We Met at the Bar - Anonymous (2024)

Chapter 1: Cigars Are Sexy (But They Smell Like Ass)

Chapter Text

Wade Wilson

He first saw him at the bar.

It was a local place, small. Nestled up in the North Dakota mountains. Wade wasn’t a huge fan of the cold, he himself preferred sun bathing on a beach and relaxing with a slutty little martini if he was feeling feisty. He wasn’t a fan of the cold, but he had found himself up in North Dakota during Winter. Whatever his preconceived feelings on the snow or cold were, he was a fan of money. And who wasn’t?

Wade Wilson was a hunter. And he didn’t hunt your garden variety fauna. No, he was what was more colloquially known as a mercenary. A very fancy word for a paid murderer. Maybe a paid serial killer if you’re good at your job, which Wade was.

He wasn’t up in North Dakota to admire the blizzard-y view, that’s for sure. He had rented a little cabin, one bedroom, extremely fucking cozy. And most importantly, inconspicuous. As far as anyone was concerned, he was here to hunt deer or elk. Despite his more logical reasoning, he had brought along a friend on his little trip. A small dog lovingly named Mary Puppins. Although God was not very loving in her creation. She looked fucking hideous, and Wade adored her.

He didn’t know how long he would be up here, and instead of going stir crazy like some hermit in the woods, he was going to have company. He didn’t think that someone would straight up John Wick his dog, but he did keep a smaller blade holstered along his thigh when he slept.

All that is what brought him to the aforementioned local bar, and what brought him to meet him.

Wade pushed open the door, hearing the faint rattling of a broken bell above the door as he gratefully made his way in from the growing whirlwind of painfully icy snow outside. His hands quickly cupped to his face as the door struggled to close behind him. There was your usual bar atmosphere inside. Drunk men sitting at tables playing cards, or catatonically staring at the TV which was playing some fucking sports game. Mötley Crüe’s Helter Skelter played at a medium volume—much too lively of a music choice for this comatose crowd.

It was everything you would ever want from a small town bar. Really, the whole package. Wade took his seat at the bar, only momentarily taking a glance at the man hunched over beside him. The bartender made his way over after Wade got settled, placing his gloves on the counter and still trying to thaw out his fingers.

“What’ll it be?”

“Beer will do.” The bartender nodded, turning to grab a fresh glass and fill it with foaming, delicious beer. When he was served, he flashed a smile, taking a deep gulp. He didn’t plan on getting shit faced on beer, but drunk driving would be the least of his crimes to begin with.

There was a thumping on the counter as the man beside him shifted, “Another.” It was a gruff, almost silky tone. Wade noticed the smoke billowing from the cigar he could just barely see a portion of. From his voice and demeanor, he would have expected a man in his 40’s, maybe 50’s. But when the bartender poured another glass of what he could only assume was whisky, the man took a drink and revealed his startling young looks. He had to be in just his late 20’s. But damn did he look mean. Wade was getting major ‘don’t poke a sleeping bear’ vibes, but well…Wade was never good at making smart choices.

”Holy shit, look at you.” Wade took a drink of his beer, marveling at the rugged man beside him. “Did you just crawl out of a teenage girl’s ‘bad boys weekly’ magazine? The beard is a choice.” Wade motioned to his own face, eyes alight with fascination. The other man only shot a terribly cold glare in Wade’s direction. His hair was combed back, though had a particular look. The two edges seemed to fork up in something that Wade could only compare to cat ears. But that wasn’t all in the hair department. He sported a sort of mutton chop style—connecting all the way from his hair, down his sideburns and to the edge of his chin.

Wade liked women—but he most definitely wasn’t opposed to swinging any way, especially if it was this man’s way. When the sulking stranger didn’t respond with much more than a glower, Wade continued.

“Smoking cigars, drinking—what is that—whiskey? Leather jackets and denim…” Wade ‘tsk’d, “Naughty. Do you ride a motorcycle by chance? Have you ridden a motorcycle? I bet you have.” The stranger placed down his glass of whiskey, pulling the cigar from his lips as he held it between his fingers.

”Do us both a favor and shut the fuck up, bub.” Hearing that sultry, gravely voice telling him to shut the fuck up was a wet dream come true. Something else registered in his mind along with the tinge of arousal. This man was Canadian, and the way he spoke had Wade believing even more that he was way older than he looked.

“Forgive me for not shutting the fuck up—how old are you? I’m Canadian myself and I haven’t heard the term ‘bub’ for—well a long damn time. You have the youthful looks of a 20 something year old but you talk like my great grandpa.” The man took a puff of his cigar, turning to blow the smoke square in Wade’s face. He sputtered and coughed, waving it away as the stranger looked at him with those terrifying arched and furrowed eyebrows.

The man stood from the bar, placing down his money for his tab—and it was a lot. Wade wondered how many drinks this guy had slammed over his coughing and wheezing. Cigars looked sexy in the right hands, but holy shit did they reek. Without another word, the stranger turned and sulked his way out of the bar.

Wade partly wished he could know more about that mysterious, brooding man. But he knew that some things were better left to the imagination.

And to the imagination they went, late at night in bed where Wade pondered the events of the day and went over his rights and his wrongs. Obviously the prominent subject of his overthinking had been that man. A rugged leather Canadian who had the faintest growl in his voice when he told you to fuck off. Now that, that was the stuff of fantasy. Except he had been real. Very real.

Wade’s momentary obsession over the subject wilted away as he drifted off to sleep that night. Though he couldn’t quite shake the smell of the cigar smoke nestled deep in his senses.

Chapter 2: Nurture VS Nature

Summary:

We learn more about Logan Howlett. He continues to bump into an increasingly familiar face.

Chapter Text

Logan Howlett

The cage fights helped numb some sort of itching feeling in his chest and in his arms. Under the skin, between the ligaments and just waiting to come out.

His head snapped to the side as the fist connected with his jaw. Logan swallowed. There was always some part of him that wanted to just let go. He stood up straight, turning his gaze to the opposing man. He held his fist in pain—it seemed like the punch hurt him more than it hurt Logan. There was always some part of him that…he was very afraid of. Like an animal who was cornered, lashing out with vicious teeth and swipes.

The cold dog tags on his chest jingled as he stepped forward, winding back a punch and then there was almost a metallic sound as his fist met his forehead. Logan wondered if he had cracked his skull open, and furthermore if he cared. The man fell to the floor with a heavy thud, knocked out cold.

The thunderous crowd boo’d and screamed. Logan’s fingers intertwined with the wire fence of the cage, keeping his head low. His chest heaved, the noise creating a ringing in his ear. Everything was always too loud. He only wished he could hear like them—maybe even be like them. His gaze raised, glowering at the angry and insolent faces looking back.

The Wolverine.

That’s who he was in this moment. The announcer called his name over the microphone. It didn’t mean much, except money. Who didn’t like money?

Logan’s eye caught on a particular face. His slouched body straightened up and his eyes widened minutely. He looked familiar, and among a crowd of faces screaming at him for one reason or another, this one was completely silent with a look of fascination, maybe. Logan wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t negative. Their gazes connected and the man outside the cage waved at him. Logan turned away from the fence of the cage.

The cabin of his truck was frigid inside when he climbed in. Though the cold never bothered him much. And he was glad for it, because that meant he didn’t have to spend more on heat or waste resources being warm. Logan glanced in his side mirror, eyeing the trailer attached that carried his motorcycle.

That man at the cage had been the same fucking guy from the bar. Logan grimaced as he lit his cigar, leaning back in the driver’s seat. The guy had asked too many questions—too many valid questions, and looking at his motorcycle now, he couldn’t help but think of that dumb fuck asking him if he rode a motorcycle. I bet you have. The voice in Logan’s mind sneered.

Huffing a breath, he put his key in the ignition and started the vehicle. Backing out carefully and getting on the road.

Normally, he liked to drink after fighting. Well, he liked to drink after anything, but tonight his mind was too preoccupied with somehow running into the same idiot twice. He wasn’t about to make it a third time, either. Logan lived alone, he travelled alone, he was utterly alone.

Sometimes he wandered the forest and just lived among the other animals. It was easier than doing cage fights every night to try and gain some sense of living in society. In the woods, he could hunt whatever he liked, eat whatever he liked and be however he liked. No ogling or stares or whispers of ‘I know what you are’.

Logan wasn’t like your average person. His senses were incredibly heightened for one—once he got your scent, he could smell you coming before you could even lay eyes on him. His hearing was also rather extraordinary. But that wasn’t all of his abilities.

He parked the truck a little off the main road, turning the engine off. It was snowing outside steadily, the sun lowering in the sky to give minimal light to the surrounding area. It was a dark, deep blue. Logan kept the cigar clutched between his teeth as he opened the door and hopped out. The smoke from the burning end seemed even more pronounced in the cold.

Logan just started walking. Not in any particular direction or with any destination in mind. He just walked. Sniffing the air, he could smell the oil and gas from his own engine, which would serve as a way to find himself back to his ‘home’. If you could call it that.

His hands flexed, listening to the dead silence among the trees. It was always quiet during winter. Logan preferred it this way. Without the idle chatter of birds or smaller critters, he could hear anything.

After a few miles in, he stopped. Sniffing the air a few times. A new scent mingled with a more familiar one. The flexing and aching in his hands worsened. Logan clutched his fist and tried to relax. Trudging through the snow, he followed after the scent. Pausing every now and then to relax his hands.

Soon the scent carried him to small clearing with a cabin. The lights were off and all the windows were dark. The scent grew stronger and Logan looked down. A small, incredibly fucking ugly dog looked back up at him.

“Hey, bub.” The dog looked as though it could barely make it through all the snow, but still had the nerve to begin growling at him. “I’d be pissed off too if I was as ugly as you.” Logan decided quickly that he didn’t have any business at this cabin or with this dog when the little fucker started barking at him. While the dog was incredibly small, it had a nasty bark. He turned and clambered his way through the snow. His senses peaked again as the second, more familiar smell grew stronger. He glanced back, which was a mistake.

In the clearing, there was a man. Holding a gun. Logan cursed under his breath, the pain in his hands growing once more. And this time, he didn’t have time to spare on relaxing them. Facing forward again, he began running through the snow, his jeans and boots already damp with water.

A shot rang out and buzzed in his ears before there was a sharp and sudden burning in his thigh. He almost collapsed in the snow, but steadied himself. Before he could realize just what happened, his arms straightened out and, from each knuckle, three metallic blades sliced their way out. Logan could only grit his teeth and howl in pain, both from the blades and the very apparent bullet in his leg.

What kind of asshole shoots on sight?Logan wanted to turn around and simply slice this guy a new one, but he thought better of it. He was technically trespassing after all. Though he didn’t doubt the stranger had seen two pairs of metallic blades glinting in the moonlight. He quickly dropped to all fours, using the claws as leverage in the snow to leap away from further possible bullets.

Somewhere along the way back to his truck, he heard the small clinking of the bullet falling from his leg. Looking down, although there was a hole in the fabric of his jeans, and blood drenching the edges, his skin was perfectly in tact. Logan gritted his teeth again as the claws retracted back inside, making room for themselves once again.

Back at his truck, he swung the back door to the camper portion open, swatting the already hanging clothes out of his face as he stepped up inside. He made quick work of unbuckling his belt, pulling it out of the loops and stepping out of his jeans. He threw it up over the wire that held the other equally dirty, torn and bloody clothes. Searching around for a fresh pair, he quickly realized that had been his last good pair.

Logan took in steady breaths. He’d have to go clothes shopping. He turned his head, looking around the cluttered and unkempt space. Furrowing his eyebrows, a growl built up in his throat before he turned and punched the camper wall. Pain shot through his knuckles and forearm as the claws extended out, puncturing the apparently thin material.

Uttering more increasingly loud swears, he pulled his fist from the wall. Aside from the dent, there were 3 evenly spaced slits in the wall. Logan looked out at the snowy street and trees through them. He swallowed another bought of rage as he looked at the claws.

He had gotten better at controlling them, but they still seemed to just jump out whenever he was feeling any sort of heightened emotions. Most especially—anger or fear. It was a defense mechanism, though it was incredibly destructive and painful. Logan only wished that he would get used to the pain of metal blades slicing through the flesh and muscle in his hands, though it was somehow worse when they retracted back inside.

Logan slumped against the wall after pulling the jeans back from the wire. He’d have to do his best to wash out the blood, and just deal with the hole in the fabric.

And tomorrow, he would go shopping for more clothes.

Chapter 3: Bigfoot and Other Honorable Mentions

Summary:

Wade begins the arduous process of finding his target. Along the way, he finds a few more interesting details about his new best friend.

Notes:

This chapter has a bit more dialogue than anything ACTUALLY happening so erm…yeah.

Also, sorry if the dialogue is stiff, especially for Vanessa
I want to include her but it’s harder for me to write somewhat interesting dialogue between her and Wade since I’m not SUPER invested in their relationship.

I’d appreciate any feedback, and a thanks to all the people who have already left comments and expressed enjoyment in this fic, whether it be subs or bookmarks :)

Chapter Text

Wade awoke in a cold sweat. It drenched his skin and he could feel the sheets wrapping around him uncomfortably. Checking the clock on the bedside table, it was only 10 pm. The sky outside the windows could have fooled him, because it looked like it was midnight. Quickly, Wade checked for his knife beside his thigh. It was still there.

When you hunted people for a living—people who could hunt you back, you tended to pick up the habit of never quite sleeping easy. Wade wasn’t sure what exactly had woken him up—if anything. Though it wouldn’t be long until he noticed one blatant fact.

Mary Puppins was not sleeping with him. He threw the covers off, revealing his Hello Kitty boxers and baggy t-shirt he usually wore to bed. Yes, he was a grown man, and yes he killed people for a living. So what? Hello Kitty was an icon.

It was cold as shit in the cabin, and Wade could just feel his privates shrinking in on themselves, Hello Kitty boxers be damned. He quickly threw on some sweatpants and one of his heavier coats. He might be Canadian but he wasn’t so Canadian to the point where he had a plaid pattern coat. It was just a dark red color. When he reached the living room, he discovered why it was nut numbingly cold. The front door was cracked open, letting fresh snow pile in the opening on the welcome mat.

Fuck.

Wade pulled on his snow boots, grabbing a fancy little rifle from his duffle bag of treats. He preferred to work with his katanas or pistols, but he was merely taking this for the possibility of having to fend off some common predator or trespasser. In a few seconds flat, he was stumbling out the door into the cold night.

It wouldn’t be hard to find Mary Puppins’ trail, she was practically swimming through the snow rather than walking in it. Precious little thing. Wade rounded the corner of the cabin toward the back of the clearing, following the unsettled leaps in the snow. Then, as it travelled in a straight line, he lifted his head.

There was a small little Mary Puppins in the distance, right at the tree line. Above her was a figure which while was mostly in the shadows, was slightly outlined in the moonlight. It turned away, beginning to walk into the trees.

Wade had only really intended to do a warning shot. But well, with all the shadows and the snow, the wind trajectory was just all off—he shot him. He shot that man right in his leg, BY ACCIDENT, mind you. However, Wade only realized just how gravely he had fucked up when a hair raising yell echoed in the clearing. Then the fucking 6 blade finger knives showed up. Wade could see them glinting harshly in the minimal light. The metal was smooth and clean, almost like the blades of his katanas, in fact.

At the thought of having shot this goddamn werewolf, he nearly turned and ran back to the cabin without another look. He’d probably be fucking hunted down for a century, he’d have to invest in silver bullets and wolfsbane. Luckily, the figure leaped off into the woods, furthering Wade’s theory of it being a werewolf.

Mary Puppins had ran back to Wade’s leg after all the sudden commotion, but she otherwise seemed fine. She was a tough doggy. Wade was deep in thought—and not just about his possible future werewolf franchise. Maybe a book series turned movie adaptation.

He had heard about mutants before—on the news mainly. They were all anyone wanted to talk about. How dangerous they were—how inhumane and violent. Wade wasn’t a moral temple of any kind, and he had jobs that involved mutants at times, when given the right tools for the job. Whether they were truly horrible or not, a job was a job and Wade thought the same of human targets.

Wade’s current target was a mutant, and he briefly considered that he had just seen him. But it was only brief, and he quickly disregarded it. The target was in this area, but no one knew just how many mutants there were who lived in secret. Either way, he hoped that guy didn’t come back for him and didn’t have a tendency to hold grudges. Wade generally tried to avoid collateral damage from his missions.

His shivering and teeth chattering brought him back to the very frigid reality that he was still standing out in the snow. Bending down, he quickly scooped Mary Puppins into his arms, turning to run back to the cabin.

What he hated most about jobs was the boring nitty-gritty aspect of actually finding them. Most people didn’t give a shit to answer questions, they were too focused on their own lives to notice anyone except themselves. Wade didn’t blame them, he was just like that. Although every now and then, he’d find a diamond in the rough.

He was looking for a man with short blonde hair, almost a buzz cut but not quite, and mutton chops. That style wasn’t uncommon, especially once you got more rural. But it was funny when Wade had first found that grumpy guy at the bar. His face was much like the picture of his target—except for the fact that he had dark and longer hair. Their resemblance was off-putting, which was only a small portion of why Wade had called him out.

They had those same, extremely lively eyebrows that never got a rest.

When he entered a diner that morning, he got his first big break in finding the guy. This time, the bell above the door jingled properly, and Wade was all but practically slapped in the face with the smell of bacon and pancakes and coffee. It was a small town paradise, if not a little run down.

Wade took a seat at one of the many empty booths, picking up the menu to look over it. Although his methods were unorthodox—he always was successful. Well, mostly always. And yes, his method did include ordering a plentiful breakfast and coffee. He couldn’t fight on an empty stomach.

After a few minutes, a waitress approached him. Her hair was a dark brown, somewhat past her shoulders and a bit wavy. She had equally dark brown eyes with just absolutely perfect eyeliner. Wade was envious. He set the menu down.

”Find anything you want to order?”

“How many guys have said ‘you’? I like to be original.” The woman’s otherwise neutral expression slightly shifted.

”Too many, you should probably start with not saying anything at all. That’d be original.” Wade felt a smile pulling at his lips.

“In that case, I’ll just take a plate of pancakes with a side of hash-browns.” The woman smiled, writing down the order and stepping away to the kitchen without another word. While Wade sat and waited, he arranged the plentiful sugar packets in a little design. Angling them to represent two pointed edges atop a head, broad shoulders. Maybe he should have taken up abstract art instead.

When the waitress returned, Wade quickly swiped the packets away, making room for the plate of food.

“Enjoy—,” She turned, but Wade still had more to say.

”Wait,” she stopped, “What’s your name?”

“…Vanessa.”

”Well Vanessa, I have a question,” he fumbled around in his jacket pocket before pulling out a folded up photo.

