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The matter was scorching to the touch, by now Wade already had a fistful of it entwined around his fingers. God, was it painful, it was so, unbelievably, fucking painful, but he’d done it now, hadn’t he? Logan was pounding on the metal door, slowly denting it, moulding it to the shape of his body, but not fast enough. If he’s honest, Wade had thought about death a lot. Self-inflicted death, non-self-inflicted death. It was much of a muchness. He wouldn’t actually die, not really. Probably. Most of the time, whereas an ordinary human would die, he’d be knocked out for about five seconds and in tip-top shape within ten. Yet there was something surreal about the promise of a permanent death that made his chest tighten. To be vulnerable was a frightening thought, one he’d banished to the deepest depths of his mind for years. To live through your own body being torn apart and atomised was even scarier, and it was a truth that absolutely couldn’t be stowed away and forgotten. Death was a promise now, and he was standing, just barely, in the face of it.
Wade hadn’t expected the matter to be so strong, almost gravitic, as he fought to yield the antimatter in his other hand. Just a few more steps, a punch, and a grab. He could do that, couldn’t he? He’d suffered worse in his career as Deadpool. Career. What a joke. It wasn’t much of a career, it certainly wasn’t Avengers-Level. Hell, he’d spent the past however long selling cars. No, it wasn’t much of a career, but it was his. He’d known love, and bravery, and forgiveness, and friendship. And, oh, shit, he’s totally getting sappy right now. Talk about the wrong place at the wrong time. He sighs, feet kicking pathetically off the ground as he tries, with all his might, to just make it. He doesn’t want to fail. He knows what’ll happen if he succeeds, imminent death, to put it simply, but the idea of not knowing is equally terrifying. Everyone he knows would die, that’s true, he’d join them, and it would all be for nothing. He’d have gotten Logan needlessly killed too, which is a thought he couldn’t afford to dwell on for long, because the very idea of it made Wade more than a little queasy.
It was all one big poetic joke. Self-sacrifice? Who is he kidding, Wade totally isn’t cut out for that. Yet here he is, body convulsing, muscles tearing, skin blistering, doing it anyway. Merc with a mouth. Never shuts the fuck up. Wade loves jokes, absolutely, one hundred percent, but he couldn’t really find much to laugh at with this one. Was there really ever anything to laugh at to begin with? Maybe he should’ve just kept his mouth shut, just for a minute, and thought for once. Maybe he should’ve just accepted the stupid Marvel deal, made movies until he was ninety, and retired peacefully while his universe fizzled from existence. His family would want him to survive, wouldn’t they? At least, if not them, him.
Logan bangs on the door again, ceaselessly, pleading, amidst a barrage of curses, for him to just fucking open it. Well, jokes on both of them, he can’t. Logan knows that. Wade knows that. So why does it hurt so much to just ignore him? They’ll both be better for it- Well, maybe not, because best case scenario is Wade ceasing to exist- but still. Leaving them to die, though, to rot in ways that are incomprehensible? It’s out of the question. No. No self-sacrifice. It wasn’t him that he was sacrificing himself for. Another kick against the door and Wade knows that he has to try just that little bit harder. For them. For… Them. He grits his teeth, attempts to crack a joke and tries to yell it at Logan in a last ditch effort to reassure the both of them, but the machine whirs and all attempts at humour fall flat. His voice cracks, dying pathetically in his throat.
It was just a matter of seconds until he was too late. He was going to be too late, wasn’t he? Deadpool wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t Marvel Jesus. He was just some guy who happened to have a killer body and the regeneration ability of a fucking salamander. Wade Wilson was going to die, right fucking now, and he’d drag everyone down with him. Thor was never going to caress him and cry, Cap would never recognise him as an Avenger. There would be nothing left to assemble. If he’s honest with himself, there never was anyway. The truth was a bitch- A very angry bitch who came to give him the most unpleasant spanking of all time, at arguably the very worst time to receive a spanking. It wasn’t with pleasure or anything, but he was definitely growing delirious. Fuck. Fucking. Fuck!
Wade Wilson was a fucking failure. He failed at relationships. He failed at recovery, the one thing he’s supposed to be inhumanly good at. He failed at saving the world. He failed at saving his world. His world. Not the one he’d fought for all along, but the one he’d promised to somebody else along the way. Oh, shit. He was a really shitty person, wasn’t he? He was worse than the bald bitch, for fuck sake. At least Cassandra was honest in her faults, wore them like a badge of fucking honour. Wade had been blind to his faults all along, intentionally, and paraded around as some fucking comedic genius, when really, honestly, he just wanted to die.
Well, now he was going to. It wasn’t all it was chalked up to be, but it’ll do. He just hopes, for their sake, that his family won’t feel a thing. Maybe, if this fucked up ordeal is allowed a form of a happy ending, they won’t even have any idea what’s going on. That would be the dream. Oh, yeah. That would be good. He could live with that. Or, die with it, he guesses. Whatever. The banging had stopped, or maybe he couldn’t hear it anymore. He couldn’t hear a thing either, not really, not over all of the stupid, fucking, ridiculously noisy tech. Ah, well.
Wade knows he’s out of time. Or, he should be. But then there’s him. There’s always him. The anchor being. Fucking Logan. Logan. Logan. Logan. It was actually, all things considered, a really nice name. Really rolled off the tongue. Logan. Wolverine. Jesus, he really oozed badassery. Wade can’t even speak, as much as he’d like to say another incredibly stupid quip, but he’s incredibly conscious of his chest constricting when Logan grabs his hand. When did he even get in? How? He was strong, yes, no duh, but like, come on? Wade wanted to be the sacrifice, that was the whole purpose of tricking him in the first place. If the asshole had a death wish, he shouldn’t have been so easy to push out of the way in the first place. Self-righteous, stupid, fucking Logan. Logan! No, I’ll do it, Wade, shut up, I gotta save the world. Yeah, right. Meh meh meh meh. No fucking way! It was Wade’s turn to do the right thing. To do right by Logan. To do right by the world. Screw the pity party he was throwing for himself earlier, he was definitely a hero. A way bigger one than Logan. He was Marvel-fucking-Jesus, for fuck sake!
Well, at least the whole thing hadn’t gone kaboom yet. And, he looks at Logan intently, his body is definitely still intact so he likely hadn’t been atomised either. That gave him about a second to convince Logan to run for the fucking hills and never look back. He was a good doggy, wasn’t he? He could run faster than the end of the world, for sure. Wade scoffs, rolling his eyes at Logan, “Thanks for the help, pretty boy, but I’ve got this. You can go now. Toodles.”
“After you tricked me? No fucking way, Bub,” Logan snaps back haughtily. He seems almost annoyed, his demeanour cold and icy. Though, when Wade spares him a glance, Logan seems genuinely conflicted. Almost as if he’s grappling with an emotion that he had never experienced before. His face, though mostly hidden by the mask, is noticeably red and the indent of his eyebrows are threaded together in the most ridiculously adorable way.
