fixings. Cracking an egg into the bowl he holds out his hand for her to give him another, and she does.

Wade slumps into the kitchen a little later, suited up and looking absolutely disgusting. He’s covered from head to toe in grime, and he quietly stows away a dozen fresh eggs in the fridge, along with some frilly creamer that Laura likes, and a big tub of ice cream before he sulks off into the bathroom to remove the scum of the day(night? whatever.) He spends a god awful amount of time in there, and Logan’s gotta go. It should be fine, right?

Logan knocks gently on the bathroom door, not hearing the shower running.

“Ocupado, quien es?” Logan rolls his eyes and cracks the door and steam billows out from the bathroom.

“Gotta piss.” At the affirmative noise Logan steps into the bathroom that’s fucking shrouded in steam, crinkling his nose at the god awful perfumey scent of whatever the fuck Red has put into the bath. It’s some synthetic floral and it clings in his nose as he silently relieves himself. Wade is laying back in what must be an absolutely fucking boiling bathtub brimming with colorful bubbles. He has the decency to look a little embarrassed as Logan finishes up and washes his hands.

“Thanks, Red.” Getting the fuck out of proximity to a naked Wade Wilson is Logan’s number one goal, even if the man is acting more sedate than usual.

When he gets back to the kitchen Laura is making yet another mess, filling the sink with bubbles of her own as she attempts to scrub the dishes from their meal. Logan hands her a dish towel and scoots her to one side, rinsing the majority of the dishes and stowing them in the under-cabinet dishwasher. The pan they fried the pancakes in gets a nice rinse and is set aside for later.

“So you wanna tell me why we moved your stuff into the room I’m sleeping in and now it’s got nothing in it except a mattress?” He lets her question hang in the air between them while he drains the sink and rinses the bubbles that she slopped all over the counter down.

“S’easier to sleep with someone than it is alone.” His excuse is weak and he knows it, hoping she won’t pry further than that. He spins and leans back against the sink and crosses his arms.

“Oh yeah, and that hundred something pound dog isn’t enough of a someone to sleep with?” He narrows his eyes at her, like he could see through her skull and figure out exactly what the fuck it is she’s trying to get at.

She screws her face up for a minute, and he thinks maybe she will back down, “So are you sleeping with that old woman or are you sleeping with Wade?”

“Hey, watch how you talk about your elders, kid -” She’s mocking him, making a face as she starts miming what he’s saying back to him, “Laura, seriously. Let it go.”

“The only person you’re fooling is yourself if you think this is the end of this conversation, bub.” She spits the endearment at him and flounces off to the living room as he wipes over his face with his hand. Jesus christ, what the fuck has he gotten into.

That night is much of the same, Wade makes some casserole for dinner and Laura acts like a little shit across the table from Logan all night. She’s gesturing with her fork at Wade, who is rambling through some shitty news article about Spider Man from his phone. Logan thinks she mouths something like ‘ask him’ but Logan isn’t sure what she wants him to ask, so he settles his eyes on his food and starts shoveling it into his face.

After a while he finishes, and that’s when he realizes that Wade has asked him a question, and the two are staring at him - Red, patiently… Laura, smugly. Little shit.

“What’s that?” He stands to clear his plate as if he wasn’t just completely zoned out, grabbing up Laura’s on his way. Wade passes his over too, and for a minute Logan is afraid that maybe he didn’t ask a question.

“I asked if you liked it, peanut. I mean seriously, how many times in one fic are you gonna miss what I say?” He says the last bit while staring over Laura’s head, and Logan is pretty sure that bit isn’t meant for him.

“S’good.” Logan isn’t totally sure what the casserole was but there were noodles and some peas, and it was cheesy as anything. A win in his book.

He starts rinsing the plates at the sink but doesn’t miss the look Laura and Wade share, before Wade shrugs. Stacking the plates into the dishwasher he turns back around to watch them.

He’s certain that somehow, Laura and Wade are fucking telepathically communicating, and as the seconds that feel like years tick by, Logan can feel a vein in his forehead throbbing. He presses his thumb to it, trying to remain calm and Wade stands with his hands on his hips.

“Ice cream?” The man is fucking infuriating, but they all end up with a bowl, smooshed together on the couch in the living room while Golden Girls plays quietly. Wade think’s it’s integral to a youth’s education to experience Bea Arthur, and so they watch in near silence - Wade quietly quoting the show now and again.

That night Red rolls over into Logan's chest and stays put the entire night, and Logan thinks that maybe life in this universe could be something good, after all.

In the morning they roll out of bed and end up sharing the bathroom mirror while they brush their teeth. Laura is still sleeping, and Wade takes the dogs out to the back yard to go potty so Logan starts breakfast, eggs and bacon and toast from the fucked up toaster that they brought with them - and coffee from the pot that is still a raging bitch every time Logan tries to use it.

He’s still fucking with it when Wade comes in, bacon slightly too crispy on one side because he was too busy with that stupid pot to flip it, and Wade hums quietly.

They finish up breakfast together, waiting for Laura and he thinks maybe Wade wants to ask him something, but Wade must not have gotten the fucking memo because he’s weirdly quiet today.

He turns toward the other man, intent on asking him to speak the fuck up and get it over with, when Laura comes in all sleepy eyed and yawning, and it knocks the agitated wind right out of Logan’s sails. He plates the last of the bacon and brings it over to the table.

“Morning, kid.” Laura’s elbow is on the table and she’s holding her head up right with her fist. He doesn’t remember what it’s like to be so young, because it’s been a thousand fucking years since he ever was her age. He uses one meaty hand and ruffles the hair on her head, which she ducks away from with a groan.

She fucks off for the day, with the intent to come back for dinner, so it’s just Wade and Logan for the afternoon. Althea has been in and out with some beau recently, and Logan isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not, but it does mean that he and Red are spending the bits of time they are at home together.

Wade is sitting on one end of the couch and keeps poking Logan with his fucking toes and it’s annoying as hell. Logan is scrolling news articles on his phone and trying to read, and that’s when Logan realizes that he might need fucking reading glasses. He stands and slaps Wade’s thigh, “Y’comin?”

Wade looks up with interest, but doesn’t say anything as he stands. They make their way a few blocks over, to the same shitty pharmacy that Wade took Logan when he first got here. He’s been back a few times, but usually it’s to pick up soap or Althea’s prescriptions.

He ends up in a back corner of the pharmacy, right next to the magazine rack, where a little rotating fucking thing is covered in weirdly colored and styled reading glasses. He isn’t sure what script lenses he needs so he spends a while squinting down at his phone before he pulls the glasses off and tries the next ones. Each time he hold a pair of lenses up to his face Wade lets out a stupid fucking wolf whistle.

Finally, blissfully, he finds a simple metal pair of frames that actually fucking lets him see the stupid fucking tiny letters on his cellphone, and they head to the checkout. While they are in line, a lady with a baby sidles up behind them and he watches quietly as Wade coos and coddles the kid, blowing soft raspberries and smiling widely at the baby.

The mother, who looks exhausted, gives him a smile before she says, “Do you two have kids?”

