Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ellie

“Don’t be nervous.”

It was possibly the tenth time he’d said it that morning and she hadn’t been, but she was starting to think maybe she should be. 

“I’m not,” Ellie said anyway, hoping to calm both their nerves. 

The first day of a new school was always awkward and a little scary, at least until she got her bearings. 

She would know; this was her fourth First Day this year. 

“I was talking to myself,” her papi said, smiling afterward so she knew it was a joke. But he was nervous. She could tell. He was super quiet all morning — not like him at all — and he’d had to tie his shoes three times before the bows finally held. He kept dropping stuff too. Her papi was silly sometimes (most of the time) but he wasn’t clumsy for real. Not usually. 

He hadn’t been like this with the other schools, not since kindergarten days, but this one was apparently special. Full of kids just like her. 

Well, not just like. They all had lots of different mutations, they wouldn’t be the same as hers. She’d only ever met adults with mutations before, so she was way more excited than nervous at the idea of meeting more kids her own age who she didn’t have to hide around. 

This school was gonna be great. She had no idea why her papi was so nervous about it. 

Gabby

“It’s okay if you wanna go eat with your friends,” her dad said, nodding towards the open doorway that led out into the hall where a group of kids from her class were laughing and shoving each other. 

The mansion had a big dining room with four long tables for students to eat at, but the faculty had their own kitchen and dining room where she usually ate all of her meals with her dad and the other teachers. 

“They’re not my friends,” she muttered, stacking pancakes on her plate and layering bacon and syrup in between. 

“Weren’t you playing with them last week?” he asked, sliding the bowl of strawberries towards her after scoping out a spoonful for himself. 

Pancake, syrup, bacon, syrup. 

“Yep.”

Strawberry slices, syrup, pancake, syrup. 

“Something happen?”

Bacon, syrup, strawberry slices—  

Her dad grabbed the brown plastic bottle out of her hand. 

“Enough with the syrup. Your pancakes are gonna dissolve.” 

She huffed, added one more layer of bacon, then started working on carefully cutting it into triangles. 

“Gabs? What happened?”

She shrugged. 

“Nothing. They just don’t like me.”

“Why do you say that?”

Ugh, she didn’t want to talk about it!

He was staring at her, that look that said you’d better start talking or I’m gonna start talking and it’s gonna be a loooooong boring lecture. 

She sighed heavily, little shoulders moving up and down in an exaggerated motion. 

“I had to go to the bathroom and when I was walking back I heard them talking about me and saying…stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Said my code name should be Guinea Pig cuz I was made in a lab.” She looked up at the sound of scraping metal to see the fork in his hand bent nearly in half. His jaw was clenched in that “I’m about to tell you to close your eyes because I’m going to hurt someone” kinda way he got when there were bad guys around. 

She didn’t want to tell the rest — the part that was gonna get her in trouble — but if she didn’t it was basically lying and she wasn’t supposed to lie. 

“They were all laughing and then I kinda maybe popped their basketball with my claw and Imighthavethreatenedtosettheirhomeworkonfire,” she mumbled the last part super fast hoping her dad wouldn’t hear. 

Fat chance. He heard everything. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That meant she wasn’t getting yelled at, but she was probably getting the “disappointed” talk which was way worse cuz it made daddy sad. 

She chewed her pancake without really tasting it, staring down at her plate. 

“Hey,” he tipped her chin up to look at him. “Those kids are idiots; you don’t wanna spend time with people like that anyway. Proud of you for not following through with the threat this time.” 

She beamed at him. 

“Really?”

“Really. I know how hard it is to stay in control, especially when people are being mean and deserve it. You did good, kid.” He kissed the top of her head. “You happen to remember all of their names?”

Ellie

The school was huge and fancy, way different from her other ones. It was basically a giant house on a bunch of land and she couldn’t wait to explore it all. 

The teachers were nice; they all seemed happier than her last ones. Way less grumpy, even the art history teacher who frowned a lot and had scary eyebrows. 

And the classes were fun. She already knew some of the stuff, but there was a whole class on mutations and the history of mutants! Her old school barely even mentioned them except the occasional anti-bullying sign or that one banner Mrs. Greene had of a bunch of kids holding hands and one of them was blue. 

Her first class of the day was math, which was boring but easy to catch up with. Starting in the middle of the semester meant she was on the back foot with everything, but never for long. She was good at figuring stuff out. 

There were a couple free seats, mostly around a girl with shoulder length black hair and scars on her face. They weren’t like her papi’s, they were long slashes straight across both eyes. They looked kinda badass. Maybe that was why she was sitting alone? That plus the scowl. 

Ellie wasn’t deterred in the slightest. 

Taking one of the desks next to her in the back of the room she stuck out her hand and introduced herself. 

“Hi. I’m Ellie.”

The girl blinked at her for a few seconds before giving her a toothy grin and replying. 

“I’m Gabby.” 

Turned out, there was a free seat next to Gabby in every class, which worked out perfectly for Ellie because she was pretty sure they were best friends now. 

Sure enough, by the end of the week she had decided Gabby was the coolest person in the whole school and fate had gotten her kicked out of all those other schools so that they could meet and become the coolest superhero duo to ever exist. 

When Friday rolled around she was actually sad to not have school the next day. 

Crazy. 

But that was easily solved by convincing her papi to take her to the park to meet up with Gabby so she could teach her how to roller skate. How was she a whole eight years old and she’d never been roller skating! Ellie was going to fix that. Stat.

Logan 

Logan watched Gabby brighten up over the last couple of days. He’d been worried about her after she’d told him about the incident with those kids; you’d think with all of them being mutants they’d be a little more accepting, but Logan knew all too well that cliques formed even in the smallest of groups and sometimes the only thing you needed to have in common was that you were less different than someone else. 

He’d taken the mature route and had a talk with Chuck about it — after ‘Roro had spent a couple hours talking him down. 

Since then, he’d kept an extra close eye on her, but she seemed to have bounced back. The new girl, Ellie, had a lot to do with that. 

They spent most of his class passing notes back and forth while he pretended not to notice, and apparently every other class too. Gabby talked about her nonstop at dinner and had even eaten lunch in the main hall the entire week, tucked away at the end of one of the tables, the two of them giggling and trading snacks back and forth. 

Most students who lived off campus were legacies; kids whose parents were mutants and had worked with or learned from the X-Men in some capacity. He knew most of them; he’d been around a while. But this one was different. He didn’t recognize the last name — Camacho — but there was something about her scent that he couldn’t quite place, but was deeply familiar. It was driving him crazy. He knew better than to ask though. Most of these kids — including his own — had a rough start in life. Many were living in single-parent homes, if they had parents at all. Plenty didn’t. That’s how most of them came to live at the school. 

No, he’d figure it out on his own eventually. Or he’d get frustrated enough and just go read her file. He avoided doing that whenever possible though because Chuck always editorialized in the margins and he didn’t want to be swayed on his opinion of any of them before they had a chance to show him who they were. 

As far as he was concerned, Ellie was a bright, polite little girl who didn’t so much as flinch when Gabby’s bone claws came out the first time, and that was enough to put her in his good books. And to have him waking up at eight in the morning on a Saturday to take his daughter to the store to buy roller skates before heading to the park. 

He’d barely put the truck in park before Gabby was jumping out, skates dangling from one arm. 

His phone rang the moment he opened the door, Laura’s name popping up on the screen along with a photo of her and Gabby sticking their tongues out at the camera. 

“I’ll be right there sweetie, your sister’s calling. Go on and find your friend.”

He answered the phone, watching Gabby run off in the other direction toward the paved skate area of the park. 

A few minutes into the conversation he froze, a familiar scent stinging his nostrils. 

“Hey, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hung up and spun around, body tense and ready for a fight. 

“The fuck’re you doing here, Wilson?”

The mercenary blinked, clearly startled by his presence. 

“That’s a rude way to greet an old friend,” he snarked, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked ridiculous in cargo pants and an eyesore of a Hawaiian shirt over long sleeves, somehow standing out more than if he’d been wearing his usual red and black leather getup. 

“We’re not friends.”

“You are old though,” Wade said, snapping finger guns and winking. 

Logan growled and let his claws slip out just a tiny bit. Just enough for Wade to see and no one else. They were in public. 

“Down boy, I’m not here for you. Swear on Stan Lee’s grave, I’m just as surprised to see you as you are to see me.” He held his hands up in a placating fashion. Logan wasn’t fully convinced. 

“Then why the fuck are you here?” He asked again. He wanted to look for Gabby, but he didn’t want to draw attention to her if this was some kind of ambush.

He was in the middle of assessing three different exit strategies when Wade’s response short circuited his brain. 

“I’m chaperoning my daughter’s play date, like a responsible parent. What are you doing lurking around a playground in broad day—  ohmyshitfuckingchrist. Please tell me you do not have a child named —”

Chapter Text

Wade

“Daddy!” 

Wade was cut off from his panicked ramble by a little girl with green eyes and black hair barreling towards them, tiny hand gripped firmly around Ellie’s. 

Fuck his life. 

“This can’t be happening,” he muttered under his breath. 

“You said you were gonna come watch,” she demanded of him. 

Logan. 

The Wolverine. 

Who she was calling daddy. 

Wade thought he might be having a stroke. 

“Papi, this is Mr. Logan, he’s my teacher. And Gabby’s dad, duh,” Ellie informed him.

Yup. Definitely having a stroke. 

“We’ve met,” Logan responded, like the words were being ripped from his throat. Wade didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How was this his real? 

“Mr. Camacho you should let Ellie come live at the mansion cuz then we could see each other every day, even weekends and holidays and summer. Except some kids go home in the summer. But she could stay. And we could share a room or she could have the room right next to mine and we could cut a door through the wall — Daddy can build doors — and —“

“Take a breath sweetpea,” Wade interrupted, a little concerned she was going to make herself pass out. He bent down to be at eye level with her tiny self.  “It’s Mr. Wilson, but you can just call me Wade. And that all sounds very nice and fun, but Ellie has a home. Wouldn’t wanna take up space for a kid that really needs it. You guys still see each other plenty.”

The resemblance was truly uncanny. Same exact frown. Her eyebrows were even doing the angry grrrr thing that had been directed at Wade more times than he could count. Unfortunate for her, because he’d built up a tolerance to it over the years. 

“Living at the mansion does provide a stable learning environment for kids with… unpredictable home lives. Could be beneficial. Three square meals, routine, structure,” Logan added. 

So does prison, he resisted the urge to say. 

He straightened back up, jaw clenched, forcing himself to smile through the thinly-veiled dig. Who the fuck was he to comment on Wade’s parenting abilities? 

“Exactly. All things my Elliebear already has, so that would be redundant.”

Logan snorted derisively. 

“Last time I saw ya, y’couldn’t tell which of your personalities was real or not, let alone what day of the week it was. I doubt—“

“Lot’s changed in a decade,” he cut off what was surely gearing up to be a lovely trip down memory lane. “Ellie, sweetness, why don’t you guys go ahead and get back to skating. We’ll be over in a bit. The grown ups need to have a chat.”

As soon as both kids were out of sight Wade turned and swung, his punch landing square on Logan’s jaw. 

He was proud of himself for not flinching at the crack of his own bones. 

Fucking adamantium skeleton. 

He had about three seconds of smug satisfaction before he was impaled, three long blades straight through his side. 

Shoulda seen that coming.  

Good thing this shirt's mostly red. 

“Fine,” Wade wheezed, pulling a small, thin knife from his belt and lodging it in Logan’s gut up to the hilt. “I was gonna stick with bare knuckles, but since you asked so nicely.” He twisted the blade and the ones in his side retracted a few inches before sinking back in at a slightly different angle, tearing a new path through his abdomen. 

“The fuck is your problem, Wilson?”

“My problem? You’re the one spitting insults left and right.” 

Logan pulled the claws out and side-stepped, knocking Wade’s hand away where it still held his blade. He pulled the knife out and tossed it at Wade’s feet. 

He would’ve left it there out of principle but this was a park and if he got distracted and forgot to pick it up later some kid might come along and stab themselves and then it'd be a whole thing. 

Being a responsible adult blows.  

“Didn’t insult ya bub, just stating the facts—“

Another swing and hit, this time to the stomach (less bone shattering on Wade’s end). 

“Oh fuck off, you self-righteous prick. Who even let you off your leash long enough to procreate? Was it like when your cat gets out then comes back a couple months later with a litter and a bad attitude? Except in your case the attitude comes as the factory default.”

Okay, if he’s being honest, he deserved that throat punch. That was a shitty thing to say. But so was everything coming out of the other man’s mouth. And he started it. 

His back hit a nearby tree with enough force to knock the wind out of him. 

“S’miracle how anyone managed to tolerate your existence enough to have a kid with you,” he growled, face inches away and hand around Wade’s throat. 

At another time he might’ve found it erotic, as it was, he just found it annoying. 

“Fun fact: she didn’t. And then she died, so good job bringing that up. Guess Xavier’s doesn’t offer sensitivity training, huh?”

He hadn’t been planning to share that information, but the look on Logan’s face was worth it. 

Good. He should feel like an ass.

He took advantage of the moment of slipped concentration and headbutted him (again, bad idea. Adamantium skull, dumbass), and reversed their positions. He grabbed Logan by the front of his shirt, reaching for another knife, but the sounds of children laughing in the background reminded him where they were and what they were doing. 

He took his hand off the blade. 

“Say what you want about me to my face or behind my back, I don’t give a fuck, but don’t you ever say shit like that in front of my little girl again, do I make myself clear?”

Logan glanced down at where Wade was wrinkling his shirt then back up, adopting an unaffected air that made Wade want to headbutt him again, fuck the consequences. 

“Crystal. Now you wanna get your hands offa me before I cut ‘em off?”

Wade let go and took a step back. 

He ran a hand over his face and grimaced when it came back bloody. Must’ve split his head open on Logan’s thick-ass skull. Great. 

He looked down at the patch of blood on Logan’s torn tank top then at his own abdomen. 

Fuck. 

Logan seemed to notice the problem at the same time as him because he groaned, pushed off from the tree, and stripped his shirts off, using the white undershirt to wipe off his knuckles and abdomen before replacing the flannel and buttoning it up. 

Wade forced himself not to get distracted. He wasn’t that starry-eyed, obsessed fanboy anymore. Wolverine abs held no power over him. 

He focused on his own self, cleaning up what he could see and pulling his phone out to check for anymore blood on his face before going back to the girls. Logan followed, but stayed far enough away from Wade to make it clear they were walking to the same place but they weren’t walking together. 

Logan

“Put your shoes back on, we’re leaving,” he told his daughter as soon as he reached them. She tilted forward, breaking abruptly and nearly toppling over if it hadn't been for Ellie's hand grabbing her elbow.

“But daddy we just got here!” she argued, making no moves to do as he’d said. Wade motioned for Ellie and she let go, skating over to him while continuing to glance back at Gabby, no doubt trying to figure out what was happening.

“I have to go help your sister with something,” he lied, figuring she’d be a little more willing to cooperate if she thought it was for Laura and not just him. He'd figure out the details late, he just needed to be far, far away from that man before he did something that got them all on the news. 

“Okay? So go. I’ll stay here.” She went to skate past him but he put his hand out, stopping her in her tracks. She crossed her arms, pouting.  

“Gabby, go put your shoes on.” 

He could hear Wade having a similarly fruitless conversation with his own daughter a few feet away. Apart from that the park was, thankfully, nearly empty, probably due to it still being early. He picked up her bright yellow sneakers and handed them to her and she promptly threw them on the ground.   

“I don’t wanna! I wanna stay!”

He took a breath, then another for good measure. Tantrums were his least favorite part of parenthood. He had to constantly remind himself that emotional regulation didn’t come easy, and it seemed to be an especially difficult feat for his bloodline, but logic didn’t make dealing with a furious eight year old with claws and a penchant for firestarting any less frustrating. 

“Gabrielle Elizabeth we are leaving. Put your shoes on and go get in the truck. Right. Now.” He didn’t yell; the tone was enough to get his point across. 

Ellie was already sitting on the asphalt, shoving her socked feet angrily into her high tops. Gabby took a seat next to her and followed suit, even going so far as to tie her skate laces together to make them easier to hold – although Logan suspected that had a lot more to do with procrastinating than being helpful because that was definitely a knot he was going to have to cut. 

He waited while they hugged goodbye, clearing his throat pointedly after a full minute had passed. 

“Let’s go. You’ll see each other at school Monday,” he said, ready to be done with the whole disaster of a playdate. 

He made a mental note to start reading the student files, at least the ones of any students that wanted to hang out with his daughter. This could've all been avoided if he'd just done a little research.

“No, they won’t.”

Both girls turned, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, toward Wade. Logan was a little shocked too, if he was being honest. He didn't expect the merc to take it that far, but... it was probably for the best. Not that the girls would see it that way. He watched the intake of breath that was undoubtedly about to precede a tantrum of epic proportions and cut it off before it had a chance to start, snatching Gabby up and carrying her to the truck, roller skates dangling from her hand and banging painfully against his back the entire time. 

Gabby stayed silent the whole way home, staring out the passenger side window and refusing to look in his direction. 

She continued to avoid him while she stomped through the front doors and down the hall, but froze halfway to her room and turned on him slowly. 

Shit. 

He should’ve waited to toss the shirt until she was further away. It’d been tucked between his waistband and overshirt since the park and she hadn’t smelled it, but it came unfolded when he took it out to drop it in a nearby garbage can and filled the air with the undeniable smell of blood. His and Wade’s. 

He should’ve realized when he wiped his knuckles off the bastard’s scent was going to seep into his shirt. It was close enough to Ellie’s to be unmistakable to his daughter’s perceptive nose. 

She turned around and marched over to him, hands on hips, stomping her foot and demanding, “What did you do to Mr. Wade?!”

“Nothing,” he lied.

“You made him bleed!”

“He’s fine. Look, honey, it’s complicated. Mr. Wade,” he struggled with how to phrase it and eventually settled on a vague, “isn’t a good person."

“Yes he is!” She refuted, and started counting off on her fingers. “He buys the fancy paper and crayons and Ellie says he plays dress up and does all the voices at story time and he makes the best blueberry pancakes and doesn’t yell at her for using all the syrup and—“

“Enough Gabby. You’ve made your point, and I hear you, I do, and those are all fine traits, but it’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is! You just don’t like him and you hurt him and now Ellie’s gonna go back to normie school and I’m never going to see her again and it’s all your fault! You ruin everything!” She turned and ran into her bedroom, slamming the heavy oak door behind her and adding a shouted, “I hate you!” for good measure. 

Logan sighed. Wasn’t the first time she’d said it — she was at that age where every “no” felt like the end of the world — but it didn’t make it sting any less. And it wasn’t even his fault! Mostly. Wade threw the first punch. What was he supposed to do?

He knocked on her door a few hours later after giving her a little time to cool off. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected her to come out earlier; he was pretty sure his stubbornness had increased exponentially in the passing down of his genes. She could be even worse than Laura when she set her mind to it. 

“Gabby, honey, dinner’s ready.”

“I’m not hungry,” came the reply through the wood. 

“You have to eat,” he tried to explain. “I made spaghetti.” It was her favorite and a cheap trick that usually worked like a charm. 

“I’m on a hunger strike. Like Gandhi. I’m not eating until you apologize to Mr. Wade and he says Ellie can come back.”

Who was teaching her this stuff? He needed to have a talk with Kitty about the social studies curriculum. 

“Suit yourself. There’ll be a plate for you in the oven when you change your mind.”

Laura was in the kitchen when he returned, sitting on one of the barstools with her feet propped up on the island. He pushed them off as he walked by and sat the untouched plate down. 

“Can you please convince your sister to eat this?”

She looked up from her phone and eyed the food suspiciously. 

“Since when has she needed convincing to eat spaghetti? It’s her favorite.”

Logan sighed and started cleaning up so he had something to do with his hands aside from pulling his hair out. 

“Since she’s decided to go on a hunger strike.”

Laura snorted, fingers typing away again. 

“What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Why do you assume I did something?”

She raised an eyebrow. 

Rude. 

“Met her new best friend’s dad at the park today,” he started, already feeling the beginnings of a headache creeping in behind his eyes. He needed a fucking drink.

“Ellie?”

“Yup. Guess who it is.”

“I dunno, who?” 

“Wade fucking Wilson.”

Laura choked on the sip of water she’d just taken. Once she could breathe again she started laughing, loudly, drawing the looks of a few of the other faculty having dinner. 

“Would you cut it out,” he hissed. “It’s not funny.”

Laura wiped a tear from her eye, pocketing her phone now that the conversation had gotten much more interesting to her apparently. 

“It’s hilarious. Like, she couldn’t have found a worse choice if she’d tried. Maybe like, if Victor has a spawn out there somewhere—“

“God forbid.”

“But damn. The universe really hates you, huh? I thought you were just being overdramatic the last time you said it.” 

She was still laughing at him. 

“Who knew he even had a kid? That’s kind of terrifying.”

“You’re telling me.”

Wade wasn’t a terrible person, and okay, he had saved Logan’s ass (and the rest of the world) on occasion. Rare occasion. But he’d betrayed him just as much, if not more. He was erratic and reckless and certifiably insane. And, based on every interaction Logan had ever had with the man, lived to annoyed the ever loving fuck out of him. 

Back in the early days, Logan had hated his starry-eye hero worship because he didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t someone anyone should be looking up to — especially back then. (He was trying nowadays, but he still wouldn’t suggest anyone picking him as a role model. There were plenty of other actual heroes out there to choose from.) Then, over time, it’d just gotten annoying. Almost a mockery. A constant reminder of all the ways he’d fucked up and all the things he wanted to forget. Wade was constantly bringing all of that to the surface — a metric ton of self-loathing and anger issues — and he’d hated it. 

He couldn’t reconcile the memory of that man with the one who’d socked him in the jaw earlier that day for insulting him in front of his kid. 

“So why the hunger strike?” Laura asked, pulling him out of his ruminations. “It’s not like you’re forbidding her from hanging out with Ellie because of who her dad is.”

He turned to the sink, sorting through the dishes and avoiding that statement. 

“Dad!”

He hunched his shoulders, flinching at the (rightfully) accusatory tone. In his defense, he wasn’t the one forbidding her to come back. 

“I’m not! We had a… disagreement earlier and he may have implied Ellie wouldn’t be coming back when they left.” 

“A disagreement.” 

“Yes.”

“That you started.”

“I didn’t start it! Look, I don’t control what he does with his kid. If he doesn’t want her here that’s his choice.” He dropped the pasta pot in the sink a little too aggressively, splashing sudsy water all over his shirt. Great. 

“This is why you’re not on the welcoming committee,” Laura pointed out unhelpfully. 

“Would you just take your sister the damn food.”

Wade

“You’re not going back there. We’ll find you a different school,” Wade said, tossing Ellie’s book bag and skates in the “shoe corner” by the door. 

The ride home had been tense and quiet, outwardly. Inwardly, his brain was having about twenty seven different conversations at once, all of them culminating in an unanimous what the fuck?! 

“But Papi, she's my best friend in the whole entire universe. And all the other universes. And I like my teachers and the classes don’t suck—“

“Watch your language.”

She rolled her eyes but he chose to pretend not to see, given the day she was having. 

“The classes aren’t booooring and Mr. Logan gives us art for homework! He’s the best and his class is so cool — way better than Mrs. Finley and her stupid worksheets. I didn’t learn aaaaanything from her. Did you know the first drawings are over fifty thousand years old? That’s older than Neanderthals! And that art is an expression of creative and abstract thought and humans didn’t always have the capa- casp– they couldn’t always do that.”

“You’ve been in that school for a week, what the fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Okay, so she was learning things. She learned new things all the time. They’d find another school with some kind of gifted program or something. So what if they were running out of options in New York? They could move; he was flexible. 

“You have to let me go back,” she demanded. 

“I don’t have to let you do anything,” he reminded her. 

“I’m not going back to my old school!” She shouted, firmly putting her foot down.  

“Yeah, no shit. They expelled you; going back’s not an option.” He cringed at himself. That wasn’t her fault and he didn’t want her feeling bad about it. He shouldn’t’ve brought it up. 

Luckily, she didn’t seem to care other than to use it as an excuse to have to stay at Xavier’s.  

“Then why can’t I stay there? I like it there.”

Why indeed. How to explain it to an eight year old? 

“The X-Men and I have a… complicated history. I’m not exactly on their Christmas card list.”

“That didn’t matter before,” she pointed out. Damn her simple logic. 

“I didn’t know you were gonna befriend the daughter of THE X-Man before.”

“Why don’t you like Mr. Logan? He’s sooooooo nice! He lets us eat snacks in class and answers every question and never tells me to put my hand down cuz I asked too many and Gabby says he makes up bedtime songs and makes the best spaghetti in world and—“

“Look, you don’t have to convince me. I like the guy; he’s the one who has a problem with me. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Could you be any more cliched?

We’re one laugh track away from being a sitcom. 

“No! I won’t understand and I won’t forgive you. EVER!” She threw her shoes in the corner and turned, running off toward her bedroom shouting, “You’re the worst!”

Wade could handle a lot of things — stabbings, gunshots, explosions, dismemberment, etc— but that? All because he let his wounded pride and jealousy get the better of him? Absolutely not. He was not about to let this become her villain origin story. 

He would just have to suck it up and deal with the fact that his daughter was bffs with the kid of the guy he’d give his left nut to be considered even cordial acquaintances with. Who still saw him as no better than the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. 

Fan-fucking-tastic. 

He could do this. 

He had to do this. 

For Ellie. 

Maximum effort.  

Logan

The next morning Gabby was still refusing to eat, glaring wordlessly at Logan until he’d finished his omelette, her own growing cold on her plate. 

At least she’d eaten dinner. Laura had reported back that she’d finished her plate and two slices of garlic bread after swearing her sister to secrecy and making Laura promise she’d say it was her that ate the food if asked. She was an effective double-agent, but only when it came to Gabby's well-being. Any other type of secrets torture couldn't pry from her lips.

He caught sight of Gabby stuffing a muffin into her pocket on the way back to her room, so he wasn’t too concerned about the long term effects of her hunger strike. 

She’d get over it. 

Eventually. 

By the time Monday rolled around Logan was starting to think that might’ve been wishful thinking. Her longest silent treatment record before now had been eighteen hours (she wasn’t very good at not talking). As of ten minutes ago they’d just passed the thirty six hour mark and there was no end in sight. 

He knocked on her door, going to check on her after she failed to appear for breakfast. 

“Gabby, sweetheart, you need to come have breakfast before class starts. You’re gonna be late.”

A note slipped under the door, a jaggedly torn page with splotches where it looked like the ink had gotten wet and run. 

I’m not going. I’m sick. 

He sighed. He’d given her the weekend to sulk because he felt guilty, but he was going to have to put his foot down if it started bleeding into her school life. She couldn’t stay mad at him forever. Probably. And it certainly didn't preclude her from learning. She could do both.

“If you’re sick then you need to go see Hank,” he countered, hoping that calling her bluff would work. 

Laura spotted him talking to the closed door and came over. He tilted the paper to show her the message. 

“Just let her have the sick day. She cried herself to sleep last night.”

Logan blinked at her. 

“What?” 

She shrugged. 

“Asked me if this is what pain feels like.”

Jesus fucking Christ he’s a goddamn monster . 

He’d taken bullets that hurt less than hearing that did. He ran a hand through his hair. A fake hunger strike was one thing, he could handle a mad little girl, but a sad one? A heartbroken one? He wasn’t strong enough for that kind of torture.

“All right Gabs, you don’t have to go to class today,” he told her through the door. “Try to eat something and if you need me come get me, even if it’s the middle of class.” He waited but, as expected, there was no response. 

“I love you.”

Again, crickets. 

Laura patted him on the shoulder sympathetically and walked with him all the way to his class room. 

“You know you have to fix this, right?” She asked on the way.

“Yeah Laura, I know. I will.” 

He didn’t know how he was going to convince Wade to even speak to him after Saturday’s debacle, let alone be convinced to let Ellie come back, but he’d make it happen, somehow. 

There were still a few minutes before the start of class, off-campus students still trickling in, so he wandered over to the main area where he could see the new arrivals through the window, just in case. 

He didn’t expect to see her, but a dad could hope. 

Logan: Go tell your sister to get dressed and get to class. Her friend is here. 

He texted Laura. He’d missed Ellie getting dropped off, but he caught her scent on the way back to his classroom and turned just in time to see her going into math. 

If he believed in a merciful god he would’ve gotten down on his knees and thanked them. 

Laura: Seriously?! Omg she’s gonna be so happy. That was fast. Good job 

As much as he’d like to take credit for it, he couldn’t. 

Logan: Wasn't me. I didn’t do anything yet. 

Laura: You know you still have to, right? 

He knew that was going to be her reply before he read it, and yeah, technically, he should still make the effort.

Or maybe Wade was cool just forgetting it ever happened and moving on. Had she thought of that?

…

…

Laura: DAD

Laura: you HAVE to apologize

She didn’t have to be right all the time. It was goddamn annoying. 

Logan: I know. I will. 

Laura: you said that earlier 

Logan: I mean it. 

He did. He owed it to Gabby to do what he could to make up for Saturday. Sweeping it under the rug wasn’t an option — as much as he wished it was. He was over a century old, he could get the fuck over himself and apologize to the most annoying man in existence for the sake of his daughter’s happiness. It was a small price to pay. 

Logan: Go wake your sister. I’ve gotta work. 

The day dragged with the weight of what he needed to do hanging on him. At least Gabby was talking to him again. He caught her before class and had a heart to heart. The upside of childhood dramatics was that once they were resolved, they tended to be forgotten about quickly. One of these days he was gonna do something to actually make her hold a grudge, but he figured he probably had at least until her teenage years for that. 

He wasn’t exactly cut out for this – parenthood – but he was trying. 

The end of the school day found him loitering on the lawn, scanning the group of parents picking up their kids, looking for one in particular. He spotted him standing off to the side of the crowd, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and hood pulled up over his head looking more like he was on the lam from the government than waiting for his daughter to get out of school. 

Logan walked over to him. 

“Can we talk?” he asked, skipping over the pleasantries. 

“Not necessary,” Wade responded, not bothering to even glance his way.  

Logan huffed and turned to leave — if he didn’t want an apology it was no skin off Logan’s back — then caught sight of Gabby glaring at him from the entranceway. Her death stare coulda given Summers a run for his money. 

He held up his hands and sighed again, turning back around. 

“Apparently it is.” 

Wade moved subtly to look around him and he could tell Gabby was still there by the way the man pursed his lips, trying not to laugh. 

“Go on then.”

“I apologize for Saturday. What I said was out of line and the violence was uncalled for.”

Wade snorted, finally looking him in the face.

“Wow, how heartfelt and succinct. Did you rehearse that in the mirror this morning along with your growls and scary mean face? Yeah, that one, exactly.”

Logan took a step forward and Wade leaned to the side, looking around him with a grin and a wave, presumably at one of the girls. 

Right. 

They were in public. 

And he was supposed to be apologizing.  

Why did this man get under his skin so goddamn bad?

“Do you accept the damn apology or not?” He snapped, quickly losing his patience with the whole situation. 

“Well when you put it like that,” Wade said, tilting his head.

“Wilson.”

“Yes, okay, I accept. I don’t think I’ve ever been bullied into being apologized to,” he said, making Logan feel a little bit bad about it until he added, “not gonna lie, it’s kinda hot.”

“You’re disgusting,” Logan replied automatically, falling back into their old verbal routines as if no time had passed. It was easy and predictable and didn’t leave him feeling wrong-footed like kept happening with this new, parental version of Wade.  

“Kink shaming? In the year of our lord twenty twenty-five? What a boomer.”

Logan opened his mouth to respond — something along the lines of “shut the fuck up” — then closed it abruptly as something small and squealing came barreling into him at breakneck speed. He caught her before she could lose her balance on impact. 

Following closely behind was her newly reunited best friend, also talking too fast to understand, switching between Spanish and English nearly every other word.

He tuned her out to try to decipher what his own daughter was saying, getting nowhere trying to listen to them both at once. 

“—can I? Please, please, please, please, please ? I promise I’ll eat dinner and go to bed on time and —”

“Slow down. What are you asking?”

“Can I spend the night at Ellie’s? Please please pleeeeeaaase?”

“No,” was his gut response. He should’ve given it some thought though because as soon as the word left his mouth he could see the storm clouds brewing in her eyes. He’d just gotten back on her good side, he wasn’t trying to throw that away just yet. “It’s a school night,” he added, placatingly. 

“It woulda been the weekend if you’d’ve been nicer,” she grumbled. 

“Watch it,” he warned. Just because she was right didn’t mean she was entitled to backtalk. 

He heard Wade snort again and shot the man a glare. 

“Wow, the resemblance is striking. Guess we know who had the dominant gene for facial expressions,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Why does it matter anyway?” Gabby continued to argue, squirming in his arms. He let her down and she immediately linked arms with Ellie, presenting a united front. “She goes here too, we both have to get up early.”

“And you’ll both be exhausted because you stayed up late.”

“Nuh-uh,” they replied in unison.

“We won’t, Mr. Logan, I pinky-promise,” Ellie added, holding her pinky up and offering up a sweet, toothy smile. “Pleeeeeeaaaasssee ?”

She turned on Wade when Logan didn’t cave to the pressure.  

“Please Papi? Can she?”

Wade bit his lip, looking like he was close to crumbling under the heavy gaze of the two sets of pleading eyes. 

Yeah, Logan was not trusting that man to enforce a bedtime. 

“Why don’t you stay over here?” He offered before Wade could answer. “There’s plenty of extra room and you’ll be guaranteed to be on time for school in the morning.”

Wade made an annoyed noise. 

“You do know mercenary work pays, right? Like, a lot. Do you think I live in a van?”

For once, Logan hadn’t actually meant to insult him. He just thought it made more sense for a sleepover to be at the mansion if it was gonna be on a school night. Logically, that was the better choice. 

“I wasn’t implying—“

“You definitely were. Ow.” Wade rubbed his forearm, looking down at where Ellie had pinched him. They had a silent conversation in facial expressions that appeared to Logan like he lost. 

Wade forced a smile in place of his scowl. 

Well, at least Logan wasn’t the only one getting bullied by a child. 

“How about a compromise? Gabby can come over for dinner tonight and we can plan something longer for a weekend? Sometime. In the far-off future.”

There was a pause while the three of them thought about his suggestion. Logan’s gut response, again, was to say no, but then he was the bad guy, and it wasn’t like Wade was going to host a mercenary potluck with his kid present. 

Probably. 

The odds were low. Right? 

Besides, Logan had an entire mansion of mutants at his disposal, most of which owed him at least one favor. Wade was an idiot but he couldn’t be that stupid. 

He didn’t like the concept of letting her out of his sight in general, even with people he did trust, and Wade Wilson was certainly not on that very short list. 

He blamed the twin hopeful, imploring gazes for what he said next. 

“Why don’t we all go out to dinner tonight, then we’ll see about the rest.”

He flinched at the high pitched, in sync shrieks of excitement from the two girls.

He looked over at Wade when there was no response. He looked like he was having a mental crisis — actually, Logan had seen him having a mental crisis, this looked more like he’d just walked in on Beast taking a shower. His wide eyes were blinking at Logan, mouth slightly ajar.  

Deadpool shocked speechless? That was a fuckin’ first. 

He snapped his fingers in front of Wade’s face. 

“That good with you?”

Wade shook himself out of his stupor. 

“Yeah, yeah that’s fair. Uh,” he looked down at his watch, then tugged on the sleeves of his hoodie in what, if Logan didn’t know any better, he would’ve said was a nervous gesture. “I look like the unibomber right now so, uh, five o’clock?” He turned to address Gabby. “Whaddu like to eat? Burgers? Tacos? Sushi?”

“Sushi!”

“That. Was not the answer I was expecting, but I’m down. Elliebear?”

“Yes! Can we go to the place with the goldfish?” She turned to Gabby excitedly without waiting for a response. “They’re as long as your arm! And there’s biiiiig fountain right in the middle of the restaurant.”

“Our old house used to have a koi pond when I was little and the fish could fit my whole foot in their mouths.”

The girls traded fish facts while he and Wade finalized the details, then said goodbye for the hour they’d be separated as if they were each going off to war on different sides of the battle. You woulda thought they’d been separated for two years, not two days. 

It was good to see Gabby smiling again after the weekend they’d had. It wasn’t until after Wade and Ellie had left that it really sunk in what he’d done in order to put that smile on her face. 

He was about to have dinner, in public, voluntarily, with Wade fucking Wilson. 

What had he done to this universe to make it hate him so goddamn much?

Chapter Text

Wade

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.  

Why? Why did it have to be him? Wade's big fat stupid crush was back with a vengeance. Logan had gone from leather daddy to girl dad over the past decade and somehow it was a step up?! How was that fair?

The only thing parenthood had given Wade was an inferiority complex (and a new sense of purpose and a perfect little angel, yadda yadda yadda, but that was beside the point). 

The point was: Logan was a fucking DILF and Wade was going to lose his fucking mind pretending not to notice or care. Sure, he was still a grade A dick, but Wade liked dicks. Especially big, thick, hairy ones that had a proclivity for choking him. 

Also. Who in the fuck gave him the right to look that good in a goddamn tweed vest? He should look like a nerdy old man, not the kind of professor that had Wade hot for teacher, ready to get down on his knees and beg for extra credit. It. Wasn’t. Fair. 

He tore off his faded hoodie and ratty jeans and stared hopelessly into the void of his closet, still trying to get his bearings. 

He could be normal about this. He’d made some flirty remarks, sure, but he flirted with everybody. It woulda been weird if he hadn’t. Not like Logan took any of it seriously anyway. 

You brought up kinks on a school lawn. 

He… did do that. Yes. But! That’s the kind of behavior he’d expected from Wade anyway and Wade was never one to disappoint. 

Okay, lies, he disappointed people all the time, but again, beside the point. 

We’re supposed to be better than that now. Told him we’d changed but we’re still the same annoying, horny, piece of shit he despised a decade ago. 

Doesn’t matter what we do, he’s never gonna see us as anything else. 

He scrubbed his hands over his thighs a few times, slapped himself, then grabbed a pair of tight black jeans from the dresser. 

Get it together, Wilson. 

He opened another drawer and rummaged through his half folded shirts before returning to the closet, trying to narrow it down between a sweater or a cardigan. 

It’s not our body he doesn’t like, it’s our personality. Can’t hide that with a sweater. 

Probably our body too, though. 

Fuck. They were right. What was he doing giving a shit about what he was going to wear? Logan sure as hell wasn’t looking, he was too busy trying not to stab Wade in the face in front of his kid. 

He should just wear something comfortable since it was probably going to be the only thing that was during this disaster of a dinner. 

He’d eaten at tables with literal zombies and he was pretty sure this meal was going to be more unpleasant than that. 

It’s fine. You’ve survived actual torture. You can handle one measly dinner.  

Wade repeated that mantra silently over and over while they drove to the restaurant, again as they took their seats, and a few more times for good measure while they were handed their menus and brought their drinks. 

His foolproof strategy was to ignore Logan’s presence completely and focus solely on the girls. 

Thank Kirby for kids. There was no room for awkward silences or embarrassing faux pas with the two of them chatting about any and everything non-stop from the moment they saw each other in the parking lot.  

You got this. 

Easy peasy. Wolverine who? 

Ellie got up on her knees in the booth to lean over the table and see what her friend was pointing at on the menu. 

“Butt in the seat, please,” he gently scolded her. She turned her pout on him. 

“But I can’t see.”

Logan wrapped his arm around Gabby’s waist and scooted her closer to his side then nodded his head at Ellie to come over to their side of the table. 

She crawled into the booth next to Gabby and they got back to pouring over the menu, Gabby pointing out the Japanese characters and how they were pronounced, tugging on her father’s sleeve every now and then when she came upon a word she didn’t know. 

Wade’s chest tightened at the picture of it. 

Sonovabitch. He’d been doing so good. 

He wasn’t alone. 

He had plenty of friends and people he considered closer than family. When Ellie was a baby he’d had people around constantly — Preston and Adset, Tony, Neena and Inez — all the company a guy could ask for. He’d even had a partner for a few months there, but he and Rachel were destined to be a shooting star, not a sun, burning bright but short lasting. Wade still considered her a close friend. 

He wasn’t alone. 

But every now and then, he got lonely. 

It was one of the reasons he’d talked himself into enrolling Ellie in Xavier’s. She had some friends at her old schools, but she outgrew them so fast. It wasn’t their fault, but they just couldn’t keep up and she had to keep so many secrets. At least at Xavier’s she didn’t have to lie about what she was, even if she was still likely to breeze through the classes just the same as the public schools. 

She deserved friends who could understand her differences and now she had one and Wade wanted to be happy for her, he did. And he was. 

It was just…

Of all the parents, did it have to be him?

Wade wasn’t stupid; he had no illusions that he was going to find true love at a PTA meeting, but friendship? That was a reasonable expectation, wasn’t it? 

Wouldn't matter who she made friends with; none of those parents want to hang out with Deadpool. We’re lucky she found one that’s even letting his kid be near us. Half of them would run screaming. 

The other half would call the cops.  

“Papi?”

He tuned back into the conversation at the table, ignoring the frowny look Logan was directing at him. 

“Sorry pumpkin, what was that?”

“Nani ni shi—” she turned to Logan. 

“Shimasu ka,” he finished for her, slow and articulate so she could imitate. 

She tried again from the top. 

"Nani ni shimasu ka?” 

He wanted to melt into the floor. 

Goddamnit he refused to be charmed by this man and his stupid polyglot skills and gentle teaching style. Abso-fucking-lutely not. 

“That means “what would you like” in Japanese,” Ellie told him excitedly.  

“Does it?” He asked, pretending not to know so that she could take pride in teaching him. “How’re you gonna answer? Have you decided yet?”

“I like what I got last time, the one with the bananas. But the Hawaii roll has mango in it.”

“So try something new,” he suggested, though he knew exactly what her answer was going to be. They had this discussion every single time. 

“But what if it’s gross?”

“How ‘bout you get the ‘nanas and I’ll get the mango and we can split it so we each get half. That’s what me ‘n Laura do,” Gabby chimed in with a solution. 

Laura. He’d heard Logan say the name at the park, but he’d been too focused on everything else for it to sink in. Now though… now he had questions. 

“Laura; that’s your sister, right?” He directed the question at Gabby, still trying to uphold his vow to ignore Logan as much as possible. 

“Yeah. We're like, the same, but she’s old.”

“She’s eighteen,” Logan corrected in a tone that said this was also a familiar script. 

Gabby mouthed the word “old” to Wade behind her hand. 

He would’ve laughed if his brain wasn’t too busy trying to wrap itself around that number. Eighteen? He had missed that Logan had a kid for eighteen years??  

They’d crossed paths only a handful of times in the last eight years so it was reasonable he didn’t know about Gabby, and Wade had been out of the business entirely for the last five or so (not that he didn’t try to keep up with the gossip), but eighteen? He’d spent six months solid with the man in ‘09 chasing down a black market operation auctioning off mutant body parts and he hadn’t said a word about having a toddler at home. Or a partner to go back to. 

In fact, Wade distinctly remembered him whoring his way through half of Madripoor, because it was the first time he’d seen Logan leave a bar with a man. The confirmation that Logan’s vehement and constant rejection wasn’t because he was straight, but one hundred percent because he didn’t like Wade specifically had been a difficult pill to swallow. So he’d chased it with a bunch of others, and some inhalants, and a few injectables he wasn’t super proud of. (If he was being honest, he’d admit the mission itself might’ve fucked him up a bit — seeing all those mutilations and abuses — but he was rarely honest with himself if he could help it). Needless to say it’d been a rough six months. 

They’d completed the mission though. That counted for something. 

“It’s a long story,” Logan offered in explanation. Wade valiantly refrained from asking any more questions. 

Time and place. 

“What about you, Mr. Wade? What’re you getting?” 

He put on a smile and turned his attention back to the girls, where it was supposed to be. 

“You seem like you have good taste, what do you think I should get?” It was worth the risk of eating something disgusting for the look of pure joy on her face.

She studied the menu carefully for a minute, looking like a detective pouring over some case files, then started asking him questions, tapping her pointer finger against her little chin as she did so. 

“Sweet or spicy?”

“Spicy.”

“Crunchy or soft?”

“Crunchy.”

“Fish or crustacean?”

“Fish.”

“Pink or green?”

That one threw him, but he was nothing if not the king of improv; he could roll with it. Besides, she obviously knew what she was doing. 

“Green.” 

“Orchard roll,” she declared, folding her arms as if she’d just solved the case of the century. 

He scanned the menu for the choice she made. It actually sounded pretty good. He hadn’t tried that one before, usually content to order whatever two things Ellie wanted to try and eat the one she inevitably didn’t like. Nothing could beat the crazy monkey roll so far. Banana was her fruit of the month, and had been for the last four months in a row. No offense to bananas, but he really hoped she moved on soon. There were only so many ways one could include them into a meal and he was running out of novel recipes. 

He closed his menu and slid it under Gabby’s. 

“I trust your judgement, sensi.”

While the girls went to wash their hands, Logan flagged down their waiter — a young girl who couldn’t’ve been a day over twenty— to explain that his daughter was teaching her friend Japanese and was it possible for her to order in the language. The girl obviously found it as devastatingly attractive and endearing as Wade did, only she didn’t risk a broken jaw for saying so, so could appropriately coo and fawn while she promised to go get someone she called “Mama G” to take their order. 

Wade hoped she tripped on her way back, then felt bad about it and vowed to himself to tip an extra 10% for his pettiness; 15% if she actually did trip. 

Mama G turned out to be about three feet tall and one hundred years old with the sweet round face and kind eyes every grandmother should have. Wade kind of wanted to steal her. 

She was suitably impressed with Gabby’s near fluency when ordering, Ellie not falling too far behind. He was pretty sure she’d have the language mastered by the end of the month if she put her mind to it. He was lucky she hadn’t picked one he didn’t know yet. It was only a matter of time. 

"Arigatou gozaimasu," they said in unison, handing the old woman the menus.  

It was so fucking cute he could’ve died. 

And then he was pretty sure he did die because the waitress — also overcome by the two most precious and adorable creatures to ever live — looked over at Logan and told him in Japanese, “you have a beautiful family.” 

And he didn’t fucking correct her. 

The tips of his ears turned pink as he thanked her for the compliment — not that Wade was looking.

Yeah, sure, it’d be way more of a hassle to explain “no actually, this one is mine and the other one belongs to this guy I hate with every fiber of my being but am tolerating because I’m trying to be a good dad and also my eight year old bullied me into it,” but still. That was going to haunt his fucking dreams, he already knew it. 

Ellie came back over to his side of the table once the food arrived. He pretended it was because she missed him, but he knew it was really so she could more easily steal his edamame. 

The conversation lulled as they tucked in, but, as usual, Wade could only make it a few bites without needing to yap, otherwise his brain would keep vacillating between spiraling about being alone at the end of the world and weighing the pros and cons of spring vs. autumn weddings.  

“Where did you learn Japanese?” He asked Gabby, insanely curious but trying to stay nonchalant about it. 

“Japan.”

Wade smacked his forehead with his palm. 

“Of course. How silly of me to ask.”

“That’s where we lived when I was a baby.  We moved here when I started school.”

Well that made him feel a little better about not being in the loop on the baby gossip. He hadn’t taken a job on that side of the world in ages. 

He wanted to ask more, like who “we” was? Her and Logan? Her, Laura, and Logan? Where was her mother? Who was her mother? He wasn’t quite stupid enough to ask though. 

Instead, he bit his tongue while Ellie took the reins, steering the conversation towards what kinds of food and cartoons Gabby grew up with and how they were similar or different from her own experience. 

“Can we go look at the fishes pleeeease?” Ellie begged as soon as their plates were cleared. He’d been expecting it; they were her favorite part of the restaurant after all. 

“We look with our eyes not with our hands,” Wade told her at the same time he heard Logan instruct Gabby, “hands in pockets.”

He caught Logan’s eye then looked away quickly before he could do something stupid like swoon. 

Get a fucking grip. 

“Stay out of the way of the waiters,” he added as they started to skip off, hand in hand. 

“We will!” 

“So…” Wade started when the silence the girls’ absence brought shifted from comfortable to awkward. 

Logan grunted, taking a sip of his drink to avoid being the one to start a conversation. 

Fine. I’ll do it myself.

“They’ve got a math test coming up this Friday.” 

Another non-committal grunt. 

“Promised Elliebean I’d take her to get ice cream when she passes, and we both know she’s gonna ask to invite Gabby.”

This time Logan looked at him. No grunt, no hum, just a slow and trepidacious parting of his lips that told Wade everything he needed to know. (A yes isn’t a yes unless it’s enthusiastic and Logan looked anything but).

He still hates our guts. 

He’s not gonna trust us with his kid. Fucking idiot. 

“Right. Nevermind. Forget about it.” Wade shook his head, trying to clear it. 

“It’s not you,” he said, hesitantly. 

“Yeah, no, sure it’s not. Never heard that before.” Wade tried not to sound bitter but his mouth apparently didn’t get the memo. Even to his own ears that was pathetic.  

“Look–”

“It’s all good man,” he cut Logan off before he could say anything else. Wade was already on the verge of taking his Smith & Wesson out for a taste test. 

I’m so done with this fucking day. 

“She might not even ask. I would say maybe she won’t pass, but I think she’s already getting bored with the material, so fat chance. The ice cream budget is through the roof, let me tell you. Might as well change my name to congress for how often I have to increase the debt ceiling.”

Logan looked like he wanted to argue, but the girls interrupted what was bound to be a paper thin excuse with demands for dessert and the subject was, thankfully, dropped. 