Wade has to actually force himself to look away again, ultimately deadpanning at an invisible camera that he’s sure was there just moments ago. He huffs, “Well. I don’t see any reason why the two of us have to die here. It’s my universe, so why don’t you just skiddaddle and leave the adult things for the adult to handle?”
“I know you don’t hear this a lot, and you probably won’t hear it again, but you’re right. We don’t both have to die here, Bub, so why don’t you be a good boy and get the fuck out? Leave the adult things for the adult to handle, yeah?” Logan refutes, letting out a ridiculously attractive growl when the antimatter melts through his glove and lacerates his hand. “Go on, start running. Go back to her, to the dog, and start a fucking family like you dream about.”
Teeth gritted, Wade wrestles with the matter in his hand, not daring to even loosen his grip. It hurts so much, but the thought of Logan being pulverised hurts that much more. “I haven’t. Ugh. Dreamed of that in a while. Not of her. Not of a family. Well, I have. Of my family. But not with her, not with kids and shit. Just. God, what am I even saying?”
“That’s nice, spectacular even, you fucking pussy, I’m really glad that you’ve only just realised how much of what you say is utter bullshit. Now go. I’m in the middle of saving your universe, I haven’t got the time to fuck around with oneiromancy,” Logan insists, though he sounds much less snarky than Wade has become accustomed too. It was almost unsettling.
“One-air-who-ancy?”
“Dream interpretation, Bub.”
“Oh. I’m surprised that you know such a fancy word.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” Logan laughs. It was the most beautiful thing ever, genuinely. Wade would be content to die at the sight of Logan’s smile, it would go down in history as the most pleasurable death ever, and everyone would absolutely be jealous of him for having seen it. Logan’s smile, what a relic. Wade can’t help but grin too as they look at eachother, intensely, for just a fleeting moment. It’s all they can spare. Some ridiculously sappy and romantic song would be playing right now, he’s sure of it, and entire audiences would be watching with bated breath as they await an unlikely kiss. A kiss that’s doomed to never come. Logan’s face falls, and he’s wincing again, and they’re brought back to reality all too quickly at the sound of a bone snapping. “Well, that fucking hurts! Hurry up and get out of here, Bub, before I make it your problem too.”
Wade shakes his head, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Stop stalling, Bub,” Logan warns. Furiously, Wade wants to scream that he’s not. He’s seriously not going anywhere. He’s not leaving that stupid, fucking room, and he’s not content to watch Logan sacrifice himself, again, almost like it was some sort of a twisted destiny, for something that really wasn’t his problem in the first place. Wade wants to tell Logan to run, to beg him to just go, to not let his sacrifice be in vain. He wanted to be remembered, as selfish as it may be, as a hero. Well, considering the room just fucking exploded, it’s highly likely that neither of them are going anywhere anytime soon. They’d both sacrificed themselves, and spent the last minutes of their lives bickering like petulant, fucking school kids. They’d surely failed, and if they hadn’t, by some miracle, all they had to show for it was Mr-Fucking-Paradox. Karma had come to bite Wade’s ass by way of another shitty, cynical joke. At Least this time he isn’t the one who has to grin and bear it as the audience fumbles to understand the lack of punchline. Bon-fucking-voyage, that was the end of Wade Wilson.
Wade’s surprised to find that he actually wakes up. In a world. A universe. One that isn’t entirely decimated, either, so that’s a start. He sits up, abdomen contorting nastily, and he assumes that he’s not quite healed yet. Glancing around the room, he scratches the back of his head and grimaces to find his nails and fingertips are caked in globs of blood. Well, that’s nasty, and would be cleaned as soon as possible. That’s to say, assuming there actually is somewhere to clean up. If not, saliva could do the job well enough, right? The room is warm and still crackling with energy, making the last of his hair stand upright, and making what’s left of healthy skin trickle with sweat. He can imagine, surprisingly, that he doesn’t look too hot right now. Impressive, right?
He dusts himself off, standing, feeling almost as if he’s forgetting something. Universe, as far as he can tell, saved. His friends, as far as he can assume, saved. His- Logan! Where the fuck was Logan? Had he been atomised? No, that couldn’t be. No fucking way. He was way too strong. If anything, Wade would’ve been the one who had gotten killed. But he was standing here, body intact, and Logan was… Decidedly, not there. He was as absent as a senior on ditch day. And, uh, for those who didn’t know, seniors weren’t fucking there on ditch day. For some reason, saving the world wasn’t as invigorating as Wade thought it would be.
Saving the world hurts a lot, actually. Not even physically. See, that he could handle. Broken bones. A missing limb. Total paralysis. Pffft, walk in the park. But, truthfully, Wade can’t really handle emotional pain. It’s just, like, never really been his strong suit. When he got broken up with, it was like, whatever, until it wasn’t. He’d cry himself to sleep at night. Listen to Taylor Swift songs and sing along terribly. But, uh, this. Logan. Dead. Decimated. Destroyed. Atomised. Bones and all, this time. Well, it hurt a fuck ton. More than any break up ever had. Or ever would. Which is why he was surprised that he couldn’t cry. Like. His body refused to. Point blank. Hell to the no. Nuh uh. He wanted to carve out his own heart but crying was just a step too humiliatingly far. No tears. Not even for the pillow. Just none. Spare yourself the embarrassment, Wade, you’d only known the guy for, like, a month or two. Now he is dead. So what? No need to cry. Just strangle yourself instead, totally harmless fun.
Wade needs to vomit. He’s coughing and spluttering like he’s got a fucking furball, gagging on bile and actively fighting it back down his throat in spite of the unpleasant taste, where it’ll likely just burn holes in his stomach lining instead. Delightful. The human body, hooray! Wade balls his fists and reflects on the past however long, it takes all of his strength to not start punching shit. He ultimately loses his resolve and just starts swinging, his strength having not been entirely recuperated yet. Why was he having this outburst? Um. Well. Holy fucking shit. His hero fantasy was, like, totally stolen and pulled from under his feet. No fair, Wolvie. No fucking fair. What a jerk. Of course, that’s why he’s freaking out. No other reason. Not like Logan was dead. Ha. Crazy.
He was dead. Sure, the alternative would be damaging his liver until guaranteed, painful, slow death in the same bar he drowns his sorrows in, but Wade doesn’t really like that idea either. He doesn’t really like the idea of a dead Logan at all. It just stung. They’d been through a lot together. Logan had sacrificed again, and again, and again for Wade, but Wade could never just shut the fuck up, for one second, like he’d asked. Jesus, not of the Marvel variant, maybe he was the jerk. Not that his being a jerk gave Logan any right to be a jerk, but come on. Lost in thought, Wade sits on the ground and sighs. It’s not until his eyes are sagging shut again, his body practically craving the release of death, and he’s dozing off to sleep, that he allows himself to cry. Just a little, so little that he’d hardly done it at all.
This time, Wade doesn’t wake up.