“You’re about to lose your original streak…” Wade simply ignored her and unfolded the photo, holding it up.

“Where would you find a guy like this?” She raised an eyebrow. Wade would be damned if he lost his original streak, and he was sure she’d never been asked something like this before.

“Probably not in some shitty diner that hasn’t seen a reservation in a few decades.”

”I thought shitty diners were the epicenter of crack addicts fist fighting in the parking lot. Ever been to a Denny’s?” Vanessa kept a solid expression, but Wade knew he had got her.

”Didn’t know I was dealing with a seasoned pro.” Wade put the photo away, biting back a smile of his own. “You’ll probably find a guy like that at cage fights. I had an ex boyfriend who looked kind of like that. Beat the shit out of me, but he won fights.”

”Trauma dump at first sight, is this the infamous third base?” Vanessa finally cracked, a smile spreading across her lips.

“Enjoy your food, buddy.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Later that evening, Wade would indeed find himself back at the large warehouse that held the fairly low-key cage fights. Right next door was another bar, equally as shady. Trucks were driving in and out of the parking lot, laughter filling the cold air as Wade watched his own breath.

Wade began to head toward the doors to enter, a revolving door of mostly redneck looking people. But then something caught his eye. Wade turned from the doors, heading to a parked truck with a trailer attached. A man was leaning against it, cupping his hand around a cigar as he tried to light it.

“Hey, bad boy’s weekly!” The man lifted his head, straightening up from where he was leaning against the camper on the back of the truck. An immediately annoyed expression graced his rugged features.

“What the fuck did you call me?”

“Nevermind that,” Wade approached, glancing toward the trailer which had a tarp over it. Wade began to reach out to lift it, but the man quickly stalked over and swatted his hand away,

“Don’t touch my shit, bub.” Wade raised his hands defensively, backing away only slightly.

”Easy princess. Are you carting around Prince Charming’s corpse back there?” Wade only felt amusement at the way the man set his jaw, and maybe even a vein on his neck was beginning to bulge. Although he had seen this guy fight, and he wasn’t willing to push him that far.

“Why the hell do I keep seein’ you. If you’re followin’ me, bub, I’m not opposed to makin’ you scarce.”

Okay, okay…I’m not following you, and I definitely don’t want to fight you.” At that, the other man seemed to relax, even if it was only slightly. As much as Wade would love to be under that man, he didn’t want to be under his fist. He continued trying to light his cigar, though his gaze seemed trained on Wade. Wade wasn’t complaining.

He decided to extend the metaphorical olive branch—his hand, for a hand shake, “My name’s Wade.” Successfully lighting his cigar, the man eyed his hand before turning to lean against the camper again. Ouch, rejected.

”Logan.” Call him Cinderella, cause the shoe fit.

“Alright, Logan. Now that we’ve officially met, I just wanted to say what a huge fan I am of your work. The Wolverine, huh? Sounds like a super hero name. If super hero’s fought in shady underground fighting rings and drank alcohol like it was water.”

“Is this all you do?” Logan growled out the side of his mouth, not even sparing a glance at Wade now.

“Is what all I do?”

”Talk. Fuckin’ talk. Is that all? Don’t you got a job or somethin’, bub.”

”My job is why I’m here, princess.” Wade watched Logan’s jaw shift again, but this time he didn’t say anything. Wade once again fished into his pocket, pulling out the photo. “Have you seen this guy at all? Heard about him, anything? You fight here, what, every day? Every few days?”

Logan looked at the photo, pulling the cigar from his mouth. A few select emotions flashed across that perfectly handsome face, but Wade didn’t know him well enough to translate them into something that made sense to him.

“Don’t go lookin’ for ‘em, bub.”

“Thanks for the thoughtfulness, but I can handle myself, princess. But I’m not opposed to being rescued by a strong man every now and then, if you’re offering.” Logan grinned a very unhappy grin, shaking his head.

“As much as I fuckin’ hate you, I can’t let some clueless idiot waltz right into death, and that’s what you’re doin’. If you got a brain rattlin’ around in that thick head of yours, you’ll listen to me, bub.” Ominous monologue aside, Wade wasn’t much deterred. How could he listen with this gorgeous man saying he wanted him to be safe? Sometimes, you had to read between the lines, as delusional as it may look to everyone else.

“Well…I’ll keep that in mind.” Wade stuffed the photo back into his pocket, smiling brightly in the cold night. Though, his hands were starting to get frigid and he wanted to get back to the warmth of his car. He was surprised when he noticed that Logan didn’t even wear any gloves, and it didn’t seem as if the cold affected him one bit. “See you later, princess!”

“Nope.” Logan turned and began walking into the building. Wade wanted to watch him continue to go undefeated, but he still had work to do. From Logan’s reaction, he had most likely seen or heard of the target. Wade glanced down as the other man walked away.

Not because he was ogling, contrary to popular belief. But because he had noticed something.

Although it was dark, there was a small, circular rip in the fabric on the back of his thigh. There was an uneven ring where something had been poorly bleached from the denim. Wade had done his fair share of laundry to know what that was.


It was blood, from a gunshot to the leg.

Chapter 4: Sweet Dreams, Princess

Summary:

Logan goes against his best interests and finds that someone else had the same idea as him.

Chapter Text

His chest heaves with increasingly rigid breaths. Held down by an incredible weight, the bones burning deep inside. He is on fire, melting down inside.

The bell rings. Out for the count. He is out for the count. Boiling, the feeling of needing to scream but being completely paralyzed. Rigid breaths.


What is happening to him?

A dozen drills, whirring inside his skull. Whirring, buzzing, ringing.

Logan’s eyes pop open and he sits up abruptly in the driver seat of his truck. His face and body are slick with sweat, glancing around to try and regain his bearings. The upholstery of the passenger seat is gutted, leaving deep gashes where the cushion is spilling out in chunks. Logan has a mind-splitting headache, and he can’t remember where he is. For a moment, it feels as though his life has hit a reset. Just for a moment.

He looks at the diner through the windshield, the wipers carving a circular window through the snow coating the edges of the glass. Inside it looks warm, an orange glow melting out just past the large windows. Inside, people are scarfing down their meals happily and chatting amongst each other. Logan remembers where he is when he finally picks him out again. Wade. That’s his name.

Logan relaxes in his seat, his eyes lingering on the man. Watching as he flashes smiles at the waitress. She always lingers at his table. Logan doesn’t get what is so fucking interesting about him. All he does is talk. Looks is all about he has going for him, because his personality is like a dog hopped up on cocaine. Always some fucking joke.

He realizes he’s been clenching his jaw tight for a time when it starts to ache, and he forcibly loosens up.

He shouldn’t be wasting his time on this, sitting in his truck watching this dumb fuck flirt with a woman. She’s not even interested in him. Logan had slept around enough with anyone who would take him to know. But then again, the not knowing is what led him to finally catch on.

The worst part about him was his eyes. A dark brown color that always seemed seconds away from crazed delight. The guy was probably fucking insane, actually. His eyes were always so wide, always smiling. In fact, he definitely was insane for thinking he could even get close to Victor Creed.

When Logan noticed the waitress handing him his check, he lowered himself in his seat, still trying to keep his eyes on Wade. Honestly, Logan couldn’t give a shit if Wade saw him following him or noticed him.

He was utterly fucking oblivious though, because he walked out to his car without a care in the damn world and turned out onto the road. Logan waited a good minute before starting his engine and following after him. The road curved and turned for miles. Logan had driven all over this town, and he had driven in this direction, but not quite this far.

Eventually, they turned onto an unpaved road, the snow building up on the edges and flooding the trees. It was another minute or so until Wade arrived at his destination. Logan turned his truck off into the trees, parking it in a more secluded area. It was a cabin, not just any cabin. The cabin of the fucker that shot him in the leg—and it was just his fucking luck that the guy was Wade.

Logan watched him get out of his car and shuffle into the cabin from the trees. Slowly approaching the cabin, Logan watched him through the windows. Of course, there was that ugly dog. Even through the walls, he could hear murmurs of Wade’s voice.

Hey girl! Did you miss me? I missed you.

Wade would grab a bag of treats from the counter, the dog lolling that disgusting tongue as it drooled. Then, Wade was walking off toward the back part of the cabin, stripping his coat and shirt and—pants…

Logan watched as this grown man stripped down to bright pink unicorn fucking boxers. Wade should invest in curtains, or invest in taking the time to close them. When Wade started to pull those down too, Logan finally averted his eyes. When a cold breeze hit his face, he realized how he was burning up. But he attributed it to the cold. Nothing else.

Leaning against the outer wall of the cabin, he listened to the muffled sound of a shower starting. Then, the muffled sound of music being turned up. Then…the less muffled sound of Wade loudly singing Make Me Lose Control by Eric Carmen.

WHEN I LOOK IN YOUR EYES, I GO CRAZY!

FEVER’S HIGH WITH THE LIGHTS DOWN LOW—,

Logan tuned out, sniffing the air. Over the scent of Wade and his dog, there was something else. His heart pounded in his chest, his pupils dilating. The claws in his hands sliced their way out, and he grunted and furrowed his eyebrows. The scent got stronger.

He suddenly jumped out of the way as a figure leaped from the woods. His sharpened fingernails clawed the outer walls of the cabin in his wake. Logan let out heavy breaths, seeing it visible in the air. Victor turned to face him, and for a moment they were at a standoff. Victor smiled, his elongated canine’s peeking out.

”Thought I might find you here when I realized a mercenary was after me. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Logan’s eyes stayed narrowed on Victor, but he didn’t say a word. “Still the stoic silent type, huh?”

Victor leaped at Logan, extending his arms. He stumbled out of the way, slashing his claws along Victor’s arm as he passed. The other growled, quickly turning again and tackling Logan to the ground.

Claws ravaged his face, but his own metal claws impaled Victor. Hot blood splashed against the snow and drenched his shirt and coat. There was stinging and shouting and swearing. Logan turned to bite Victor’s hand, taking a chunk and his thumb with it. He spat it out into the snow, and in the brief lull in Victor’s onslaught, managed to find himself on top.

He dragged his claw downward, still imbedded deep in Victor’s chest. A deep guttural howl erupted from him, and he swiped his own hand, catching Logan’s neck. It was a fruitless battle. They were both nearly evenly matched, except for Logan’s skeleton. Victor pushed Logan off with his claws still slicing his neck. He sputtered, feeling blood in his mouth and throat.

“Always have to be a fuckin’ hero, don’t ya? You aren’t a good guy. You can’t save anyone. You’re too much like me.” Logan grabbed Victor’s wrist with his hand, but a few moments later, the other man was extracting himself from the fight. Before Logan could get up and continue, Victor had escaped into the woods again.

Logan only laid in the snow, spitting blood as the wounds in his neck and body began to work on closing themselves up. Rage burned in his chest. His face was wet and cold with the open claw marks. After a few moments, he stumbled up to his feet. His claws retracted and he huffed a shaky breath. Walking around the side of the cabin, he looked in the windows until he reached the front door.

He spat more blood into the snow, reaching his hand to knock. Before it could connect, the door swung open.

Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell—?!” Wade’s voice died in his throat as he looked at Logan. Wade was wearing only a towel, his hair still soapy and dripping with water.

“Can I come in?” Logan’s voice rumbled in his still healing throat. Wade finally seemed at a loss for words as he stepped aside, allowing Logan to lumber inside and look around before collapsing on the couch. From where his hand was hanging toward the floor, the dog came up and began licking him. Logan, for the time being, didn’t care.

“How are you alive right now? Who did such a horrible thing to your awesome face? You look like you’ve been put through a shredder!” Of course that idiot being speechless could only last a few blissful seconds. Logan swallowed more blood, sucking in a breath as his hand carefully touched at his face. He couldn’t see it, but he knew Wade was right.

“Victor Creed.”

“Holy shit. My target did that?” Wade paused, the gears in his head probably turning toward some conclusion, whatever the fuck it was. “Wait, why were you outside my cabin? Were you following me?” When Logan didn’t respond, only staring off at the ceiling, Wade cooed. “Awwww, you care about me! I knew that tough, mysterious outer shell was just a cover up for the fact that you’re a big softie.”

”Shut the fuck up.” Logan stood up from the couch, gritting his teeth as he moved over to the sink. He turned the faucet on, cupping his hands and trying to drink some water to wash the blood out. Logan swished some of it around in his mouth before spitting it into the sink.

“Look, I know it’s probably a touchy subject right now, but I figured I’d get it out of the way in case you’re holding a grudge against me—so I’ll just come out and say it. I’m sorry for shooting you the other night. In my defense, it was an accident.” Logan stopped spitting water into the sink, lifting his head and looking toward Wade.

The other man tilted his head when he saw Logan’s face. Untouched, not even so much as a scratch. Blood lingered on his skin and in his hair, but past all that, it might as well be someone else’s blood. “Trust me, bub. If I held a grudge, you’d know it.” Logan reached his hand to inspect his own throat, feeling it equally as regenerated. “How did you find out it was me out there?”

Wade blinked before seemingly snapping out of his trance, “I’m assuming you don’t change clothes often. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you smell, princess.” Logan grunted. He had indeed neglected to change his pants until he bought more. He began to pull his jacket off, shedding the tattered shirt underneath right after.

Oh my Mary-Mother-of-God—You should warn a guy before you start sluttily undressing in his living room.” Logan brushed off his comments for the time being, looking over his chest. The wounds there were a bit deeper, still in the progress of closing up.

“You got anythin’ to eat?” Logan was very suddenly starving. He tossed his bloody and ripped clothes on the floor. Luckily his jeans were still relatively intact. Enough to be wearable.

“Sorry, kitten-whiskers. Need to go grocery shopping.” Wade began to walk toward the back of the cabin—most likely the bathroom. Logan only glared after him. What was with this guy and calling him stupid shit? “I have some extra clothes that might fit you, if you want them. After I’m done showering we can go get something to eat. Like a date.” Logan rolled his eyes, staying silent as Wade disappeared into the bathroom.

Before doing anything else, Logan grabbed a hand towel near the sink and began washing the blood from his chest and neck and face. The cloth was white, but Logan didn’t really care. Maybe it was simple pettiness for Wade having shot him.

He soon found his way into the single bedroom, looking around. The bed was unmade, a few stray pairs of boxers strewn on the floor. It smelled strongly of Wade in here, naturally. Like cheap cologne that just barely masked blood, sweat, and gun powder. Opening the closet, he looked over the selection of clothes. A few t-shirts with absolutely ridiculously stupid graphic designs, hoodies, tank tops, sweaters.

Eventually Logan just pulled a black sweater from the mix. He wasn’t too much bigger than Wade, but when he put it on, it was a more slim fit than he would hope for, mostly at the shoulders. Logan paused after he closed the closet. An inching feeling in his chest as he grabbed the neck of the sweater, pulling it up to his nose and sniffing.

Logan blinked, unsure at what he had just done and why. He would move on quickly from it.

His stomach was getting more impatient by the minute, but he was glad when Wade seemed to finish up quickly, appearing from the bathroom with still damp hair and fully dressed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting princess, I had to make sure my breath smelled good.” Logan furrowed his eyebrows. What the hell did that even mean. Whatever it meant, he wasn’t going to shoot himself in the foot by asking. He was starting to realize that Wade only got worse when he reacted and responded.

When Wade offered that he drive them, Logan was glad. He wasn’t exactly prepared for Wade to see his own living conditions and the recently damaged passenger seat. All that didn’t even include all the other damages to the vehicle from past nightmares or outbursts. Some things were best kept private.

“So, why do you think Victor didn’t stick around?” Wade suddenly broke up his idle chatter on the way to his car. “I mean, it seems like he beat your ass, no offense, so I don’t see why he wouldn’t stick around to meet me too.” Logan paused. That was possibly one of the most intelligent lines of thought Wade had yet.

“Think it was a warning more than anythin’ else. Me and Victor go…a long time back.”

Ooo, tell me more over our date!”

Not a date. I’m makin’ that very clear, right now.”

“Okay Mr. Looks Goddamn Incredible In My Sweater.”

Chapter 5: Totally a Date

Summary:

Wade and Logan go out to eat. Wade realizes their growing relationship may be more complicated than he had initially thought.

Notes:

Fought with ao3 for an hour to log in so I could post this fucking chapter.

This is SORT OF just a silly little chapter and more growth on their relationship :) one step forward, two steps back.

Chapter Text


Wade sat and sipped at his beer, watching as Logan completely annihilated a full steak. At one point, he wasn’t even using the knife anymore, just sticking it with the fork and chewing off chunks. For once, Wade felt comfortable to shut up for a minute or two and live in the moment, and that moment just happened to be observing this man eating like a wild dog.

After a few seconds, Logan’s eyes glanced up at him from the plate, “What?” His voice was muffled around the food. And Wade thought he had poor table manners. Wade glanced around before looking back at Logan with a shrug.

”Me? I’m just admiring the view, kitten-whiskers.” Logan’s attention quickly turned back to ravaging that piece of meat. “Do you always eat this enthusiastically?” Logan grunted, finishing a few bites before speaking.

”Only after healin’.” His voice lowered a slight bit, glancing around. They were sat at a booth, somewhat far from any listening ears who might hear about Logan’s abilities. Wade nodded. All he had was a beer—even though he had offered to go out to eat with Logan, he wasn’t really hungry. He had eaten at the diner barely an hour ago, but he couldn’t resist this opportunity, for one reason or another. Wade hadn’t thought all that through yet.

But he did know one thing, which is that Logan knew more about Victor Creed than anyone. Wade figured he’d lead with more casual questions before prying for any possible trauma. What? He was tactful when he needed to be.

“Do you have any other abilities? I mean aside from the whole basically invincible to damage thing, which is sort of what you lead with, right? Hey, does that mean you’re cheating at all those cage fights? I won’t snitch, pinkie promise.” Wade held out his pinky, which Logan promptly ignored. Rejection was a bit easier to swallow the second time.

“Hearing, smell, strength…” Logan glanced off to the side, “And yes, technically, I’m cheatin’. Sometimes you have to play to your strengths. Even if it’s unfair.” There was a glint in Logan’s eye which threw Wade.

You cheeky bastard. Okay, tell me more about the hearing. How far does it go?” Logan set the remaining bite of his steak down on the plate, placing his elbows on the table as he glanced around the bar.

“I’ve sort of learned to tune most of it out. It’s all useless background noise. But if I focus…I can even hear your heart beat.” Wade became suddenly conscious of a feeling in his chest. Logan’s finger tapped the table in a steady beat. “I can hear when it increases—decreases. I could know when you’re lyin’ just on that, bub.” Wade’s heart skipped a beat, and he swore he saw the faintest ghost of a smile on Logan’s lips.

Goddammit is there anything about you that isn’t fucking awesome?!” Logan sat back in the booth, grabbing his own beer beside his plate.