“Oh I don’t, but he’s got one from a previous marriage. She’s a real firecracker but you know how teenagers can be.”

“She's twenty two, dumb fuck.” Wade gasps immediately, gesturing to the infant who looks too young to even comprehend that Logan swore.

“Little ears, dickhead.” He says ‘dickhead’ almost imperceptibly quiet, as though he fully believes that it would affect the baby. Logan lets the mother pass him in line, she’s got a little container of formula in her hands and that’s it.

“It’s alright, he’s really too little. You boys should give it a go, you seem like you’d be great parents. It’s nice to see people in love out here.”

Logan and Wade absolutely do not avoid each other's eyes as they check out, the glasses nearly forgotten, until the clerk at the counter calls them up impatiently.

When they get back home, Althea is sitting back on the couch, her beau on the other end, some guy named Frank or Fred. Logan nods at him as he passes by and heads for the bedroom, as Wade stops to chat with them.

Wade, thankfully, does not make a comment about him using the new glasses as he comes into the bedroom and strips out of his shirt, sweaty from the walk back home, and flops face down onto the bed. Logan doesn’t say anything as Wade burrows his face close to Logan’s hip, but rests the hand he’s not using to scroll with on the back of Wade’s neck and presses in with his fingers, gently. Wade groans, and rolls into it, before pushing up on his elbows for a moment to look at Logan.

“D’you do that to all the girls, or am I special?” Logan, surprisingly, doesn’t mind it much more when Wade flirts with him. Wade would flirt with a garbage bag if it were sentient. It doesn’t mean anything, so Logan won’t rise to the heckle.

Laura comes back a little earlier than they expect, and they end up going out for dinner at a restaurant a few blocks over, close to the old apartment, and Laura eats like someone is going to take the food away from her the whole time. Logan think’s it’s because she likes it, but maybe she’s just fucking territorial.

Wade is picking at her, grilling her about where she’s thinking about going to school and if she will stay at her apartment, “So you really wanna keep living at that shithole? When you know damn well that you could just as easily commute to any school in the area from the house?”

“It’s not that simple, dad tell him-” Logan knows she didn’t mean the slip and he brushes over it like it didn’t come out.

“He’s right. Could stay with us.” Wade’s jaw drops a bit, and then slams shut before looking between the two of them.

She huffs a little, and crosses her arms in a mirror of Logan, and then rolls her eyes. He’s sure she’s actually given it some thought when he hears her let out a little swear.

And Wade’s off on some random bullshit about the neighborhood and the schools in the area and Logan’s barely listening as he kicks gently at his kid under the table, only for her to kick him back as hard as she dared without interrupting the other man.

They settle it that weekend, Laura and Logan pulling up in a busted truck he picked up for cheap to help move her bare bones apartment to the house. Unfortunately the leasing people didn’t like that Laura was fixing to break hers, until Logan showed up all menacing glares from behind her, asking what could possibly be taking so long.

It takes two trips, because Laura has a fuckload of clothes - Logan’s pretty sure that most of them don’t even fit her but he thinks maybe she’s just trying to hold onto something in this world before it gets ripped away. He can’t blame her there. They leave the shitty ass twin size mattress that she has on the floor, and Logan wonders if it’s a comfort to her or just a necessity.

They work in near silence, Laura speaking most of the words between them and understanding his terse nods and head-shakes. They stop between trips to the house and grab a quick lunch, some fuckin sandwich things that pretty much fall apart with the amount of meats and shit loaded on them. It’s delicious, and Logan has to remember where they got them so he can bring one to Wade sometime.

Laura’s got her mouth full, with a slice of tomato slipping through her teeth as she gnashes and says, “So are you fucking each other?”

It takes Logan by surprise and he nearly inhales an entire bite of unchewed sandwich, choking and sputtering - setting his sandwich down so that he can put his face in his hands for a moment before he answers, “Why would you say that.” It’s not quite a question, breathing slightly de-centered as he looks over at her.

She shrugs around another bite and god, she truly eats like she was raised in a lab, “I just want you to know that it doesn’t bother me. Your relationship with him.”

“There is no relationship, we just-” He cuts himself off, lacking the words to even describe what is going on between the two of them. He doesn’t even know where to start on it, they’re so integral to each other but they haven’t talked about anything and Logan isn’t even sure he knows how to name all the stupid fucking feelings; it’s just a mess. Wade literally shared a bed with a blind old woman for a time, so it’s not as if it means anything to him, even if it did to Logan. Which it doesn’t, especially if anyone is asking. He thinks for a second that he’s spiraling, staring at his shitheel of a kid who is obviously only doing this to him to torment him before he stands, throws the rest of his sandwich away and gets back to work, effectively cutting off whatever threads of a ‘conversation’ this was before he can go any deeper into his own head.

He sees her face as he walks away, smug as shit. He thinks she might be taking after Wade. He’s not sure if that’s a bad thing.

Wade’s got some fucking thing running and the noise is driving Logan crazy. It’s summer and its hotter than fuck and they just got back to the house with all of Lauras stuff and fuck if it isn’t almost as hot inside as it is outside. Althea might not be the oldest of the roommates but she’s the physically oldest and she thinks the air con should be kept at a frosty 75 degrees. Logan disagrees, he’s much more comfortable with a polar vortex of a temperature. Wade also disagrees, but the fucker has a box fan with one missing wing, and that’s the god awful noise Logan hears, he’s sure of it. He gets Lauras stuff into the living room so she can sort it all out and take it to her room, and goes to the bedroom where the noise is coming from/

“Can you shut that shit off, it’s miserable-” Logan stops dead in his tracks, Wade is face down on the bed in the smallest pair of red panties Logan has ever seen. While his brain reboots, he chews on the word he was going to say next, realizing a bit too late that Wade is taking a fucking nap like that: Half dressed, ass out, and in direct view of the bedroom door. Logan’s brain starts back up and he crosses the room, flings a sheet over Red’s ass and bodily ejects himself out the door, mouth bone dry and sweat beading at his temples.

Laura’s sitting in the living room, kicking at a bag of clothes with her foot and watches him cross to the kitchen where he grabs a bottle of beer and comes back to the couch. He nudges the bag she’s kicking with a toe and tips the bottle towards her. “Want one?”

At her affirmative, he passes the bottle in his hands to her and makes the trek back to the kitchen for one of his own. They don’t talk as he hoists the bag in one hand, pressing the cold bottle of beer to his temple with the other and loads the shit she brought into her room.

She’s got this big, furry, fuckass beanbag. It’s neon green, and he wonders if that’s the kind of thing she likes before he slumps down onto it, nearly squashing it under his weight as she kicks a bag into the room behind him, with one in her arms. They sit together in relative silence (besides that awful noise from the fan in the bedroom, screeching. Logan thinks Wade could sleep through anything at all if he sleeps through that din, but in actuality he knows for a fact that Wade is a light sleeper. Insufferable man.) taking clothes out of bags and figuring out if they need to be donated or not. Logan’s sure that she’s not the most comfortable at that moment, but he thinks that he’s even more uncomfortable. Wade has always been pretty good about not being undressed in shared spaces, even if he is a flirt he’s still a good roommate. He can’t blink the image of Red’s shapely ass from the backs of his eyelids, and the thought is distracting as fuck. He’s sure she knows, paranoia creeping in just enough to keep him sweating. It’s not a crime to have fucking eyeballs, and Logan could do a lot worse than just look.