Ha. Sike. He just doesn’t wake up as peacefully. More like, he’s being heavily pounded on the fucking chest and wakes up gasping for air, with what he’s fairly certain is a freshly broken rib. There’s a breathless sigh above him, and he swears, as impossible as it is, that he’s staring up at Logan. Mask torn, suit in tatters, cynical smile Logan. It’s his Logan. The best Wolverine. That’s impossible, though. Of course it is, Wade had established that Logan was dead the first time he woke up. Unless he’d somehow rewritten history during his nap, this had to have been an illusion. It’s only when a droplet of something wet lands on his half-exposed face that Wade realises this is fucking real. And, oh boy, holy shit. Logan was crying for him! Should he play pretend? Play dead? Was that one romantic song from the hit animated movie Gnomeo and Juliet playing in the background right now? Was Wade Sleeping-Fucking-Beauty?
Eventually, the pounding stops. Which is honestly a relief because Logan is strong as fuck- Naturally, he broke down a reinforced metal door. If he wasn’t strong, The Avengers weren’t the best superhero team in the universe. Oh, though, he imagines Logan would disagree with that anyway, which means he isn’t strong. So it’s an oxymoron. Doesn’t make sense. The X-Men, famed for accepting literally anybody but had somehow rejected Wade. That was Logan’s idea of the best superhero team. Chuckling to himself, Wade can’t keep up the charade any longer. Being rejected from The Avengers was one thing, and it hurt a fuck ton. But… The X-Men? Come on! It was just too fucking funny.
Before Wade even knows what’s happening, he feels the familiar sting of metal claws pierce his torso, and he’s pinned to the nearest wall with Logan’s hand around his neck. “You were fucking alive?” He demands. Jesus, fuck. He looked hot like that. His dark, greying hair singed at the ends. Stormy eyes glaring daggers into Wade. His incredibly attractive face just inches away, hot breath fanning against Wade’s own, marred face. Not to mention. The almost complete lack of a shirt? Wrap Wade in white and express delivery him down the aisle, bouquet, veil, and all. That’s pretty gay. But, come on, it’s Logan. Hugh-Fucking-Jackman. Sounds like an innuendo. Come on, though! You’ve all been fantasising about him since you saw him in action again.
“Slow your roll, Peanut, I just woke up,” Wade complains, shoving Logan’s face away cockily. It’s Logan. Stabbing his ridiculously shiny claws into him. Yeah, sure, Wade’s a borderline masochist. He’ll take it raw. However, it’s getting to the point where he can taste his own blood, and he really isn’t a fan of that. Tastes like copper, or an expired Hersheys or something. Just not nice. At all. He also recently learned that they put an acid in chocolate, the very same acid that’s in vomit, to keep it from expiring in transport. And, ever since then, he’s pretty keen to keep American chocolate away from his general vicinity. But, ah, it’s Logan stabbing him, practically oozing angst, and that’s fucking wonderful.
That just seemed to make him angrier, though, because Logan retracts his blades and lets Wade drop against the floor like a ragdoll. He spins on his heel and runs a hand through his hair, “That’s not funny. Your heart fucking stopped. You fucking idiot. I should just gut you right now and be done with you.”
Wade flinches as his wound closes itself, shaking his head in disbelief, “So your solution was to stop it again? That was, like, the best thing you could come up with? Honestly, Wolvie, you know words like oneiromancy but you don’t know basic CPR? And yeah, honestly, you should just gut me, Wolvie, but we both know you won’t.”
“Don’t call me that, it’s demeaning. Don’t test me either, I can do it. I would. I’m the best there is at what I do…”
“But what you do isn’t very nice. Blah, blah, blah. I thought we already established that you’re the worst Wolverine,” Wade says in exasperation. He reaches out his hand, “Now are you gonna help me up or leave me to die in a heap on the floor? Your choice, Wolvie. Tick tock.”
Logan looks at Wade in genuine disbelief. His face is etched entirely with confusion, “How do you… How do you know my line? How do you even know how to stop your own fucking heart?”
“Military training… In the art of breaking the fourth wall?” Wade responds unconvincingly, ducking his head when Logan throws a brick at him in irritation. He narrowly, just by a hair’s breadth, avoided having his head crushed after having saved the world. The force is with him. Nah, that’s another IP entirely. Still Disney, though, still those ninety-fucking-years that he was offered. In all honesty, back then, those two months ago, he’d surprised himself at having turned down the offer. He’s glad he did though, otherwise he wouldn’t have met Logan. Or saved his universe, which, as big as an accomplishment as it is, pales in comparison somehow to meeting The Worst Wolverine.
The worst? What a joke. Sure, he’d been a raging alcoholic who totally abandoned his team and left them to brutally die at the hands of humanity. BUT! He, with literally zero obligation, had helped Wade save his home, and was even keen to sacrifice himself in the process. As much as it makes Wade jealous, Logan’s a real fucking hero and a genuinely standup guy. That much was obvious when he, despite his apparent unbridled hatred, leaned down and slung Wade over his shoulder like a sack of flour, exiting the room together. Together. Deadpool and Wolverine. What an awesome title. Sure to rake in millions at the global box office. Oh, yeah. Those custom popcorn buckets too? Talk about heaven.
“Why do you even care?” Wade asks.
“What absolute rubbish are you talking about now, Bub?”
“Like, why even do CPR. I finally shut up, didn’t I? Just like you’ve always wanted. You got your quiet, and then you revived me, probably, I don’t think I was ever really dead, and now I’m talking your ear off. Like you hate. Because you hate me and I never shut up, pal.”
Logan stops, frowning, “That’s not even a good impression of me,” He grunts, putting Wade back on the floor and walking off without him. Well that’s no fun, he wasn’t actually being serious. He doesn’t want to lose Logan. He doesn’t want Logan to hate him, even though it’s basically inevitable. He runs up the stairwell after Logan and throws the two of them against the wall. Thankfully it wasn’t one of those weird staircases that are just in the middle of the room. Still, he very quickly gets the feeling that Logan isn’t too happy about being attacked, against a wall or not. “Not exactly a smart idea, Bub, I’m not in the mood.”
“Well, you hate me, I want to know why you’d bother saving me,” Wade says nonchalantly, smirking, “Could it be that you actually, deep down, somewhere in that icy heart of yours, actually care about me?”
Logan snorts, flipping them so that Wade is the one pinned to the wall. It’s surprising that he didn’t do that in the first place. Not a problem, Wade just smiles devilishly and flips them again.
“Oh?” Wade grins, the most shit-eating grin in the history of grins. He glances down. Rule number one, when up particularly high, don’t look down. He does it anyway, and notices that they’re quite high up. The only thing stopping him from immediately plummeting to his death, if he should fall, was a study railing. But what if he were to just… jump over? Bye, bye, Wade. Splat. Bleh. Blood. Gore. Death. The very same death that he was promised- They were promised- and had somehow avoided. Like Final Destination.
There’s a flash of something, an emotion that Wade can’t quite place, in Logan’s eyes, and before Wade is even entirely over the rail, both of Logan’s hands are wrapped tightly around his. The other dangles somewhere awkwardly at his side, like dead weight. Logan tells him to grab on, with both hands, but Wade doesn’t and simply refuses instead. “Look at you, playing hero again. Just let me die, dude. Let me shut up for good.”