”I can think of a few things.” Logan took a drink. There was a shift in tone at that. Wade almost felt his own mood shift with it. But he had to focus, he couldn’t be too caught up in bad boy’s weekly. As much as he sort of wanted to be.

“What happened between you and Victor?” Wade was pushing the envelope now. Logan turned the beer bottle on the table slowly with his fingers. Condensation dropped on the outside, leaving a ring underneath it. He was almost there…Wade could feel it. Reaching and reaching—but then Logan pulled away again.

”You can’t get him without me, bub. You need me, otherwise he’ll kill you.” Logan lifted the beer, taking another drink. “You want to kill him? I’ll help you. But don’t think this means I respect what you do, bub. Or that I like you, ‘cause I don’t. You’re an annoyin’, stupid little prick.” Wade stared as Logan took another drink. He could only focus on the fact that Logan refused to look at him as he said all of that.

“Duly noted, sweetheart. We ain’t all ‘buddy-buddy’. We ain’t best bubs. I got it.” Wade held a calm expression on his face, but his insides were alight with a particular feeling. He wasn’t sure what caused the change in Logan’s demeanor. Wade had almost got him smiling, a real smile. And then he goes on and calls him an ‘annoying, stupid little prick’.

What was up with this guy? It seemed like he never lightened up, and when he did, that cold angry behavior only doubled down harder. Talk about dramatic. Logan finally looked at him, finishing off his beer. Wade would have expected a glare, or maybe just complete disinterest from the other man. But when Wade looked—really looked at him.

He just looked a bit broken down.

“I know you hate me and everything, but it doesn’t feel right to have you sleeping all alone in your little camper-truck-thing when we’re supposed to be a team effort.” Wade stood in the doorway of the cabin, trying to lure Logan in. Wade was nothing if not full of determination and lack of social awareness.

“We’re not a ‘team effort’. Besides…I just, don’t do well, sleepin’ with others.”

“You don’t have to share a bed, princess, you can sleep on the couch.”

”Not what I mean. Just—for fucks sake, let me fuckin’ do what I need to do. I’m not fuckin’ sleepin’ here, how clear do I gotta make that.” Logan had gotten progressively more snappy. It didn’t help that Wade kept pushing and nudging. Although he was determined, he didn’t know when to quit. He could admit that. Logan’s glare lingered on him, his pupils small pinpoints. Slowly, he averted his gaze, looking out into the trees.

After a long silence, Wade couldn’t muster another joke or comment. “Alright.” Logan’s shoulders shifted a bit, glancing back at Wade.

“If somethin’ happens…just yell. I’ll be close by.” Logan turned and walked through the snow. His entire body seemed tense, and Wade felt tense as well. He couldn’t let it leave off on this extremely depressing note.

”Logan!”

He paused, only slightly turning to look over his shoulder.

“Give my sweater a good sniff when you start feeling lonely so you’ll think of me!” Logan grimaced, muttering under his breath as he turned back to continue walking away. Wade watched after him until he disappeared into the tree line. But he couldn’t help but keep thinking about…everything to do with him. Maybe Logan was more seriously closed off than he had originally imagined.

Wade could just be totally delusional, but for a minute there, he thought him and Logan were truly getting closer. Then something happened.

Chapter 6: Regrets, and More Regrets

Summary:

Logan has a rough night, and acknowledges he has a serious issue to face.

Notes:

This chapter was so fun to write I’m not even gonna lie.

Like a Prayer started playing while I wrote the last few parts of it.

Chapter Text

Logan was glad when he finally reached his camper. Swinging the door open and climbing inside past all the clothes and boxes that littered the floor. Almost immediately he was raising his arms and pulling the sweater up over his head and tossing it away. The smell was overwhelming. It had stuck in his nostrils for some time, and it was driving him fucking crazy.

His heart was pounding. Fuck. Fuck, “FUCK!” Logan kicked a box of trash, sending it toppling and spilling everywhere. Something was deeply wrong with him, although it didn’t take thoroughly pushing Wade away to know that. He had known it before, it only just made itself further apparent now. Logan ripped off the dog tags around his neck, tossing them in the same direction as the sweater.

That is what he had done. Push Wade away. The first person he had talked to, genuinely talked to in fucking years. Logan couldn’t handle it. He had been through hell and back but goddammit he couldn’t handle someone being close to him again.

He lived alone, he slept alone, he was utterly alone.

Logan took out the pullout bed, sitting on the edge and listening as the springs creaked loudly underneath him. All he could do was put his face in his hands. He had said he didn’t like Wade—but that wasn’t entirely true. He hated Wade, but only because he just couldn’t fucking stay away. Wade couldn’t stay away from him, and Logan didn’t want him to stay away.

It seemed the more human and social aspect of his psyche had finally caught up with him. Logan had never really had anyone to talk to, especially about his nightmares. Once upon a time he had Victor…but well, that was over, long over. There were women here and there. They were all gone too. Leaving Logan by himself. Some parts of him were uncontrollable.

Like the moments right after he wakes up from a nightmare. It is blinding, mindless rage.

The nights where he didn’t have nightmares were few and far between. And he knew after today, they would be in full swing tonight. Logan lifted his head, staring into the dimming blue light of the camper. There was no use delaying the inevitable, and Logan laid down to sleep.

He knew it would be a long night.

Rope and wire wrapped tight around him. Pulling, confining. A barren mountain coated in snow. A mindless beast.

Screaming and pained yowling—some of it, Logan realizes, is his own voice.

Help me.

Help me!

FUCKIN’ HELP ME!

The screaming intensifies, his ears are ringing at the sound. He wants to make it stop, all the incessant noise. The shouting, and yelling.

Logan! Listen to me!

A mindless, uncontrollable animal.

This is hell.

This isn’t hell. This is innovation.

I’m in hell.

A soft hand touching his face, it smells sweet. Gentle, nice. Opening his eyes. The woman looks afraid, mouth hung open.

I’m sorry.

It’s okay, princess.

Logan wakes up to his own voice, a growl dying in his throat when he opens his eyes in the dark. It is freezing, but he is holding something tightly to his face. Taking in deep inhales he realizes it’s the sweater. Wade’s scent filling his head. The fabric is clutched so tightly in his hands that it might not hold, and Logan loosens up.

He pulls it close to his chest, eyebrows knitted together. His heart wells and he fights off the urge to cry. Shaky breaths fill the freezing space. Maybe he’s feeling cold, too. Pain lingers in his head, and somehow the sound of his own screaming reverberates in his mind.

Logan wished he had a drink right about now. He could use it. He can’t remember the last time he couldn’t use a drink, in all honesty.

Standing from the bed, he kept the sweater held under his arm as he pushed the camper door open, stepping into the snow. It is even colder outside—the wind is howling, and Logan tries to shake off the uncomfortable feeling rising in his stomach and lungs. He isn’t far from the cabin, just like he said.

To his surprise the door is unlocked when he tries the handle. It creaks open slowly. Inside is a lot warmer, and Logan quietly shuts the front door and locks it after he enters. There’s a thought in his mind lingering, about how stupid Wade is for leaving easy access to his living space, but he lets it pass.

Logan begins to rifle through Wade’s cabinets. He doesn’t expect to find much, but he’s hoping for a drink. Leaving the doors open carelessly as he reaches a small stash of medical supplies. Gauze, bandages, quick first aid. Without a second thought, Logan grabs the large bottle of rubbing alcohol, heading over to the couch as he unscrews the cap.

It is disgusting going down, but it does the trick. Over the sound of the heater, he can hear little paws tapping across the floor, momentarily muffled by rugs. It’s the dog. Logan still doesn’t know its name—but ‘Bub’ is just fine with him.

With a grunt, he sits down on the couch. The dog jumps up beside him, and Logan swears that it mimics his grumbling as it sits and looks up at him. Logan takes another drink from the rubbing alcohol. He roughly pats its head.

The dog grumbles more and paws at Logan’s arm. “What? Don’t look at me like that.” He looks toward the bloodied rag that still sits on the kitchen counter—the same one he had used earlier. When the dog starts whining, Logan huffs and finally relents, scooping it up in his arm and holding it to his chest. “Bastard.”

The rubbing alcohol gets him more tipsy than just whiskey or beer—considering that it has the potential to seriously hurt a human. Logan looks over the mess he made, soon glancing down to the quietly content dog in his arms.

”What’d’ya think, bub? Did I fuck up?” The dog looks at him with those bug eyes it has. Logan feels stupid for talking to this dog—that maybe since he’s a mutant, it might understand him. He takes another drink to avoid the impending hangover. The rubbing alcohol is practically half empty now. Half full for the optimists. “I know I did. Guess I don’ know how t’stop fuckin’ up.” His words slur, just a bit.

Logan sets the rubbing alcohol on the floor beside the couch as he shifts to lay down. He wraps Wade’s sweater around the dog so that her paws won’t scrape Logan’s bare chest. “Do ya think he’ll understand? You know ‘em. I don’t.” The dog lays her head close to Logan’s chin. It feels nice to say his thoughts out loud to someone—or something that can’t say anything back and doesn’t have a reason to judge him.

He wasn’t even sure why he cared so much about what Wade thought of him, or how he had made him feel. But the idiot had stuck around even past first impressions, so maybe that was worth something.

Logan awoke to the sound of the TV, quickly shifting to sit upright, glancing around rapidly. His foot kicked something on the way to reach the floor,

Shit!” Logan furrowed his eyebrows as he looked to the floor, seeing Wade sitting on the floor with his back against the couch. Logan had very much accidentally kicked his head in his hurry to regain a sense of his surroundings. “Watch where you swing those things, kitten-whiskers.” Wade winced a bit as he rubbed the back of his head.

“What the fuck are you even doin’ on the floor.”

“Well, you just looked so adorable cuddled up with my sweater that I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you up just to sit down.” Logan hadn’t intended to fall asleep—especially not while he was holding Wade’s dog. There was a brief sick feeling in his stomach as he imagined different outcomes, like if he had another nightmare. Or if Wade had tried to wake him up—would he have attacked him?

”You still in there, Logie-bear?” Logan looked toward Wade again, who was resting his arm over the couch cushion as he looked up at him. ‘Logie-bear’ was a new one. He only grunted, rubbing a hand over his face. At least he had slept through the hangover from the rubbing alcohol. Remembering what he had done last night, he looked toward the kitchen, noticing it was all cleaned up now.

“I’m…” Logan searched for the words. His body nearly strained at the thought of spouting an awkward apology, but it had to be done if he wanted to try and even pretend he was better than he was. “I’m sorry…” Wade looked taken aback and Logan averted his gaze firmly away.

“For what?” Logan set his jaw and frowned. Maybe Wade was just rubbing it in, forcing him to wallow in self pity and grovel at the fact that he was an asshole.

“For…goin’ through your cabinets…drinkin’ your rubbin’ alcohol—,” saying it out loud just made Logan feel even more shameful. His shoulders hunched. “And for…sayin’ what I did, about you. I didn’t—really mean it.” Fuck that had been painful.

“Oh.” Oh? “I couldn’t give less of a shit about the rubbing alcohol, I can always buy more. Especially if pookie very apparently needed his fix.” Even though Wade had just called him another stupid name, that was oddly a weight lifted off his shoulders. “I know you didn’t mean what you said. It’s okay, princess.”

“How do you know?” Logan spared a glance toward Wade, but kept looking away when Wade was still looking back.

“Because, if you really meant all that you would be letting me get myself killed, right?” Logan only muttered a slight agreement before Wade continued. “I may have laid awake at night thinking and eventually crying myself to sleep—BUT I know you have your whole ‘tough and mysterious and incredibly standoffish but in a really sexy and brooding way’ thing. I’m getting off track.” Wade waved his hands dismissively, and Logan felt the need to force down a smile. He wouldn’t give Wade the satisfaction.

“Basically, I get it.” The yapping idiot finally finished his twisting and turning stream of thoughts.

“That probably could have been trimmed down.” It was Logan’s backwards way of conveying that he appreciated him saying all that. In fact, that probably didn’t get conveyed.

Oh no, sweet-cheeks. I’m all improv.”

Logan rolled his eyes, though it was more playful than anything, “Idiot.”

”Yes, and?” Logan couldn’t stop the laugh that left him at that. Shaking his head as he looked toward the TV. For a moment, he might’ve been able to hear his own heart increasing in pace inside his chest. Logan hadn’t felt such a need to laugh or even smile in a while, so it felt…good. It felt good to laugh.

After a few long seconds of Wade still being silent, which Logan felt was extremely uncanny, he looked toward him. Wade had a near proud smile on his face as he watched the TV. The dog was in his arms now, licking his cheek.

”What’s her name?”

“Mary Puppins.”

That tracked. Mary-fuckin’-Puppins.

Chapter 7: Long Awaited Exposition

Summary:

Wade finally manages to get some details out of Logan.

Notes:

Does anyone read the summaries. Everyone say no so I don’t feel bad about writing the most non-descriptive summaries.

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

Chapter Text

“Wow, princess, is this your castle? More…cozy, than I envisioned.” Wade looked around the small and damaged (to put it nicely) space. He ran his fingers along deep claw marks etched into the wood counter. Wade had yet to ask about the finger knives he saw—whatever those were, but seeing the marks littered about was chilling enough. Logan tossed trash and clothes aside as he searched for his dog tags.

Logan’s little home smelled just about as good as you would expect once you got a whiff of the man himself. Wade would have thought that with Logan’s self proclaimed ‘enhanced smelling’, that the guy would know when he reeked. He wasn’t sure whether it was worse if he knew he smelled bad and didn’t do anything about it, or if he had just spent so long in it that he was completely nose blind to it.

The other man’s irritated grumbling brought Wade back from his thoughts about Logan’s cleanliness. “Why do you need them so bad, anyway?”

“I just do.” Logan flipped up the pull out bed with ease, as if had no weight at all to it. Wade could see that the springs were even reinforced as well, but Logan didn’t look like he weighed much more than your average adult man. The grumbling and growling finally ceased as he found his cherished dog tags.

Only problem left—the chain looked beyond broken. Logan seemed momentarily irked by this before shoving them in his jean pocket. He had put Wade’s sweater back on, not without Wade making a snarky comment about them being official boyfriends now. Logan didn’t seem all too amused by that one.

They walked back toward Wade’s own car, and Logan got into the passenger seat while Wade checked his backseat for his belongings. His duffel bag full of weapons, check. His bullet proof vest and additional protection (condoms not included, they were in his wallet), check. His novelty Hello Kitty charm hanging from the rear-view mirror, fuckin’ ay, check. It was mostly a routine, now. But seeing as Logan had been absolutely mauled not that long ago by a certain someone, Wade was not willing to pull any punches.

Logan was practically fucking impervious to anything, and Wade very much wasn’t. Wade was a little more than a vulnerable bag of flesh and bone compared to the other man. He had what some would call as ‘marked agility and strength’ but that was in human metrics. In mutant metrics, he was just a guy named Wade Wilson who was trained to his limit.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t envious, and who wouldn’t be? Logan had everything except a positive outlook on life and a chipper attitude. Not to downplay the importance of a good attitude. Wade thought he did just fine without it, though.

“So, sugar tits. Were you in the army or military? You carry those things around everywhere but you haven’t mentioned it.”

Logan was silent for a time as they sat in the car. “What?”

“Were you in th—,”

”No, what the hell did you call me?”

“…Sugar tits.” Wade shrugged, trying not to grin too much.

“That is the most ridiculous, fuckin’ stupid goddamn nickname to come from you yet.”

”Actually, Mr. Wolverine, they’re pet names. Much more lovingly selected than your run of the mill nickname. If I wanted to call you a simple nickname I’d just go with something like ‘Lo’. Which is arguably WAY more stupid than the glorious two words that are ‘sugar tits’.”

Logan grunted and shook his head, “Just fuckin’ drive. And to answer your question…yes, I was in the military, at one point or another.”

Wade finally started the engine of the car, backing out onto the driveway back to the main road. A few things about Logan still really picked at him. Like his relationship to Creed. There was most definitely something there, and Wade was starting to suspect it was familial.

“So…I’ve been thinking—,”

Oh god.” Logan murmured, looking out his window.

I’ve been thinking—you and Creed look really similar. Down to the beard style. So I have to ask—is he like…your brother? Is that why you don’t want to talk about him?” Wade had to keep his eyes on the icy road, though he spared a glance in Logan’s direction. Logan was quiet for a good minute, but Wade didn’t say anything else, giving the other time to respond.

Half-brother. That isn’t really the whole reason why I don’t want to talk about him.” Logan paused again. Wade had learned his lesson of pushing him too much, so he shut up and listened. Which was incredibly difficult. “We have the same father.” Wade decided now was his cue to keep asking questions.

”Does he have similar abilities to you?” Logan grunted.

”He’s stronger, bigger. Don’t know about the smellin’ and hearin’. He can heal, like me. His fingernails are his claws. Sharp as goddamn razor blades. He’s a fuckin’ asshole, and for one reason or another, he loves makin’ my life miserable.”

Wade was starting to think that him being sent on this mission was actually just to finally shut him up for good, because how the fuck was he supposed to take down this guy by himself? Not to knock his skills, but he wasn’t fucking magical. Maybe him and Logan were soulmates after all.

”Well I’ve heard of sibling rivalry but never quite ‘shredding your half-brother’s face and cutting his neck open’.” Logan huffed a stiff laugh.

”It isn’t your typical rivalry. Victor is a bad fuckin’ person. I might not—be any better than ‘em, but he ain’t good, bub.” Logan’s voice hesitated, and Wade glanced toward him again. “Anyway, I’m tired of talkin’ about this shit sober.” Leaning forward, he turned on the radio.

The diner was more packed than Wade had expected, meaning any private conversation about Creed would have to be cut. However, he was sure Logan wouldn’t be too distraught over that. When they entered, he did look a bit unnerved at just how many people they were. Wade could see a tense frown on his face as they looked for an empty booth.

Wade had finally found one, navigating past a few people when—,

”Are you a kitty?” There was a small voice of a girl a bit behind them. Wade looked back, Logan pausing with the girl tugging on the end of his sleeve.


”Uh…” Logan cleared his throat, and Wade could see his hand hovering behind her head. He was so absolutely clueless on how to deal with a kid by the looks of it. “Sure I am, kid.” Before Logan could flounder about more, her mother called for her.

”Laura! Stop bothering that man!”

“But mamma—,”

“Go on, bub…listen to your mom.” The girl looked up at Logan before turning and running back. Wade waited until they had gone far enough away before saying anything.

”That was the most precious thing ever, did your heart just grow three sizes, Mr. Grinch? How are you not crying right now!”

Logan grumbled, moving to sit down in the booth with Wade following after shortly. “Shut up.” Wade did drop the subject, but with the way Logan looked intently down at the menu, he knew he was probably just pretending to be tough and cool about it.