Logan

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” Logan asked, tapping his daughter’s Switch as he walked past later that night. She was in one of the X-Men Only common rooms that had kind of unofficially become the Howlett family room. And, somehow, the place Remy’s cats could be found anytime they were missing. Logan swore they kept the door shut but somehow the fuckers found a way. He suspected Kitty had a hand in it. She always laughed way too hard at him when he was tearing the kitchen apart looking for the lint rollers. 

He took a seat on the couch, moving one of the aforementioned devils out of the way to sit next to his kid. 

She pulled her headphones down around her shoulders and sat the console in her lap. 

“Why? I’m gonna fail anyway.”

“Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

She leveled him with a look that said “wanna bet?” 

“It is. Best I got on the practice tests was a D. I don’t get it. None of it makes any sense.” She picked the game back up, but he plucked it out of her hands and sat it on the coffee table before she could take the pause off. 

“Did you ask for help?”

She shook her head. 

“I bet if you asked, Summers could explain it in another way.”

She scoffed. 

“He never calls on me when I raise my hand and it doesn’t matter how he explains it. It’s too confusing.”

He flipped through the binder laying abandoned on the couch to see what they were working with. The worksheet instructions were a helluva lot different than how he learned it. Maybe if he showed her that way it’d make more sense. 

“How ‘bout we grab a snack and you give me one hour and see what we can get through, ‘kay bub?” He negotiated. It was worth a shot.

She looked longingly at her Switch, then back at the binder, eventually conceding with a long suffering sigh. 

“Fiiiiine. I want Cheetos.”

“Hey Ellie, can you hang back for a sec?” Logan caught her at the end of class the next day before she and Gabby could disappear for lunch. 

They both stopped at his desk, looking nervous. 

“No one’s in trouble,” he told them, and watched suspiciously as they both breathed a sigh of relief. 

Should someone be in trouble? 

He shelved the thought for later, wanting to deal with one issue at a time. He’d come back to that. 

“Go on, she’ll catch up,” he told his daughter, waiting until he heard her footsteps leaving down the hallway. She knew better than to listen in at doors. He turned his attention back to Ellie. 

“I heard you’re pretty good at math.”

Ellie shrugged the shrug of a kid who was used to downplaying her accomplishments. It was tough being at the bottom of the class, but his time teaching had shown him that it was just as hard, if not worse, for the kids who were at the top. Especially if it was every class. He knew part of her mutation was accelerated learning and skill acquisition; he’d witnessed it in action at the restaurant yesterday and he could tell she was catching on to his lessons a lot faster than the rest of the kids. 

He wondered how it’d been for her at her old school, if she’d been bullied or teased because of it. His heart ached at the thought of her dulling her shine just to fit in.   

“Gabby’s having a bit of trouble wrapping her head around the new stuff you guys’ve been learning. Thought you might be willing to study together and give her some tips?” Last night hadn’t been a total wash, but he could tell she was still struggling. He thought it might be more helpful coming from a peer. 

“Yeah, sure— wait,” she cut herself off, suddenly realizing she had negotiating power. “If I agree, can she come get ice cream with me and Papi on Friday?”

Most of the time it was impossible to imagine that she was Wilson’s kid, every now and then though…

He was tempted to say no, but those big brown eyes were working overtime and he’d already made a kid cry once this week, he wasn’t trying to do it again any time soon.  

“If you both pass, then yes, she can go.”

“Yes!” She pumped her fist in the air, bouncing up and down a few times before turning around, tripping, turning it into a pirouette, then skipping the rest of the way out the door. 

Yeah, definitely Wade’s. 

“And no cheating,” he hollered after her, just in case she’d inherited that tendency too. She turned around, clearly indignant at the suggestion. 

“‘Course not.”

Friday found his coffee break disrupted by two very excited children bursting into his office between classes to show off their grades. 

He’d been holding his breath all morning, dreading the disappointment if Gabby didn’t pass. He’d already half convinced himself to let her go regardless, considering how much work she’d put in over the past few days. Thankfully, it didn’t have to come to that. Looked like all the hard work paid off. 

Gabby waved three sheets of stapled paper in front of his face too close and too fast to see. He plucked it out of her hands. 

At the top, near her name, was a red C+ with a scrawled note: excellent improvement. Keep up the good work! 

He grinned and pulled her into his lap for a hug. 

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” He let her go when she started squirming and turned his attention to her companion and the paper she held in her own hands. 

“How ‘bout you?”

“I passed,” she said dismissively, obviously trying not to steal Gabby’s thunder. Gabby was having none of it. 

“She got an A cuz she’s suuuuper smart. Probably smarter than Uncle Hank.”

Logan laughed. 

“Don’t let ‘em hear you say that. He’ll steal her to be his new lab assistant.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Ellie said, shaking her head. 

“It is. You should be proud of yourself. Can I see?”

He held out his hand and she passed over the test, big red A- circled at the top. He skimmed through it, noticing a much different set of equations than what he’d just looked at. Good. 

Summers could be shit a lot of things, but teaching wasn’t one of them. 

He handed it back to her. 

“Good job, kiddo. Looks like you guys earned your ice cream.”

Wade was easy to spot, standing just far enough away from the crowd to not be noticed but close enough not to stand out. 

Logan was sure ninety-nine percent of these parents had no idea who he was outside of the suit, but he guessed it wasn’t a chance he wanted to take. 

Deadpool wasn’t exactly a villain, but the name did carry some pretty negative connotations for a lot of people. Even when it wasn’t always warranted. Logan knew he’d gotten caught up with S.H.I.E.L.D. a while back and they’d exploited the fuck outta that “partnership,” pinning him with the kinds of jobs most superheroes didn’t want to get their hands (and reputations) dirty with. He’d even taken the fall for a few fuck ups Logan knew for a fact Wade’d had nothing to do with, but they guys who did had precious brand deals and lucrative endorsements to look out for.  

Logan got it. Sometimes there had to be a scapegoat, and as far as he knew, Wade had been a willing participant to the destruction of his own already pretty terrible reputation for the greater good. (Whatever the fuck that was). 

Didn’t make it right. 

He made his way over to Wade, ignoring the stares and whispers that usually kept him hidden away in his office during pick up time.   

“Ellie said you’re okay with Gabs coming over for a couple hours after the ice cream. That true, or is she just manifesting?” Wade asked, in lieu of greeting. The girls were still inside; Gabby had wanted to grab some stuff from her room before leaving. 

“An hour, but yeah. They earned it.” He still didn’t love the idea, but a deal was a deal. “Your girl’s quite the negotiator.”

Wade laughed, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, it’s terrible. Manipulative too; she can cry on command, don’t let her fool you. It’d be a problem if I wasn’t gonna just spoil her anyway.”

Logan bit his tongue. Wasn’t his job to tell someone else how to parent — even if he was setting himself up for failure when she entered the hellscape of teenagerhood. 

Logan had learned that through trial and a helluva lot of error with Laura. He’d wanted to give her everything she could possibly want after they’d rescued her, and he had, but in making up for others' mistakes he’d just made his own by letting her get away with murder (not literally, thank god — not that there hadn’t been some close calls). Eventually he’d learned that sometimes you really had to say no and stick to it. 

But not always. 

You had to know when to pick your battles. (He was still working on that part).

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, hitting the new contact icon and handing it to Wade, who took it while slapping a hand over his heart and gasping. 

“Why Wolvie, are you asking for my digits? How forward of you.”

Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Just put your fuckin’ phone number in there, asshole.” 

Wade smirked like it was his utmost joy in life to be annoying. 

“Should I text myself so I have yours too?”

“Gabs knows it if she needs to call,” he said, snatching the phone out of Wade’s hands before he could do anything else. It was Wade’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Seriously? What if she’s having an allergic reaction or something and I need to get in touch with you?”

“She doesn’t have allergies. She has a healing factor,” he countered. 

“What if she gets kidnapped?”

Logan took an involuntary step forward. 

“Is there a fuckin’ chance you would get my daughter kidnapped, Wilson?” He asked, voice nearly a growl. Wade held up his hands and took a step back. 

“What? No. I’m being hyperbolic. Calm your hairy tits. It’s fine, whatever,” he rushed out. He put his hands down, stuffing them in his pockets and shrugging. “You’ll have to give it to me eventually. Unless you’d prefer all sleepovers to be held at casa del Deadpool.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at Wade, but the look had lost its effect a long time ago. 

He took his phone back out and sent a text with a single word Logan, rolling his eyes at the plethora of red and black heart emojis Wade had put next to his name.

He’d change it later. 

“Don’t fuckin’ abuse it.”

Wade widened his eyes and placed a hand on his chest, a caricature of innocence. 

“Me? I would never. Maximum three dick pics a day, scouts honor.” He held up three fingers in a boy scout salute. Logan resisted the urge to cut them off. Just barely. 

Snikt. 

The claws came out as a deterrent anyway and Wade quickly stuffed his hands back in his pockets. 

“Learn to take a fucking joke, you prude. I promise not to contact you unless it’s important. Cross my heart.”

The sound of two sets of running feet hit his ears and he quickly put the claws away before Gabby could see. 

It was decided that Logan would pick Gabby up. He wanted to see Wade’s place firsthand, not just from some satellite image — not that he’d used his access to top secret surveillance technology to look already. That would be illegal. And wrong. Definitely not something he would use a favor for… 

The house was big, but cozier than it had looked from the outside. It was set back a little ways down an inauspicious dirt road and appeared to be built on a few cleared acres – though Logan knew the actual property line stretched for some fifteen acres on every side. Which was 100% common knowledge that could be found AVAILABLE TO THE PUBLIC on file with the county courthouse.  

Wade hadn’t been lying about merc work being lucrative, apparently. 

Seemed a bit excessive for just two people, but Logan lived in a fuckin’ mansion, so who was he to judge? 

Wade opened the door before he could knock, courtesy, he assumed, of the elaborate security system Logan spotted when he walked in. The keypad by the door was distinctive in its design.

“STARK tech?” Logan nodded toward the door. 

“Friend of a friend, owed me a few favors. You should see the washing machine, it puts the Jetsons to shame.” 

Wade turned and walked further into the house, Logan following behind, taking in his surroundings. The walls were bright and warm, covered in framed photographs and crayon drawings, and little cork boards with keepsakes pinned in no discernible order. 

He led them to a large kitchen with yellow walls and white marble countertops. The long wooden kitchen table was covered in knick-knacks and papers with just the one end cleared enough for two people to eat at. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” Wade asked, nervously gesturing toward a fridge that was covered in artwork, flyers, and report cards, the test Logan had been shown earlier that day stuck right in the center of it all with a magnetic Captain America shield. 

“I’m good,” he answered distractedly, his brain trying to figure out how to fit this new information into the profile he already had of Wade Wilson. 

“Right. I’ll go grab Gabby.” He pointed his thumb in the direction of the hall, turning to leave. 

“Hang on.” Logan put a hand on his arm to stop him going. Wade stared down at it, then back at him. 

He let go, rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Look, I’m sorry. For real.” He looked around again, feeling like he was in some weird alternate reality. “I’m not the same person I was a decade ago, obviously neither are you. I shouldn’t’ve assumed the other day.”

Wade shrugged in that same self-deprecating way Ellie had when Logan had asked her if she was good at math. 

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect it of me either.”

Something annoyingly soft inside him wanted to say something nicer, but honestly, who would’ve expected he was capable of this? 

“Thanks for not pulling Ellie out of school,” he said instead. “Gabby was real torn up about it.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of other ways we’re fucking them up, no need to put our past issues on them too.”

That was… a shockingly mature thing to hear coming out of his mouth. He couldn’t argue. 

“Agreed.”

“As far as I’m concerned, Gabby’s welcome here any time.”

“She’ll be happy to hear I didn’t ruin her life then.”

Wade laughed, tilting his head back, one arm around his stomach. 

“Oh man, they’re so dramatic at this age, aren’t they? Ellie legit packed a bag to run away before I told her I’d changed my mind. Don’t know how she thought she was gonna hoof it all the way to Westchester in her converse; those things are not meant for long distances, but I admire the determination.”

Logan chuckled a little too, glad to hear he wasn’t the only one who had to deal with the overdramatic consequences to their — admittedly a little excessive — reactions. 

“Gabs went on a hunger strike,” he offered in camaraderie.

Wade’s responding laugh echoed throughout the kitchen, eyes bright with mirth as he looked at Logan and shook his head. 

Did he always have those dimples? 

Logan frowned. Where the fuck had that thought come from? 

Luckily, Wade didn’t notice, already walking away from him to go grab the girls.

Chapter Text

Wade

After the dinner from awkward hell, things got less tense. Wade was still pretty sure Logan hated him, but he was trusted enough to watch Gabby for a few hours at a time, so that was something.

A win is a win. 

They’d been taking turns the past few evenings chaperoning trips to the skatepark after school to indulge the girls’ new favorite sport – sport? Did it count as a sport if they were just skating around in a circle for hours at a time? New favorite hobby? Wade didn’t know, nor did he care. He was too busy praying to whatever deity would listen that they would get sick of it soon and take up video games until the fucking cold front that was the whole month of February passed and gave way to some warm Spring weather. 

He was so sick of dry skin and driving through snow. Where were the teleporters Star Trek promised? He blamed Picard. 

He left the girls on their hundred and ninety-ninth lap to grab Ellie’s water bottle from the car, even though they were about to leave as soon as Logan showed up and then it would just be one more thing for him to carry back, but her wish was his command. He came back to a sight that made his blood freeze in his veins (even more than the frigid wind).  

The girls had stopped skating and were talking to a young woman with long dark hair in ripped jeans and a leather jacket. He watched in horror and panic as she knelt down in front of them and reached for Gabby. 

I was gone for two seconds. What the fuck!?

Logan’s going to kill us. 

Shut up shut up shut up. 

“Hey there, stranger danger. How ‘bout you back the fuck up before I’m forced to do something drastic,” he said as he reached them, putting a hand on Gabby’s shoulder and moving her behind him. She tugged on his arm. 

“But Mr. Wade—”

“Just a sec, pumpkin,” he interrupted, keeping his attention on the stranger. 

She cocked her head at him, looking him up and down with narrowed green eyes outlined in a thick layer of kohl. He’d compliment the bitchin’ smokey-eye, if she wasn’t a kidnapper. 

“What’re you gonna do, shoot me?” she asked, skepticism dripping from her words. 

Wade took a few steps forward, making her step back and putting more distance between her and the kids. 

He flashed a reassuring smile. 

“Of course not. I would never bring a firearm to a playground. That's irresponsible.” He lowered his voice, all mirth and levity leaving his tone. “And loud. Draws too much attention. Knives on the other hand…” he casually pulled the blade he affectionately referred to as “baby knife” from up his sleeve and twirled it between his fingers. “Those are quiet but just as effective, that’s why they’re my favorite (but don’t tell the guns).”

The girl smirked. Lifting her fist at him. 

“Mine too.” 

Snikt. 

Two long silver claws slid from between her knuckles. 

Wade immediately breathed a sigh of relief and put his knife away. 

“Christ on a motherfucking cracker. Laura, I presume?”

The smirk turned into a grin, or maybe it just seemed more friendly now that he knew she wasn’t trying to kidnap the girls. He knew those eyes were familiar. 

Actually, now that he really looked, it was kinda unnerving how much she and Gabby looked alike.  

“What gave it away?” She snarked, putting the claws back in. 

“Why didn’t you just say who you were? You almost gave me a heart attack. I could’ve killed you.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said with that same little chuffy laugh her father did when he thought he was being soooooo clever. 

Do they all have to be this way? 

It has to be genetic. 

“You know what I mean,” he grumbled. She just shrugged one shoulder.  

“Wanted to see what you were gonna do. And it was kinda funny.”

What the fuck? He wanted to throttle her. Instead, he just pointed a frustrated finger at her and snapped. 

“No. No it was not.”

“I tried to tell you,” Gabby interjected from behind him. He turned to her, properly chastised. She had in fact done that.  

“That you did, honeybadger. Next time, I give you full permission to interrupt me for relevant information like being related to your would-be kidnapper.”

“To be fair, we have some relatives you really shouldn’t trust, so probably good to start with the knife routine,” Laura added helpfully. 

This fucking family was going to be the death of him.

“Not that I don’t relish the opportunity to meet another fabulous Wolverine pup, but why’re you here?” He asked, changing the subject. 

“Kit.”

“What?”

“A young wolverine is called a kit, not a pup,” Laura corrected, like that was just totally common and relevant information to know. 

He slapped a hand to his chest, gasping. 

“Oh my god, what a faux pas; how embarrassing. That’s on me for not doing my research. Thank you for educating me about your culture, m’lady. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind for future taxonomic discussions.”

That earned him a giggle from Gabby and a glare from Laura, though he thought he saw her mouth twitch like she was trying not to smile, but that might’ve been wishful thinking. 

“Dad couldn’t make it.”

That made the joking grin drop from his face. 

“Is he okay? Did something happen?” He asked, his tone waaaaaaay too intense for casual concern. He blamed Laura for getting his damn adrenaline up. 

She looked at him, eyebrows pinched in that signature Wolverine way that said “I’m judging the fuck out of you right now.” 

“He’s fine,” she replied eventually. “Work stuff.”

Wade assumed she wasn’t talking about a PowerPoint emergency. She meant X-Men stuff. He was decidedly not jealous or interested in any way, no siree bob. 

“Papi, I'm hungry.” He was pulled back into the moment by Ellie, tugging at his sleeve incessantly. The whiny tone held that edge that told him they needed lunch STAT or there would be hell to pay. He refrained from reminding her that he’d told her to pack an extra snack for this exact reason this morning, mostly because it would just result in speeding along the pissy attitude that was heading their way, but also because he’d also forgotten to pack her an extra snack so that was on him too. 

(He was never much for gender roles, but every now and then the idea of having someone else be in charge of things like packing lunches every day and remembering to switch the laundry over was reallllly appealing). 

“Me too,” Gabby told her sister as she sat down on the ground to take her skates off. Ellie followed her lead. “Can we get dinner on the way home since Daddy’s working?”

There’s an idea. 

“Hey, how ‘bout we all go grab something together, my treat,” Wade offered, mouth working faster than he brain (what’s new?). 

“Why?” Laura asked, looking at him like he’d just suggested they all go skydiving. 

He shrugged and pointed at himself, then the girls.

“I’m hungry, they’re borderline hangry, it’s free food, why not?” 

There was a long pause, long enough for the girls to finish switching their shoes and gathering up their stuff. 

“You’re weird,” Laura finally said, staring at him like she was trying to read his aura or some shit. 

Fuck, do you think she has aura-reading powers? What would ours say, anyway? 

Nothing good, that’s for sure. 

What the fuck are aura-reading powers? 

Shut up.  

“Is that a no?” He asked, because it wasn’t technically a no, just a statement of fact. One he wasn’t denying. 

“I want pizza.”

Laura was an interesting mix between Logan and Gabby. He could tell her default around strangers was broody and aloof — signature Wolverine persona — but something sweet and bubbly slipped out when she was interacting with Gabby. Like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, but her sister made the burden a little bit lighter. 

Wade wondered if she’d been as carefree as Gabby at her age and if she had, what had changed. He’d only known the little girl for a short time, but it was devastating to imagine her losing her sparkle, of the darkness in this world blotting out her light. It didn’t bear thinking about because if he did, he’d start thinking about all of the ways the world was going to try to hurt and change his Elliebear and how, in the long run, he was helpless to do anything to stop it. He couldn’t keep her wrapped up in a bubble or locked away in a tower like Rapunzel, as appealing as the idea sounded some (most) days. 

“You’re not what I was expecting from the infamous Deadpool,” Laura told him, leaning against Logan’s truck, keys in one hand and leftover pizza box in the other. 

“Infamous huh? Guess I can cross that off the bucket list.” As far as monikers went, he’d had worse. 

Laura hummed. 

“The way dad talks about you, I thought you’d be more annoying.”

His stomach did something weird and fluttery at the acknowledgement that Logan talked about him to other people – to his kid – despite the fact that it was most definitely not in a good way. 

Fucking idiot. 

He was suddenly hyperaware of what his face was doing, and what it was doing was forgetting every normal expression ever. 

Get a fucking grip, man. 

How am I supposed to respond to that? 

“Oh, uh thanks? I think. Give it time; I get worse.” He offered her an awkward salute goodbye and shot Gabby fingers guns where she was already in the cab, buckled and ready to go, before turning on his heel and walking briskly back to his own car. 

That could’ve gone worse. 

Chapter Text

Wade

It took less than a month for Wade to get a call from Ellie’s principal (Scott freaking Summers) explaining that there had been an “incident” and asking could he please come by his office this afternoon. 

Only took two weeks last time. 

She’s making progress. 

Wade stood outside the giant wooden door, trying to psych himself up for whatever was to come. He was usually able to talk people down (or at least use his physical appearance to garner sympathy points), but that wasn’t an option here. Scott had always hated his guts. 

(Also, Wade might’ve engaged in some redband worthy polyamorous activities with his time-traveling son from the future and his (ex) lucky lady once upon a time, and while he was positive there was no possible way Scott knew about that, it felt like there was an extra, secret layer of hate piled onto him every time they were in the same room together.)   

Fuck. 

He did not see this going well, at all. 

Taking a deep gulp of air, he wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs, knocked on the door, and walked in. 

Scott was sitting in a gaudy, high-backed chair, a stack of folders sat neatly in front of him. The hideous brown sports coat really sold the whole “principal” shtick.  

“Mr. Wilson, welcome. Thank you for coming by on short notice.” He motioned for Wade to sit down at one of the two seats in front of his (unnecessarily) large desk, and that’s when he noticed the other occupant in the room, slumped down in his chair, arms crossed, looking for all the world like a moody teenager and not a grown ass adult in a position of authority.

Fuck. What is he doing here?

That can’t be good. 

A million and one thoughts raced through his brain at once, ranging from Logan being there to act as a bodyguard for Scott because he was about to tell Wade something that he thought would make him lose his shit, to him being there to gloat about the inevitable expulsion that was about to take place, to something terrible having happened to one or both of the girls. 

“What happened?” Wade demanded. He was too anxious to bother with niceties. 

“Please, take a seat,” Scott reiterated, motioning again to the chair, but Wade ignored him, his brain creating an unending supply of worst-case scenarios, each of them somehow worse than the other. His chest felt tight and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.  

“Answer the question,” he demanded, jaw clenched tight as he tried to remember how to breathe like a normal person. 

Logan looked up at him, eyebrows pinched, interjecting before Scott could tell him to sit down again. 

“They’re fine. They’re in trouble, but no one’s hurt,” he informed Wade, saying the thing he needed to hear before allowing himself to calm down. 

“Should’ve led with that.” 

Wade flopped into the seat next to him, body feeling like lead. Whatever else was going on, no one was hurt, and that’s all that mattered.

“Someone is hurt, Logan,” Scott cut back in. Logan rolled his eyes.

“It’s a black eye. He’ll live.”

“Hold up.” Wade raised a hand to stop the back and forth before it got any more confusing. “Let’s rewind and play this fun game where we all start our conversations from the beginning with everyone in the room so we’re all on the same page. From the top.”

Scott sighed heavily, but conceded the point. 

“I got a call from the nurse’s office this afternoon.”

“Does Hank know you call him a nurse?” Wade couldn’t help interrupting. Scott ignored him, but it was like he could feel the annoyance coming off of him in palpable waves. 

“A boy came in with a black eye and one of your daughters gave it to him.” He looked from one of them to the other, hidden gaze heavy with judgement. 

“He doesn’t remember who? Jesus, how hard’d she hit him?”

Logan snorted beside him and Scott glared at them both. Or at least, Wade assumed it was a glare. He was frowning very hard and pointing the visor at them in turn. 

“He wouldn’t say who it was, but based on some very loud whispers from his classmates, I’ve narrowed it down to one of the two of them.”

“Hearsay!” Wade objected. Whispers. Who the fuck gets indicted on whispers ? No one, that’s who. 

“Why don’t you tell the whole story, Slim?” Logan said, clearly annoyed at Scott’s version of events. He turned his head to speak directly to Wade. “Kid’s got some kind of illusion ability; was going around scaring the shit outta his classmates, making ‘em think they had spiders crawling on ‘em an’ shit.” 

Wade recoiled. What kind of Freddy Kruger school of bitchcraft and douchery were they running here?! 

“Fucking fair. I’d punch him too. What’s the problem?” As far as he was concerned this was an open and shut case of fuck around and find out. Tit for motherfucking tat. 

“The problem, Mr. Wilson, is that we don’t encourage or condone violence at this school,” Scott explained evenly. 

“But bullying is A-okay,” Logan added sarcastically. 

“No, it’s not, but there are proper channels to report—”

“Gabs did report it. Two weeks ago. And it was still happening,” Logan said, volume barely below what could be considered shouting. Not that Wade wasn’t 100% on board with shouting about this. He’d been expecting accusations of vandalism, maybe some petty theft, which was fine, whatever, he’d write a check and deal with Ellie at home, but this? This wasn’t worth interrupting his Golden Girls marathon for. Kid got what he deserved. 

“None of the children she said were getting bullied would corroborate it. At that point it was just he said/she said.”

Wade had to interrupt again. 

“Wait a sec, not to be that guy and all, but, the school is run by a telepath, no? Seems like an easy trial to me.”

“The school is run by me,” Scott corrected, at the same time Logan explained, “Chuck won’t interfere like that.”

Wade ignored Scott again and instead honed in on that other statement. 

“What? Why not?”

“Somethin’ about integrity and moral compasses. Wants ‘em to learn to tell the truth because it’s the right thing t’do, not because they can’t get away with a lie,” Logan grumbled, clearly not buying the BS. 

“Does that actually work?” Wade was skeptical too, especially because that’s all well and good for lying about the dog eating your homework, but something that is actually affecting other students negatively? Something that’s harmful? Fuck no. 

If the school has the resources, why not use them? Ellie might as well be back in public school with that kind of attitude. 

“Yet to be determined, but my money’s on no.”

Scott sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“That’s because you always see the worst in people.”

Logan lifted one shoulder.   

“I see what they show me. No more, no less.”

“Well, if we weren’t for giving people second chances, this place would look a lot different, wouldn’t it?” Scott snapped. 

Wade held his breath. He could see the tendon in Logan’s jaw working overtime to keep his mouth shut. 

Fuuuuuuuuck that’s cold. 

Would it draw too much attention to start inching towards the door right now? 

“And speaking of second, and third, and forth chances, you’re right. They do have to stop sometime. I can’t keep looking the other way, Logan.”

Wade’s eyes widened. Whoa, whoa, whoa – hold the phone. There was some lore there that Wade desperately needed to explore. Was Gabby a little delinquent too?! He couldn’t say he was all that surprised – she had a teensy bit of a temper and even less of a brain to mouth filter than he did (which he found incredibly endearing, don’t get him wrong) – but he had assumed because of Logan’s position with the X-Men and as a teacher she would be a bit of a golden child. 

Actually, no, now that he laid it out like that, it made a lot more sense for her to take the other road and be a little rebellious troublemaker.

God he loved this kid. 

Logan did too, obviously, and the threat – as indirect as it was – was not received well. 

“That’s the whole goddamn point of this school, helpin’ them learn how to control their mutations,” he said, barely containing the shout this time.

Wade made the self-preserving choice not to point out that under that logic the spider kid (no, not that one) shouldn’t be punished either. 

“It’s not her mutation she can’t control,” Scott replied, cool as ever in the face of Logan’s ire. 

Probably as used to it as we are. 

Yeah, but he can’t heal.  

That scary vein in Logan’s forehead that got real visible when he was angry was starting to pop up. Wade opened his mouth to intervene before really thinking it through. 

“Maybe if you had a better handle on the bullying problem at your school, she wouldn’t have to take it into her own hands.”

Scott’s attention snapped to Wade, as if suddenly remembering he was also in the room. 

Whoops. 

Shoulda snuck out while we could. 

“Gabby’s weapon of choice has historically been matches or her claws, so I’m inclined to believe the blunt force trauma was Ellie’s doing.”

“Blunt — it was a freaking punch, not some bludgeoning in the mess hall with a candle stick. Give me a break,” Wade said, frustration and annoyance bubbling up at the unfounded (probably true) accusation pointed at his girl. 

How dare he talk about her like she was going around clubbing people in the head like some kind of brute. The kid had it coming, anyway. 

“Violence is violence, Mr. Wilson. I understand that might be difficult for you to grasp, you being you, but what your daughter did—”

“Allegedly,” Logan cut in. 

Scott sighed heavily, again, head thunking hard against the backrest of his stupid throne chair, probably regretting the decision to have this meeting with the both of them at once. Had he expected Logan to be on his side here? Wade? Laughable.  

“They both have detention for the next two weeks,” he told them, giving up on arguing his case anymore and moving straight on to sentencing. 

“Seriously?”

“I could be persuaded down to one week for the one that didn’t actually do the punching, but seeing as neither of them will come clean about it, they’re both going to have to face the consequences. And the mark on their record.”

Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Just put it on Gabby.”

Wade whipped his head around to look at him, shocked. 

“What? No, don’t do that. That’s not fair.”

Especially because it was definitely Ellie that did the punching. 

I mean, if he wants to give her a get out of jail free card, who are we to stop him? 

Ellie wouldn’t do that to her, and she’d hate us for letting it happen. 

“He’s not gonna expel my kid, Wilson,” Logan explained, logically — maybe even a smidge smugly. “Charles won’t let him.”

“There is a limit, Logan,” Scott reminded him. 

“Standing up for someone else ain’t it,” Logan snapped, though conceded, “even if she coulda gone about it differently.”

“This can’t become a habit.”

“It won’t,” Wade rushed to say. Because it wouldn’t. It couldn’t. Ellie didn’t have the luxury of nepotism; she had to swim against the not-insubstantial current of his reputation, as unfair as that was to her. “They’ll both do the detention. That’s only fair.”

“And they’ll both get a note in their records,” Logan opened his mouth to argue but Scott held up a hand to stop him. “ But it’ll come out at the end of the school year if there are no more infractions.”

That was honestly the best outcome he could’ve hoped for considering the situation and Scott’s insistence that a punishment be doled out. 

Speaking of which.

“What about the boy?”

“Similar terms, but the note stays in his record if my investigation turns up sufficient evidence of him using his powers to inflict harm on others and he’ll have more specialized counseling to make sure the behavior doesn’t continue.”

Wade was kind of annoyed how fair and responsible that sounded. 

Logan

“Who’da thought it’d be my kid getting yours in trouble. Fuck.” Logan ran a hand through his hair, feeling less defensive now that they were away from Scott and the reality of the situation really started to sink in. 

How many times was he going to have to have this conversation with her? And now she’d gotten her friend in trouble too –  a friend he knew Scott was already keeping an extra close eye on just because of who her father was. 

Fuck, he was going to have to explain that to her too at some point. How was he supposed to teach her to judge people based on their actions and not outside influences when that’s not how the world fuckin’ worked? 

Parenting was just one lie after another wrapped in the guise of hope and ideals. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Wade told him, shrugging it off. “This isn’t my first rodeo in the principal’s office – most fun one, for sure; I’ll cherish the memory of this impassioned, enlightening, and at parts terrifying, threesome forever and always, but it’s definitely not my first.”

Logan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m gonna choose to ignore everything you said after "principal's office.””

“Fair.” 

Logan gave it a second, let the rest of that absurd sentence kick in. 

“She got in trouble at her old school?” 

Wade let out a bark of laughter. 

“Which one? Trick question, the answer is yes to all of them. This is school number four this year. Kid’s too smart for her own good. Learns real fast then gets bored and starts acting up. The older she gets, the worse it gets. Used to just be notes on a report card and passive aggressive remarks from teachers, but this year’s been something else.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” 

He’d meant it lighthearted, but it obviously struck a nerve he hadn’t intended to poke at. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Wade snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching his shoulder inward. “Do you know how hard it is to discipline someone for acting the exact same way you do?”

Logan looked meaningfully over at the door to the classroom where their girls were currently serving out their detention. 

Detention they'd earned for acting out violently and impulsively, for solving a problem with fists instead of words. 

“Yeah. I do.” 

Some of that defensiveness loosened in Wade’s posture and he slumped against the wall next to Logan, almost, but not quite, touching. Logan closed the distance, nudging his shoulder against Wade’s. 

“Heard somewhere if you’re worryin’ you’re doin’ it right,” he said, offering an olive branch he’d once been given, back when he was juggling raising a toddler and a teenager who’d been conditioned from birth to be a weapon, not a child. 

He still didn’t know how he made it through those first years. 

“I must be fucking acing it then,” Wade replied, a self-deprecating laugh belying the seriousness of his words. 

You are, he thought, but didn’t say, the words stuck somewhere behind his teeth. 

“She’s a good kid,” he managed to get out instead. 

“Despite the odds,” Wade muttered, wrapping his arms around his middle. 

Logan still couldn’t get over how different this version of Wade was to the one he knew. Only… it wasn’t that different, was it? This Wade – this vulnerable, insecure, self-defeating Wade – had always been there. He’d come out in the rare, quiet moments, usually in the aftermath of some mission gone wrong, in the wake of a corpse they’d been too late to save, over a beer or twelve in an empty hole-in-the-wall bar. He’d always start the night gagging for a fight, but by the end, slumped shoulder to shoulder in some alley, surrounded by blood and broken glass, the stench of stale beer and piss burning their nostrils, this is the Wade that would be there, going over and over all the ways they’d fucked up, what they could do better, how he could be better. 

He’d always disappeared from Logan’s view soon after, but he supposed that didn’t mean he wasn’t still there behind the boisterous, cocky mask he slid back on in the hazy grey of morning light. 

He supposed he had his own masks he’d hidden behind as well.

It hadn’t just been Wade looking for punishment and redemption in those late night brawls. 

He’d never known what to say back then, and he hadn’t gotten any better at it now. 

“Yeah well.” He shrugged, wishing he had a cigar or a drink, something to give him an excuse to not talk. “Guess they’ve kinda both been set up for failure, haven’t they?”

He could feel Wade’s eyes on him, but he continued staring at his own boots.

“I don’t know,” Wade finally said and Logan felt his shoulder move against his own. “Laura seems to have turned out all right.”

“Despite the odds.”

They stood against the wall, riding out the last six minutes of the girls’ detention in, if not comfortable, then at least not awkward, silence. 

The door opened and the two of them took a few more steps, engrossed in whatever conversation they were having, until they noticed Logan and Wade waiting for them. They immediately stopped talking. 

Gabby’s stance changed from loose and laughing to serious, chin out, shoulders back, ready to face her consequences. A good little soldier – a stance that had been programmed into her sister over years of conditioning, a stance she used to mimic as a toddler, all chunky kneed and wobbly chinned. It’d been almost cute back then. 

Now though… now she looked so much like Laura that it made him feel physically ill. 

Ellie took a different approach, head tilting ever so slightly as she assessed the situation, calculating her options, expression shifting from contrite to nonchalant and finally settling on self-righteous in the course of mere seconds. 

Wade hadn’t been kidding about her manipulation skills. Jesus . 

What a pair the two made. 

They walked up together, stopping right in front of him and Wade. 

“Which of you did it?” Logan asked, just to get it out of the way. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting an answer. 

They looked at each other and, as predicted, said nothing. 

“You’re both getting the punishment regardless; you can tell us,” Wade tried. 

“If we’re both getting punished, then it doesn’t matter, does it?” Ellie asked sweetly. Logan glanced at Wade, who was rubbing the spot between his eyes like he could get a headstart on staving off the headache they were both likely about to get from this conversation. 

Logan started to speak when a group of older students ran past, excited to get outside after a day of stuffy, boring classes. 

Right. They were in the middle of the hall. 

“We’re not doing this here.”

The family room was thankfully empty when they got there. He started in on his daughter as soon as the girls sat down. 

“You absolutely cannot do this again, do you understand me?”

She nodded. They both did. 

“If there’s a problem, come to me. I’m in the same building for fuck’s sake,” he reminded them, pacing the length of the coffee table then back. “Do not take it into your own hands. What happened to walking away?” He directed at Gabby, reiterating to her the promise she’d made the last time they’d had to have this discussion. 

“She was really scared, Dad,” she argued. 

“Who?”

“Jessie,” Ellie chimed in. “She was crying. Like ugly, snotty for reals crying.”

He looked over at Wade, who shrugged. 

“Who’s Jessie?” As far as he knew, Gabby had exactly one friend at this school and Ellie hadn’t gone out of her way to make any others either. They only ever hung out with each other. 

“The girl he was bullying,” Gabby supplied. 

Ah, that makes sense. He’d assumed they hadn’t attacked the kid out of the blue, but he figured the boy had made the mistake of picking on one of the two of them and then suffered the consequences. It hadn’t crossed his mind that it was about someone else. 

“That’s why you punched him?”

Gabby opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. 

“That’s why he was punched. Yes,” Ellie replied carefully. 

Logan cut his eyes over at Wade whose facial expression held a mixture of pride and exasperation. No help there.  

“So he wasn’t bullying you two?” he asked, just for clarification. Scott had been pretty light on the details leading up to the incident.

Ellie scooted back on her cushion, pulling her legs up to cross them, making herself comfortable.  

“He tried, but his imagination sucks. He made it look like there was a shark in the pool during gym, but my cousin has a landshark, which is waaaaaay scarier than a sea shark, ‘cept Jeff’s not even scary at all. But don’t tell him cuz he’ll get sad. Anyway, his sea shark didn’t even look like a sea shark. I think it was supposed to be one of those hammer face ones but its head was suuuuuper flat and it just looked like a doof.”

Logan let that entire sentence wash over him without a lick of comprehension as to what the fuck she was talking about. It was a feeling he was used to when dealing with a Wilson though so he didn’t sweat it, just powered through. 

“And when I told him his spiders weren’t scary he tried to make it look like the floor was covered in blood, but I don’t think he knows what a lot of blood looks like. It just looked like ketchup, not like the real thing at all. So I laughed and he got mad and left,” Gabby added, loosening up a little, following Ellie’s lead. 

They continued talking, ping-ponging the conversation back and forth. 

“But Chelsea’s really scared of snakes."

"And he’s really good at snakes.”

“He thinks it’s funny.”

“And it’s not funny.”

“He deserved it.”

Logan pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes. That headache he’d been anticipating was right on time. 

He couldn’t even fucking argue with that. 

“Uh, Logan. A word?” Wade nodded his head towards the door and Logan followed him out. Not like this conversation was going anywhere anyway. 

He waited for Logan to shut the door before speaking, quietly so prying ears wouldn’t overhear. 

“So… we agree they shouldn’t be punished for this, right?”

Did they? Logan didn’t even know if he agreed with himself about that. 

“I don’t know,” he hedged. Wade huffed. 

“If it were any other setting they’d be the good guys in this scenario and you know it.”

“Yeah, but it’s not. And they’re not budding vigilanties; they’re eight ,” he hissed, moving them further down the hall so he could speak like a normal person without worrying about Gabby hearing. 

“Yeah. Adolescent. Impulsive. Prone to temper tantrums and theatrics.” Wade said, counting off on his fingers. 

“And attacking their classmates, apparently.”

“You’re letting ol’ laser eyes get too inside your head. This is normal fucking behavior, especially for a kid whose dad’s a superhero. I don’t know where Ellie's getting it from, but you think that strong sense of justice you’ve got going on hasn’t rubbed off on Gabby? Bullshit. You can see it in how she carries herself; she knows they were in the right and she’s not gonna apologize for it. And she shouldn’t have to. The boy had it coming.”

“She punched a kid,” he reminded him. That couldn’t be overlooked. Wade made a face and held his hand out palm down, shifting it from side to side. 

“Eh… Ellie probably punched that kid, if we’re being honest.”

He seemed pretty confident about that, but Logan wasn’t so sure. It didn’t matter either way, they’d both been complicit. 

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging a little in frustration. 

“This fucking sucks. No matter what I do, it’s the wrong decision. I don’t want to punish her — I want to take her out for ice cream and tell her she did good, but I can’t fucking encourage violence.”

“There’s a difference between aggression and defense. I know you know that,” Wade said calmly. 

He didn’t get it. It wasn’t that simple. Maybe it was for Wade, for Ellie, but not for him. Whatever it was that made him go berserk, made him lose control, it was in his DNA. He didn't get to walk that line without consequences and neither did his offspring.

“It’s a slippery goddamn slope,” He said, willing Wade to hear what he couldn't put into words. 

“I think it’s more our job to equip them with the proper footwear than to stop them making the trek at all, ya know?” Wade offered unhelpfully. 

“That metaphor supposed to make sense, bub?” Because it absolutely goddamn did not. 

Wade tried again, his words careful and measured. 

“She didn’t lose control, she made a choice. Maybe not the best choice, but it was effective and, more importantly, not excessive.” Wade bit his lip like he wanted to say something else but was stopping himself. 

That’s a damn first.  

“Go ahead.” Logan motioned with his hand for Wade to continue. 

“What?”

“Say whatever it is you’re not saying.”

He chewed at his lip some more, obviously debating whether whatever he had to say was worth it, eventually deciding it was. 

“I think you’re making a bigger deal out of this than you need to because you’re afraid she’s on a path to becoming you. Pleasedontstabme.” He said it fast, especially the last part, like he was genuinely expecting Logan to do just that. 

He didn’t love what that said about him. 

I haven’t stabbed him that much, have I? 

“Your point?” he gritted out, because Wade was obviously not done if the look on his face was anything to go by. 

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, still keeping an arms length of distance between them, Logan assumed, just in case. 

“Just sayin’, I can think of worse people to become.”

Logan didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. 

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you how to parent your kid,” Wade said after a minute or two of awkward silence. “It’d be great if we were on the same page about this cuz it’s gonna be reeeeeaaal awkward for them when only one gets punished, but I’ve already made my decision and it’s not changing, so, you do you. What I' m gonna do is take Ellie for dinner wherever she wants and not yell at her for doing the right thing the wrong way. You and Gabby are more than welcome to join us.”

He walked back to the door, effectively ending the conversation. 

Despite his best efforts not to, Logan thought about what he said while he gathered Ellie up and left. 

He looked at Gabby, sitting alone on the couch, looking a little smaller, a little less confident, now that her friend had left. 

He sat down next to her. 

“Walk me through exactly what happened.”

She took a deep breath and began her story. 

“Billy got bored of scaring our class so he started picking on the first graders and I told Mr. Summers about it, but all the little kids were too scared that Billy would make the bugs come back if they told so they lied and then I looked like a liar but I wasn’t. I promise!” She blurted out, all in that one single breath. 

“I believe you, baby,” he reassured her, taking her tiny hand in his. “What happened today?”

“Me ‘n Ellie were drawing outside during lunch and we heard someone crying so we went to check it out and found Jessie curled up by the swings and Billy laughing and calling her names. We told him to stop and he got mad and shoved me and I shoved him and then he shoved me again and then e— then he got punched and he stopped.” 

Then Ellie punched him and he stopped, he filled in the pause for her. 

“Why didn’t you come tell me about it?”

Gabby shrugged and started picking at a loose thread on her jeans. 

He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to his chest. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” He mumbled, lips pressed against the crown of her head. 

“I’m sorry Daddy. But if you’d’ve seen her — she had her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed shut like Laura used to do when she had her nightmares and I didn’t wanna leave her and I didn’t know how to make it stop. But I didn’t use my claws.” She added quietly, “even though I wanted to.”

“You remember the nightmares?” She’d shared a room with Laura for the first few years he had them — Laura refusing to let her out of her sight — but they’d split up when they moved into the mansion. Gabby had only been four. He had hoped… 

She nodded. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it, choosing instead to squeeze her a little tighter before making her sit back so he could look her in the eye. 

“As a teacher and a responsible adult I have to tell you that violence is never the answer and next time you need to come to me or another adult with this stuff instead of dealing with it yourself, okay?”

“Okay.”

She nodded again then looked back down at the thread she was slowly unraveling. He put his knuckles under her chin, lifting it up to look at him again. 

“But as your father I gotta tell you, I’m proud of you kiddo.”

Her eyes widened. 

“That was a difficult situation and you did what you thought was right for Jessie, regardless of the consequences for yourself or your friend. How is Jessie? She okay?”

“Think so. We’re gonna sit with her at lunch for the rest of the week to make sure he doesn’t try it again.”

He kissed her on the forehead. 

“You still have to do the detention.” 

She shrugged. 

“S’okay. Worth it.” 

God he loved this kid more than life itself. 

He felt his phone vibrate again and checked it when she hopped off his lap to go put her backpack away. 

Wade: Xena Warrior Princess has chosen McDonald’s. I’m thinking about changing my mind on the whole punishment thing. This is a Burger King household. I’ve never felt more betrayed. And by the fruit of my own loins!

Wade: We’ll be at the one on Franklin if u change your mind too…

“Hey bumblebee,” he called to her, making her turn around in the doorway on the way to her room. “You wanna go to McDonalds?”

“Yes!” she jumped up and down, fists in the air. He quickly added, as stern as he could manage (which honestly wasn’t very after the day they’d had):

“This is not a reward for your behavior today, are we clear?”

“Yes sir,” she replied, tossing her backpack into her room – thank fuck for tablets with shatterproof glass – and running over to him, linking their hands and practically dragging him to the door. 

He didn’t know if that was the right call, but it sat right in his stomach, and in his heart. His head would just have to catch up later. 

Chapter Text

Logan

“Anxious?” 

Wade had never been known for his ability to sit still, but this fidgeting was different than his usual hyperactivity. He was constantly twirling things around in his fingers like they were knives — pencils, rulers, his sunglasses, and at the moment, a twizzler — like he was preparing for a threat. 

Logan had noticed it a lot over the past week while Wade had been lingering around at the end of the day to wait out Ellie’s detention. 

(The first day he’d said he’d forgotten she had to stay late and spent the hour waiting for her wandering around the mansion touching things he wasn’t supposed to. 

The second day he’d been deposited in Logan’s office twenty minutes before the girls were due to get out by an irate Storm with the instructions to “deal with him or I will,” and the non-excuse of “whoops.” 

Since then, he’d been ushered straight to Logan’s office to kill time while they waited for the girls and Logan caught up on grading. 

It’d been a relief to the rest of the mansion’s inhabitants, but terrible for his own productivity.)

Wade looked down at his hands and abruptly halted the action, shoving the piece of candy into his mouth to stop himself doing it again. 

“Restless,” he said after he’d finished chewing. “Haven’t stabbed anything in a while. You know how it is.”

“You stabbed me at the park,” Logan reminded him.

“Yeah but that was like an itty bitty stab and over a month ago. And before that it’d been aaaaaages.” Wade dragged the last word out, tilting his head over the back of his chair dramatically, like not committing grievous bodily harm in the recent past was a thing to be upset about. Logan would love to have those kinda numbers.  

“Merc work drying up?” He asked, not all that interested, but a little curious why a mercenary who was known for his sword-work apparently hadn’t used them in “ages.” It didn’t seem likely. 

“I don’t do that anymore.”

Logan snorted, then caught the look on Wade’s face. 

“You’re serious.”

Logan never thought he’d see the day. The Merc with a Mouth no longer a merc? That was kinda his whole shtick. The fuck was he doing for a job now? 

He had a brief flash of the ridiculous image of Wade as a car salesman, waving a gun around threatening people into buying vehicles, like the opposite of a carjacker. 

Wade shrugged and started picking at his nails, feigning nonchalance. 

“Yeah. Not the safest line of work, y’know. The types of people who get hits put out on them are generally the type to hold grudges and have connections, and they usually aren’t too squeamish about tossing babies outta windows in retribution for a job well done.”

Logan felt his eyes widening. 

“Did that—”

“Yeah,” Wade cut him off, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Worst day of my life. And I’ve had some doozies.”

Logan couldn’t imagine what he’d do in that situation. Well. He could, unfortunately, and it wasn’t pretty. 

She was lucky she'd inherited his healing factor, although— 

“She presented that early?” They usually didn’t, not without some kinda trauma or “medical” intervention, like with his girls.

“No. She was just really fucking lucky I’m not actually the friendless loser I play on TV and I’d been working with a team that time. Telekinesis for the win, amirite?” He winked and made finger guns at Logan, fake smile plastered on his face. 

“Wade,” he started, unsure how he was planning to finish the sentence. I’m sorry? That’s terrible? There weren’t words that could convey how horrifying that must’ve been, or that could provide any sense of comfort after the fact. It’d been a long time ago, obviously, but Logan felt awful for bringing it up, like he’d cornered Wade into sharing something that he had no right to hear.

Wade kept talking over him. 

“It did kick the mutation into gear though. Apparently it's ramping up to be even stronger than mine—”

“Wade,” he tried again, unsuccessfully. 

“So yeah, I don’t do that kinda work anymore,” Wade swung the conversation back around to what’d gotten them there in the first place. Not allowing any time for Logan to dwell on the facts laid out so clinically before him. He didn’t try to interrupt again, taking the hint. He obviously didn’t want Logan’s sympathy or platitudes, he could respect that. 

“I worked a couple last jobs — big, high-profile gigs that paid out the ass — and got an accountant like a fucking dweeb and here we are. Bored as fuck, but not painting a target on my kid’s back, so I’ll take it.”

“You could use the danger room.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up, far too eager to fix something he didn’t have a hand in breaking. 

“What?” 

“For the boredom,” Logan explained. In for a penny… “Stab as much as you want without worryin’ bout retribution.”

Wade gasped and clapped his hands together, dropping his feet to the floor loudly from where they’d been propped on the edge of Logan’s desk. 

“Oh emm gee. Are you serious? I’ve always wanted to play around in there.”

“Supervised,” he tacked on quickly. 

Fuck, what did I just do?  

“Aww come on! I wanna touch all the knobs and buttons. I’m really good at pressing buttons,” Wade informed him, like he didn’t already know. 

“That’s a fuckin’ understatement.”

He leaned back in the chair and put his hand up to the side of his mouth. 

“Good with the knob touching too, in case you were curious.” 

