Work Text:
Living with other people had never come easily to Logan. People were always getting in his business, wanting him to do this, move this here, protect these people, fight this war. He was disillusioned with human contact, they always needed something from him.
Until the X-Men.
Or at least so he thought. They were all nice to him at the start. Including him, inviting him to things.
“Logan, come to the games room and play pool with us,” Rogue would say, tugging on his arm. He’d grumble, but it was always in good nature. He secretly adored that the kids liked him and saw him as someone to look up to, even if he was only there to keep score and set the table for them.
“Logan, join us for movie night,” Storm would say, and he’d squish up between her and Kurt, feeling warm and secure. Happy even, as he watched whatever they put on, letting their idle chatter wash over him, getting up and making the popcorn when they asked. And it happened again and again.
“Logan, can you…”
“Logan, I need you to…”
“Logan, do this for me…”
Even after a long day teaching the kids in the danger room, and all Logan wanted to do was go to sleep, Scott would catch him halfway and pull him aside, ready to ask something of Logan.
“Come to mine and Jean’s room tonight,” he said, walking away before Logan even answered. Logan sighed and went to shower, resigning to another night of being needed and wanted. Later in their room, they would be all over him, and he’d be all over them, being told instructions.
“Touch Jean there.”
“Take Scott all the way.”
And he’d do it. And afterwards, they’d say that it probably wasn’t safe to sleep with him, just in case he had a nightmare, so he had better go back to his room. He’d gather his clothes and walk back, a cold hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.
And he’d had enough.
The next time Scott approached him and propositioned Logan to meet in Jean and Scott’s room later, Logan said no. Scott’s brows knitted together over his glasses.
“No? What do you mean no?” Logan’s eyes narrowed at Scott before he turned to open the fridge, primarily to hide any look on his face that would betray the fact that his heart was beating super fast, to the point he felt a little ill. He had wanted to do this for some time and knew that if he looked at Scott, his resolve would crumble.
“It means exactly what I fuckin’ said. I said no.” He heard Scott walk around the kitchen island, moving closer to Logan, and it sent his hackles up in a way he couldn’t explain.
“Come on, Logan. You never say no. What’s the deal this time?” Scott asked, like he couldn’t quite comprehend that sometimes Logan didn’t want to be used like a doll. A sudden epiphany hit Logan as his hands closed around a cola bottle. That was the problem. Logan seemed to be giving a lot but never receiving the same effort back. And enough was enough. Logan whirled around on him.
“Are you fuckin’ deaf? I said no because I don’t want to. You don’t have the holy grail of dicks, Slim. I don’t want to drink from it every night,” Logan snapped. Scott stared at him for a second, his mouth a tight line, before he backed off.
“Fine, whatever. If you change your mind, don’t expect us to be nice to you when you come in.” And with that, Scott walked out of the room.
And Logan was seething.
Expect them not to be nice to him? For not wanting to be used? Like Logan was some dog annoying them by pissing on the carpet instead of a human being who sometimes wanted to be held rather than used and thrown out afterwards.
Logan slammed the cola on the kitchen island and stormed towards the front door, passing Charles on the way.
“Ah, Logan. Just the man I was looking for. I need your help-”
“Do it your fuckin’ self,” Logan snarled as he continued walking past without stopping, ignoring Charles’ look of surprise. Once at the door, he tugged on his boots from the line-up and grabbed his leather jacket. He went to the garage and stole Scott’s favourite bike, hoping to scratch it, he was that mad, and rode out to the city to find the first dive bar he could.
~~
After that night and Logan’s realisation, he noticed more things. Logan’s eyes had been opened to how he was treated like a stray people brought home, like a pet. Well, Logan wasn’t having it anymore.
When he first joined the X-Men, he was standoffish because he didn’t want them to think he wanted to be there. And then they buttered him up with soft words and praise, making him believe that he could be a part of them.
They just wanted cannon fodder. Someone to throw themselves on the grenade when nobody else would. To run around for everyone else, yet receive nothing in return. And that was the issue. Logan could have lived with being there for everyone, with being wanted. But to never have that same effort given back to him? He couldn’t deal with that.
If he wanted to watch a film, everyone would be busy. If he were hungry and dinner had been cooked, there would never be a plate saved for him, and he’d be hit with a, “You should have been here earlier.” Maybe they were small, insignificant things that he should have brushed off, but it started to get to him, especially when Jean and Scott barely acknowledged him during the day, still expecting him to bend to their will at night.
So now whenever someone said “Logan,” with that particular tilt in his name, he denied them. Ignored them. Told them to fuck off while he was pulling on his jacket and running off to the closest bar he could find. Even the kids.
“Hey, Logan. I’m struggling with this thing, and I-” some kid asked him one day.