It takes them a while, the door still open and Logan’s slipped off the bean bag to sit criss crossed on the floor - he was smothering the life out of that ugly thing, and he didn’t want to ruin the little bit of furniture that she brought with her.

His mistake is looking up at just the moment Wade crosses the hallway to make his way into the bathroom. He’s still shirtless, but his shorts are slung low on his hips and there is a sliver of bright red peeking out of the top. Logan swears god is punishing him at that moment, every single thing he’s ever done wrong is coming for his throat and he takes a stuttering breath and throws a too-small shirt in the donate pile while he stone-face looks at Laura.

At dinner it’s quieter than usual, and they’re eating big ass salads from some pop up down the block. Laura picks at it as if she’s never seen a salad as a meal before, even though they absolutely crammed as much grilled chicken into the take out containers as they possibly could. Wade wanted something light for dinner since it was so hot.

“D’you think she’d notice if we cranked the AC just a little? Like she can’t even see the thermostat, how would she tell?” Wade’s grumbling through a mouthful of arugula and carrots, and Logan watches a julienned slice of carrot cling to his bottom lip before Red licks it off, Logan slamming his eyes back to his own dinner. He shrugs and keeps chewing and breathing. He thinks that if he can just get through this meal that he can fuck off and go live in the woods and never speak to anyone ever again and be just fine.

Laura speaks up and says something in rapid fire Spanish, too fast for Logan to catch any of. He’s downloaded some shitty app with a vaguely threatening bird that will supposedly help him learn Spanish, but she just speaks so fast that almost nothing but the cuss words she spits out spitefully are anything he can understand.

Whatever the fuck she says has Wade perking up, all dumb expression on his face like she’s the brightest part of his day and Logan thinks maybe he understands that a little bit. He likes having her around, a little more silence and brooding looks to balance out the noise that comes with Wade Wilson.

Logan gets ready for bed while Laura and Wade watch some fuckshit on the tv, Althea passed out in her chair next to them. Logan thinks that he hates all the broken shit that Wade dragged from the old apartment, the shitty coffee pot, the busted ass box fan. Logan knows that Wade hates throwing anything out, picking up most of the shit he gathers through the day from someone else's trash. Logan has literally had to pry Wade away from a busted minifridge before, the door swinging wildly as Wade awkwardly tried to carry it the six blocks home. It’s not that Logan doesn’t want Wade to have things, it’s that Logan wants Wade to have nice things. He’s thinking about the fuckass toaster that always burns the toast on one side when Wade slides through the bedroom door, casual as anything and starts getting ready for bed.

Except those fucking panties are peaking out of his shorts, and Logan has to even out his breathing. He’s sitting up in bed, scrolling through his phone with a sheet covering his legs and the pillow rucked up behind him so that he’s not quite curled over the phone like a shit impersonation of a shrimp, casting quick glances up at Wade’s ass every now and then, when the other man is turned and facing the chest of drawers. Wade reaches up and hauls the sweaty shirt off his back and he turns - almost catching Logan staring at the musculature, but Logan is slick enough not to get caught. You don’t live 200 years and not develop the speed to eyeball someone.

Wade is still fucking off across the room, so Logan slides down the bed, tucks his phone under his pillow, punches it once and is turning over. When Wade eventually slides into the bed and clicks off the lamp on his side of the bed he immediately runs one of his feet over Logan’s bare calf, “You still awake, peanut?”

It's too hot to be touching any part of another person's skin, but Logan stays still and breaths slowly through his nose. Wade, the fucker, kicks the other foot back and hooks it around Logans ankle so that their feet are entwined, but they dont touch anywhere else - normally Wade would be tucked into Logan’s shoulder or playing the role of big spoon, but its so fucking hot - Logan sits up and whips his phone out again, typing furiously for a moment in the darkness.

Wade is looking over his shoulder a little surprised, but if he has something to say he’s smart enough to keep it to his fucking self for once. Logan is ordering a fucking window unit, small thing that will keep their room cool enough that they can breath while they sleep and not have to worry about making a popsicle out of their geriatric roommate.

Logan jolts awake the next morning, head crammed into Wade’s chest - drooling a bit on his pec, with Wade’s arm slung over him. All Logan can think is that he has to get away from the insane heat smothering him and then he realizes that it’s just Wade. Taking a deep breath he slides out from under the other mans arm, hitching the sheet up over Red as he extracts himself from the bed.

He makes his way to the kitchen in the dim light and lights a cigarette, too early in the morning to bother with something as big as a cigar. Logan finds Laura sitting at the kitchen table, slumped a little, with one knee tucked up to her chest and he sits down across from her. They sit, mismatched chairs Wade probably found in a dumpster in silence for a while, Logan chain smoking and Laura fiddling idly with the hem of her too big tank top.

“Y’all right, kid?” She jerks her eyes up to him and screws up her face a bit, worrying her lip with a too-sharp tooth.

“Nightmare.” She shrugs, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for someone her age to be plagued by, sleep fleeting and distant because she’s tormented by a past that he can’t fathom at her age.

He sighs a bit, taking a big puff of smoke in on the inhale and shooting it fast downwards as he thinks about what next he should say, chewing up words before they can pass his lips and spitting out white clouds of smoke.

“I -” He starts, and Wade trips into the room, bare chested and dragging his ass behind him, cutting off what Logan was trying to say as he skitters towards the coffee pot.

Laura, the shit, raises her eyebrows at him and blinks slowly, clearly catching him in the act of staring at the other man passing by.

He furrows his brow, trying to communicate to her that it doesn’t have to mean anything, to Wade himself it doesn't even mean anything so why should it matter to her.

She gives him the most deadpan look, and he would wonder where she got it from but she’s a little wretched mirror of him, and she rolls her eyes expertly before jabbing her finger to point at Logan, and then once at Wade’s back. He’s behind Logan, fucking with that bitch of a coffee pot and if Logan didn’t think that it would hurt Wade’s feelings he would order a new one of every broken piece of shit in this house over night and have them replaced by the next day. It’s unrealistic, he doesn’t have that kind of money and he thinks that Wade must not either because the fucker is always bringing some fuckshit home and trying to rig it up into working order - without knowing how the thing worked in the first place and usually making some kind of fucking mess.

Logan can feel the vein in his forehead start to throb and it’s too early for this when Laura opens her little shit mouth and says, “Good morning, Wade.”

Wade whips his head around like he didn’t quite realize he was in the room with anyone else and squints at them, sniffing at Logan smoking a fifth cigarette before noon even hit. “Morning, Peaches, do you have any plans today?”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb, lit cigarette dangling before Wade plucks it from his hand and starts smoking it himself. Bastard.

Laura shakes her head, muttering something in Spanish and giving a big, full body shrug that today’s kids all seem to know how to do.

