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"You have any luck with the girl?" Logan asks as the bake-off episode concludes.
"What? No," Wade chuckles. "She's happy. She's healthy. She's gonna live a long, gorgeous life with her distressingly hot hiker boyfriend." He shrugs. "I got my closure."
"You could win her back," Logan prods. "You said it yourself. You saved the universe for her."
"Sure. And the rest of my friends, too." He pauses, a shot of bravery lancing through him. "That includes you, peanut."
Logan snorts, mirthless. "I'm a shitty friend, bub."
Their friends went home hours ago, Blind Al went to bed shortly after. Logan and Wade cleaned up after dinner, falling into the quiet, easy domestic routine to which they've become accustomed over the past week.
"You were gonna die for me that day," Wade says into the yawning silence between them and the TV. "Under the time ripper."
Silence falls again, closing in around them like fog, slipping between them on the couch.
"Yeah," Logan says, finally. "I was."
"For me. A half-wit moron."
Logan closes his eyes. There's something like regret there. "It was less about dying for you," he explains, slow, "and more about wanting you to keep living."
"That's--that's the same thing," Wade murmurs, brow quirked, unable to keep from picking on him even now, even in this soft quiet moment. "You do realize that's the same thing, right?"
"No, it ain't, bub," Logan replies. "Not for me. Not when it's you."
"You wanna explain, or shall I just fill in the blanks on my own?"
"A week ago I would have jumped at the opportunity to check out, no rhyme or reason, I'd have just done it for the sake of it." He looks away, steadfast into space. "And then outside that room, lookin' at you?" He lets out a sigh. "I wanted to live, Red." He gives a quiet, joyless little laugh. "You made me want to live. But I didn't... wanna do it... alone."
"You wanted me to live more," Wade murmurs, realization hitting. "I..."
"Yeah, well. Then you tried to die for me. Fuck was that about?"
"Oh, c'mon, Logan," Wade says, barely above a whisper. "I think you know."
Logan meets his eyes, brow furrowed, confused. He's just not getting it.
"I wanted you to live more," Wade explains. "I couldn't live with myself if I'd brought you kicking and screaming into my world just to stand there and watch you nobly kill yourself behind that door."
"After everything I said to you? After--"
"After you fought like a fucking demon for my world? After you saved us there in the Void? After you became the man your Chuck knew you were? After you told me you were gonna die for me, like a hero? After that?"
"Wade."
"What? Come on, the math works out. My world needs someone like that." He shrugs. "They don't need an attention-starved, jabbering--"
Logan makes a tiny, frustrated noise. Leans forward, pulls Wade in by the back of the neck to meet him halfway, and kisses the words out of his mouth.
Wade gasps, stiffens, eyes wide for just a second before he feels himself melt and kiss back. Logan's mouth is soft, just a little chapped and opening against Wade's, tongue flicking out to taste him. It's perfect, actually, picture-perfect, the kind of kiss that deserves to be commemorated on a postage stamp. He hears himself whimper, high in his throat, opens his mouth against Logan's and deepens the kiss on instinct, flying by the seat of his pants, going by feel.
Logan is the one to pull back first, just enough to pull in a breath, forehead resting against Wade's, noses brushing. They breathe together for a few seconds before Logan speaks. "I shouldn't have said those things. I'm an asshole, and I'm--the world does fuckin' need you, Wade." His hands move to the front of Wade's shirt, grip it tight. "I fuckin' need you."
"Yeah," Wade says, "I--fuck. Yeah, samesies, big boy. I--can we kiss again? Please?"
A smile that could light a city breaks across Logan's face, he looks at Wade like Wade is the most amazing thing he's ever seen and he kisses him again. It's just as good as the first time. Better, actually.
And then Wade runs his mouth, like he always does. "I--I think we're doing this backwards," he says, a little dazed as he pulls back, "I think you're usually supposed to kiss before you have sex."
Logan almost snorts. "What we did was barely even sex, bub. It was too ugly to be somethin' as good as that."
"Um, if it wasn't sex, then what the hell was it? Because I'm pretty sure there was a statistically-significant amount of genital involvement which makes it difficult for it to have been anything else."
The warm, broad pad of Logan's thumb strokes Wade's cheekbone. "I'm just saying I didn't treat you right," he says. "Not like you should have been."