Logan ignored the wink thrown his way. 

“When can we do it? Can we go now?” Wade was half out of the chair before he finished speaking and Logan had to grab his arm and pull him back down before he could get far. 

God he sounded like one of the kids, practically vibrating at the prospect. 

(It would be cute, if Logan found things like that cute, or cared at all. Which he absolutely did not).

He looked at his watch. 

“They’re out in ten minutes.”

The instant frown that fell over Wade’s face made Logan feel irrationally bad about bringing it up at all. He shoulda kept his mouth shut, knowing Wade would jump on the suggestion immediately. 

“Tomorrow?” He asked, hopefully. 

Logan's first impulse, as usual, was to say no, but there wasn’t actually a reason they couldn’t do it tomorrow. Technically, he’d finished all of his grading over the weekend and was just getting a head start on lesson plans in between shooting the shit with Wade. He could skip his last class and spend a few hours in the training room.

That counted as work, right? 

“Ya know what, why not? I’m not getting shit done with you yapping anyway.”

Wade

“What’ll it be?” 

Logan motioned to the computer screen in front of him, a long index of opponents separated into subcategories like “Aliens - Aquatic” and “Robots - Non-Sentient” and “Slimes - Sentient.”

Wade’s fingers itched to scroll through them all, but Logan was proving too adept at blocking his attempts. 

“What are my options?” He asked, craning his neck to try and get a better look (and incidentally inching a little closer in the process). Logan sidestepped to prevent him getting within touching distance. 

Killjoy . 

“Anything.”

“Anything? Liiiiiiiiike, you could set it to have dinosaurs attack us?”

That suggestion was met with a heavy sigh. 

“I could, but I’m not gonna. Fuckin’ hate fighting dinosaurs.” Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the console, waiting for a better suggestion. Fine. Wade could do better than dinosaurs. That was just the warmup anyway. 

“Okay, so not anything,” Wade sassed before gasping and snapping his fingers. Perfect. “What about an army of you’s? Oooh! Or, or or oooooor, an army of meeeeeeee’s. That would be fun.”

This time he was met with a groan. 

“Sounds like a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“Just imagine it!” Wade spread his arms wide, hands framing the scene. “A hundred me’s running around, jumping off the walls, being unpredictable. It’d be a good training program. Even I don’t know what I’m going to do next.” 

Logan shook his head, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s a lie. You forget we’ve worked together? You know exactly what you’re doing — it’s everyone else that’s at a loss cuz nothing you do makes any goddamn sense to a person with a lick a’ sanity.”

“It makes plenty of sense to me,” Wade countered, ignoring the tight feeling in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to look that hard; nobody else ever did, that’s why the crazy idiot routine worked so well. 

Maybe that was why he could never keep the upper hand against the man in the past; Logan actually expected him to know what he was doing so he couldn’t use competence as a surprise tactic. 

Wade tucked those thoughts away to be analyzed later. Or possibly never.

Focus . 

“So that’s settled? An army of me?”

“Absofuckinglutely not.”

“C’mon! Imagine how much fun you could have with a hundred me’s.”

Logan’s left eye twitched and he went somewhere else; just for a second, but Wade noticed it all the same. 

Interesting. 

He’s thinking about killing you a hundred times . 

Or…

Or torturing. 

A girl can dream. 

“No. Pick something else.”

“Ugh fiiiiine, you’re no fun. Dealer’s choice then; I don’t wanna make any more decisions.”

“You haven’t even made one,” Logan argued, unfairly. Wade pointed out his hypocrisy.

“Yeah I did, but you vetoed dinosaurs and the Deadpool Corps so you gotta choose now. I don’t make the rules sweetpea, I just follow them (when they loosely serve my purposes).”

“Fine.” He stepped up to the console that Wade had been instructed in no uncertain terms to never ever touch under penalty of banishment and typed in a few things on the keyboard. 

“Slim’s been on a sentinel kick lately.”

Eww, boring. That's what he got for letting an X-Man choose the training program. Whatever. At least it was better than Doombots or something equally as predictable – but just barely. 

The room changed suddenly, walls melting away to an outdoor scene, rocky, mountainous terrain surrounded them and Logan grabbed him by the arm and pulled him behind an uprooted tree, keeping them out of the eye-line of the giant spaceship across from them. 

“Uh, I think you scrolled a little too far under “S” there, peanut. That’s a Skrull.”

“Yeah. I know.” Logan smirked, unsheathing his claws as he prepared for battle. “Fuckin’ sick of sentinels.”

Wade laughed, then covered his mouth, but it was too late. They’d been clocked. 

He pulled his guns out. 

“Forgot how much of a petty bitch you can be. I’ve missed it.”

“Fuuuuuuuck I’m so out of shape,” Wade wheezed, propping one foot up on a large imaginary(?) Holographic(?) (He didn’t actually know how this stuff worked) boulder and leaning forward to stretch. 

Logan looked over at him, scowling. 

“You just scaled a fucking mountain. The fuck you mean you’re out of shape?”

“Didn’t used to be able to feel my thighs burning afterwards,” he explained, patting his leg. Sure it would only last another minute or so, but it was the principle of the thing. There was a loud explosion and bits of shattered rock sprayed from the sky above them. Wade yelped and ducked for cover. 

Break’s over. 

He heard Logan’s bark of a laugh as he dove in the other direction, followed by a muttered, “fuck off.”

Wade rounded a corner at breakneck speed then skittered to a halt, nearly running into… himself?

Skrull. 

The imposter was trying to reason with a pissed off Wolverine (dumb move), hands up but still holding what Wade belatedly realized was one of his own guns that’d been tossed somewhere carelessly during a firefight earlier. 

Imposter!Wade took his entrance as an opportunity for escape. 

“It’s the Skrull! Kill him!” It shouted, bringing its hand down to aim Wade’s own gun at him. 

Logan growled and took a step forward and the Skrull quickly put its hands back up in a defensive gesture. 

Wade watched with mild fascination. They really were good at this copycat shit. He made to move closer, tilting his head to the side, looking for any little incongruities or mistakes. 

Logan growled again, this time aiming a set of claws at the real Wade too and adding “don’t fuckin’ move,” for good measure. 

“C’mon Wolvie, you’re better than that.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s obviously the Skrull. Look, he’s even using a Skrull weapon. Rookie move, dickhead.”

Wade looked down at his hand. 

Oh yeah, forgot I picked that baby up. 

“Oh please, that doesn’t prove shit. You know me, I see a weapon all lonely and neglected and I just can’t help myself. I’m a bleeding heart like that. Can’t just leave a helpless gun all sad and afraid with nowhere to call home.”

“At least let me shoot him if you’re not going to, Wolvie.”

“Hey, nuh-uh. You don’t get to call him that, you shifty lizard-faced motherfucker,” Wade shouted, pointing the finger of his hand not holding a gun.  

“We’re wasting time,” the Skrull!Wade said, all snippy like he had somewhere better to be. 

Wade rolled his eyes. 

“Wasting time is a Deadpool’s favorite pastime. Do your research better.”

“Shooting is a Deadpool’s favorite pastime, you reject store-brand knockoff.”

Wade huffed. This was getting them nowhere, and he kinda hated this guy – and the fact that Logan hadn’t killed him yet. 

“Here, just gut us both. Can’t copy a healing factor, can you sweet cheeks? Or can you?” He turned towards Logan to ask. “Like, for real, can they? Oh god, now who didn’t do their research? This is so embarrassing—”

Wade’s ramble was cut off by the wet sound of his doppelganger being eviscerated. He looked back up in time to see Wolverine wiping his claws off in the imposter's clothes before sheathing them once more. 

“Hey! You got it right!” Wade did a little hop and clap for him. 

Logan threw his stolen gun at him. Luckily Wade’s reflexes were spot on and he caught it before it could catch him in the jaw. (He’d like to think he wasn’t actually aiming at Wade’s face, it was just his poor throwing skills). 

“Knew it wasn’t you the moment it showed up, you just wouldn’t stop fucking talking long enough for me to say.”

“You did not,” Wade said, the urge to argue almost automatic at this point. Logan growled.  

“They can change their faces but they never get the scents right.”

Oh.

Oh, that was not a tidbit of information his brain needed access to. Nope, no siree, not at all. Logan being able to tell him apart from another Deadpool by scent alone? Totally not some ABO scent kink fantasy material right there. Absolutely not. 

“I am so turned on right now,” he said out loud, only half joking – and “half” was being generous. 

Logan grunted, ignoring him, and stalked off in the opposite direction. 

“That’s so romantic!” Wade called after him, mouth running off the way it always did despite the jokes being a little too on the nose for his comfort. He couldn’t stop himself. “I’m putting this in our wedding vows!”

Wade collapsed heavily onto a flat-ish slab of rock, chest heaving, muscles aching, blood thrumming in his veins. 

“That was fun.” 

God, when was the last time we’ve moved like that? 

When was the last time we shot a gun? 

Months? How’d we let that happen? 

Wade loved his daughter, loved the life he’d built around her, but he could admit in the privacy of his own thoughts that he missed this. Just a little. The rush, the ache, the blood… it just felt good. None of it was worth the risk to Ellie, and he could wait it out until she was older – not like he was gonna die of old age or anything – but he could definitely get used to this. A fight with no consequences? Yes please. Sign him up for the deluxe membership package. 

“Yeah,” Logan panted, slouched on the ground across from him, a sea of dead Skrulls disappearing before their eyes as the room reset itself now that the threat was eliminated. The “rock” Wade had been sitting on transformed back into a metal crate underneath him. It was a little unnerving.

A thought crossed his mind as he looked at Logan sitting there, all sweaty, splattered with flecks of dried Skrull blood and dirt. 

(Not that thought, perv)

(That thought’s crossed and recrossed our mind so many times since we entered this room it’s basically just background noise at this point)

(Barely even worth acknowledging)

(He doesn’t even look that good)

(Fucking liar)

Wade shook his head, physically ridding himself of those annoying little asides before refocusing on Logan and his brilliant new idea. 

“Y’know what would be more fun?” Wade asked, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face.

Logan’s eyebrows knit together as he looked over at him questioning, then smoothed out as the realization hit. 

“Wade,” he said, clear warning apparent in his tone. 

Wade flicked the safety on then off again just so that he could hear the satisfying click of the gun being cocked as he pointed it straight at Logan. 

“Dare me?”

“Don’t.”

The shot echoed loudly through the danger room, followed instantly by Wade’s manic giggle as he sprung up and scampered away. 

“Whoops! Finger slipped. These things can be so finicky sometimes!” He shouted over his shoulder, zigzagging around random boxes and containers to put more obstacles between him and two sets of adamantium claws. 

“You motherfucker!” Logan roared from somewhere behind him. 

“It’s not my fault. Negligent discharges are common for mercs over forty. It happens more often than you’d think.”

He could hear the heavy footsteps behind him, the crash of furniture being thrown out of the way instead of navigated around. 

“I’m gonna kill you.”

Wade laughed, jumping from one crate to another, climbing to maintain higher ground.  

“Gotta catch me first, peanut!”

Wade yelped, arms flying out to try to maintain his balance as he teetered on the edge of a rocking crate. 

A roar rang out beneath him and the crate lurched forward as he fell backwards, losing the fight with balance and gravity all at once. He groaned and tried to stay still while his spine knitted itself back together slowly. The ringing in his ears receded and was replaced with the sound of heavy, booted footfalls headed towards him at a measured pace. 

“Good one,” he wheezed out, holding his thumb up. 

Snikt.

He took a running leap and kicked off one of the interior walls, using the leverage to land a solid blow to Logan’s jaw, definitely breaking a few toes in the process. 

Worth it. 

Logan spit, blood splattering the ground at his feet, and snarled at him, pearly white fangs stained red, crouching to prepare a charge at Wade, who was hopping on one foot while reloading his gun. 

He aimed and fired, getting off six shots that landed square in Logan’s chest before the man put six holes of his own into Wade’s, smug laugh echoing off the walls around them. 

Ouch. 

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” Wade sing-songed, twirling around corners looking for his elusive Wolverine. He’d switched tactics so instead of chasing he was stalking Wade like the predator he was. And he was annoyingly good at it. 

Wade had determined quickly that he sure as shit wasn’t going to out hunt him, so he was focusing on annoying him out of hiding instead, hoping it’d be enough to make him lose focus and slip up, leading to a mistake Wade could take advantage of. 

“Pspspsps heeeeere kitty kitty kit– oof. ”

Wade was knocked forward, slammed bodily into the wall in front of him. He turned his head just in time to avoid introducing the cartilage in his nose to his frontal cortex, but didn’t have any time to congratulate himself because his arms were suddenly wrenched back (ow fuck, that pop was definitely something important) and folded so that his wrists were over top of each other and before he could even process what was happening a sharp, stinging pain lit up his nerve endings making him scream, more in shock than in pain (though it did hurt like fuck). 

“What now?” Logan growled over his shoulder as he twisted his claws a few degrees, shredding through the tendons in Wade’s forearms. 

The pain wire in Wade’s brain (like most things in there) had never exactly been a straight line from point A to point B and over the years it’d become crisscrossed with the pleasure wire somewhere along the line. This moment was no different. The sparks that were lighting up his insides caught fire, something primal and urgent burning low in his gut.  

Fuuuuuuuuck. 

“I can think of a few things,” he said, breathlessly, “but you’re probably not gonna like my answers.” It was barely a joke. He had sooooo many ideas where this could go next. Each one more depraved than the other and sure to get him castrated — and not in a fun way. 

Didn’t help Logan was standing so close – close enough Wade could feel the heat radiating off the man’s chest, feel his breath hot and sticky against the back of his neck. 

He swallowed hard, waiting for the inevitable stab through the skull. 

Jesus Christ, is it normal to like the smell of someone’s sweat?

You have problems. 

About to have one very noticeable problem if he doesn’t back the fuck off. 

Shouldn’t we be getting our skull skewered right about now?

They were right. Logan hadn’t moved yet, hadn’t said anything either, was just panting heavily in Wade’s ear like the world's sexiest labrador retriever. 

(A labrador retriever that was no doubt about to sink his teeth into Wade’s throat as soon as he moved. Fuck! Why did even that sound good?)

An incessant beeping coming from Logan’s wrist interrupted the loaded silence. 

“What is that?” Wade risked asking when Logan made no move to turn it off, like he didn’t even hear the annoying alarm. 

A second passed, then Logan cleared his throat. 

"Detention's over.” His voice was so much closer to Wade’s ear than he’d realized, all raspy and deep, sending shivers up his spine. 

Fuck him. 

Now that was going to be in his brain forever. 

No. Nope. He was better than that. He absolutely refused to let his depraved imagination go down that road. Roleplaying hot teacher with his kid’s actual teacher was probably a step too far even for Wade. Probably. 

(Unless he’s into it too). 

No. Bad. Shut it. We don’t like him like that anymore. 

Yeah? Who’s gonna tell our dick? 

Logan stepped back, pulling his claws from Wade’s flesh too slow and deliberate to not feel some kind of intimate. Wade nearly bit his tongue in half to keep from making a sound he’d regret. 

They got cleaned up quickly, Logan throwing a grey sweatshirt on over his stained shirt while Wade shucked his off completely and tossed it in a nearby trashcan, grabbing a spare from his gym bag, He hadn’t really thought it through when he’d pointed his gun at Logan, but the claws did a lot more permanent damage to a wardrobe than Skrull energy weapons. Oh well. 

Worth it. 

He pulled on his own hoodie, zipping it up all the way to the top and pulling the hood over his head, minimizing the surface area visible to unsuspecting mansion dwellers. 

He was in a good mood, endorphins and endocannabinoids swirling around his nervous system giving him the kinda high he hadn’t felt in a really long time. No need to harsh it with whispered insults and horrified stares right off the bat. 

He wasn’t as insecure about it as he used to be, but he wasn’t delusional either. He knew what he looked like, didn’t need to be constantly reminded of it by the rest of the world’s lack of fucking tact and filter. 

At least he disgusted Logan with who he was and not how he looked. It was a subtle but distinct difference. Though he did sometimes get that prickly feeling on the back of his neck like he was looking a little too close for comfort, so far nothing had come of it. His insults historically had more to do with Wade’s personality deficits than where he was lacking in the looks department; a quality Wade appreciated in a frenemy. 

After all, beauty was only skin deep, but this unique combination of sarcasm, self-deprecation, and psychosis had been carefully cultivated over years ; it deserved a chance to be hated just as much – if not more – than his physical appearance did. 

“Can’t believe we coulda been doing this the whole week and you let me waste time sharpening your pencils all day,” he complained, halfway sincere, on their way back to Logan’s classroom. The halls were nearly empty, most students choosing not to linger around after the end of day except for one or two nerds and the occasional delinquent, like their own precious baby troublemakers angels.

Logan scoffed at his statement. 

“First of all, you didn’t sharpen shit; that woulda been useful and you’ve been anything but. Second of all, no, we couldn't because some of us have actual jobs.”

“Not my fault you chose passion over a paycheck, peanut. Bad move in this economy. Any financial advisor would tell you that,” Wade countered. “Anyway, I could just do it by myself,” he offered, knowing what the answer would be.

Sure enough, Logan barely let him get the words out of his mouth before he was shutting them down with a succinct, “No.”

Wade didn’t like the idea of going it alone either, but that was for an entirely different reason than Logan. The same reason he didn’t want a substitute chaperone; it just wasn’t the same. Sure, fighting the fake Skrulls had been fun, but fighting Logan? That had been exhilarating. 

No. He didn’t like the idea of it being someone else at all – but he did like riling Logan up, so he had to say it anyway. 

“Someone else could supervise me; doesn’t have to be you.”

“Fuck no.”

Wade had been expecting the response, but not the amount of force with which it was said. By the pinch of Logan’s eyebrows and clench of his jaw, it didn’t look like he had either. 

Which of course meant Wade couldn’t just let it slide. 

“Awwww Wolvie, you want me all to yourself?” He folded his hands under his chin and tilted his head towards Logan, which did mean he wasn’t watching where he was going and nearly tripped over the edge of one of the many long, ugly-ass carpets running down the middle of the hallways. 

Completely unnecessary safety hazard in Wade’s opinion – especially in a building as prone to invasions as this one. 

Logan (the bitch) snorted at his stumble, shaking his head. 

“Nah, just wouldn’t subject you on my worst enemy, let alone my friends.”

“Asshole.” Wade shoved him by the shoulder, barely even making him list to the left, and caught the hint of a smile on Logan’s lips before he schooled his expression back into his usual RBF. 

They reached the classroom just as the girls walked up, clasped hands swinging between them while they chattered rapidly, speaking over one another and seemingly carrying on three different conversations at once. 

Gabby suddenly stopped talking and whipped her head forward to look at him, little button nose twitching. Wade realized their mistake right as she turned on her father, crossing her arms with a scowl.  

“Daddy you promised to be nice to Mr. Wade.” She stomped her foot angrily at him. 

“I don’t think I said that,” he started to reply, but Wade cut in hoping to calm her righteous anger down before it got off the ground, since Logan was obviously just about to make it worse. 

“Hold up little honey badger. I appreciate your concern for my well-being, it’s very sweet, but not necessary. I’m okay. We were just play-fighting in the danger room and I got a coupla scrapes. No big deal. Old folks like us gotta stay moving or our joints get all creaky and locked up, 'specially in the cold weather.”

She narrowed her eyes, looking at one and then the other before apparently deciding he was telling the truth. 

“Okay?”

She nodded, satisfied. 

“Okay.”

“Great.” He clapped his hands together, happy to avoid a catastrophic meltdown (even though it was super duper cute that she cared). “Now. How was detention? Tell me all about it.”

Logan

It didn’t take much convincing for Logan to agree to “supervising” another danger room session, though he did refuse to skip another class to do it. 

He caught the girls at the end of class the next day to explain in case time got away from them. He had a feeling it was going to. 

“Gonna be in the danger room again after school today. If we’re not in here when detention's over, come find us.”

“Oooooor…” Ellie started, holding a finger up. Again with the negotiating. “We could play video games until you’re done? Since you’re old and need your exercise and everything.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Cute.”

He had half a mind to say no on principle, but an hour really wasn’t much time to spar– especially when it took him half that time to just catch the fucker anyway – so he caved, with a caveat. 

“If you finish up your homework first.”

“Yes!” Gabby jumped in excitement, high-fiving her friend.

“We totally will. Promise! Thanks Mr. Logan.” 

“You’re welcome.” They turned to go and he called after them. “And, Ellie, for future reference, leave out the age comments when you’re trying to butter someone up, it’ll go better for you.”

She looked like she was thinking about it for all of two seconds before replying. 

“I mean, you said yes.”

Logan closed his eyes and to counted to five. God help him if this friendship made it to highschool. 

“Get outta here, you’re gonna be late for English,” he shooed them away, not having the energy or inclination to argue with her. She was, unfortunately, correct. 

Gabby came around the desk and gave him a hug. 

“Thanks Daddy. Have fun playing!” She said on her way out. 

“Take your time!” Ellie tacked on. 

He could hear them chatting eagerly about that star-something farm game Gabs was obsessed with all the way down the hall until they disappeared into their next classroom. 

He made a mental note to ask Laura to check and make sure they actually did their homework before they started playing. 

Logan’s watch went off, rhythmic digital beeping interrupting their match and giving away his cover. 

He heard a high pitched whine like the helium in a balloon being let out slowly. 

“Fuck, that went by fast. I barely even broke a sweat. You shoulda played hooky,” Wade complained from his spot in the middle of the floor. He’d gone for taunting Logan out of his hiding spots again instead of giving him something to chase so they’d spent much of the last hour waiting each other out and getting in a few cheap shots but nothing noteworthy. 

“How would that’ve worked, dipshit? We’re a floor below the school. They know I’m here,” Logan argued, stepping out from his hiding spot. 

Wade spun around to face him, having been addressing the entirely opposite side of the room. 

“You know what I mean.” He swung his sword in a wide arc, twisting his wrist and sliding it back into the sheath strapped to his back. 

“Ever considered retirement? It’s super fun. You can do whatever you want whenever you want.”

“Super fun, huh? ‘Cept for the parts where you’re so bored out of your skull you’re usin’ licorice for knife practice, right? Didja forget why we’re here, bub?”

“I mean yeah, there’s that,” he huffed, clearly annoyed at Logan for not going with the bit. 

Logan chuckled and started to slowly circle, corralling Wade into the direction he wanted him pointed as he followed Logan’s movements seemingly automatically. 

“We can keep going if you want. Told the girls they could play video games til we’re done so they’re not in a hurry, trust me.”

Wade’s pout quickly morphed into a wide grin. 

“Devious. Knew I liked you for a reason. What’re you waiting for?” He pulled his sword back out —casting around for the other one which they both spotted at the same time, about equidistant from either of them off to Logan’s left. 

He caught Wade’s eye, clocking the way his weight shifted to support the sprint he was about to break into. Logan crouched, claws extending menacingly. 

Wade’s grin turned maniacal. 

“Let’s fucking go.”

Wade could only flit around for so long before he started to get bored of running; Logan just had to wait him out, giving chase then standing back and letting the man tire himself out, doing Logan’s work for him. It was an effective strategy that took him way too long to catch on to, long enough that when they did finally come together it was an explosion of blades and bullets that rivaled the day before tenfold. 

Logan was having a fucking blast. 

There was a reason he’d said yes to doing this again and it wasn’t because he was altruistic. He’d been operating as strictly intimidation these last few missions, situations either too delicate or too benign to need a heavier hand and as much as he tried to deny it, the beast inside of him craved the violence.  

He charged at Wade, claws sinking deep into his chest, and followed him down to the ground with the strength of it. The triumph only lasted a second because before he could register what was happening Wade’s legs were doing something, then there was a boot against his chest and he was propelled backwards with a force that didn’t seem to follow the laws of physics. 

Logan’s head hit the pavement hard enough to crack it — the pavement, not his skull. The adamantium didn’t break so easy, but just because he wasn’t broken didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch. His ears were ringing and his vision went blurry for a few seconds, long enough for Wade to pop back into his line of sight. The maniac knelt on top of him, blood dripping onto Logan’s cheek as he put most of his weight onto the knee digging into his sternum and the rest of it into the momentum of his sword, driving it down into Logan’s shoulder and severing several muscles and arteries along the way. 

Logan roared in pain and anger, his body naturally arching up in response and only serving to injure himself more. Wade rocked forward, jostled by the movement, and suddenly it wasn’t just pain Logan was feeling. 

The hard line of Wade’s shin was pressed firmly against his groin, and every time he rocked forward to dig his knee further into the center of Logan’s chest and his sword deeper into his shoulder, he created a torturous friction that warred with the other sensations assaulting Logan’s broken brain, mixing in a delicious cocktail of painpleasurepain that had him fighting the urge to buck up into it. 

Which only made him angrier. 

Stupid fucking animal. 

He unsheathed his claws into Wade’s thigh and stomach, using the leverage to push him over into his back and switch their positions. Wade groaned in pain, grip faltering on his sword long enough for Logan to rip it out. The noise he made when the claws slid from his abdomen was long and loud and so fucking erotic that Logan couldn’t stand it. He had to get away from the scene before he did something stupid. And before Wade could see the glaringly obvious way that sound had affected him.

He frowned down at himself as he stalked away, willing his arousal to go the fuck away.

What kind of a goddamn monster gets turned on by evisceration? Was that better or worse than getting turned on by the feeling of metal slicing through his own body? 

“Fuckin’ freak,” he muttered, sick to his stomach. This was what happened when he indulged the beast. Why couldn’t he just be fucking normal for once? 

Wade didn’t mention it, but he did keep his distance — as well as one can while trying to physically assault someone else — because if there was one thing Logan was good at, it was ruining a good time. 

It pissed him off, made him reckless and desperate to close the distance with a vicious determination he really wished surprised him. If Wade objected to the increased brutality, he didn’t show it at all, just upped his own game to match Logan at every turn. 

The scent of gunpowder and his own blood filled Logan’s nostrils, the eight bullets lodged inside his torso a stinging heat as his body worked to reject them. Shit hurt worse coming out than going in sometimes — every time when it was Wade shooting him. Bastard only used hollow points even during practice when a simple FMJ would do the job without rending Logan’s flesh to shit. 

He ignored the pain and focused instead on which soft spots would hurt the most when he stabbed them and how he could get to them without taking another clip to the chest. 

Logan felt the snap of Wade’s collarbone beneath his fist and paused, blinking back the rage that was always so close to the surface. He sat back on his heels, panting heavily, wiping Wade’s blood off on his shorts. 

“Are you done yet?” He sneered, knowing he was being crueler than he should, but unable to stop himself. 

Wade just licked the blood off his lips and looked up at Logan with punch-drunk eyes. 

“I can go all night, babydoll. How ‘bout you?”

“You’re fuckin’ insatiable.” Insufferable. He’d meant to say insufferable. 

“Dunno ‘bout that. Bet you could finish the job if you really put your back into it.”

This time when he felt the bone crack under his knuckles, he didn’t stop. 

“Goddamn. Feel like I’ve been run over by a fucking freight train. In the best possible way.” Wade stretched his arms up high, arching his back and rolling his neck until Logan heard something pop. He sighed, heavy with satisfaction. 

“Is there a good way to get run over by a freight train?” 

Wade dropped his head back and groaned loudly. 

“Ohmygod would you just go with it one time? I just let you break every bone in my body, it’s the least you could do.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Let me?”

Logan must’ve scrambled his brain harder than he thought if he was remembering it that way. 

“Yup. Seemed like you needed a little stress relief, and I was happy to provide.”

“You sayin’ you were offerin’ yourself up as a human stress ball? How giving of you.”

“Mmm I do like to give. And receive. Honestly pretty versatile in the exchange department all around." Wade bowed at the waist, waving his hand around with a flourish. Logan batted it out of the way.  

"And I live to serve. Feel free to squeeze me any time you’re feeling pent up. The deluxe model comes with all sorts of advanced relaxation settings but you’ve gotta pay the subscription for access to those.”

Logan stopped listening somewhere around “free fourteen day trial” and tuned back in to muttered cursing under his breath. 

“Motherfucker.”

Logan looked over at him, half the contents of his gym bag laying scattered on the bench in front of him. 

“You good?”

“Forgot to replace my spare shirt last night. Can’t exactly wear this one.” He held up the tattered remains of what used to be his tee shirt. 

Logan laughed and Wade glowered at him. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, not sorry at all. If he didn’t want it shredded he shoulda taken it off at the beginning. He knew what Logan was working with. 

“The fuck am I supposed to do? Can’t go wandering the hall half-naked, the sight alone could cause irreversible trauma to the psyche of some unsuspecting kiddie unfortunate enough to walk past.” The joking wasn’t quite enough to cover the real distress underlying his tone. 

“They gotta stare at Scott’s ugly mug all day, think they could survive a bare chest with a few scars, bub.”

Wade scoffed. 

“A few— remind me never to trust your estimation skills.” He wrapped his arms around his chest self-consciously, the movement drawing Logan’s eyes to wander over the mottled landscape of scars and musculature. He didn’t really notice them anymore, not as anything weird or grotesque. Wade was just Wade. He supposed it could be jarring for someone who wasn’t used to it, but the mansion was filled with mutants with all sorts of physical adaptations that made them stand out in a crowd. Hell, his own daughter had facial scars and the only bad thing about those was how she’d gotten them. She wasn’t any less beautiful for their existence. Same went for Wade — not that he was beautiful, that wasn’t what Logan meant, just, that it didn’t detract from anything is what he was saying. 

Wade noticed him looking and turned away, digging through his bag again like a shirt might magically appear if he looked hard enough. 

Logan grabbed the jacket from his locker, the one with the stupid little “X” embroidered on the breast pocket they were supposed to wear when training the new recruits. Logan barely ever touched it, always feeling a little too gimmicky teaching in it. 

“Here.” He nudged Wade’s shoulder with the back of his hand, holding out the piece of clothing. 

Wade squinted at it at first like Logan was trying to hand him a concealed bomb, then took it, holding it spread out in front of him. 

His tone shifted. 

“Custom Xavier’s institute merch complete with authentic Wolverine musk? You could make a small fortune on eBay with this puppy.” 

“If I see that on the goddamn internet—”

Wade gasped in horror, clutching the clothing to his still bare chest. 

“How dare you. This is a priceless treasure and I will cherish it until the day I die.”

Logan rolled his eyes, secretly relieved Wade was back to behaving like an idiot, insecurities forgotten in the face of a chance to perform. 

“It’s just a fuckin’ hoodie.”

“One man’s trash, et cetera et cetera.”

“I expect it back.” He didn’t. He knew Wade well enough to know he was never seeing that jacket again. Not that it mattered. The institute would just issue him a new one to gather dust in his locker. 

“Of course,” Wade lied. “I’ll even wash it.”

Yeah, he wasn’t getting that back. 

The thought stoked something stupid and possessive inside of him that he refused to acknowledge. 

Dumb animal. 

Wade turned slightly to unzip the hoodie and as he did, a small flash of red caught Logan’s eye. 

“Hang on, wait.” 

Wade froze, arm through one sleeve.

Logan walked over and wiped the blood from his lower back with his own ruined shirt that was already his hand. There was a sharp intake of breath and Wade flinched at the unexpected touch. 

“Sorry,” Logan apologized, stepping back out of his space. “There was some blood,” he said in way of explanation.

Wade cleared his throat and resumed putting on the jacket. 

“Thanks.”

Logan turned back to his locker, grabbing his change of clothes and giving himself a cursory once over before changing quick and efficient, while Wade stumbled his way into a new topic to ramble about. 

It was white noise to Logan while his brain still tried to process why the fuck his body thought it was a good idea to act like that. 

He needed to get a fucking grip. 

Gabby

“What are you two whispering about over here?”

Gabby looked up from her notebook to see Laura walking into the family room, Oliver (Remy’s grey cat) curled up in her arms. 

Cripes. 

“Nothing!” She and Ellie said in unison, scrambling to cover up the Plan™ before Laura could see. 

She leveled them with an unimpressed stare. 

“Oh yeah, that wasn’t suspicious at allllllll. Spill.” She let Oliver hop down and slink away then snapped her fingers and pointed at Gabby’s folded arms where she was leaning over the paper to hide it. 

“Promise you won’t tell,” Gabby demanded. This was Top Secret material. They couldn’t trust just anybody with it. 

Laura held out both pinkies, long black nails shimmering in the strip of remaining daylight streaming through the open curtains. They linked their fingers, swearing her to secrecy. 

“Okay. Show her,” Ellie said, nodding once. 

Gabby uncovered the notebook and turned it toward Laura so she could read it. 

Operashun Operation Sisterhood

• Step 1: Papi and Daddy become friends ✔️
• Step 2: Papi and Daddy fall in love
• Step 3: Papi and Daddy get marryied and we become SISTERS. Operation compleet!!!

There was a colored pencil drawing of the five of them, Daddy and Mr. Wade holding hands standing behind her and Ellie holding hands and Laura standing off to the side waving. (Ellie had forgotten about her at first and she had to be added in afterwards, but she didn’t need to know that). 

Laura burst out laughing and Gabby snatched the notebook back from her. 

“It’s not done yet,” she defended, scowling at her sister. 

Laura wiped a tear from her eye. 

“No, it’s amazing. The best plan I’ve ever read.”

“You’re being mean,” Gabby accused. Normally this is where she’d threaten to tell Dad, but he couldn’t know what they were doing or the plan would be ruined (and she would probably be grounded until she was forty). 

Laura shook her head, holding her hands up. 

“No, I’m not, I promise. But like, come on. Have you seen them together? Dad’s got his claws out within five minutes every time they talk.”

“Not anymore. They’re friends now; kinda,” Ellie said, not not convincingly. 

“Probably,” Gabby added, trying to help.

“They hang out while we’re in detention.” Good point. Oh also! 

“And they’ve been playing in the danger room and yeah, they’re fighting, but like, in a fun way; daddy’s not angry.”

“Training, not playing,” Laura corrected. Like she knew. Adults used “training” to mean all sorts of things. Bobby said he was “training” playing Ace Combat 7 on the Xbox the other day when Gabby wanted to play Stardew Valley instead and she really didn’t think that counted as flight hours logged. 

“Whatever,” Ellie said, shrugging. “Point is, they’re friends now. Next step, we gotta get ‘em to fall in love.”

Laura rubbed her forehead in that same way Daddy did when spent the whole day teaching and someone asked a stupid question at dinner. 

“And how on earth do you plan on doing that?”

Gabby looked around the empty room, making sure no one was lurking in the doorway. She leaned forward and lowered her voice just in case. 

“A trap, like in the movies,” Gabby explained. They hadn’t actually gotten that far into the details yet. That’s what they were supposed to be doing today but Auntie ‘Roro was covering detention instead of Kitty and Gabby didn’t trust her not to blab to her dad if she overheard them. 

“A trap?” Laura asked, eyebrow raised skeptically. 

“Yeah, like two people who hate each other get stuck on an elevator and by the time they’re rescued they’ve fallen in love. Voila!” Ellie clapped her hands together then spread them out in an arch, wiggling her fingers. 

Laura didn’t look convinced. 

“They would break out of the elevator. Dad hates confined spaces.”

Ellie took the notebook back and crossed something out. 

“So does Papi, so that won’t work cuz one of them has to be all panicky so the other one can calm them down with a kiss.”

“What are you guys watching? Geeze,” Laura muttered under her breath. “Dad doesn’t panic anyway,” she added. 

Gabby was hearing a looooot of negative from her without any helpful ideas. She took the notebook back from Ellie and made a column, one side for Mr. Wade and one side for her dad, then starting listing out things they had in common that they might be able to exploit at a later date. 

Ellie kept arguing with Laura. 

“Papi panics all the time. Says it’s all part of the process.”

Gabby thought about it, perking up when she remembered. 

“Daddy panics in water sometimes. We could trick him into getting in the ocean and then your papi would have to rescue him like in the little mermaid.” Mr. Wade had long legs, she bet he was a really strong swimmer, he could definitely save her dad and who wouldn’t fall in love after getting rescued from jellyfish and sharks and probably sea monsters? It was the perfect plan. 

So of course Laura had to shoot it down. 

Spoilsport. 

“So you want to drown Dad and what? Hope he wakes up with brain damage?”

“Hey!” They cried in unison, Ellie probably in defense of her dad, and Gabby in defense of the plan. They’d been working really hard on these ideas and they were only just getting started so it wasn’t fair to be judged based on the preliminary work. The plan was still in its infancy! (She didn’t really know what all of that meant, but she’d heard the terms thrown around by various X-men in various stages of planning attacks and she could infer enough to know plans shouldn’t be judged until they were fully fleshed out). 

“Sorry, just offering some constructive feedback,” Laura apologized, her tone gentling, and finally started offering insight of her own. “I don’t think starting off with something one or both of them hates is gonna work. They can’t be miserable because then they’ll just blame it on the other one and it’ll make things worse.”

Gabby looked up from her list where she’d just started on the Foods in Common part of it. 

“Wait, are you gonna help?” Both she and Ellie let their mouths hang open in an (only slightly exaggerated) surprised expression. They were sure to succeed with Laura’s help. Daddy wouldn’t be suspicious at all and she could be part of grown-up conversations and stuff that they couldn’t. This was gonna be awesome! 

“Oh yeah, definitely. Because no matter how this ends up, it’s going to be hilarious . And I want a front row seat. Gimmie the notebook.”

Chapter Text

Logan

Logan scanned through the bulletin of available jobs, things that weren’t urgent, but still needed to get done in a timely manner. Usually the sorts of things newbies cut their teeth on, not the sort of jobs the Wolverine would waste his time on, and yet here he was, scrolling down the list sorted by distance. 

He needed to get the fuck away from here. Just for a day or two, nothing crazy. He just needed to clear his head. 

And get laid, his brain so helpfully supplied. 

Yeah, there was that, too. All this stuff with Wade was just transference. Had to be. He was pent up and he needed an outlet; the danger room stuff was just bad timing. 

Speaking of bad timing, there was still one day left before the weekend and he wasn’t about to ask someone to cover for him for something explicitly not urgent and entirely voluntary. He already knew Scott was gonna make a big deal out of him picking something up to begin with (he didn’t typically go out of his way to be helpful), he didn’t need to be grilled twice.  

He found a data drop scheduled for seven o’clock that night. A quick in and out, no-contact pickup about two hours away. He’d have to leave before Gabby was out of detention. As soon as he was done with his last class — actually, might be a good idea to end a little early in case of traffic or some unforeseen roadwork situation.

He clicked the button to accept the job and put his phone away before he could second guess it. 

He’d find something for the weekend later. 

Wade

Wade was looking forward to another danger room session, despite the few hiccups of the day before. He’d packed two extra shirts and made sure to jerk off recently enough to have a handle on his libido, but not recent enough for Logan to smell it on him. Probably. He didn’t have definitive proof Logan could smell it on him, let alone a timeframe for lingering eau du cum, but based on data collected over the years of snide comments and sneers, he felt pretty confident about his estimated window of opportunity. 

Which was a completely normal thing to know about an ex-coworker.   

Logan’s door was shut when he got there, which was weird, but didn’t stop Wade from barging in anyway. Knocking was for strangers. And teacher's pets. 

(Wouldn’t mind being this teacher’s pet)

Shut the fuck up, that’s not helpful. 

“So I was thinking today we could do werewolves—” he cut himself off, realizing he’d just walked into an empty room. 

He turned around slowly, holding out a sliver of hope that Logan would be hiding behind the door ready to jump out and yell “gotcha!”

“Or not…”

Maybe he went to the bathroom?

The lights are off and his stuff’s not here. 

Well fuck. 

He took a few steps towards the desk, then stopped and turned back around. He was at a bit of a loss as to what to do next. 

Leaving would make the most sense, but then what? Wait in his car like a soccer mom? Go sit in the fucking library? 

A gentle knock caught his attention and pulled him back to the present. 

A tall, slender figure appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, giving Wade a toothy smile. 

“Hey, sugah, you lookin’ for Logan?”

“Uh, nope. Just taking the self-guided tour,” he lied, for some unknown reason. He’d had the same routine now every day for over a week, what the fuck else would he be doing in the man’s classroom?

Rogue looked at him a little funny before continuing as if he wasn’t inept at human interaction. 

“Mmhmm. He left early on assignment. Won’t be back til late,” she told him as he cringed internally and hoped his face and body were doing something remotely normal looking. He wished it’d been anyone else who walked by and caught him standing around like a loser who got stood up on prom night, then he wouldn’t have to see the pity in her eyes. For some reason, she liked him — well, she didn’t hate him — and was one of the only X-Men to treat him like an actual human being with feelings and shit. 

Right now, he wished she wouldn’t. 

It was fucking embarrassing. 

He soldiered on.

“Emergency X-assignment and they don’t take the best one? What’d you do to get on Scott’s shit list, rearrange his pocket protectors?”

She laughed, auburn curls bouncing around her shoulders and she shook her head. 

“Nah, it ain’t no emergency, just a little ol’ intel thing. Wolverine’ll be just fine on his own.”

He should’ve just left it at that, but his mouth wasn’t taking orders from his brain, so he kept poking. 

“Wow, sending in the big guns for a little intel thing? Seniority must count for nothing in this place. Private equity is truly a plague no matter the field, huh?”

She held her hands up in defense. 

“Hey, he‘s the one who volunteered,” she told him with a giggle. “Trust me, we all throw our seniority around plenty; some more than others.” 

Wade had stopped listening. 

Bingo. 

There it was, folks. 

Keep people talking long enough and they’ll tell you what you want to hear. Or in his case, don’t want to hear. 

The word rattled around in his brain – volunteered – like a pinball pinging around from memory to memory of things Wade probably did yesterday to make Logan hate him. Again.

If he ever even stopped. 

“You’re waitin’ out your baby girl’s detention, right?” Rogue asked, drawing his attention back. “You want some company?”

The offer was sweet, even if they both knew it wasn’t entirely altruistic. They didn’t trust Wade to be left unsupervised in the mansion (for some reason).

He shrugged it off. 

“Nah, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than babysit little ol’ me. I’ll be just fine on my own.”

She leveled him with a scrutinizing look, making him feel like a bug under a microscope, before eventually conceding. 

“Promise you’ll behave?”

He held up three fingers and placed his other hand over his heart. 

“Scouts honor,” he lied. 

He tried not to let it bother him for the rest of the day, taking Ellie out to dinner so he wouldn’t have the quiet alone time cooking to dwell, helping her with her homework, watching a new bedtime movie so he actually had to try to pay attention. 

But eventually, it was time for bed, which meant quiet and stillness, two things his brain didn’t handle well on a good day. On a day like today, it could only mean one thing: time to spiral. 

Which part was the final straw ya think? The partial nudity? The writhing around on his claws like a whore? All the innuendos finally adding up? One of the voices mused as he wiggled around on his mattress trying to get comfortable. He tossed the blanket on the floor and climbed under the sheet instead. 

“Hey he’s the one who touched me in the locker room, not the other way around,” he replied out loud. 

To stop his shirt from getting ruined. 

It was definitely the claw thing. You heard him. 

Yeah, he’d heard him. His brain had replayed the words in Logan’s voice about a thousand times already and he doubted he’d be forgetting it anytime soon. 

Fuckin’ freak. 

It was too cold with just the sheet. He leaned off the bed and snatched the blanket back up, wrapping himself up in it like a burrito while he tried in vain to defend himself. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose! Trust me, I tried okay? I fucking tried. He was the one arching up into my sword and moaning like he was auditioning for the lead opposite Ewan McGregor in 2001’s Moulin Rouge. A eunuch would get a stiffy in the face of that. It’s not my fault!” 

He was moaning in pain and you were getting off on it. 

“I wasn’t!”

Absolutely were. 

And he knows it. 

All that progress. Gone. 

He buried his head underneath his mountain of character-shaped pillows and stuffed animals.

It wasn’t that big a deal. He’ll get over it. He replied in his head this time, not trusting himself to not scream if he opened his mouth. The urge was strong. 

Wade had done worse things. A poorly timed boner and a little moaning wasn’t Logan’s last straw. It couldn’t be. 

Right? 

Sure…

Maybe he just needed some space. We’ll try again tomorrow. 

By the next day he’d almost convinced himself he was making it all up, that he was overreacting and making the situation about himself when it probably had nothing to do with him. 

How conceited was that? 

Yeah, he was being silly. The world didn’t revolve around him, much as he tried to make it so, and Logan sure as shit didn’t care enough about anything Wade did or said for it to impact him like that.  

His fingers trembled just a little as he reached for the doorknob, and despite all of his false confidence that he’d overreacted, his body let out an actual, honest to god sigh of relief when he opened the door and saw Logan standing there behind the desk.

See? We were being stupid. 

He strolled over to his usual chair, determined to be cool about this. 

“Came by yesterday, but you weren’t here,” he said, just to go ahead and get it out of the way. “Had to go wandering. Did you know there’s a dragon behind one of those locked doors? Fun fact: he doesn’t like beef jerky. Funner fact: he does like fruit snacks though and will bite your fingers off for them if you’re not careful.”

Logan looked uncomfortable. 

Because of the dragon? Or the ghosting? Or just Wade’s general existence? The world may never know. 

He rubbed at the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Last minute assignment, couldn’t get out of it.”

Oh. It’s gonna be like that, huh?

Wade didn’t let his perky demeanor falter, just barreled on. 

“All good man,” he lied. “So I was thinking— what’s with the bag?” He cut himself off, noticing for the first time the duffle bag in Logan’s hands. 

Logan looked down at it like he was just noticing it too. 

“Another job. Just had to grab some things.” He motioned vaguely to his desk. 

Coulda just told Wade to fuck off and saved himself the trouble, and the CO2 emissions. Message received, loud and clear. 

There was an awkward pause. Wade was usually the champion of filling those, but he wasn’t in the mood, and he certainly wasn’t feeling generous enough to fake it just to make it easier for Logan. 

“You’re welcome to hang out in here until detention’s out,” Logan offered. 

How generous. 

“Yeah, thanks.” He offered a closed-lipped smile – that “white people passing each other in a hallway” kind – the most he could manage given the circumstances. Not that it mattered, Logan barely looked at him, just checked his watch and started moving towards the door. 

“Don’t break anything,” he called over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. 

“No promises,” Wade muttered in reply, but the vague threat of destruction had no impact on the retreating form of the Wolverine. 

He waited until Logan was out the door, then took a seat at his desk and began shifting everything one inch to the left. 

He valiantly resisted the urge to snap all of the pencils in half for an entire thirteen minutes before caving to the little demons in his head. 

Logan obviously already hated him, what was a little petty vandalism on top of it?

Logan

Driving through Michigan in the middle of March was admittedly not his best idea, but he knew the contact and he’d recognized the town so he’d accepted the mission before really thinking it through. 

The drive there had been long and quiet. Too quiet. He’d tried drowning out his thoughts with an audiobook but his mind kept drifting too much to keep up with the plot. A phone call to his girls helped kill a bit of time, but he eventually had to hang up when it got to be past Gabby’s bedtime. After that had come six long hours of shifting radio station music that may as well have been white noise for all he heard of it. 

His thoughts kept coming back to what happened in the danger room, justifying it, rationalizing it. 

I don’t want him. I just want someone who can fuck me up and he’s the safest option. 

Logan laughed out loud at the idea of Wade being a safe anything. This was fucking ridiculous. 

It isn’t about him. 

Logan just needed to get laid, then he could tell his libido to calm the fuck down and stop acting up over things that it absolutely should not be acting up about. It’d been too long is all, the dry spell had given him a hair trigger.  

(He actively ignored the thoughts that tried to remind him that he routinely sparred with Hank and had never once gotten hard over it. Or how he’d walked in on Rogue coming out of the showers last Thursday and had left that encounter traumatized, not turned on. 

Irrelevant.)

This wasn’t about Wade. 

It couldn’t be about Wade. That would be insane. Absurd. Completely unhinged. 

Okay, sure, the man had some qualities people found objectively attractive. 

He was tall and broad, with strong hands and thighs Logan had literally seen crush a man’s skull. His proportions were… not lacking, particularly in the shoulder to waist ratio department, with a jawline sharper than his fucking katanas…

He digressed.

This wasn’t about any of that. This was about the fact that he had a healing factor and enjoyed beating Logan up and Logan’s stupid, horny subconscious had latched onto that and run wild, as if any of that translated into permission for Logan to act like a goddamn animal. 

Even if he was attracted to Wade — which he wasn’t — it didn’t make what he wanted right or normal any more than being with anyone else would. 

Normal people didn’t want their partners to stab them during sex. 

That. Was. Not. Okay. Period. 

He just needed a reset. He’d get the sex out of his system, then he could go back to just barely tolerating the man’s presence instead of craving it. 

He arrived in town around six in the morning, early enough to grab a motel room and a couple hours of sleep before his rendezvous. The man he was meeting didn’t keep early morning hours. He was ex-CIA turned anti-government conspiracy theorist. Though, Logan wasn’t sure if you could still call it being a conspiracy theorist if all your theories were right. 

The old cudgel was paranoid as hell — with reason — but always reliable. And he didn’t risk his neck unless it was important. Logan had met him a few times, the first being way back in the seventies. 

Technically, he’d talk to anyone with proof of official X-Men status, but he was a little rough around the edges and had a tendency to talk circles around people he thought he could get one over on. Especially when money was involved. It was why Scott hadn’t fought him on picking up the job. Gary knew better than to waste time trying to bullshit Logan. 

They met up in a diner that’d seen better days, drank coffee that coulda powered his truck while Logan ate one of the best damn burgers of his life, and exchanged nondescript envelopes.

Simple. 

Just the way Logan preferred. 

They spent a little while catching up, speaking around any concrete names or places, carving out sentences with vagueness and finding familiarity in the negative spaces. It was a type of language in and of itself, indirect and full of half-truths and partial lies, one that they were both adept at by this stage in their lives. You start to get a feel for it after so long in their line of work. 