“Why don’t you take your old man here to that art exhibit that opened up last weekend? Tickets are pretty cheap and you can probably get a senior citizens discount for grumpy.” Logan huffs at that but there’s no real heat behind it, ducking his head a bit to hide the fraction of a smile that threatens to slap him on the face, and Wade is passing the cigarette back to finally, blessedly, dole out some fucking coffee. Wade is pressed close to Logan's hip, pouring into the cup that he’s holding out to Red, and Logan hears Laura scoff. He’s never going to hear the fucking end of this.

“Cant, got plans today.” It’s Wade’s turn to scoff, Logan rarely has plans outside of walking the dogs every waking moment, working out, or going to work. Logan is waiting impatiently for the delivery of the air conditioner which he plans to install immediately in their bedroom window and then lay naked in the bed for the rest of the day. Those plans are valid and absolutely above criticism.

Wade finally fucks off to the other side of the table after pouring coffee into Laura’s slightly cracked hello-kitty mug, still standing stupid close to Logan. Logan drifts off, sipping coffee and smoking quietly around the chatter of his not-quite-daughter, daughter, and his (whatever the fuck Wade was).

The morning passes quietly into the afternoon and finally, finally, the window unit is delivered and Logan sets about getting it set up. Wade hovers curiously, but tries to act like he isn’t trying to see all of Logan’s deepest thoughts. When Logan gets the thing stuffed into the bedroom window and all screwed into place (because really, he isn’t just setting it on the window and hoping for the fucking best, he’s pulling a power drill out and really screwing this bitch into the windowsill.) Wade finally speaks up about it, eyes full of wonder.

“Are you trying to get pregnant, peanut?” The noise Logan makes is absolutely one of disgust, actively ignoring the other man while he clicks the unit down as far it can go on cool and stripping down to his boxers to lie face down on his side of the bed.

Wade just stands in front of it, letting the chilly air blow through his metaphorical hair. Logan turns his head towards the other man, staring through slitted eyes and dark eyelashes at the pock-marked back, blinking almost imperceptibly.

That night the room is marginally cooler, so cold that Red has pulled Logan’s arm over top of him - and resorted to wearing actual pajamas to bed. Logan mourns the loss of the panties, either from Wade changing out of them or simply being too covered by his stupid booboo kitty pajamas or whatever her name is.

Logan, curled around Wade on the bed in the darkness, until his phone pings - drawing Wade from his sleep. Logan, as usual, pretends to be sleeping so that he can watch Wade get ready to go out in the dark. This time, however, Wade doesn’t put on that weird fucking gimp suit. He puts on some casual clothes, and without a look back to the door, slips out into the house. Logan think’s that’s a bit odd, but doesn’t really give it too much thought as he turns over and gets some sleep.

Wade returns before the sun is up, which rouses Logan from his sleep - any time Wade gets in or out of the bed it wakes Logan, but he is sound enough at keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even that if Wade notices it, he doesn’t bring it up.

It happens again, a week later. Logan is sure that Wade isn’t going to some random mission dressed like a teenager with a caffeine addiction, and it’s starting to grate on him. He wonders, idly, during the day at work about what could be pulling Wade away on those nights. It’s distracting enough to think about Wade going out in secret for missions, and it’s worse that Logan doesn’t know where he goes when he’s not doing them. He feels a little like a jealous boyfriend, except they aren’t, regardless of what Laura or Althea implies. Logan wonders if Wade knows how incredibly centric the merc is in Logan's pathetic life. Wake up, go to work, come home, see Wade, go to sleep, and repeat. It’s not as though Wade meant to make himself Logan’s everything when he picked Logan up by the scruff of the neck in that shitty bar, so drunk he could barely stand. Logan has been doing better, mostly because it’s far easier to remember what Wade’s smile looks like when he’s sober.

So Logan seethes, thinking of all the places that Wade could be getting into trouble. He wonders one morning, while he walks Charlotte and Mary around the block, if Wade is seeing Vanessa again, and the thought makes his blood run cold. He doesn’t mean to be possessive and jealous, but he’s never been as emotionally intelligent as he could be.

One night, Wade gets up and gets dressed and Logan watches him through his eyelashes, and Wade’s got those fucking panties on again, pulled high on his hips. Logan squints in the darkness, trying to make out exactly what shirt Wade is putting on.

It doesn’t matter, Logan knows that it doesn’t fucking matter. He panics a bit, watching Wade close the door behind him, and waits a beat before he slips out of the bed himself and throws on a pair of jeans. It isn’t hard, following Wade. The man doesn’t pay attention to shit, let alone someone following him. For a mercenary the man has no sense of self preservation.

Logan follows him six blocks east, and three streets over, keeping Red in his sight without ever letting the other man see him. Wade dips down into a basement level entrance to a building that Logan realizes is a fucking bar of some kind, letting Wade get in and ahead of him a substantial distance before paying the cover fee and going in too. There’s so much fucking glitter, bass booming, and too-sweaty bodies everywhere, and Logan winces at the overstimulation of even stepping into this place. The place is partly dim, with bright flashing lights. There’s some kind of stage at the far side of the room, and a long bar running along the back wall. He watches Wade bob over to the bar and start a conversation with a bartender who looks an awful lot like he (or she?) knows Wade. Logan stalks over to the opposite side of the room, watching the back of Wade’s bald head shine like anything in the flashing lights of the too crowded room.

Almost immediately, Logan has some skinny nothing of a kid pressing up against him and smiling at him, “Hey, it’s good to see you! It’s been a while.”

Logan raises an eyebrow at the kid, knowing damn well that this pickup line has never in the history of bad pick up lines, worked on any single person ever. At all. “Think you’re confused, bub.”

Logan’s eyes never leave the back of Wade's head, as he takes a step off to the side to brush off the kid, who seemingly will not take a hint. “Oh my bad, you look like someone I know pretty well! I’m Alex, what’s your name?”

Logan suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at this kid, “I’m not interested, so fuck off, kid.”

Alex’s eyebrows shoot up, and then furrow, all blonde and fearless as he takes a step closer, “Come on man, I’ll buy you a drink and we can find some place to chat - “ Logan does not suppress the urge this time and rolls his eyes, shoving past the kid to move away. The music, if you could call it that, is too loud and he doesn’t catch whatever the little shit yells after him as he makes his way over to the side of the bar that Wade isn’t occupying and orders a beer. The bartender on his end is fast enough, dipping away and coming back with some bottle of not-Logan’s-favorite, but it’s something to do and he passes over the cash for the drink with a nod.

Wade is seemingly popular, chatting up a few people here and there, and Logan wonders why the fuck the guy thought he needed to sneak out to go to a bar, before realizing that he’s been a fucking creep. He decides then and there to finish his beer, and leave without bothering Wade, obviously the guy wanted some fucking privacy and Logan has been a total weirdo, when he realizes that Wade is following that shithead kid into what looks like a dingy bathoom.