"Peanut, that's really sweet of you to say, but may I remind you that I," he ticks the next items off his fingers, "kidnapped you, lied to you, and then physically attacked you when you were--justifiably--a little grumpy about it?"
"A little grumpy?" Logan shakes his head. "I want a do-over."
"Of the sex, or--"
Logan's hand is still cupping his jaw when he speaks.
"You are the most determined, most devious, cleverest bastard I've ever met."
"Oh my god, of the whole speech. Look, you don't have to--"
"And I have never met someone who could keep up with me like you can, who could go toe to toe with me like that in a fight. You're selfless, ferocious, you're--fuckin' heroic. You were gonna throw it all away for your family. And for me."
"Logan--"
"And I'm so fuckin' glad you didn't die alone, I'm so fuckin' glad I got into that room and bore it with you. Fuck the multiverse, bub, I'm--" He smiles, shakes his head, huffs a tiny laugh like he can't believe what's in front of him. "Fuck the multiverse. I'm happy I got you."
It takes kind of a lot to make Wade cry, all right? He cries at movies where dogs die, yeah, but doesn't everybody? In real life it takes a fucking lot. And he's--he's not fucking crying, okay? He's just itchy. Behind his eyeballs.
"I know we've known each other for like, a little over a week," Wade says, "so this is--this is premature, I know it is. But if Love Island has taught me anything at all--"
"Christ."
"--It's that sometimes these things don't take long. And--"
"Really? Love Island?"
"Are you going to let me finish my speech or are you gonna keep interrupting me like a jackass?"
"Sorry. Nevermind. Go on."
"Anyway, as I was saying," Wade continues, "sometimes--sometimes there's love at first sight, and... sometimes there's love at the bottom of a subway station while your body gets torn apart at the atomic level."
Logan's eyes shine. He doesn't say anything else. He doesn't really have to. He just gives a shaky sigh, like he hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath, and kisses Wade again.
"Now we can do the sex over."
"Oh, thank god," Wade replies all in a rush, pressing himself closer to Logan, almost crawling into his lap, "was getting nervous there for a second."
Logan easily pulls Wade more fully into his lap and Wade slings a leg on either side of his waist, straddling him comfortably. "You drive me insane," Logan purrs, hands sliding up Wade's jean-clad thighs, up his sides. "Your body. You're made like an acrobat."
"Unfortunately my whole body is exactly as jacked-up as my face is. Not much to look at."
"God, you really have no idea how attractive you are."
"All right, you don't need to pander, I'm--"
"Shut up," Logan murmurs, but it's not mean, it's gentle. He tugs at the hem of Wade's shirt. "Can I get this off you?"
"Your dick's been in my mouth and you're asking--"
"It's a do-over, bub."
"Yes," Wade says, rolling his eyes, "sure. Take my shirt off. By all means."
He raises his arms to help shrug out of the shirt, watches as Logan tosses it aside. Immediately Logan's hands are on him, smoothing over his stomach, chest, shoulders, his eyes following the path his palms and fingers take. He looks enraptured.
That's a hard look to fake.
"Severely psoriatic lab rats really do it for you?" Wade jokes, quirking an eyebrow.
"Dancers do it for me," Logan breathes, leaning in to press his lips against Wade's neck as his hands circle around to Wade's back, pulling him close. "Gymnasts do. Swordsmen do."
"Banged a lot of swordsmen?"
He feels Logan quirk a smile against his pulse point. "No need for jealousy, bub. You're my favorite."
"Aw. That's sweet." Wade tugs on Logan's shirt, pulls it over his head and tosses it to join his own. "Holy shit, it really isn't fair for you to look like this."
They stay at that level of undress for a long while, just kissing, touching each other softly. Making out like teenagers on the couch. It feels racy, somehow, intimate in a way that surpasses anything that happened in the goddamn Odyssey. It's been a long time since Wade's been touched like this, like a partner, and it's beyond good, he feels drunk on it. Their positioning changes; Logan gets his back against the seat of the couch, stretches out over him; Wade slings one leg over the back of the couch and one over the side to shamelessly offer Logan room between them, which he graciously takes. Their hips settle together and Wade gasps, rocks up into him with his heel on the ground for leverage.