“Wade!” Both of them quickly turned their heads to look—it was Vanessa, of course. She always made sure she was the one taking Wade’s order and bringing out his food. Mostly just so she could shit talk him properly, but Wade considered it cheeky flirtation. “Who’s your friend?”

”Friend with benefits.” Logan glared at him.

“Oh really? What’s the benefits?” Wade scoffed at Vanessa’s obliviousness.

What benefits?! Look at him! Even just being in his presence is a benefit.” Vanessa and Logan looked at each other silently.

“I think he actually hates you, Wade. Wouldn’t be the first time you missed the hint…”

“She gets it.” Logan hunched his shoulders as he looked back at the menu. Wade gasped, appalled when he saw the smug smirk on his lips.

“I’ll have you know, Ness, that this hunk of all Canadian beef is a heretic. He’s claimed my boujee sweater as his own, and frankly I’m offended and hurt that my two favorite people would gang up on me like this!”

“This sweater is not fuckin’ ‘boujee’, bub.” Logan chuckled to himself—Wade adored the noise. He had made Logan laugh once before, and it was possibly becoming one of the things Wade loved most. Vanessa cooed.

”You guys are so cute together. You bicker like an old married couple. What’s your name, friend with benefits?” Logan’s face slightly rested into his usual ‘RBF’ (resting bitch face for the uninitiated).

“Logan. I’m gonna assume ‘Ness’ isn’t your full name.”

“No, it’s Vanessa. Wade really does love his nicknames, doesn’t he…”

“You don’t even know the half of it.”

Wade suddenly interjected, “Pet names, remember, kitten-whiskers?” Logan only grunted in response, soon continuing with an order.

”Do ya serve alcohol here?”

“Wade’s that bad, huh?”

”Princess here is just a professional day drinker. Morning drinker. Night drinker…”

“Well, we mostly just serve beer.” Logan and Vanessa practically brushed past Wade’s little input.

“Beer’s fine. And uh…sausage and bacon.”

”Beer, sausage and bacon.” Vanessa nodded before pointing a pen toward Wade, “Your usual?” Wade sighed dreamily.

”You know me so well!” After Vanessa had stepped away, Logan remained silent as Wade yapped on about whatever came to mind. When Vanessa did come back with their plates of food, she oddly didn’t do much more banter with Wade, leaving them to eat their food in peace. Well, Wade to eat his food in peace, because even past mouthfuls of food he still had more to say to Logan.

“Isn’t she great? I mean I thought I was funny but Ness puts me to shame, her brand of sarcastic humor is just—mwah, y’know?” Logan took a drink of his beer.

”She’s alright.”

“She used to be a dancer, can you believe it?”

”Nuh-uh.”

“The first time we met she told me about her ex-boyfriend, and that’s when I knew—,”

“Look, bub, I didn’t fuckin’ come here to be a third wheel to your little fantasy romance, okay?” Logan slammed down the now empty beer bottle, maybe a little too hard, because it shattered on impact. Glass scattered across the table, a shard imbedding itself in the back of Wade’s hand. At most he could only react by jumping back in his seat. The diner grew silent, and Wade could feel eyes turning in their direction.

Logan began muttering swears under his breath, gathering the glass and dumping it on his plate. When he noticed the glass sticking out of Wade’s hand he suddenly grabbed his wrist, pulling the small piece. Wade was still in a state of disbelief when Logan leaned forward, licking the surface level cut in Wade’s skin.

Wade was too busy listening to his heart pounding in his ear to listen to Logan’s begrudging apologies. The other man let go of his wrist, looking to Wade’s face silently. They both stared at each other, Wade’s skin burning hot—almost as hot as his privates.

I think…” Wade started, turning his hand to look as the cut slowly began closing itself. “I’m beginning to regret not taking the rabies shot bundled with my health insurance…” Logan’s face looked like it was turning the same shade of red as Wade’s favorite coat. He quickly stood from the table, stalking out to the car and leaving Wade to stare at the spot he had once been sitting in.

The drive back to the cabin was painfully awkward, the radio turned up and loudly playing Juice Newton’s Angel Of The Morning. Wade had both his hands on the wheel, noticing that Logan was leaning hard into the passenger door.

Wade cleared his throat, carefully reaching to turn down the radio when the song was coming to an end, “So—,”

”I have fights tonight.” Logan cut him off before he could finish whatever stupid thing he was about to say. “If you’re comin’ with, you need to get your shit together before we go in. Whatever the hell you put on when you’re about to kill someone.” Logan kept his head against the glass of the window.

“Well—alright, but why all the foreboding warning?” Logan shifted his elbow to the center console between them, their forearms slightly pressed together.

“I have a feelin’ it ain’t gonna end well.”

Notes:

Classic cliffhanger move on my part, STAY TUNED READERS 😋

Chapter 8: The First Rule Of Fight Club

Summary:

Logan meets his match in the cage. The pair try to recuperate after a bad night.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Smoke filled the air. The scent of whiskey and booze on every passerby. Logan held a cheap cigar in his teeth, looking past the cage. The feeling of being up there, on that platform in front of the crowd never got any better. No matter how many times he was up there. Seeing their looks of rage and sometimes disgust. He was just an animal to them. A dog set against other dogs.

His gaze focused on Wade in the crowd. He had a hoodie pulled over his head, looking back with encouragement at Logan. Under his gaze, Logan felt less like a commodity to be bought and used. Less like a weapon, and more like a person who was fighting for something better than himself. What was he fighting for?

Tonight we have a special treat for all you folks who’ve been losin’ money comin’ out here every night.”

It wasn’t money. Not this time. He puffed on the cigar.

We’ve got a new guy in tonight, says he’s ready to show who’s the best of the best.”

He was fighting for Wade. Cheesy as it may be, that was the truth tonight.

Welcome—Sabretooth!

The cage opened. Logan’s hands gripped the wire of the cage, bending it out of shape. Past the smell of smoke and sweat in the air, he almost didn’t catch it. The slightest hint brushed past his nose. He sniffed.

“Final chance, brother. Take it or leave it.” Logan’s heart rate begin to raise. His hand dropping to his side. Wade’s eyes were round as dinner plates and staring just past him. A younger part of Logan—the one which liked to be playful and smug and a major asshole, was scared to turn around. Was that okay? Was it okay for him to be scared? He didn’t know if he could die, but he knew if Victor had the chance, he’d beat him until he almost did.

Half-brother.” Logan muttered before spinning around, landing a hit right across Victor’s jaw. It only caught the other off guard for a second before the real fight had begun. It wasn’t Logan’s usual MO. Typically, the guys he fought were just your average guys, with egos too big for their own good. Logan would let them get a few hits in, so as to not seem too untouchable.

Then, when they thought they had him, he’d tap them out in a few seconds flat. It was a good strategy, but one that had made a lot of guys irate at him.

Tonight was much different than any of that. Victor had stricken him, hissing and growling as his fist collided with his solid skull. Logan had little time to raise his arm to block Victor’s nails, feeling them dig across his skin and open gashes which bled profusely. Logan huffed heavy breaths, his head pounding from the pain as his own claws sliced through his hands and extended.

In a single second, it had gone from a fist fight to absolute bloodshed. It dripped down Logan’s elbow, small drops hitting the floor and smearing as they maneuvered around each other. Over their own howls and agonized groans, Logan could hear screaming and panicked yelling. There was a flurry outside the cage as people quickly evacuated.

Freaks. Monsters. Animals. Beasts.

Logan swung his claws, again and again, but Victor dodged out of the way. Backing against the metal wire before leaping forward. Logan didn’t have time to block. Razor claws swiped across his face, and at one moment he could see Victor’s pinpoint pupils. The next moment, everything was dark.

He stumbled back, his arms wildly swiping the air in any direction. Warm blood dripped down his cheeks and the pain pulsed up and down his face. He couldn’t see, Victor had blinded him. The only thing he could go on was smell, but the blood and the smoke and the booze muddled his senses. His numbing mind couldn’t help but focus on the one scent he could recognize—Wade.

Logan!” Blood pumping. He twisted and turned, hearing shuffling and laughter around him. Claws raked down his back, shredding the flesh down to his spine. He cried out a guttural scream. A million daggers, bloodshot. A million drills and pins.

Logan, listen to me, goddammit—on your right, princess!” His claws snapped to the right, catching Victor. Mindless rage, and Victor’s thumping heart. Sniffing the air, heavy with copper. Claws dragged across his face as he ripped and dug. Hot blood coating his fists. Victor was coughing, choking.

Logan only snarled as they fell to the ground, punching the space under him with the sharp blades, the sound of ground meat. Even as the sounds underneath him quieted, he continued. His chest heaved, tightening as the breaths caught in his throat. He couldn’t see, what had they done to him? Endless nightmares.

Logan slowed his movements, light beginning to slowly filter in the pitch blackness of his vision.

“Logan?”

He sniffed the air before falling to the ground with a thud. On his back, shadows moved across his darkened vision. First—a hand touched his arm. He flinched away, growling. He sniffed the air.

“Hey—it’s just me, just Wade.” Cheap cologne and blood. “We need to get out of here before Victor gets back up—fuck I don’t know how he will but if he’s like you…Jesus fuck.” Wade’s voice shook and Logan felt him beginning to try and pull him up by his arm. The claws had retracted—but he knew he was too heavy for Wade to lift alone.

After a bit of struggling, Logan finally mustered enough energy to push to his feet. “How are you this heavy? ” He heard Wade’s voice. It all felt distant. His heart still pounded as if it was in the heat of battle. Victor always went for his eyes.

His arm was wrapped around Wade’s shoulder, and he could feel them being slowly walked to the entrance. When they reached outside, the cold stung his still closing wounds. His nose scrunched up in another snarl. Wade’s hand rubbed his arm.

“Just try to rest, kitten-whiskers. I’ll handle it from here.” Wade had sat him in the passenger seat, but Logan wasn’t content to rest. He couldn’t rest—Victor knew where Wade lived. What if Wade was killed while he was out? Logan…didn’t think he could live with himself. He wasn’t sure how he continued to live with himself now.

It was hard to keep awake when he could hardly even see anything. His head rested back on the car seat. Listening as Wade’s footsteps crunched in the snow and gravel and moved to the driver side. As the door opened, and he sat down with a shaky breath.

Logan shifted in the seat, gritting his teeth and writhing as the open wounds on his back rubbed against the fabric. “Hey, hey—stop moving.” He flinched away again as Wade’s hand came into contact with his own. Wade continued, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. Logan squeezed back.

”Can you see anything yet?”

“Sort’ve. S’mostly dark.” Wade sighed, starting the engine.

“You should try to sleep.” Logan didn’t want to, for many reasons.

”Can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Victor knows where ya live, bub. Can’t let ‘em get to ya.” There was a silence as Wade’s hand squeezed his again.

”We’re not staying at the cabin tonight. I’ll get Mary Puppins and then…then we’ll go somewhere else. Don’t worry Logie-bear. I may be an idiot but I’m not that stupid.” Logan grunted. Maybe he wanted to chuckle, tell Wade that he was that stupid. But he was tired, and he needed the energy to heal.

“Whatever you say, bub.”

He woke up intermittently during the drive to wherever Wade was taking them. Each time, his vision was progressively clearer. The first time, large portions were still blotted out, and there were rips in his vision, probably from the claws. The second time, the vision was unobstructed, but incredibly blurry.

Logan didn’t know how long they had been driving—it could have been an hour, or maybe just 30 minutes. Each time he awoke, he could hear the radio playing quietly. The hum of the engine lulled him back to sleep.

When he woke up again, the engine was off, and the car was silently clicking as it rested. His eyes blinked open, vision finally clear of any signs of damage. When he looked to the driver seat, Wade wasn’t there. A bolt of alertness coursed through his body in that second, and he quickly looked to the back seat. No Wade, and no Mary Puppins.

Now his heart had jumped into overdrive as he forced the passenger door open, stepping out into the snowy night. His feet were still bare from the cage fight, and he was shirtless. The snow burned his feet, but he was too busy gathering his surroundings. Sniffing the air, he definitely smelled Wade.

It seemed like they were parked at an old Motel, the light-up sign having seen better days. It was sprinkling down white snowflakes in the dark. The parking lot only had a few other cars besides Wade’s. Logan was about to storm inside and cause a scene when the lobby door pushed open.

Wade was exiting, holding Mary Puppins bundled in a blanket in his arms. Logan practically jumped on the pair when he got close enough, Wade yelping with surprise. Logan grabbed his arms, inspecting them and sniffing him.

Where the fuck were you, did somethin’ happen? Are you injured?” Logan circled around Wade.

“I’m fine! I’m honestly fine! Nothing happened, princess. I was just checking us in to this lovely little Motel. Pretty sure I saw a guy smoking meth around the back. More power to him, honestly.” Logan paused, his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. “It’s sexy when you get all protective and worried about my safety.”

Logan scoffed and stepped away. Though he couldn’t deny, he felt embarrassed at his overreaction. With his heart rate slowing, he could think more clearly now. The longer he was awake, the more his stomach started to bug him about eating. With the amount of healing he had done, that wasn’t a surprise.

“Do they have a vendin’ machine in there?”

“Yep. But we don’t need it.” Wade walked past Logan, back to the car. When he opened the driver door he carefully set down Mary Puppins, opening the center console and pulling out a bag. “I thought ahead. It isn’t much, but I figure it’ll hold you off until we get our heads straight.”

Wade handed him the bag, and he looked inside. It was filled with a wide array of beef jerky and snacks along that same vein. Looking more, Logan could see a box of cigars and a bottle of whiskey. It wasn’t anything fancy, just gas station stuff. But Logan wasn’t complaining.

“This is…”

“I didn’t think you had any preference of cigars or whiskey—so I just grabbed whatever I could.”

”Thanks, bub.” Logan’s voice came out softer than he had wanted. Wade paused from gathering his own things he wanted to bring to the room, looking at Logan through the windshield.

”I have to find some way to pay you back for preemptively saving my life. I know Wolvie needs his medicine, so it’s a good start.” Wade grinned as he gathered up his things in his duffel bag, standing up and slinging it over his shoulder.

Logan wanted to say something else—he wasn’t sure what, but he just ended up staying silent instead. Wade picked up Mary Puppins, pushing the car door closed with his hip.

“One small thing I forgot to mention,” Wade began walking toward the motel, heading to a specific room. Logan merely followed after. “They only had rooms with one bed.”

Logan stiffened as Wade approached the room, holding up the key to get the door to unlock. It was just one thing after a-fucking-nother. “What?”

“I know you have your whole thing of not wanting to sleep in the same vicinity as me, but it’s just a night!” They entered the dingy room, Logan switching on the light and closing the door after them. It already smelled like shit, so he would have no reservations about smoking in there.

Logan quickly sat on the edge of the bed, dumping the contents of the bag before beginning to eat some of the jerky. He didn’t think it was enough to satiate him, but it would prevent his own stomach from beginning to eat itself.

“Well, seein’ as I don’t got a choice anymore, I’ll just mention it now. I have nightmares. Bad ones.” Logan looked down at the bag of jerky as he fished for another piece.

“Is that why you mumble in your sleep so much?” Logan hadn’t even had a nightmare when he slept on Wade’s couch, so he couldn’t imagine the noise he made while actually having one. “I’m not worried about it, kitten-whiskers.” Wade didn’t understand what Logan meant.

He didn’t want to say it out loud—as if saying it would make the past more real. But Wade had to be aware. “It’s worse than that.” Logan started, biting into more jerky. “When I’m havin’ ‘em—I’m not always…aware of what’s goin’ on. I can’t control certain things. Like my claws. I just go into a defensive mode. Like I’m bein’ attacked.”

Wade sat down on the bed, letting Mary Puppins free from the blanket wrap.

“I wasn’t always as alone as I am. Figure you can piece that one together.” Logan stood from the bed, grabbing the bottle of whiskey while keeping his other hand with the bag of jerky. Wade was quiet for too many seconds after that.

Maybe he had said too much. Maybe he should have just said nothing and slept on the floor. But judging by the condition of it, sleeping on the bed was preferable.

“I’m okay taking that risk if it means I get to sleep next to the world’s sexiest man.” Logan grunted, unscrewing the cap of the whiskey. “Who knows, maybe I’ll discover that I’m really into being impaled by big hairy men.”

Logan took a drink, savoring finally having a real whiskey. Not beer or rubbing alcohol. “Maybe I’ll finally get more than a minute of peace.” Logan found his way back to sitting on the bed.

“Let’s face it, princess. You’d be absolutely lost without my angelic voice to guide you.”

“More like an annoyin’ fly in my ear.” Wade snickered, and Logan let a subtle smile on his face. At the thought of never hearing Wade speak again, he couldn’t shake the empty pit that started to form in his stomach. Sure, he was annoying. But the silence without it was just filled with…self-loathing.

“Well, I don’t know about you but after today, I’m ready to sleep and forget about all that horrible shit. Like when you licked my hand, that was horrific.”

Logan growled, “Stop fuckin’ bringin’ that up. There’s more important shit to focus on. Like you singin’ in the car.”

Wade gawked and clutched imaginary pearls. “I’m hurt. Honestly and truly. The fact that you would ever say such a thing—,”

”Wish I was fuckin’ deaf sometimes.” Logan took a drink of the whiskey, smiling around the bottle.

While Wade headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth, Logan kept chewing through the jerky snacks, tossing one to Mary Puppins every now and then. By the time Wade was done getting ready for bed, Logan had finished every last morsel of food.

Wade laid down in the bed, practically already beginning to hog the covers, but Logan didn’t mind that much. He just sat on the edge of the bed, smoking one of the cigars and finishing his whiskey. The room was oddly quiet as Wade settled down.

”Goodnight, kitten-whiskers.” Logan glanced over his shoulder, reaching to turn off the lamp on his side.

”Goodnight, bub.” Then, Wade fell silent. Logan was exhausted, but he wasn’t ready to sleep. If he could, he would have stayed up all night. Too many things were swirling around his mind. A storm. His eyes adjusted to the dark after some time, his gaze glancing toward the lock on the door of the room.

At some point he even checked the windows, shutting the curtains tight and making sure they were closed. When he finished off the bottle of whiskey, he finally laid down. There was a pillow laid between him and Wade, though if he moved even just an inch, they’d be practically lying side-by-side.

His ears tuned in to the quiet chatter on the other side of the walls. The clock ticking quietly on the wall. And finally, Wade’s steady heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Logan closed his eyes.

You awake?” Listening to the unchanging heartbeat, Logan continued. “Thank you—for givin’ me somethin’ worthwhile to do. I think I was gonna go crazy if somethin’ didn’t change.”

With some hesitance still, Logan tried to get some sleep.

Notes:

Out of all the slow burn fics I’ve written I think this one is the actual best slow burn yet, I’m finding the balance a bit more

Chapter 9: Fine Lines

Summary:

Wade and Logan begin making a plan, with some minor road stops along the way.