Logan seethes, draining his beer and standing, follows at a glacial pace in the direction. It’s still loud in the bathroom- except he can hear Wade running his fucking mouth now. Logan isn’t stupid, and when he sees a stall with two pairs of feet he bangs on the door, all but denting the shitty metal inwards with a single rap of two knuckles, and knocking open the shitty locking mechanism so that the door swings open on Wade and the shithead that wouldn’t leave Logan alone in the first place. The kid has his hand down the front of Wade’s pants, chest to back, and both their heads whip around when the door swings open and Logan steps through it.

He wants to say that he’s a reasonable man, but unfortunately, what he actually does is rip the kid off Wade with a hand on the back of his neck, throwing Andrew or whatever the fuck his name was in the direction of the door and stepping into the stall with Wade to close the door behind him. Wade whirls around, grabbing at the crotch of his pants to zip up and cover himself.

“What the fuck?” The shithead takes the hint, with just a little more grumbling out the door, hands raised in defeat, “I didn’t know he had a fucking boyfriend.”

“Logan what the fuck?” For once, Wade actually seems speechless as Logan crowds into his space, eyes all dangerous as he gives Wade a once over. He steps even closer, and Wade takes a half step back before he hits the wall of the stall, face red with embarrassment or anger. Logan takes the opportunity of closeness to lean in and inhale against Wade’s neck before Wade is shoving at him with two fingers, jabbing him back slightly, “No, fucker, you don’t get to come in here and interrupt me like that and then not fucking say anything about it. So speak the fuck up, peanut, before I go find that guy and get what I came here for.”

Logan squints at him, “And what is that... What exactly did you come here for, Red?”

Wade tilts his head to the side, looking at Logan like he’s grown two heads, “I’m trying to get laid - if that’s alright by you, I didn’t think I needed explicit permission to do that, all things considered. I didn’t think it would bother you - ”

Logan cuts him off with a hand over his mouth, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head down. “It does. Bother me.”

Wade raises his eyebrows at Logan, words spilling out of his lips and hitting the wall that is Logan’s hand and turning imperceptible.

“Just. You don’t have to go out. If you’re interested.” Logan grits his teeth and forces the words out, hoping that Wade will understand. The merc licks a wet line across the inside of Logan’s hand and he winces and pulls his hand away to wipe it on Wade’s shirt.

“Now that that’s out of the way, literally, are you fucking kidding? Interested? Peanut I’ve been dropping hints about getting my hands on you from literally the moment I met you. I just assumed you weren’t into it and moved on.” Wade’s mouth is running a mile a minute, and Logan winces.

“You flirt with Althea.”

“Althea isn’t sex on legs, Logan, but I still would because I care for the elderly.” Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step back, but Wade takes the opportunity to step up into his space, “Did you fucking smell me?”

Logan leans back into Wade’s space - Wade who is crowding into Logan’s space, and presses his face close to the other man's ear to inhale the scent of him again, “That a problem?”

And suddenly Wade is pulling Logan’s hands over to his own waist, stepping almost impossibly closer and pressing his lips to Logan’s - not at all what Logan was actually expecting in the moments he tracked Red into this nasty bathroom. He makes up his mind and pulls away, determinedly shoving Wade back a space before dropping to his knees on the grimy floor of the dingy bathroom and he thinks for a space that he’s gonna have to burn these jeans, totally destroyed by whatever funk now lives in the fabric of the knees but there’s something much more important at hand and he’s gotta get his mouth on Wade in whatever capacity he can. He stares hungrily up at Wade while gesturing to the other man’s trousers and licks his lips which seems to have restarted Wade’s brain.

The fly is still undone, along with the zip and Logan takes a beat to appreciate those stupid fucking lace panties, before Wade is shoving his pants down and kicking out his legs, and that’s when Logan actually sees what Wade is packing, all nestled in softly in that lace like a gift from God himself for Logan. His mouth waters and he shreds the panties blocking his path without a thought, tears them right off Wade’s pussy and stuffs them into his own back pocket because this might be the only fucking chance Logan gets at this and he sure as hell wants to actually remember it - hopefully until the life drains out of him in the distant future.

He surges forward, mouth open and shoves an elbow between Wade’s knees to make room for his head; Wade knocks off balance and ends up pressing his back fully against the metal of the stall, a shitty industrial toilet paper holder digging into his ass while Logan uses one hand to spread the pink lips in front of him and spit messily onto the thick little stub of a cock that Wade is rocking, before swallowing it down as far as it will go- and then Wade’s got his hands in Logan’s hair and he’s fucking pulling, nasty.

Wade’s brain seems to come back online slower than Logan has ever seen him take to regenerate - he can tell because he’s staring up at Wade, who is just open mouthed gaping down at him like he can’t believe what the fuck is happening, little gasps coming out in puffs of breath while he holds on for the ride of his life.

Logan dips down even further, pushing Wade’s left leg up and over his shoulder so that he can cant the other mans hips up and delve his tongue deep into the center of him - finally jolting a strangled cry out of Wades mouth, and thank fuck for that because Logan was afraid for a moment that maybe he broke him. His nose is pressed up against Wade’s little throbbing dick and he’s got his tongue so far inside of Wade that he feels like he’s digging for gold, before he stuffs a finger in alongside his tongue and slides his nose up and over so that his lips seal against that cock. He closes his eyes and starts jerking his finger up and in towards himself while he sucks at Wade, and then he’s slipping a second finger into the wet, tight, heat of him.

It lasts forever and not long enough, seconds ticking by into minutes as Logan works his tongue and fingers in

tandem, steadily pumping his hand into the slick tunnel of Wade's pussy.

Wade makes an unusual (or is it? He can’t wait to see…) squeal, and raps his knuckles once against Logan’s skull before he gushes; absolutely gushes, and bows his back at an angle that would have meant he would be on the floor if Logan’s arm wasn’t wrapped up and around his left thigh, holding him tight up against Logan’s mouth. Logan keeps going until he hears Wade sobbing, and then gently eases the leg down and his mouth away, but not before pressing a tiny kiss to that beautiful little dick. He presses another into the pocked skin of Wade's thigh.

Wade is panting, and curls in over himself while he sets his feet to the floor, hands on Logan’s shoulders. Logan holds him at the waist, tipping forward and using one hand to tuck up Wade’s trousers. Logan can feel Wade's legs quaking.

Logan's hair is fucked, and his face is worse, beard slick-dripping down into his tshirt. He looks up from the floor, holding onto Wade's hips as he stands, trying to gauge what's going through the other man's head. He distantly recognizes that he’s rock hard, dick pressing roughly at the zip of his jeans, before he starts to hike himself up off the floor, maintaining contact with Wade as much as possible.

Wade’s hands slide down his chest and gets an obscene handful of Logan’s ‘tits’ before leaning back in for a kiss and nearly breaking Logan’s nose with his own. They stand wrapped around each other for just a beat, before they break apart.