“Stop fucking around, Bub,” Logan shouts, his lips are pursed and his arms are practically bulging under Wade’s weight. Well, damn. That’s a delicious sight. “Grab on.”
“I’m not grabbing on until you admit that you care about me,” Wade insists, crossing his legs and literally sitting in the air with a pout on his face just to prove it. It was literally so fucking comical, he can’t wait to watch the replay. Logan’s stomach, from leaning so tautly over the rail, is beginning to slice open. Well, that’s sad. However, Wade still refuses to let himself be helped up. He wants that admission. He craves it.
Logan squints down at Wade, “Let’s spin this on you, then. Eh, Bub? I saw you on the camera, I’d just come back into the building from checking out the damage, slipped out before the British cunt saw me. Oh, but I saw you. Waking up alone. You were looking for me. You know you should’ve been happy to save the world, but you were too preoccupied looking for me. You grieved me. Then you passed out crying, little pathetic thing that you are. You care about me. You have from the start, and not just because you thought I could be your new anchor whatever-the-fuck-it-was.”
“What can I say?” Wade beams sarcastically, “I form bonds quickly. Loverpool was my nickname back in college, especially fond of lost causes like you.”
“You. Care. About. Me,” Logan snarls, grip tightening. If he weren’t so abnormally strong, Wade feels like his hands would’ve been shattered by now. It was hot. Painful, but so, so fucking hot. Suspended in the air, there’s not really much that Wade can do in response to that. Talking is always an option, though. The best option in his opinion. He just couldn’t really understand why Logan was so determined for the admission. It was riveting. He was so tantalising.
Wade shakes his head, determined to snap out of his incredibly gay thoughts as fast as humanly possible. Sparing one glance at Logan, though, how could that even be possible? Softly, Wade smiles at Logan, “I’ve never denied that,” He shrugs. A real, genuine smile. No grins. No smirks. Just… A smile. It’s at that craved admission, however, that something in Logan seems to snap perfectly into place.
Groaning in agony, Logan exhibits the last of his strength to hurl Wade over the railing and backwards into the wall with a resounding thud. He cracks his knuckles, looking stormily into the distance, “Yeah, well. Neither have I.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Nice wall you’re staring at there, Peanut,” Wade guffaws, pulling his mask over his face hurriedly. It’s absolutely, definitely, guaranteed to be, if the heat when he touched it was anything to go off of, bright red. As red as his suit. He’d be damned to let Logan notice that. His voice cracks awkwardly somewhere throughout the joke, and Wade realises that his blush isn’t the only giveaway. Talk about awkwardness. Thankfully, though, Logan doesn’t seem to pick up on it. If he does, he’s clearly content to just leave it alone.
Logan, with very obvious annoyance, motions with his head to the exit, “We’ve been down here long enough. Besides, I’ve overstayed my welcome, I think it’s time for me to leave. Off you pop and go fuck yourself, Bub.”
“Do it for me,” Wade mutters under his breath, sashaying past Logan and heading above ground. He didn’t hear, luckily. However, the walk up is still tediously quiet. Wade’s far too tired and horny to waste time cracking jokes, and so there’s nothing for Logan to miserably, much like an old man, complain about.
They arrive just as Mr Paradox is being arrested by the TVA. Good riddance, as far as Wade is concerned. Just another pompous, evil British dude getting paid far too much by Marvel for his less than twenty minutes of screen time. He wasn’t even a good villain, either. He was just there. And so was the guy from the office who was checking him out so intently. Wade waves at him enthusiastically and the guy just smiles awkwardly. He must be getting arrested too. Oh, well. At least he accomplished his wet dream of seeing two ridiculously jacked up guys, half naked, in skintight spandex suits and sexy masks before getting thrown in the slammer. Condolences to the wife though, for the torrid and sultry mental affair. And the jail time. Heavy on the former, though. Wade’s sure the poor woman will get over the sentencing easily enough. Maybe she’ll get to marry somebody respectable, this time, instead of serving as a beard for an evil office worker.
Wade could tell the news that the fate of Logan’s universe had long since been sealed was really taking its toll on him. His hands were violently shaking, in the same way Wade had noticed they tend to do when he wants to unsheath his claws, and it must’ve taken all of his strength to not lunge at the TVA lady and rip her apart. He was officially recognised as a hero, however, they both were, but it clearly meant a lot less to Logan than it did to Wade. The woman knew this and did nothing to fix it. She probably could’ve, she just didn’t. As mysteriously as she arrived, she left via portal and promised to restore everything to its natural order. Wade doubted he’d see her, or her prisoners, again. Probably for the better. Fuck the TVA, what good had they ever done? They weren’t even relevant before Phase Four.
“So, uh, you hungry?” Wade asks awkwardly, assuming that Logan could stay since he hadn’t been whisked away whimsically like everything else had. Would he even want to stay? He literally, not even five minutes ago, had declared that he overstayed his welcome and wanted to go home. Now he was here. Trapped. Offering hostages food was a good start, right?
Logan just sighs, “I could eat.”
“Shawarma? Oh, God. Fun fact. Did you know that The Avengers literally invented shawarma? Wade asks, though it’s more of a rhetoric because he’d already taken Logan by the hand and began to drag him to the nearest restaurant. Surprisingly, Logan doesn’t even fight to free his grip.
Instead, Logan looks at Wade and smirks, “Yeah. I’m not so sure that’s true. Besides, fuck The Avengers.”
“Fuck The Avengers,” Wade agrees. “But, like, I read it on Buzzfeed. You know Buzzfeed, right? With all the little quizzes and girly articles. They totally invented shawarma. Oh, by the way, do you have cash? My pockets were kind of, like, blown to smithereens and it’s not very heroic to barter for free food just because we saved the world.”
“Fuck. The Avengers. Let me check. Nah, no cash, but I’ve got my claws. Think that’s good enough? It’s not exactly heroic either, I’ll admit, but at least you won’t be shamelessly throwing the title around,” Logan chuckles. He brandishes the claws for effect and a civilian actively looks at him in confusion, mixed with a bit of fear and perhaps sexual tension. Oh, right. Yeah. Wade had forgotten. Their Wolverine was a pile of bones. Didn’t give her the right to gawk at his Wolverine though.
Attempting to remain as nice as possible in the face of such a thirsty vulture would be difficult but not impossible. Therefore, Wade suavely winks at the woman and tries as hard as he can to ignore the fact that he wants to introduce her stupid face to his katanas, “Cool cosplay, huh?”
“Oh, yes,” She stutters, face pink, “Cool cosplay. Indeed.”
Logan grips him firmly on the shoulder, “Cosplay, Bub?”
“Dead, remember, Bub?” Wade retorts. He exhales when Logan, not quite satisfied, but not really being able to fight back, removes his hand from Wade’s shoulder. Jesus, he was basically glistening in the sun. “Cover up those slutty, oily man-tits while you’re at it. I’m feeling rather jealous that everyone is staring at you.”