After a few hours and a couple refills, they said their goodbyes and Logan headed back to his motel, newly acquired envelope tucked into a secret compartment under his bench seat, locked up tight, safe and sound with the highest of high tech security equipment. 

He sat his phone on the cheap plastic nightstand and powered it on while he riffled through his bag for his toothbrush. 

He kept his personal phone turned off most of the time when he was on missions. He knew the safest option would be to not take it with him at all. That, logically, Charles would be able to get in touch with him if something happened, phone or not, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that, not on simple trips like this one. Gabby still had nightmares – Laura too sometimes – what if they needed to talk? Telepathy was fine and all, but sometimes you just needed to hear a person’s voice to know that it’s going to be okay. 

He never wanted to be unreachable when they needed it. 

He nearly had a heart attack when his phone finally loaded and message alert after message alert came through. 

He rushed to pick it up, then collapsed onto the bed in relief when he saw it was just Wade. The adrenaline quickly turned to anger. He’d explicitly told the bastard not to use this number except in dire emergencies. He almost ignored them out of spite, but there was that tiny chance it actually was an emergency and whatever Logan was feeling towards him, he wouldn’t risk that.

Wade: hey, I kno I promised not 2 txt u (except for dire emergencies), but I took the girls 2 the art museum (Laura said u were fine with it???) and they were being stupid cute posing in front of all the big portraits so, photo dump. 

Wade: k sry bye 

What followed were about fifty pictures of Ellie and Gabby standing in front of different portraits and statues, posing like the subjects. There were even a few of them sitting on a bench in the middle of a statue garden with their sketchbooks out, a tin of colored pencils sitting between them. 

He saved them all, his favorite a close up of Gabby studying a renaissance painting, pencil pressed to the corner of her mouth and sketchbook in hand like a tiny art critic. 

He closed out of his messages and called her. 

“Daddy!!” 

He’d learned from experience to hold the phone away from his ear when she first picked up, always so excited to hear from him. It was crazy how different she and Laura were for being genetically the same. He was lucky if Laura said five words in the course of a conversation, which usually made their calls short, stilted, awkward things since his own phone etiquette could be considered lacking at best. 

Gabby though. 

“I had such a fun day today. Mr. Wade took us to the art museum and we walked around the whoooole entire building. It’s like forty hundred miles at least. And I brought my sketchbook and we sketched all the cool statues and paintings and even our lunch! Ellie’s really good at drawing. She showed me this thing where you make a whole bunch of lines in one direction then go back over them the other direction and it makes it look like a shadow. I’ll show you when you get home. When are you coming home? I hope it’s soon. Mr. Wade let us go to the gift shop and he said I could get whateeeeever I wanted, even if it was a million dollars – I didn’t get anything that ‘spensive though don’t worry. I got this supercool pen that can be like six different colors and a bunch of neat flip books with my favorite paintings and a poster to hang on my wall. Can you hang it up for me when you get back? When are you coming back?” 

That was probably more than his entire daily allotment of words. 

“I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. M’glad you had a good time today. Did you remember to tell Mr. Wade thank you?”

“Yeah duh of course. Oh! We’re going to the science museum next weekend. Will you come too? Please please please please pleeeeeeeease?”

Two points there: nowhere in that sentence had she actually asked for permission to go, and the thought of spending an entire day with Wade right now was almost enough to make him text Scott and ask for an assignment next weekend just so he’d have an excuse not to. 

He managed to get away with a non-committal noise and a quick change of subject. They’d discuss it later. Or maybe she’d forget. 

He let her talk until it was nearly her bedtime and he could hear ‘Roro in the background calling for her to go brush her teeth. 

He thought about texting Wade back to say thanks, but a tiny, not insignificant part of him was feeling jealous and petty about his daughter having such a good time with someone else – especially since he was supposed to take her to the museum weeks ago, but the plans had fallen through day of and she hadn’t brought it up again so he’d assumed she wasn’t interested anymore. 

Look, he never said he was good at this shit. 

He put his phone away and got up. Goddammit. He was supposed to be getting Wade out of his head.

It was almost as easy to find a place to drink in Michigan as it was in New York. Not much else to do in that kind of weather.

The place he found himself in was busy enough for him to blend in, but not too packed to be obnoxious. He only had to wait a minute or two for the kid behind the bar to notice him, and then he was ready to sit back with his scotch and watch. 

Not that he was looking for anything in particular. 

If the man who approached him happened to be tall with broad shoulders and a slim waist, it wasn’t intentional. He just happened to be the first to offer to buy Logan a drink (and if that had been because Logan's scowl and cold shoulder had scared the others off, well, if Logan was good at one thing, it was lying to himself). 

They didn’t waste much time with pleasantries. After an initial refill of his scotch and a couple of shots for luck, they left the bar together. The man – whose name Logan immediately forgot – lived close enough to walk in some nondescript apartment that screamed average in every possible way. 

It all went exactly how he knew it would. The man was all cocky and confidence in the bar, but he’d picked Logan for a reason. 

He didn’t mind; he liked being on top (and it’s what people were expecting when they fucked him anyway) and control for him was a requirement, not an option. It wasn’t a hardship to lean into it. He didn’t have the luxury of being able to lose himself in pleasure the way most people could. When he fucked somebody, he had to be constantly aware, of his movements, his weight, his claws. 

The closest he could get was when they rode him, but he still couldn’t let himself go completely, he had to think about what his hands were doing – was he squeezing too tight? Were his claws about to come out? 

Even just kissing was a chore — one that was usually worth it, but it took effort. Had to watch his fangs, make sure they didn’t catch; don’t bite too hard, don’t growl too much. 

It took so much effort for him to just be normal. 

It’s why sex wasn’t a huge priority for him. He liked it, yeah, but most of the time he wasn’t going out of his way for it. One-night-stands in nameless towns with nameless bodies looking for something rough and dangerous who’d be gone by sunrise were his usual m.o. and it worked for him. 

It was enough. 

Even if he did find a partner who wouldn’t break if he lost control — at least not permanently— it didn’t mean he could. It wasn’t a risk he could take. Just because a bruise or broken bone healed didn’t mean it didn’t hurt; he would know.

He was just the freak who liked it that way. 

He left his motel shower a few hours later loose limbed and exhausted, and extremely satisfied with the outcome of this trip. That should do the trick. 

He stretched out on the stiff mattress, weighing the pros and cons of just sleeping in the truck cab for all the comfort the bed afforded, and checked his phone one last time out of habit before going to sleep. 

When he saw Wade’s name pop up again, he wished he hadn’t. 

Wade: realized I forgot 2 send these earlier. Jumpscare warning: I’m in some of them, but the girls are 2 cute 2 not share. And I cropped what I could 

Wade: ok sry bye again

This set was taken in a restaurant, action shots of the girls sketching their meals then holding their sketchbooks up for the camera to compare the likeness. Wade must’ve been in on it too because the last few photos were clearly taken by the waiter, the three of them holding up crayon drawings of an ice cream sundae that was visibly melting in front of them. The girls were on either side of him, which explained what he meant about the cropping. He couldn’t cut himself out of it and splice the ends of it together without cutting out the image of the dessert, which was integral to the scene. So instead, he’d simply marked himself out of it with black and red stripes, making a weird Wade-shaped void in the center of the photograph. 

Logan’s stomach twisted into knots looking at them, but he refused to dwell too heavily on why. 

He closed the messaging app and tossed his phone back on the nightstand. It’d been a long day, a long week, he didn’t want to deal with this shit anymore. He was over it. 

Laughter rings in his ears, melodic, beautiful, and just a little bit cruel, stoking the fire in his gut. 

“This what you want?” A sharp stinging starts at the base of his spine and trails upwards. “Don’t worry angel baby, I won’t make you beg. This time.”

The blade slips into his shoulder, smooth and slow, drawing out the moment so he feels every single place it slices him open. It’s sharp enough there’s very little resistance until he’s hilt deep and Logan’s panting, mewling at the burn, his body struggling to stay still. 

“Isn’t that a pretty sight? Never woulda guessed you'd be the type to just lay there and take it.”

Logan growls, tries to get his hands under him but is pressed roughly back down into the mattress by the knife in his back and a hand at the base of his neck. 

“Stay,” he commands, his honeyed tone turning to stone for just long enough for Logan to remember who's in charge here. “Good kitty.” 

Lips press kisses in between praise into Logan’s shoulder blades, licking up the bloody trail the knife left. 

“Fucking get on with it.” Logan’s voice sounds wrecked and his words come out slurred and whiny instead of demanding like he’s intending. 

Another laugh bubbles up from the man behind him, the vibration of it reverberating in Logan’s core. 

“I like you like this, needy little thing. But don’t you worry. I can go all night babydoll, no need to rush. You’ll get what you’re after, just gotta be patient.”

The scene shifts –  he’s on his back and there’s a tongue between his fingers, teasing, daring, reckless. 

Fingers slide over top of Logan’s, curling, folding them into a fist. Logan’s breath catches as his wrist is pulled and his knuckles brush against a solid stomach. 

A moan above him, loud and long, a hand grasping at the sheets next to his head, begging pants against the shell of Logan’s ear, “do it, please.”

He pulls out slowly then slams back in, startling a moan from Logan’s parted lips. The rhythm speeds and falters, body chasing release, mouth whining and begging for Logan’s claws to push him over the edge. 

There’s a knife in his chest that jostles with every thrust, small sparks of pain dancing across his nerves. The pressure against his fist increases as the body above him presses into it. “Need you inside me too, please baby, give ‘em to me.”

Logan jolted awake, panting like he’d just run a marathon, covered in sweat and hard as nails. He was so keyed up a slight breeze probably would’ve set him off. He didn’t think, just slid a hand beneath his waistband and gave in to the lingering fantasy, the rapidly fading ghost of fingers in his hair and his knuckles pressed flush against scar tissue; the phantom sticky slickness of blood between his fingers.

Fuck. 

So much for getting it out of his system. 

By the time Monday rolled around he was starting to wish he hadn’t let his sympathetic nervous system get the better of him. 

He was friends with plenty of people he’d thought about naked; hell, he was friends with a handful of people he’d been naked with. He was capable of maturing and moving on. And when those two options failed, compartmentalizing. 

It didn’t have to be a thing. 

Wade stopped by his classroom at the end of the day, unannounced. Logan caught his scent before he heard him, but carried on grading pop quizzes without glancing at the door. 

“Wow, you look like shit,” Wade told him, in lieu of greeting. He didn’t doubt it. He’d slept about a total of four hours in the last two days. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, not looking up. “Detention’s over.”

“Yeah I know, I uh, just wanted to return this.” He held up a messily folded piece of clothing and dropped it on the desk in front of Logan, then took a couple steps back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Washed it and everything. Woulda got it dry cleaned, but I know how you feel about it ending up on eBay. Sooooooo, yeah. Anyway. I’ll get out of your hair.”

From anyone else it would’ve been a normal gesture — expected, even. But from Wade? A slammed door would’ve been more subtle. And Logan couldn’t even be mad about it. Wasn’t his fault Logan was a fucking monster who couldn’t handle his own shit. 

He shouldn’t’ve ghosted him; now he’d not only made it super fucking awkward for the foreseeable future — since the girls were unlikely to have a falling out any time soon — he’d also heralded the end of something that’d never even had a chance to start. 

Good fucking job him. 

Logan glared at the offending piece of clothing, not sure what he was more annoyed at: it, Wade, or himself. 

Goddammit, this is stupid. 

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced up to the sight of Wade walking silently away. 

“Wait. Um,” he started, not really sure where he was going but not wanting to leave it like that. Wade stopped with his hand on the doorframe, looking back over his shoulder in Logan’s direction. 

“The pictures,” he started, but Wade immediately cut him off, wincing. 

“I know, sorry. Shoulda just sent ‘em to Laura. It was a busy day; I wasn’t thinking.”

Logan frowned. 

“Was just gonna say thanks. And for taking her to the museum. Been meanin’ to go, just, busy.”

“Oh.” Wade’s face did something unreadable – at least to Logan – before settling back at his default. “Wasn’t a problem. Only one of us got yelled at by the rent-a-cop art gestapo and it wasn't either of the kids. Pro tip: if you have to sneeze while you’re standing near a portrait, just die instead; it’s less offensive.”

Logan chuckled. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was a pause where usually Wade would be filling the silence but wasn’t. It made his throat itch. He swallowed, wetted his lips, but no words came. He wasn’t good at this.

“That it?” Wade was already turning back around to go. 

“Yeah.” Logan looked back down at the stack of papers on his desk. What else was he supposed to do?

Wade gave him a closed mouthed smile and nod. 

“Cool. See ya ‘round.”

He didn’t wait for Logan to reply.

Chapter Text

Ellie

“Something’s wrong,” Ellie announced, slamming her stack of books down on the lunch table. It’d been two weeks since they’d shared The Plan™ with Laura and since then everything had gone to crud. 

Instead of waiting for her at the gate after school now, Papi waited in the car, same as when he picked her up from the park when it was Mr. Logan’s turn to watch them. And whenever she asked if they could all go out to dinner again he shot her down with some flimsy excuse about wanting some quality daddy-daughter time even though they had dinner together every night! 

She kept asking and he kept saying no. Papi hardly ever told her no. 

Something weird was going on. 

“I concur,” Gabby said with a single, sharp nod of her head, holding up her pointer finger. “Let’s go find Laura.”

Ellie grabbed her sweater, stopping her in her tracks. 

“But what if it’s her fault? Do you think she blabbed?” She wasn’t totally convinced Laura could be trusted. She was a grown-up, and grown-ups generally couldn’t be. (Except Papi. And Mr. Logan). But Gabby trusted her and if two out of three family members were cool, it was probably safe to assume the third was as well. 

Still, she had to be sure.  

“No way. Laura wouldn’t do that,” Gabby said with total certainty, shaking her head. “‘Sides, Daddy woulda grounded me if she told. C’mon, she’ll know what to do.”

They found Laura in the family room playing something on the Xbox and sat down on the table in front of her. 

She said a bad word then hit a bunch of buttons at once, before tossing the controller on the other side of the couch and glaring at them. 

“This better be important. I have to restart the entire thing now.” 

It was important. SUPER important. Their future was in jeopardy and she was complaining about a video game!?!

“Something happened,” Ellie said, seriously. “I dunno what, but Papi’s been moping since we got out of detention. I think we’re back to stair one.”

“Square one,” Laura corrected. Whatever, she’d heard it both ways. “Dad’s been acting weird too. Quieter than usual – which is saying something.”

“And grumpier,” Gabby added. 

“Yeah that too. Nearly bit my head off for drinking the last of the coffee this morning and it was hazelnut; he doesn’t even like hazelnut!” 

“So what do we do?” Ellie asked the room, hoping for some useful input. She’d been thinking about it all weekend and had come up with nothing. 

“We could get in trouble again, see if that helps,” Gabby suggested. Hey, that wasn’t a bad idea. It worked last time. 

Laura leveled her sister with an impressive glare. 

“Gabrielle Elizabeth don’t you fucking dare.”

Gabby rolled her eyes. 

“It was just a suggestion,” she muttered. Ellie patted her back supportively. 

“I still like the trap idea,” Ellie put out there. 

Laura opened her mouth (probably to shoot it down again) when the bell rang for the end of lunch. 

“Keep thinking about it,” she told them instead, reaching for the video game controller. “I’ll let you know if I figure something out.”

Laura

She didn’t think about it again until dinner time, when the solution practically fell in her lap. 

“Need your help on Saturday,” her dad announced as he walked into the kitchen and immediately pushed her feet off the counter where she was lounged back in the chair so that he could get dinner started. 

She was technically supposed to be helping. And she was. By not accidentally burning the kitchen down. There were a lot of things she was good at, and cooking was not one of them. Take-out existed for a reason, in her opinion. 

“What for?” she asked, propping her feet up on the barstool next to her instead. 

“Simple data extraction. Shouldn’t take more than a day.” 

He came back from the refrigerator with an armful of vegetables. He placed a cutting board and knife in front of her and slid a carton of mushrooms over, grabbing an onion for himself. 

“Go wash your hands.” 

She rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. 

“Why do you need backup if it’s simple?” She asked, wiping her hands on the dishtowel and returning to her cutting board. 

He tilted his hand from side to side. 

“Simple-ish. There’s explosives involved and a bypass code that takes two people working in tandem.” 

“And you need someone else with a healing factor in case we fuck up,” she finished for him. 

He huffed. 

“Just a precaution.”

A lightbulb went off in her brain. 

Oh my god, this is perfect. 

She couldn’t’ve planned it better herself. She carefully controlled her breathing, keeping her heart rate steady as she prepared her lie so her dad would be none the wiser. 

She couldn’t always get away with it, but she was getting better at it. She hoped this would be one of those times. 

It was for his own good. 

“Can’t. Me ‘n Gabby are having a girls day. I promised,” Laura lied, hoping down to grab a bowl for her veggies so that any change in heart rate could be attributed to the sudden movement. 

She waited a beat, then, as if it just occurred to her added, “why don’t you ask Wade?”

She watched his knife slip, just barely missing slicing through his thumb. She hid her grimace behind a faked cough. 

Whoops. Shoulda timed that better.  

“Why would I do that?” he asked through gritted teeth. 

She had to navigate this carefully or it was going to blow up in her face. 

She shrugged, feigning an air of nonchalance as she reached for the broccoli. 

“He’s got a healing factor and no job; why not? Ellie can hang with me and Gabby, I’m sure she won’t mind.”

It was soooooo perfect. And it made so much sense he couldn’t possibly fight it. 

“Or, you reschedule,” he suggested. 

“No way. She’ll throw a fit. Last time I broke a promise she lit my pillow on fire and dumped the ashes back on my bed, remember? I do. Once was enough, thanks.” It was right after they’d moved here and she was a lot more stable nowadays, but Laura wasn’t dumb enough to test it and neither was their dad. 

He sighed, chopping the peppers more aggressively than Laura thought necessary. 

Why did he always have to be so fucking stubborn? 

She tried again. 

“She’s been talking about this for weeks.” Guilt could be a powerful tool if wielded properly. 

“First I’ve heard of it,” he muttered, but she could see his resolve crumbling. “Fine. I’ll just go alone.”

Oh my fucking God. 

“You just said you need two people.”

“Maybe the elf—”

For fuck’s sake! 

“You’d risk Kurt’s life out of pettiness? Seriously?” 

“If you knew him you’d understand,” he grumbled, snatching the bowl from her and taking it over to the stove, turning his back to her. 

She threw a discarded carrot top at his head. 

“Oh my god, just ask Wade! You said it shouldn’t take more than a day. You can be civil for a day.” He growled, but offered no other argument as he started clearing up their mess. “Heard you guys are friends now anyway.”

His head snapped up, looking at her like she’d lost her mind. 

“From who?”

“Gabby. She’s over the moon about it.” Not technically a lie, just a creative truth. 

She watched the fight drain from his eyes, replaced with reluctant resignation. 

Ha! Bingo. 

She was so good at this. She should get an award. This was definitely going in her wedding speech. 

Her dad’s shoulders sagged and he rubbed at his forehead like he was trying to get rid of a headache. 

“Fine,” he said, sounding like he was agreeing to get on a plane to a scuba trip instead of asking a sort of friend for help. 

Why are men so dramatic? 

He pointed his spatula at her. 

“But if I get blown up because of him, you’re grounded.”

Laura found the girls at lunch the next day, not wanting to tell Gabby on her own since they were both so invested.

“I think I figured out how to fix it. That or I’ve fucked it up completely and we’re about to become orphans.”  

She’d agreed to help at first because she thought it was going to be a laugh, but honestly? She was getting kinda caught up in their enthusiasm. The idea of her dad and Deadpool becoming an item was still hilarious to her, but it also kinda made sense? They were weirdly perfect for each other. If only they could get their heads out of their asses and get over themselves long enough to see it. 

“What did you do?” Gabby asked, looking alarmed. 

“Dad’s gonna ask Wade to help with a job this weekend.”

“How?”

“Why?”

They asked at the same time. Laura looked around the lunchroom, making sure none of her dad’s friends were close enough to eavesdrop, then leaned in to her captive audience. 

“Dad asked me to help out on a two man job, but I lied and told him we have a girls day planned and you’re super excited about it so I couldn’t possibly get out of it. He needs someone with a healing factor so I casually suggested Wade. This is where you come in. You’ve gotta convince your dad to say yes when our dad asks him. Tell him how much you want to have a girls day with us or I don’t know, play up how happy you guys are that they’re getting along now. That definitely had an effect on our dad.”

They stared at her in awe and she sat back, tossing her hair over her shoulder and crossing her arms. 

She was so brilliant. 

“You’re kinda awesome for an old person,” Ellie finally said. 

Laura’s smirk vanished into a scowl. 

“I’m eighteen, mocosa,” she corrected. 

Ellie just shrugged and stuffed a handful of fries into her mouth. 

Brat.  

Logan

Logan’s fingers hovered over the phone keyboard, same as they had been for the last twenty minutes. 

He could do this. 

He began typing, then stopped, erased the two word sentence and put the phone down. 

You know what? Maybe he didn’t actually need another person for this job. There had to be some kind of remote drone something or other that could type in a passcode and turn a key. Isn’t that what the military paid Stark for? 

The bell rang and Gabby’s class started shuffling in. She and Ellie gave him matching smiles and waves as they walked to their desks hand in hand. 

Okay universe, he got the hint. He’d suck it up and text the man. He was probably gonna say no anyway and then Logan could figure something else out and still say he tried. 

He shoved his phone in one of his desk drawers. He’d get to it later. 

Logan: You busy this weekend? 

Not the most eloquent opener, but it got the job done. Logan sat his phone back down on his desk, not really expecting a reply. Other than maybe Wade (rightfully) telling him to fuck off. They hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms since the danger room stuff. He wasn’t outright hostile, but there was definitely a wall that hadn’t been there before. 

Before Logan fucked it up. 

And for what? Not a goddamn thing, that’s what. 

Bzzzzdt

Wade: we can b free. skate park?

That was a fair assumption to make. There was no precedent for what Logan was actually asking. He clarified. 

Logan: You. Specifically. 

Wade: …

Wade: …

Logan waited out the little dots that kept appearing and disappearing on his screen as Wade took longer than expected to reply. 

At least he was replying at all. Logan wouldn’t have blamed him if he hadn’t. 

Wade: For…?

Logan wondered what else he’d typed and deleted before settling on the terse reply. 

Logan: Job. Needs two people, ideally ones who can withstand an explosion, and Laura’s busy with Gabs. Said she’ll watch Ellie if you’re in. 

There was a long pause, long enough that Logan put his phone down and went back to grading homework so he had something to do other than stare at his phone like a teenager. 

The response came nearly twenty minutes later. 

Wade: Can I get back 2 u on that?

Well, it wasn’t a no, technically. Yet. 

Logan: Sure. Know you said you’re done with this kinda stuff, but if it helps, it’s low level shit — just high level security. Anything goes south it’ll be on the X-Men, not you.

Wade: Thx. I’ll let u know 

He put his phone away, annoyed that now that he’d had a chance to think about it, part of him actually wanted Wade to say yes. 

Didn’t matter. “I’ll let you know” was universal small talk code for “I already decided it’s not happening, but I’m gonna pretend to forget we had this conversation until after the event when it’s too late to do anything about it.”

Logan doubted he’d be hearing anything else from him until next Monday at the earliest. 

Which was fine. Honestly. He’d figure something else out.  

Wade

“Hey mija, can I talk to you about something real quick?” He asked that night after dinner. He’d debated about it all day, whether to even bring it up at all, and had finally settled on his usual plan of seeing where things went. There was no use in him wasting time deciding if he wanted to do it if Ellie wasn’t okay with the idea, so asking her was step one. He’d figure the rest out later. 

He caught her by the waist as she got up to leave the table, pulling her to stand in front of his chair and taking both of her little hands in his. They were almost getting too big to fit in just his one hand. 

She's getting too big. Who authorized her to grow up? I want names. 

Can’t be stopped. 

I mean. There’s always time travel…

“What?” She asked, cocking her head to the side — a habit she was picking up from Gabby. 

He took a deep breath, working up the courage to ask what he wanted to ask. 

Right. I’ve got this. Maximum effort. 

“How would you feel about me doing a job again, as Deadpool?”

Her eyes widened and for a split second he thought she was going to shout, but she didn’t. 

“You’re gonna be superheroing again?!”

“Not exactly,” he rushed to clarify. “It’s just a small thing.”

“But it’s bad guys, right?” She asked, all serious-like. 

“Yeah, it’s bad guys. But I promise it’s lowkey, and a one-time thing. I’m just helping out—”

She cheered, throwing her hands up in the air and jumping up and down. That wasn’t the response he’d been expecting, then again, she didn’t know the reason he’d stopped in the first place. 

And never will. 

“This is so cool! You’re gonna be a superhero again!”

Wade didn’t have the heart (or balls) to correct her that he’d never been a superhero to begin with. Maybe an anti-hero; superhero-adjacent, at best. 

Maybe this was his chance to do something in the suit that she could be proud of. 

“Do you need backup? I could be your backup; I’m getting really good at throwing stuff. I’ve been practicing.” She mimed throwing a couple knives at the TV. 

“I know, I’ve seen your bedroom wall,” he teased. He was the one who’d hung up the dartboard, so really, he only had himself to blame for the holes in the drywall. “I appreciate the offer, but if you came with you’d miss hanging out with Laura and Gabby for a whole day.”

“But who’s gonna watch your back?” 

Wade smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“It's my job to look after you, not the other way around.” 

“But we’re a team.”

Ooof. Right in the heartstrings. 

“Yeah, we are,” he said, with completely dry eyes and definitely no lump in his throat whatsoever. “Don’t worry bug, I’ll have Mr. Logan with me and he’s the best there is at what he does.”

She crinkled her eyebrows together. 

“Teaching?” 

Wade busted out laughing. That was possibly the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He wished he’d been recording this conversation for posterity so he could play that back whenever Logan was being particularly annoying. 

Ah, kids. 

“That, yes, and fighting bad guys.”

“Oh,” she said, taking a second to process before her demeanor changed right back to being excited. “That’s okay then, Mr. Logan can keep you safe. He can be pretty scary, like when he caught this one kid cheating and he sliced their whole test in half with his claws in front of the entire class. Bet he could slice a whole person in half if he tried.”

He can definitely do that. 

He wasn’t about to tell her that though. 

“Well, hopefully we won’t have to find out. Like I said, it’s just a little thing, probably won’t even need weapons. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, okay?”

“Okay. But if Mr. Logan does have to slice somebody in half, can you take a picture for me?”

“Of course.”

He absolutely would not be doing that. 

Now that Ellie had given her blessing, he had to decide if he actually wanted to go through with it. As much as he tried not to let it bother him, he was having a hard time getting over the whole post-danger room situation. He was more angry at himself for caring than he was at Logan for running away. He’d told himself he wouldn’t do this; he wasn’t going to fall back into that stupid crush, he wasn’t going to pine.

But then Logan had to go and be all… nice and soft and perfect and for just a second he forgot. He forgot that this wasn’t some rom-com and his life didn’t work like that. He'd used up all his good karma points and then some when the universe had given him Ellie, and he was a-okay with that. It was more than he deserved to get to be her dad. It would be selfish to want more. 

He knew that. He knew better than to get his hopes up, it was just… there had been moments – few and far between, but moments all the same – that it’d felt like they were getting somewhere, like they understood each other. 

(Someone would have to be certifiably insane to understand us)

And sure even on his most delusional days he knew Logan would never think about him like that, but he thought they might be moving towards friendship at least. 

Maybe he was reading too much into it. 

It wasn’t exactly out of character for Logan to pull a Houdini instead of having a conversation. For someone who was so good at physical confrontation, he couldn’t have an emotional one to save his life. The man was clinically allergic to having a feeling, unless it was anger. 

At least, he used to be.

So if the option was blow up at Wade for his disgusting, inappropriate reactions or take a walk, he supposed it made sense that he’d taken off. Especially since Gabby didn't seem like she'd stand for the murder of her bestie’s dad - regeneration or no. 

Wade opened his messages and reread their last conversation. 

He should just say no.

What about Ellie? She’s so excited for us to be fighting bad guys. 

It’s low level crap. 

Bad guys are bad guys. And it’s X-Men adjacent. 

Did you see the look on her face? 

Gotta pick: her pride or yours?

Well, when put that way…

He couldn’t stay upset about it forever, and Wade’s cold shoulder certainly wasn’t impacting Logan’s day to day. His attitude towards Wade hadn’t changed, if anything he'd maybe seemed a little nicer in the cumulative ten minutes they’d spent together in the past two weeks.

If Logan was over whichever of the hundred and one things Wade could’ve done to piss him off and make him run, Wade could be over being mad at him about it. 

He’d just have to work harder at keeping himself in check. He’d worked with tons of people he wanted to fuck and it’d worked out fiiiiiiiine. He did possess some self restraint when the situation called for it. Besides, he’d spent ages keeping a lid on his massive boner for the Wolverine, not like this was new territory for them. 

(Okay, so some of it was new territory. He’d been a lot more interested in getting railed than holding hands back in the day, but those softer urges should be easier to resist, right?)

Logan

Wade: How far away? 

Logan was surprised to see the question come through the next day. Did that mean he was actually considering it?

Logan: 4hr drive. 

Wade: What no jet? 

Logan: I’m not getting on a fucking plane for a job 4hrs away. 

Wade sent back a laughing emoji, to which Logan replied with a middle finger. 

Dick. 

Wade: Same day?

Wade texted a few hours later. 

Logan: Unless we fuck up, should be simple in and out. Few hours tops+drive. 

A few more hours passed before Wade texted again. 

Wade: Laura def doesn’t mind watching El?

Logan put his fork down to reply. He’d already double checked with Laura, anticipating that question. 

Logan: Her and Gabs have a girls day planned. Ellie’s invited whether you say yes or not. 

Wade: Well she’s in for sure 

Logan: And you?

Wade: …

Wade: …

The little dots disappeared but this time no reply followed. Logan stared at the screen for a few more minutes before shoving it back in his pocket. 

A few minutes before midnight Logan’s phone buzzed, an obnoxious bzzzzzdt bzzzzzzdt against the wood of his nightstand. 

Wade’s reply was short and to the point. 

Wade: I’m in 

A tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying all day finally loosened in his shoulders, and for the first time in two weeks he managed to get an entire six hours of solid sleep. Things were looking up.   

The girls found him at the end of the day as he was leaving his classroom, Gabby running at full speed and jumping into his arms. 

“Woah there,” he said, catching her just in time. She was lucky he had fast reflexes. “Ooof you’re getting too big for that,” he teased.

Gabby stuck out her tongue, climbing around him like a jungle gym until she was situated on his shoulders. 

“Nuh-uh. You can lift like ten thousand pounds.”

“Not quite. Close though.” He tickled her knee, grabbing her tightly with his other hand so she wouldn’t squirm away and fall. 

He started walking toward the front door, Ellie skipping along next to them. 

“What time’s Ellie coming over on Saturday?” 

“Laura said the earliest she’s getting up is nine.”

“What about the mission?” Ellie “whispered” behind her hand right as they reached the gate where Wade was standing waiting for her. 

“It’s not time sensitive. We can leave whenever.”

He felt Gabby lean forward, bracing her boney elbows on the top of his head.

“That means you can stay for breakfast! Laura’s making pancakes,” Gabby told Wade. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Wade laughed. 

“Sounds like a blast.” He gave her outstretched fist a bump with his own. 

“Papi can make them. He makes the bestest pancakes in the whole world,” Ellie volunteered for him, staring up at her father like he was personally in charge of making the stars shine. 

“That's true. There was a contest and everything. Beat out Flapjack Willie and his gang of pâtissiers. It was a whole thing.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but felt the corner of his mouth raise regardless. 

“You don’t have to make them pancakes,” he said, trying not to think too hard about it. Wade just shrugged it off. 

“I don’t mind. It would be criminal to keep a talent like this all to myself.”

“Suit yourself,” he said over the growing clamor around them as more and more parents started to arrive. “See ya Saturday.” He and Gabby waved goodbye and he walked them back inside, still trying not to think about waking up to Wade in his kitchen making his family breakfast.

Chapter Text

Logan

Weekend mornings saw a much less crowded kitchen than the weekdays when everyone was awake at the same time grabbing coffee and various definitions of breakfast. Instead most of them usually chose to sleep in or get out of the mansion on their day off. 

“Everyone” meaning the X-Men and adjacent family (which currently only consisted of Gabby and Laura, though Laura was on her way to earning her official X-Man status any day now).  

Nine a.m. was still far too early to be up looking for breakfast on a Saturday for most of them.

Logan had been up since six, his requisite five hours of sleep met, his body had refused to rest any longer. 

He’d been meaning to deep clean the kitchen for a while now anyway. 

He was finishing up his second cup of coffee and the last chapter of his most recent Vonnegut when Ellie came bounding in, swinging a canvas bag from her arm. 

Logan put his book down, expecting a ruckus that didn’t follow. 

“Mornin’ chiquitina, where’s your dad?”

“Talking to the scary blonde lady at the door,” she explained, dropping her bag and sliding onto the bench next to Gabby. 

Logan furrowed his brow, trying to think who she might be talking about. 

“The scary— goddammit Illyana.” He put his mug down a little more forcefully than he’d meant, getting up to go rescue Wade. “I’ll be right back.”

He was right; it was Illyana standing in the middle of the doorway, blocking Wade from entering. She looked his way when she heard him approaching, a look of relief on her face. She tended to tire of dealing with people even quicker than he did. 

“Good, Wolverine’s here. Can you handle this, please? It’s too early, I don’t have the energy.” 

“Sure. Come on in bub, the kitchen’s that way.” He pointed over his shoulder in the direction he’d come from. 

Wade took a step forward but was stopped by Illyana's outstretched hand while she still stared at Logan like he’d lost his damn mind. 

He’d known that wasn’t gonna work, but it woulda been real nice if it had. 

“Excuse me, what the hell was that?”

Logan sighed. 

“Just let him in, Illyana. He’s helping with a mission. Didn’t you read the briefing?”

“Did you write a briefing?”

She had him there. He assumed Slim put it in an email somewhere. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter; he’s my guest. You have a problem with that, take it up with Chuck.” He looked pointedly from her face down to where her palm was planted firmly against Wade’s chest, then back up to her narrowed eyes. 

She crossed her arms, scowling. 

“Maybe I will,” she bluffed. 

“No you won’t.” He rolled his eyes, calling her on it. 

She spat a venomous handful of creative curses in Russian that Logan really hoped Wade didn’t understand, before storming off. 

Logan winced, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Sorry about that.”

Wade just shrugged it off. 

“No one here likes me, but she’s always hated me just a little bit harder than everyone else. I admire the consistency.” 

Logan shook his head and stepped aside so Wade could finally come in. He was already exhausted of this day and it was only a quarter past nine. 

“Come on, kids are probably already makin’ a mess.”

The girls were not not making a mess, but they were trying to be helpful, so he couldn’t really be mad about it. They’d taken an alarming number of bowls and pans out of the cabinets, spreading them out on the counter along with the contents of the canvas bag Ellie’d brought in with her. 

“Wow!” Wade exclaimed, putting a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. 

“We got everything ready for you,” Gabby explained, spreading her arms out wide. “‘Cept the stove. ‘M not allowed to touch the stove.” 

“You certainly did. What a big help. Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Wade rolled up his sleeves and got to work sorting through the mess in front of him, keeping the things he needed and handing the rest off to the girls to put back. 

Once that was done he turned his attention to the cooking. 

“What kind of pancakes does everybody want? I know you want banana,” he said, pointing to Ellie with his spatula. 

“I don’t like bananas anymore. I want apple cinnamon.”  

Wade did a double take. 

“Since when?”

“Since yesterday. Gabby gave me half her apple cinnamon muffin and it’s soooooo much better than bananas. Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Wade looked like he wanted to slam his head against the counter. 

“I’ve been trying to get you off bananas for the past two months, what do you mean why didn’t I tell you?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have any apples. Or cinnamon. Why didn't you mention this in the car so we could stop on the way here?”

“You didn’t ask.” 

Wade’s eye twitched as he looked pointedly at the bunch of bananas sitting on the counter between them. 

Logan clicked his tongue and tossed Wade an apple when he looked over, nodding to the full bowl of them on the counter. 

“Can you do apple cinnamon?”

Wade cut him a scathing look as if offended by the mere notion that there was something he couldn’t do. 

“Babe, I can do anything with the right ingredients and enough time; how dare you question the world-renown Chef Deadpool.” 

“Apologies, chef,” Logan replied sarcastically. “Cinnamon’s in the cabinet by the stove.”

Wade was, unsurprisingly, chatty while he cooked, mulling over last minute strategies and verifying floor plans while somehow managing to cook every pancake to golden perfection and not burn the bacon. 

Logan stayed out of his way after his initial attempt to help was met with the swat of a spatula, instead putting his efforts into cutting up fruit and being Wade’s sounding board. 

The girls had abandoned them pretty quickly to go play so he didn’t feel bad talking shop until it was time to call them back to eat. 

“This looks amazing,” Laura said, taking her seat and immediately reaching for a plate. Which was more of a compliment than she’d ever given anything he cooked for her, despite never leaving the table without seconds. He guessed he could take pride in the fact that he’d raised her with manners towards others at the very least. 

He helped Gabby get settled and by the time he was done getting his own food she’d half drown her entire plate in syrup. 

“Give it a rest kiddo, you’re not even gonna be able to taste the pancakes you begged for.”

“Yu-huh. They just taste better like this.”

Disintegrated? 

“How would you know? You didn’t even try them first. You’re gonna crash in the middle of your girl's day if you eat all that.” 

It was a battle every time, one he usually ended up losing. It was difficult to convince a kid with a healing factor who can’t feel stomach aches that something might be bad for her, even if only in the short term. Her factor might be accelerated, but she was still young, it took a few hours for things like sugar and caffeine to get out of her system and her brain chemistry was still susceptible to a short crash when it finally cleared the stuff. 

“No I won’t,” she argued, syrup dripping down her chin as she took a giant bite of her food. 

Something nudged his foot under the table and he looked around to see Wade subtly tap two fingers against his phone. 

Logan pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the message he’d just received. 

Wade: it’s sugarfree. I’ve got a bottle of the real stuff I just wash out and put the fake stuff in. Saves a fight and El can’t tell the difference. Just thinks it’s fancy Canadian maple. 

Logan was a little awestruck at the simple brilliance of it. He glanced over at his daughter, happily munching away at her soggy pancakes, none the wiser. 

Logan: think you just changed my life. 

He watched a blush bloom across Wade’s cheeks as he read the response then quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket, turning his attention back to the story Ellie was telling. 

“Well? What’s the verdict?” Wade asked him once they’d all finished. 

A tiny, spiteful part of him wanted to lie just to deprive him of the ego boost, but he couldn’t. They were really fucking delicious. He’d never had a particularly strong opinion on pancakes one way or the other but he was starting to think that maybe he’d just never had ones that were any good. He’d just assumed they were all supposed to taste one step above soggy cardboard. 

“She wasn’t lying,” he conceded. 

“Yes!” Wade hissed to himself as if Logan wasn’t standing right there. He got himself under control then reached out and patted Logan on the back. 

“Don’t feel bad, Wolvie. We can’t all be world class pancake makers. Trust that I will never come for your Spaghetti King crown. I have been known to burn pasta a time or twelve.”

“How— Never mind, I don’t think I wanna know.” That seemed impossible, but if there was anyone that could do it, it’d be Wade. 

“You’ll have to come to dinner sometime and try it,” Laura suggested. 

Logan waited for Wade to turn around before glaring at Laura, eyebrows pinched, mouthing “what the fuck?” but she just shrugged like she didn't know what he was talking about and handed him a stack of dirty dishes. 

What the fuck is going on with her? 

He would finally find a way to actually kill himself if she’d developed some kind of insane teenage crush on the idiot. 

The girls finished cleaning up while Logan double checked his duffle. 

“Do you have snacks?” He asked Laura as she laced her boots up. 

“We literally just ate.”

“Yeah, and three hours from now when she starts sassing you because she’s hungry and you’re stuck in a chair getting your toes painted you’ll both thank me.” And the other way around. Laura was no peach when she was hungry either. 

“I got it!” Gabby said from behind him. He turned to see her climbing down from the counter with her hands full of something. 

“What did you just grab?”

“Nothing…” Gabby took off running down the hall, the cabinet that held Hank’s “secret” stash of candy bars still wide open. 

“Don’t you dare put something that’s gonna melt in my purse!” Laura shouted, jumping out of her chair to go chase her sister down. 

He shook his head at their antics, going over to close the cabinet before they came back in and someone bumped their head on it. 

“You too, mielita,” he told Ellie, catching her before she could get too engrossed in whatever game they’d been playing on Gabby’s tablet. “Go pick something from the pantry before you get distracted.”

When he looked away he saw Wade giving him a funny look. 

Shit. 

“Sorry, wasn’t tryna overstep—”

“Nonono, it's cool. I appreciate it,” he interrupted. “She’s definitely gonna be hungry again in an hour. Kid’s got the metabolism of a hummingbird.”

Logan was confused as to what the look was for then, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. They really needed to get going. 

He grabbed his bag and nodded towards the hall. 

“We should head out. Probably gonna hit traffic as it is.”

The girls met them at the door, a whirlwind of excitement. 

“You be good for miss Laura,” Wade instructed, hugging Ellie tight for the sixth time. 

“Oh my god do not tell her to call me that. She already thinks I’m old,” Laura griped. 

“Fine, be good for your peer and fellow youth, Laura,” Wade corrected sarcastically. He turned to Laura. “Better?”

She snorted. 

“See that? That’s old,” she asked Ellie, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at Wade. She pulled on her jacket and gave Logan a rare unprompted hug. 

“By daddy, have fun.” 

“You too, punkin. Don’t let ‘em bully you too much.” Any other babysitter he might’ve worried about that, but Laura knew all of her sister’s tricks and she was almost as good at detecting bullshit as he was, so even Ellie’s little manipulations were unlikely to work on her. 

She turned to Wade, pointing, face all serious suddenly. 

“Don't get my dad blown up; I want to use the truck tomorrow.”

Wade seemed bewildered at what one had to do with the other, but he held up his fingers in a mock boy scout salute to her anyway. 

“I’ll do my best.”

Wade

Once he’d decided to give it a chance, he’d been determined to have a good time on Saturday. Did that mean he expected it to be anything but an awkwardfest extraordinaire? No, no he did not. 

And yet…

Somehow, it wasn’t. 

Aside from the little snafu with Magik, the morning had been, in a word? Perfect. 

Dreamy. 

Ideal. 

Unreal. 

He’d prepared for so many different (terrible) scenarios that a normal — dare he say pleasant? — breakfast hadn’t even been one of them. He just didn’t think it was a possibility. 

Then, on top of that, the FOUR HOURS of forced confinement in Logan’s truck was not akin to torture? At least not for him. He couldn’t speak for Logan, but there’d been no claws, only like ten “shut the fuck up”s and he’d even laughed once! 

(Wade was counting that in his top ten lifetime achievements). 

The mission itself was by and large a success. They got the package in one piece, no one got blown up, and there was only one minor scuffle with some hired goons that was over before it could really begin. Wade wasn’t allowed to use deadly force per the X-rules, but modern medicine was a marvel, nobody died of a little gunshot wound to the leg anymore, and you don’t need all five fingers to function, it’s honestly overkill if you ask him; a flawed design. And it’s an ice breaker! You’re welcome. 

Logan stood back while Wade did all the dirty work, playing on the computer (he called it hacking, but Wade knew he was just pretending to be a nerd so he didn’t have to mess up his perfectly styled hair). Which was fine by Wade because there were only six of them (shrinkflation hitting the henchmen market hard apparently), not exactly fair odds against even just one of them let alone both and fairness was very important to the Deadpool rebrand. 

(Probably. He was still workshopping it and this was totally never happening again, but if it did — which it wouldn’t — he had to make sure he was doing his little girl proud, within reason).

They found a nearby truck stop to change out of their gear and grab a bite to eat for the road. 

Wade checked his phone for the umpteenth time before getting back in the truck. 

“She’s in good hands. Laura’s probably both the safest and deadliest babysitter you’ll ever find,” Logan tried to reassure him as they pulled onto the highway. 

Wade huffed a laugh. 

No offense to the kid, but his baby girl had a whole gaggle of deadly assassins wrapped around her little finger. She wasn’t exactly wanting in the lethal babysitter department. He was sure Laura was good, but she was still just a teenager. 

“Her godfather’s Taskmaster.”

If Logan was surprised his face didn’t show it. 

“My money's still on Laura.”

Wade raised an eyebrow. That was a helluva bet and something told Wade it wasn’t just parental pride. 

“There a reason?” 

“Yeah.”

“You gonna tell me what it is?” He asked. Logan was the one who brought it up in the first place. 

“Maybe one day.”

He left it at that and Wade, through a godly force of will, didn’t continue to pry. 

“What do you think it is?” he asked, about halfway through the trip. He’d been mulling it over since they got on the road and he had a burning desire to know. 

“Data stick,” Logan answered unhelpfully. 

“No shit, Sherlock. But what do you think is on it?”

“Not my job to know what’s on it.” 

Wade deserved the Mr. Olympia title for all the conversational heavy lifting he was doing on this car ride. 

He banged his head against the headrest and tried again. 

“Yeah but like, you can speculate. C’mon, take a guess.”

Logan checked his mirrors to merge, pausing just long enough to give Wade hope he might play along, then opened his mouth and shattered that hope completely. 

“I dunno, probably something financial. I don’t care.”

“God you’re so boring. Use your imagination! I think it’s blueprints. To a secret underground lair. Oooo no, a pocket dimension lair, like Lex Luthor in the new Superman — I can talk about DC IP, I just had a Batman crossover, I’ve earned it.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Nothing, that wasn’t for you. So, what do you think? Secret lair? List of stolen magic artifacts? Epstein list? Wait, is that black SUV following us?” Wade whipped around only to be smacked in the back of the head by Logan’s outstretched arm. 

“You wanna jump out the window yourself or you want me to throw you out?”

“You know I’d never say no to a chance to get your hands on me, peanut.”

Logan rolled the passenger side window down. 

Wade held up his hands in defeat. 

“Ugh fine! I’ll stop guessing.” Wade slumped down in his seat and crossed his arms, throwing his feet up on the dash just to be a dick. “You must be a riot at parties,” he muttered under his breath, knowing full well that Logan would hear it. 

“I don’t go to parties.”

“Really? I couldn’t’ve guessed.”

Logan reached across the cab and shoved him, hard enough to make him bump against the door and drop his feet down but not hard enough for Wade to take it seriously. 

He knew the difference between a playful Wolverine shove and one with intent. 

(Was that weird? That felt like it might be weird). 

They fell into a comfortable silence for a while after that, winding down from the adrenaline rush.

They pulled up to the mansion a little past ten. 

Logan unbuckled and reached for his door handle, but Wade put a hand on his arm to stop him going just yet. 

“Hey, I forgot to say it, but thanks for that.” 

“You were the one doin’ me a favor, bub.”

“Didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it. Does that make me a shitty parent? Feels like it makes me a shitty parent, that I miss doing the thing that almost got her killed.”

“Bad people doing bad shit almost got her killed. There’s still a lotta those out there; more without you in the field. It’s not your responsibility to take ‘em all out or try t’make the world a better place, but it sure as hell doesn't make you a shitty parent to want to.” 

Wade swallowed, not knowing how to respond for once in his life. 

Logan clapped him on the shoulder. 

“C’mon. It’s late; need to get the girls to bed.” 

Wade nodded, rubbed his hands over his thighs a couple times, then unbuckled and grabbed his stuff. 

Logan was right. Probably about more than he was ready to accept just yet. 

Chapter Text

A week later

Logan

The clock over the mantle read half past one in the morning. Logan took another drag on his cigar and tried to find his place on the page again. He couldn’t concentrate; his mind kept drifting, too tired to focus but too anxious to sleep. 

Seven hours and thirty six minutes since Gabby had left for her first sleepover. A week straight of begging and chores and good behavior and he’d finally caved. 

Objectively, it was no different than him leaving on an overnight mission; actually it was better because she was close and there was no restriction for communication – she’d called him after dinner and right before bed – but his brain didn’t see it that way. 

She was away from home without him or Laura for the first time ever and his parental instincts weren’t handling it well. 

He took another sip of his whiskey and tried to let the fading burn sooth his anxieties. 

She was close. She was safe. She could take care of herself – and if for some reason she couldn’t, Wade could. Would. Whatever else he felt about Wade aside, he knew could at least trust that. 

She was fine. 

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d start to believe it. 

He’d already resigned himself to not getting any sleep tonight. Wasn’t the first all-nighter he’d pulled, wouldn’t be the last. He’d given it a genuine attempt at first, but an hour of tossing and turning, double checking to make sure his ringer was still on, that he hadn’t lost signal for some reason, that his battery hadn’t suddenly died, was enough to tell him his brain wasn't gonna shut off long enough to fall asleep so he might as well get up. 

Two glasses of whiskey and half a cigar later he was finally starting to relax a little, maybe even enough to rest his eyes. 

And then his phone rang. 

He picked it up before the first ring had even finished.

“What happened?”

“She’s fine,” Wade told him. His voice sounded calm, despite the late hour phone call. “She had a nightmare and wants to come home; no big deal. Wasn’t gonna call and wake you, but I’m not too keen on triggering whatever over the top security system Charlie Boy no doubt has in place by pulling up in the middle of the night uninvited, so figured I’d give you a heads up.”

Logan started breathing again. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m on my way.” He’d started putting his shoes on the moment he picked up the phone and was already halfway to the door, healing factor and adrenaline burning the meager remnants of alcohol from his veins. 