Notes:

Building this brick by brick!!!

Chapter Text

Wade woke up to the feeling of something wrapped firmly around him. The gentle fall and rise of his pillow. Pillows didn’t normally do that. His eyes pried themselves open, first being met with the white light from the snow outside peeking in through any gap in the curtains. The blanket and sheets were intertwined with his legs. And his legs were intertwined with other legs. Wade glanced toward his pillow, which wasn’t actually a pillow but instead the hairy pecs of his best pal, Logan.

Oh my god.” Wade uttered as quietly as possible with the mounting flurry of emotions rising in his chest. He tried to carefully untangle himself from the situation, but then it became more apparent what the thing wrapped around him was. Logan was hugging him tight—very tight. Maybe the best course of action was to pretend to be asleep and wait for Logan to wake up and remove himself from the equation.

Wade’s mind was running on a track now. The rough murmurs as Logan turned his head, breathing in deep and huffing hot air against Wade’s head. Being close enough now to almost feel as his chest vibrated with a deep hum. Wade absolutely had to get out of here.

He carefully started to wriggle out of Logan’s grasp, pausing whenever it sounded like he was close to waking up. Luckily, it seemed like the events of yesterday had thoroughly tuckered him out, because he was not waking up.

Logan’s arm falls across Wade’s side of the bed as he pulls himself free. Wade only realizes how cold the room is now that he’s away from Logan’s body heat. He’s suddenly very thankful that the blanket is wrapped uncomfortably around his legs. Running a hand through his hair, he glanced back at the other.

It felt very much like the shameful morning after a one night stand, where it became a race to see who would get the fuck out of there first and avoid any further interaction. Except this time, Wade wasn’t going anywhere. He looked toward Logan’s hand, it laid palm up. Slowly, he reached forward, placing their hands together to compare.

His palm and overall structure seemed wider—probably to accommodate those gnarly claws. Hair from his forearm reached toward his knuckles. Wade cautiously held his wrist, turning his hand over. It seemed sort of unsettling to imagine the blades going through the skin and muscle in his hand. Looking down at Logan’s hand felt very much like looking down the barrel of a gun.

Leaving his hand be, Wade stood from the bed, finally unraveling the covers from himself. Mary Puppins quickly took his spot on the bed, curling up in the warmth of the covers.

Wade shuffled his way through the cold room to the bathroom. Even though he had slept, the exhaustion lingered. Wade splashed some water on his face, and wondered if it really worked like how it did in the movies. It never did much for him.

Was it bad that his body wanted nothing more than to go back out there and curl under the covers next to that space heater turned man? He was beginning to wonder just how much of his comments and jokes were just comments and jokes. At which point did it just become a lighthearted way to get his thoughts out of his head?

There was no commitment in jokes, no putting yourself out there. Wade had relationships before, if you can even call them that. But mostly with women. His few flings with men were short lived, not that his ‘relationships’ lived much longer. Why were relationships and Logan even in the same thought right now?

Logan was attractive—and that wasn’t all. He had put himself on the line to keep Wade safe, and for what? Just to complete this stupid job? Something about Logan drew Wade in. They were complete opposites, and it was magnetic. Maybe Logan had some secret pheromones that he didn’t know about.

He never really reciprocated Wade’s jokes—flirts—and just by looking at the man, most would assume he was a stone cold heterosexual.

“Fuck.” Wade avoided looking at himself in the mirror. The more time he spent with Logan, the more he felt like he was just a side character who had stumbled upon the main character’s story. He hated him for it, but felt even more like he wanted to be in his presence. Logan was, well, Logan. And Wade was just Wade Wilson. He wasn’t special, he didn’t have some exciting backstory. He was just a guy trying to do his job. He wanted to be more.

Spending any more time alone with his thoughts was a no-go, so he quickly combed his hair with his fingers and brushed his teeth.

When he walked back out, he saw that Logan had woken up, already hunched over the side of the bed and smoking a cigar. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Logan grumbled. He didn’t seem like a morning person. “You know, for how big of a deal you made it seem, that was one of the most peaceful night’s rest I had in a while.”

“Yeah, well.” Logan paused, “I didn’t have a nightmare.” He sounded almost surprised. Wade watched for a moment as Logan rubbed his hand over his eyes. Somehow, even when he had slept, his hair stayed relatively in the same style as always. Wade wondered if it would be soft or incredibly crunchy.

“What do you think the game plan is for today? Personally I was thinking we get you fed first, you aren’t you when you’re hangry.”

”First thing is gettin’ the fuck outta here and back on the road. Victor’ll be just about healed again if he isn’t already, and that bastard will not be happy he didn’t win. Even more unhappy that you helped me.” Logan puffed on his cigar. Wade didn’t consider what he did ‘helping’, but he wasn’t about to argue. “Next, is findin’ somewhere he can’t get the jump on us.”

“And where would that be?” Logan stood from the bed, gathering up the cigar box and beginning to look through Wade’s own clothes for a shirt.

“I’m still mullin’ over that one.” Wade wanted to make a comment about Logan just ‘helping himself’ to his clothes, but considering his morning, Wade wanted to prove something to himself. Maybe prove that he could go 5 seconds without poking at the other man and hoping for a reaction.

Logan found a shirt, pulling it on. Much like the sweater, it seemed a little tight. Wade had to bite his tongue once again. Instead, he busied himself with gathering up his own things. Mary Puppins was happily napping on the bed, so Wade would save that for last.

Before Wade could protest, Logan stalked over to his nightstand and snatched up the car keys, “I’m drivin’ now.” Wade raised his hands defensively.

”Of course, your majesty. You know, I’ve always fancied myself more of a passenger prince.”

“What the hell is a passenger prince.” Wade opened his mouth before, “Nevermind, I don’t wanna fuckin’ know.” He couldn’t help but smile as Logan opened the motel door, pulling the latch for the inside lock to prop it open. Logan had found a shirt, but his feet were still utterly bare.

“What’s wrong?”

The car engine hummed quietly as they drove down the road. The sun was out today, leaving the pavement covered in puddles where the rays of light could reach it. After all the snow, it seemed they were finally getting a small break. Trees lined both sides, the pines and branches heavy with piled on snow.

Wade could see Logan glance toward him as he asked. Wade feigned ignorance.

”What? Me? Nothing’s wrong. I’m just peachy, princess.” Logan furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn’t buying it.

“You haven’t been sayin’ a fuckin’ thing since we got on the road. You’re always goddamn yappin’, so what’s wrong?” Wade was, momentarily, at a loss for words. Logan had him there. He wasn’t usually quiet, unless something was terribly wrong.

”So now you’re begging me to talk your ear off? I thought you absolutely despised me never shutting up.” Logan shot a look in his direction at that. Wade noticed the way his hands tensed on the wheel.

”I never said that.”

No, but I was paraphrasing.” Wade shrugged, reaching forward to turn on the car radio. There was a pressure mounting in his chest. Before he could reach the dial, the car slightly swerved as Logan grabbed his wrist, his eyes darting back and forth from the road to Wade.

“That isn’t fuckin’ paraphrasin’, you dumb fuck.” Wade was feeling catty.

”Oh really? Define it, then.” Logan let go of his wrist, returning to holding the wheel.

Motherfucker.” Logan muttered under his breath. Oddly enough, Wade felt a rush of excitement through him. “Look, bub.” Logan glanced at him again, the frown lines between his eyebrows in full force. “I don’t—actually fuckin’ hate you talkin’. You get on my nerves but…” But?

Wade was on the edge of his seat. Metaphorically. He wasn’t sure why he was so eager to hear what he said next. “But it’s worse when ya don’t fuckin’ say anythin’. So knock off whatever the hell game you’re playin’, otherwise I will crash this fuckin’ car.”

Wade leaned back in the seat, looking ahead at the rode. “That was a lot of words for ‘I love you Wade Wilson’.”

“Fuckin’ asshole.” Wade tried not to dwell on the fact that Logan hadn’t refuted his comment.

Wade stood with his hands in his pockets, glancing around the small aisle as Logan pulled on a pair of boots. He couldn’t have him running around barefoot after all, even if it seemed like it had little effect on the man. They were in a discount store, since Logan had the habit of going through clothes rather quickly, and he just needed something to wear. “How’s that fit?”

“It’s fine.”

“Is it actually fine or are you just saying that so we get out of here faster?” Logan glared up at him while tying the laces. “Okay, okay.”

”We already wasted time stoppin’ for food. We need to keep goin’. The shoes are good enough.” Logan stood, the black boots perfectly accenting the slightly bloodied jeans—holy fuck he was totally covered in dry blood. That explained why the clerk was looking at them weird. That and the bare feet too, probably.

”I don’t think the food was time wasted—you’re in a way better mood once you eat.” Logan only grunted, walking up to the counter with the clerk still shooting looks in his direction. Wade followed after behind with a bright smile on his face.

”Here’s the tag. I’m wearin’ ‘em out.” Logan set the tag on the counter, but the clerk only looked at him a moment before pulling some look in between disgust and fear.

“Not for you.” Logan tensed up in a second. Wade kept his hands in his pockets, stepping a bit closer to the counter.

”The fuck do you mean, not for me? I have money, don’t I?”

“You tell me, freak.” Logan’s jaw tensed and Wade could see that delicious anger boiling up under the surface. His hands were clenched at his sides. Before Logan could say anything else, Wade stepped forward, pulling his pistol from his super secret hiding holster.

SMILE—wait for the flash’ was engraved on the end.

”Hey friend-o. We’re gonna be taking those boots, ‘kay? My friend Wolvie here has the patience of a SAINT but you wouldn’t know that by looking at him.” Logan had uttered a swear as Wade pulled his pistol.

Goddammit, don’t fuckin’ rob him, bub.”

“Who said anything about robbing?” Wade fished into his pocket, still wearing a wide grin as he handed his wallet to Logan. “Get me a 20 out of there, princess.” Logan was rigid for a moment before hesitantly pulling the 20 out and setting it on the counter. By his reaction, you’d have thought that Wade had him at gunpoint.

Wade slightly leaned over the counter, glancing down at the clerk’s pants. He made a mocking sad noise, “Too bad you didn’t wear your yellow pants, huh? I like to keep a pair for every situation, y’know?” The clerk only raised his hands, trembling while still attempting to hold a pissed off expression. Cute.

“Keep the change, it’s on us.” Wade slightly nudged Logan with his elbow, signaling him to begin leaving. Which he promptly did. Wade held his gun on the clerk for a little while longer before turning and running to the car.

What the fuck is wrong with you?” Logan seemed exasperated, but promptly started the car so they could get the fuck out of there.

What?! We still paid for it. Live a little, kitten-whiskers.”

”Too much goddamn livin’ recently, if you ask me.” Wade holstered his pistol again, eagerly turning on the radio as Logan peeled out of the parking lot.

“Is that a smirk I see?”

”No. You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

“C’monnnn, almost there—!”

”Shut up.” Logan looked away, but Wade could see the curl of his lips in the side mirror.

Chapter 10: Time Wasted, Time Spent

Summary:

Something unforeseen happens. Logan reaches a limit.

Notes:

I have plans that I cannot share with you right now because the haters will sabotage me…

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

Chapter Text


It was dark out when they reached the next motel. Wade had fallen asleep somewhere along the way, but not after filling every minute and hour with nothing but chatter. Logan didn’t complain—it at least made the hours pass by fast enough, and Wade never really expected him to respond back all that much.

Logan parked the car, cutting off the engine. For a moment, he just sat there. That encroaching feeling whenever they stopped for too long, that any minute, Victor would catch up to them. That feeling prevented him from taking a moment to breathe, and he looked to Wade in the passenger seat.

”We’re here, bub.” Wade had his head hanging back against the seat, mouth open. And he was drooling. Logan reached over to nudge him, but still nothing. He still had to rent the room, but apparently his status as a mutant had started to spread since the cage fight.

Though, he did have an idea. His look was recognizable, he knew that. So if he just changed it up a little bit…

He tilted the rear view mirror to face himself. His jaw tightened as, slowly, a single claw slid out. Logan had attempted to shave before, even cut his hair. It always grew back at an aggressive rate. He tilted his head, using his claw to shave off his facial hair as much as possible. Logan didn’t care if he got a few cuts or nicks—for obvious reasons.

After a minute or so, he was nearly clean shaven. Only nearly. Reaching up to his hair, he just tried to ruffle it out of place as much as possible. He hoped it was enough.

Stepping out of the car, he headed to the lobby. Luckily, his look change seemed to do the trick, and the person at the desk just seemed utterly bored and uninterested as he checked in to a room. Back outside, he quickly brushed his hair back into its usual place. If he could look at himself, he could see the stubble already begin darkening and growing out.

His hair had always been something he just had to live with. Shaving his body was even more impossible than this face.

Logan opened the passenger door, met with the fact that Wade was still completely out cold. Carrying him wouldn’t be trouble at all, so Logan reached into the door, lifting the other man into his arms. Even though Wade wasn’t scrawny by any means, he didn’t weigh all that much to Logan.

Being so close to Wade always seemed to start something within him. Even just being close to his scent. Logan sniffed as he approached the motel door, holding the keycard in his hand. A subtle itch that slowly turned into a gnawing feeling. Logan sniffed again, pushing the door open and carefully stepping into the dark room.


Logan’s eyes adjusted quickly enough and he moved over to the bed. Before he put Wade down, he couldn’t help himself from lowering his head to sniff the other. It wasn’t until his mouth started to water that he quickly dropped Wade on the bed, grimacing at his own actions. Logan swallowed a few times. It felt like he could almost taste the smell.

It wasn’t even bad—it was actually fairly enticing, which was why Logan was extremely eager to move away from the other and go get Mary Puppins instead.

It had been too long for him to recognize his own signs of attraction. He could probably pick out Wade’s scent in a room full of harsh and abrasive smells, but it was likely just because he was around him often now. And even as he sat on the edge of the bed smoking a cigar, the other man’s scent found a way to get into his head.

Logan lowered his head, looking at the dirty carpet under his boots, watching the snow melting off and dampening it. What was so fucking interesting about him? He smiled to himself, biting down a bit on the cigar as he remembered Wade holding the clerk at gunpoint just because he wouldn’t sell Logan boots. Or how Wade had bought him an entire goodie bag after the fight with Victor. Or how Wade had sang absolutely fucking awfully in the shower and in the car any time a song he really loved was on.

Wade, Wade, fucking Wade.

He kicks off his boots, glancing toward the door and the windows again before he lays down to sleep. With the cigar still burning, he pauses before putting it out on his palm. It is a momentary distraction from his consistent thoughts about Wade.

Getting to sleep isn’t always easy—but after a bit of lying in the bed, he finally feels himself start to drift.

You can see it.

The gnashing of teeth, ripping and pulling and tearing. The poking and the prodding. A dozen hands, a dozen pins. Barking dogs—no, howling wolves.

In his eyes.

It’s torture, it’s hell and pain. Inhumane. Not human. Animal—monster—beast. Dying, and dead. Dead and walking, it never ends, always walking forward. Boiling on skin, singeing the hair from his body.

Doesn’t have much of a life anyway.

Still human. In some way.

They are always talking. A million little voices in the mind. Rage and fury. Bloodshed. Horror. Dreams of—death. Corpses piled high, fresh fur and bone. Gnashing teeth.

Animal.

It’s all real. We’ll be square. We will.

Logan sat up in the bed, feeling all the air leave his lungs as he screamed. He could only scream. His claws shredded the bed, knuckles bleeding. There were words in his pained howls, mostly lost in the noise. Hands grabbed his face.

Logan. Logan!

His claws pressed against Wade’s chin. A single slip away from slicing his neck or turning his head into a kebab. His teeth gritted, bared—and eyes wide with anger and fear and—.

Logan.”

He swallowed, the sweet scent of sweat and gun powder. Logan’s arm fell, the claws retracting in an instant. Wade’s hands lingered on his face, holding him. The pounding of his heart dropped, the adrenaline crashing with reality. Wade looked back at him silently.

He was a monster. Wade must have been looking at him with repulsion. He must have. Logan ripped himself away, rolling out of the bed. He fucking told him. He told him this would happen—almost happen. Ripping open the door, he ran out into the cold air. Streaks of wet water on his cheeks began to cool and freeze—streaks of tears. He was crying, when did he begin to cry?

Logan’s mind was scattered. The remnants of dreams of torture and pain intertwining themselves with current reality. The claws forcibly extended. Blood trickled from his fists into the snow.

He walked toward the trees, trying to regain his sense of control. There was a ringing in his ears, listening to the thumping of his own heart. He collapsed in the snow. Where was he? Who was he? Logan’s eyelids began closing. The snow against his face and body—sinking into the fabric of his clothes.

An alarm—a siren. It was getting closer. When Logan opened his eyes again, light was beginning to brighten the dim sky. Likely early morning. His face dripped with water, feeling numb when he stood from the ground. Looking around blearily, the siren grew closer. He sniffed the air.


The distinct smell of smoke. When he turned to look at the hotel, he began running toward the door to their room.

The building was engulfed in flames, eating its way through. Logan’s mind was still reeling from last night’s events—the dream, and collapsing out in the snow. Was this even real, now? Was it another cruel nightmare? When he arrived at the door to the room, it wouldn’t open. Smoke slipped under the door, and heat was radiating from the glass of the window and the handle on the door.

Logan threw this body weight against the door. It wasn’t enough. He moved to the glass, beginning to bash his fists against it. It was bulletproof, but splintered on impact, expelling glass dust with each violent hit. He smashed his hands against the surface again. On the third impact, it shattered and broke.

He leaped through the window. The glass slicing his skin was not present in his mind. Mary Puppins was huddled near the door, yowling as the flames licked closer across the carpet. Logan scooped her up, tossing her through the window into the snow. The rest of the room was burning wildly. Logan charged through the flames to the bed.

His hair caught on fire, quickly burning to his scalp. Pained howls crawled up his throat but didn’t quite make it out. Logan’s mind was focused on one thing—Wade. Scooping up his body and jumping back through the window. Landing in the snow, his hands patted down the flames, piling snow to help put it out.

Wade was undoubtedly burned across his entire body—and he was unconscious. The siren was blaring, and Logan looked around wildly. He had to get out of there, he had to get Wade out. He had to save him. Logan picked up his body again, running to the car. Setting him down in the passenger side, Logan nearly jumped in the driver seat and sped off before he remembered to grab Mary Puppins.

Wade would never forgive him if Logan left her.

The keys were still in his pocket, and the tires dug into the snow before he finally backed out, speeding past the fire truck on the way to put out the rest of the flames.

Logan glanced toward Wade.

”Wade? Bub? Fuckin’ wake up. Wake up, you fuckin’ bastard!” The nearest pharmacy was a few miles down. The hospital couldn’t save Wade. Nothing human could save Wade. There was only one option clear in Logan’s mind, even more clear as his third degree burns across his own body began to close up, fresh skin stretching over his muscle.