“Because they’re not staring at you, what a travesty,” Logan responds snarkily. Still, he complies and fastens the TVA jacket tighter around him. His muscles were still essentially bulging out, but at least he was covered now.
Wade snaps his fingers, “That’s exactly it. I’m so jealous that the stupid school girl wasn’t drooling over my rock hard abs. Now, stay on this bench and sit pretty for me like a good boy while I go and, nonviolently, grab us both some delicious shawarma. How would you like that? Aw, who’s a good little Wolvie?”
Logan doesn’t comment on being told to sit pretty, nor does he comment on being called a good boy, and he does sit on the bench without any fight, which was basically the first hundred or so signs that something was wrong. Wade is genuinely concerned when all the man does is sigh and brush him off, smiling half heartedly and making a cheesy, poorly rehearsed remark about being starving when Wade doesn’t budge. “Are you getting us your precious Avengers shawarma or not, Bub? Because, really, I’ve got better places to be.”
“Like where? This isn’t even your universe, Peanut.”
“And whose fault is that, Bub?” Logan barks. He does, to his credit, look instantly remorseful and apologises profusely, but Wade isn’t having it. He just walks off, all too calmly, into the restaurant and emerges with two piping hot shawarmas. He offers it to Logan and the man takes it, perhaps too quickly, and begins, no pun intended, wolfing it down.
Wade sits at the opposite end of the bench, sighing, “I really am sorry, you know? I was being selfish. You have every right to be angry at me.”
“No I don’t,” Logan sneers, mouth still full of food, “I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at myself. This wouldn’t have even happened if I was just stronger. None of this would’ve happened if I was just better in every single timeline. I wouldn’t have met you. Wouldn’t have saved the world. I would’ve just been Wolverine, a member of the X-Men. I could live with that.”
Sadly, Wade is inclined to agree, “It would’ve been better that way, you not meeting me. Me not meeting you. I should’ve just kept selling stupid cars, at least I’m good at it. I was right about the odyssey, wasn’t I? Back in The Void. Said it was shit. It was shit.”
“Meeting you was…” Logan begins. And Wade can think of a hundred ways to fill in the blanks. A mistake. The worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Disturbing. Awful. Annoying. Irritating. He throws the wrapper of his shawarma somewhere to the side of the camera and shrugs, “Meeting you was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, Bub.”
Wade, although taken aback, smiles. His heart skips a beat in his chest and he’s just, genuinely, over the moon. Logan was special. He had such an effect on Wade and he didn’t even know it. How could a man that thinks he’s all bad come out so effortlessly with the most heartwarming thing? Wade gulps, “Yeah, you too, Peanut,” He affirms breathlessly, taking one last bite of his shawarma before throwing it in the trash.
“Wanna head back to my place?” Wade asks.
“I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Logan smirks.
Grinning, Wade shakes his head, “Actually, I remember you saying that you had better places to be.”
“Well, I figure your place is a good start.”
“You know I have a roommate, right?”
Logan bursts out laughing, “Yeah, the blind lady who can see cocaine. I know, Bub. I’ll be nice to her, don’t you worry your head.”
“Just checking,” Wade says, face red, “Just checking.”
P.S. Was he just imagining the sexual tension? Also Logan actually paid attention to him way back then? That’s a shock. All Wade can really remember from before he almost died was their incredibly heated, unapologetically aggressive fight in the car that left him bound and gagged like a prize. It was hot. Really hot. Remembering it in such graphic detail is actually making him feel a few things again. Luckily it’s not so noticeable. Not like Logan would actually look down there, but it’s well concealed in the unlikely event that he did. He’s just glad that it goes down before he gets home.
He knocks on the door and Blind Al opens it almost instantly, as if she sensed he was there. She stares directly at Logan and grins, welcoming both of them inside warmly. Wade attempts to escort Logan to his room, though not before he’s swept into a bone crushing hug by Vanessa. He pats her awkwardly on the back, spares one glance at Logan who seems mildly infuriated, and pushes her away gently. She looked at him with puffy eyes, crying about how much she missed him, and was just so worried when he vanished without a trace. He wants to ask her where all this worry was when he was in a slump, but knows that isn’t really fair. Instead he takes Logan by the hand and ducks into his room, smiling awkwardly at the two women, “Sorry, can we just have a minute. Yeah, thanks.”
The door is barely shut before Logan bursts out laughing, mocking Vanessa. Wade wants to tell him to shut up, but resolves to sit in silence as he feels stuck somewhere between a rock and a hard place. Logan goes on and on about the waterworks and how fake she seemed, meanwhile Wade peels his tarnished suit off and throws it in a heap on the ground. He sits in his boxers on his bed, sighing, and it’s only when he tells Logan to shut the fuck up that the Wolverine finally stops insulting Vanessa. How the tables had turned. If Wade didn’t know any better, he’d say Logan was jealous. Now really wasn’t the time though. He just wanted a peaceful moment. Vanessa throwing herself at him and Logan bullying her wasn’t really his idea of that.
Logan clears his throat, looking away, “Gonna get changed, Bub? Don’t you feel awkward sitting there like that?”
“I’m thinking,” Wade grumbles.
“That makes a change.”
Wade folds his arms and doesn’t even dignify looking at Logan, “Strip. I don’t want my room smelling like smoke, so strip and put what’s left of your suit outside the door. I’ll see what I can salvage.”
“No need, Bub,” Logan shrugs, not even phased at the request as he begins to strip, “I’m retiring. My past is what makes me the anchor needed to save your universe. I can live with that, but I’d rather not associate with my former self beyond that. Got a trash can to throw this into?”
Wade forces himself to look away, his ex-girlfriend and his roommate are both in the other room, he can’t afford to jump Logan right now. Still. The man was a package. He wants to stare at Logan forever. The best team up of all time. Would the same translate to the bedroom? “Yeah, it’s just outside. Should probably get dressed first though. Top drawer, something should fit you there.”
“You too,” Logan says, beginning to rummage through the drawer for something that looks even vaguely appealing. He settles on a plain blue shirt, but Wade reckons he’d look good in anything.
Wade stares at him intently, hungrily, like a lion starved for weeks. What’s more? Logan seems to be relishing in it. “Just throw me something. They're all mine. Must’ve liked 'em at one point or another,” Wade mutters, and Logan throws him a shirt as fast as clockwork. Now, that was alarming. He’d spoken much louder, in much closer proximity on the stairwell earlier. Go fuck yourself, Bub. Do it for me. Oh, yeah. No. That wasn’t good. Logan hadn’t explicitly mentioned it, though, had he? He was the type of cynical guy who’d tease Wade over that. So maybe he really didn’t hear. Maybe his ears were just faulty. Worked half the time, didn’t the other. Old age, am I right?
Wade pulls the shirt over his head and tugs on a pair of sweatpants that he’d discarded on the floor sometime before he was abducted. “Pants in the second drawer down, feel free. Kitchen’s all yours, help yourself. Be nice to Blind Al. I’m gonna go…”
“Talk to your girlfriend,” Logan fills in bitterly, “Go on then.”