“I can bring her—”

“No sense messin’ up Ellie’s sleep too. I’ll be there in a few.”

Logan almost missed them, as laser focused as he was to get to her, but Gabby’s scent, laced faintly with acrid fear, caught his attention before he could reach the door and drew his eyes to the corner of the porch where a swing was strung up. 

He stepped carefully, walking quiet so as not to wake them. 

Wade had one arm hanging off the swing, like he’d been using it to rock them back and forth and fallen asleep in the process, and the other tucked around Gabby making sure she didn’t slip where she’d passed out curled up on his chest. 

That was… shocking. 

She could be tricky to calm after a nightmare. Laura used to fake going back to sleep, screwing her eyes shut and pretending everything was fine, even as silent tears streamed down her cheeks, until exhaustion finally took her. 

Gabby on the other hand, often refused to close her eyes again at all, seemingly terrified of whatever she might encounter in the darkness. 

She’d gotten better over the years, but her dreams (and memories) were less specific than Laura’s, adding a layer of difficulty when trying to reassure her. 

Logan walked up silently and bent to scoop his sleeping daughter up. He was met with resistance where Wade’s arm tightened as soon as she started to lift, while he simultaneously felt something sharp and cold press against his pelvic bone. 

“Where the fuck were you hiding a knife?” He asked a barely conscious Wade. The man in question blinked a couple times, then seemed to realize where he was and what he was doing. 

“Shit, sorry.” The pressure disappeared and he let go of Gabby so Logan could continue picking her up. She wrapped herself around him and nuzzled her face against his chest, immediately falling back asleep. He cradled her little body in his arms. The nights were starting to get warmer, but there was a slight breeze in the air and he angled his body to protect her from it.  

“S’all good,” he told a still half asleep Wade. He didn’t need an apology; it was his own fault for continuing to get so caught up in the softness of this new Wade that he kept forgetting this side of him existed too, that he was a skilled killer, one of the best. 

“What’re you two doing out here?” He asked, grabbing her backpack off the ground and slinging it over his shoulder carefully so as not to disturb her. He was curious how he’d gotten her to settle so fast. 

Wade sat up, rubbing his eyes. 

“She was feeling claustrophobic. Thought the sky might help,” he explained, speaking softly in an attempt not to wake her. He nodded his head toward the clear night sky, half-full moon shining low on the horizon.

Huh. 

It was an insightful solution, the kind that came from experience rather than a quick google search. Wade was no stranger to nightmares, Logan knew that, it was just weird to see his self-soothing techniques applied to his own kid. 

He wondered idly if that’s what plagued Wade’s unconscious mind. There’d been times back when they were running missions together – more than he could count – where he’d woken up panicked in a cold sweat from his own nightmares to find Wade’s bed empty and the man in question camped out on the balcony or outside the tent or in the bed of a truck. 

Sometimes he’d still be awake, they’d share a cigarette and a beer and resolutely not talk about the thick stench of fear in the air, the jittery hands, the stuttered breaths. Most of the time he’d fallen back asleep though and Logan had left him to it, continued checking on his teammates, making sure the blood on his hands when he looked down was truly all in his head. It wasn’t always.  

He checked to make sure Gabby’d truly fallen back asleep before asking the next question. 

“She hurt anyone?”

Wade shook his head and covered his mouth with his fist as he yawned. 

“No — well, Mr. Fuzzlesworth is down half an ear, but honestly he could use the humbling. So full of himself. Where do bunnies get off having that much ear to begin with? It’s excessive is what it is. Dare I say lavish.”

“Please tell me you’re talking about a stuffed animal.”

Wade’s grin was lopsided and soft, making something in his chest loosen. 

“Yeah, he’s a stuffed animal. Told you, nothing bad happened, just a nightmare.”

Logan didn’t respond how he wanted to, which was to say that bad things tended to happen when Howlett’s had nightmares. That wasn’t news to Wade.  

He didn’t know what to say, so he did what he usually did and said nothing at all. Wade could always be counted on to fill the silences. 

“You really didn’t have to drive all the way out here. I’d’ve brought her home,” he said, proving Logan right. He stood up from the swing and stretched, rolling his shoulders.

Logan looked away.  

“I was up anyway; couldn’t sleep.”

Wade’s smile faltered and it was his turn to look away, busying himself half-ass folding the Hello Kitty blanket that’d been draped over Gabby, absently picking at threads here and there while he replied. 

“Thanks for letting her try, despite your feelings about me; Ellie appreciates it,” he huffed out a little laugh, though his tone was anything but happy. 

In his sleep deprived state it took Logan far longer than he cared to admit to realize Wade meant his negative feelings about him and not that he’d somehow figured out the cause of his little crisis last month.  

Wade carried on.             

“Y’know, I’m honestly surprised you didn’t just set up camp at the end of the driveway.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Logan said, brow pinched as he looked down, because he hadn’t. Actually, he’d thought they’d sorta turned a corner since the whole Saturday morning breakfast and mission thing. He figured agreeing to the sleepover in the first place was enough of an indicator that things were fine. Whatever happened to actions speaking louder than words? That was a thing, wasn’t it? 

“No, I get it. Look, I should get back inside.” Wade pointed his thumb over his shoulder and started to turn. 

Shit. 

He was fucking it up again, wasn’t he?

“This was the first time she’s ever been away overnight without me,” he started to explain, halting Wade in his tracks. “It’s different than me being gone for work – I dunno why, just is. That’s what I meant when I said I couldn’t sleep; had nothin’ to do with you. If I didn’t trust you with her she wouldn’t be here, no matter how many hunger strikes I gotta endure.”

Wade was giving him a look he couldn’t figure out – scrutinizing, but also something else. After a painfully awkward silence, he finally responded.  

“It gets easier the more you do it, but the anxiety never really goes away. At least it hasn’t for me yet and El’s been to summer camp twice.”

“Maybe by the time they’re in their twenties,” Logan joked, glad to see the smile come back to Wade’s face (and to’ve been the one to put it there). 

“One can only hope.”

Gabby stirred and adjusted his hold on her, freeing a hand to comb through her wildly messy hair. 

“It’s late; you guys should go get some sleep,” Wade said softly, his words this time feeling less like a dismissal and more like a goodbye. 

“You too. Thanks for taking care of her.”

Surprise flashed over his face for a split second before he reeled it back in, but Logan had noticed. It didn’t make him feel great that he kept surprising Wade with the bare minimum. Sure he wasn’t the most social person and definitely not the nicest, but he hadn’t been that bad, had he? 

Maybe he’d changed more in the past decade than he’d realized. For the better. 

“‘Course. She’s welcome to try again any time.”

“I’ll make sure she knows,” he said, truthfully. Despite his own anxieties, he knew this was an important milestone for her and that he couldn’t keep her locked up at the mansion forever. If she was gonna be away from him, he’d rather it be here, with Wade. 

And wasn’t that a fucking revelation. 

Laura was in the middle of making a sandwich when he walked into the kitchen on his lunch break, which was fortunate because he’d just been given an assignment that could use another hand. 

“You up for some work next weekend?” He asked, expecting the same eager “duh” he always got. Instead, he was met with a shrug. 

“Uh, nah, I’m good. Think I’ll sit this one out.” 

Declining two missions in a row? That wasn’t like her. He started mentally running through a checklist of things that could be wrong. She couldn’t be hiding an injury or sickness from him, maybe it was an emotional thing? Fuck, he sucked at those. 

“What’s gotten into you? You’re always begging to go on missions.” He figured he’d have better luck just asking outright than wasting his time playing a guessing game. Laura was usually straightforward with him. 

She sat her knife down, crossing her arms. 

“Yeah, solo missions. Or like, big team things. I was better than the rest of the new recruits by the time I was Gabby’s age. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Okay, that was a little more straightforward than he’d’ve liked. Ouch. 

“I wasn’t suggesting you did.”

“Really? Cuz I don’t see anyone else going on missions with their dad.”

He should’ve seen this coming. She was technically an adult now, and she was right, she’d been raised to be a fighter - a killer - from birth. He’d tried to give her a childhood, what was left of it by the time he’d found her, but that sort of training never really goes away. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t more to learn; there was always more to learn, like how to work as part of a team, how to rely on skills other than her claws. 

He must’ve not been hiding the hurt on his face as well as he thought, because when she looked back up at him her shoulders immediately sagged. 

“I love you, but no one’s gonna trust that I know what I’m doing if you’re there doing it better,” she explained, shrinking in on herself a little. He hated that. “Why would they ask me when they have you?”

Sometimes when he looked at her all he could see was his little girl, small and fragile and fierce like no other, who could kill a battalion of men in under a minute but still needed protecting from all of the other terrible things the world had to offer that had nothing to do with guns and swords and killing each other. Maybe he had been treating her like she was still that little girl on some subconscious level. Maybe he always would. 

He risked the grievous bodily harm and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. She hugged back. 

“Didn’t think about it like that. Just like havin’ you there with me,” he told her honestly and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m proud of you; wanna help you hone your skills.”

She pulled out of his arms – thirty seconds had been pushing it – and went back to picking at her sandwich. 

“I know, just like, can we take a break from daddy-daughter crime fighting for a little while? Not forever,” she added before his heart could finish breaking completely, “just long enough for me to prove to everyone else I can do it without you?”

He sighed. It hurt, but this wasn’t about him. If this was what she needed, then of course he would step aside. 

“Yeah, we can do that.”

She smiled and the tension drained from her shoulders, obviously relieved the conversation had gone the way it had. He wondered how long she’d felt that way and had been working up the nerve to say something about it. He hoped not long. 

He got to work making himself a sandwich with the ingredients she already had out. He was on a time crunch, unfortunately. 

“You’ve still got Wade if you need someone durable,” Laura pointed out, reminding him that he did actually need another set of hands. Didn’t necessarily have to be his though. 

“You tryna make me feel worse?” He asked, the jab more out of habit than anything else. Laura rolled her eyes at him. 

“Shut up, you know you guys have fun together. You’re like, old golf buddies who bicker and sabotage each other but still come back every week.”

“I think you can stop talking now.”

“Oh my god it’s so true,” she continued, completely ignoring him. “Or like those muppets that bitch about everything — actually I dunno that Wade’s grumpy enough for that. Maybe Bert and Ernie?” 

“Why are you so into Wade all of a sudden?” He snapped, immediately regretting it. He didn’t mean to actually ask that out loud.

She wrinkled her nose. 

“Eww, don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I have a crush on him or something.” She looked so incredibly offended that he almost wanted to laugh. “That’s disgusting. He’s like, fifty.”

He wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to bother correcting her. 

“So you don’t?” He asked, just to be clear, because he was absolutely never, ever bringing this up again. 

Laura made a retching noise that he was only 80% sure was fake. 

“Why the fuck would you think that?”

He shrugged, grabbing a soda from the fridge so that he could avoid her scrutinizing stare for a few seconds. 

Is that how it looks when I do it? If so, no wonder people were so jittery around him when they had something to hide. He felt like she was trying to peer into his fucking soul. 

“You’ve been bringing him up a lot, and you invited him to dinner the other day for no fucking reason,” he reminded her. 

“I was being polite!”

Logan snorted. 

“Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

She threw her unopened bag of chips at him, which he caught and kept as payment for her behavior. 

“You’re the literal worst. And you’re terrible at being nice. I was trying to help you.”

“Please don’t.” He didn’t need her meddling in his business when it came to Wade. Things were already complicated enough on that front. 

She threw her hands up.  

“Whatever. I’m sorry for trying to make up for your socially inept ass. I'll let you do all the talking next time. Oh wait,” she deadpanned, taking a dig at his generally sparse conversation skills. 

“You know what? I’m actually not going to miss you. In fact, I’m gonna go see if Slim has somewhere you can go right now,” he said, gathering up his plate and drink to go eat in his classroom where he could get some peace and quiet. He didn’t need to take this kind of abuse. 

She spit her tongue out at him as he walked away, laughing at his retreat. 

Wade: note to self: unpack bags immediately. El found my mask and nows running around the house “playing Deadpool.” The coat rack never stood a chance

Wade: dear FBI agent. for legal purposes that was a joke. I, a responsible adult, would never let my child play with a sword. 

Wade’s texts came through a little after dinner time. Logan was in the common room trying to read while Gabby and Laura faced off in some video game that was probably more violent than a typical eight year old should be playing, but seeing as Gabby wasn’t typical, he let it slide. She’d seen worse. 

Logan: Enjoy it while it lasts. 

Logan was still a little sullen about his talk with Laura earlier, enough that he didn’t even bother to comment on how it’d been over a week since their mission and Wade had yet to wash or even unpack his suit. Disgusting. 

Wade: ominous  

Logan: Sorry. Bad timing. 

Wade: Y? smth happen?

He debated not replying – it wasn’t any of Wade’s business and however he replied was probably just going to make Logan feel worse – but Laura’s jab about his communication skills was still rattling around his brain and it wasn’t like there were a ton of people who’d understand. He had plenty of mutant friends and he knew a bunch of parents, but the intersection was almost non-existent. 

Logan: Laura told me today she doesn’t want to go on jobs together anymore, that she doesn't need a babysitter. Apparently I’ve been inadvertently undermining her this whole time. 

Wade: ouch

Wade: mentoring’s not the same as babysitting 

Logan hadn’t thought so either, but maybe if he was in her shoes he’d feel differently. 

Logan: Apparently it is. She wants to step out on her own and earn her own reputation, and I get that. I know she’s ready. 

Wade: but ur still gonna miss it 

Logan: Yeah.

He really, really was. But she’d said it wasn’t forever, just until she felt like she’d forged her own identity, he couldn’t begrudge her that. If there was anything they had in abundance, it was time.

Wade: Give it a coupla years you’ll have gabby running around after you

He looked over at his girls, so enthralled with their video game, knocking shoulders trying to get the other to mess up. They were both so young, but where he’d been too late to give Laura a normal early childhood, he hadn’t been with Gabby. She’d seen some shit – there was no getting around that with him being who he was – but she still, for the most part, had her innocence. He didn’t want either of them growing up to follow in his footsteps. He was proud of Laura for the choices she was making, but he’d be just as proud if she’d chosen to be a doctor or a painter instead. He wanted more for them than the violence they were born into.  

Logan: I’m still holding out hope she'll stay out of the family business and go to college or travel or something. 

Wade: hate 2 burst ur bubble but I’d put money on her nailing her first bad guy b4 she’s legally old enough 2 vote.

Yeah, Logan didn’t have a lotta faith in her staying out of it either. All he could do was hope. And try to keep her out of trouble. 

Logan: Guess it’s better than her winding up in jail. Can’t say I’d take those odds either. 

Wade: yeah but u KNOW it’d be for sumthing funny like freeing all the wolves from the zoo 

Dear God Logan did not need this man giving her any ideas. That did sound exactly like something his kid would do. 

Logan: Remind me never to let you take her to a zoo. 

Wade: don’t worry I’ve been banned from most of the ones on the east coast. We ever go to San Diego tho, all bets are off. 

Logan had so many questions and wanted an answer to precisely none of them. 

He moved on, thinking about the other thing Laura had said earlier. He started typing a dozen times, erasing and starting over and second-guessing bringing it up at all, but finally hit send. 

He could always say no.  

Logan: Now that I’m officially down a partner, you got any interest in jobs in the future or was that a one off? No pressure. 

Wade: is this u asking officially or unofficially 

Logan: Unofficial. Sorry, that's not my call.

He felt kinda shitty about that. Wade had been trying to get in with the X-Men for decades, the closest he ever got being X-Force. It’d never been Logan’s call, but his feelings on the matter hadn’t exactly been a secret. There were a few times they’d needed his help in the couple of years before he went off the grid though where Logan’s mind had started to change. But he was still too unpredictable to count on with any sort of consistency. 

Logan thought that maybe wasn’t the case anymore. 

Wade: I prefer that. I’m allergic to contracts. 

He was surprised at that answer. 

He looked up at the sound of laughter, finding that they’d paused the game and were now tossing popcorn at each other attempting to see who was better at catching it (the answer was neither – he was going to have to vacuum so much later). 

Priorities change, he thought. Maybe Wade’s have too. 

Logan: That a yes?

Wade: it’s permission to hmu when u need a hand and I’ll let u kno 

Logan: You free next Saturday? 

Might as well ask before he could talk himself out of it. 

He watched the dots appear and disappear a few times before Wade’s response finally came through. 

Wade: guess this means i gotta do laundry, huh?

Wade: shit gotta go. Think the screen door just ate it. Nighty night

Chapter Text

Wade

Over the next few weeks he joined Logan on two more missions – both times managing not to embarrass himself or piss Logan off enough to cause a rift – and Gabby succeeded at her second first sleep over attempt with no claws or nightmares at all.  

Things were going well. Which is why, of course, he should’ve been expecting something to go wrong. 

He and Logan were a couple states away on an overnight mission. Wade had hemmed and hawed about it for a long time before agreeing. A few hours was one thing, but overnight? It was a slippery slope. He’d told Ellie the Deadpool-ing wasn’t going to become A Thing again, but the missions were ramping up in frequency and now duration? Felt like it might be becoming A Thing. 

And the worst part was, he was enjoying it. 

A lot. 

Not just the part where he got to spend quality time with the man he had a ginormous crush on while showing off at what he did best, but also just the missions themselves. He felt good, like he was stretching rarely used muscles, and when he came home he could actually tell Ellie about them (minus any gory details). And the look in her eyes… he’d seen it before, for silly things like when he got her stuffed chicken off the roof safely after she thought he needed a higher perch or when he made her a whole new Halloween costume overnight because the second half of her duo costume got the stomach flu and canceled last minute. That was normal good parent stuff though, this was good person stuff. 

So yeah, he had her permission to keep accepting Logan’s invitations (though he suspected part of that had to do with the fact that she got to hang out at the mansion while he was gone) and Logan kept asking so… what was he supposed to do? Say no? Wade was strong, but he wasn’t that strong. 

This particular mission was over and done with quickly once the fighting had actually started. It was the surveillance that’d taken up most of their day and half the night. But it’d gone well, just like their previous missions had. It was almost annoying how easy it was to get back into the swing of things with Logan by his side. For all their faults, the bickering, the stabbing, the backstabbing, they worked well together. They fought well together. 

He’d expected some fumbling or awkwardness or butting heads — neither was great at taking direction from someone else and communication wasn’t exactly their strong suit, despite how much Wade liked to talk — but as soon as the masks went on they were Deadpool and Wolverine. There was no second guessing or insecurity, no feelings at all, just the confidence of knowing — knowing how your partner moves, how he thinks, how he acts; knowing what he’s going to do and where you need to be when he does it before he’s even gotten into position. Knowing someone has your back no matter what whacky tricks you pull to thwart the bad guys. Knowing there’s no need to worry about them, that they’ll be okay no matter what, knowing you can both focus on the task at hand and not babysitting one another. 

It was like the danger room, only better, because it was real. Real stakes, real opponents, real rewards. 

The rewards so far had been a whole lotta classified data chips and sealed envelopes he wasn’t allowed to open, but that was okay, it was about the journey, not the destination. And the journey was fucking fun.

Wade tossed his mask and gloves in his duffle and started working on his boots while Logan took the first shower, because Wade was a gentleman like that.

He was double checking his magazine count when he heard a rhythmic vibration coming from somewhere behind him. 

He felt his pockets for his phone and, finding it silent, realized it must be Logan’s. He looked over at the little bedside table and his heart immediately sank into his stomach. 

Gabby’s face was staring back at him — one of the photos he’d taken of her at the art museum he noted, a little swell of something mixing with the panic, making him a little nauseous. 

It was past midnight; there was no good reason for her to be calling. 

He hesitated for a split second, then picked up the phone, consequences be damned. If Logan got pissed at him for touching his stuff he could fucking deal. Something bad could’ve happened. 

“Hey sweetpea, it’s Wade. Everything okay?”

His heart stopped beating when he heard her sniffle. 

“Hi Papi,” his daughter’s voice came through followed by some rustling and the ambient sound change that let him know he was on speaker. “There was an accident but everything’s fine now.”

“What kind of accident?” He asked, keeping his cadence steady even though panic was rising in his chest. 

“I d-d-didn’t me-mean to,” Gabby stuttered wetly. 

Wade started pacing. He took a deep breath, scrubbing a hand over his head. 

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“We f-f-fell asleep and I had a b-bad dream and I didn’t mean to! I c-can’t help it,” she cut off with a sob. 

“El,” he thought he might have an easier time getting a straight answer out of her, though he could already guess what’d happened. 

“I’m okay! It was just a little nick, not like a real stab or anything.”

Wade sat down heavy on the bed before his legs could give out. 

She’s okay. She heals. She’s okay. 

We knew this was a risk. 

“Where?”

“My arm. It only bled a little bit.”

He heard Gabby sob through the speaker again. 

He rubbed hard at the middle of his forehead. 

Fuck. Okay. Get it together. Panicking will only make it worse. 

This is what Logan was worried about last time. 

She’s okay. 

“Gabby,” he started to say, but she cut him off before he could even get it all the way out. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Wade, I didn’t mean to, I p-promise. Please don’t say Ellie can’t stay over anymore. I’ll be b-better, it wo-won’t happen again. Please let her still be my friend. I’ll be better,” she pleaded, her voice wobbly and wet, a terrified edge to it. 

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he instructed, making his voice as soft and gentle as he could. Kid was gonna hyperventilate at this rate. His heart broke a little bit for her. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying it was to have a mutation that could cause so much damage at such a young age. Especially when she couldn’t fully control it. “It’s okay. Ellie’s okay, right Bean?”

“Yeah m’fine.” His daughter sounded wildly unconcerned for having just been stabbed. 

Wonder where she gets that from… 

“Then everything’s fine. Look, your dad’s stabbed me loads of times and we’re still friends. It happens. No biggie,” he reassured her. 

“Toldja he wouldn’t be mad. You didn’t mean to. Let’s go back to sleep,” he heard Ellie telling her. 

He couldn’t say he was surprised that she was taking it on the chin, but getting stabbed, even by your friend (especially by your friend?), was traumatic. And painful. He’d’ve understood if she’d been scared or if it’d been her who called, begging him to come get her, but she was seemingly more concerned with the interruption to her sleep cycle than the actual wounding. 

There were plenty of kids at the school with dangerous powers they couldn’t control, Gabby wasn’t unique in that. They’d discussed the chances of something like this happening before she’d even started there, and then after, more specifically, once he knew who her new bff was. 

Despite all the evidence to the contrary, he wasn’t an idiot. And he wasn’t reckless when it came to his kid (just himself). So of course he’d thought about it, and they’d talked about it. Weighed the odds, the risk versus reward. And she’d chosen friendship over fear. He respected that.

Logan

“B-but daddy’s gonna yell at me.”

Logan paused, halfway through toweling off his hair, at the sound of his daughter’s trembling voice. 

“I’m sure he’s not gonna yell at you for a little accident,” he heard Wade tell her. 

What accident?

“I was bad.” She sounded upset, and scared. Of him? His chest felt tight. 

He’d only given her one rule to follow — aside from the everyday “behave and listen to your sister” — and he could guess what’d happened. There was only one reason she’d think that. 

He heard Wade reassuring her as he hastily pulled his clothes on. 

“Hey, no, listen to me. You aren’t bad, honeybadger. It was an accident; you didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, you did the right thing calling even though you're worried about getting in trouble. I promise no one is mad at you. Ellie, are you mad?”

He yanked the door open to find Wade sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees, Logan’s phone in his hand. 

He looked up at the sound of the door opening and immediately put a finger to his lips. 

Logan mouthed “what happened?” despite being sure he already knew the answer. His heart was pounding behind his ribcage. 

“Nope. Doesn’t even hurt. And she didn’t even get my shirt.”

“See? Ellie’s not mad, I’m not mad. I know you would never hurt her on purpose.”

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots, grounding himself with the pain. He knew it was a bad idea to let her have sleepovers. She wasn’t ready. It was too dangerous.  

“Daddy will be mad.”

“I don't think he will. Here, why don’t we ask him?” Wade said, staring at him pointedly, before explaining. 

“The girls fell asleep and Gabby had a bad dream and accidentally stabbed Ellie in the arm. Emphasis on the accident. And on inherited healing factors. You’re not mad, are you?”

He handed Logan the phone, wide eyes boring into him with the unspoken command. 

He took a second to breathe. Letting Wade’s calm demeanor set the tone. If Ellie was seriously injured or distressed Wade would be freaking out. He’d spent enough time around him to know that. Logan wasn’t mad, at her. He was mad at himself for letting her be in a position for something like this to happen. 

“I’m not mad, honey. Are you okay?” He asked the most important thing first and foremost. 

“Uh-huh,” she hiccuped.

“Is Ellie okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” Ellie answered. She sounded like she was telling the truth. “Wanna go back to sleep now. We should move to my bed though cuz I don’t wanna lay on the blood.”

“Maybe you two should stay on separate—“ he tried to suggest, but she cut him off. 

“That’s dumb, then she has to sleep on the blood. C’mon,” he could hear the rustling of blankets, the sound of them moving beds. 

For such a smart kid she didn’t exactly have a strong sense of self preservation. 

His eyes traveled over to her father, who was twirling a small blade around in his hand like a fidget spinner. Logan sighed. 

“Hey Ellie, can I talk to Gabby alone for a sec?” He asked, wishing he could be there in person for this kind of thing. 

“Okay,” she said, then whispered into the mic, “don’t yell at her. Or else.”

Logan raised his eyebrow at Wade, who buried his face in his hands. 

“We’re working on the threats,” he groaned. Logan would’ve laughed if his stomach wasn’t still in knots. 

Logan switched the phone off speaker and Wade excused himself to the bathroom, ostensibly to brush his teeth, but really to offer up what little privacy could be afforded in the tiny hotel room. Logan was grateful. 

“Gabs—”

“I’m sorry daddy, I didn’t mean to I swear—”

“Hey, hey, hey it’s okay honey, I’m not mad. I’m proud of you for telling me even though you were scared. I don’t want you to ever be scared to talk to me, okay?” He didn’t mean for his stern lecture to make her scared that she’d get in trouble, he’d just wanted to make sure she was taking it seriously. She needed to take this sort of thing seriously. 

“Okay.”

“And what Wade said’s right; just because a bad thing happened it doesn’t make you bad, you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Accidents happen. But people like us have to be especially careful, because accidents like that can have serious consequences.”

“I know.” 

She should. That was the third time he’d said something along those lines in half as many days, and she’d probably heard it about a thousand times over the course of her short life already, either directed at her or her sister. 

“What do you think we can do to try to make sure it doesn’t happen again?” He was torn. He didn’t want to make her feel worse than she already did about the situation, but he also didn’t want it happening again. She was so, so lucky it’d been Ellie. 

“Not stay up past bedtime watching TikTok?” She offered. 

“That’s one, yes.”

“We can sleep with lots of pillows so her claws won’t stab all the way through,” he heard Ellie chime in in the background. 

So much for a private conversation.

“That’s… an option. Ideally, you guys stay in separate beds.” 

He knew that was a pipe dream, but he had to throw it out there. Gabby was extremely clingy with people she deemed worthy of it, and predisposed to pack behavior. And unlike him and Laura, no one had gotten the chance to beat those instincts out of her. 

And no one ever would. 

But that did mean she had to learn how to suppress them herself when needed; something she wasn’t very good at yet.  

“But she heals,” Gabby argued. It was sound logic, except for one thing. 

“Still hurts though. I know it’s tough to remember punkin, but stuff like that’s really painful for people.”

He heard her sniffle and wished he could be there to hug her. 

They weren’t that far away. If they left now he could probably be there by sunrise. 

“Wasn’t that bad. Cut myself practicing with Papi’s sword one time and it hurt way worse than that. Whoops! Mr. Logan you didn’t hear that!” Ellie hurried to add. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Your friend is obviously very determined to get her way,” he started, and he could hear a little cheer from Ellie in the background. “It’s up to the two of you what you wanna do, just so long as you understand that Ellie’s the exception, not the rule. Most people aren’t gonna be able to heal from your claws.”

“I know.” 

He hoped that was true. This was one lesson he really, really didn’t want her to learn the hard way. 

“I love you,” he told her, hating that he couldn’t follow it up with a hug and kiss. 

“I love you too,” she said back and he could hear the yawn in her voice on the last word. 

“I’m sorry I’m not there right now. I’ll be home soon,” he promised. 

“It’s okay. M’gonna go back to sleep now.”

“Sweet dreams, punkin. If you need anything—”

“Go get Laura. I know, daddy,” she said, cutting him off. 

Wade conveniently stepped out of the bathroom to grab his change of clothes in time for good night’s.

“You too, Ellie,” he said, figuring she was still listening. “You wanna tell your dad goodnight?”

He handed the phone to Wade. 

It was strange to watch him talk to her. Almost like he was watching a different person entirely.  He was so… at ease. Logan had never realized how many of his smiles were fake until he saw the way a genuine one looked on his face. It was softer, lighter, made his eyes light up in a way Logan couldn’t remember seeing before. 

It looked good on him. 

“Sleep tight, Elliebean. Am I on speaker?” Logan’s enhanced hearing picked up her negative response. Wade lowered his voice, probably assuming (correctly) that Gaby might be able to hear anyway, and his tone turned more serious. “You really okay? Don’t lie.” 

Logan heard her affirmative hum and watched the remaining tension bleed from Wade’s shoulders. 

“I’m proud of you, mi niña. You’re a good friend... Love you too, bug... Ni-night.”

Wade ended the call and handed the phone back over to Logan. 

“Sorry. I swear I wasn’t going through your shit. Just saw her face pop up on your phone and panicked a little,” he rushed to say, as if Logan wouldn’t have done the same exact thing. 

Logan shook his head. 

“It’s fine. I appreciate it. It’s me who should be apologizing. I’ve told her over and over—“

“It’s okay, man,” Wade cut him off before he could finish the apology. “I wasn’t lying. I know she’d never hurt Ellie on purpose. It’s been a risk from day one. If I was worried about it — if Ellie was worried about it — she’d be at home with a babysitter.”

“Still.” He heard the words, and he wanted to believe them, but experience had been a cruel teacher far too many times for him to trust them. 

“Like you said, accidents happen. She handled it way better than most kids would’ve. Most adults too. You should be proud of her.”

“I am,” he said honestly, sitting back down heavily on the bed. He folded his hands into fists then opened them back up a few times, trying to dispel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

“First time she’s stabbed someone?” Wade asked as he dug through his bag past a trove of weapons and ammunition to get to a clean shirt. 

Logan wished he could say yes. 

“Unfortunately, no.”

“It happens.” Wade shrugged it off. He paused, clearly wanting to say more but actually thinking it through for once. “Can I ask something?”

Logan’s chest tightened, a little spark of protectiveness that always lit up when he talked about his girls, but he tamped it down and nodded for him to go on. 

“Wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but what did you mean it’s tough to remember stuff like that hurts?”

“She doesn’t feel pain.”

Wade’s brow rose and he paused in his search to stare at Logan.  

“Seriously?”

Logan nodded. 

“Yeah. Nociception was one of the “flaws” they ironed out of my genetic code when they—” he swallowed, the words sticking in his throat. He hated talking about this; hated the guilt that bubbled up inside him like acid every time he thought about how long those assholes had them, especially Laura, before he even knew they existed. 

There was nothing he could do to change it, just had to keep moving forward, making it up to her, to them both, a day at a time. 

He tried again. 

“Her body doesn’t respond to noxious stimuli. Had to train herself to react to things like touching a stove or stepping on something sharp. Sometimes she forgets that it’s not like that for most people.”

Wade leaned against the wall, taking that bit of information in. 

“That’s rough. Sounds like a dream to me right now, but having to grow up like that? No thank you. She's lucky it’s paired with a healing factor.”

Logan laughed bitterly. 

“S’not luck. They designed her like that. The perfect weapon that can take a hit and not react, not slow down or get distracted. Just heal right back up and keep going. Keep killing.”

“How did she— sorry, it’s not my business.”

Wade was showing an amount of restraint Logan hadn’t known he was capable of. He was dying to know more, it was written all over his face, but he wasn’t asking. 

Maybe that’s why Logan found himself offering up answers where he usually shut down instead. People always acted like they were entitled to their story. Like it was just some mission debrief or a tragic anecdote and not real things that happened to real people. Real, raw memories that felt like physical pieces of himself being handed out every time he had to talk to a soulless government agent with a notepad or morbidly curious teammate. 

He’d stopped talking about it altogether. Hadn’t told anyone the details in years. The people who needed to know knew and everyone else could fuck right off. 

Wade had managed to move his way from the “fuck right off” column into “need to know” over the past few months, and Logan felt the words coming more naturally than he was used to, less reluctant to part with this piece of himself when it was Wade’s hands it was falling into.

“Same type of program you ‘n I were both put through. You’re one of the few people alive that can even comprehend the horrors those bastards were capable of. Ask what you wanna ask.”

“Designed?”

Logan nodded and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking down at his hands folded between them. 

“Took my DNA, fucked around with it to get Laura. Then, as if that wasn’t fucking enough, fine-tuned the design ‘til Gabby came along. They had Laura for…for a long time before— I didn’t know—” he shook his head, trying not to let himself get stuck on the same details that haunted him, would always haunt him.  

“But Gabs was barely a year when Charles discovered the place an’ who they were, what they were doin’. New shell corporation name, but same scientists, same goals, same medical horror experimental bullshit.”

“Laura seems to have adjusted okay,” Wade said, not prying or asking for more details like they usually did, or gasping with horror at the length of time Laura had suffered at their hands — at the length of time Logan hadn’t been there for her. No, somehow he said something that didn’t make Logan feel like shit. 

“Kid’s resilient. Grew up way too fast, learned to kill before she learned t’read.”

He heard Wade breathe out a Jesus, but he didn’t add anything else so Logan kept going, words coming out that he hadn’t known he needed to say, that he needed someone to hear. 

“If it were up to me she’d be in college or out in the world livin’ a normal life. God knows she deserves it. But it ain’t up to me. She's had enough choices taken from her. She says she wants to be an X-Man? Likes doing what she’s good at to help people? Then I gotta respect that. And make damn sure I do everything I can to make sure she’s the best she can fucking be.”

It sounded defensive even to his own ears, but he couldn’t help it. He’d heard it all, half of people telling him he’s a shitty parent for letting her join the X-Men and the other half mad at him for holding her back as long as he had, trying to give her some semblance of normalcy for what was left of her childhood. 

Wade blew out a breath, running a hand over his head. 

“Well, not that my opinion holds much weight, but from what I’ve seen you’re doing a great fucking job with the hand you’ve been dealt.” He let out a huff of breath, a sound adjacent to a laugh, and added, “and I thought my situation was fucked up. Damn.”

Logan responded with a cathartic bark of probably inappropriate laughter, his chest finally loosening enough to breathe properly for the first time since he’d gotten out of the shower. 

“Don’t think guys like us get the luxury of havin’ anything come easy.”

Wade made a wounded noise. 

“Out of respect for the solemnity of the moment, I’m gonna leave that one alone, but you reeeeeally can’t set me up like that and expect me not to take the bait.” Wade pursed his lips and Logan glared at him. “C’mon man, I only have so much self control.”

Logan threw a lumpy pillow at him. 

“Go take your damn shower, Wilson,” he growled, but there was a smile tugging at his lips that he couldn’t quite stifle. 

He should just go the fuck to sleep. Wouldn’t do anybody any good driving home now. He needed to sleep, Wade needed to sleep. They could get a couple hours then head out first thing. That was the plan all along. The girls were fine; getting home a few hours early wouldn’t change anything.

He was still sitting on the edge of his bed debating with himself when Wade emerged from the bathroom. 

“So… you wanna drive or you want me to? Full disclosure, if you don’t let me drive I get to be in charge of the tunes and I already have like seven roadtrip playlists lined up and ready to go. You like n’sync, right?”

Logan tossed him the keys and reached for his boots. 

Logan braced himself for a fallout that never came. He was sure Wade was going to start pulling away, limiting Ellie’s play dates, etc. Any other parent would. He’d gone over about a hundred different scripts in his head on what he’d say to Gabby, how to explain it in a way that didn’t make her feel like shit, like a monster. 

He barely knew how to do that for himself on a good day, but he’d figure something out. 

Except, he didn’t have to because nothing changed. 

They’d arrived back at the mansion a little past sunrise and Wade had taken Ellie home. Logan had expected either a lengthy text or complete radio silence until the inevitable awkward “sorry, it’s just too dangerous,” conversation on Monday, but he got neither. 

Gabby had crawled into bed with him and he’d gotten a good solid four hours before getting up to make a late breakfast. By the time he was done, he had a missed text from Wade that he waited to read until Gabby left the room. 

It wasn’t anything he’d expected. 

Wade: does gabby wanna come 2 dinner? Apparently it’s SUPER unfair we came home early & I “kidnapped” my darling child this morning b4 they could play 

And that was apparently that. 

If Wade wasn’t going to bring it up, neither was he. How did he say “thanks for not making my kid feel like a monster after she stabbed your kid with the razor sharp claws that pop out of her hands when she has a bad dream?” 

He was pretty sure Hallmark didn’t make a card for that.

Chapter Text

A few weeks later, end of May

Logan

He should’ve seen it coming.

With the increase in jobs came an increase in proximity and every day he was discovering some new, annoyingly endearing, fact or trait that he’d never been privy to before. It was only a matter of time before he lost control of the situation. 

It happened after a mostly average job – maybe a few more guns than they were expecting, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Logan had taken a bullet to the neck, through and through, and the blood was tacky and irritating beneath his collar as it dried. Wade had gotten the brunt of it – a shitty marksman with no real aim employing a spray and pray technique that’d done little more than annoy the ex-merc, earning himself a stab to the gut to bleed out on a dusty warehouse floor instead of a quick death. 

So, technically, that meant Wade hadn’t killed him, just facilitated the injury that led to his death. That didn’t count against their death toll (which was supposed to be zero, ideally, though Scott knew better than to expect miracles). Logan considered it a good day if they kept it under five. 

It’d been a good day.

He’d been distracted once they got to the hotel, running on autopilot while on the phone with the girls, and he’d forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom with him. There was a patch of dried blood that the collar of his suit kept rubbing against, just noticeable enough to be annoying, and all he was thinking about was getting in the shower and scrubbing it away. He didn’t realize until he got out that he didn’t have anything to change into. 

Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t like he was self conscious; he had very little care for societal norms around nudity and god knew Wade’d never met a boundary he didn’t tap dance over with glee. He’d barged in on Logan in various states of undress dozens of times, once even going so far as to surprise him in the shower with a mission that’d turned out to involve too much double- and triple-crossing for Logan’s taste. 

But things were different now. 

It’s not that he’d never thought about it, but there’d always been a safe layer of hatred between them that stopped any ill-advised fantasies formed in the dark of night from bleeding into the daylight. That layer was gone now. 

He sighed. 

He couldn’t hide in there forever. He finished drying off and wrapped the brittle, overbleached towel around his waist, and, forcing himself to relax, opened the door. 

Godfuckingdamnit. 

Wade was standing with his back to the mirror, suit unzipped and hanging off his hips as he contorted his body, knife in hand. 

“The fuck’re you doing?”

“Trying to get this bullet out. It’s stuck and I can’t—“ he twisted his torso as much as physically possible but still couldn’t get the angle right to stick the knife in and pop it out, “—fucking get it out.”

Logan sat down on one of the beds, and, independent of any rational thought, reached out to tug Wade towards him by the dangling arms of his half-undone suit. 

His bare feet stumbled across the cheap laminate, nearly dropping the knife before steadying himself with a hand on Logan’s bare shoulder, standing between his legs. 

“Here. Hold still.” He pushed on Wade’s hips to make him turn around, then reached up and located the lodged bullet with his fingertips. It was close to his spine, way too close to attempt crude field surgery removing it if it was anyone but Wade. He released a single claw and carefully set about carving it out. 

“Shit oooof.” Wade collapsed where he stood, falling onto Logan’s lap as Logan wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. “Think you nicked my spinal cord there, Peanut.”

“Whoops,” Logan deadpanned, making Wade bust out laughing. He tilted his head back and it landed on Logan’s shoulder, long neck inches from Logan’s mouth, his scent concentrated and thick. 

Logan's mouth watered with the insane urge to lean forward and taste. 

He ignored it. 

“Any other bullets need removing?” Even to his own ears his voice sounded strained. 

Fuck. 

He ran his hand down Wade’s back, then up his side, pressing gently to feel for any abnormalities (aside from the obvious). He felt more than heard the stutter of Wade’s lungs as his hand moved further inward, fingers fitting into the spaces between his ribs. 

“If I could feel anything below the belt right now this would be reeeeaaal awkward.” 

For as bad as Logan sounded, Wade sounded worse. 

Logan’s hand slipped lower on his abdomen without his permission, stopping where his suit was bunched at his hips. 

Wade let out a little whimper, prompting Logan’s eyes to wander down to the rapidly growing bulge in his lap. 

“Looks like the healin’ factor’s kicked in.”

What the fuck are you doing? He asked himself, then promptly ignored the faint voice of reason that told him to stop before he did something he couldn’t take back. 

Wade’s breaths sped up along with his heart rate, his arousal thick in the air, filling Logan’s lungs. He might not be fawning over Logan with a schoolboy crush anymore, but he still had some interest, even if it was only physical. 

Logan could work with that. This didn’t have to be anything more than it was.  

Maybe he could get it out of his system and move on with his life, never think about it again. 

One time thing. 

Wade was unnaturally still, like he was afraid to move. Logan subtly tilted his nose closer to his neck, just behind his ear, and breathed in. 

Sweat and blood and a lot of arousal, and underneath all that, just a hint of fear. A slightly bitter note to the otherwise sweetly spiced scent filling the room. 

“You’re panicking,” he observed out loud while internally warring with himself over whether or not to let him go. Instinct and desire were quickly overpowering his capacity for rational thought. 

“That hand contains three very sharp slicing implements and it’s reeeeeeal close to my dick,” Wade pointed out, making no attempt to do anything about it. 

“Want me to move it?”

Tell me to stop. 

Wade slowly nodded his head and ice started to form in Logan’s veins — fucking idiot. Goddamn animal — until his words, breathy and quiet, almost pleading, made their way to Logan’s ears. 

“Yeah. Closer.”

He lost the war with rational thought.  

Logan’s hand slipped beneath the bunched fabric, fingertips brushing against his rapidly filling cock. 

“Breathe,” he instructed and Wade released the heavy breath he’d been holding since he spoke. 

There wasn’t much space between body and leather for technique or finesse, but that didn’t seem to make much of a difference. 

Wade was instantly, beautifully responsive, arching into his touch, pressing back against Logan’s naked chest. 

He’d touched Wade’s bare skin before, been pressed front to back, chest to chest, hell even the erection wasn’t exactly new — he’d felt the outline of Wade’s hard cock against him at various points of combat and captivity throughout the years, but never like this, never in context, and never with nothing between them. 

He was warm in Logan’s hand; the scars that decorated the rest of his body continued below his belt. Logan had wondered — fantasized — about what he might feel like, but his imagination had been woefully inadequate at conjuring up the heft of him, the way he fit in Logan’s fist, the catch and drag of uneven skin against his smooth palm and fingertips. 

He wished he could see; that he could strip Wade completely bare and lay him out on the lumpy mattress beneath them, atop the scratchy hotel comforter, and truly take his time. That he was allowed to look his fill without interruption, that he could see the look on Wade’s face, watch for the way his eyebrows knit together or his teeth made indents in his lower lip; all those little micro expressions of pleasure that told Logan he was doing a good job, told him where to keep touching, where to back off. He wanted to know if Wade liked the way it felt when his thumb traced the intricate spiderwebs of puckered scarring as much as Logan did. If he felt it more or less than when he touched the unmarried skin. He wanted to know if he liked the tease of a loose grip or if his impatience permeated all areas of his life. He wanted to know it all. 

But he couldn’t ask. That would break whatever spell they were currently under, pull them out of this weird limbo where it was okay to be doing what he was doing and drop them back into the reality where there existed hundreds of reasons why he shouldn’t. 

He closed his eyes and listened instead, to the hitches in Wade’s breaths when he moved his hand just so, adjusting his speed and grip to maximize the choked off whimpers and half-curses spit into the silence surrounding them. 

Wade’s foot slipped where he’d been bracing himself on the floor and Logan instinctively planted his free hand flat against the center of Wade’s chest, steadying him and unintentionally pressing them closer together. The overcorrection had Logan choking on his own sudden groan. 

Wade made a pleased noise in the back of his throat at that and experimentally, intentionally, rolled his hips, the threadbare towel between them doing little to hide the eager response of Logan’s body. 

He did it again, more confidently, and Logan tightened his grip in retaliation, one-upping Wade at a game neither of them were losing.

The responding laugh was light and airy, and the glimpse of Wade’s smile sent a tingling sensation down his spine and through his limbs. 

His free hand traveled down the broad expanse of Wade’s chest, the curve of his waist, coming to rest high up on his thigh. Logan’s fingers kneaded firm muscle under the thinnest layer of plush fat, and he used the hold to guide the angle and tempo of Wade’s movements in his lap. 

As was usually the case, they fell into an easy rhythm as soon as Logan got out of his own head about it. He’d always thought it was surprising how well they worked together, and apparently this was no exception. 

Wade was expressive with his pleasure, letting his body speak for him instead of his tongue, and it was a language Logan was studying, learning, one in which he wanted to become fluent. 

When Wade wanted it faster he got impatient, moving his hips and throwing off their rhythm until Logan caught up. Special attention to one spot for too long made him squirm; any attention to the scar just beneath his slit that curled in a crescent shape and ended right below the head of his cock made him keen and pulled a delicious sound from his lungs that Logan desperately wanted to swallow. The tightness of his grip was dictated by the blunt fingernails digging into his forearm, the sweet sting setting Logan’s nerves alight.

Sweat dripped between them, forming at the base of Wade’s neck and sliding down the knobs of his spine to be soaked up by the edge of Logan’s towel. 

His gums itched with the need to bite, to stake a claim, but he gritted his teeth, ignoring it. He was so fucking close. He felt like a teenager getting off on a little friction and the hint of something more. His lungs were filled with the scent of sex and Wade, his senses overwhelmed in the good way, the way that stopped him overthinking and only let him focus on sensations. 

He dragged his hand from Wade’s thigh up his abdomen, needing more skin contact while he was allowed to touch freely. The muscles twitched and bunched under his palm and his mind conjured up another scenario, Wade on his back, unable to keep still as Logan wrapped his lips around him, keeping one hand flat against his stomach to stop him bucking his hips. 

Logan’s moan tapered off into a growl, unable to help the bucking of his own hips at the image. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Wade chanted, a frantic lilt to his voice that Logan wanted to bottle up and keep. 

He swiped his thumb across the leaking head of Wade’s cock, mouth watering with the desire to taste, and felt a swell of pride at the sound it wrenched from his lips. 

As much as he wanted to drag this out, the longer he touched the harder it got to want to stop at just touching. It would take so little for them to both be naked and horizontal. All he needed was the smallest suggestion from Wade, a verbal acknowledgment that it was something he wanted, not just something he was letting happen, and Logan’s resolve would dissolve faster than a sugar sculpture in the rain. 

But Wade, for possibly the first time in the history of the universe, was keeping his thoughts to himself, content enough to let Logan touch without asking for more. 

Logan was alone in his greed, for better or worse. 

He ignored the guilty twinge in his gut and focused on getting Wade off before he could talk himself out of it or into something worse. There’d be time for anxiety later — probably hours upon hours of it — but right now he had the fulfillment of a fantasy in his lap, in his arms, and he wasn’t going to miss a single second of the orgasm Wade was about to have at his hands. 

Logan could feel him starting to fall apart. His movements became more erratic and he finally seemed to lose the careful control he’d had over his voice, his moans rapidly growing in volume. 

That’s more like it. 

That’s what Logan had been expecting — hoping — to hear from the merc with a mouth. 

“Fuck just like that.” His nails dug harder into Logan’s forearm, his other hand flailing out to stabilize himself, to hold on, landing high on Logan’s thigh. His fingers slipped underneath the edge of his towel, bare skin on bare skin. Logan felt it like a brand. 

His heart hammered beneath Logan’s palm and he let out one long, guttural moan as he spilled over Logan’s fist. The heat of it spread through Logan’s body, that final push igniting the liquid fire running through his veins, setting off his own orgasm. Breath catching, muscles clenching, holding on to each other as though one or both might float away without the anchor. He buried his face against Wade’s neck, biting down hard on his own bottom lip to stop himself from doing something stupid like putting his mouth on Wade, and for a few blissful seconds nothing existed but them. 

Wade, of course, was the first to move, abruptly letting go and pushing himself up out of Logan’s arms. Meanwhile, Logan would’ve been content to stay that way for the rest of the night. 

More inappropriate than his earlier thoughts of laying Wade out on the bed were his thoughts of after. The way Logan craved the physical contact, the reassurance. How he wanted nothing more than to pull Wade under the covers and just go to sleep. 

His skin prickled, cold in the absence of Wade’s body heat, and he was suddenly aware of how small the towel around his waist was. He brought his knees together, wiping his hand off on the ruined cloth while Wade fumbled around, grabbing his bag for the shower. 

“Uh, thanks? For the uh, hand,” Wade stuttered, giving up his attempt to do or say something normal midway through a stilted gesture at his spine. 

Logan laughed, the hoarse, punched out sound startling both of them. He didn’t have the energy to freak out about it yet. The endorphins coursing through his system worked their magic to keep him loose limbed and slightly delirious. He leaned back on his clean hand, eyes slipping shut, bone-deep exhaustion finally starting to catch up to him. It’d been a long day before this, and now he just wanted to curl up and pass out. He could deal with the rest tomorrow. 