“Do it yourself,” he snapped. “You’re not a baby anymore. Grow up and take some responsibility for yourself.” And he’d storm off, ignoring the tears in their eyes.
It all came to a head one night when yet another person came to him, asking him for another part of himself he just didn’t have left to give. He snapped at them, but this time, Scott had had enough.
“Logan, I really don’t think-” Scott had once tried to say when Logan made his way to the door again.
“It’s funny that you think I give a shit about what you have to say, Slim.” Scott’s eyebrows were pinched again, just like they always were with Logan nowadays.
“You can’t keep doing this, Logan. This is a school. We have kids to think about when you decide to drag your drunk ass home. We don’t want them seeing that.” Logan snorted. He’d caught a few of those kids drunk themselves. He was pretty sure they weren’t as delicate as Scott thought they were. He continued walking to the door.
“Don’t do this, Logan. Don’t you-”
Logan slammed the door on whatever he had to say.
~~
Logan didn’t even know what time it was when he finally stumbled back to the mansion. It was dark, and all that could be heard was the buzz of insects chirping into the night. The driveway seemed different at night, expanding longer than Logan remembered, or that might have had something to do with the eight shots of whiskey he had downed. His healing factor had never been so overworked in his life.
After a lot of stumbling and a couple of cases of eating the gravel when he tripped, Logan finally got close to the door.
The porch light wasn’t on.
Logan frowned. They always left the porch light on, no matter how often he went out and came stumbling back. It could be a mistake. He carried on to the front door anyway, but when he went to open it, it stayed put.
Logan blinked at it, as if that would magically open the door. He pushed at it again, but to no avail. He tried repeatedly, using all his weight against it, but it wouldn’t move, so he knocked.
“Scott? Jean? Open the door,” he called. All that answered him was silence and the bugs' chirps. Logan knocked again, but louder this time.
“Storm? Kurt? Anyone? Let me in!” No one answered. He tried again and again, but each time, the door didn’t budge, and no one answered his calls.
He slept on the porch that night.
And every other night the porch light wasn’t left on for him, and he was left out in the cold.
~~
Logan and Wade had been living together for a few months after all the events with the time ripper. Logan didn’t want to go back to his universe, and Wade had offered him to stay at his apartment, so he did. It was on a rickety sofa bed he was sure was older than Al, but he’d slept in worse places.
So far, it had all been about second chances and doing better, and Logan had been doing better. A steady job that could help with rent, and he and Laura were meeting up regularly. Maybe he could even to go so far as to say he was happy.
Which is why his fight with Wade hurt so much. Logan couldn’t even remember what started it. All he knew was he couldn’t control his fucking mouth.
“I shouldn’t have to remind you about these things. You’re not a fuckin’ child,” he snapped at Wade. Wade’s face was already painted with anger.
“Look who’s talking! You call me a child when you’re the one who struggles to get through his day without looking at a bottle of Jack like it’s the holy fucking grail,” Wade spat.
Everything went into tunnel vision. A ringing echo of something Logan once said reverberated in his head, and his vision whited out. Without thinking, he grabbed his jacket and stormed out the door.
“Wait, Logan! Don’t go-” Was the last thing he heard before the door slammed behind him.
On the walk to the bar, the argument kept replaying in his mind. The source of the argument was still a mystery to him, but he couldn’t get the last thing Wade said out of his head—the holy grail. He remembered saying something similar like that long ago, probably to Scott, since he was such a holier-than-thou Boy Scout. It still stung, though.
When he was at the bar, knocking back shots like they were medicinal, he couldn’t help but wonder what he would come home to. More arguing? More poisonous barbs traded back and forth? Maybe the silent treatment he had been on the receiving end of once or twice. Hell, Logan didn’t even know if he was going to be let into the apartment, realising halfway to the bar he had forgotten his keys.
Flashes of a dark porch and a locked door crossed his closed eyes, and he leaned his head on the bar. The idea of not going back at all was tempting.
“Come on, Pal. Time to go home,” came the voice of the bartender. Logan didn’t lift his head.
“‘Nnn got no home t’ go to,” Logan slurred. The bartender sighed.
“I don’t give a shit if you live in a cardboard box. Bar is closing, so get out.”
Miraculously, Logan managed to drag himself up, ignoring the sting in his eyes at the familiar feeling of being chased out of a bar. He stepped out into the fresh night's air and fully committed himself to sleeping on the mat outside the apartment door, sure that Wade would have locked it behind his ungrateful ass.
He didn’t want to be like this. Biting the hands that fed him over and over. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, something whispered to him that Wade would be like the others. Wade reeled him in with kind words and gentle offers, and only too soon would come the requests, and Logan would get nothing in return, having to learn to be grateful for the scraps he was given.