“Right… I’ll try and find Dogpool while I’m out. Maybe he didn’t get sent back. Might’ve got lucky or something,” Wade says. Logan glares at him coldly and it feels scarily like they’re back to square one. Nevermind the fact that they just stripped in front of each other. Wade slams the door, perhaps too harshly, on his way out.
Vanessa is sitting on the sofa, eating a cookie, and lights up considerably when she sees Wade waiting for her. She kisses Blind Al on the cheek and thanks her for her hospitality before following a wordless Wade out of the door. Wade asks Al to check on Logan, if he’s not back soon, and she promises that she will. He smiles at that, truly uncertain whether she sees it or not, but she does smile back.
“Logan. What, like Wolverine?” Vanessa asks excitedly. He confirms that, yes, it’s Wolverine, just not from this timeline, and she looks genuinely surprised. Her voice is flat and firm, and she drops the niceties when she asks, “So, you’ve just been on an adventure this whole time, huh? You didn’t think to tell us? We were all worried sick. I had to move in with Al temporarily just so she could get by. Do you have any idea how much you’ve disrupted all of our lives?”
“I don’t need to be scolded, Vanessa,” Wade sighs.
She rolls her eyes, “But you do! You dropped off the face of the Earth without so much as a call. And now you’re back, claiming to have saved the world, with a shiny new Wolverine. As if. I’m sorry but is this all a joke to you, Wade? Because if so, it’s not very funny.”
Wade glares at her, “No, it’s not a joke, Vanessa, I wasn’t even on Earth! I was in this weird, fucked up place called The Void, stranded, with no food or shelter, at the mercy of some psychotic woman and her entourage of fucking psychos! I watched Chris Evans fucking die there, Vanessa! Then I met Channing-Fucking-Tatum and he blew people up with fucking magic tricks! And, for the record, Logan is Wolverine. You want the claws to prove it? Because, honestly, if he heard you right now, he’d use them. He’s not the friendliest of guys.”
“You’re suddenly best friends? You’ve known him, like, a month! What about your actual friends, Wade. What about us?” She scoffs, shaking her head, “I can’t even fucking believe it.”
Wade would be pulling out his hair by now, if he had any, “Well you better believe it, because it’s our reality now! He is, albeit retired, Wolverine, and he’s the reason our world hasn’t fucking imploded. So show him a bit of respect, Vanessa. Because, yes, we are best friends. And he’s been through enough, he doesn’t need his identity questioned by you!”
“Oh, you are best friends? Because you sure seemed hesitant to say it. What would Logan think, anyway, when he heard you refer to him as ‘not the friendliest of guys’ whilst threatening to use his mutation as a fucking crowd control weapon?” Vanessa questions. She's annoyingly got a point and now he just seems like a jerk. Logan, as much as he clearly dislikes Vanessa, isn’t the type of guy to hurt her just because she spoke a bit of shit. Maybe he’d do it to Wade, but not to somebody who didn’t stand a chance of fighting back. Wade’s certain of that, he knows Logan. He facepalms, shaking his head.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m just stressed.”
She reaches out and grabs his forearm, eyes glossed with tears, “Me too! My fucking ex-boyfriend dropped off the face of the Earth and came waltzing back in like nothing ever happened.”
“Yeah, ex-boyfriend. Vanessa, you moved on. Okay? I waited and waited for you to come back, and you didn’t, you moved on. Now, so have I,” Wade whispers, he forces himself free of her grip, “I thought that I wanted you back, Vanessa. I thought that you were the only thing I needed to keep me going. To get me through life. Vanessa, I’ve moved on. You can’t come back now, it’s not fair. I loved you, I truly did. You were a wonderful experience for me…”
“You were everything!” She cries, wiping her tears with her sleeve, “You were everything to me, Wade. You think you’re the only one who waited? I waited and waited and waited for you to come back to your senses, to be the man I loved again, but you lost your spirit and you lost me too. Maybe I’m selfish for leaving you at your lowest, but you were even more selfish for keeping me hanging by a thread. Not once, once, did any of your actions give me a smidge of closure. They just made me want you more and more. Now you’re back and I don’t get that? I don’t get reconciliation?”
He shakes his head, “No. I’m sorry. I was going to ask you out again, at the party, but I’m really glad that I never had that chance. I don’t think we’re healthy for each other.”
“No, you’re right. Don’t apologise,” Vanessa shrugs, sniffing into a tissue that she’d conjured from fuck knows where. “Honestly, I’m glad that you never got that chance either. I would’ve said no back then. I guess you just don’t know how much you really love somebody until you think they’re gone.”
Wade thinks of that room, thinks of the matter burning his hand as Logan banged furiously on the door, remembers how sore his legs were as he kicked off the ground with all his might to try and reach the other side, remembers their hands connecting, and the explosion. He remembers waking up that first time and thinking Logan was gone. Then waking up that second time and rejoicing that he never really left. Wade purses his lips in thought, “Yeah. I guess you don’t.”
“You and your Wolverine, huh?” Vanessa guesses. She’d always been ridiculously intelligent. It was actually really, really annoying. Other than the tears, and the fact he could almost hear her heart shattering, he had to admit that she was taking all of this very well.
He chuckles, shaking his head, “Nah. Probably just me.”
“I don’t think so,” She shrugs. When he looks at her in confusion, she can’t help but smile, “I overheard him mocking me, I think the whole complex did. Sounded really jealous, like a kid. He’s not the most emotionally mature Wolverine out there, is he? Besides, if that wasn’t so obvious then the way he looks at you would’ve been a dead giveaway. It’s the same way that I do.”
“He’s not the most emotionally mature Wolverine out there, no,” Wade grins. Then he thinks of the Nicepool who he had used as a human shield, purely out of jealousy so that he could have the guns and his dog. He thinks of all his raunchy humour. He thinks of his weird tendency to talk to an invisible audience. “But I’m not the most emotionally mature Deadpool out there, either.”
Vanessa raises an invisible toast, laughing in spite of herself, “A real match made in heaven.”
“You think?”
“No, more like hell.”
Wade chuckles again, waving at her, “I’ll head back now, then. I’ll uh, see you around sometime? Maybe. If you’re not vehemently opposed to that.”
“Sure, you’re a great friend, Wade. Go knock it out of the park,” Vanessa agrees, smiling softly. She watches him go, fiddling with the hem of her skirt, and can’t help but wonder where they went wrong. She’ll figure it out at some point, probably, but she doesn’t want to dwell on her feelings for any longer today.
Barrelling through the apartment door, Wade doesn’t even bother to answer Blind Al’s questions, he’ll fill her in later. For now he has to see Logan. But, uh, he’s gone. Blind Al hobbles to his doorway and offers him a bright pink sticky note, “We were watching the TV and he just took off running. I didn’t dare try to stop him, I assumed you’d see him on his way out. Left you a note. Didn’t read it. Can’t read it.”