“I’m gonna…” 

Logan looked over at him, eyes half-lidded, as Wade trailed off, thumb pointed in the direction of the bathroom, already halfway to the door. Logan nodded, not that he needed to give his permission. It was just the most articulate response he could muster at the moment. 

He laid the rest of the way back, listening to the click of the lock and the squeak of an ancient faucet turning on. The running water threatened to lull him to sleep if he wasn’t careful. 

He ran his hand across his sternum, scratching lightly through the hair there. He rubbed his fingertips together, brow furrowing, and looked down to see coppery flakes of dried blood clinging to his chest hair, a brickish red streak smeared across his breastbone from the healed incision he’d made to remove the bullet from Wade’s back.

He stared at it, the dark crimson contrasting against the black of his hair and the blotchy peachy-pink flush of his skin, for longer than necessary before convincing himself to get up and wipe it off. 

He hit the lights, leaving the lamp by Wade’s bed on so he wouldn’t trip his way across the room when he came out, and laid back down after throwing on some boxers. 

He figured he’d pretend to be asleep when Wade got out, wait for his brain to catch up and torture him for a few hours, then wake them up with the sun to get an early start. They still had a delivery to make before heading back to New York. 

He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

Wade

Twelve days. 

It had been twelve long, excruciating days since his monumental, life changing experience and somehow, life had not changed. Externally. 

Internally, Wade was freaking out. Early morning before Ellie woke up and late at night after she went to sleep? Losing his mind. While doing chores? Ruminating. In the shower? Replaying. Around Logan? Static. 

He’d been avoiding the man as much as he could without it looking like he was avoiding him. Which, it turned out, was not a lot. When had Logan become a daily fixture in his life? 

And how the fuck was he being so normal about it?

Wade would think he’d hallucinated the whole thing if not for the cum stains on his suit. 

He’d gone over about a billion scenarios that night while he hid in the shower, staying in there long enough for the water to run cold and his hands to go all pruny, and then just a few minutes more for good measure, and once he’d finally worked up the courage to go back out there and face the inevitable conversation head on, the bastard had the audacity to be asleep!

Real sleep too, not just pretending to get out of the awkward situation. Passed the fuck out and looking all adorable and soft, all those deep worry lines smoothed out, frowny mouth relaxed, pink lips all plush and slightly parted revealing just a hint of those cute fangs Wade had spent more time than was healthy fantasizing about. 

So they’d missed their window to talk about it (aside from Wade’s MORTIFYING “thanks for the hand,”) and now Wade was freaking out and Logan was not. 

What did that mean?

Was he just supposed to act like it didn’t happen? Was Logan waiting for him to bring it up? Did he want it to happen again or did he regret it and that’s why he was acting like nothing happened? Or was he acting like that because it was nothing to him? Just two dudes being bros giving each other a hand? Was that like, part of the X-Men code of conduct or something? When one is in need of a good night’s sleep their teammate shall perform platonic manual sex acts for the sake of the mission? (Seemed like the kind of thing laserface would put into a contract, in Wade’s opinion). 

If that was the case, he was one thousand percent on board, just as soon as he could take a long walk off a short pier to drown his sorrows. 

So here he was, twelve days later, laying awake in a hotel bed after another successful mission, trying not to freak out and failing miserably. 

Wade had felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin all day. Especially after the drive down. Six hours in a confined space with a guy whose hand’d been down his pants, trying to act like he didn’t know the little grunty-gasp he makes when he comes was taking up just about all of Wade’s brain capacity. 

Thank goodness for premade playlists. He barely had the wherewithal to sync the Bluetooth let alone pick a song.  

Logan, for his part, still seemed completely unaffected. Cool as a cucumber. Totally unfazed. 

Maybe he was trying to forget about it. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he was just better at compartmentalization than Wade. The annoying fuckers in Wade’s brain kept opening up all the boxes he shoved things into and taking them out to look at in the most inopportune moments. 

Like in the middle of the mission, suggesting helpful things like:

Maybe if you get shot he’ll use his claws to pull the bullet out again. You should dodge less. 

And:

Do you think he was looking at our ass when we did that roll? I think he was looking at our ass. 

And:

He kinda sounds the same when he gets stabbed as he does when he comes. Do you remember every single time we’ve ever stabbed him? Let’s spiral about it.  

It was truly a miracle Wade ended the mission in one piece. 

Now if only he could make himself shut up, he might make it through the night in one piece too. As it was, he was pretty sure Logan was about three seconds from stabbing him. 

And he still couldn’t stop. 

“You ever seen a horse skeleton? Those teeth man. We’re so lucky those guys aren’t carnivores. Although, if they were, they'd have different, probably even more terrifying, teeth,” he continued his fifteen minute rant about odontia. 

“Would you shut the fuck up about goddamn teeth? The fuck is wrong with you today?” Logan finally snapped. 

YOU! He wanted to scream, but held back. 

“Sorry peanut, the voices are feeling all sorts of chatty tonight,” he half-lied. They were being loud. 

“What the fuck do I have to do to make it stop?” Logan groaned and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

“Slept great last time.”

The silence he was met with was deafening. 

Shit. 

Why the FUCK would you say that? 

His heart started racing, banging against his ribcage like it was as eager to escape this situation as he was. 

Just as he was opening his mouth to bring up how some dogs are starting to be born without permanent first premolars because they’re obsolete and that’s essentially an example of real life evolution which basically makes them mutants so the X-Mansion should honestly have more dogs, there was a rustling that sounded like blankets shifting, the squeak of a mattress to his right. 

“Come here.”

The demanding tone had Wade standing to attention in more ways than one. His lungs stopped working in the seconds it took to scramble up and over to the side of Logan’s bed, the thought never even crossing his mind to disobey. 

The beds were barely a step apart, so there wasn’t far for him to go. As soon as he was within arms reach, Logan yanked him back down, arranging Wade on top of him, straddling his thighs. 

Wade was suddenly aware of so many things. 

The crack in the curtains letting through just enough yellow street light for Wade’s eyes to pick up the nervous determination and — dare he say it — hunger in Logan’s eyes. The thinness of his cotton boxers, the soft brush of Logan’s night pants against the insides of his thighs. Warm hands and even warmer skin. 

He felt like he was about to combust. 

Without any fanfare or hesitation, Logan dipped his hand below Wade’s waistband and Wade choked on an embarrassing noise pulled from somewhere deep in his chest. He slumped forward, one hand planting hard on the pillow next to Logan’s face. 

“Yeah, shit, okay, that works.”

“S’posed to be making you shut up.” Logan’s voice was low and rough. It was a tone Wade had heard a thousand times before, a tone that said Logan’s self control was razor thin and Wade had about six more words before he had eight inches of Wolverine buried inside him — although this time he suspected (hoped) it wasn’t his claws Logan was thinking about sinking into his guts. 

“Yep. Yes. Can do. Shutting—” Wade’s words cut off with a gasp, his eyes rolling in the back of his head as Logan squeezed and twisted his wrist. 

Wade caught the shadow of a smug grin from the man beneath him and would’ve called him out on it, if he could’ve remembered how words worked. 

Either Logan had been paying a lot more attention than he’d realized last time or he was just that fucking good at handjobs. Wade wasn’t complaining either way.

In fact, he wasn’t saying anything. Every thought in his brain burnt up and turned to ash, floating away as soon as Logan wrapped his fingers around him. 

It was over almost as fast as it’d started. 

Like. 

Embarrassingly fast. 

Can you blame me? The only reason I managed to hold out as long as I did last time was that my body was using most of its energy to repair my spine.

He didn’t have that advantage this time. 

Logan smirked up at him, self-satisfied and a little mean and damn if it didn’t make his insides feel all warm and squirmy despite having just come from the second best handjob of his life.  (That first one would always hold a special place in his heart. And spankbank).

Logan wiped his hand off on Wade’s shirt — rude — then tugged it over his head and dropped it to the floor next to his bed. 

Wade flinched. He wanted to cover up, but reminded himself it was dark and he was looming over Logan so he probably couldn’t see much. 

And it was his own damn fault if he didn’t like what he saw. Wade’d tried to save him from it by keeping the shirt on in the first place.  

“Is once enough to tire you out?” Logan asked, instead of dumping Wade on the floor alongside his soiled shirt. 

“That depends. Is twice on the menu?” Wade asked, still too distracted by what just happened to really know what he was saying. 

Greedy. 

“That depends.” Logan cocked his head to the side, giving Wade an assessing look that made him even more self-conscious. “Can you come again before I do?”

Wade's eyes widened at the suggestion and he nodded eagerly without hesitation.

Logan shifted underneath him, pulling the waistband of his pants down just far enough to get his cock free and jostling Wade into pressing more firmly against him in the process. 

Yeah, coming again would NOT be a problem. Especially not once Logan wrapped a hand around them both. The healing factor usually had him ready to go again fast, but this was a record even for him. 

Ho-ly shit. 

It felt so good that for the first few minutes he didn’t notice how tense Logan was beneath him. Not an I’m-about-to-come-my-brains-out kinda tense, but a I’m-holding-myself-in-check-as-hard-as-I-can kind. 

That wasn’t okay. He needed to be enjoying this too otherwise Wade was gonna feel reeeeaaaal gross about it come morning when his brain cells came back on duty. 

He shifted his weight to take more of it on his knees so he could slide a hand between them. He took a risk — hoping beyond hope his actions wouldn’t make Logan call the whole thing off — and gently tugged at Logan’s wrist, pulling his hand away from where it was wrapped around them both and moving it to the mattress beside him. Wade’s fingers trailed over the thin skin and prominent veins of his forearm, muttering “let me,” against his neck, before proceeding to replace Logan’s hand with his own. 

He moved slowly at first, waiting to be thrown off or gut stabbed or something equally effective at telling him to fuck off, but nothing happened. Logan stayed still under him, letting him take the lead. 

He started picking up the pace, listening for the little hitches and sighs that told him what felt best, trying to map his movements to Logan’s pleasure. It wasn’t exactly rocket science, but staying focused while his own dick was pressed up against The Wolverine’s was no small feat. 

He’d been dreaming about this moment for literal decades. 

Logan relaxed under him in increments. Wade couldn’t see that well, but he could feel it, hear it. The rustle of sheets slowly being released from a white knuckle grip, the uptick in breathing as he stopped trying so hard to keep it under control, the tension bleeding from the muscular thighs boxed in by Wade’s bent knees. 

His own thigh twitched at the sudden brush of fingertips and he cursed himself for the startled reaction because the touch disappeared almost instantaneously. But then, a minute later, another tentative touch, this time lingering, sliding up the corded muscle until he was tracing one of the many scars along Wade’s hipbone with his thumb. 

It was too much. 

He had to let go of himself, angling his hips a little to the left so that he could concentrate solely on Logan. It felt too fucking good to do both and he didn’t want to ruin Logan’s experience with the feeling of his scarred skin against his perfect cock. Not that Logan was making that an easy goal to achieve. He kept lifting his own hips while guiding, encouraging, Wade’s to rock in time with his hand so that Wade ended up rubbing himself against Logan’s abs, the perfect amount of washboard friction to get him close but not quite over the edge. 

But even then it was still so much. The cacophony of sounds, the slap of skin on skin, heavy panting breaths and wet gasps, choked off moans, the creak of a mattress that’d seen better days. (There has never been a better day than this). 

It built so steadily, so intensely, that he didn’t realize he was about to come until it was too late to do anything about it but give in. 

His mouth was occupied with Logan’s neck to keep him from saying something stupid. Not kissing, but not not kissing either. More like trailing his open, panting mouth across the column of smooth skin and rough stubble, occasionally letting his teeth get involved when he felt words bubbling up in his throat. 

He felt the words now. Curses and confessions threatened to spill out of his mouth. The skin in front of his lips was hot and soft and inviting, beckoning him to lick and suck, to write the words with his tongue instead of speaking them into existence. 

He gave in, dragging his tongue up Logan’s jugular. He could feel his pulse thrumming underneath the thin skin and prickle of his beard.  

“Fuck, Wade.”

Two words. Eight letters that packed a punch harder than the Juggernaut. They hit him like a freight train, knocking the wind — and his orgasm — right out of him. His body seized up, muscles going taut before snapping like an overstretched rubber band. He bit down at the juncture of Logan’s shoulder, harder than he meant to, but probably not the hardest he’d ever bitten him if he was being honest – fair fights were for losers and martyrs, of which he was neither.

If he could’ve strung any thoughts together he might’ve felt bad about it, except the next thing he knew Logan’s fingers were digging into his flank as he arched up beneath him, liquid warmth spreading over Wade’s clenched fist as he continued to work Logan over even while his own body shuddered through the intense aftershocks of his orgasm. 

His mind miraculously whited out for a few precious moments, leaving him feeling floaty and ephemeral. His awareness came back gradually – the repeating pressure of a hand stroking his leg, an ache in his lower back from leaning over, humid breath against his shoulder, a sticky mess in his hand. He went to lick his lips and realized he was still mouthing at Logan’s neck.

Awkward.

He stopped, pushing himself up on his clean hand, his arm shaking a little from exhaustion. 

The body beneath him shifted, leaning to the side and groping around on the floor for something. 

He sat back a little more at Logan’s guidance and realized belatedly that the thing he’d been reaching for and was now cleaning them up with was Wade’s discarded shirt. That was gonna be soooooo gross if he forgot to do laundry again; maybe he would just toss it. 

He could feel the heavy pull of sleep, the peaceful void that had been eluding him all night, finally catching up to him. 

What if I just—

Don’t even think about it. 

Getting up immediately is weirder than just collapsing over to the side. I wouldn’t even try to cuddle! He’ll be passed out in a few minutes anyway if last time was any indicator. Won’t even notice I'm here. 

Get our ass out of this bed before he kicks it out. 

It’ll hurt less if you don’t give him the chance. 

This was a means to an end, not a romantic romp. We don’t need to make it weird. 

Fuck both of you for being right. 

Wade made himself get up, walking on wobbly legs back over to his own bed and collapsing on it face down the way he wished he could’ve done next to Logan. 

Fucking greedy. 

Shut up. 

Now that his high was fading that slightly sour feeling in the pit of his stomach was coming back like last time. He tried to ignore it. 

“Better?” Logan asked, and it sounded like a genuine question, not the sardonic quip Wade usually expected from him. 

“The best,” he answered honestly, his sleepy tongue too loose to bother lying about it. 

“Good. Now go the fuck to sleep.” 

Wade was sure he was imagining the soft undertone of the order, the smile in his voice. He touched his fingers to his forehead in a lazy, mock salute Logan surely wouldn’t be able to see, letting his arm fall heavy and lax, hanging off the bed. 

“Sir yes sir,” he mumbled as sleep finally took him. 

“Shit.” 

Wade rummaged through his bag the next morning, looking for and failing to find something to throw on over his naked chest that wasn’t covered in spunk. 

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked, speaking for the first time since they’d woken up. He usually didn’t talk for the first hour or so in the morning, so Wade had only been thirty-percent panicking about the lack of communication or acknowledgement of what’d happened last night. He wasn’t planning on drawing attention to the subject at all if Logan wasn’t going to, but his lack of foresight on packing extra clothes in case of jizz-related emergencies was coming back to bite him in the ass. 

Who knew that was a thing we needed to plan for?

“Only packed one shirt,” he explained, without elaborating any further. 

Logan chuckled, a little chuff through his nose and the smallest hint of an upturn to his lips while he looked away, like he was remembering exactly why that was a problem. 

(Or maybe that was just wishful thinking). 

“My bad. Here.” He reached in his own bag and tossed Wade a plain black tee shirt. 

Be normal be normal be normal. 

He pulled it on, giving himself a second to school his features into something resembling a cool and collected person. 

“Thanks,” he said. Externally, he was turning back to zip up his pack and finish getting ready to leave. Internally, he was screaming.  

Ohmygod I did it. That was sooooooo normal. Like, King of Normaltown, Normalbraska, USA behavior right there. We’re so fucking normal. 

The return trip felt less anxiety-laden this time, and maybe just a tiny bit hopeful, like maybe Wade could look forward to this kinda thing happening on the regular (and pack accordingly).  

He could totally do casual. He could be sooooooo casual about Logan touching his dick. About touching Logan’s dick. He could be casual about so, so many things, and options, and positions. 

People did this sort of thing all the time. 

He used to do this sort of thing all the time. 

Absolutely no way he was going to end up regretting it or breaking his own heart into a million shattered pieces or anything.

Chapter Text

Logan

Logan had spent a lot of his life compartmentalizing, shrinking parts of himself down to fit into little boxes that could be taken out and dusted off when needed then put back up on the shelf when they weren’t. There were personas that he’d outgrown, ones that he only reached for under specific circumstances, ones that he hoped would never see the light of day again. There were a handful he kept in rotation – teacher, father, superhero – that got used more than the rest, and as a result tended to bleed together no matter how hard he tried to keep them separate. 

He’d tried giving the rest of them up to focus solely on being a father, but turned out the world didn’t give a shit about whether he wanted to hang up the claws or not. 

Now he settled for trying to keep them as separate as possible when he could. That was one of the reasons Laura’s comments last month had caught him so off guard. When they went out there in the field, when they put on the suits, they weren’t father and daughter anymore, they were teammates. He’d been mentoring her the same as he had Kitty and Jubilee what felt like a hundred years ago, not parenting. He understood now how it could feel the same, but in his mind, they were two completely different things. 

Kind of like wearing the yellow suit versus wearing the grey one – similar uses, but important distinctions. Two completely different boxes. 

Which was why he was fully confident he could keep what he and Wade were doing separate as well. 

What happened on the mission, stayed on the mission. The Wade who he met up with for picnics at the skate park and museum field trips wasn’t the same as the Wade he was quickly learning how to take apart with a flick of his wrist. 

He could keep the two things separate in his actions, which would keep them separate in his mind. Simple. The logic was sound and proven to be effective-ish. 

What they were doing on the road didn’t have to ruin anything at home. It wouldn’t. He was determined not to let it.  

(And maybe, just maybe, if he kept lying to himself like that, it would eventually become true. Until then, he could pretend. Not like he was going to stop.)

Sometimes, Logan got assigned the missions that were too dangerous for others to take — the asset retrieval inside a building rigged up with explosives, the destruction of a secret radioactive lab, etc — other times, he got the intimidation jobs — up and coming bad guys who needed to be scared straight, negotiations that needed to go in their favor, the list went on — and then there were the assignments that were off the books. The ones that didn’t get put in the weekly debrief or posted to the bulletin board. The ones that required a heavier touch and looser conscious. 

He wasn’t planning to ask Wade to come with him for this one. 

Despite racking up a not-insignificant body count on a weekly basis, Wade’s numbers for indiscriminate killing were way down from where they used to be. Logan knew he was trying to do better, be better, for Ellie, and he had no intention of ruining that for him. Besides, he didn’t actually need help for a stakeout and assassination (or stakeout takeout, as Wade had so eloquently taken to calling them a couple decades ago, the term sticking in his brain so that now Logan could hear him saying it, silly little sing-song-y voice in his ear, every single time he worked one). In fact, all adding a second person into the mix did was make it more likely for them to get caught. 

But then the girls had wanted to plan a sleepover and he’d mentioned he’d be out of town after Tuesday with limited contact, then Wade had asked why and the way his eyes lit up at the word “assassination” had the invitation tumbling out of his mouth before he could think twice. (That was probably a red flag; Logan chose to ignore it. Also, probably wasn’t supposed to share that much information; Logan was ignoring that too), 

And if that meant one more overnight mission with Wade, well, so be it. 

So here they were, day two of sitting at a sixth story window in a darkened hotel room, waiting for their mark to show up. The intel wasn’t clear on the specifics of when he was supposed to show up, just that he was at some point between two dates. There was some sort of fancy conference going on at the hotel across the street, the guestlist a who’s who of elite assholes who'd either already made their pacts with the devil or were well on their way to doing so. Logan didn’t ask for a ton of details on their particular mark — easier to stay focused that way — but he knew enough to know he wouldn’t be losing any sleep over wasting the guy. 

Wade had started complaining less than two hours after they’d gotten settled in. 

Logan had to remind him multiple times that he was the one who asked to be there and it’d work to cut down on the whining for a few hours, then he was right back at it. 

Today was even worse than yesterday. 

Logan cursed himself for the hundredth time for not wearing him out last night. He’d gotten too in his head about it, then let the moment slip by without making a move. 

Despite it happening on every overnight mission since that first time, Logan still hadn’t figured out a way to start something without feeling like he was going to die of anxiety and embarrassment. 

He’d never had a problem soliciting sex before, but this was different. This was Wade. 

He didn’t want to just assume, but he also couldn’t bring himself to ask outright and risk being rejected, which meant they had to keep going through this song and dance where Wade would pretend to be too wound up to sleep and Logan would pretend to be frustrated about it until one of them offhandedly suggested “that thing we did last time” and the other begrudgingly agreed and then they proceeded to fool around like a couple of teenagers under the bleachers trying to get off before the bell rang. 

It was pathetic, but Logan couldn’t figure out how to get from Point A to Point B without it, and Wade was so fucking hard to get a read on. He was always enthusiastic during, but it was like he flipped a switch as soon as it was over. There were no lingering touches, no cuddling, no aftercare; he was up and dressed, back in his own bed before his cum even had a chance to cool on Logan’s sheets. 

And Logan was fine with that. 

Honest. 

Intellectually, he knew it didn’t mean anything to Wade, (shouldn’t mean anything to him). They were just blowing off steam. It was convenient and easy, a means to an end and nothing more.  

Instinctually though… that was a whole different story. His body craved whether his brain wanted him to or not. That animal need to be close, to imprint himself on Wade’s skin, to gather up the sheets after and breathe nothing but their scent for the rest of the night. It was his instincts that were trying to make a mess of a good thing, and he was determined not to let them. 

He could keep himself in check. 

Wade was gearing up for something. He could tell by the way the man’s knee had been bouncing for the past twenty minutes and he kept glancing over when he thought Logan wasn’t looking. 

He’d been talking in circles for over an hour, speaking nonstop while saying nothing at all. Logan was trying his damnedest to ignore it, but his patience was wearing thin. 

“You know what would be fun?”

Wade directed the question his way, pausing for long enough to indicate he was actually looking for an answer to this one instead of just rambling through a hypothetical. 

“You shutting the hell up?” He couldn’t help snapping, nerves frayed to pieces. 

“Or…”

Wade slid out of his chair and onto his knees in front of Logan. 

Logan’s eyes strayed from their task, taking in the sight before him. 

And what a fucking sight it was. 

Black jeans stretched tight across his thick thighs where his palms rested, knees spread and nudging the insides of Logan’s combat boots. Wade tilted his chin up, running his tongue over his bottom lip with intention. 

“You could make me.”

Logan inhaled sharply, mouth suddenly dry and heart pounding against his ribcage. That was a step they hadn’t taken yet. Not because he hadn’t wanted to — he thought about it constantly, dreamed about it, nearly made the move each time he had the privilege of getting Wade into his bed — but every time he mustered up the courage to push for more, he talked himself out of it before he could. 

How could he ask for more when he was already toeing the line with what they were currently doing? 

He didn’t want to push his luck. 

Wade on the other hand, as usual, had no qualms about running headlong into a bad decision. Those were his favorite kind. 

When Logan failed to say anything one way or the other — too stunned and turned on to come up with a legible response — Wade, thankfully and correctly, took it as permission to keep going.

He reached for Logan’s belt and Logan shifted in his seat to make it easier for him to get the damn thing undone. He swallowed down a pleased noise at the first brush of Wade’s long, talented fingers against his overheated skin and increasingly interested dick. 

He caught the edge of a self-satisfied grin before Wade ducked his head. 

There were a lot of things about his mutation that Logan hated, being able to see Wade’s face in the dark as he brought his tongue to the base of Logan’s cock and dragged it slowly to the tip wasn’t one of them. 

He actually couldn’t think of a better use for night vision. 

He watched, mesmerized by the reverence with which Wade was exploring every inch of him with his lips, laving hot, wet kisses up and down his shaft that felt better than they had any right to. You’d’ve thought it was his first time, the way Wade had his knees shaking. 

Wade’s eyes flitted up and caught him watching. 

He put his fingers to Logan’s jaw, turning his head back to the scope he was meant to be using to look for their mark. 

“Eyes on the prize, big guy.”

They are, he wanted to say, but Wade was right (not a sentence he thought often), they were technically still working. 

It was difficult to concentrate on what was happening out the window when what was happening between his legs was so much more interesting, but he tried; he really did. They were supposed to be professionals. 

Wade went right back to the languorous pace he’d set, the anticipation in Logan’s core growing with each new press of his lips or swipe of his tongue.

He stopped breathing altogether when Wade wrapped his lips around the head of his cock. His eyes struggled to focus as the heat and suction overwhelmed his senses. His fingers itched to reach out, one hand making an aborted movement toward Wade’s face to push back the hoodie that was obscuring Logan’s view. 

But he wasn’t supposed to be looking, and he didn’t have permission to touch. 

He stopped himself just in time, cheap plastic creaking under his knuckles as he held on to the arm of his chair instead of what he wanted to. 

Wade brought his hands to Logan’s thighs, moving them as he moved — sliding up, up, up toward his pelvis as he took Logan down to the base; dragging down toward his knees as he pulled off, slow and torturous, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his cock until he reached the tip, where he lapped up the beads of precum he’d made appear.  

It was every bit as good as Logan had imagined it’d be. (And he’d imagined it a lot). 

His leisurely movements were driving Logan insane though, like he was settling in for the night, pacing himself to be there for a while. 

“Fuuuuuuck.”

The thought of keeping Wade on his knees all night, warming Logan’s cock with his pretty mouth while they waited for something to happen outside, keeping him on edge for hours… 

He was suddenly dying to know how long Wade could keep still for him, how long he could keep quiet. He could picture it so clearly, the pleading look on his face, lips stretched wide around his cock, big doe eyes bright and shiny with unshed tears, the way his muscular body would be strung tight with tension while he tried so hard to be good. 

He caught a sudden movement down in the street out the corner of his eye and he blinked a few times to refocus 

Goddamnit!

“Shit, stop, stop, that’s him,” he said, words tumbling out in a rush, though stopping was the last thing he wanted to do right now. 

Wade pulled off, looking almost as frustrated as Logan felt, and sat up on his knees. He leaned across Logan’s lap, shouldering him out of the way so he could look down the scope for himself. 

“Twenty-two motherfucking hours of this mind numbing shit and you show up now? Fucking bastard. You deserve this,” Wade muttered quietly to himself as he flicked the safety off. 

Logan got so distracted by the press of his body and the way the streetlights pouring in through the window cast their shadows over Wade’s annoyed yet determined face that the sound of the rifle trigger being pulled and chaos erupting in the street below caught him completely off guard. 

He’d been planning on taking the shot himself so Wade could still technically have a clear conscience about this one. 

Wade immediately started disassembling the gun, hands moving rapidly with the practiced ease of experience, while Logan was still processing what had just happened. 

And trying to will his erection away. He should not still be this hard after watching that. 

Wade looked up at him, pausing his task of shoving the gun parts into his backpack, his eyes flicking from Logan’s face to his lap (where his dick was still very much out and on display) and back to his face. 

“This is the part where we put our toys away, peanut,” he said with a smug little smirk on his lips. “Or didja need me to do it for you?”

“Fuck off,” Logan huffed, starting to tuck himself away, embarrassed and annoyed and still painfully, unhelpfully, aroused. 

Wade’s grin widened as he leaned in, knocking Logan’s uncoordinated hands out of the way to do it himself. He lifted up on his knees and put his lips to Logan’s ear, whispering low and seductive, 

“Don’t worry baby boy, I’m nowhere near done with you yet. Just gotta be patient and get us outta here without getting caught and you’ll get your grand finale.” He pressed the heel of his palm against Logan’s erection, making Logan buck up into his hand involuntarily. “Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. But we gotta go now, ’kay kitten?”

Logan nodded.

Get your fuckin’ shit together, man. You’re better than this. 

Sirens blared in the background, police and ambulances arriving at the scene of their crime as they arrived back in their other hotel room. 

They’d booked a second, in the much fancier, upscale hotel next door — the kind with cameras and meticulous accounting records — for alibi purposes and made sure to be seen checking in earlier in the day and that the cameras on their floor conveniently glitched while they were leaving and returning via fire exit. Wade had all sorts of useful gadgets he hadn’t been able to “play with” (his words) for years that he was absolutely giddy to put to use. If Logan had been alone he would’ve done things a bit differently, but the look of absolute glee on Wade’s face was worth the extra bells and whistles. 

He trusted Wade to know what he was doing. 

Wade

He wasn’t expecting the kiss.

He probably should’ve been. Logan had been looking at him like he wanted to eat him up since he’d finished off their mark. It’d taken him longer than it should’ve to figure it out, but he was pretty sure Logan had a bit of a competency kink going on. He’d tested his theory on the way back to their room, taking point and using a few more tricks than were strictly necessary to keep them inconspicuous and invisible to surveillance. It was worth it to watch the hunger in Logan’s eyes grow exponentially.  

Yeah, that was definitely a thing. 

Noted. 

So he was expecting the heavy hand landing on his shoulder that surely would’ve helped him to his knees if he hadn’t already been halfway down to the floor as soon as the door clicked shut. 

He’d expected (and encouraged) the rougher treatment, the eager thrusts that made them both gasp and moan. 

It’d been an embarrassing and tragically long time since Wade’d had his dick sucked and he assumed it was the same for Logan — he has to be desperate if he’s coming to us — so again, he expected the enthusiasm (using it to his advantage to get Logan’s clothes off even though full nudity wasn’t strictly necessary to the process). He’d even expected the quicker than usual release. 

But the hand grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him to his feet, the impact of the wall against his back and the wall of muscle against his front, and the eager, sloppy, uncoordinated press of lips against his own… that he wasn’t expecting. 

The Wolverine sucking the taste of his own cum from Wade’s tongue just wasn’t on his bingo card for this year. Or like, ever. 

Wade matched his enthusiasm, knowing better than to question it when the universe was giving him what he wanted. 

It happened so rarely, he sure as fuck wasn’t going to be the one to ruin it for himself. 

So he let himself be manhandled over to the bed, pushed into the fluffy mattress and followed down with more enthusiasm than grace. 

He slipped his fingers into Logan’s hair like he’d been dreaming about doing for ages, surprised but grateful when he wasn’t met with protest. It was long enough to grab so he did, gently at first, testing the waters, then harder when the response was an unambiguous moan against his collar bone. 

He filed that away for future use too, at this point comfortable assuming this would be happening again. 

Logan nipped at his throat in retaliation and Wade tugged again, pulling him back up greedily for another kiss, all teeth and tongues until he was melting into the feather pillows, grip loosening enough for Logan to break free and continue his journey south. 

He had just enough presence of mind to catch Logan’s hands as they attempted to drag his tee shirt up over his abs and guided them down to his waistband instead, wiggling in a way that subtly pulled his shirt back down while drawing attention to his neglected hard on instead. 

Logan was adequately distracted, nimble fingers immediately going to work on Wade’s jeans while he mouthed at his hipbone. 

Once he got them undone, he slipped his hands underneath Wade’s ass, taking his time squeezing and groping before finally hooking his fingers into the waistband and tugging. 

A jolt of panic shot up Wade’s spine as his naked thighs were revealed and his hands moved on autopilot to stop him from pulling any further. 

“Gotta get these outta the way if you want my mouth on ya, sweetheart,” Logan said, looking up at him from between his knees, big blue eyes soft and sultry all at once, melting the worry and turning it to something sweet and syrupy coating his insides. “Or we can do somethin’ else if that’s what y’want.”

“No!” Wade’s hand tightened around Logan’s wrist involuntarily, a different kind of panic gripping him at the notion of missing out on this. He cleared his throat, tried to reel in the desperate slut inside him before answering again, more composed. “No, s’fine. Keep going.”

Logan was smirking up at him, but it didn't feel cruel; it felt fond. 

He looked up at the ceiling and cursed his stupid heart for making things up just to torture him. 

Logan tapped his flank and Wade lifted his hips so he could finish being stripped. He swallowed down the protest, reminding himself that this wasn’t some one night stand or rescued damsel who didn’t know what he looked like under the suit. Logan knew. He’d seen every part of Wade — including his actual insides. This wasn’t some big reveal; he knew what he was getting into before he chose to start this. Besides, they’d been too focused on more important things to turn on the lights so there was only a dim glow coming from the lamp by the entryway. He probably couldn’t see that much. 

It didn’t make the impulse to hide go away, but it stalled it long enough for Logan to finish tossing his jeans and boxers across the room and return to his position between Wade’s (now bare) legs. 

His mouth was hot and greedy, sucking bruises that wouldn’t stick across Wade’s thighs, gnawing on his flesh, rolling bits of fat and muscle between his incisors. Wade pressed up into it, hoping to get caught on those sharp canines, but Logan was too careful to let that happen, despite Wade’s best efforts. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on it though because a moment later that mouth was swallowing him down and all thoughts of anything else were gone from his head.  

There had been a time — a dark time when he was angry and bitter and maybe just a teensy bit jealous — when he’d hoped Logan was bad at this; he’d convinced himself that the man would be completely selfish in bed, that the reason he was chronically single was that he was unwilling or unable to keep his lovers satisfied; the universe just wouldn’t be fair if he got to look like that AND be a good lay. 

Wade has never been happier to be proven wrong. 

The past few weeks had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that Logan knew what the fuck he was doing and was good at doing it, but Wade still had reservations. He could barely believe Logan was willingly touching his scarred shell of a body, he definitely wasn’t planning on pushing his luck and asking him to put his mouth on it. His self-esteem was hanging on by a thread on a good day, it wouldn’t survive the look of disgust on Logan’s face. 

But here he was, willing and eager, going to town on Wade with a level of enthusiasm usually reserved for porn stars and former prom queens. 

Wade was confused, but absolutely not complaining. 

Logan replaced his mouth with his hand, sucking instead on a spot just below Wade’s navel. His tongue dragged a searing trail upward, dipping into his belly button at the same time his thumb swirled around the head of his dick, making Wade squirm, body unsure of whether it wanted to get closer or get away. 

He made a noise against Wade’s ribs, a sort of laugh-moan. 

A loan, if you will. 

I will not. 

An erotic chuckle? 

That’s not a thing. 

It is a thing. Logan just invented it. Get it copyrighted and playing on every radio station pronto! 

This is why we don’t get laid. 

Yeah, definitely not the face— ow! 

He glared down at Logan who had Wade’s nipple between his teeth, alternating between gentle nibbles and the harsher bite that had brought him back out of his head. 

He met Wade’s eyes scoldingly.

“Pay attention to me.”

Wade choked on the air expelling from his lungs and nodded dumbly. He was rewarded with a series of rapid flicks of Logan’s tongue against his abused nipple and a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses across his sternum as he moved on to the other. 

There were certain parts of Wade’s body that felt like they had a direct line to his dick and it felt like Logan was making it his mission to find every single one. 

Wade’s favorite, and the one currently being mouthed at, was just below his collar bone on the left side (the right side somehow did nothing for him). 

He made a whiny noise through his nose, a desperate sound he hadn’t heard himself make in a long time, prompting Logan to make that sweet happy-moany sound again as he slid his free hand under Wade’s shoulder to keep him firmly pressed up against his mouth. 

As if he ever would try to get away. 

Logan’s other hand continued a steady pace jerking him off, using all the little tricks he’d learned over the past few weeks to keep Wade on edge while his mouth explored elsewhere. 

He didn’t even realize Logan had tricked him into taking his shirt off until he was moving back down Wade’s body to finish him off, leaving behind wet imprints of his mouth all over Wade’s naked chest that caught the chilly hotel air once he was no longer blanketed by his Wolverine. 

It was too late to be mad about it. His body was hurtling towards his orgasm at breakneck speed, completely unbothered by the non-consensual indecent exposure. 

Logan scraped his teeth along the crease between groin and thigh making Wade’s hyper-stimulated body twitch, nearly kneeing him in the head. 

He took the near miss in stride, sliding a hand beneath Wade’s ass and arranging him so that one leg now rested on Logan’s shoulder. His other was pinned to the mattress, knee bent, splayed out by Logan’s wide palm gripping the tender flesh on the inside of his thigh. 

He used the new leverage to take Wade deeper, throat working him over until he was crying out, back arched, eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

Logan kept at it until he was forced to stop by Wade’s tugging fingers in his hair, pulling him back up for one last kiss before the inevitable adrenaline crash reminded him where he was and what (who) he was doing. 

Wade didn’t have a good handle on how long it took Logan’s brain to come back online because he didn’t actually want to find out. He preferred running away before he got kicked out — that way he could at least retain a modicum of dignity and control over the situation. 

Can’t get hurt by rejection if you’re the one doing the rejecting. Or something like that. It made post-nut sense, so obviously it was right. 

Logan

Logan took his time, savoring the taste of Wade in his mouth and the soft slide of his tongue against the back of his teeth. 

He’d been naive to think he could make himself treat this — treat Wade — like just another notch on his belt. But really, what did it matter if he gave in to his delusions or not? Who was it hurting if he treated Wade like a lover in his mind as long as he didn’t take it too far out loud? 

Just himself. What else was new? 

Why shouldn’t he take as much as Wade was willing to give? He wasn’t taking advantage; Logan wasn’t his boss and he knew Logan had no power to offer him a place with the X-Men. There was nothing making them do this, it wasn’t transactional, either could call it off any time, so if Wade wasn’t going to call him out for his inappropriately fond behavior, he couldn’t think of any reason to feel guilty about it. 

As long as he remembered to leave it at check out, everything would be fine. 

So he took as much as he dared, listening for Wade’s pulse to return to normal and his breathing to even out, heralding the death knell of their tryst. It was the same every time. 

Instead of waiting for Wade to run away, this time Logan moved first. 

He noticed Wade’s eyes dart toward his shirt as he sat up, discarded on the ground a few inches away, within his reach if he leaned over Logan to get it. 

He stood up, “accidentally” kicking the piece of clothing out of his way and much further into the room before slipping on his own jeans, not bothering with the fastenings. 

Was it petty? Yes. Did he care? No, not one bit. Wade had spent years — maybe even decades — ogling his bare skin at every chance he got; it was Logan’s turn. 

He turned his back to Wade, reaching in the minibar for something to steady his shaking hands. They didn’t do this part. Usually Wade would be back in his own bed by now, pretending to be asleep until his breathing finally evened out and the adrenaline crash won. 

But he was already in the bed he’d claimed last night and it was barely eight o’clock. The sun wasn’t even fully set yet. What the fuck we’re they supposed to do now?

He tossed back the first mini bottle he reached — something clear and high proof — then grabbed two glasses off the sideboard and poured a double shot of whiskey for himself and a gin and tonic for Wade. He didn’t know if he still liked them, but he’d told Logan once he liked ordering them because it made him feel like a fancy British asshole, or James Bond. (Logan thought that distinction was redundant). 

He handed the drink off, hesitating over whether or not he was supposed to get back into bed. 

Knock knock knock 

He was saved from making the decision by a series of rapid knocks on the door. 

Cops, probably. They had a way of knocking that always gave them away. 

“Stay,” he told Wade, finishing off his drink in one sip, wishing that warm, floaty feeling would stick around for a bit longer. 

“Puppy play usually goes the other way around in our fics, but that’s okay, I’m flexible.”

Logan wasn’t proud of the images those words conjured up in his mind's eye, but at least there were no telepaths around to judge him. 

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. 

He looked through the peephole and saw a short, young woman, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun and a clipboard cradled in one elbow. 

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up a bit (although, Wade had probably done a number on it already, he realized halfway through). 

He opened the door, not quite wide enough to see inside the room, but enough that it didn’t look like he was trying to hide anything other than the naked bedmate he’d obviously just left behind. 

He leaned against the door jamb and put on an expression that aimed for confused, concerned, and just a little bit annoyed. 

He pretended not to notice the way her eyes raked over his naked torso, still flushed and a little sweaty, lingering a few seconds too long where his jeans were still unbuttoned and unzipped, hanging onto his hips by a whisper and a prayer. 

She swallowed audibly, eyes snapping up to Logan’s face, finally.

“Good evening, Mr…” 

“Is something going on? Do we need to evacuate?” He asked, talking over the end of her sentence and avoiding the implied question of his name. 

“No, nothing like that, don’t worry,” she reassured in the tone of someone well trained in deescalation. He figured that probably came more with her sex than her badge considering most of the cops he knew were specifically good at the direct opposite. Probably a middle child. 

“There was some criminal activity a few blocks away, about half an hour ago. We’re just canvassing the area in the off chance anyone noticed anything suspicious. Don’t suppose you did?”

He ran a hand through his hair sheepishly, glancing guiltily behind himself. 

“I uh, can’t say I have. Been a little busy.” 

She blushed, registering the implication, but continued to try her luck. 

“No one else saw anything? Maybe heard a weird noise or a car speeding away?”

Logan shook his head and frowned like he was actually sorry he couldn’t be more helpful. 

“No, sorry. It’s uh, been a bit loud in here. Didn’t notice anything outside.”

She frowned, disappointed but unfortunately not deterred. She tried again. 

“Could I possibly speak to your partner? Just in case she noticed something you didn’t?”

He heard Wade mutter “rude” behind him but luckily it was quiet enough the cop didn’t. 

He chuckled and shifted in the doorway, folding his arms over his chest in a shy-ish gesture that also drew her eyes to the bulge of his biceps.  

“Do you have to?” He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “It’s just, you kinda interrupted something…involved.”

He watched the blush spread under her collar, the way she nearly dropped her clipboard, and took a gamble. 

“I mean, if it’s really important I guess you can come in and ask for yourself, if you promise to close your eyes. He’s a little shy.”

“I will fucking skin you,” Wade hissed, but the officer had already clicked her pen closed (after nearly dropping it twice) and was taking a step back, just like Logan thought she would.

Flustered and scandalized, getting another “no” to her questions apparently wasn’t worth the trouble. He was glad he judged that right. He had absolutely no doubt that Wade would’ve made good on his threat if he hadn’t.

“No, no, that’s fine. I’m sorry to disturb your evening. If you think of anything, please don’t hesitate to let us know.” She fumbled with her business card, practically throwing it at him before walking hurriedly away. 

He dropped the card in the trash and slid the deadbolt back into place. 

“You’re such a fucking slut,” Wade said as soon as the door closed. 

Logan raised one shoulder, walking back to the foot of the bed. 

“It works. Or did you wanna give a statement on the record?”

Wade had that look in his eyes again — the hungry, predatory gaze that made Logan feel flayed open and put on display, like he was being sized up for a feast. 

“Oh I’m not knocking it, babygirl. You gotta play to your strengths. I have a similar strategy where I open the door the same way, but it ends with the other party scampering off screaming instead of soaking wet.”

Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Mmhmm. Sure that’s not just after you open your mouth?” Logan asked, stalking to the foot of the bed. He trailed his fingers across Wade’s bare ankle, tracing indistinguishable paths that made him twitch, but he didn’t try to pull away. 

“You got somethin’ bad to say about my mouth?” Wade goaded, pink tongue darting out between his parted lips. 

“Yeah,” Logan said, heart racing in his chest, libido taking over for his brain for the second time that night. He tightened his fingers around Wade’s ankle and yanked, pulling him down into the center of the bed. “It’s empty.”

He hesitated, just a second, looking for any sign from Wade to back off. 

“Well? You gonna stand there all night complaining or you gonna do something about it?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: June

Laura

“Okay, prepare yourself for the Best. Idea. Ever,” Ellie announced, sliding into the booth next to Gabby. They were having lunch a Top Secret meeting to discuss what had now been dubbed “Operation Poolverine” — a name Laura absolutely despised, but had been outvoted on.   

“I’m leaving for Arizona on Monday and I’m gonna be gone for a whoooooole week,” she reminded them as she sprinkled an alarming amount of red pepper flakes onto her pizza. “That means it’s the perfect opportunity to get our dads together outside of stupid, boring work.”

“But how’re we gonna do that?” Gabby asked, reaching for the pepper shaker as soon as Ellie was done with it, copying her lead. “They only hang out cuz we’re there.”

Laura bit her tongue. She was starting to suspect their efforts were a waste of time. Not because they weren’t working, but because she was like 83% positive there was already something going on between Wade and her dad — either some kind of friends-with-benefits situation or just regular dating that they were keeping secret until they decided if it was serious enough to go public. (A month ago she might’ve added hatefucking at the top of the list of possibilities, but they didn’t actually act like they hated each other anymore). 

She didn’t want to think too hard about it because, ewwww, but she’d seen the way they looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. It was cute, and kinda pathetic in a clueless, lonely old man sort of way. She didn’t have any solid proof (yet), but the signs were there.

Either way, they didn’t need help making excuses to see each other — her dad had never gone on this many missions voluntarily, at least not since she’d known him. She knew he used to be a workaholic, she’d heard the stories, but ever since she and Gabby came along he’d cut back to dire emergencies only. He’d started dipping his toes back in after she turned sixteen and asked to go on missions herself, but that’d still only been to take her out and show her the ropes. Now he was gone almost every week, especially since school let out. 

She didn’t mind; it was nice to have a little more freedom and independence from his mother hen-ing, and it felt good that he trusted her enough to look after herself and Gabby, and that Wade trusted her to look after Ellie, but it was suspicious. 

But the girls were having fun playing matchmaker and she wasn’t about to explain the intricacies of FWBs to a pair of eight year olds, so she went along with it. If for no other reason than to see how long it took for her dad and Wade to figure it out.

Ellie held her hands out wide, introducing her idea to the table. 

“Operation: Cheer Up.”

Laura groaned, head thunking against the back of her booth. 

“Another one?”

“Yeah but this is like an operation inside an operation. It’s meta,” Ellie explained, tone and hand gesture obviously imitating her dad. 

Laura rolled her eyes. 

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“Yu-huh.”

Gabby reached across the table and put her (concerningly sticky) hand over Laura’s mouth before she could respond with something equally as eloquent, like “nuh-uh.”

“Ignore her,” she instructed her friend, turning fully in her seat and narrowly avoiding getting pizza grease on the sleeve of her yellow shirt. “What’s the plan?”

Gabby

“Whatcha working on, scout?” Her dad asked, reading over her shoulder. She had written the words super big so he'd have to notice them and had been sitting in the same place pretending to write for the last half hour. 

Covert ops were exhausting. 

“It’s my mission while Ellie’s away,” she explained, just like they’d rehearsed. 

“Operation: Cheer Up? You’re really gonna miss her, huh?” He asked, frowning down at her sympathetically. 

“Yeah, but it’s not for me. It’s for Mr. Wade. He gets really sad when she’s gone so we came up with a plan since he’s got us now to keep him from getting lonely.”

Her dad ruffled her hair and planted a kiss on the top of her head while she tried to wiggle away.

“That’s really sweet of ya, punkin, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Laura had figured he’d say something like that. That was fine; she was prepared. She screwed her face up into the sad, confused pout she and Ellie had practiced, just in case. 

“You wouldn’t be sad if I went away for a whole week?” 

The way his face crumpled told her she’d gotten it right. 

Gotcha

“‘Course I would,” her dad rushed to reassure her, walking right into her trap. 

“So you’ll help?”

He hesitated and she stared up at him with wide eyes, doing her best impression of a puppy dog begging for scraps. 

Come on come on come on

He sighed. 

Yes!

“What do you need me to do?” He asked, resigned, worn down by her superb double agent skills. 

Excellent. It was alllllll coming together. 

Logan

The gist of Operation: Cheer Up was essentially to leave Wade with as little free time as possible while Ellie was in Arizona visiting family. Logan wasn’t sold on the actual need for their mission — Wade was a big boy, he could keep himself entertained for a week — but it was sweet and he couldn’t bring himself to say no to the two of them, especially since Ellie might take it to mean that her dad wouldn’t be sad about her being gone, and he knew that wasn’t true. 

So instead, he was hosting a top secret dinner meeting to flesh out the details of their “plan” two days before Ellie was scheduled to leave. 

“Aren’t there some bad guys you could take him to beat up? That would cheer him up! He’s always in a good mood when he comes home from missions,” Ellie suggested, spaghetti hanging onto her fork for dear life as she flailed around wildly. Logan subtly slid a napkin under her elbow. 

He ignored the warm, tight feeling in his chest. Probably heartburn from all the tomato sauce. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

There were always bad guys to beat up somewhere. He could make that happen

“He likes other stuff too y’know, like movies and ice cream and all sorts of stuff that’s not beating up bad guys. You should probably do some of that too. I made a list.” She took a piece of notebook paper out of her pocket and slid it across the table to him, smudging the corner red with sauce. 

“Oh! And make sure he eats. Sometimes he forgets. Mexican is his favorite,” she added, sounding like she was handing off Wade to a pet sitter. 

He tried not to laugh. 

“Got it,” he answered, like he didn’t already know that. He was pretty sure everyone who’d ever met the man knew that. She didn’t add that he preferred the authentic, but trashy food truck variety, but would settle for lesser options based on availability. Or that he didn't actually like chimichangas that much, he just loved the “mouth feel” of the word. (He told Logan one night as they tried desperately to drink away a mission gone wrong over way too many pitchers of watered down margaritas and plates of nachos). Or that he only liked the doughnuts with filling (probably for the vulgar joke value alone), and he wouldn’t eat a burger if it had a pickle on it, even if said pickle had been taken off and eaten by someone else. Or that he loved Ben & Jerry’s, but considered peanut butter in ice cream a cardinal sin unless it was in the form of a Reese’s cup.

“And pizza! He loves pizza,” she told him, neglecting to add that his favorite was olive and pineapple with a crust just this side of burnt. 

It wasn’t weird that he knew all of that. Wade was an avid lover of food. He talked about it a lot. Logan tried to ignore most of the shit that came out of his mouth but it was inevitable that some of it stuck. That was just simple statistics. He couldn’t help what his malfunctioning brain chose to remember. 

