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The party’s in full swing by the time the happy couple arrive.
The happy couple being a very excited Wade and Logan, who thinks his borrowed suit might be too tight around the thighs. Wade’s practically bouncing off the walls, clapping his hands, jumping up and down. Logan has to remind him that they’re here for work, and grabs his arm to keep him on the ground. Wade slips his arm into Logan’s, playing the part of husband perfectly.
The house was magnificent – more a mansion, really – and Logan’s reminded of how impressive Xavier’s school looked from the outside. The house has it’s own roundabout for fucks sake. A large gravel driveway leads up to the building, where gorgeous sandstone steps climb to the giant front door. Ivy decorates the walls, creeping over the windows, and there’s so much garden Logan briefly considers quitting the Avengers to be a gardener. He’d get paid more, and probably shot less.
And absolutely fucking everywhere, there’s people.
As they walk up the driveway, gravel crunching beneath their feet, Logan goes over the mission in his head. Some rich asshole was trying to take over New York – no surprise there. Goes by the name Wilson Fisk, but Wade wouldn’t stop giggling, calling him Wilson Fist, claiming it was a move he pulled out for special occasions in the bedroom. Logan doesn’t doubt him. There’s a USB somewhere in this house with a list of Fisk’s contacts, and the Avenger’s believe having it would bring them closer to tearing him down. How they were going to get it with so many armed guards and civilians dotted around the place, Logan had no idea, but he was sure any plans they made would just go to shit anyway.
When Wade had suggested they pretend to be married, Logan had laughed in his face.
The location was far away enough that nobody would recognise Logan as The Wolverine, and without his suit, people weren’t looking close enough at Wade to figure out who he was. They could go as individuals, but it laid more suspicion on them. So, marriage. It got them through the door, and nobody would suspect the freshly honeymooned pair who was a friend of a friend of a friend of the owners would actually be trying to rob the place.
Wade shifts his arm in Logan’s, and Logan’s once again reminded how fucking weird it is to see him in a suit. A real suit – a black tux with a midnight tie. They were wearing matching cufflinks, Wade’s choice, and they hung heavy from his wrists. It felt odd, touching him so affectionately. Not bad, just unfamiliar, and Logan found he didn’t mind the weight of him. The golden band on his finger didn’t look half-bad.
“My underwear’s so far up my ass I can taste cotton,” Wade says gleefully, and Logan nudges him with his elbow.
“Don’t say shit like that here.”
“Oh yes.” Wade clears his throat, and when he speaks next it’s in a terribly posh British accent. “We must speak of only golf and caviar. How was the trip to Epstein’s island in your helicopter?”
Logan rolls his eyes, but he does it smiling. “Knock it off.”
“I’m twenty-seven years old, I’ve no money and no prospects. I’m frightened, Lizzy.”
A lady in a dark emerald dress walking arm in arm with a man up ahead of them throws Wade a curious glance.
“Cut it out, or lower your voice,” Logan tells Wade sternly.
“Do you think I can find a rich husband here? I’d take a sugar-mama too; keep an eye out.” Wade at least has the awareness to talk quieter.
“Divorcing already, are we?” Logan mutters.
“We were never going to last. You’re terrible in bed, and I’m cheating on you with our accountant. His name’s Eduardo, and he’s a sensual lover.”
Logan smirks, amused. He’d grown used to Wade’s jokes with all the time they spent together – at work, at home. It was easy to play along, get wrapped up in his world. It was easy to get sucked into his orbit.
If his heart beat a little faster these days when he was near, he couldn’t be blamed. Being surrounded by Wade’s family, all that love, had made him soft and at some point he had realised that he was disgustingly soft for Wade Wilson. Wade was disarming, and you found yourself caring for him before you’d realised it was possible. And God did Logan care for him.
When Wade had suggested they pretend to be married, Logan had laughed in his face, and wanted it with all his heart.
“How will we tell the kids?” Logan asks.
Wade sighs happily. “By subtlety implying it was all their fault. This is good backstory stuff, I hope you’re remembering all this.”
“We’re not announcing to the room that we’re getting divorced.”
“Too soon?” Wade asks, and wiggles his eyebrows at someone Logan can’t see.
They get through the front door no problem – Banner’s fake ID’s work a treat – and then Mr and Mr Jackman are in.
(Wade insisted. Logan didn’t get it.)
They mingle for a while. There’s a grand staircase leading to higher floors, but it’s too exposed. Logan suspects there’ll be servant hallways hidden about the place, and tells Wade that if they can find one of those it’s a good bet. A chandelier bigger than Colossal’s head hangs from the ceiling, Logan has no clue how it stays up there, and the floors are so shiny it’s like looking in a mirror. There’s a library, a ballroom, a dining room, at least three studies and that was only part of the ground floor. How they were going to find a single USB stick half the size of Logan’s nutsack he had no fucking idea, but first they had to avoid detection, and that might prove more difficult because Wade was not made for high society.