“What? Is this a joke?” Wade asks, turning the sticky note at all possible angles and even flipping it a couple of times. All it read was: Woof. Now, either, he’d drastically misspelt Wade, had been turned into a dog, or decided his final note to Wade would be a terrible joke. Each option seemed as unpromising as the next. Wade sighed, thanking Blind Al and telling her that he’d retire for the night. He was really tired, after all, saving the world was this… huge thing.
Six hours passed and it was now two in the morning. It was official. At the first opportunity, Logan had dipped. Wade had waited with hope for the first hour, but that hope had quickly diminished as the day grew longer, and the sky went dark. Now he was sitting, in a pile of blankets, listening, yet again, to Taylor Swift and quietly singing along so as to not wake Al. There was a bucket of popcorn at his side and many tubs of ice cream discarded on various surfaces around the room. He’s got gossip girls on the laptop in front of him, god love Blake Lively, and he’s fucking doomscrolling on his phone. In all of his excitement to profess his undying love for Logan, he’d totally forgotten to look for Dogpool. That little guy would’ve made this heartbreak, just minimally, better. Does he even have a right to heartbreak? Nah, probably not. But, he is anyway. He’s totally and utterly heartbroken.
He’s just about to finally head off to sleep when he hears a knock on the door. It’s storming outside, and he has to genuinely sit and listen in complete silence to even notice the knocking. It’s insane just how fast he hurries out of bed to open the door. There’s Logan, with Dogpool in one arm and Laura Kinney under the other. All three of them look exhausted, and Dogpool’s tongue looks like it’s about to drop out of his mouth, so the only logical thing to do is invite them in. He excuses himself for a minute to tidy up his room as quickly as possible and offers for Laura and Dogpool to head in and sleep. The girl takes the dog from Logan’s arm, yawns, and Wade sees her practically face plant on the bed before the door slams shut. “Woof?” Wade deadpans, lips forming a narrow line.
“Why are you barking at me?” Logan asks huskily. He’s, very clearly, exhausted. For one, he’s dripping wet and shivering. Two, he’s got dark circles under his eyes. Three, his knees are literally buckling under his weight. Wade, perhaps a little invasively, pushes him onto the sofa and hurries to grab a spare blanket from the cupboard. He’d undress him too, to lower the risk of a cold, but feels that’s probably way too invasive. He hates how worried he must look. But, honestly, Logan never, not in his eyes, looked so weak, even after surviving one of the biggest explosions Wade had ever seen.
Wade sits on the armchair. Typically, it’s Al’s property but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. It’s ridiculously comfortable, though, and he makes a mental note to sit in it more often while she’s otherwise preoccupied. “Your note, remember? Woof. That’s all it said,” Wade responds, eyebrow raised, “I thought you’d been turned into a dog or something, dude, not cool.”
By which he means, ‘I thought you had left me forever.’
Picking at his teeth, Logan smirks, “I was watching the news with Al. Saw a dog wandering around in the back, a little scruffy thing. Thought it could’ve been the one you love so much. By the time I got there, it had been impounded, so I had to fight to get it out. Wasn’t pretty, got shot. But, they were gonna kill it, couldn’t let that happen, not when it’s so important to you. Would’ve been back hours ago, but I found the kid along the way. So, I got us a kid and a dog, you’re welcome. We got cheeseburgers on the way back. Had one for you, but the dog got hungry and refused to calm down until I gave it to him.”
“Nice to know I place lower than Dogpool on the food chain,” Wade chuckles weakly. Now that Logan was here again, for the umpteenth time after having vanished, things were considerably more difficult. It wasn’t as easy to be like, ‘Oh, hey, by the way, dude, kind of developed a massive crush on you,’ as Wade thought it would be.
Logan slouches on the couch and folds his arms, cocking his head to the side, “What’s on your mind, Bub? Trouble in paradise with the missus?”
“Not exactly. It’s, uh, you,” Wade answers earnestly, which makes Logan cough in surprise. The man looks him up and down, eyebrow raised, very obviously biting back a laugh. Well, that’s typical Logan behaviour, Wade had become accustomed to that. However, what he hadn’t become accustomed to was a faint blush on the man’s face, or the way his eyes almost seemed to sparkle at that revelation, or even the bob of his throat as he struggled to process the information he’d just received.
“What of Vanessa?” Logan asks sternly.
Wade shrugs, “What of her? Better as friends.”
Narrowing his eyes, Logan scoffs, “Wouldn’t have thought so from the way she was hanging off you earlier, if I’m honest, Bub.”
“She was just glad to see me.”
“So was I, after the explosion, but I have the decency to exercise a bit of discipline,” Logan hisses. He looks outright embarrassed afterwards and shakes his head, gazing somewhere off to the side.
Wade’s lip quirks, “Well, you are The Wolverine. She’s just Vanessa. Anyway, you got us a kid and a dog? What are we, a little family?”
“Could be,” Logan declares evenly, not even seeming to acknowledge the weight of those words, “I’ve got nothing else going on. I don’t even have a house. Assuming you’ve not got chicks lined up to date you, which I severely doubt considering the state of you, I’d suspect you’ve not got much else going on either.”
“So your solution is to have us play as a family? Just… Pretend? There’s no point if it isn’t real, Logan, I’m not that type of guy,” Wade says dismissively. Logan glances at him, then away again, and Wade can almost swear that his blush deepened a shade or two. That was an exhilarating sight. It made Wade want to tease him further, to see just how flustered The Wolverine can get. He won’t, obviously. Common courtesy. Wade wouldn’t like to be mocked like that, probably, unless it was in a strictly sexual context, and he imagines Logan would enjoy it even less. Instead he rolls his eyes and makes a joke, like always, “I’ll have them every other week, yeah, Peanut?”
Logan, still incredibly embarrassed, resembling more of a tomato than the man who just saved the world, dives out of his seat and straddles Wade, “Am I really fucking doing this? Whatever. God, you’re so fucking confusing, Wade. Who said anything about this being fake.”
“Uh, you, because this is, literally, super ridiculous,” Wade chimes, he’s very conscious of the man on his lap, and he doesn’t really want to push him off either, “Come on, Wolvie, we can’t go wrecking my apartment. Let’s get some sleep and save the fight for the morning. Okie Dokie? I know a great place.”
“I heard you outside, Bub,” Logan states. He leans in closer, vaguely reminiscent of all the other times he’s pinned Wade to some variation of a surface. Except, this time, it’s in, what is hopefully, a purely debauched context. His breath fans against Wade’s face, and he smirks. Like, genuinely smirks. The innocent schoolboy act is long gone, had hardly ever been there, and now he’s back to just being typical Logan. “You and your Wolverine, huh? A match made in heaven. Or, wait, was it hell. You blew things off with Vanessa for me, didn’t you?”
It’s Wade’s turn to blush, and he turns to the side so as to avoid making eye contact, “That’s a little presumptuous of you, isn’t it, Wolvie? I mean…” But there was nothing left to say. Logan truly had overheard them, and he’d been sitting on it for hours now, musing about it, planning this total humiliation, while Wade was practically dying inside. He’d have liked this side of Logan to appear at literally any other time. This!!! Was!!! Not!!! The!!! Time!!! Fuck you, writer.