"How'd you wanna do this, peanut?" he gathers enough of his faculties to ask as Logan kisses and bites a path down his neck. "You want bottom again, or--"
"I dunno, bub," Logan says, audibly holding back a laugh, "aren't you too homophobic for that?"
"God fucking damn it," Wade swears, "motherfucking nutbunnies, I'm never going to live that down."
"Nope."
"You should still answer my question." Wade runs both hands through Logan's hair, mussing it up, playing with those silly, charming double cowlicks. "How do you wanna do this?"
"How do you want to?"
Wade blinks. "That's... a good question. I guess it doesn't matter much to me, I just want it... nice." He runs his hands through Logan's hair again, nails gently scraping against his scalp. Logan's eyes flutter shut, head tipping back against his touch; if he were a cat, Wade knows he'd be purring. "Not that our tussle in the Odyssey was all bad. Is it awful if I kinda had fun? Not even with the sex, but with the fight."
Logan's eyes are closed; he opens one of them to look at Wade, a little amused. "It was a little fun, wasn't it," he rumbles.
"We could do it again sometime. Fight, I mean. For fun. If you want."
"Anything you want, bub," Logan all but purrs. "I like to watch you move."
"You know what I'd like? I'd like to get your pants off."
Logan straightens, gets up from the couch. Undoes his jeans, pushes them down along with his boxer briefs, steps out of them.
Wade grins, giggles, a gleeful little noise, because the motherfucking Wolverine is in his shitty apartment, naked and hard as concrete, wearing socks, with the dog snoring in the corner.
It's such a tremendously far cry from where both of them were not ten days ago.
"What?" Logan asks, head tilted, hands on his hips. "What's got you laughing?"
"Just can't believe my life, is all. Come back here."
"Nuh-uh. Your pants first."
"Oh! Yeah. That'll make the totally normal and deeply affectionate sex we're about to have a lot easier to accomplish."
"You--really have a way with words."
"Aw," Wade says, peeling himself out of his jeans, lifting his hips to wriggle out of them and shove them aside. "Thanks!"
"Never said it was a good way."
"It was implied. Now return to your spot betwixt my wantonly spread legs, lover boy."
Logan obeys, a silly grin on his face. "Lover boy, huh? Y'know," he hums, dragging his body up Wade's to settle chest to chest, hip to hip, cock to cock, nothing between them this time. Logan is hot, temperature wise, fabulously warm to the touch, and oh, does Wade touch, hands wandering over Logan's back, his flanks, his ass. "Y'know, I don't think I mind that one so much."
"Yeah?"
"Mm." Logan rocks down against him and Wade sighs with it, meets the movement with his own. "'S a nice word. Lover."
"A little old-timey."
"I'm a little old-timey, bub."
"Touché," Wade says, tipping his head back to invite Logan to kiss there, which he does, immediately; his scruff scrapes and tickles, his lips and tongue soft, his teeth gently biting and worrying Wade's skin. "You're... what, two hundred and fifty?"
"Somewhere around there." Logan is careful not to draw blood, not that it matters, Wade would heal instantly. Wade supposes it's about the principle of the thing, this time. Maybe another time they can have wild, playful, disrespectful sex, covered in each others' blood but knowing, this time, where their emotions truly lie.
But for now, there's been enough blood. For now, they can just take care of each other.
Wade wetly licks his palm, works his hand between their bodies and wraps his fingers around both of them. "Oh," Logan gasps softly as Wade strokes them together. And yeah, that about covers it, the feeling of Logan's cock squeezed against his own is indescribably good. Wade hadn't been allowed to touch him last time, not with his hands--and the thrill of this, of Logan letting him in like this, does not escape him. His skin is soft over hard flesh, wonderfully uniform, smooth and unblemished.
"How 'bout we just--do this," Logan asks, "that okay? If we don't--go all the way?"
"We're butt-ass naked on the couch with our tips touching after verbally confessing our big, gay feelings for each other, peanut," Wade says, playful, "I'm pretty sure that this is about as all the way as you can get already, assplay be damned."