The entire drive was a numbing blur. Logan didn’t come back to clear consciousness until he was breaking open the pharmacy door. They were closed—but he didn’t have time. He didn’t have enough time.

He bumped into shelves and knocked over products carelessly until he found what he was looking for—syringes.


Back at the car, Logan ripped open the packaging with his teeth, pulling out a syringe and jamming it into his arm. He was relieved when it easily sucked up blood—a deep red color. He pulled the syringe from his arm, leaning over the center console and sticking the needle into Wade’s own burned arm. He pressed the plunger down, injecting it into him.

Logan repeated the process, over and over. Another stab into his skin. Another stab into Wade’s skin. After a handful of minutes, he finally stopped. The broken off piece from one of the needles he had been too harsh with fell from his arm. Logan felt sick as he looked at Wade’s skin—his clothes nearly melted to his body in some places. His hair only remaining in a few charred tufts.

The sweet smell was desecrated by the vile stench of burned flesh and smoking hair.

The only sound in the car was his own heavy breaths. They caught in his throat—inhaling, then exhaling.

Wake the fuck up—you stupid piece’a shit.” His voice cracked. “WAKE UP!” In a fit of rage, Logan smashed his elbow against the driver window, shattering it. The rage only continued to boil over and he punched the radio. It blared to life,

So strong, that I can’t get through,

Is there really no chance—,

Logan smashed his fist into it, over and over again, until the noise died. He slowly pulled his hand away, gripping the wheel. Lowering his head against it. More breaths caught in his throat.

He whimpered, furrowing his eyes as tears blurred his vision and brimmed at the edges. Everyone he ever cared about—Logan found that another scent lingered in the air. Mingling with the burning and the blood. His hands tightened on the wheel until his knuckles briefly turned white.

Victor had caught up to them.

He wanted to destroy everything Logan loved. The only thing he couldn’t destroy being Logan himself. Maybe that was why he had made it his life’s mission to torment Logan. Always one step ahead, just around the corner. He couldn’t be bested, oh no. So he had to destroy this, too.

Logan cried, unable to hold the tears anymore. Imagining that if Victor could see him now, he’d be smiling upon him. Saying how he isn’t better than him now, he’s nothing. Fuckin’ nothing. Not even a goddamn thought in anyone’s head. He was destined for torture, always hurting and straining.

There was a cough beside him. “Hey—you smashed up my ride—urgh—kitten-whiskers.” Logan lifted his head, quickly looking to Wade. “What happened’t’me?” He shifted, looking over his body. The burns had become deep scars. Logan felt he was probably dreaming. The first good dream.

“Wade?”

I like how m’name sounds in your mouth. Say it again?”

You fuckin’ prick.” Logan growled through his gritted teeth. Wade exhaled sharply.

Close enough.”

Logan suddenly leaned over the center, wrapping his arms around Wade. The other man grunted a bit in surprise. Logan closed his eyes, carefully rubbing and bumping his head against Wade’s. He could feel his own body shake with another round of sobs, just barely holding them in.

“This is new…” Wade’s own arms tiredly wrapped around Logan. Logan pressed his nose against Wade’s jaw, the scent clearer now than it had been. His blood was working. It was fucking working. “Hey, princess, let me get my bearings before we do anything freaky, ‘kay?” Logan laughed breathlessly. He felt like maybe he had gone insane—but he was elated. Logan kept his face nuzzled against Wade’s neck.

I shouldn’t’ve left ya there.” He mumbled against the other. “I thought—I was gonna be alone again. That I lost ya, for good.” Wade was silent before speaking. Logan could feel his hand beginning to lightly rub his back.

”I thought you would’ve learned by now…that you can’t get rid of me, Logie-bear. You’re absolutely stuck with me and my mouth.” Logan sniffled, turning his face more into Wade’s neck. Then, carefully, he placed a kiss there. Wade’s hands gripped the remnants of Logan’s shirt. Logan chuckled, hearing his heart’s pace quicken.

Fresh scents filled his nose. It was mid-day, the sun was in the sky, reflecting off the snow and making it nearly blinding. Logan stood amongst trees, breathing in deep. The heavy smell of copper and prey. His claws were out, dripping with red. It splattered in the snow.

Standing over the corpse of a mountain lion, the claw marks across his back already nearly closed up entirely. Logan did have a plan. In his clarity after Wade had regenerated, he had one single thought.

He needed to decapitate Victor. It was how he would kill him. Cutting his fucking head off like a chicken. And then this long lasting rivalry would be over. But just as Logan could smell Victor, he knew the other could likely smell him as well.

There was one way he knew of masking one’s scent. And it wasn’t pretty, but it would need to be done. Logan had wanted to strive above his animalistic attributes, that maybe they were some disease that he could cut out of his life by pretending to be a normal man.

It was apart of him. It was what made him Logan Howlett. Without them, he would not be the same. It was about time he stopped letting people be the judge of what he was. If Victor wanted him to play feral, he would. On his terms. Logan carefully dragged his claws across the mountain lion’s stomach, slicing it open.

The smell was strong—it was just what he needed. Before he could begin, there was a small noise. He paused, looking near the trees. Two beady eyes looked back at him. The black, weasel-like animal bared its teeth when they made eye contact. Logan held its gaze until the little asshole calmed down.

It was a wolverine. It stepped forward in the snow, sniffing the ground as it approached. Logan had no real use for this carcass, aside from its smell. He crouched over the mountain lion, making several more cuts into it. He didn’t have to say anything or do anything else before the wolverine was running up to get its piece.

It was kind of funny. Logan felt more kinship with this animal than he ever had in the hundreds of years that he had known Victor Creed.

Notes:

You guys can probably tell I am HEAVILY referencing the Weapon X comic, because i absolutely adore it.

Anyways, I SWEAR Logan will get to be happy fully. I went into this knowing that eventually Wade would reach Deadpool status, and I had to take some creative liberties to get there. I hope this story has been enjoyable so far! I always get nervous that people might not be satisfied with the events or turns.

Chapter 11: Splitting Hairs

Summary:

Wade finally gets to meet Victor face to face.

Chapter Text

Wade looked at himself closely in the mirror of the sun visor. Logan had already given him the play-by-play of what exactly happened. Wade didn’t remember much himself, and maybe he was lucky. Who wants to remember being burned to a crisp while trying to catch up on Z’s?

He had remembered waking up to Logan tossing and turning in bed, grumbling and growling. Until he woke up, nearly slicing Wade in the process, and utterly wrecking the bed. The way Logan looked at him. Wade couldn’t help but wonder what type of horrible dream could make a man like Logan unravel at the seams so thoroughly.

It had been almost a completely different side of Logan. The only way to describe it would maybe be with one word. Primal.

It hadn’t changed Wade’s view of Logan—he had already seen him practically eviscerate Creed. But he would be lying through his teeth if he said he hadn’t been at least a little afraid.

Wade ran his fingers over the scars across his face. He looked like fucking Freddy Krueger. Except maybe a little more good looking. It was all about face shape. That’s what Wade had to tell himself to keep from spiraling at his new look.

“Well, I wish you would have taken me out on a date first before putting yourself inside me.” Logan shot him a mildly disturbed look.

”Do not fuckin’ say it like that.” He paused before giving a more sympathetic glance. It was unnatural for Wade to see more than annoyance and mild amusement from the other man. “I had to—hospital would’a taken too long, and who knows if you’d even survive.”

“How come you look sexy as fuck and I look like I was blended up and then sculpted into some kind of grotesque meat figure.” Logan grunted, looking at the road.

You don’t look like that.” Logan seemed tense before relaxing again. “But…I’m not sure. Never gave blood before. Figure it’s probably just workin’ with what it had, since it ain’t natural.” Basically, Logan had taken a huge risk. Who’s to say the man’s blood wasn’t just as defensive as him. But Wade…felt fine—perfectly fine. Good as new, aside from when he looked at himself.

“Guess I owe you more than some cigars and whiskey now.” Wade sighed, closing the sun visor. “You’re officially a hero.”

“You can just pay me back by stayin’ alive. I’m not a hero. I think this makes me selfish.” Logan kept shooting glances in his direction. Wade wondered if he was still thinking that he might up and die any second now. There was something unspoken between them. The air was just a little bit off, their words just barely coming together. Wade looked out the window. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but Logan did.

It had been a few hours since Logan left the car on the side of the road. Only saying he ‘had a plan’ before stalking off into the woods, sniffing the air as he went. Wade had sat in the car with Mary Puppins for a while before exiting, wanting some fresh air. His hands distracted themselves by playing with his pistol. Of course the safety was on.

As he pulled out the magazine before sliding it back in with a click, there were footsteps in the snow on the other side of the car.

”Glad you finally sniffed your way back, princess, I was getting worried—,” Wade turned to face the other side. It was decidedly not Logan who was looking back at him, but instead Victor Creed. “Oh. Are you here to talk to me about my cars extended warranty?” Victor grinned, his elongated canine’s poking out as he jumped onto the roof of the car, his nails already cutting through the metal. The vehicle creaked under his weight.

Wade’s eyes glanced down to the backseat, spotting Mary Puppins jumping to the floorboard. He looked back up quickly, beginning to raise his hands as he backed away. “Look, I don’t wanna do this whole song and dance with you, okay? I’ve had a really shitty morning and I just want to enjoy the nice mountain landscape.”

”I wonder why ol’Jimmy wants to protect you so badly? What is it about you? I know it ain’t your looks anymore.” Victor chuckled, a low noise that unsettled Wade. Just a bit. “If only your unwittin’ humor could make up for it, but you’re not funny enough for that.”

“Wow, that is really hurtful, have you considered working through these feelings in therapy?” Victor leaped off the car into the snow, sending slush splashing underneath him. Wade backed up further.

”Ya ever had siblings?”

No, I was a perfect angel so my parents stopped at one. Why?”

“Then ya can’t understand. Jimmy was made for killin’. Born for it. When he was 13, he killed our father. He’s killed any woman he ever loved, not includin’ the one I did in myself.” Victor smiled as if he was thinking of a fond memory. Wade’s chest tightened with an unfamiliar feeling. Maybe it was Logan’s own blood in his veins beginning to boil with rage.

”He was once apart of an experiment, Weapon X. They picked Jimmy up, and I let ‘em. Thought maybe if he survived their little experiment, I could too. He was always weaker than me.” Victor stepped closer. Wade could see the sharp finger nails pointing out. “I guess they tortured him good enough. Gave him that fancy metal skeleton. Adamantium, they called it. Then, for their trouble, he killed ‘em all.”

Victor gave an exasperated laugh. “Little fuckin’ bastard doesn’t know how good he could have had it. Just toughen up, stop playin’ pretend and makin’ believe that he can be like people. Humans are weak. You’re weak. And once I kill ya, maybe Jimmy’ll finally see he can do better.”

Wade let out a breath, trying to process everything Victor had just said. The guy yapped even more than him, somehow. Through all of his many questions in his mind, he couldn’t help but focus on what Victor called Logan. “Funny you should say that.” Victor furrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment at Wade’s response. The car creaked lowly behind Victor.

“…He’s standing right behind you, isn’t he?” Victor blinked, and before he could even open his mouth, three metallic claws protruded through his chest. They glinted under the blood, turning a bit in the flesh. Wade raised his finger, poking one of the edges.

“What kind of name is Sabretooth, anyway? I would imagine you’d pick something that would make you look less prehistoric.” Victor’s eyes shot open, coughing up blood. His hands swung for Wade, slicing his arm. Wade flinched and stumbled back, cursing as he held his bleeding arm.

Logan grunted from behind Victor, turning with him on the end of his fist, and Wade could see his muscles tense and bulge under whatever he was covered in. Logan’s eyes were slits of hate and rage as he huffed heavy breaths. Victor tried to reach around and grab at Logan’s arms.

Through coughing and hissing, Victor spoke, “You do this—you’ll prove me right, Jimmy. You’ll be just like me. Killin’ your own blood—.

I’m done splittin’ hairs with you, bub. ” Logan’s gravelly voice rumbled in his chest before he clenched his teeth together, raising his other hand and stabbing through Victor’s neck before pulling upward. Logan strained, likely tearing his own muscles in the process of ripping Victor’s head from his body. Blood gushed and splashed onto his face, covering the already gory skin.

When Victor’s body collapsed, it took Logan with it. The man lowered his head, struggling to pull his claws from Victor’s back. Grimacing and groaning with pain as he finally pulled it free. His arms fell at his sides.


Wade glanced down at his own arm, noticing that it was no longer bleeding—there wasn’t even a wound. Only scars remained. When he approached Logan, he had to slightly shield his nose from the smell. The other man looked to be absolutely covered in blood across his entire body. “This is some fucked up Walking Dead shit right here…”

Logan glanced toward him, voice gruff when he spoke “What?”

“Nothing princess. You smell fantastic. Is that a new perfume you’re trying out?” After a moment, Logan carefully stood. He looked exhausted. Stumbling a bit as the claws retracted up into his arms.

“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you?” Logan looked down at Wade’s arm, grabbing and examining it. Two long scars ran down it, surrounded by the previous burn scars.

“I’m much more than okay, kitten-whiskers. Wait there.” Logan blinked as Wade pulled away, heading to the car. He fished around in the backseat for a moment before pulling out a disposable camera. Passing by Logan, he reach down to grab Victor’s head. Turning the camera on himself, he smiled as he snapped a picture.

“You are so fuckin’ unhinged, you know that?” Logan muttered, having a face of disgust and concern when Wade looked at him.

”I need proof that the job’s completed, sugar tits. I’m ready to be compensated for all this bullshit.” Wade wiped his hand off on his pants, walking back to stand by Logan. “I hope you know I’m making you take a bath after this.” Logan grunted, looking at the body in the snow absently. Wade nudged him with his elbow, and his gaze turned to him. “I want to be serious, now.”

Logan quirked an eyebrow. “You sure you can handle that?”

“I’ve never tried it before but—here goes.” Wade inhaled. “Thank you. For putting up with me—saving my fucking life on multiple occasions even though I probably didn’t deserve it. I’m a bastard, a dumb fuck, an idiot. All those other things you called me—,”

”You’re losin’ it.” Logan remarked playfully, and Wade reeled it in.

“But you still stuck it out. And I really hope that after all this you won’t go sulking off back into the sunset like some noble hero—and you’ll stay. With…me.” Wade’s voice faltered near the end and he looked away. “I want you to stay.” He swallowed. Man, this was rough. Wade hated laying it all out on the table like that, but you missed 100% of the shots you never took.

Logan was quiet before, “Okay.” Wade felt his heavy arm wrap around his shoulder, pulling him close to Logan’s side. “You convinced me, bub. Ain’t got much better to do, anyway.”

Chapter 12: The Last Pieces

Summary:

Logan wrestles with the past a bit more. The pair finally speak the unspoken.

Notes:

this chapter is basically just aftercare from the EVERYTHING ELSE :3

Chapter Text

The water was running, splashing against the floor of the tub in a thunderous noise. Rain pouring down on a windy night. Logan sits on the lid of the toilet. The yellow light of the dim hotel bathroom is driving him crazy. The smell of rotten flesh and old blood sticks to his skin, clotted and uncomfortable.

Logan lowers his head in his hands, fingers brushing through his hair. He’s breathing deeply, but with each breath his chest just gets tighter.

‘Weapon X’ swirls around in his mind. He’s heard it somewhere, many times before. Everything Victor said clings to him, weighing him down. There’s something there, something he can’t reach, buried deep inside. Dreams of blood and needles and wires. Dreams of death. Dreams of torture.

It is a miraculous marvel of science, Cornelius.

Logan stared at the tiled floor, eyes wide.

Yes, but what happens if we can’t control him, Professor?

That will never happen. It is simple to control a mindless animal. Logan has always been—,

”A determinedly violent individual, pummelin’ his way through a purposeless life.” Logan felt gutted as the words which weren’t his own left his mouth. Pupils dilating as his hand rubbed over his face. Logan felt dizzy as voices swirled around his mind, superimposed over his own thoughts. The splashing water became whispering voices.

Victor had let something terrible happen to him. The memories clawed at the edges of his mind, only commanded to obey by his consistent healing. Could his healing factor fix a broken mind? Could it stave off the unraveling of his consciousness? Tortured him good. Killed ‘em all.

Logan raised his fist, punching himself in the head. There was a thump, leaving only an aching pain afterwards. The pain wasn’t enough to stop the wave of shit crashing on him in the moment.

There was a knock on the door. “You almost done in there, princess? I really need to pee!”

Logan gritted his teeth. He hadn’t even gotten in the shower yet. How long had he been sitting here? He didn’t want to open the door or let Wade in. There was a long pause before Wade spoke from the other side again. “You didn’t fall in, did you?” Logan huffed a laugh, but shortly after, tears came pouring down his face. He was laughing—crying. Somewhere in between.

The door slowly creaked open and Wade peaked his head in. Wade was wearing a ridiculous mask over his head that only made Logan’s fit of laugh-crying worse. “What the fuck are you wearing?

“I’ll have you know that it’s the first prototype of my cool new superhero costume. What, you don’t like it?”

”It looks fuckin’ ridiculous.” Logan wiped at his eyes, glancing up at Wade over his hands.

“Not anymore ridiculous than looking like God just had a period all over you.” Logan shook his head. The imagery was grotesque. It almost averted his mind away from focusing too much on everything that was currently going on in his mind. “We both look washed up and exhausted and absolutely disgusting, but I think there’s something poetic in that, right?” The water was still pouring down in the shower, the air getting steamy and warm.

Logan took in a breath, finally regaining control of his fit. Wade stepped closer and sat on the floor, placing his hands a bit behind him as he leaned back. Logan only glanced at him, his eyes feeling puffy.

“Even though he’s dead, all the shit he left behind is still here. The small amount of satisfaction I get from cuttin’ his fuckin’ head off doesn’t add up against all the bullshit I’ve dealt with for years. Years that I can’t even fuckin’ remember or account for.” Wade was quiet as he continued. Logan couldn’t see his expression past his stupid mask. “I can’t even get help from anyone, ‘cause no one fuckin’ understands what it’s like. I can’t even say what the problem is ‘cause I don’t remember shit. I just have nightmares.” Logan looked down.

Wade was quiet for a bit longer before speaking, “I can’t help you—not in a professional or clinical way. I’m just a guy.” Wade shrugged, and Logan could hear the slight smile in his voice. “But I can listen. I can be here through all the bullshit. And, I think there is someone out there who can help you—really help you. Mutants are all over the news. There’s bound to be one out there who can understand what you’re going through.”

Logan lifted his head a bit, looking down at Wade. That had been the longest Logan had ever seen Wade be serious. No jokes, no comments.