“Home?” Logan is wiping the schmutz from his face with the sleeve of his shoulder, still not straying far from Wade, as the other man adjusts himself in his pants, Wade just nods and straightens himself out even more. There isn’t much in the way of being able to compose yourself after a romp in the bathroom of a gay club, and Logan looks every bit as fucked as he feels. His hair is sticking up, and the knees of his jeans are soiled with dirty liquid from the floor. His face is red, because existence is fucking brutal and embarrassing and the fact that he has to go out in front of other people looking like this might actually be the thing that ends his existence, but Wade takes his hand and strides out of the bathroom through the club confidently and for what its worth Logan gets some sting of winners pride. He passes the shitheel that was all over Wade earlier, fingers interlocked with the other man, clearly moving to get the fuck out of the bar, and he raises a single eyebrow at the younger man - who rolls his eyes and turns away.

They walked here, and Logan thinks distantly, that maybe the titanium fucking rod in his pants will settle the fuck down when they step out of the sweaty club and into the fresh air of the night, but it doesn’t seem like it has any intention of calming the fuck down and neither does the racing of his heart. Wade walks in front of him in silence, and Logan is absolutely terrified that he fucked up whatever little semblance of peace he might have had, quickly calculating how many more days until payday and if he can get a hotel room with the money in his wallet - panic induced stupor churning angrily in his head. But Wade’s hand is steady and he seems content when he looks back at Logan with a little smile, and so Logan takes the first of a few steadying breaths before he continues on to follow Wade home into the night.

They manage to make it all the way to the porch before Logan tries to pull away from Wade, just looking to retrieve his keys, but Wade turns and faces him fully. Logan has an icy moment, fumbling with the keyring before slotting the key into the lock and turning it; resolutely not looking at Wade as he opens the door into their shared space. The dogs are both waiting patiently on the couch, and Logan steps to one side so that Wade can slip his shoes off in the entryway, before toeing his own off and kicking them away to one side so that Al won’t trip on them the moment she decides to leave.

Wade makes his way over and sits on the couch, before lighting a cigarette and gesturing to Logan to come sit with him. He does, sitting a respectful distance away from the other man, and not touching him. Logan swallows hard and starts to open his mouth, but then Wade is passing the cigarette over and they’re sitting in almost total silence, in the dark. Logan knows they need to talk about it, but he takes the cigarette between his lips and stares holes into the side of Wade’s head and wonders who will be the first to break the silence.

Wade grabs the remote, flips the tv on to some bullshit channel with infomercials playing lowly for background noise, and Logan thinks it must be around 3am by now, and then Wade is turning to look at him. “So, peanut, not that this hasn’t been literally every wet dream of mine since I was old enough to have them, but what the fuck was that?”

Logan watches as Wade licks his lips after speaking, still throbbing hard and dead set on making this as respectful as he can manage to make this conversation. He sets his jaw, hands bunching in the material of his jeans and fights tooth and nail to get the words out, “What, like you hated it?”

Fuck, he’s whiffed it completely - Wade is laughing, and Logan relaxes a bit, “No, Logan I didn’t hate getting my soul sucked through my cock in public. But why now? I’ve been dropping not so subtle, entirely romantic and not at all desperate, hints at getting my hands on you for almost a year and a half.”

There’s a vein near Logan’s temple that ticks with the beat of his heart, and for a moment he thinks that there’s just too much blood in his dick and that he didn’t quite hear Wade properly, “Romantic?”

Wade plucks the cigarette away from him, puffing it a bit before flicking the ash in Logan’s general direction. “Well, maybe it was a touch more platonic than all that, but you get the idea.”

Logan wants to be anywhere but here, and he stands, intent on fleeing to the bathroom to take care of himself so that they can pretend this night never fucking happened when Wade is hooking a finger through his belt loop, pulling himself up to a standing position and crowding his face over Logan’s shoulder to breathe a cloud of smoke into Logan’s face.

“You wanna take that dick to the bedroom and wait for me there?” It’s an invitation as clear as any he’s ever gonna get, and Logan nods jerkily and takes a step forward - but Wade is pulling him back to bite at his ear and jesus christ he thought he was hard before. “Lose the clothes, peanut.”

Logan is practically stripping the moment he steps away, Wade breaking off to take the dogs to the back yard, caring as anything and Logan thinks he might love him more than he’s ever loved anyone in his life, but fuck he needs to tamp that down and just take whatever it is that Wade is willing to give him, platonic or otherwise; getting his hopes up is a recipe for trouble and he’s just not willing to lose it all like that. Not when he’s finally got it. Logan nearly trips out of the jeans, balling them up and throwing them at the hamper, mouth dry and dick harder than any adamantium. He slips onto the bed, propping himself up against the headboard and pulling the sheet up around himself so that he’s not so exposed if Wade is just fucking with him. God, please don’t let Wade be fucking with him.

The room is dim, Logan has clicked on the bedside lamp on his side, when Wade comes through the door, whispering quietly to the dogs as he shuts them out of the room (because he’s a good fucking parent, of course.) and turns to look over at Logan.

“You’re a good listener. Has anyone ever told you that? You get a gold star, peanut.” Wade is stripping his shirt over his head as he talks, mouth muffling as it gets caught around the neck hole by his mouth, “There’s some lube in my nightstand for sure, but I dunno about a condom. It’s been a minute.”

Logan practically throws himself across the bed to get to Wade’s drawer, jerking it open and staring down into the almost pitch black of it, before leaning up and clicking on Wade’s lamp. The light is dim, but shines directly on a fat stash of sex toys, and Logan’s face flushes as he shuffles them around to find what he’s looking for. There are no condoms that Logan can find, but his hand latches around the bottle of lube and he straightens up to look back at Wade.

“No condoms. D’you want-” He swallows, watching as Wade strips out of his slacks, “I can go get some.”

He wants to do this right, and if that means taking the fucking time to go find a convenience store that’s open at ass o’clock in the morning to grab a pack of condoms, he’ll do it. He won’t even question it.

“Nahh. You haven’t been sleeping around much lately, right, cowboy?” Wade is so certain, and Jesus he has no idea the dry spell Logan has been in, it’s been so long that he thinks it might burst if Wade looks at it for too long, “Besides, it’s not like I can get you pregnant.”

Logan doesn’t have shit to say to that, because Wade is crawling up the bed towards him, smiling slyly and perfectly confident. He straddles Logan’s hips over the covers and grabs the lubricant with one hand, tugging down the sheet with the other and exposing Logan.

Wade presses his lips to the corner of Logan’s mouth and he releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding, leaning into the kiss. His hands are hovering, unsure of where to put them and what he’s allowed to touch until Wade grabs one of them and pulls it to his own body, first sliding Logan’s fingers over his waist and then up to paw clumsily at his chest. Logan wraps his other hand around Wade’s waist and presses the other man closer to him so that they are touching more wholly, and Logan swipes his tongue over Wade’s lips. It’s then that Logan realizes Wade is touching himself, arm stuffed down the length of his own body to reach into the very core of him.

At this point, Logan is willing to do whatever it is that Wade wants, no questions asked. They don't talk about it, but god, he hopes they actually will, when this is all over.