“I think we can manage,” he assured her. She beamed at him and went back to happily munching away at her food while answering all of Gabby’s questions about what Arizona was like. 

“Got anything up north?” 

This summer was threatening to be one of the warmest on record. Logan was already sick of it and it was only June. He didn’t really mind the weather itself that much, but Wade was insufferable when the temperature jumped above eighty. (To be fair, his suit was not made for warm weather use and Logan would probably be a whiny bitch too if he had to wear a full mask while fighting and sweating his balls off). He’d bitched the entire trip last week when they had to pop down to Georgia and Logan wasn’t trying to deal with that again any time soon if he could help it. 

“Are you looking to do some actual work or just punch things?” Scott asked, typing away on the laptop in front of him. 

Logan leaned back in his chair, boots propped up on Scott’s unnecessarily fancy desk, and folded his hands over his stomach. 

“What do you think?” 

Scott sighed. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate the newfound work ethic, because I do, but you do know we have trainees for this stuff, right? It doesn’t have to be you.”

Logan shrugged; he’d been hoping to avoid this conversation. 

“We all gotta do our part.”

Scott closed the top of his laptop to give Logan his signature “you’re being stupid so I’ll go real slow” look. 

“If anyone’s done their fair share Logan, it’s you. More than.”

“You got a problem with me goin’ on missions?” He asked, knowing even as he said it that his tone was unnecessarily defensive. 

Scott huffed. 

“Of course not. I just don’t want to watch you run yourself into the ground.”

The “again” hung in the air between them, unspoken but heavily implied. Logan could’ve appreciated the sentiment, if he’d ever acted like he gave a damn in the past. Scott had always been more than happy to add to Logan’s ever growing pile of jobs, never batted an eye unless Logan stretching himself too thin ended up costing them a mission or making Scott or the X-Men look bad. 

He didn’t hold a grudge – he wouldn’t’ve stopped back then with or without encouragement – but the hypocrisy was a bit much. Especially because he didn’t believe for a second that Scott’s problem had anything to do with how much he was working, but instead had everything to do with who he was working with.  

“M’not burnin’ myself out on barely one a week, but thanks for your concern,” he replied, sarcastically. And yeah, he was taking on more jobs than he had since he’d moved back into the mansion, but it wasn’t like it was out of the blue. He’d been steadily increasing his workload a little bit more each year, especially since Laura started asking to go out into the field. It was nowhere near the numbers he used to pull when he was juggling a handful of different teams, trying to outrun the demons on his heels. 

What he was doing now might not be healthy, but it certainly wasn’t because he was burning himself out. 

And it was none of Scott’s business, regardless. 

“Fine, you know your own limits. Speaking of, if you need help, we can find you a better partner than Deadpool. There’s a list a mile long of people who want to work with you. God knows why.” 

Ah, there it is. He’d been expecting it, but the words still made him frown, eyebrows drawing inward, deepening his glare. 

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

His boots hit the floor with a loud thunk as he sat up.

“That you’re terrible at taking direction,” Scott answered without missing a beat, starting to count off Logan’s flaws on his fingers, “and communication, and teamwork in general, and—”

Logan cut him off. 

“No, not that part,” he knew all of that. “What you said about Deadpool. The fuck is that about?”

He knew what it was about, but he wanted to make Scott say it. 

“I would’ve thought that was self-explanatory. I know Gabby’s close with his kid so you’ve been letting him tag along, but it’s getting a bit excessive don’t you think? Can’t say I’m not impressed at your restraint. It’s been what, two months now?” He paused like he expected Logan to confirm. Logan stared ahead blankly, mouth firmly shut. 

“What are you going to do? Just let him keep taking advantage of the situation until they graduate?” 

Logan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“He’s not taking advantage of anything. I ask him to come along, every damn time. He’s not vying for a job.”

Scott huffed, disbelieving. 

“Sure he’s not.”

That smarmy look right there— that’s the one that made his face so punchable. 

“I’m serious. ‘Sides, jobs’re getting done, what’s it matter who’s doing ‘em?”

“The optics—”

“Oh fuck off. I haven’t picked up a single public facing job this year.” He purposefully avoided them if he could, regardless of whether he was solo or not. 

“Okay, but you know what he’s like,” Scott continued, like he and Logan were on the same side of this conversation. They most definitely were not. 

“Yeah, I do. You don’t. How would you? You barely even know what he used to be like.” 

Scott opened his mouth to respond but Logan cut him off. 

“What’s the longest you’ve spent in a room with him? An hour? Two, tops? The fuck do you think you know about him?” 

He was getting loud; he could hear it, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He needed to reel it in before Scott started connecting dots that Logan really didn’t want connected, but objectivity had never been his strong suit. Or deescalation. 

“I know enough. I know that he’s manipulative, and reckless, and that his antics usually come with collateral damage. He’s a liability, Logan.”

“What collateral damage have you seen recently? None from fucking us.” 

They’d racked up a higher body count than Scott wanted, sure, but none of it was collateral. Wade was liberal with his violence, but not indiscriminate. He never had been. Logan on the other hand… there was an argument to be made there, for sure, but Scott wasn’t talking about that. 

(Hell, if they really wanted to compare numbers he would put money on the Avengers for highest cost in collateral damage, lives and infrastructure). 

“Come on, this is Deadpool we’re talking about. His reputation speaks for itself.”

“Our records ain’t exactly spotless, are they?” 

Wade had plenty of flaws, he wasn’t arguing that, but it was hypocritical for Scott to sit there and act like he had any sort of moral high ground over him. They’d all done things they weren’t proud of – for money, for love, for the greater good (whatever the fuck that meant) – and the reason behind it didn’t make the people suffering for it suffer any less. Life wasn’t black and white like that. 

As much as Scott wanted it to be. 

“That’s different.”

“Bullshit. It’s different cuz there’s an X on our shirts and not one on his. That’s the only reason and you know it,” Logan spit back.  

“He’s a mercenary.”

“He’s retired.”

Scott threw his hands up, exasperated, then ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands. 

“Do you hear yourself right now?” Logan clenched his jaw and said nothing. “Never thought I’d see the day when you’d sit here defending Deadpool.”

“You got a point to make, bub, or’r you just tryna piss me off?” This conversation was going nowhere and Logan knew from experience that they were going to keep going around in circles until one of them put an end to it. 

He was trying to do it in a more civil way than he usually did this time. 

Scott sighed heavily.  

“I was just reminding you there are other options available, should you come to your senses.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, sarcastically. 

“Logan–”

“You forbiddin’ me from outsourcing?” Logan challenged, knowing he wasn’t stupid enough to try. 

Scott sighed again, clearly as over this conversation as Logan was. He hadn’t gone in there looking for a fight. Shoulda known better. 

“Of course not. We both know how that would go.”

“Great.” Logan stood up to leave. “Thanks for the chat.”

He didn't slam the door behind him when he stormed out. He was considering that growth. 

The conversation with Scott pissed him off for several reasons, most of which he didn’t want to deal with, so he made a few calls to some old acquaintances north of the border, unpacked his blue and yellow getup and replaced it with some old gear; something a little less official that didn’t have a logo on it. 

In a few days they’d both cool down and Logan would go right back to picking up jobs for him and Wade, and Scott would continue to hand them out with only minor passive aggressive comments. It was how they operated, him and Scott: functionally dysfunctional. Until then, he’d enjoy the short break from writing up mission reports.

“Not gonna lie Lo, I’m feeling a little redundant here.”

The drug smuggling ring they were hired to “disrupt” had turned out to be much smaller than his contact had estimated. Twenty well-armed, but poorly trained goons were barely enough for Logan to break a sweat; Deadpool was just plain overkill. 

Logan shrugged, apologetic. 

“Your kid thought you’d be bored on your own this week. Made me promise t’find some bad guys for you to shoot. Don’t be picky, y’get whacha get.”

Wade turned his entire body to face Logan so he could stare at him. 

“What?” Logan asked after he finished knocking out a middle-aged man fumbling with his gun who couldn’t’ve weighed more than a buck fifty soaking wet. 

He almost felt bad about it, but he’d kept the claws in at least. 

“Are you serious?”

Logan lifted one shoulder. 

“Well, she said I had to find you some bad guys, the shooting part was implied.”

Two wannabe Al Capone’s came running at them from behind, clearly hoping to catch them off guard. 

Wade swung his sword in a wide arc, eviscerating both in one efficient slice. 

“That works too.”

Logan swallowed hard and tried to remind himself that shouldn’t be hot. 

“So this is off the books?” Wade asked, wiping his sword off on one of the guys' shirts. The man screamed and tried to crawl away, clutching at his stomach, trying to keep his guts from spilling out all over the dirty concrete.  

“It’s on somebody’s books, just not the X-Men’s,” Logan explained. He didn’t want to get into the intricacies of the vast network of shadow agencies and shell corporations his contact worked for. He wasn’t actually sure who, or what, sanctioned their trip, just that it was, in fact, sanctioned. Didn’t even need Kurt to sneak them over the border. 

Wade laughed, movements loose and seemingly reckless, though Logan knew better. 

“Freelancing busy work? Ha! What’d Laser Eyes do to piss you off this time?”

Logan bristled at the implication, annoyed at being so predictable. 

“S’not important,” he deflected. Wade already knew Scott’s opinion of him, he didn’t need to hear a rehashing of the details. 

Wade shrugged it off, letting an issue drop for once, more interested in the answer to his next question.

“Does that mean I get to break the rules?” He asked, masked face lighting up at the possibilities. Logan was almost glad Scott had chosen this week to be a dick about their arrangement, otherwise he wouldn’t’ve been able to give the answer he did. 

“What rules?”

Wade absolutely squealed with delight, jumping and clapping his hands, dodging a hastily shot spray of bullets that’d been hoping to take advantage of their being distracted. 

These people had obviously never heard of Deadpool. Distracted was his natural state of being. If he was focused, you were already dead. 

Logan started forward but Wade stopped him with the point of his sword against his sternum. 

“I’ve got this pookie, you go have a little sit down. Give your old man bones a rest.”

Logan glared, but it had long since lost its bite.

“Y’sure?”

“Pweddy pweeese? There’s only twelve left.”

Logan could hear the pout in his voice. It made him laugh under his breath and he held up his hands in surrender. 

“All yours, bub.”

Wade was positively glowing by the time they made it to the hotel room. Adrenaline and endorphins swirling around with his particular brand of crazy putting him in a cheerful, sing-songy mood that Logan couldn’t even be annoyed at because that’d been the whole point, hadn’t it? 

He let Logan have the first shower (even though his body was covered in sweat and viscera whereas Logan had barely gotten a drop of blood on him), citing a need to “come down” a bit before he could manage standing still enough to wash.

It was on the tip of his tongue to offer a hand with that – either the washing or burning off the adrenaline – but Logan managed to swallow down the words before they could tumble out. 

After the shower, he went through his nightly routine of checking in at home while Wade cleaned up. He and Wade usually called together now since Ellie stayed at the mansion when he was away and she and Gabby were practically glued to each other’s sides, but Wade had already talked to Ellie before his shower, aiming to catch her before dinner since she was a couple hours behind them. 

Gabby answered his call immediately, as if she’d been waiting by the phone. 

“Hey kiddo.”

“How’s the mission going?” She asked, without even acknowledging his greeting. He thought that was strange, since she didn’t usually care for the details like Ellie did (it was still new for her, whereas it was old news, and therefore boring, to Gabby), but he answered her anyway, keeping it vague. 

“It went fine. We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”

“Not that one, the other one.” 

“Ah, gotcha.” That makes more sense. She wanted to know how her mission was going.  “Everything’s solid on that front,” he told her, picturing Wade’s bright, satisfied smile on the drive to the hotel. 

“Good job. Don’t forget about phase two.”

“Phase Two. Right. Got it.” He nodded, trying to remember what exactly phase two had been. 

“You forgot about Phase Two, didn’t you?”

“No, ‘course not; but you wanna run it by me one more time just to be sure I didn’t miss anything?”

He heard her sigh heavily into the receiver. 

“You’re s’posed to make sure he comes to lunch tomorrow.”

“Can do,” he promised. That was easy. He’d picked Wade up, so he didn’t really have a choice if Logan just drove them back to the mansion instead of dropping him off. 

“Don’t forget! We’re counting on you.” She truly was a master at the guilt trip.  

“I won’t let you down, boss,” he replied, indulging her. As much as he didn’t want her to go into the family business, he had to admit she was gonna be good at it. Watching her and Ellie plot and plan was making him wish time would move slower for the first time in his life. She was growing up so fast. 

“Alright now, that’s enough mission planning for one night. It’s bedtime.”

“Fiiiine. Love you, daddy.”

“Love you too, punkin. Sweet dreams.”

Logan turned around to find Wade sitting on his bed, frowning at the floor. 

“What’s with the face?”

“Oh my god Karen, you can’t just ask people why their face is the way it is,” he replied, some obvious reference that Logan didn’t get. He ignored it and just kept staring, unimpressed with the deflection, until he cracked. 

“Am I a bad parent? Wait! Don’t answer that. Okay, answer it. Tell me the truth, I can take it.”

“Wade—”

“Shut up, I lied,” he interrupted before Logan could say anything. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t take it. Lie to me instead.”

“What the fuck are you freaking out about?”

“That,” he gestured to where Logan had dropped his cell phone near his bag. “Your “mission.” Ellie’s supposed to be off having fun, not worrying about me. I’ve tried so hard to not let her see how much I hate letting her go out there, but I’ve obviously fucking failed at that.” 

“Cut yourself some slack. She’s an observant kid and she cares about you. There are worse things.”

“I’m supposed to be taking care of her, not the other way around,” Wade argued, sounding like it wasn’t the first time he’d uttered that sentence. 

“Or,” Logan countered, “you take care of each other, because that’s what you do for the people you love. She’s gonna have fun this week so she wants you to as well. Simple as that. Doesn’t make you a bad parent cuz your kid gives a shit about you.”

Wade flopped back on the bed. 

“Parenting is exhausting,” he lamented. 

Logan chuckled. 

“Good parenting is exhausting. Wouldn’t be nearly as much work if you didn’t care,” he reminded him. Of all the things that could be said about Wade — and there were a lot — that he was a bad parent wasn’t one of them. 

Logan had seen a lot worse, had been a lot worse. As far as he was concerned, Wade was killing it. 

“Ugghh stop being nice to me, it’s weird,” Wade pretended to complain. 

“You’re really not gonna like what I had planned next then.”

Wade popped his head up. 

“Oh?”

“You got a choice: you can either spend the rest of the night moping, or you can let me do my job and distract you. S’up to you.” Logan put his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side, raking his eyes across Wade’s body, letting his intentions show. 

He could see the moment Wade realized what “distracting” might entail. He sat up on his elbows. 

“I dunno peanut, I’m pretty distraught. What could you possibly do to take my mind off things?”

Logan took his shirt off. 

He tried not to look too smug about the sharp intake of breath it elicited. 

“Yeah, okay, that helps.” He sounded out of breath already and they hadn’t even gotten started yet.

Logan slipped his pants off next, his body starting to react to Wade’s undivided attention, especially the little inadvertent whimper he let out when the pants slid past his hips. 

“Yep, that’ll do it.”

Logan chuckled low and soft, something tightening behind his ribs at the openly hungry look of desire on Wade’s face. 

It’d only happened a few times so far, but Logan relished the moments when the mask slipped, when he was as easy to read as a picture book, (and just as pretty to look at).  

He was always wearing a mask of some kind, so each time he let it fall felt like something precious, a secret treasure for his eyes only. He collected them, hoarding them and keeping them close to his chest like a dragon protecting his shiny trinkets from unwanted hands. 

This Wade was for him, and him alone. 

He put a knee on the bed and Wade spread his legs to make space for him, hands immediately going for Logan’s chest. 

The man was obsessed with his pecs. 

(Not that Logan was complaining…) 

As soon as he started working on the other’s clothes, Wade reached for the little button on the headboard that turned the side lamps off so there was only a faint glow from the bathroom light, a habit borne out of insecurity, Logan assumed. But there was that small part of his brain that liked to torture him that suggested maybe it wasn’t just an automatic reflex. Maybe there was someone else he’d rather be seeing kneeling between his legs. 

The thought made him stupid and greedy for Wade’s undivided attention. Made him do shit just to hear his own name come out of Wade’s mouth, things he’d never let himself get away with with someone else, things he actively tried not to do with other people. 

Like letting his canines catch Wade’s bottom lip when they kissed. Like leaning into his strength and weight to keep the squirming body beneath him pinned, exactly where Logan wanted him. Or not swallowing down his more animalistic noises — the growls and purrs Wade so effortlessly pulled from his chest with the touch of his hand or press of his mouth. 

All the little unique things that made it impossible for Wade to pretend he was someone else.

But the absolute worst thing it made him do was talk. 

Anytime his mouth wasn't occupied it did its damnedest to make of fool of him, saying things he meant, but didn’t mean to say out loud, things that would’ve had him sneaking away in the middle of the night if a casual fuck had said them to him. He was lucky Wade didn’t seem to really register the words, too distracted by what Logan was doing with his hands to worry about what was coming out of his mouth. 

The solution was simple, really; couldn’t confess his stupid, inconvenient feelings if his mouth was full, could he?   

He made himself comfortable between Wade’s thighs and set about finding new ways to make him moan. 

He knew Wade was enjoying himself, his body was screaming it loud and clear, but his voice had been suspiciously absent for the past few minutes. In fact, aside from a few stuttered curses and muffled moans, he’d been quiet from the start. Logan looked up and immediately found the problem: Wade had his hand pressed against his mouth, teeth embedded just under his thumb, stifling the sounds Logan was working so hard to earn. 

He pulled off, replacing his mouth with his hand before Wade’s body had a chance to complain, and moved up until they were face to face. Logan waited for him to open his eyes then stuck his tongue out, licking the edge of his hand from wrist to pinky, before scraping his teeth over the meatiest part of his palm and clamping down. He gave a gentle tug and Wade let his hand be pulled away and dropped at his side. 

Logan nipped at his bottom lip in punishment, then at the hinge of his jaw and his earlobe. 

“Can’t get ya t’shut you up when I want ya to, but you pick now to go quiet on me?” Logan chastised. 

Wade made a whimpery noise in the back of his throat. 

“S’not gonna work for me, sweetheart. Wanna hear you.” He kissed Wade sloppily, sucking hard on his tongue and feeling the cock in his hand jerk in response. “Nothin’ goes in that pretty mouth that I don’t put in there, got it?”

Wade choked, nodded, then cleared his throat and responded back weakly. 

“Yeh-yep, yes, yeah.”

“There he is. Good boy.” Logan patted his cheek and placed a quick kiss on his lips, before slipping back down his body, chuckling at the breathless “fuck you,” that followed him. 

Despite the halfhearted protest, after the order was given, it was like a dam had burst between Wade’s brain and mouth, a constant stream of words flowing from his mouth as Logan redoubled his efforts under the enthusiastic encouragement. Most of it was nonsense, half-sentences and words that were just a bunch of vowels strung together and various attempts at Logan’s name. 

It was exactly what he’d wanted, made all the better when Wade eventually came with Logan’s name on his lips.  

He’d had barely finished swallowing before his back was hitting the mattress and Wade was falling over himself to reciprocate. 

Logan got up, using the same trick as last time to delay the inevitable, (only this time without a police interrogation). 

He grabbed two beers out of the mini fridge from the six pack they’d picked up on the way in, and snagged a cigar and lighter out of his jacket pocket before climbing back into bed next to Wade, who was sprawled out lazily in the middle of the mattress, chest still heaving from their activities. 

He grinned up at Logan, a soft, lopsided thing, still a little flushed and sex-stupid. Logan wanted to kiss it off his lips. He offered one of the beers instead, and Wade leaned up as if to grab it, moving at the last second to wrap his lips around the cigar instead, stealing it from between Logan’s fingers. His mischievous giggle bounced off the paper-thin walls as he sat back against the headboard with his contraband. 

Logan rolled his eyes and took a sip of his own beer, holding out the lit lighter. 

He waited until Wade leaned forward, off balance, before quickly snapping the lighter closed and snatching his wrist, yanking him around until he was trapped in Logan’s arms, back pressed against Logan’s chest, laughter loud and melodic this close to his ear. He put up a feeble fight before collapsing back against the wall of solid muscle, wiggling around a little until he was comfortably settled. 

Logan handed him his beer and put the cigar back between his lips, lighting it before tossing the lighter in the direction of his discarded clothes. 

They stayed like that for a while, passing the cigar back and forth, enjoying the lazy intimacy until, like usual, Logan had to go and ruin it. 

“What’re you doin’ the rest of the week?”

Wade hummed like he was considering. 

“Wallowing mostly. Maybe some bedrotting, a little doom scrolling, as a treat. Why?”

“You like baseball?”

There was a pause. 

“I like hot dogs and peanuts, peanut. Why?” He looked up at Logan over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the question. 

Logan rolled his eyes at the nickname, avoiding Wade’s suspicious gaze. 

“Takin’ Gabby to a game on Thursday. Got an extra ticket if you wanna tag along. Apparently Laura would rather gouge her eyes out with her toe claws than be subjected to “hours upon hours of burning sunlight and drunk idiots.”” 

This was, in fact, not news to Logan. She’d hated it (and most other non- to minimal-contact sports) her whole life. The ticket was for Wade, and had been since he’d bought it. Two weeks ago. 

“Sounds a wee bit dramatic,” Wade commented, pinching his thumb and forefinger together. 

“Yeah. Dunno where she gets it from,” Logan agreed, pretending not to notice the judgemental look on Wade’s face. 

“It’s a mystery.” He took another sip of his beer then held his hands out, palm up, moving them up and down in opposition. “Hmm, let’s see: pity baseball or bed rotting, it’s a tough choice.”

It was like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head. 

What the fuck am I doing? 

He looked down at Wade, still encircled in his arms – held, some might call it. 

Getting caught up, is what. Forgetting, is what. 

He had to appreciate the subtle, but painful, reminder about what this was — and what it wasn’t — even if it did make his stomach clench unpleasantly. Wade wasn’t looking for companionship from him. Clearly, since the idea of spending time together outside of whatever activities the girls mandated was apparently less appealing than just straight up doing nothing, alone. 

Which was fine. 

He didn’t owe Logan anything. It was remarkable, given their history, that he was letting Logan take as much as he already was. Asking for more was just being greedy. 

Didn’t stop the want from gnawing away at him though. 

“It wasn’t a pity invite, dickhead,” he grumbled, sitting up a little straighter, putting some distance between them physically since he was apparently incapable of doing it mentally.  

“Yeah, sure.”

“Fine, I take it back.” He sat his bottle down a little too harshly and channeled his frustration into stubbing out the remnants of the cigar. It was a meager help. 

“You can’t take back a pity invite, that’s like double depressing,” Wade whined, like he was offended over the thing he’d just insulted. Logan wanted to smack him. 

“It’s not a fuckin’ pity invite.”

“Kinda sounds like a pity invite.”

“Why are you being so fucking difficult about this?” Logan demanded, pissed off at himself for how pissed off he was getting over a stupid baseball game. He should’ve never brought the fucking thing up in the first place. 

Wade tilted his head and grinned, seemingly oblivious to the shift in atmosphere he’d caused. 

“Cuz. Your face goes this pretty shade of red when you’re angry; I wanted to see if it goes all the way down.” 

He raked his eyes down Logan’s chest just like he had earlier, only now instead of lighting a fire, it carved out a pit inside him. Something dark and hollow, that ached to be filled and knew it never would be.  

A surge of unwarranted anger and annoyance, like a muscle memory of how he used to feel when Wade leered at him like that — like he was an object, a box to check, a challenge to conquer — thrummed under his skin for just a second and he had to hold himself back from snarling. 

“I’m gonna fucking gut you,” he said instead, voice meaner than he wanted it to be. 

Wade laughed, blissfully (beautifully) clueless. 

“If you wanna rearrange my guts sweetpea, I can think of a funner way to do it.” His legs spread beneath the sheets provocatively.  

“That’s subjective,” Logan replied automatically, still trying to tame the bloodlust into just lust. 

Wade gasped and slapped a hand to his chest.

"How dare you.”

He hit Logan over the head with his pillow and Logan took the second of hiding to reset. This was what Wade wanted from him, not cuddling or dates or domesticity — just his body. 

(Same thing everyone else wanted, in one way or another.)  

Logan could do that. That was the part he was good at anyway, it was the rest of it he always fucked up.

He tossed the pillow away, recalibrated. 

“Just sayin’, y’can’t make that kinda claim when I only got data for one side of the argument. It’s skewed towards the stabbing.”

Wade licked his lips, quirking an eyebrow. 

“And who’s fault is that? I’ve been offering since we met.”

“You tried to kill me when we met.”

“No, you tried to kill me. I was just matching your energy, baby.”

Logan snorted. 

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“Talk about an unreliable narrator.”

“It’s like you want me to stab you.”

Wade giggled, bending his arm over his head and stretching, pulling the sheets down a couple more inches. 

“Mmmm… rather explore that other dataset if you’re up for it, professor. Y’know, for science.”

Logan leaned over the edge of the bed, hooking his finger into the strap of his bag to drag it over, digging around in the side pocket for the bottle of lube he’d been optimistically carrying around since the first time they’d fooled around. 

He tossed it to Wade, who caught it easily, a smile forming on his lip as he registered what was in his hand. 

“For science.”

As much as he would’ve liked to have Wade on top of him, he couldn’t complain about his current view. His broad shoulders sunk into the plush duvet, putting his back on display, a mosaic of silvery-white and deep mauve scars cutting across a landscape of highly defined muscle, tapering from the base of his ribs to his hips, giving somehow a simultaneous impression of something delicate, yet unbreakable. 

His knees were planted steady on the soft mattress beneath them. Logan spread his hands out over the back of each thigh, squeezing, taking in the sight, the places where there was give — where his thumb made a slight indent in the plush layer of fat right near the top toward the inside — and the places where firm muscle stayed solid underneath his fingertips. 

The slightest direction — a gentle press on the insides of his thighs — had Wade spreading his knees wider, sinking further into an arch than Logan had thought possible. 

Yeah, it was real difficult to feel sorry for himself when he got to have this.

He traced a hand up the curve of Wade’s spine, enjoying the way he pressed into it like a cat asking to be pet. 

Wade felt divine, like everything he had imagined and then some. He struggled to hold himself back, to stay in control and take things slow when his body was screaming at him to take take take. 

He overcorrected at first, being too careful, too slow, old habits making him overly conscious of every way he could mess this up. He didn’t realize how hard he was concentrating on controlling himself – or that it was noticeable – until he was called out on it.

Wade shifted underneath him, craning his neck to brush his lips over the inside of Logan’s wrist where it was planted next to his pillow, garnering his attention. He wrapped his fingers around it and tugged, forcing Logan to shift his weight around to stay balanced, and moved the hand to his back, between his shoulder blades. 

He pressed up into the palm just to make Logan push him back down, and let out a low, satisfied noise when he did. “I’m not a fragile little human you picked up at a bar, Wolvie. You can’t break me, so stop acting like you can and fuck me like I’m me.” 

The demand had a sharp edge to it, those last words fuck me like I’m me in particular, like maybe he needed the same reassurance that Logan had been chasing with the growling and biting and uncontrollable urge to just be himself. 

It was almost laughable, the idea that Logan would be — could be — thinking of anyone else right now when this was all he’d been thinking about for months. 

Not that Wade needed to know that part; he didn’t need to see Logan’s whole hand, but he could show him a card or two. If he needed explicit, Logan could be explicit.

“Healin’ doesn’t mean it hurts less,” he reminded them both. Just because he had his wires crossed didn’t mean he could assume Wade did too. Besides, “pain’s not what I’m aimin’ for here.” 

Wade pressed back, angling his hips a bit differently. 

“Then aim a little lower and to the left,” he instructed, previous edge gone from his voice just as quickly as it’d arrived, replaced by something light and playful instead.  

Logan complied, a little less careful this time, earning him a soft gasp from the body beneath him.

“My left,” Wade corrected. Logan closed his eyes and let his forehead drop to Wade’s shoulder, smiling. 

“So the right.” He huffed out a laugh before repeating his efforts in the opposite direction. 

Whatever smartass remark was about to come out of Wade’s mouth melted into a jumble of syllables instead. 

After that it got easier to let his control slip, in small increments. He still didn’t trust himself to fully let go – probably never would – but his desire to be good for Wade outweighed his fear of being himself.

There was a lot to focus on at once. The technical aspects alone took up most of his brainpower, like was he going too fast? Too slow? Too hard? Not hard enough? But then there was how it felt, the warmth of Wade’s skin against his own, rough in some places but soft as silk in others, slick with sweat that smelled like sex and desire and them. Logan wanted that scent on his sheets every night. (He wanted Wade in his sheets every night, and in the mornings too, but he was trying not to think about that right now). 

Suffice to say it was a lot, so it took him a few minutes to process that Wade had gone quiet again. After a brief moment of panic where he envisioned Wade lying there, bored or uncomfortable or worse, counting the seconds until it was over, his brain cells caught up, recognizing that was not what was happening here. 

He wrapped his fingers around Wade’s jaw, pressing his thumb hard beneath the lip that was turning white for how hard he was chewing on and dragged down until it slipped from between his teeth. A heavy pant escaped and Logan leaned down to kiss his cheek sweetly. 

“What’d I tell you, darlin’? Wanna hear your voice.” He needed those sounds, those words of encouragement, the affirmation that Wade was enjoying himself, that Logan wasn’t getting too rough, taking too much. He needed Wade to talk. 

Wade squeezed his eyes shut.

“Fuck—think I could get off just from hearing you say that.” Based on the way his body had tightened around Logan as he said it, that might not have been that far from the truth. He wondered idly if he could, if Wade was sensitive enough, or could be worked up enough, to be talked through an orgasm.  

Maybe he would try it some time, open him up real slow on his fingers while ignoring his cock, then make him sit in his lap, hands behind his back, or maybe around Logan’s neck, while he told him all the filthy things he fantasized about and watched him grow more desperate by the second.

But not this time.  

“Just that?” Logan sat back up, dragging his hands down Wade’s sides, fingers digging in when he reached his hips, anticipating the way he tried to chase him when Logan started to slowly pull out. 

Wade’s arm shot out, scrambling desperately to find some part of Logan to cling onto to keep him from going any further. 

“Nonononono don’t- fuck don’t stop please— I meant later—to the memory of it. Need you now.” Wade’s voice trailed off with a whine, making that place behind Logan’s ribs ache. 

He slid back into place, draping himself over Wade’s body and earning an immediate pleased sigh as Wade’s hand found his, intertwining their fingers as if telling him not to do that again.  

“You’ve got me,” he replied, a little too sincerely, against Wade’s throat. 

It didn’t last much longer after that. Wade’s refusal to let him go meant his thrusts lost some momentum, which he made up for with deep, grinding motions that Wade really seemed to like. Which was a problem for Logan’s stamina. 

Wade reached up with the hand not holding Logan’s and tangled his fingers in Logan’s hair, grip tightening every time he did something that felt particularly good, coupling it with praises that threatened to push Logan over the edge. 

“Fuck Lo, that’s–fuck– just like that, baby…god that’s perfect-you’re perfect…yes!-fuck-bite me. Sink those pretty canines into me…come on…” He guided Logan’s mouth to his shoulder, begging, clueless of how he was ruining Logan for anybody else. His fangs ached with the desire to follow those orders, but he still held back, open mouth practically drooling against the textured flesh in front of it. “Please Wolvie? I want it…can’t stop-fuck-thinking about it…pleasepleasepleaseyes!”

How was he supposed to say no to that? 

He bit down as gently as he could manage, given the circumstances, and the response was immediate and intoxicating. Wade’s fingers tightened in his hair, lighting up every single one of Logan’s nerve endings. His body arched, pressing them as close as physically possible. 

“Harderharder please… I’m so–” his pleas cut off with a gasp, followed by a loud moan as he came seconds after Logan gave in and sunk his teeth in hard enough to bruise (but by some miracle not hard enough to make him bleed). Logan was quick to follow, burying himself as deep as he could go, leaving no space between them, clutching at the hand in his, breathing in lungfuls of his scent, letting Wade overwhelm him in every way possible. 

He didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to move, but he could sense Wade growing restless beneath him and he really should clean up before things started to dry. 

He pulled back slowly, shushing Wade’s whines and placing a kiss behind his ear, figuring they were still in that gray area where something like that was allowed. He gave himself a quick, cursory clean up, coming back to find Wade in exactly the same position as when he’d left. 

He smiled to himself and knelt on the bed, bringing a warm rag to the inside of Wade’s thigh. He jolted at the initial touch, but settled back down under Logan’s gentle ministrations. He pulled at Wade’s shoulder to roll him over, thankful he kept his eyes closed so he couldn’t see the no doubt sickeningly smitten look on Logan’s face. He was too tired and too satisfied to bother hiding it. 

He tossed the rag on the bathroom floor when he was done and got up to move to the other bed now that they’d made a mess of this one. 

Wade rolled over again and groaned, wrinkling his nose. 

“Strategic choice on your part, fucking in my bed and leaving me with the wet spot.”

Logan rolled his eyes. Idiot. 

“Get up.” He motioned for Wade to stop rolling around in the soiled sheets and come over to the clean bed. 

Wade tilted his head back dramatically, sighing. 

“No, no, you don't have to martyr yourself on the altar of the cum gods for me, I’ve slept on worse.”

Logan made a face. 

“First of all, gross, second, I’m not martyring myself on shit, come over here.” He turned back around to continue untucking the comforter, expecting Wade to get up. 

He didn’t. 

“Oh, uh, you don’t have to–”

For fuck’s sake.

“I just had my dick inside you, but sharing a bed’s where you draw the line?” Logan snapped, sick to death of navigating the landmines of their arrangement. He just wanted to go to sleep, preferably next to the man he’d just fucked. 

“What if it was?” Wade asked, defensively. Logan just sighed. This wasn’t a hill he was willing to die on, if Wade wanted to sleep in wet sheets he was more than welcome to. 

“Whatever. Enjoy your dirty sheets.”

He’d barely finished pulling the covers back before Wade was shouldering past him, sliding into the bed before him. 

“That was a hypothetical; I have no lines.” He wiggled around, making himself comfortable like a finicky lapdog before finally settling and looking up at Logan with bright, wide eyes. “What’re you waiting for? It’s bedtime.” 

Logan shook his head, laughing, and crawled into bed. 

Wade had planted himself not quite in the middle, but close enough that when Logan laid down they were almost touching. A few minutes of shifting and settling into the natural inclination of the bed and they were. 

Neither of them acknowledged it when Wade slipped his arm under Logan’s pillow, or when Logan hooked his leg over Wade’s thigh. 

It was still a gray area. Probably. 

Logan had just started to drift off when Wade’s voice pulled him back from the brink of sleep, the vibration of it rumbling under his ear. 

“So…” 

Logan made a questioning noise, unsure if he wanted to hear what was coming next but too tired to fight about it. 

“Scientific results: more fun than stabbing?”

Logan’s breath escaped his nose in a huffed laugh. Of course that’s what he was thinking about. Logan hummed, stalling, even though he knew his answer. 

Given the choice, he would one-hundred percent choose fucking Wade over stabbing him. 

Why not both? His treacherous mind suggested.  

He cut off that line of thought before he could start imagining it — especially now that his body knew what Wade felt like around his cock as well as his claws. 

“Further research is needed,” he teased optimistically, butting the underside of Wade’s chin with the top of his head. “I’ll let you know.”

There was a brief pause and he could hear as well as feel Wade’s pulse quicken. 

“Of course,” he finally said, allowing Logan to breathe again. “Gotta be thorough. For science.”

“For science,” Logan mumbled, rubbing his cheek absentmindedly across Wade’s collarbone, already halfway back to sleep. 

He couldn’t be sure if it was real or if he’d dreamed it, but he could’ve sworn he felt Wade’s fingers in his hair, petting him.

Wade

They were getting so good at this, the whole coworkers-who-fuck-and-occasionally-cuddle-now-also-and-sleep-in-the-same-bed-and-are-totally-chill-about-it thing. Last night he was marking items off his bucket list that’d been there for a quarter of a century and this morning he was sitting in a truck, eating fast food breakfast tacos, arguing about radio stations like everything was normal. Because it was. This was his new normal, apparently. 

What a fucking time to be alive. 

At least he was going back to an empty house so he could have a proper mental breakdown about it later without worrying the kid. 

He just had to make it through the rest of the drive without doing something stupid like accidentally holding Logan’s hand, or begging to be fucked again, or confessing his love for the man in the driver’s seat, smoking a cigar at ten thirty in the morning and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, especially not anxiety (but also not regret, which Wade took as a good sign). 

Super easy. He could totally manage that. 

By the time they made it to the border Wade was ready to combust. It was, in fact, not super easy to keep himself in check when Logan kept doing things that made Wade want to kiss him. Just looking over at him in that stupid cowboy hat, driving with one hand on the wheel and one hanging out the window, the stupid sleeves of his stupid tee shirt bulging at the seams where they tried valiantly to contain his biceps, made Wade want to lean across the seat and break a few traffic laws. 

He had to literally sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching, and he could only manage that for about an hour or so before he started getting restless and had to start fucking around with the radio instead. And to top it all off, when Logan noticed (because of course he fucking noticed) he didn’t do the normal, natural thing and threaten to cut Wade’s hands off if he didn’t knock it off. 

Nope. 

Wade thought he was just going to power through ignoring it, but instead he did something so, so much worse. They pulled into a gas station and he disappeared into the attached convenience store after barking at Wade to fill up the tank. Wade assumed he’d gone to take a piss and thought no more of it, until they got back on the highway and he reached for the radio again only to have his hand slapped away and something tossed into his lap. 

He looked down and found a jumble of metal – one of those puzzles where you have to figure out how to pull them all apart. He looked over at Logan, whose eyes had never left the road. 

“Stop touching the fucking radio,” he said gruffly, turning it back to his old man music station. 

It did not make the urge to kiss him go away, but it did help to distract Wade enough that he didn’t give into it. 

An hour later, when he’d held up his solved puzzle triumphantly and reached for the radio knob as a reward, his hand was promptly smacked away again and another puzzle shoved into it, this one wooden instead of metal. 

He laughed, dropping the solved one into the cupholder and immediately setting to work on the new one. 

By the time they made it back to the mansion Wade was forty percent of the way through solving a mini rubik's cube that came as a little keychain. He had plans to sneak it onto Logan’s keys when he wasn’t looking. As soon as he solved the fucker. 

He was so focused that he didn’t realize they’d stopped until Logan cut the engine and turned in his seat to speak. 

“You wanna stay for a bit? Laura ordered pizza,” he asked, holding up a hand as Wade opened his mouth to reply, realizing belatedly that he was supposed to've been dropped off at his house instead of coming back to Logan's. “Before you answer I should tell you, you’re not actually allowed to say no.”

Wade raised his brow. 

“Oh yeah?”

Logan nodded, mock-seriously. 

“Yeah. Otherwise I’ll have to report mission failure to my superiors, and I can’t have that kinda thing on my record.”

Wade pressed his lips together to try to keep the laughter in, while nodding along. 

“Of course, of course. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with the bosses because of little ol’ me.”

A look flashed across Logan’s face, for just a fraction of a second, and it made him remember what he’d said about their little trip across the border being off the books and how Wade’s question about Scott had been brushed off. 

We’re messing things up.

We always mess things up. 

He kept the smile plastered on his face and pushed those thoughts down for later. He’d be spiraling anyway, why not add worrying about ruining Logan’s life to the list as well? 

“Pizza, you say?”

Luckily, Logan didn’t seem to notice the change, or if he did, he was as willing to ignore it as Wade was.  

“Yeah. And an abomination with pineapple and olives that no one else is gonna touch so you better not let it go to waste.”

Wade narrowed his eyes. 

There’s no way he remembered that. 

“How…?” 

“Ellie told us,” he said, avoiding Wade’s scrutinizing stare. 

She absolutely did not. 

Ellie hated olives. He hadn’t eaten pizza with them on it in years — not since that time she’d thrown up all over his plate after smelling them. 

“I’m contractually obligated to make sure you eat this week,” Logan continued, giving him something else to focus on instead of calling him out on the lie, even though he kinda wanted to.

“You are not.”

Logan nodded again. 

“I am a grown ass adult,” Wade exclaimed. He had the urge to stomp his foot and was glad they were in a confined space, otherwise the move might’ve undermined the sentiment.

“Who forgets to eat if there’s not a schedule or something novel to try.”

That’s rude.

And frustratingly accurate. 

“This is ridiculous,” he said out loud, annoyed and embarrassed by the teasing. Logan offered a soft, placating smile that (annoyingly) worked like a charm.

“It’s not, it’s sweet. ‘Sides, contract’s signed in blood, nothin’ I can do about it.” He held up a hand when Wade opened his mouth. “For the record, I opposed that part, but it was two against one.”

Wade gawked at him. 

“And you had absolutely no authority to veto the insane blood pact idea.”

Logan shrugged.

“Obviously. I’m just a lowly foot soldier.”

Wade was so entirely in love with this man. 

He wanted to shoot himself in the face. 

He sighed heavily, exaggerating his exasperation. (He did actually find it kinda sweet, and if Logan were anything more than a guy he was fucking around with who used to hate the very sight of him but now kinda tolerated him even when their dicks weren’t out, it might’ve even been romantic). 

“Guess I’m coming to lunch then.”

“Good choice, bub.” Logan patted his knee, just a little too high, hand lingering just a little too long, but Wade sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out. 

Chapter Text

Ellie

“How’d it go?” Ellie asked as soon as her papi drove away, leaving her at the movie theater with Laura and Gabby.  

“Awful,” Gabby lamented, tossing her head back, face towards the sky, and stomping her foot. 

Laura huffed and crossed her arms. She looked annoyingly cool in her pink sunglasses and ripped jeans, not that Ellie would EVER tell her that. She wondered if her papi would let her get a pair of fishnets like the ones Laura always wore under her pants. Or if he’d notice if she suddenly had new holes in the knees of her new jeans… 

“Not awful,” Laura corrected. 

“They didn’t even kiss once!” Gabby threw her hands in the air. 

Laura took her glasses off and hung them on the front of her shirt. 

“I think you need to lower your expectations if that’s your definition of awful. No blood was spilled. That’s a success.” 

She started walking towards the box office, motioning for them to follow. Ellie fell in line next to Gabby, who was still bemoaning the apparently debatable failure of their mission.  

“But they’re supposed to be falling in looooove, not just not stabbing each other.” 

Laura paid for their tickets and picked the conversation back up in line for popcorn. 

“They’re men, and old, you gotta give it time.”

“At this rate we’re gonna be grown ups before you move in with us,” Ellie complained, slinging an arm around Gabby’s neck and flopping her head onto her shoulder. Laura wasn’t getting the urgency of the situation. “What about the baseball game? Papi said he had fun.”

Gabby shrugged, lifting Ellie’s arm up and down with the movement. 

“I guess it was okay. They were all weird at first and Daddy made me sit in the middle and I tried to get him to switch seats so I could see better and they could accidentally brush pinkies and then start holding hands, but he just made me sit on his lap. It was kinda better after when we got ice cream. Your papi made Daddy laugh a lot, especially when he got ice cream on his nose, but he wiped it off before Daddy could do it for him like in the movies!”

Laura snorted. 

“Dad was not going to do that.”

“He might’ve, if Wade had given him the chance,” Gabby replied defensively. 

Ellie tapped her chin, thinking. They were making progress, but it was too slow. 

“Okay, so we just need to figure out how to make them stop being weird for like half the time they’re together.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Laura said sarcastically.  

“You’re not helping!” Gabby whined at her sister. 

Laura rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. They got called to place their order before she could respond and they put the conversation on hold again while they instructed the teenager behind the counter to keep going with the fake butter until every bit of their popcorn was shiny and yellow. Laura stuffed two handfuls of napkins into her pockets and handed each of them a drink, holding onto the giant tub of greasy popcorn herself. 

“Look, I’m not trying to be negative,” Laura continued. “I’m just saying, it’d be easier to just double the time they’re stuck together than figure out how to make them act like normal, well adjusted human beings from the start. We’ve gotta work with what we’ve got, not what we wish we had.”

She wasn’t wrong. Now, what could they do that would take up more than a couple of hours… Ellie cast her eyes around, looking for inspiration from the movie posters surrounding them. 

“Oh my god that’s it!” She exclaimed, slapping her hand excitedly against Gabby’s shoulder. 

Why didn’t we think of this before?!! 

“What?” They asked in unison.  

“I have the perfect idea.” 

“Which is…?”

“Beach day!”

Her announcement didn’t get the reaction she was hoping for. The sisters looked at each other, frowning. 

“Eh, I don’t know about that,” Laura said, skeptically. 

“Daddy and Laura don’t swim,” Gabby explained, cupping her hand over her mouth to whisper in Ellie’s ear, “they weigh like a million pounds cuz of the metal bones, so they sink.”

“You know I can hear you, jerk.” Laura threw her straw wrapper at Gabby. The curly paper stuck in her hair and Ellie reached over to comb it out for her while she stuck her tongue out. 

“I’m telling Daddy you called me that.”

“Then I’m telling him you said he weighs a million pounds.” 

Ellie ignored their bickering while she tried to come up with an argument for why her idea was great, even if half the party wouldn’t be able to go in the water. 

It took some creative convincing, but eventually Ellie convinced Gabby, who convinced Laura, and they all teamed up and managed to convince Logan to agree to a beach day. 

It took practically no work at all to get Papi to say yes, he loved the beach; his only stipulation was that they go on a weekday and far enough out from the holiday so it wouldn’t be so crowded. 

Ellie just knew this idea was gonna work. She could feel it in her bones. 

Early July

Wade

Beach trips with a child were a LOT more work than beach trips as a single adult. The main reason being the sheer volume of stuff that had to be brought along. 

Wade had packed a cooler full of juice and water and green grapes (NOT purple, heaven forbid) for Ellie and carrot sticks with ranch for Gabby and three different flavors of cheese sticks — which meant he also had to bring pretzels and crackers in a different bag so they didn’t get soggy from the ice. 

He also had towels and a cardigan in case she got cold later and about forty five different plastic sand toys and two buckets and an umbrella. 

Being a single parent is hard in so many more ways than they warn you about, he thought, a little bitterly as he watched the couple in the van next to them distribute their baggage evenly so that they could each still hold one hand of the little boy trying to make a run for it. 

At least Ellie was big enough to be trusted not to run off and she could carry her own towel. 

“You should invest in a wagon,” a deep voice said from behind him, making him startle out of his internal pity party. 

He turned to see the wolverines had arrived. 

He glared at the large black wagon with special off roading sand tires that was half full of snacks and towels. 

“Yeah, I think about it every time we’re here but I never remember to actually do it once I’m in a store. Basically the story of my life.”

“Pretty abridged story.”

Wade blinked at him, then tossed his head back laughing. 

“I think that’s the first joke I’ve ever heard from you.”

“No it’s not.”

“Might be. I’ll cherish the memory, even if it was at my expense; especially because it was at my expense.”

Logan just shook his head, ignoring him, and grabbed the cooler from the back of Wade’s car while instructing Ellie to drop her armful of stuff into the wagon next to Gabby’s things. 

“You comin’?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before heading off in the direction of the ocean, which was good because Wade was ninety-eight percent certain he was going to respond with either an innuendo or a love confession and neither were something that needed to be coming out of his mouth right now. 

He’d been too distracted in the parking lot to take note of just how many cars were out there, but it was immediately apparent once they got past the dunes that everyone else and their mother had picked this particular day to come to the beach. 

Fuck my life, he thought sullenly, untying the hoodie from around his waist and slipping it on. It was hot as balls with the sun beating directly down on him and the sand scorching his feet through his sandals, but it was better than the alternative. He pulled the hood up and got to unloading their stuff, taking his time and sending everyone else off to frolic in the surf while he hid away under their giant pink umbrella. 

Laura grabbed her book and laid out a towel a few feet away, far enough not to get sand kicked all over her by a couple of over excited eight year olds but close enough to still be included in snack time. 

Wade spread out the blanket, anchoring it down with stuff at each corner, and tried to think cool thoughts. 

Only, he checked his phone, four to six more hours of this. 

Awesome.

We like saunas, this is basically the same thing, just with more clothes and sand and direct sunlight. 

So not the same at all. 

“Aren’t you hot?” Gabby’s voice interrupted his internal debate. She’d come running up from the shoreline where she and Ellie had been collecting seashells with Logan. “It’s like ninety bijillion degrees out here.”

Don’t remind me. 

“Swelteringly so. I think my eyeballs are sweating,” he affirmed. 

She tilted her head in that very wolverine-y way the entire family had. He would find it cute if it wasn’t also always so judgy. 

(Who am I kidding? It’s adorable regardless)

“Then why do you still have your jacket on? And your jeans? And why aren’t you in the water? Don’t you like the ocean? Daddy doesn’t swim but he’ll at least stick his feet in when it's suuuuper hot.” She stopped to take a breath, but he could tell she planned to keep going if he didn’t give her an answer soon, so he cut in. 

“Uh, no I do. I do like the ocean. There’s just… a lot more people here than usual for a Tuesday afternoon. I wasn’t expecting…people,” he explained, lamely, hoping she might let it go, but alas, she did not. She was eight and had lived in a giant mansion full of mutants most of her life, of course she wouldn’t make the connection. 

“What’s that got to do with it?”

How to explain… 

“People get a little weird about how I look,” he tried, not wanting to make it a big deal, but not wanting to lie either. “Don’t wanna ruin everyone else’s day, y’know?”

Gabby looked at him, little face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Whaddu mean?”

Ah the innocence of youth. 

“My scars—”

“Oh is that it? I thought maybe you meant you had like eight nipples like a cat mutation or something,” she said, flippantly. 