He cuts into conversations, eats so many Hors d’Oeuvres Logan thinks he might be sick, actually laughs when he sees a little bowl of caviar with a little spoon to serve with. He slurps the tiny balls off the spoon before putting the spoon back, and Logan’s going to pop a fucking aneurysm. When Wade goes for his fifth glass of champagne Logan grabs his hand and forcefully loops their arms together, offering a strained smile to the waiter.
And Wade keeps talking to people.
He nods along to conversations he is absolutely not following. He offers views on topics he has no knowledge of. He talks to his dumbass invisible audience in front of people who weren’t climatised to his shit. He tells a poor blind man that the cure for blindness was hidden beneath his floorboards and Logan isn’t going to survive this mission because he’s going to snap off a piece of the ice sculpture in the dining room and pierce it through his throat.
“Are you enjoying yourself, pumpkin-pie?” Wade asks sweetly, loudly, and Logan smiles warmly and whispers under his breath that he was going to pull Wade’s spine out of his asshole.
“Not in front of the royal family,” Wade gasps, mock offended, and Logan squeezes his hand tightly while he smiles with all his teeth.
Wade tells five different groups five different stories about how he scarred his skin.
“They tried to make a second Steve Rogers and really fucked it.”
“I used to be a superhero, but I fell into my arch nemesis’s vat of acid.”
“I used to be a super villain but I fell into my own vat of acid.”
“We tried to introduce fire in the bedroom and it did not go down well.”
With the fifth group, a sweet lady kindly asks if Wade would mind talking about what happened to him. Wade frowns, and smiles, and innocently says, what do you mean? And when the woman stutters awkwardly, Wade looks down at his hands and his eyes widen in horror.
“Holy fuck. What the fuck, oh my g –“
Logan has to drag him away, laughing his ass off. They avoid that group for the rest of the night, sneaking around them like the spies that they were.
They find a quiet corner, grab two glasses of champagne, and Logan leans back against the wall where he can just see down a small hallway, keeping an eye out for any wait staff who might disappear through a hidden panel in the wall. That seemed like something that might happen here.
Wade’s watching the room too, sipping his drink, judging people.
“I mean those shoes with that dress, she might as well paint whore on her forehead.”
“You having fun, bub?” Logan asks him.
Wade sighs dreamily. “It’s like playing Bridgerton. Oh I hope I’m crowned the diamond. I’d smoke all these bitches in a dress.”
Logan huffs. “Believe that when I see it.”
“Then I’ll have to show you sometime.”
The image of Wade in a dress springs to the front of his mind and Logan downs his champagne like a shot to wet his dry throat.
“Why husbands?” He asks, hoping it comes out casual. “Why not brothers, or something?”
Wade gives him an odd look. “Do we look related?”
Logan returns it. “Nobody’d question it.”
“Because I look like the makeup department’s bad attempt at a burn victim.”
“No.”
“Seriously. Ryan Reynolds is hot. And they made a trilogy out of this,” Wade points to his own face.
Logan slaps his hand away. “You look fine.”
“You’re just saying that so I’ll finally agree to consummate our marriage.”
“Are our kids adopted?”
“Oh, an mpreg joke. I told you – I’m cheating on you with Eduardo. He glowed in pregnancy.”
Logan pulls a face.
“Get with the times, gramps,” Wade teases, “people have already written fanfiction like that about us.”
Opening his mouth to ask how Wade knew that, Logan’s eyes catch on a waiter as he presses his hand to a panel in the hallway and slips up a staircase that’s revealed behind it.
Logan pushes off from the wall. “Come on.”
“We’re so coming back to this later,” Wade whispers as he trails behind him.
They take a casual walk across the floor, stopping right beside the panel to once again lean against the wall and chat. It’s a fake conversation, full of smiles as they both check they can slip away unseen. The hallway is thin, Logan thinks he can smell something cooking, so it must lead to a kitchen he doubts the owners of the house know they have. They’re partially obscured here, and nobody who wasn’t watching them directly notices when Logan leans his elbow back onto the panel, and they disappear up the staircase quickly.
It leads them to another fake panel in the wall, which they exit out onto the first floor. There’s not a body up here, and the thrum of the party had dulled to a low buzz beneath their feet.
The problem now, was the amount of doors in this one hallway.
“How the fuck do we find this thing?” Wade asks, voicing Logan’s earlier thought.
Logan crosses to a door and quietly presses the handle down.
The door clicks open without complaint, leading to an averagely decorated bedroom. He closes it softly, and thinks.
“This list’s important,” he says quietly. “They won’t just leave it for a lost guest to stumble upon.”