Wade pulls back and stuffs his knees up close to Logans hips, and the he’s got his slicked up hand on Logan, thumb toying with the head of his penis and rolling against his foreskin, and he’s dropping his hips down and rolling up into Logan, and jesus fuck he’s so wet and hot. Logan’s got one hand pressed against Wade’s heart and one hand on his waist and Wade is running this show, pressing the tip of Logan’s cock to his hole and then pulling it up to rub against his fat little dick, slick as anything and Logan’s heart is jackhammering in his chest. He can feel Wade’s little puffs of breath against his face and he presses their cheeks close together to lip at Wade’s scarred chin, and this moment is the most intimate thing Logan has experienced in nearly one hundred years.

Wade is absolutely teasing him, and Logan squeezes a bit at Wade’s hip: Either urging him on or begging, he can’t even be sure it isn’t both, and Wade finally relents. Wade sinks down so fucking slowly, and Logan has to close his eyes and remind himself to breathe through it without biting through his lip, preferably. And christ but Logan is clinging to Wade for all he’s worth, stone-stiff and afraid to move and make Wade wake up and realize what a bad idea this is; but then Wade is seated fully, and pulling away to press his hands to Logan’s shoulders. He shifts his grip and he rocks his hips - it knocks the wind out of Logan for a moment, and then Wade is fucking bouncing on it like his life depends on it.

Logan slides his hand from Wade’s chest and down to his hips so he can shift the angle a bit, and plants his feet. He lets Wade take whatever he wants, go at his own pace and does his best not to shoot off on the upswing every time Wade lifts his hips. Wade is putting all that hyperactive energy to use, and Logan is silent as the grave. He’s letting little gasps of air out against Wade’s neck and Wade is eerily quiet, breathing out on Logan’s inhale.

“Logan,” He almost misses it, when Wade whispers his name on the exhale; he’s concentrating on not coming and not taking a fuckin bite out of the man riding him. Wade is breathing the words into his ear like he’s afraid to be too loud, “Logan, touch me. Come on baby boy, don't make me do all the work.”

Logan grits his teeth and in an instant flips the two of them over- knocking a grunt out of Wade. He’s hiking Wade’s knees up to his ears and plowing into him. He’s got one hand wrapped around the back of Wade’s knee, pushing it further up, and the other is snaking down to thumb at Wade’s cock, sitting fat and pretty between the two of them. Logan gives everything he’s got, biting at his lip and laying into Wade with most of his strength. He doesn’t want to break Wade’s hip, so he holds back and tucks the other’s foot over his shoulder.

Wade, fucking insane and cock drunk, pulls Logan’s hand off his leg and down to his throat where Logan rests it. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t tighten it, just applies the pressure that grounds Wade to him. Every thrust Wade is making punched out little gasps, open mouthed and panting and Logan thinks that if this is all it takes to shut Red up he could have been doing this the whole time.

“Wade.” Logan is close, and doesn’t want to stop, but Red’s eyes are rolling back in his head and he’s squeezing at Logan’s wrist where he grabbed at him, and that’s when Logan starts to apply actual pressure to Wade’s throat. He’s got one hand pressing tight little circles into Wade’s cock with his thumb, and the other hand pinching with two fingers and his thumb at Wade’s throat - Wade’s eyes shoot open and Logan is pretty sure he isn’t going to last much further, but there it is, Wade is coming around him and clenching even tighter when his body snaps tense.

Logan’s hips start to stutter, breath coming out in harsh pants and he fucks Wade though it, giving as good as he’s got in him before he’s shooting off inside and they should have fucking talked about that but it’s too late now, so he just keeps pumping his hips as he slows. He pulls his hand up and away from Wade’s throat and wipes some drool away from his lip, and pulls the other hand to hold at Red’s thigh and lower him down onto the bed. Wade’s eyes catch his and he smiles a somehow shy little smile at Logan, and Logan is flushing like anything. Logan sits back on his knees and the corners of his mouth tip up a bit at Wade.

They do a little shuffling, and they’re half sitting, half laying against each other when Wade pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his bedside table and passes one off to Logan, who takes it and presses it between his lips. Wade snatches a lighter from near the lamp, lighting his own cigarette first and then turning to flick the flame on at Logan.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Think you can stay out of that metal brainbox for a few minutes longer, or do you need to come with me so that I can keep you out of there?” It’s almost mocking, but the way that Wade says it, Logan knows he’s trying to keep himself safe, and keep Logan safe. How easily it would be to slip into a headspace where they don’t talk about this night, let it go and leave it alone and just keep living day to day like it never happened. But Logan doesn’t want that, and god dammit Wade is the one who made it okay for him to want things again. He nods, affirmative to which he isn’t sure, but he stands and holds out his hand to help Wade stand as well.

Wade slips off the bed and over to the laundry basket where he pulls a pair of shorts and some top out, opting to bend and slide on the shorts first. Logan can’t help but stare at him, feeling a growl rumbling in his chest as he watches come drip down Wade’s leg. He blinks at himself, and Wade rounds on him with a raised brow, shorts now fully in place and blocking Logan’s view.

Logan, still flushed, abandons his view of the other man. He sits gingerly back down on the edge of the bed and pulls the sheet over himself. Wade, in turn tugs the shirt over his head and slips out of the room, careful not to step on Charlotte who has posted up outside the bedroom door. Logan realizes, dully, that Wade must have left the television on for them, or to try and cover any noise the two of them made.

It only takes Wade a few minutes, but for Logan the seconds tick by at a glacial pace and he pinches his face at the prospect that this might be the only time he gets to have this. He thinks about how absolutely flawed his plan was, following Wade into that bathroom, and how everything has turned out so far since then. This might be the catalyst for the other shoe to drop, though, and Logan feels ice shred through his stomach at the thought of leaving this life behind -

“Uh oh, the demons got ya. I knew I should have made you hold my hand while I peed.” Logan snaps his eyes up to where Wade is standing at the edge of the bed, already stripping out of the clothes he pulled from the hamper and putting a knee onto the bed to crawl towards him, “Get the fuck in the bed and cuddle with me, handsome. I’m talking real good aftercare for both of us.”

He shifts, looking warily over at Wade, who is scooting his entire body as close into Logan’s space as he can, and Logan lays down - reaching up to click off the lamp and holds up the sheet so Wade can get under it. Wade shoves his head forward into Logan’s armpit and tucks his arms around his waist. Logan waits a beat for him to get comfortable, but after a minute wraps his arms around Red. Wade doesn’t say anything else that night, but if he does Logan isn’t sure of it, because after a while of listening to the other man’s breathing evening out, his heartbeat slowing, Logan falls into a comfortable sleep.

The first thing he realizes is that Wade isn’t in his arms anymore - because the fucker is under the sheet, sucking Logan to hardness in the morning light. It’s early, and Logan blinks the sleep from his eyes as he pulls the sheet up to stare down at Wade.

The other man pulls off, smiling at him, but strokes him still with his hand, “Morning, peanut, did you sleep well?”

“What?” Wade chuckles and swallows the head back down, pumping his wrist at the base - Logan fully erect, and only still confused a bit. Wade is a shitbird, Logan knows this, but he didn’t expect to be pulled from sleep this way. All thoughts go out the window when Wade sticks his tongue between the underside of Logan’s cock and the foreskin, licking at the glans and rubbing his thumb at the vein along the shaft, “Jesus Christ, Wade.”