The stairs to the apartment felt like climbing a mountain, the alcohol in his system keeping him sluggish as he finally got to their floor. He made his way down the small, dark corridor because the building's landlord was a piece of shit who wouldn’t pay for hall lights. Hence, the little lights above people’s doors.
As he walked down the hall, the poor replacements for lights above people’s doors glared at him. Some were on, some weren’t. The ones glaring brightly mocked him with their warmth. Something he hadn’t had in a long while, and he didn’t know if he would again. There’d be no beacon to call him home.
He turned the corner, the last stretch to the door, and that’s when he saw it.
The stupid little light above Wade’s apartment was on. It was slightly buzzing and flickering, not perfect, but enough to guide the way.
Logan’s first thought was to be angry.
“The idiot’s wasting electricity,” he grumbled to himself.
No matter. Logan sighed, walked forward, and lowered himself onto the ground, fully prepared to sleep outside. He wasn’t even going to try the handle, he knew it wouldn’t-
The door was suddenly ripped open.
“Peanut?!”
Logan blearily looked up to see Wade’s worried face looking down at him. Wade threw himself to his knees, gently cupping Logan’s jaw.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? How many fingers am I holding up?” Wade asked, not holding up any fingers at all.
“M’ fine. Not hurt, jus’ drunk,” Logan mumbled. Wade looked relieved but shook his head.
“Terrible news, the answer was zero.” He gave Logan a tight smile. Logan wasn’t in the mood to smile back.
“Yeh, whatever. You can leave me now. I was gonna go to sleep,” Logan said, leaning back against the wall. He could practically smell the confusion coming off of Wade in waves.
“Well, that’s great and all, but why are you still on the floor? If you want to brood yourself to sleep, at least come to bed,” Wade offered, one arm gently going underneath Logan’s arm, lifting him easily, like he weighed nothing. Logan was struck with the sudden thought that when they first met, Wade must have carried him out of the bar when Logan was passed out.
“Upsie Wolvie,” Wade said cheerily, wrapping one of Logan’s arms around his neck and walking him into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind them. He gently deposited Logan on the sofa and knelt to remove his boots. Logan didn’t get it.
“What’re you doing?” Logan slurred. Wade paused in his actions to look up at Logan, before looking down to continue his task.
“I’m taking off your boots so you don’t kick the shit out of me in your sleep, silly. You might enjoy cracking my knee joint out, but I won’t,” Wade said lightly. Logan shook his head, then immediately stopped when the action made him nauseous.
“Nnn’, I mean why.” Wade took Logan’s boots off and lightly pushed Logan back onto the sofa bed, which Logan hadn’t realised Wade had pulled out till now. He must have done it while Logan was gone.
“Why what, Logan?” Wade said quietly, his eyes searching Logan’s face as if that held some clues as to what was wrong. The soft concern in his expression annoyed Logan for some reason. Made him angry.
“Why are you being so fuckin’ nice?” he growled. “I was an asshole to you. Why bring me in and be gentle like I’m some fuckin’ injured animal?”
Logan didn’t know why he had to snarl. He didn’t want to. He wanted to curl up and have Wade tell him everything was alright.
“Are you technically not? I know you’re not a baby bird with a broken wing, but…” Wade trailed off. Clearly, he was trying to avoid arguing again like earlier, which annoyed Logan too. Where was the shouting? The swearing? The slamming doors at 2 am to teach Logan a lesson because he was mad at him? He didn’t get it.
So Logan grasped at straws to try and set Wade off.
“N’why’re you leaving the light on outside like an idiot? You’re gonna waste electricity,” Logan snapped. That one caused Wade to frown. Good, here it comes, just like Logan knew it would.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Peanut, but it’s dark as shit out there since good ol’ Larry Landlord doesn’t want to pay for real lights. How would you have found your way home?”
What.
“What?” Logan asked, his brain not comprehending what was being said. Wade’s brows furrowed, confusion all over his face.
“I said, how else would you have found your way home? It’s like a blackout out there at this time of night.” Logan was sure he still wasn’t hearing right.
“I can see in the dark, Bub. You don’t have to do that shit.” Logan leaned back, rubbing a hand down his face. Wade let out a small chuckle.
“Well, it’s that old age thing, isn’t it? Leaving the porch light on to signal to come home. Something about safety and security and all that. Honestly, Lo, I would have thought you’d have been there when it was invented. Some of us have to Google this shit,” Wade answered, standing up and lightly brushing a hand against Logan’s shoulder.