“But before we can find that person—you desperately need a shower, princess.” There it was. “All this steam is starting to make it really rancid, I was trying to avoid saying anything.”

“Don’t you need to use the bathroom?” Wade tilted his head.

”Oh, I just made that up to get you to come out faster.” Logan blinked as Wade stood from the ground, heading to the shower and testing if it was still warm. “You need help getting in or anything kitten-whiskers?”

Logan narrowed his eyes a bit as he stood from the toilet. “No, I don’t need help. I’m a grown man.”

Yes you are.” Logan wished he could see where Wade’s eyes were looking at this moment. “Alrighty. Yell if you need anything, sugar tits.” With that, Wade left the bathroom, not even closing the door behind him. Logan grumbled as he shut it, turning back to the shower. Well, it was better late than never. He stripped off the remaining clothes on his body, which would probably end up being thrown away.

Stepping into the shower, it was nice and warm. Comforting. It was just the sound of the water until Logan could hear the radio playing in the other room. Wade’s hideous singing started up, and instead of tuning out, Logan listened. It was a nice distraction from being alone with his thoughts.

When he left the bathroom and entered the bedroom, clothes and scraps were scattered all over the place. Logan grunted as he stepped around the duffel bag on the floor, heading to his side of the bed.

Wade was sitting in the bed, the pillows piled high behind his back as Mary Puppins curled up in his lap. Logan sat down, grabbing up the cigar box. To his dismay, there was only one left. He grumbled taking the single cigar out and tossing the cigar box. As he lit it, Wade spoke up.

”Do you even like those things? I mean they look cool and they really give off that tough guy persona, but don’t they smell terrible? I’m wondering if it’s sort of just force of habit.” Logan puffed on the cigar, the smoke filling the air around him as he looked at it.

”They don’t smell bad to me. They help block out all the other worse smells. Guess for others it offers some benefit, but they don’t do much for me besides the smell. Mostly habit.” Logan shrugged before holding the cigar toward Wade. “Wanna try?”

Wade took it with hesitation, pulling the mask up over his nose only. Logan couldn’t help but think of how Wade talked about himself—he was probably not dealing with the change in his appearance well. Logan didn’t think it was that bad. Wade’s body was nice—fit. His face had been an afterthought to his overall personality.

Carefully, Wade placed the cigar to his lips, slowly puffing a bit of smoke. Logan couldn’t help but feel his eyes drawn there. “Don’t inhale it, bub. Just keep it in your mouth.” Wade, apparently, didn’t heed his warning, because he started wheezing and coughing after a second.

Oh fuckthat’s what he said—,” Logan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and amusement as Wade handed the cigar back to him, still having a fit over inhaling it. “Yeah I–definitely don’t get the appeal.”


“It ain’t for everyone.” Logan held the cigar between his lips again, still watching as Wade cleared his lungs. “Here bub, watch this.” That little spark returned to his attitude as he puffed on the cigar again. It had been a while since he did anything like this, so he wasn’t sure if it would work.

Carefully, he blew a smoke ring in Wade’s direction. As it was in the air, he raised his finger to lightly wave through the top of the ring. For a brief moment, it turned into a smokey heart. Quickly after, it dissipated.

”That was…the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. Even more romantic than a blow job behind a Waffle House dumpster.” Logan couldn’t hide his smirk as Wade gushed at his little trick. It wasn’t all that amazing—it had worked on a few ladies, back when smoking cigars was seen as cool and not the sign of a health risk. Wade seemed like the type to eat it up. “Do you even know how fucking awesome you are, like—everything!” Wade motioned to Logan’s entire being.

”You’re not lettin’ me forget it any time soon.” Logan puffed on the cigar again, looking toward the TV. There was a bit of downtime before Wade was breaking the ice once again.

“Have you ever been with a guy romantically before?” Logan scrunched up his nose at the awkward question. He shifted a bit in the bed.

”Not that I can remember. You?”

“Mostly just one night stands. I was just asking to see if you’re like, terribly homophobic. You know, testing the vibe.” Logan bit down on the cigar lightly.


”Bub, if I was homophobic I would’a ditched you way sooner than now. Think it would be a bit hypocritical of me, seein’ as people like me aren’t exactly accepted with open arms.”

”Right, right…” Logan could tell by his tone, and the tension in the air that he was thinking of asking another question. Probably another stupid one. “Have you ever had feelings for a guy?”

“Why’re you askin’?” Logan puffed on the cigar again. Smoke masked his face in a cloud. Suddenly, Wade was reaching for the TV remote, turning the volume down until it was almost silent.

“Just curious.”

“Y’know what they say about that. Curiosity killed the cat and all.” Logan’s voice was low.

But satisfaction brought it back, kitten-whiskers. You can’t get out that easy.” Logan shifted again in the bed, not even sparing a glance in Wade’s direction. Some part of him thought maybe he knew what Wade was getting at—the other part thought he was being an egotistical asshole, and it was probably just a simple question. He never could quite pin down Wade.

“Maybe once or twice.” Logan conceded at that vague answer.

“What’s your type?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

“What’s yours?”

”I asked you first, princess.”

“Well I’m not answerin’ until you do, bub.”

Wade sighed dramatically. “Fine. I guess…dark hair, brooding attitude, never in a good mood, a jungle of body hair, hates my jokes but actually secretly loves them. That type.”

Logan’s jaw tensed. His gaze burned into the TV screen. He puffed on the cigar more, nearly inhaling the smoke as he did so. “Guess…my type would be…” Logan’s voice caught on his throat. Just on the tip of his tongue. “Always somehow in a good mood. Makin’ jokes at the worst of times but also the best of times. Chronically unable to be fuckin’ serious about anythin’ for more than a minute. Insecure, but hides it well. Terrible fuckin’ singer, I mean breakin’ glass kind’ve bad.”

The silence between them was incredibly loud. Logan’s claws could probably slice through the tension in the air. There was a shaky breath beside him, and Logan finally looked. The mask was pulled back down over Wade’s face, so he couldn’t see.

”Wade?”

Goddammit, you know I love it when you say my name, you fucking sexy dark horse man.” Wade’s voice trembled.

“Why are you cryin’?”

I’m not—it’s just…cigar smoke. So much smoke—everywhere. In my eyes.” Logan pulled the cigar from his mouth, putting it out on the wood of the nightstand.

”There, no more cigar. So now what’s the real reason?” Wade looked toward him, sniffling underneath the fabric. Slowly, he pulled up the fabric from his mouth.

“Can I kiss you upside down Spider-Man style?”

What? No.” Logan was startled by the bluntness. “But…” his jaw shifted a bit as he contemplated what he was going to say next. “…Fuck it.” Logan leaned forward, grabbing the sides of Wade’s face as he did the unthinkable. He kissed Wade Wilson.

Their lips pressed together. Logan could still taste the cigar smoke on his lips. Wade’s skin was surprisingly soft. He took in a deep breath, the smell of the other strong enough to make his head spin. Fuck, this was almost too much.

Wade’s hands did not waste time brushing themselves through Logan’s mutton chops, beginning to travel up to his hair. As the scent began to make his heart pound and heat begin to travel south…he pulled away. Both of them were left with heavy breaths.

“I never would have expected you to make the first move, kitten-whiskers.” Logan’s eyes traveled over Wade’s body before he forcefully looked away.

”I’m just full of surprises, I guess.”

Chapter 13: Family Fun Roadtrip

Summary:

Wade and Logan begin heading back to New York. Wade can’t help but push Logan’s buttons.

Notes:

WARNING: gay men flirting (proceed with caution)

Just imagine that I’m at work doing my retail job and thinking up this joyful dialogue in between helping guests.

Chapter Text


Wade examined the busted radio as Logan worked on taping up the smashed driver side window.

”If I didn’t know that you loved my singing I would have thought that you purposely aimed for the radio.” Logan paused from outside the car, the duct tape stretching across the frame.

“It reminds me of you—not that I’m sayin’ I wanna punch you or anythin’. Not always—what I mean is just with the situation…” Wade grinned as he turned around to fish around in the messy floorboard of the backseat.

”It’s okay Logie-bear, I get what you mean. Lucky for you, I have a special backup for occasions like this.” Logan raised an eyebrow, sitting down in the driver seat as Wade pulled a cordless radio into his lap. Not just any radio, mind you. It was white and pink and very much reminiscent of Hello Kitty. Turning it on and pressing play, it quickly started up.


I know that I can’t take no more, it ain’t no lie!

I wanna see you out that door, baby

Bye, bye, bye!

”It’s already pre-loaded with NSYNC’s greatest hits!” Wade shouted over the blaring music as Logan grimaced at him.

”Turn it off.”

YOU MAY HATE ME BUT IT AIN’T NO LIE—WHAT?”

Off.” Logan raised his voice, looking progressively more irate, he even started to cover his ears. Wade swayed in his seat until Logan reached over, pressing the power button. Wade’s voice died mid lyric as it suddenly shut off.

“Not an NSYNC fan, huh? That’s okay, I also have a Mariah Carey’s greatest hits CD, too.”

“I hate you so much.”

Unfortunately for Logan, he was going to become very acquainted with Wade’s CD collection over the course of the day long drive back to New York.

A few hours into the drive, they had to stop for gas. Wade had turned down the radio, glancing out the windows as he quietly pulled up the hood of his hoodie. He tried to be inconspicuous about it—he didn’t want to broadcast that, hey, he didn’t want people to see his hideous face. Apparently, Logan noticed.

”You wanna wait out here while I go inside?” His voice was low, a sultry softness. Wade shifted in his seat.

”What if you need someone to hold the cashier at gun point while we reverse rob them?” Wade chuckled uncomfortably.

“Figure we’ve gotten far enough out that I’m less known here. It’s okay if you don’t wanna go in.” Wade swallowed as he looked out the window again. If it was darker outside, maybe. But in broad daylight? Hell no.

”I think I’ll sit this one out, princess.” Logan was quiet for a moment before he opened the driver door, stepping out. Before he left Wade alone in the car, he turned and leaned into the car.

“You want snacks or anythin’?” Crippling insecurity did make him a bit peckish.

“Yeah—your pick, kitten-whiskers.” Wade looked toward Logan, that more bright smile returning to his face. Logan’s lips just barely curled into a smile and he stood up straight, closing the door and heading into the gas station. Wade didn’t waste any time turning up the music again.

Although it didn’t really block out the thoughts, it only gave them the backtrack of Emotions by Mariah Carey. Wade pulled the draw strings on his hoodie, closing it tighter. Did Logan’s blood make him a mutant too, now? Or maybe something close, since as far as he knew, all mutants gained their abilities some time around puberty.

It’d make his job a piece of cake—he didn’t know if he could even die. But was that worth looking like a chewed up piece of gum? Would he die of old age like everyone else? This train of thought had him wondering just how long Logan had been alive. Wade inhaled a deep breath.

Okay. It was fine, awesome even.

Wade wouldn’t have to be alone much longer, because he saw Logan approaching in the rear-view mirror. He felt two bags, but before he got in the car, he started the gas pump so they could fill up.

Opening the driver door, Logan sat down with a huff. “I got a few things. This bag is mine, this is yours. Got us two hotdogs. Figured some actual food would be good. Got you some chips—drinks. Didn’t know what you liked so I grabbed a few.” Logan placed his own bag in his lap, unsurprisingly pulling a whiskey bottle from it.

In broad daylight, sitting in the driver seat, he popped it open and took a big boy drink. “Drinking and driving, huh? Living on the edge.” Logan snorted, and Wade felt his stomach flutter like he was a school girl making eye contact with her crush.


“That’s the only way I live, bub.” Logan put the bottle away, stepping back out to take the gas pump out. Looking into his own bag, Wade found an assortment of chips and snacks and a few different sodas. Pepsi, Coke, Dr. Pepper. Wade had always considered himself a Pepsi drinker first, and a Dr. Pepper fan on the side. Not that it mattered, because he would be consuming all of these sugary beverages.

Before too long, Logan would be back in the driver seat, and they would be on the road. If they drove straight to New York, it’d be a day. But since they did in fact need sleep and food and Wade liked sight seeing, it’d probably be more like a day and a half.

They were nearing Minnesota (according to Wade’s expert navigational skills) when he decided to begin asking actual questions.

“So, with your healing and stuff. It got me thinking—how long have you been alive? Do you know?” Logan’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“I don’t know how old I am. I remember some stuff—I remember I had a dad and a mom, and that Victor was my half-brother. Can’t really remember how far back that was. The further back I try to remember, the fuzzier it gets. I would say I’ve been alive for a long fuckin’ time, though.”

“Wow…never thought I’d get all hot and bothered for a senior citizen.” Logan glared at him and Wade shoved some chips into his own mouth to hide his smile. After some silence between them, only filled by the Hello Kitty radio, Logan spoke again.

”You also been thinkin’ about what it might mean now that you have my healin’?” Wade washed down the chips with the Pepsi.

“Do you think anything could kill you? Really kill you?” Logan glanced at him.

“Maybe. If all my meat was evaporated off my bones, maybe. I think it’d take a hell of a lot to kill me, and for me to stay dead.” Wade let out a breath.

”Do you think you’ll die of old age?” The music played on. Wade felt still in his seat.

“In a long while. Eventually.” But that didn’t answer whether Wade would die of old age. The hopeful option was that his aging was really slow, likely like Logan’s. The less hopeful option…

”What if hundreds of years later, you die and I’m still alive? I guess I’d hold my end of the deal. Forever.” Wade stared off at the road.

”We got hundreds of years till that even becomes a possibility, bub.” When Wade didn’t respond, his mind shockingly quiet for once in his life, Logan nudged him over the center console. “Stop thinkin’ about it. It doesn’t get you anywhere good, bub. I know.”

Wade looked toward Logan. “I guess in the meantime I’ll just have to annoy you till you get sick of me, huh?” Logan smirked.

”I’m already sick of ya.”

Much to Wade’s absolute delight, Logan seemed happier when he finally switched out Mariah Carey for Nickelback. He caught him tapping his fingers on the wheel or bouncing his leg in time with the beat—which quickly resulted in Logan glancing at him and stopping abruptly.

Although it was fun to watch Logan try so desperately to hide his grooving, Wade was bored. And he was growing more antsy by the minute. Wade groaned, sprawling out in his seat as Logan shot looks at him.

”Are we there yet?”

“No.” Logan held the wheel with one hand. His other arm rested on the center. Wade glanced toward him a few times before placing his two fingers on the center. He moved them as if they were seductive legs carefully sauntering toward his hairy arm. Before they could reach Logan, the man swatted his hand away.

”Stop.” Wade crossed his arms, huffing as he looked out the window, making a show to huddle himself against the door. “Why are you doin’ that.”

“I’m bored!”

”Read a magazine or somethin’.” Logan reached over to Wade’s side, pulling the glove box open. It was packed full of old napkins, for some reason more condoms (Wade knew the reason fully), a few stray hot sauce packets, and the magazines.

Wade stopped pouting momentarily to grab one of the magazines, flipping through the pages. He had ‘read them’ lots of times—they weren’t just regular magazines. He landed on a page that had a handsome, muscular man posing in slutty black underwear. He held the page toward Logan,

”Is this guy more attractive than me?” Logan glanced toward the page, swiftly doing a double take, and promptly glaring at Wade as his face started to dust a light shade of pink. Wade wasn’t sure whether it was from anger or something else.

“Why the fuck do you have those kinds of magazines in here?”

Dodging the question…I see what’s going on here.” Wade slapped the magazine closed, tossing it to the floor board and crossing his arms once again. An aggravated growl rumbled in Logan’s direction.

He isn’t but I’m sure he fuckin’ knows how to sit still once in a fuckin’ while.

“If all it takes to win your heart is to sit still then maybe I’ll just have to find the perfect seat, kitten-whiskers.” That had been a genuine flirt. Not that his other hundreds of comments hadn’t been—but this was aimed, and boy, did it hit.

Logan fell utterly silent, and Wade couldn’t fight off the nagging urge inside himself to look at the other. Logan looked absolutely locked in to the road. His body was hunched over, the muscles in his arm resting on the center console expertly shielding his groin from Wade’s view.

Wade sighed, and yes he did his very best to make it sound as scandalous as possible. His fingers returned to the center, waltzing their way closer and poking up Logan’s arm. “I think you need to unwind a little bit, big boy.” He poked Logan’s bicep before crawling his fingers up his shoulder and near his shoulder blade.

Logan shivered, shaking his head quickly before shoving Wade’s hand away again. “I want you to think real fuckin’ hard, bub. Do you want me to unwind? When we find the next hotel, give me your answer.” Wade was frozen for a moment as Logan shot a look at him. Somewhere between glowering and absolutely ravenous.

That was enough to get Wade to quit. Truthfully, even if he wanted to pretend he was thinking about it, he knew the answer within a few seconds of his neurons activating. His skin felt warm and buzzing with energy. He was so fucking ready.

Chapter 14: Biting Off More Than You Can Chew

Summary:

Logan and Wade get more intimate in more ways than one.

Notes:

- special notice for EXPLICIT material in this chapter. we’re there, folks.

I usually do try to keep my explicit writing mainly focusing on the emotions and meaning of the intimacy :-) mostly<3

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

Chapter Text

It was well into the night when they reached the next hotel. Wade carried Mary Puppins to the room while Logan stalked close behind. His thoughts meandered a bit before they narrowed on one thing. Wade had wanted to push his buttons—in a specific way. Now he was going to see how much of that was just talk.

Wade let Mary Puppins down on the carpet as Logan flipped on the light. He was sort of getting sick and tired of the dim lights in these dingy rooms, the smells, the stains. Maybe he was just extra stimulated in the moment. Wade carelessly flopped down on the bed. Logan’s eyes followed him. Both surprisingly and somehow unsurprisingly, Wade didn’t immediately bring up the question hanging in the air.

”You had time to think, bub.” Logan tossed his bag full of his whiskey and cigars on the floor near his side of the bed. “So what’s it gonna be?”

“Sitting around in awkward silence really kills the mood, you know?”

“Look who’s dodgin’ now.” Logan grumbled, turning to head to the bathroom. “Guess you’re all talk after all.” He couldn’t deny that Wade had gotten him worked up, and after not having been with anyone for a while, he had played right into it. Logan felt like an idiot. Before he could get to the bathroom, something soft smacked the back of his head.

Logan spun around, gaze quickly dropping to see a pillow on the floor.

“Hey princess, I didn’t say ‘no’. Ever heard of foreplay before?” Logan leaned down and picked up the pillow before hurling it back at Wade.

Fucker,” Wade caught the pillow, but before he could react much more, Logan was leaping to the bed. The springs creaked dramatically under his weight. He had effortlessly positioned himself between Wade’s legs as the other man yelped in shock.