Logan flings the sheet away and grabs at the other man, unsure if he’s trying to ground himself in this reality or just pull Wade closer. Wade, on the other hand leans in, taking Logan to the root in an instant - face pressed in close to his pubes, hands resting comfortably as anything on Logan’s thighs. Logan thinks that maybe this is how he dies, getting his soul sucked out through his dick as his eyes roll back in his head.

There’s a growl rumbling in his chest that he’s trying to keep quiet, but then Wade is rolling his balls in his hand and backing off a bit so that he can stroke Logan while sucking at the head of his cock and all bets are off on how loud he’s being, so he clamps a hand over his face and bites into the flesh of his own palm. Wade sucks him back down, alternating between sucking hard at the tip and tightening his throat around Logan while he takes him as far down as he can go.

“Wade-” Logan is right at the precipice, and Wade pulls back, sitting on his heels and grinning down at Logan like the cat who got the cream. It doesn’t last long, because Wade is shoving his way over top of Logan to seat himself fully on his cock like he fucking owns it, and to be fair, Logan lets him.

He rests his hands on Wade’s thighs as he grinds down, rolling his hips in slow circles; Logan can feel the hard stop inside of Wade when he presses down, cervix kissing at the tip of his dick in delicious pressure. When Red finally picks up and drops down slow, Logan’s hand chases up to rub at the little dick Wade’s got packing, encouraging him to go faster. Logan plants his feet and starts thrusting up into Wade meeting him thrust for thrust, knocking little punched out sounds out of the other man as he bites his lip to keep quiet. Logan is sweating, teeth bared and brow furrowed as he puts as much force as he’s willing to behind his thrusts, trying to keep a steady pace but failing as he starts to come undone.

Wade reaches one hand down to his thigh and grabs at Logan’s fingers, entwining his and Logan’s together. That’s how they come, Logan first and then Wade riding through his own orgasm before slumping forward to lay out over top of Logan’s chest. Logan doesn’t pull out, but tucks Wade’s head into his neck before rolling them on their sides. He toes up the sheet and tucks it over both of them, laying there while they breathe together listens to Wade’s heartbeat calm.

When Logan wakes up again, Wade isn’t in the bed, and it’s later in the day judging from the sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Logan blinks up and looks at Charlotte, who has been let into the room and is pawing at his chest. He reaches up to stroke her face, thumbing over a scar near her eye, before he sits up to get dressed.

He sighs, eyeballing the cracked door and listens to hear what’s going on in the living room. The TV is running low and Logan can smell at least one cigarette burning. He slides from the bed and wrestles some pants on, thin joggers that are comfortable and worn. He’s not sure if they’re his or Red’s but he’s damn sure they’re more normal than whatever Wade is wearing in the living room. He huffs as he pulls on a shirt, thinking about those stupid fucking ‘juicy’ pants, before he peels out barefoot into the hall. Charlotte trails behind him happily, eager to start the day.

He passes by the back of the couch on his way to the back door, eyes falling on Wade and Althea sitting and smoking together. Wade smiles up at him, offers up the cigarette from his own lips.

“Morning, peanut. Did you sleep well?” Wade is mocking him, and he can’t help but chuckle as he takes the cigarette between his lips and continues walking to the back door to let the dogs out. He steps out onto the back porch and Charlotte follows him, but Mary must have stayed where she was, stomach up on the couch with Wade.

As Logan turns to close the door behind the dog, Wade slips through it and picks the cigarette out of Logan’s mouth. He tucks himself, knees to chest, at the top of the porch stairs, and after shutting the door, Logan follows him. They look out at her as Charlotte looks for the perfect spot to tinkle, sitting in a comfortable silence.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” Wade, as usual, is the first to break the silence, “Or are we just going to forget about it. Whatever you want, big guy, I’m flexible. But you knew that, haha.”

Logan looks over at Red and for all that he knows the other man, he can’t read his expression. He looks embarrassed and a little shy, but that can’t be right because Wade is the most confident fucking person Logan has ever met in his life. He doesn’t know where he keeps the insane amount of balls he’s walking around with, but Logan thinks that maybe it’s a little bit of a show and a little bit of a truth.

“I-” Logan starts with a dry throat and an even dryer tone, “I was thinking the same. Whatever you want.”

“Nu-uh, peanut. I asked you first.” Logan swallows hard, following along the line of Wade’s face as the other man stares out at Charlotte.

“I don’t want to. Forget about it, I mean.” Logan feels alien in his body, trying to stay grounded and not give into the feeling of checking out.

Wade makes an aborted turn to him, before staring back out at the yard. His hand is splayed next to him, and Logan reaches out and bumps his pinky against Wade. It makes the other man jerk his eyes down to their hands, and then up to Logan’s face.

“I don’t want to forget about it either. It’d be a damn shame not to get to ride that face ever again.” He’s joking, but not mocking, and Logan tries to hide the smile cracking along his face, but Wade is smiling all stupid at him and it’s nearly impossible not to smile back at that stupid fucker when he looks all soft and happy like that. Wade hooks his pinky around Logan’s and they face out to the yard again, and this isn’t talking about it, but it’s not not talking about it. Maybe they don’t need to wax poetic about it to understand each other, “Besides that, someone’s gonna have to get you pregnant someday, peanut, and who better to do that than me? It’s hard work but I’m willing to make that sacrifice-”

Logan shoves at him gentler than he deserves, really, and they’re laughing into the morning air.

Laura starts up at school a few weeks later, spending part of the week at the mansion and Friday through Sunday at home with Logan, Wade, and Althea. Logan thinks that maybe the kid is the bravest of all of them, because she’s willing to put in the work to actually seek out this universe’s X Men, Wade still doing whatever the fuck pulls him out of Logan’s arms at night. Althea and Logan spend their evenings playing bridge and chain smoking, and if Al does a little cocaine in her room before they play, well who the fuck is Logan to tell the old woman what she can’t do. Logan spends his days at the plant store, moving trees and some of the biggest philodendrons and other shit that the girls shouldn’t have to cart around, and then comes home at night to play with the dogs with Wade.

It’s early, when Logan feels Wade slip into the bed and crawl up to cuddle with him, eagerly sticking his face into Wade’s freshly showered neck. He blinks there, sleepily, and mutters a quiet, “Love you,” before falling back asleep against the other man kissing at his eyelids.

Notes:

Stay tuned for my next work, the sequel to this fic. Be gentle with me, dear readers. It's basically my first time.

alright gamers I wrote a deadclaws fic.

obligatory Hozier lyric title, domestic idiots to lovers, only one bed, TRANS WADE WILSON

listen it's like 22k words of me just trying to get Logan happy in his new world.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59852647?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_831874750

#i laugh like me again #wade and logan #wade wilson #deadclaws #poolverine #logan howlett #slow burn #logan x wade #Deadpool and Wolverine #worst!logan howlett #theyre my blorbos and o can do with them what i want #wade x logan #wade winston wilson

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