“Say the word and I’m yours Wade, and this little family is ours,” Logan growls, not as angrily this time, and a whole lot sexier, “If not. I’m hunting down those TVA assholes and getting out of here, even if it’s the last thing I do,” It’s absolutely an empty threat, but it’s still massively hot. Like, overwhelmingly hot. Marvel Jesus can’t fucking handle it!!! The ultimatum? Jaw on the floor, take me I’m yours. SO HOT. Either Wade is the luckiest man alive or he’s dreaming, he hopes to fuck that it’s the first one.
Wade gulps, “Don’t I get a little time to choose first?”
“If you’re okay with having my claws inside your abdomen for that time, then sure, I’ll allow it. Otherwise, no, fuck off and get on with it, Bub.”
“Aren’t you a charmer,” Wade quips.
Logan smirks, “Well, somehow you fell ass over tits in love with me. So, I suppose I must be,” Then his arrogant smile falters and he shrugs, “You’re different, Wade. You’re different from anyone I’ve ever met, you’re the first person who made me feel… Feel. You’re the only person in my life who I’ve ever had a real, genuine, visceral fear of losing. Not on a physical level, or anything, because you’re so strong. There are other people I’ve cared for, too, of course, because I let them be slaughtered…”
“Hey, that’s not true.”
“I’d still be a drunken mess without you, Bub. I’m not… God, even Vanessa knows… That I’m not the most emotionally intelligent creature on Earth. But, uh, the way I felt when I thought I was losing you, that I had lost you. Back in that room, when I hardly even knew you. It was different than it was back then, when the X-Men died. I grieved, of course, but… That’s nothing compared to how I would’ve felt if I lost you.”
Wade breathes, “So… So what? You want to be with me because you would’ve been sad if I died? That’s not love, Logan. That’s compassion, that’s human. But it’s not exactly the strongest foundation for a solid relationship. It’s certainly not grounds to start a family.”
“No, you idiot,” Logan spits, pushing off of Wade and running a hand through his hair in anticipation, “I would’ve been destroyed if I lost you. I will be if I lose you now. I haven’t felt this way… Ever… Before. I thought I was incapable of it. But, fuck, listening to you talking to Vanessa, hugging her, touching her. The thought of that kills me more than any explosion ever could. I couldn’t live with that, Wade.”
“So you’re, what, possessive, like…”
Logan glares at him, “Don’t say like a dog.”
Wade throws his hands up defensively, “Wasn’t going to.”
Ashamed, Logan sits back on the sofa and begins studying the less than intricate pattern of the floorboard, “I can’t even believe that I’m actually acting like this. For you- The most annoying fucking fuck in the universe. I’m in love with you, Wade. I’ve never really been in love before, not really, not non contractually, and I don’t know if I’m entirely correct in my judgement, but this feels a lot like those shitty movies you keep referencing. You’re perfect, Wade, in spite of all your flaws. So, yeah, I’m serious about this whole family thing.”
Not garnering a response, Logan quickly adds, “What have I got to lose, Bub? What have we got to lose that we damn near didn’t already?”
Wade actually had been in love before, albeit not with so much rushing. He and Vanessa had actually been on dates, at least five, before dating to even mention the fabled ‘L’ word. Was traipsing through The Void considered a date? If so, that’s the one and only. Unless you count saving the world. Then that’s two, but both had almost died. So… Wade absolutely had more experience with this than Logan did, he knew love. It was an old friend. The only thing is, this felt nothing like it. Not the type that he was used to, anyway.
Vanessa was soft and sweet and confident and calm, Logan wasn’t shaping up to be any of those things. He’d had the confidence thing nailed, but it was pretty much just an act. If they did form a relationship, Logan would absolutely not be confident in it. He had all the romantic experiences of a mormon. But. Well, the way he felt. It was absolutely love. Just… A confusing sort. One he distinctly wasn’t aware of until his literal ex-girlfriend talked some sense into him. Love at first sight? Absolutely not. Love at first fight? That could be a thing, Wade would dig it. How unapologetically hot. To fall in love while he’s being stabbed? That’s something Wade could be into. To fall in love while stabbing somebody else? That’s something Logan could be into. Oh, yes, for sure. This was love. And, despite all their bravado and fighting, it surprisingly wasn’t toxic. It was purely wonderful, and so, so vulnerable in the most poetic sense.
Logan is noticeably agitated. It’s adorable, really. Always has been, now that Wade thinks about it, if not a little painful. Wade clears his throat, grinning, “I’m in love with you, too, Peanut. But let’s not rush things, yeah? I mean, we need to go on a date first.”
“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage,” Logan scoffs, very obviously unsure how to digest all of… This. That uncharacteristic blush is back, and so is the adorable little twinkle in his eyes. Wade needs a picture, he needs a picture now, but his phone is still in his room, playing Taylor Swift on the lowest possible volume. Damn it. Maybe another time. Besides, there will be loads of adorable snapshots on the blooper reel, right?
Wade laughs, “Wouldn’t that be a treat, Wolvie? Me, Mrs Deadpool Wolverine. Could you imagine? I bet you can. I bet you want that, don’t you, baby? Aw, well. Too bad. That’s a thought for a few years from now.”
Standing slowly, moving towards Logan and grinning, Wade laughs, “I meant, from the way you straddled me, it’s very obvious that you want to fuck. Am I just that irresistible to you, Peanut? Do you want the mask on or off when you fuck me? As for me, I think I’d prefer it on. Getting fucked by The Best Wolverine would be an interesting first time as a couple, wouldn’t it? How’d you want me, baby? Just say the word and promise you’ll be gentle.”
“Fuck off, Bub,” Logan groans. He can’t help but smile, “The mask’s being burned and yours is out of commission for the foreseeable future. Let’s have our first time as us, yeah?”
“Well, I don’t know, I kind of like the idea of the claws.”
Logan considers that and winks, pulling Wade to straddle him, “That can be arranged, I’m sure. It’s a bit too late to fight, though, isn’t it? How about you show me that great place tomorrow and we can arrange it? For now, I just want to sleep. Be nice to do it on a comfortable fucking surface for once, as opposed to the shit they had in The Void.”
“We’re gonna need a bigger place,” Wade sighs, thinking of his bed, and remembering rather miserably that it’s now occupied for the time being.
“Yeah, maybe. Assuming I actually make things work this time. Just for the record, though, I ain’t taking your last name if we ever get married,” Logan murmurs. “It’s awful. Fuckin’ Wilson. Sounds like an English Teacher.”
Wade rolls his eyes, “We’re not even official.”
“Oh, my apologies. Bub, be my boyfriend.”
“That’s the best I’m going to get from you, isn’t it?”
Logan nods, lip wobbling as he fights off a smile, “Yeah, might be. Fifty fifty. You gonna take it, Bub?”
“I’ll take it,” Wade says, fighting back a yelp as Logan kisses him passionately. Unapologetically aggressive. Just like all of their fights before, and all the ones to come. Oh, yeah, Wade could get used to this.