God, he loves to hear Logan's laugh, his real laugh, happy and unguarded. "Point taken, okay," Logan says, pulling back from Wade's neck to kiss him on the mouth again as he establishes a lazy, rocking rhythm with his hips. "'M glad you're not too homophobic for a little frottage."
"First of all, how do you know that word?"
"I'm more than two hundred years old."
"Fair. Second of all, no, it's not gay unless our balls t--oh my god, our balls are touching. I'm entering a total bigoted warp core breach. I may die. Kiss me, handsome, this might be your last chance before I--" Wade gasps as Logan grinds down on him particularly hard, "--shuffle off this mortal--oh, fuck."
Logan does kiss him again, laughing into his mouth, the sound becoming a low moan as Wade grips them a little harder, makes a tighter tunnel between dick and palm for Logan to fuck into.
They move together nice and easy for what feels like a long time, almost lazy, letting pleasure build slow and simple between them. Sharing breaths, soft touches, the occasional sweet word.
If Wade was a sappier, more bullshit-inclined person, he might think of what they're doing as making love.
But he's not, of course. So naturally the thought doesn't even enter his mind. Doesn't even so much as skate across the periphery.
Of course not.
"Wade," Logan murmurs, urgently, voice catching, "Wade, I--"
He's starting to hitch, starting to speed up as he nears release. Wade shakes his head, wraps a leg around his waist. "Slow your roll, lover boy," he says softly, "just enjoy it. I'm not goin' anywhere." Logan shudders, breathes hot and open-mouthed against Wade's neck. Slows his pace again, with great effort. "Good boy," Wade whispers, not for the kink of it, more because he just fucking means it, Logan is good, he's the best. The noise Logan makes is strangled, high, and Wade instantly files it away in high-def memory for later use.
He slides his roughened thumb across their tips, spreading the wetness there, drawing the pad of his thumb between them to rub just a little insistent at the sensitive, soft vee of tissue right under the crown of Logan's cock, and it's really only a few seconds of that before Logan is shaking apart above him, moaning into Wade's mouth and coming in hot, thick bursts across Wade's cock and hand and stomach; he doesn't stop moving, eyes wild and dazed and searching Wade's like he's finding something there, flushed to the tips of his ears and so, so beautiful and open and his.
The hot slick of Logan's come feels so good and Wade hears himself whine with it, Logan still rocking down against him to ride out the end of his release. Pleasure coils hot in Wade's stomach, tightening, tightening, tension building up in every muscle.
"C'mon," Logan pleads, voice roughened, dark eyes blown wide, "c'mon, lover boy, show me."
That is it. Wade makes a noise that should embarrass him, legs tightening around Logan's own as he comes messy and trembling, arching with the force of it and feeling nothing but good and hot and love and Logan.
They slow to a stop, Logan melting over him, kissing him once on the lips and then burying his face at Wade's neck where he noses and breathes and makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like a purr. Wade's hand, the one not covered in come, slides up to Logan's hair. Pets softly through his soft cowlicks, over and over.
"C'mon, peanut," Wade murmurs after a few quiet, hazy minutes. "Let's get cleaned up."
Logan shakes his head.
"Nope. We're not just gonna go to sleep like this, baby. We'll get stuck together."
"Ngh."
"Nope. Your ample, gorgeous body hair will get gross and matted and when you get up it'll get stuck to me like a wax strip and you'll be howling like a badger getting her first Brazilian."
"I--yeah," Logan says over a tired snort of laughter, "okay, that paints a vivid picture."
"Let's move this party to the shower, yeah?" Wade asks, scratching at Logan's scalp. "I'm feelin' nice and vulnerable and I've got some backstory to tell you while I wash your hair."
"Sounds good, bub," Logan purrs, eyes fluttering shut for a moment with the scratches before he rises, holding a hand out to Wade to help him up.
"Probably take your socks off before the shower," Wade says, "unless you're a real freak."
"Oh, for the love of--" Logan looks down at his feet, a little horrified. "I had them on the whole time, didn't I. That's why you laughed."
"The whole time! You were just a hot naked man in socks!"
Logan groans, scrubs a hand over his face, and Wade grins. "You must have it real bad for me if you were able to keep your dick hard through that."
"Yeah, peanut, you have no idea," Wade agrees, looking him over shamelessly as he takes his socks off and tosses them aside. "I've got it real bad."