Wade, who is smarter than his enemies give him credit for, tries the next door. It too opens easily. He looks back to Logan with understanding etched into his face.
“So we find a locked door,” he says, and Logan is severely down bad for this display of intelligence.
They try all the doors in the hallway, but this must be a guest wing, for there’s nothing but bedrooms and bathrooms to disappoint them. On their seventh bedroom Wade groans, and suggests they give up and put one of these beds to good use. Logan blushes fiercely and tells him to keep looking.
They move onto the next, but that too brings nothing but open doors and stale sheets.
In the third hallway, a guard is on patrol.
On patrol is a strong phrase. He’s leant back against the wall, AK-47 hanging from a strap across his chest. He looks tremendously bored. Logan and Wade have a brief, hushed argument before Wade strolls right on out into the open, and the guard stands to attention with a start.
“Did they leave you up here all by your little lonesome?” Wade questions, mocking pity, walking closer.
“You can’t be up here,” the guard warns wearily, hands sliding towards his rifle. Wade’s close enough to touch him.
“Ha ha, yeah,” Wade sighs, before grabbing the guards forehead and smacking his skull back against the wall. The guard crumples, and Wade catches him under the arms before he can hit the floor.
Logan steps out, opening the door to another bedroom so Wade can drag the body through. They position the man in bed. Wade tucks him in, kisses his forehead.
“You’re so getting fired,” he whispers over the guard’s sleeping form.
“Okay Sandman, let’s go.”
The search continues, and Logan starts to wonder if they need to find a staircase to the second floor when he presses a handle, and the door doesn’t give. Hope sparks in his heart.
“Wade.”
The merc turns and gasps when Logan wiggles the handle.
“You got a credit card?” Logan asks.
“A lady never pays on the first date.”
“To force the lock, prick.”
Wade shrugs. “I don’t believe in money.”
“Fuck me – don’t say anything. How do we get in?”
“You could kick it down,” Wade offers helpfully.
Logan blinks at him. “This is a stealth mission.”
“It’d really turn me on if you did.”
Okay, that was not a reason to do it, and Logan hates how the dumbass comment has him considering it. Getting out unsuspected was the goal, not gaining Wade’s favour.
But…if there was no other way…
“I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” Logan says, taking a step away from the door.
Wade claps his hands quietly. “You’re so big and so strong. Kick me down next.”
“If we make it out alive, Wade, sure,” he sighs, before driving his foot into the lock.
It’s loud. That’s obvious. But it works, and the pair quickly slip into the room and shut the door behind them.
It’s a study, that’s promising, and they waste no time in beginning their hunt. There’s a desk in the middle of the room, rows of filing cabinets line the right wall and Logan takes to rooting through the desk drawers as Wade opens the first of many metal drawers. They search silently, and the rustling of paper takes over the room.
The desk is useless – nothing but computer passwords and yacht pamphlets – and so Logan starts on the opposite end of the filing cabinet, and together he and Wade work their way into the middle.
It’s just business shit, taxes, and old anniversary cards the owners didn’t want to throw away. They were taking too long; someone will have heard the commotion and Logan listens intently for any sign of an approaching guard.
Wade pauses, his hand in a drawer.
“USB stick?” He asks.
Logan keeps looking. “That’s what they said.”
Wade’s hand emerges with a half torn sheet of paper, and when Logan glances over it’s to see a scribbled list of names, hastily written. The initials WF are circled at the bottom.
“Wilson Fisk,” Logan mutters, staring at it.
“The Avengers fucking suck ass,” Wade comments, sliding the drawer shut.
Logan’s about to respond when something catches at the edge of his ear. Footsteps, growing louder at a quick pace.
“Pocket it,” he whispers hurriedly, and Wade shoves it inside his suit.
Logan glances around quickly, but there was nowhere to hide. The desk wouldn’t fit both of them underneath, and they were a floor up – dropping from the window wouldn’t be very stealthy. He bends his knees. These guards were so going to be fired if they made it out the hospital.
The handle turns.
“I saw this in a movie once,” Wade whispers, before grabbing the front of Logan’s suit and slamming their mouths together.
He presses his entire body against Logan, pushing him until the backs of his thighs hit the desk. His hands start to roam underneath the suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, and Logan begins to kiss him back with stunning enthusiasm. He grabs Wade’s face with both hands, sighs softly into his mouth and holy fuck why would anyone want to do anything else?
Kissing Wade felt electric, made his skin crackle like the air before a storm. He felt breathless and hungry, starving for Wade’s mouth on his, Wade’s hands on his waist, Wade’s knee slipped in between his legs. Someone clears their throat, but Wade grabs Logan’s tie and tugs and the pull on his neck has fireworks sparking behind his eyes.