His claws in one hand unsheathed, shredding the pillow Wade was using to cover his face. Feathers flew everywhere, and Wade only clutched the tattered remains of the pillow in his hands.

Holy shit!” Logan’s other hand shot through the flurry of the pillow’s remains, grabbing Wade’s neck. It was satisfying to see the other man’s face as the feathers cleared. Staring at Logan wide eyed. He leaned closer over the other.

How’s that for fuckin’ foreplay?

“Someone’s feeling feisty. You sure you can handle all this excitement, kitten-whiskers?”

Logan scrunched up his nose, the feeling of energy filling his chest and lungs. He almost grinned. “I’ve been workin’ up to handlin’ you, bub.” Logan readjusted his hand to grab Wade’s leg under his knee, pushing it back toward his chest as Logan leaned down further to sniff at Wade’s neck.

Wade exhaled sharply when Logan bit at his neck. Not too hard, but hard enough to leave a mark—at least in the moment. “Don’t be afraid to hurt me, princess. I’m not gonna break.” Logan bit down harder, nearly able to feel Wade’s muscles as he swallowed. His tongue licked at any blood that managed to slip out of the wounds before they inevitably closed again.

It was new to Logan—being able to hurt someone he cared about without it seriously harming them or even killing them. Especially in bed, where some kind of haze fell over his mind. He had grown accustomed to holding back, to using extremely measured strength. Never too much, never too far. But with Wade…

He could feel Wade’s hand grabbing at his other wrist—the claws had returned to their position in his forearm. But as Wade’s fingers travelled closer to his knuckles, massaging and nearly coaxing the claws back out, they returned. Wade’s fingers glided over the silver blades.

Logan only turned his head slightly from Wade’s neck to watch as the man practically cut his own fingers on the bottom edges. Blood swelled before the wounds closed quickly. “At least this whole healing thing makes this ten times more hot.”

You’re a fuckin’ lunatic.” Wade grinned before lifting his hips to try and grind against Logan.

“You can’t tell me you’re some vanilla virgin saint who’s never thought about having hot, bloody, animalistic sex before. The same guy who covered himself in animal guts? Yeah right.” Logan furrowed his eyebrows, stabbing his claws into the bed to stabilize himself as he rocked his hips against Wade’s.

That ain’t the same thing.” Apparently, he was already getting very aroused, and could barely stop himself as he began dry humping Wade. Wade only shuddered a laugh. Logan could feel his other hand reaching and tugging at the bottom of his shirt and the buckle of his belt. His fingers grazing the bottom of his abdomen made him want to thrust more.

Settle down before you cum in your pants, princess.” Logan carefully pulled his hips back. The heat between them and the smell in the air made it hard for Logan to think of any other retort than ‘shut up’. Huffing a few impatient breaths as his hand dropped Wade’s knee in favor of undoing his pants and finally freeing himself from the aching pain that was beginning to grow in his groin.

Wade’s hand couldn’t help but be in the mix—scratching at his happy trail and the hair further down that only grew darker and thicker. Logan grunted and bucked his hips when the other’s fingers made contact with the base of his penis.

“Eager, aren’t’cha?” Logan lowered his face back to Wade’s neck. Wade’s fingers continued deeper until he could wrap his whole hand around the base. Logan only let out ragged breaths against the skin of his neck. “Let’s just have a little more fun first, ‘kay?”

The other’s voice and tone wormed itself inside Logan’s brain. Not unlike how it did before—except now instead of eliciting irritation, it drew Logan in. He couldn’t help but go along with whatever Wade wanted. This fact itself made Logan a little irritated. But it was quickly overshadowed by the feeling of Wade beginning to work his hand carefully up and down Logan’s erection.

Fuck.” Logan pulled his claws from the bed, dragging them across the fabric and flesh of Wade’s thigh. Only enough for it to bleed. Underneath him, Wade whimpered and tightened his hand on Logan’s erection momentarily. He pressed kisses along Wade’s neck, a small apology for the pain even though Wade had clearly welcomed it with open arms.

The air was sickeningly sweet, and as he bit into Wade’s neck and shoulder a few more times, his mouth was watering. Logan didn’t know how long it had been since everything felt this right.

Shit—kitten-whiskers…you need to fuck me.” Wade groaned, a strained and pleasurable noise. Logan did need to. The claws slid back inside as Logan leaned up on his knees. Easily, he was able to grab the top of Wade’s pants—thankful that all he was wearing was baggy sweatpants.

Without much effort he pulled them down, though chose to keep the underwear and pants bunched around Wade’s thighs. It was getting increasingly hot in the room, and Logan took an extra few seconds to pull his own shirt off, tossing it aside. Wade’s hands were practically glued to his chest within that short amount of time. In the haze, Logan might have smugly thought about how long Wade had been wanting to feel him up.

Logan paused suddenly as his hand lifted Wade’s leg into the air. The man’s ass was tantalizing—but that wasn’t why he had paused. “We don’t have lube.”

Are you fucking kidding me,” the first actual hint of irritation edged its way into Wade’s voice, “just shove it in, Logie-bear.” Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He positioned himself, lifting Wade up a bit further as his fingers dug into his muscle. Then he began to push in. It wasn’t easy, but it seemed Wade wasn’t new to things being inserted down there. Even with all the relaxing in the world, it didn’t take away from how goddamn tight it was.

Bordering on painful for even Logan, he forced himself in, making room that was hardly there. Wade shuddered and gasped, hands clawing at Logan’s chest. “You okay, bub?” Logan breathed out. His groin pulsed with the want to fuck this perfect spot.

“Perfect—perfect, princess.” Logan lowered himself against Wade’s legs, wrapping his arms around them. After pushing himself until his hips were flush against Wade’s, he waited a short moment. It felt like fucking for the first time—messy, unplanned, but yet so perfect.

Wade tried to reach his hands around to Logan’s back, and Logan leaned down further, pressing Wade’s legs against his chest. All he really had to do to compress the other was use his raw body weight.

Soon, he couldn’t take the stillness anymore. “Ready?

“I’ve been ready, big boy.” Logan pulled his hips back before thrusting into Wade, immediately trying to set an even pace. Wade cried out, his fingernails digging into the skin of Logan’s back. The bed creaked with each movement, the headboard beginning to thump against the wall.

Logan didn’t care if the whole hotel heard them fucking.

Growls purred in his chest as he rocked himself into Wade, the scratching and clawing at his back only pushing him further. In truth, he felt a bit dizzy from the overstimulation of it all. Whispers of Wade’s voice trickled in past all the other noises.

Good boy, yes you are.” Logan’s head felt warm, a tingling feeling travelled down his spine. Maybe Wade had gained extra manipulation abilities after the fire. Because the only other explanation, was that Logan was in love.

Wade didn’t pull away or tell him to stop when Logan began to more sloppily buck his hips into him, gaining force with each movement. Wade never told him it was too much, only asked for more. The first person who had arguably seen all of Logan, and still asked for more.

It would only be another few seconds before Logan came, his chest heaved with husky breaths. Wade’s hand had curled into his hair somewhere in between then and now, scratching his head and tugging as Logan leaned down press their lips together. Wade’s heart beat pounded on—and Logan guessed he had came too from the way it stuttered, and the way his entire body tightened and relaxed a moment after.

Logan pulled away to take Wade’s pants and underwear the rest of the way off, tossing them in some random direction.

He laid down beside Wade, turning the other man on his side and pulling his back to his chest. Logan’s hand guided his lingering erection back in, thrusting slowly a few more times. His arms wrapped around Wade. Feeling every inch of his scarred chest, moving lower toward his groin. Wade shivered against him.

Logan pressed his nose against the back of Wade’s neck, sniffing. Their scents mingled together, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Eventually, Logan’s stuttering thrusts had stopped, simply warming himself inside Wade.

Exhaustion from the unfamiliar burst of excitement overtook him. Logan listened to the calm thumping inside Wade’s chest. The noise seemed to often get Logan closer to sleep, especially now. “Bub?” Wade hummed in response. “Ya tired?” Another barely conscious hum.

G’night, Wolvie.” Logan’s eyes closed, unbothered by the lights still on in the room.

“Night, Wade.” Wade’s hand intertwined their fingers together. Logan’s heart ached in his chest very suddenly at that. He felt the most content he had in a while—and tonight, he didn’t dread falling asleep like he had every night before.

Delicate traces against his arm. Combing over and retracing the steps. Logan’s body jumped awake before he could fully awake himself. His eyes popped open, sitting up abruptly in the bed as he glanced around the room.

”Hey, hey—,” Wade had flipped to face Logan, propping himself up on his elbow with a partly confused, partly worried look. Logan took in a breath. The scent of sweat and sex hung in the air. He looked down at the bed—at Wade’s body and his own. When he had properly assessed that nothing terrible had happened in his sleep, he finally began to relax. “What was that all about?” Wade spoke up again. Logan grunted.

”Nothin’, just…makin’ sure.” Wade scrunched up his face. “Makin’ sure that nothin’ happened.” Logan glanced down before letting himself sink back into the bed. There was a bit of silence as they both sat with that.

“You hungry? ‘Cause I could eat, I am starving after last night.” Wade’s hand snaked its way back over to Logan’s arm. It was strange. They had been through a lot together—had sex, now. But Logan still felt the need to try and put up some wall. As if again, sleep reset all safety he had gained in the previous day. Last night was a distant, blissful dream. And now that it was over, he was left with…himself.

“How do you do it?” Logan looked toward Wade. The other tilted his head.


”Do what?”

“Be…happy, all the time. How are you so happy?” Wade looked at him for a few silent moments.

”I’m not happy all the time. I’m pretty much the worst kind of person you can be.” Wade laughed, but Logan didn’t see much humor there. “You know, I’ve always had this idea that what I do to other people doesn’t matter, because it’s just a job. I do it, I get the money, and I forget about it.” Wade paused, looking down slowly.


“Bub—,”

”I’m funny because if I wasn’t, I’d be a shitty person and a debby downer. I had to pick a struggle.” Wade shrugged, pulling his hand away from Logan. “So what do you say about getting food, huh?” Logan had thoughts swirling around his mind, but he could see that the last thing the other man wanted to talk about was his deep seated feelings.

“Sure, bub. Let’s get cleaned up first, though.” Logan honestly felt crusty, and he was sure Wade probably felt similar or worse. The first and maybe last time Logan would suggest actually taking action to be more cleanly, instead of just letting it sit.

”Wolvie actually wanting a shower?! Oh how the mighty have fallen…

”Shut up, idiot.” Logan shook his head and moved to get out of bed, listening to Wade’s snickers behind him.

Notes:

not even touching on Wade’s increasing insecurity until 14 chapters in is real as fuck to me

Chapter 15: Careless Whisper

Summary:

Wade is comforted by Logan. Something strange happens at the bar.

Notes:

Sorry for such a late update (compared to the usual), I’ve been playing a lot of Minecraft :-)

I also apologize for it being shorter!

Chapter Text

The steam from the shower had begun to fog up the mirror. Wade looked down at a crumpled piece of paper he had pulled from his pants. It was a check from the diner.

Vanessa

xxx - xxx - xxxx

He had promised he’d call her. That, maybe further down the line they could meet up again, when Wade wasn’t busy doing what he did. That seemed far and distant in the past now. She couldn’t see the way he looked now—Wade would rather her remember him as attractive and funny. Not a burn patient who was slowly collapsing in on himself due to insecurity.

With some hesitance, Wade crumbled up the paper, balling it into his fist. Then, he tossed it in the trash can. Looking into the mirror, Wade could just barely see his face past the foggy mirror. His pink, fleshy skin. His fingers poked and prodded at it. Examining every bit.

Wade could see the newly formed scars around his neck from last night. Deep canine’s forever immortalized in his skin.

He decided to finally step inside the shower and skip past the whole ‘staring at his reflection like a body dysmorphic teenager’. Because only teenagers felt that way about their body, right?

Stepping into the stream, it was burning hot. Wade had let it get that temperature—and he didn’t reach to turn it any colder. He only stood in the heat. Maybe a lot of his nerves were mostly done for, because it wasn’t even that bad. Wade breathed in the warm and thick air of the shower.

He felt pathetic. He was supposed to be funny, carefree. Unbothered. He was majorly bothered now. Wade was still somewhat convinced that sooner or later, Logan would ditch him. Maybe because now he looked like he did, or he wasn’t funny and just annoying. Or maybe he just had too much baggage than what he was worth.

How do you do it?

That question kept swirling around in his head. How do you be happy all the time? The short answer, you don’t.

The long answer, you do it because if you didn’t, you’d want to blow your brains out. Could he even blow his brains out now? Wade leaned against the tiled wall of the shower.

Fuck.” Slowly lowering himself, he sat on the floor of the tub. The water sprinkled down, still singeing. At least he had an ‘interesting backstory’ now.

Wade laughed, only when he did, there was a cry intertwined with the noise. More tired laughter came, and Wade was glad he was in the shower because the water made it hard to discern whether it was actually tears.

He hadn’t even realized until a shadow appeared over the shower curtain that Logan had entered the bathroom.

“You okay, bub?” His voice was deep, but loud enough to be heard over the water. Wade wrapped his arms around his knees.

“Just fine princess.” Wade’s voice came out too quiet to really be convincing.

“You mind if I move the curtain?”

“Not if you don’t mind that I’m in my birthday suit, kitten-whiskers.” Logan grunted.

”I’ve already seen anythin’ you could’ve been hidin’.” Then, his hand came around the curtain and he carefully pulled it aside. Somehow, Wade felt even more small and sad under the other man’s gaze. He hunched himself further over his knees.

“So, now that we’ve done the deed, now what?” Logan’s face was dark from the lighting only hitting the back of his head.

”What’d’ya mean?”

“You’re probably satisfied, right? Don’t have to put up with my shit anymore. We’ve done it all. There’s nothing else, except dealing with all the other crap that’s not so fun.” Wade didn’t even look at Logan now. He couldn’t.

“Are you bein’ serious right now?” Wade laughed more.

”When am I ever not serious?”

“You’re a dumb fuck, Wade.” Wade felt the words reach deep inside of his chest, grabbing hold of his heart. He expected them to crush it. “Where the hell did you get off thinkin’ that I ever had to put up with your shit? I didn’t. I did it because I fuckin’ chose to. I’m not a fuckin’ shallow prick, you asshole.”

Wade only glanced up as Logan stepped over the lip of the tub, sitting down in the opposite end of the tub. Because they were both fully grown men, their legs were uncomfortably folded together and against each other. The water slowly sprinkled and began to flatten Logan’s hair, rolling over his shoulders.

“Are you going to tell me to fuck off for being an ignorant idiot?”

“No. I’m gonna tell you to shut the fuck up for sayin’ stupid shit.” Logan leaned forward placing his hand around the back of Wade’s neck. It wasn’t comfortable or convent, but their foreheads pressed together. Logan looked at him intently, and Wade felt like he wanted to squirm out from underneath it. “Stop makin’ up goddamn crap to make yourself feel worse. I might have nowhere else better to be than fuckin’ here, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather be here than somewhere else.”

Wade felt weak. Like jello in Logan’s hands. That at any moment, he would collapse into a mess.

“Do ya hear me, bub?”

”Loud and clear, princess.” Logan seemed to relax, and turned to place a quick kiss on Wade’s lips. He felt little electric sparks race through him, and although the water was boiling, inside his chest grew even warmer. Wade didn’t have any silly comment, or slick flirt. He didn’t have anything, except admiration for Logan and…

Maybe love.

Wade pulled his hoodie tight over his head as they entered the bar. He stuck close to Logan, avoiding much eye contact or glances with anyone. He had wanted to wear his mask inside—but Logan said it might look like he was going to rob the place, and probably not the best idea since most bartenders did at least keep a shotgun under the counter. Apparently Logan had experience with that.

So, he was stuck pulling the draw strings tight and keeping any inch of his skin as hidden as possible. Thankfully, instead of sitting at the bar counter itself, Logan opted for a booth in the corner.

They had both gotten burgers. Wade hadn’t realized it, but since Logan’s blood had begun repairing every inch of his body, now he also had an insatiable craving for protein. While Logan scarfed down his own food and quickly emptied a dozen beers, Wade was slowly working his way through his own food.

Even though he was really starving, his body was intensely unsettled by something. He couldn’t quite place it at first. Maybe an uncomfortable feeling. A bit of pressure inside his brain, like the beginning of a headache. He closed his eyes, trying to relax, but the pressure only worsened with it.

Wade wasn’t insane by any means. At least he hadn’t been. More and more he couldn’t help but feel like something inside him had been lost—or broken, after he was practically brought back to life from the brink. His eyes popped open and he looked around the bar, scanning the faces of people having a drink or eating and watching the TV in the corner.

In a few short seconds, some interesting things happened. First, his eyes landed on a woman at the bar. Her hair was a ginger red color. Her eyes met his, and Wade could have sworn that she was staring him down. But just as soon as they met gazes, she was turning away. The mounting headache in his skull went away, just like that. Wade blinked.

Although she had turned away, he looked a few moments longer until Logan’s foot lightly kicked him under the table. Wade startled back to attention.

”I didn’t know you were into playing footsie, kitten-whiskers.” Wade playfully extended his own foot, except Logan quickly shifted his legs away. The other man grunted.

”What were you starin’ at?”

Wade didn’t want to sound like he had completely dived off the deep end, so he had to come up with some excuse. “Just admiring the local wildlife.” Of course, he was referring to the plentiful day drinkers. Logan might’ve been included, except he was special.

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed before he rolled his eyes. “Just make sure you eat enough. Got a long drive ahead of us, bub. And I don’t plan on makin’ a stop every 2 hours.” That last bit was more accusatory. It wasn’t Wade’s fault that long drives made him bounce off the walls. Wade only smiled before beginning to eat his food.

But he couldn’t shake that woman—her piercing grey eyes, only made more cold by the warm tone of her hair.

“What superhero name do you think would go really well with ‘Wolverine’? I’m trying to brainstorm my new secret identity.” Logan huffed,

”’Wolverine’ isn’t a superhero name, idiot.” Although Logan still called him names, the tone only grew softer and more sweet to hear.

We Met at the Bar - Anonymous (2024)

References

Top Articles
Latest Posts
Recommended Articles
Article information

Author: Jonah Leffler

Last Updated:

Views: 5275

Rating: 4.4 / 5 (65 voted)

Reviews: 88% of readers found this page helpful

Author information

Name: Jonah Leffler

Birthday: 1997-10-27

Address: 8987 Kieth Ports, Luettgenland, CT 54657-9808

Phone: +2611128251586

Job: Mining Supervisor

Hobby: Worldbuilding, Electronics, Amateur radio, Skiing, Cycling, Jogging, Taxidermy

Introduction: My name is Jonah Leffler, I am a determined, faithful, outstanding, inexpensive, cheerful, determined, smiling person who loves writing and wants to share my knowledge and understanding with you.