“You’re freezing, here.” Wade pulled the blanket up from the bed and wrapped it around Logan’s shoulders. “Let me go make you one of my famous hot chocolates. We’ll get you warmed up.” Wade was being so sincere. Logan couldn’t smell any hostility on him. All traces of anger, gone. The slight sour smell of anxiety lingered, but it wasn’t overpowering. Other than that…
Wade smelled like home.
Logan’s eyes burned, his throat felt tight. He burst out into sobs before he could stop them, unable to hold them back.
“Logan?!” The concern and alarm in Wade’s voice made Logan cry harder. “Oh my God, Logan. Are you hurt? Did I hurt you? Are you being attacked by an unseen entity right now? What?!” Wade garbled, his hands hovering above Logan like he didn’t know if touching him would get him skewered.
Logan shook his head, unable to slow the tears enough to answer Wade. Slowly, to avoid spooking him, Wade sat down next to him, tentatively wrapping his arm around Logan’s shoulder. Logan surprised even himself for how quickly he tucked into Wade’s chest. He’d blame it on the drink later, but for now, he allowed himself the safety and security of being held.
After however many minutes of him crying and Wade cooing and murmuring comforting things, the tears slowed down, and Logan gulped to clear the lump in his throat. He was also pretty sure that the healing factor had burned through the alcohol now, so his mind was clearer.
Wade pulled back.
“Want to talk about it now?” he asked gently. Logan wanted to snap at him again. Snarl that he didn’t need to treat Logan with kid gloves and that he wasn’t some fragile little thing. But he stopped himself. Wade was being genuine now and not an asshole for once. Why did Logan always have to be the asshole? He didn’t want to be.
“When,” Logan started, before clearing his throat, his voice rough from all the crying. “When I realised how much the X-Men used me, and gave nothing in return, I started going to bars.” Wade sat still as a statue, not wanting to put him off from opening up. “I’d come back drunk, stumbling to my bedroom while Scott-” He took another pause. It was still painful bringing them up.
“While Scott looked at me like I was a piece of shit. Kept telling me to think of the kids, but sometimes I think they were just as bad, following in everyone else’s footsteps. They didn’t… I… when they,” he stumbled. He knew he was rambling. Anything to prevent getting to the crux of the problem.
“It got to the point they stopped leaving the porch light on for me,” he finally managed to choke out, trying to fight back another wave of tears. He was the Goddamn Wolverine. He shouldn’t be crying over this.
“Oh, Peanut.” Wade’s voice was full of all the sympathy that Logan didn’t deserve. Not after what he did.
“Don’t fuckin’ pity me,” Logan pulled away, already regretting sharing this with him. Wade grabbed onto his arm though, preventing him from moving away.
“That sucks, Lo. It really does,” Wade said, gently letting go of Logan’s arm when it felt like he wasn’t about to bolt again. There was a beat of silence between them.
“I used to sleep outside,” Logan admitted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wade’s head turn slowly to look at him.
“Excuse me? Run that by me one more time.” Logan sighed.
“When I’d come home drunk, the porch light used to be off, and the door would be locked. So I used to sleep outside. That’s why…” he trailed off.
“...Why I found you looking like you were about to fall asleep on the floor?” Logan nodded. Wade was still looking at him, and he didn’t want to be under its scrutiny.
“Our door wasn’t locked, Lo. Did you even try it?” Wade asked. Logan’s head snapped to Wade.
“What do you mean?” he asked, some emotion he couldn’t name crawling up his throat.
“I noticed you didn’t pick up your keys when you stormed out earlier, so I left the door open for you. It’s not like I couldn’t take on anyone who tried to walk in uninvited,” Wade said with a little laugh. Logan didn’t hear it though, as his brain was still focused on Wade noticing he hadn’t taken his keys. That he had left their home open and waiting for him.
He almost wanted to cry again.
“You might think I’ll judge you for things that happened in your universe, Lo, but they didn’t happen here. You’re not that man anymore.” Wade leaned in more. “We’re a ‘We listen and we don’t judge’ household up in here. It’s not like I have a squeaky clean record. Besides, this is the first minor blip in the rest of our lives, Honey Badger. One little fight and fuck up doesn’t stop this from being your home.”
Logan looked at this impossible man, not understanding what he did in the world to deserve him. Or maybe they deserved each other. There was another beat of silence before Wade patted his knee.
“Right, I think that’s enough emotions for tonight, or we’ll use them all up. Let me get you that hot chocolate.” Wade got up and went to the kitchen. Logan could hear the pots and pans being banged around, stuff Logan was no doubt going to have to clean tomorrow, but for now, the thought of being cared for and having a hot chocolate made for him hit him more than he realised, so he settled back into the sofa and waited for it.
In the future, any time he stormed off in a fight or argument, Wade always made sure to leave the porch light on and the door unlocked.