“Excuse me,” the someone tries again, and only then does Wade let up. He turns, keeping one arm inside Logan’s suit jacket, around his waist, whilst the other wraps itself in Logan’s tie. He leans close against Logan’s side and laughs breathlessly.
“Whoopsies,” Wade giggles, and Logan feels fucking dizzy. He wonders; if he kills the guard, would Wade want to make out some more and maybe have hot, nasty sex on this desk?
“So sorry,” Wade’s telling the unimpressed guard. “This little lovebug can’t keep his hands off me. The man’s an animal.”
Heat floods Logan’s face, he’s still trying to catch his breath, but when Wade squeezes his hip beneath the blazer he does his best to smile sheepishly. The awkward laugh he lets out is real.
“You can’t be in here,” the guard recites, shifting his stance. Wade’s eyes catch on the movement like a predator.
“We won’t tell if you don’t, peanut,” he says seductively. “In fact, we were just discussing adding a third.”
He tugs on the tie again, and Logan’s stomach jolts. Wade presses a kiss to his cheek without breaking eye contact with the guard.
The colour of the guard’s face must match Logan’s, as red as sunburn, and when he opens his mouth a string of stutters falls from his lips.
“You…can’t be in here,” he repeats, far less authoritatively than thirty seconds ago.
Wade sighs, disappointed, and detaches himself from Logan’s hip. He keeps his hand wrapped in Logan’s tie, and when he steps forward Logan’s forced to follow.
“I’ll dream of you,” Wade whispers to the man as they slink past him, and Logan watches his face burn even brighter as a fucking giggle leaves the man in a punched out breath.
It isn’t until they’re two corridors away that Wade drops his tie.
“Holy fuck,” he says, “I’m James Bond.”
“It…was a nice move,” Logan allows, swallowing thickly.
Wade throws him a look. “Little Logan certainly seemed to think so.”
“You caught me off guard.”
“I should do that more often. I think I have your saliva in my teeth. I’m gonna save it for a midnight snack.”
Logan rolls his eyes and begins marching back down the corridors, intent on finding that panel and getting the fuck out of this house. He needed a bathroom and three minutes alone with his right hand.
“Come on,” Wade groans as he follows Logan back down the hallways. “I did you a favour.”
“Yeah? How do you figure that?”
“First kiss is always the hardest. Now you can lay a little smooch on me whenever you like. I’ve broken the ice, I’m the human embodiment of global warming.”
Logan freezes, and Wade almost bumps into his back. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was on a heist, discussing his relationship with the guy he’d been pining after for months.
“You…want me to do that?” He asks stupidly. He felt like a teenage girl, and this was so not the fucking time but things never went the way you planned when it came to Wade Wilson.
“Did they turn your brain to steel as well? You’ve been sleeping in my bed, sweetums, and wearing my clothes. I don’t let just any Wolverine variant do that.”
Logan runs a hand over his hot face and pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is so fucking stupid.”
Wade starts off down the hallway again. Over his shoulder he calls, “we’ve been married for months, peanut, we only just made it official,” and Logan follows him, thinking that he might be right.
They meet no resistance on their way back down, and soon they’re stepping back out into the servants hallway and are swept up by the sea of bodies on the ground floor.
“We should go,” Logan says, leaving the before we’re caught unsaid.
“Without a dance?” Wade argues. “Bond always dances with the hot women at these things.”
“Yeah, and they normally try to kill him.”
“You won’t kill me. I’ve got plot armour, and you like me too much.”
Logan tips his head back to sigh and is blinded by the fuck ton of lights on the chandelier.
“I hate you, so much,” he tries, but his hearts not in it.
Wade gasps, pressing his hand to his chest. “Think of the children, Logie.”
“Their father’s an asshole.”
“That kind of talk is what pushed me into Eduardo’s arms.”
Logan laughs. He hates himself for it. He hates the warm, stupid feeling in his chest.
He doesn’t hate Wade.
The merc grabs a tiny sandwich cube off a tray as it goes past, and links his arm with Logan’s again.
“Let’s ‘o ‘ome,” he says through a mouthful of bread, “and” – he swallows – “I’ll show you my special move. The Wilson Fist.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“You’re right. I need to rest my vocal chords for when I’m screaming your name.”
“Oh you’ll be screaming alright,” Logan mutters, face burning.
“Logan,” Wade gasps, scandalised. “I’m a married woman.”
Logan leads him forward, back out the front door, down the sandstone steps until gravel crunches underneath their boots once more. They’re far enough away, they can drop the act, but Wade tightens his grip when Logan tries to slip his arm free, and Logan rolls his eyes fondly and pats Wade’s hand where it rests in the crook of Logan’s elbow. They walk until they’re out of sight of any partygoers.
Arm in arm.