“Why would you think that?” Wade asked, trying to not laugh. 

Where the fuck do kids come up with these things? 

She just shrugged. 

“I think a lot of weird things,” she explained. “Anyway, why would anyone care about your scars? Lots of people have scars. I got scars too.” She pointed to the lines on her face, marring her forehead and cheeks. “They don’t really bug me.”

“And they shouldn’t. They are delightful,” he said, reaching out to trace one with his finger, then boop her on the nose. She giggled. 

“Daddy says they make me special cuz even though me n’ Laura are the same, we’re not, y’know? Cuz they’re unique,” she sounded the word out carefully and waited for Wade's nod to confirm she’d gotten it right. “and unique stuff is beautiful and special. So you’re like extra beautiful and special cuz you got lots of ‘em,” she explained. 

It was a logical leap, if you didn’t take into consideration that he was him and his kind of unique screamed “freak show” not “snowflake.” He was pretty confident Logan’s little pep talk didn’t extend all the way to him. A line had to be drawn somewhere. 

Still, there was really no way to say the truth about himself without it sounding like he was saying something bad about her, and he would rather go roll around in a pile of jellyfish than make her feel bad about herself for one single second, so he caved.

“I think you might be my favorite Howlett, y’know that? Can we be best friends?”

“‘Course, but Ellie’s best best.”

“Of course.”

“So can you come swim now? Laura wants to lay in the sun even though her dumb tan’s gonna go away in like TWO SECONDS,” she raised her voice and spoke towards where Laura was laying out on her towel, reading her book, ignoring them, then continued at Wade at a more reasonable volume, “and she doesn’t really swim anyway. Neither does daddy, but I want to. I wanna go so far out I can’t touch the bottom!”

“Shouldn’t be too hard for you, chaparrita.” 

He couldn’t resist the tease, patting her on the head. She stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Probably should’ve asked this before we invited you to the beach but, do you know how to swim?”

“Uncle Hank taught me last summer. He said I’m a natural.” She beamed at him, clasping her hands behind her back and swaying from side to side. 

It was only slightly suspicious. 

Note to self: do not let Logan’s baby girl drown. 

Luckily, Wade was a strong swimmer and tall enough that he could take her out to where she couldn’t touch the bottom and the water would still barely be up to his waist, so even if she was lying (or just exaggerating a bit) she wouldn’t be in any danger. 

“Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll come swim with you. Where’s Ellie, she coming too?”

“She’s collecting sea shells with daddy. She said she’ll get in once the bucket’s full.” 

“Looks like it’s just you and me then. Let’s do this!”

Logan

At the sound of his daughter’s scream, Logan looked up from his hunt for interesting shells for Ellie’s collection, heart in his throat. The panic only lasted the second or so it took to realize it was a scream of excitement, not danger, as she barreled past him and into the chilly water, Wade right on her heels.

Logan instinctively tensed as soon as she hit the water, watching helplessly as a large wave swelled up in front of her, moments away from crashing.  

“You beat me!” he heard Wade tell her, laughing, as he lifted her into the air and onto his shoulders right as the wave broke around his knees. He waited for the surf to calm down a bit, wading further into the ocean past where most of the waves were breaking before putting her back down. 

Logan started breathing again. 

He spent the next hour with his attention split between oooh-ing and ahhh-ing over the shells Ellie held up for consideration, and keeping an eye on Gabby. Based on how he could still hear her squealing laughter over the roar of the waves, she was having the time of her life out there. He watched her float over smaller waves, held his breath each time they dove under a crashing one until he could see her head pop back up. Wade held onto her hand the whole time, only letting go when he was lifting her up above the water or letting her sit on his shoulders. Logan lied to himself that the swooping, fluttery feeling in his stomach was nerves and not something dangerously close to longing watching the two of them out there, seeing Wade treat his daughter as if she were his own. 

Any of his friends would’ve done the same. 

It didn’t mean anything.

After a while, Ellie grew bored of picking up seashells and joined them out in the water, giving Logan an excuse to devote all of his attention to watching Wade them while he started laying out stuff for lunch, anticipating a couple of starving children when they finally decided to take a break. 

Sure enough, another thirty minutes or so and the girls were speeding towards the blanket, Gabby’s mouth running nearly as fast as her feet. 

“Did you see me did you see me did you see me??? I was soooooo far out and the waves were soooooo big but I didn’t get drowneded once! But I got water up my nose a couple times and that was gross. My mouth is all salty. Ocean water tastes gross. I’m starving. Can we have lunch?” 

Logan intercepted her charge before she reached the edge of the blanket, wrapping her up in a towel via bear hug and lifting her up and away, towards Laura, who grabbed one of her kicking feet to wipe the sand off before she could get it all over the place. Once she was deemed clean enough, Logan deposited her onto the blanket next to where he was sitting. 

“Up,” Laura ordered, pointing from Ellie to Wade. She gave her the same feet cleaning treatment before grabbing her own food and resettling on her towel, still far enough away to maintain her cool, teenage aloofness but still participate in the conversation if she so chose. 

Logan passed around the sandwiches; crunchy peanut butter and grape jelly cut into squares for Gabby, smooth peanut butter and strawberry jelly cut into triangles for Ellie, smooth peanut butter and banana for Wade, not cut into pieces, but crusts removed. 

He pointedly ignored the look Wade was giving him, like he was stunned, either that Logan had been thoughtful enough to make them what they liked or that he’d even remembered at all. 

This is why he hated doing shit for people. 

Okay, he didn’t hate the doing, he just hated them knowing or acknowledging it whatsoever. 

Especially Wade. 

It wasn’t weird to know Ellie’s sandwich preferences — she was over at their place at least three times a week, sometimes more. It would be weird (and kinda shitty) if he didn’t know her order by now. 

It was weird that he knew Wade’s. Maybe not weird per se, but definitely overfamiliar, possibly slipping into the dangerous territory of seeming to care and that was not something he needed Wade thinking too hard about or he might start putting two and two together, and then it would be all over for Logan.  

Wade

Wade, for his part, was thinking waaaaay too hard about the possible implications of Logan apparently remembering everything he’d ever eaten in front of him. 

The rational part of his brain (small though it was) said it was just Logan being Logan. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he really did have an ooey gooey center once you got past the hard shell of an exterior. He might suck at expressing himself in words but he showed he cared in other ways, often through food.

Wade could remember dozens of examples, like how every time they rescued a kid from some scumbag predator of the week he was always the first one there offering them comfort in the form of something hearty and warm. 

Wade had never been great at that part. The rescuing he had down, he could do that part all day, but dealing with the aftermath… maybe it was because he took it too personally or he had too many of his own unresolved issues but every time he tried to be calm and comforting the anger came rushing to the surface instead. 

He was better at it now, but there was something so inherently safe about Logan that people responded to that Wade just didn’t possess. 

Anyway, point was, Logan was probably just doing it subconsciously. Like, he’d seen Wade eat countless peanut butter and banana sandwiches – holed up in safe houses, on long ass drives across unnamed borders – so his brain just went on autopilot when he was packing their little picnic. He would’ve done the same for any of his friends (we’re friends, right?). 

There was nothing special about Wade. 

We may have miscalculated.

After lunch, and the construction of Poolopolis (Wade called dibs on naming rights since he was the financial backer, after all) and its inevitable and tragic catastrophic destruction by waves and feet alike, Wade had suggested a game of volleyball instead of going back into the water. 

He, regrettably, failed to take Logan’s gloriously sweaty tits into consideration when he made the suggestion though.  

Or when he’d bragged about being all-star champ in high school (which may or may not have actually happened). 

Or when he’d shit-talked himself into playing 3v1 with him against Logan, Gabby, and Ellie with Laura volunteering as referee to save her brand new manicure.  

So now here he was, missing shot after shot that should have been EASY all because Logan kept insisting on serving and his pecs did this delicious jiggling thing when he jumped that Wade physically could not look away from. 

It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

Like looking at a sunset.

Or staring straight into the sun. 

He knew Logan knew, and that he was exploiting his capacity to distract to its fullest extent, which was, to be frank (no, not you, Bernthal), cheating and rude and absolutely something Wade would’ve done if there was a single enticing piece of his body that he could flaunt. 

“I thought you said you were good at volleyball,” he teased after scoring yet another point looking like he was auditioning for a role as an extra in Top Gun with his glistening abs, aviators, and conceited little smirk that had Wade in a chokehold, especially when he used it under different circumstances. 

Wade wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, panting. 

“Did I say volleyball? I meant lacrosse.”

He locked in and managed to score a few points so his loss wasn’t a total humiliation, but it wasn’t far off. 

At Laura’s whistle blow announcing the end of the game he crumpled dramatically to the ground, dropping to his knees and shaking his fists at the sky, shouting a loud, anguished “noooooooooooooooooo!” until he was completely out of breath. 

He glanced at the others and caught Logan and Laura crossing their arms almost in unison, identical looks of exasperated fondness on their faces. He peeped Ellie folding her arms over her chest and jutting her hip out in imitation of how Laura was standing. 

He’d suspected he had the teen to thank for the tears in his daughter’s brand new jeans and this little display was confirming it. 

Can’t complain, there are way worse role models to choose. 

Unlike the too cool for school crowd, Gabby was giggling so hard she almost fell over. 

At least someone appreciated his theatrical efforts. 

“You know, I think it’s against the Geneva Conventions to make someone dig their own grave,” he complained a few minutes later, halfway through digging a hole big enough to comfortably lie in as he blinked the salty mixture of seawater and sweat from his eyes. 

Man, eyebrows would be useful right about now. 

Or hair in general. 

“Definitely some supervillain-in-the-making behavior. Whose fuckass idea was it for the loser to be buried alive, again?”

“That would be yours, bub,” Logan informed him while he watched from the sidelines, unhelpfully. 

“Thought I told you to stop letting me have ideas. It’s bad for the environment,” Wade complained. 

“Consider this a teachable moment,” Logan suggested. Wade thought very seriously about throwing a shovel of sand at him, but the collateral damage would’ve been too severe since he was in line with their stuff. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s there to learn about me getting buried in hot sand, Mr. Professor sir?” 

“Bragging has consequences.” 

The response took a second longer than it should’ve and his voice sounded distracted, causing Wade to look up just in time to catch Logan’s eyes following a bead of sweat trailing its way down his chest only to be lost in the dip of his hipbone. 

He glanced over his shoulder, checking that the rest of their troop was occupied down by the water, out of earshot. 

He put a hand on his hip, stealthily flexing while slipping the front of his swim trunks down just a smidge, drawing attention to the spot where Logan had already been staring. He lowered his voice in both volume and pitch when he spoke next. 

“Mmm I’m notoriously bad at learning lessons. Might take a refresher course somewhere down the line, and a firmer hand to really drive the point home.” He winked, turning back to his work before the heated look on Logan’s face got them into trouble. 

“How long do you think they’re gonna make me stay in here?” He’d been buried for somewhere between five and seventy minutes, he couldn’t be sure, he couldn’t see his watch so he had to go off vibes.

We don’t have a watch. 

It’s a metaphor.

“A while,” Logan answered, completely unhelpfully. 

“My nose itches.”

“That sucks.”

Wade cut his eyes over at him, but he was hiding behind those stupid sunglasses again. He’d put them back on after he’d been caught staring, as if that would stop Wade’s sixth sense from alerting him every time Logan ogled his ass. 

“I’m thirsty.”

“Too bad.”

“Come on man, I’m suffering down here,” he whined to deaf ears. 

“Shoulda thought about that before you lost.”

“Will you at least get my hat? The glare is burning my retina and the direct sunlight is bad for my bald head. What if I get skin cancer?”

Logan didn’t laugh at his joke, but he did get up, heaving a heavy sigh as he did to let Wade know how inconvenienced he was. To Wade’s delight, instead of bringing him the hat, he uprooted the whole goddamn umbrella and moved it over to a spot just behind them where it would provide a lovely shade for Wade, protecting him from the skin scorching UV rays. 

(The cancer part might’ve been a joke, but the sunlight being bad for his skin wasn’t. It made it feel too tight and itchy, and it made him peel so bad he could give Dr. Connors a run for his money). 

“So…parched….”

He smacked his lips obnoxiously, trying to draw attention to how dry his poor mouth was. 

He waited a few seconds then, when there was no response, coughed pathetically. 

Logan huffed. 

“Are you done?”

“Sorry… can’t… speak….”

“Not seeing a negative here, bub.”

“You’re a dick.”

Wade would’ve crossed his arms if they weren’t buried at his sides. All he could move was his face so he had to focus all of his efforts there, sticking his lip out and frowning, even throwing in a sniffle or two. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Logan grumbled, shutting his book with a snap. “Fruit punch or apple juice?”

“Fruit punch, obviously. Gimme that red dye number three, baybeeee.” 

Wade tilted his head back, grinning widely while Logan shoved a straw at his face. 

Maybe this being buried alive thing wasn’t so bad…

Time passed while Logan tried to read and Wade tried to distract him by narrating the actions of different groups of beach goers, doing the different voices and everything. 

The girls came by to check on them and grab some snacks, denying his appeal for parole and running off to go frolic in the surf, giggling at his distraught pleas for freedom. 

He turned to Logan for support but he’d already opened his book back up to pick up where he’d left off. 

Wade gave him precisely sixty seconds of silence before he started back up his commentary. 

It’s not my fault. Being buried is so booooring.

“You know, all that exercise really worked up an appetite,” he said, staring longingly at the bag of pretzels in Logan’s hand.

“You mean falling on your face for an hour?” The man didn’t even have the decency to look away from his book while insulting him. 

“Jerk.”

“You’re the one who lied about being a world class volleyball champion.” 

Wade scoffed at the accusation. 

“You deliberately distracted me.”

“Sounds like something a loser would say.”

Wade was going to smack him as soon as he had his hands free again.

“You know what you did, you cheater.”

“I got no idea what you’re talking about,” Logan denied, turning the page of his book. “But if I did, I’d say it’s not my fault you’re easily distracted.” 

“You’re a terrible person,” Wade informed him, pouting again.   

“What was it you used to say? It’s not cheating, it’s proper utilization of available resources.”

Wade opened his mouth to argue, annoyed at his own motto being used against him (and a little turned on, not gonna lie), but was thwarted by a handful of pretzels being shoved into his open maw. 

Rude. 

Laura

“How much longer do I have to pretend to be looking at seashells? I’ve only got one chapter left,” Laura asked, bending to pick up a pretty purpley-orange shell that was almost fully intact. 

“Until they kiss,” her sister answered, unhelpfully. 

“Gabby, I told you, that’s not going to happen.”

“A few more minutes please?” Ellie pleaded. “Look! It’s working!”

Laura fought the urge to whip around to see what she was talking about. She was better at covert ops than that. She gave it a few heartbeats then bent down again, this time angled a little to the side so she could see what was happening out of her peripherals, then tossed her hair like she was trying to get it out of her way, to get a better look. 

No fucking way. 

Her dad was hand feeding Wade. 

In public. 

Of his own free will. 

Without a gun to his head. 

Maybe this was more serious than she’d initially thought. That was not frenemy-fuckbuddy behavior. 

Wade

Despite the discomfort of the hot sand against his sensitive skin, Wade was pretty sure he could’ve stayed there all day, content to be hand fed and occasionally antagonized, enjoying the sea breeze and the sounds of joyful laughter from their children. 

It was nice to play pretend. 

It couldn’t last forever though. After a while, Logan whistled, getting the attention of his girls and Ellie by proxy. 

Wade bit his tongue, valiantly resisting the urge to make a dog comparison. 

He waited until most of their mess had been cleaned up and packed away before standing up, breaking free of his sand prison, earning a round of applause from the girls and an eye roll from Logan. 

The day had been going so well that he’d let himself forget, just for a little bit, that he didn’t get to be “normal,” at least not in public. It didn’t take long for the universe to remind him though. It was a real pal like that. 

He heard them before he saw them, attuned as he was to other people’s hushed gasps and barely stifled laughter. A group of young women huddled around one of the many foot rinsing stations near the entrance to the beach, a few yards away from where they were attempting to wash the sand off of their own bodies. 

Wade exhaled slowly and made quick work of toweling off the remnants of sand that clung to the backs of his knees and under his chin so that he could hurry up and cover himself. He pulled his forgotten jacket out of the piles of dry clothes and hurriedly shoved his arms into the sleeves, fumbling with the zipper in his haste to get it closed. 

The material was tugged out of his hands and suddenly Logan was standing in front of him, pushing his hands aside to zip up the hoodie for him, drawing the zipper up to his mid-chest. 

Wade pulled it up all the way to his neck out of habit and Logan pulled it back down again, a little bit lower this time, patting him on the chest. 

“Their comfort isn’t worth your discomfort, Red,” he said, words hushed but hanging heavy in the air between them. 

Wade crossed his arms over his chest, resisting the urge to try to rub away the ache that was forming there. He didn’t like the intensity in the look he was getting from Logan. Or maybe he liked it too much. He couldn’t untangle the web of feelings inside him so he did the next best thing and shoved them down, searching his brain in vain for a joke or self-deprecation to change the tone and coming up empty. 

A quiet growl broke the silence, an escaped rumble from Logan’s chest as his head turned slightly towards the group of women. They must’ve said something else, but it was too low for Wade to hear this time. 

Small mercies.

Not that it mattered, he’d heard it all before. This was one of those times he was glad Ellie didn’t have enhanced senses. He was used to the stares and the gasps and the thinly veiled insults wrapped in cruel sympathy, it barely got to him anymore (liar), but it made it one hundred times worse when someone else noticed, especially Ellie. 

And now Logan was witnessing it.  

Speaking of… 

He was about to do something stupid and unnecessary, Wade could see it in his clenched jaw and flared nostrils, the loose, relaxed posture he’d carried all day all but gone and replaced by something more alert; a lion ready to pounce. 

Wade put a hand on his arm, squeezing hard and shaking his head once. 

“Just leave it. Please.” He could tell Logan didn’t want to, jaw muscles working overtime grinding his teeth together, but he followed Wade’s gaze back to where the girls were supposed to be rinsing off and were instead playing under the ice cold shower spray, and thankfully let it drop. 

Wade pulled his hood up and started attempting to wrangle the girls away from the water so that they could leave sometime before midnight. 

He was distracted enough with the task that he didn’t notice Laura had slipped away until he heard her saying something to Logan at a volume too low for him to make out any of the words.

He watched Logan wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to plant a kiss on the top of her head. 

“Good girl,” he told her, squeezing her in a brief hug. She scrunched up her nose, exactly like her sister, but hugged back for a second, just long enough to let him know she didn’t really hate it. 

“Pendejos,” Laura muttered under her breath, glaring back over at the group of women.

“Don’t say that word,” he said to Ellie, Logan echoing the order a fraction of a second slower. 

“Whatsit mean?” Gabby asked, tilting her head to the side and looking between her dad and her sister. 

Laura opened her mouth but it was immediately covered by Logan’s palm. 

“It’s a bad word, don’t say it.”

“I know what it means!” Ellie offered, to Wade’s utter horror and surprise. He whipped his head around to look at his daughter, mentally scrolling back through his conversations to try to remember if he’d ever used it in front of her and if he had, why in the world he would’ve given her the definition. 

“How?”

“Auntie Neena told me but she made me promise not to say it until I’m old. Like, at least twelve.”

Of course she did. 

“We’re going to be having a talk with Auntie Neena when we get home,” Wade muttered. 

The exchange meant he couldn’t reprimand Logan for working around his request to not intervene by siccing his eldest on the unsuspecting group because now Ellie’s attention was back on him and the whole point had been to avoid her knowing what was going on. 

He wanted to be angry about it, but he couldn’t muster up anything more than mild annoyance wrapped up in a thick layer of embarrassment. 

They meant well; Wade could appreciate that. It wasn’t their fault they hadn’t realized how futile it was to respond. They’d figure it out soon enough if they kept insisting on spending time around him in public. It was easy in the winter; no one questioned why you were covered from head to toe when it was cold as Jotunheim outside, but in the summer? Yeah, no, there was no avoiding it. 

Maybe he could convince Ellie to get interested in a more secluded hobby like bird watching or cave diving…

For now, he just had to grin and bear it and try not to die of shame and self-hatred in the meantime.  

Wade jolted, startled out of his spiral by a firm pat on the back. 

“You ready?” Logan asked, looking at him like he was seeing more than Wade wanted him too. 

He pursed his lips, nodding and plastering a fake smile onto his face.

Fake it til you make it, right guys?  

“Yeah, let’s go. Did someone say something about chicken nuggets?” 

Gabby cheered loudly at the suggestion, swinging her and Ellie’s linked hands back and forth as they skipped toward the parking lot. 

Wade started walking too and Logan fell in step beside him, hand still lingering in the center of his back, grounding and quietly possessive, gently guiding him forward as they passed through the swaths of people coming and going. 

His skin tingled with the memory of it for the rest of the night. 

Beach “mission” debrief

Laura

“Well that went well,” Laura said at the same time her sister lamented “that was awful.”

Laura rolled her eyes. 

“I told you, not kissing doesn’t mean it was awful. They didn’t fight once. Barely even any bickering, even when Wade poured that bucket of water over Dad’s head.”

“But they spent a bunch of time apart cuz of the swimming,” Gabby argued. 

“Yeah, but only for the first half of the day, after that they were together the whole time,” Laura reminded her. 

“Yeah, and what about the pretzels? That was super romantical,” Ellie pointed out, for once agreeing with Laura. 

“And the jacket thing,” Laura added. They might as well have started making out in the middle of the sidewalk, it would’ve been less intimate (and gross) than whatever the hell that was. She’d almost barfed. 

“What jacket thing?” They asked simultaneously. 

“Nothing, doesn’t matter,” Laura deflected. She’d forgotten the context of the whole “jacket thing,” for a second. She shouldn’t’ve brought it up. Wade obviously didn’t want Ellie thinking about it. 

She redirected. 

“Point is, I still think it counts as a win.”

Gabby considered, looking down at her notebook and finally drawing a checkmark and three and a half hearts next to “Operation: Beach Day.” 

They were running out of creative titles. Thank god. 

“So what’s next? It needs to be something they’ll have to stick together for,” Gabby asked, turning to a new empty page in the book, pen at the ready. 

“I’ve got it! Get ready to be wowed,” Ellie announced. 

“You don’t have to introduce every thought like that,” Laura informed her. 

She spit her tongue out before continuing, undeterred, and gave herself a drumroll before announcing: “Camping trip!”

“That’s… actually not terrible,” Laura replied, a little annoyed she hadn’t thought of it first. It was actually kind of perfect. “We go every year before school starts back up. I bet Gabby can get him to invite you guys, easy.”

She had their dad wrapped around her little fingers, there was no way he was saying no to her for a camping trip when he hadn’t been able to say no to the beach. The plan was basically a go from the start. 

Ellie cheered excitedly while Gabby scribbled out their new plan. 

“Yes! It’s absolutely gonna work this time.”

Chapter Text

End of July

Wade

How in the name of Bea Arthur’s granny panties did we let ourselves get tricked into hiking? This is awful, Wade thought sourly. His foot slipped, ankle twisting painfully and repairing itself in moments while Logan reached out to steady him, holding on to his arm for a good thirty seconds past when he needed it, probably to make sure he wasn’t going to do it again.

(He absolutely was. That was the third time already and they weren’t even halfway there).

“You good, bub?”

That. That right there was the reason he’d let himself get roped into the end-of-summer camping trip.

How could he give up the opportunity to see the Wolverine in his natural habitat, communing with nature and sowing his oats and all those other nature-y things crunchy almond people did outside?

All he had to do was survive the obstacle course that was the great outdoors and he would get his prize.  

It’d seemed like a good deal at the time, now though… Now the regret was starting to sink in. 

He plastered on a fake smile and pretended to be enjoying himself. 

“Peachy. I love walking at max incline in the scorching heat, while being swarmed by tiny disease vectors, dodging boulders and tree branches and loose dirt like Indiana fucking Jones over here all while carrying a hundred pounds on my back. Totally my idea of a good time.” 

Nailed it. 

Logan nudged him with his shoulder and Wade had to put a hand out to stop himself from careening to the side. He wasn’t sure how much more of this his poor legs could take. These quads were built for strength, not endurance. 

“It’s not that bad.” 

Wade would’ve laughed if he’d had the breath to do so without also dying. 

“For you,” he managed to bite out. 

Logan patted him on the back, and Wade couldn’t tell if it felt more patronizing or steadying when his hand lingered there. Probably a bit of both. The bastard. 

“Promise it’ll be worth it when we get to camp. Besides, it’s good for the kids to learn sometimes you gotta work hard for what you want. Adversity builds character.”

That did make Wade snort, despite his lack of oxygen. 

“Yeah, cuz that’s what my life’s been lacking: adversity.”

Logan burst out laughing, head tipped up toward the scenic sky, the kind of laugh that’s as genuine as it is shocking.

Wade tried to ignore the warm, tingly feeling running through his veins for the rest of the hike every time he looked over at him and saw the grin that lingered on his lips, long past when the initial outburst was over. 

Logan wasn’t lying; the camping spot he led them to was gorgeous. A clearing at the top of the mountain, all lush green grass and pretty little wildflowers, and the view… 

WOW. 

Miles and miles of clear blue sky and puffy white clouds stretched out over the mountain tops. Wade could almost admit it was worth the struggle. (But only to himself). 

He dropped his bag next to the pile Logan, Laura, and Gabby had made, obviously familiar with this little stretch of paradise from past trips. There was a well-worn circular clearing, at the center of which was a semi-circle of dead logs around what Wade assumed was a fire pit. It’d obviously been a few months since anyone had been out here, but Wade could see the vision. 

It was all very picturesque and exactly the type of place he’d imagine la famille du Wolverine spending their free time frolicking in the wilderness for a family vacation. 

What the fuck are we doing here? 

“The girls’ve got the tents,” Logan said, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him as he reached for the pile of tent poles. “Go take a breather. Relax, enjoy the view.”

“I can help,” Wade started, not wanting to seem any more useless than he already felt. He was suddenly remembering why he was always the first to make travel and activity suggestions – he hated not being the best at whatever was going on.   

“We got this, shoo,” Laura waved him off like a mosquito, grabbing his tent off the ground and taking it over to where Gabby was already laying theirs out methodically, explaining her process to a captivated Ellie. 

Ellie. Right. This was for the kid, not his ego; he could deal with being ass at something for a few days. It was a small price to pay for her happiness. 

She’d spent most of last week consuming every piece of camping-related media appropriate for her age group that they could find. She’d even made him binge countless episodes of Alone, right up until the night before, but nothing could beat hands-on experience. 

He’d let her excitement trick his brain into being excited too, but the five hour trek had reminded him why he hated the great outdoors: because the great outdoors hated him. 

As if to emphasize his point, he felt a stinging pain on his ear, followed by one on the back of his neck and then his ankle. 

Fucking mosquitos. 

You’d think the cancer would be a deterrent to the little blood-suckers but noooooooo. Apparently I’m delicious. 

He swatted at his attackers and let himself be shooed away to wait for the ol’healing factor to kick in and get rid of the stitch in his side. 

He looked around slowly, taking it all in, the bright blue sky, the emerald green foliage, the smattering of pretty wildflowers all around their little grove, the thick, dark trail of hair running down Logan’s abdomen made visible when he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow…

At least the view was worth it. 

Wade felt a tug on his shorts sometime later and looked down to find his daughter’s wide, worried eyes staring up at him. 

“What’s up, mija?”

She bit her lip, looking over at Logan, who was sitting a few yards away, nose stuck in a book, then back to Wade, then a little bit further past to where Gabby and Laura were arguing about tent construction. 

She pulled at his clothes again until he knelt down to her level, then explained quietly,

“We forgot about a nightlight.” 

Shit. I knew we were gonna leave behind something important. 

Great job, Father of the Year. 

Fuck, what was he going to do? Not like they could go back and get it now. 

“Maybe Gabby has one?” He suggested a little louder, looking over at Logan for help, knowing he’d likely heard her. 

Logan set his book to the side, eyebrows knit together and head tilted, not unlike a confused puppy. 

“Why would she need one?”

Okay. Wow. Way to be a dick. 

Wade made a “what the fuck?” face at him, but bit refrained from chewing him out verbally since he didn’t want Ellie to hear the words he wanted to say. He took a deep breath instead and tried not to snap. 

“There are a lot of scary things in the dark, Logan. There’s no shame in wanting to see your surroundings.”

Logan looked affronted by the use of his actual name. He scrunched his forehead some more, then must’ve realized how he’d sounded because he shook his head, expression softening.

“No, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. 

To Ellie. 

Not to Wade like he’d initially thought for an entire panic-ridden three seconds. (Or maybe that fluttery feeling inside his chest at the idea of Logan casually calling him by a pet name was something else, but Wade wasn’t trying to delve too deep into that right now).

Logan got up from his seat on one of the many fallen logs around them and knelt down on the other side of Ellie. 

“There’s nothin’ wrong with havin’ a nightlight. I know plenty of grown ups that use ‘em. In fact, Dr. McCoy keeps one in the lab just in case he falls asleep in there. Gabby doesn’t need one though because she can see in the dark a lot better than most people can.”

“How?” Ellie asked, echoing Wade’s own thoughts. 

Must be another one of the “improvements” on Logan’s genetic code. 

“It’s part of our mutation. Got an extra membrane in our eyes that makes it easier for us.”

Our mutation. 

Our eyes. 

Us. 

Wade’s lungs stopped working. 

“Like a kitty cat?” Ellie asked, in that excited way she had when she was able to link two pieces of information together and build a fuller picture of the world. 

Wade’s brain was also doing that, and coming to the worst conclusion ever. 

Logan cut his eyes over at him, waiting for a joke, but Wade was too busy blue-screening to even swing, let alone knock that home run outta the park. 

“There’s a lot of other animals that have it too, but yeah I guess, like a cat,” Logan told her, continuing to glance at Wade with concern. 

His daughter’s shoulders sagged dramatically. 

“Ugh that’s so unfair. Why don’t we get cool extra eye bits?” She whined at him, but he was still actively having to tell his body to breathe and therefore unable to respond to the ungrateful demand. 

Kids these days, never satisfied. 

Logan chuckled and answered for him, sounding like he’d maybe already had this conversation once in the other direction. 

“You got cool extra brain bits. Gabby’s outside senses are enhanced whereas your inside senses are.” He tapped her temple with two fingers. “You complement each other. That’s what makes a good team.”

“That’s why we’re gonna be the best superhero duo that’s ever existed,” she said, matter-of-fact.  

“I’ve got no doubt you’re gonna be the best at whatever you put your mind to,” Logan told her with a smile that would’ve melted Wade’s heart and made his non-existent ovaries explode had he had the capacity to pay attention to it. 

He was still stuck fifteen lines up. 

“Why didn’t I know this about you?” He demanded, turning a delayed, accusatory stare on the other man. Logan stared right back like he was looking at a crazy person. 

(Spoiler alert: he was).

“You did?”

“No, I most definitely did not,” Wade insisted. 

“Yes, you did,” he insisted right back, like Wade could’ve forgotten something so critically, vitally important. 

“No, because if that were true—” he cut himself off. 

If that were true, Wade would have to go yeet himself off the side of this mountain. There was absolutely no way Logan had been able to see in the dark this whole time. 

No. Fucking. Way. 

Please?

“How the hell’d you think I was leadin’ us around in the dark all those times without eye gear then?” Logan asked him, bewildered by Wade’s apparent lack of observation skills. 

Wade threw his hands in the air. 

“By your nose! I thought you were a bloodhound, not a bobcat!”

Logan was laughing at him now. 

Great. At least someone found the situation funny. Wade sure as hell didn’t. 

“Bobcats navigate with their noses too, idiot.”

“So you’re leaning into the new kitty moniker, good to know.”

“Papi! What’re we gonna do about meeeeeee?” Ellie cut in, stomping her foot and crossing her arms. 

“Right. Um.” He squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed at his forehead, trying to rescramble his thoughts into something more useful and relevant for the moment. He could deal with the existential crisis later, his daughter needed him now. 

Again though, Logan jumped in to save him. 

“It’s a full moon tonight, should be plenty bright shining into your tent. But if that’s not enough, you can borrow my lantern. It’s got a low setting and I brought plenty of extra batteries, just in case.”

Why does the universe hate me so much? Does he have to be so fucking perfect all the goddamn time? 

Wade wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him (or maybe kiss him?) because that suggestion was amazing, of course, and worked like a charm to reassure his distraught child, which only made Wade fall even more stupidly, regrettably in love with him.

Maybe he would go yeet himself off this mountain…

“Good job on the tents. And without bloodshed this year, I'm so proud of you both,” Logan teased, patting both of his girls on the head and earning identical annoyed glares when the three of them walked back over to camp a little while later. 

“We should get our stuff inside before the sun starts to go down.” He grabbed two backpacks from the pile, handing Wade his own when he reached it. 

“Nuh-uh, you’re over there.” Gabby placed a hand on her father’s chest to stop him from walking into their tent and pointed at the one Wade had brought.  

“Yeah, no boys allowed!” Ellie added, crossing her arms like a miniature bouncer at the world's most boring and remote mountain nightclub. 

Logan turned to his eldest for support, seemingly the most reasonable amongst them, but she just shrugged and grabbed her and Gabby’s bags from his hands, tossing them into the tent he’d been banned from. 

“Sorry dad. The council has voted. Also, you snore.”

“She’s not wrong,” Wade added as a helpful aside. 

“Sucks to be you,” Laura teased, nodding to the tent he was apparently now sharing with her snoring father. 

You have no idea, he thought bitterly. 

Outwardly, he just plastered on a “what’re you gonna do” kind of turn to his mouth and turned to go unpack his sleeping bag. 

It’s just three days. We’ve survived much worse for much longer. 

Just three more days of family fun, playing a game of pretend that would never, ever turn into a reality. 

Maximum effort. 

“Shouldn’t we be eating freshly hunted boar or something? That sounds like it would be an essential part of your camping experience,” Wade commented, holding up his sandwich which was very much not made of boar. 

Logan huffed, finishing up his task of passing around water bottles before taking a seat between him and Laura. 

“There aren’t any boar around here. And even if there were, that’d be way too much food for the five of us. That’s just needlessly wasteful.”

“Only kill what you can eat,” Gabby chimed in, like that was a totally normal etiquette rule like always saying please and thank you, or washing your hands before meals.  

“Exactly,” Logan said, nodding at her approvingly. 

Good god this family fascinates me. 

But also, boooooooo!

“If you can’t kill a boar you can just say you can’t kill a boar, you don’t have to make up excuses,” Wade muttered, too loud to be under his breath. 

“It's not an excuse,” Logan insisted, bristling at Wade’s accusation, just like he knew he would.  “And I can kill a boar,” he added defensively. 

The man was sooooo easy to play with.

“Mmhmm.”

“I’ve spent literal decades living off the land. I can kill a boar.”

“Sure you can,” Wade said, patronizingly patting him on the arm and earning a growl and nostril flare for his efforts. “We’re just eating pb&j’s because it’s better for the environment.”

Logan threw his hands in the air. 

“There aren’t even any goddamn boar on this mountain!”

“Well what about a deer? The five of us could probably put away a whole deer.”

“Do you have any idea how big an adult deer is?”

Wade held out his arms in an estimate that was a complete shot in the dark. 

One that apparently missed the mark by a mile. 

“You’re an idiot. You want venison that bad ya got plenty of acres to hunt on. I’m sure you could find something.”

“That’s not the pooooint. You’re the wild man,” he poked Logan in the arm, snatching his finger back quickly before it could be snapped in half. “You’re supposed to do the wild man things.”

Logan sighed heavily before offering a meager concession. 

“We’ll go fishin’ tomorrow when we have more daylight.”

Ellie cheered excitedly. 

“Yes! I’ve never actually been fishing, but I read three whole books about it this week and watched like forty bajillion videos and I’ve been practicing casting my line and only stuck Papi with the hook two times.”

“Basically an expert,” Laura said in that way of hers that might’ve been sarcastic, might’ve been sincere, making Ellie positively beam. 

He hoped she managed to catch at least one fish. It’d never been one of his preferred pastimes — sitting still and being quiet being the two main prerequisites — but Ellie’d been excited about trying her hand at it ever since Gabby told her fishing would be on the itinerary. 

Wade let the matter of hunting go, for the moment, planning to revisit the teasing at least three more times before they went home, just to see how long it took for a dead boar to show up on his doorstep — or possibly in his bed like some kind of wilderness mafia warning. Logan’s ego was the second biggest thing about him. 

After dinner a bag of marshmallows was produced from somewhere, along with a box of graham crackers and a handful of chocolate bars. 

“Man, how could I have forgotten about s’mores? That’s the only thing camping’s got going for it,” Wade said, the prospect of an ooey gooey treat making his dinner sandwich slightly less depressing. “I didn’t even bring my special skewers!”

“You have s’more-specific skewers?” Laura asked, pausing in her task of opening the stacks of graham crackers to star at him like he was a lunatic. 

“I’m detecting more judgment than awe in that tone and I don’t appreciate it,” Wade told her. Sure, it wasn’t super common to have custom-made skewers with intricate, hand-carved handle designs and points sharp enough to kill someone, but they’d been a retirement gift from an ex-arms dealer. Well, the woman was probably still in the blade making/selling business, but Wade had stopped buying from her ages ago. 

Maybe we should look her up, now that we’re un-retired.

“Why would anyone spend money on a fake stick that’s only gonna get used a handful of times?” Logan interrupted his mental tangent by asking, like it was some sort of insane, bewildering concept, despite the fact that commercial skewers existed in like every store ever during the summer months. 

“First of all, I think you’re vastly underestimating the number of s’mores and s’more-adjacent snacks my household consumes on a yearly basis, and second of all, what else is one supposed to use to toast their marshmallows?”

“A stick?” Logan stated, making a sweeping motion with his hand to indicate the vast supply of dirty, probably termite-infested options available, as if Wade was the one being difficult. 

“Bark-stuffed marshmallows are not my idea of a delicious sweet treat, but you do you, boo.” He patted Logan on the knee, patronizingly. “Don’t hate just because some of us on this trip didn’t descend from a long line of bark-eating mammals.”

“Pretty sure apes eat bark,” Logan said, matter-of-fact. 

Wade threw his hands up in the air. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was camping with Jane Goodall — RIP queen.” He put one hand to his heart then raised it to the sky in honor of the legend herself. 

“Wolverines don’t even eat vegetation unless there’s no meat around,” Laura leaned around her father to add. 

Wade smacked himself on the forehead. 

“Right, I forgot you’re the cultural attaché for your people.”

“I'm disappointed,” she said, shaking her head solemnly. “You said last time you would do your research.”

He had to work to control his expression and tamp down the swell of pride he felt in his chest. 

Finally, a Wolverine that can appreciate the comedic impact of a good callback.  

He hoped Logan was taking notes. 

Wade adopted a solemn expression, aiming for contrite and ashamed.

“You’re right, that’s on me. I’ll do better,” he pledged. 

She reached behind Logan, attempting to flick him on the ear but he dodged just in time. Logan grabbed her arm and pulled it back down. 

“Remind me again who the eight-year-olds are here?” He said, looking between the two of them. 

“I didn’t even do anything,” Wade complained in defense of himself. 

“You’re antagonizing her.”

“I did no such thing. I was just trying to explain that sticks are dirty and gross and probably covered in all sorts of animal excreations that I don’t particularly want flavoring my after dinner snack. I don’t know why you’re trying to make me seem like the weird one here.” 

Logan shook his head, sighing heavily. 

“You can just whittle the branch, bub.” 

Wade snorted a laugh. 

Who the fuck whittles in this day and age? 

“Okay, grandpa.”

“Look!” Gabby’s yell interrupted their debate and the three of them looked across the fire to see her excitedly holding up her fists, claws out, while Ellie stacked them high with marshmallows. 

Wade gave her a round of applause. 

“We love a problem solver.”

Laura grabbed the bag from them before they could use the whole thing and let one claw out, piercing a single marshmallow with the tip before she passed the bag to her dad. 

Wade looked over at him with pleading eyes, folding his hands underneath his chin. 

“Plenty of sticks around, Red; get to whittling.”

“C’mon pleeeeeease? I’ve seen you grill hotdogs on those things, a little campfire cooking isn’t beneath you.”

Logan slowly extended his middle claw and Wade quickly skewered a marshmallow on it before he had the chance to pull away. 

“‘Atta boy.”

The slice to his palm from Logan’s other claw shooting out faster than he could dodge was totally worth it. 

The night cooled significantly as the sun dipped below the horizon, reminding Wade yet again why he hated camping. He scooted closer to the fire and pulled his hoodie on, wishing he’d been more willing to bear the heat earlier and worn pants instead of cargo shorts. At least he’d brought something warm to sleep in.

He felt a nudge against his arm as Logan brought his hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn and realized, with no small amount of embarrassment, that he must’ve accidentally shifted closer throughout the evening, seeking out the warmth Logan always put off like a moth to a flame. 

He tried to subtly pull back, folding his arms and leaning away so that he wasn’t encroaching on Logan’s space quite as much, but was unsuccessful at going unnoticed. Logan glanced at him, then back at the dwindling fire before announcing it was time for bed. 

Wade looked at his watch. Barely nine thirty, but he was exhausted from all the physical activity and fresh air. So were the kids, despite their meager protests, even while they yawned and rubbed their drooping eyes. 

“You don’t think they’re trying to Parent Trap us, do you?” Wade asked, after making sure the girls were all set with Logan’s lantern and strict orders not to stay up playing. It was highly unlikely, but the whole secretly switching tents thing did feel kinda suspicious. 

That was probably just his wishful thinking. Even if Gabby and Ellie had concocted some kind of wacky plan (and he didn’t put it past them), there was no way they’d get Laura to go along with it. He was still only about 74% sure she liked him, she definitely wasn’t trying to set him up with her dad. 

“I have no idea what that means,” Logan responded, taking Wade’s boots from him and shoving them into the same corner as his own. 

“Your complete lack of media knowledge is truly baffling to me. You’re like two hundred years old, how do you not know every reference ever? You were alive when the TV was invented!”

“I was a little busy being experimented on and brainwashed, then having my memories wiped for a few decades. Movie trivia isn’t at the top of my to-do list.”

“Psh who hasn’t been medically tortured by a secret government organization, amirite?” Wade said, pulling a thick sweater over his head. “You gotta make time for the things that spark joy.”

“Stabbing you sparks joy,” Logan said in that famous deadpan, although Wade took pride in the fact that he knew him well enough to hear the hint of a smile in his voice. 

“And I am so happy I can be that for you, but a girl’s gotta have more than one hobby.” 

Actually, Wade wouldn’t mind a little more stabbing in their relationship (and not just the kind you’re thinking of, you perv), it’d been months since they’d sparred together and aside from the occasional little nick like tonight, Logan hadn’t used his claws on him at all since then. He kinda missed it. 

Wade’s sleeping bag was supposed to be rated for subzero temperatures, but he was still shivering when he slipped into it. The problem was that once he got cold he tended to stay that way. Like it moved into his bone marrow and set up house with squatter’s rights and he was just the poor schmuck who owned the building. 

“Why’s it always so fucking cold no matter what time of year you go camping?” he complained, wrapping his arms around himself tighter, as if that would somehow magically work if he squeezed hard enough. 

“You need me to explain altitude t’you, bub?” Logan asked, stupid sarcastic tone grating on Wade’s exposed, frozen nerves. 

“No Logan, that was a rhetorical question. Your input is neither needed nor wanted, thank you.” Of course he wasn’t sympathetic to Wade’s plight, he wasn’t even wearing a goddamn shirt! It wasn’t fair. Wade bet his special organic, homegrown healing factor kept him warm and toasty. 

Must be nice. 

“You’re being a dick,” Logan stated, as if Wade didn’t know. As if pointing it out was going to make him feel less like being a dick

“It’s too cold to be anything else.” He tried to find a way to lay that didn’t feel like he was sleeping on the cold, hard ground, but his efforts were somewhat undermined by the fact that he was, in fact, sleeping on the cold, hard ground. “Remind me to say no next time you wildlings try to trick me into entering the forestry. Camping sucks.”

Logan heaved a heavy sigh and unzipped his sleeping bag, then leaned across the tiny tent to unzip Wade’s.

“What the fuck?” He shrieked, slapping at Logan’s hands ineffectively. “Were you not listening to what I just said? It’s fucking cold, man. You just let out the teensy-weensy amount of heat I had so painstakingly cultivated inside my cocoon.”

The fucker had the audacity to laugh, but didn’t stop in his endeavors to destroy all of Wade’s hard work. 

“Yeah, yeah, quit yer bitchin’.” 

Logan yanked him over to his side of the tent without waiting for a response, so that they were both lying on top of his sleeping bag, then tugged Wade’s bag on top of them. 

He pushed Wade over onto his side while Wade continued to complain and throw insults, and wrapped a thick, wonderfully warm, arm around his middle, aggressively spooning him so that they were touching at every possible point. He even tucked Wade’s feet between his calves so that they could thaw out and adjusted the sleeping bag so that it was tight and snug around Wade’s shoulders. 

This is some fanfiction shit if I’ve ever seen it.

If that were the case, we’d be naked. 

A shiver ran up his spine, despite the warmth Logan was slowly infusing him with. 

Logan must’ve felt it because he huffed like it was a chore, then slid his arm under Wade’s shirt, hiking it up to his armpits so he could plaster his furnace of a bare chest against Wade’s back. 

You were saying? 

It took a relatively short amount of time for Wade to thaw, and, once his bones no longer felt like they were made of ice, his attitude improved greatly. 

“Well now I feel like an ass,” he said, feeling a little guilty about maybe, possibly overreacting just a smidge. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“Guess I should apologize, huh?” 

“Mmhmm.”

A minute passed without him speaking up and Logan let him have another thirty seconds for good measure before he dug his fingers into Wade’s ribs, startling a gasping laugh from his lungs as he tried in vain to squirm away from the assault. Claws he’d been expecting, but tickling? That was new. And underhanded, even for Logan. 

His attempts to escape were fruitless, he was pinned in place by a metric fuckton of adamantium and muscle so instead had to resort to trying to catch Logan’s hands to stop the ruthless tickling. It was difficult considering his range of motion in that position was shit and he was too busy laughing and squirming to come up with any real defensive strategy other than pissing himself and he very much did not want to do that.

No surprise untagged watersports on my watch. 

“Nonononono I’msorryI’msorry,” he gasped, finally catching one of the cruel hands and linking their fingers together in a tight grip so Logan couldn’t get away. He continued to struggle for the other as it trailed up the sensitive skin of his side to his armpit, the featherlight touch just as bad, if not worse, than what he was doing before. “I didn’t mean it! I swear! I would love for you to mansplain altitude to me!” 

Logan’s snorted laugh was loud and hot against his ear and earned him just enough of a pause to gain the advantage, pressing close and slipping his arm under Logan’s, catching his wrist and clutching it to his chest as he rolled over onto his stomach so that he had both of Logan’s hands safe and immobilized, stuck between him and the ground. 

The maneuver also had the added benefit of pulling Logan fully on top of him from shoulder to hip, which was a non-problem in Wade’s book. Honestly, he’d call it a bonus.

“I accept your apology,” Logan told him, setting off another round of helpless giggles from Wade. When he finally recovered, he let one of Logan’s hands free in order to drag his pillow more solidly under his head where it’d gotten displaced during the scuffle, but kept the other solidly trapped beneath him. 

He laid his head down on the pillow and sighed, ready to go to sleep warm and happy and comfy. 

“Gotta let go, m’gonna crush you,” Logan said, his words warm across the back of Wade’s neck. He made like he was trying to get up, but Wade held firm.

“Nuh-uh, I like a weighted blankie. Especially one that’s heated.” He shimmied a little, snuggling into his pillow and aligning their bodies in a way that was hopefully as comfortable for Logan as it was for him.  

“Suit yourself,” Logan relented with a huff, but he still didn’t settle. He was bracing himself with his elbows and knees, not melting into Wade the way he was hoping for. 

“I know what you feel like on top of me, lay down,” Wade instructed, hoping the call out would do the trick. It didn’t. 

Logan let a little more of his weight rest against him, but Wade could still feel the tension in his body from holding back. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Wade said, hooking his ankle over the back of Logan’s leg while he pulled on the arm loosely wrapped around him. Logan lost his precarious balance, pitching forward and landing almost entirely on top of Wade. 

“Mmmm that’s better,” he said, sighing heavily as his body relaxed into the forced stillness. 

It was usually a race to see which one gave into exhaustion first, his body or his mind, both refusing to settle without a fight nearly every time he laid his head down, especially when there was a strong outside stimulus — like the cold for instance. The excuse of using sex to wear him out hadn’t just been a convenient plot device, it actually worked most of the time and recently, now that they’d moved into post-coital cuddling territory, he’d been sleeping like the dead more often than not for the first time in a very, very long time. 

If the Olympics did medals for cuddling, Logan would be bringing home the gold every damn time.

Once you could trick him into doing it, that is. 

“Comfy?” Wade mumbled, already halfway to dreamsville now that Logan’s body heat was radiating across nearly every inch of his body. 

His warm breath caressed the back of Wade’s neck pleasantly in a rhythmic, lulling pattern. 

“Yeah,” he replied, the word more a sigh than sound. “You?”

“Mmmhmm.”

Wade woke up cold and alone — not a new feeling, but somewhat unexpected since he’d fallen asleep next to the hottest man alive, both literally and figuratively. 

The tiny tent was empty, but Logan’s pillow still held a little bit of warmth. 

So not gone too long then. 

Wade tugged his boots on over his wool socks, not bothering to tie them, and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up before braving the subzero (mid-fifties) morning air. 

He found his mark without much effort, standing a few yards away from the campsite leaning against a tree, naked back to Wade. 

Wade shivered for him. 

Fucking psychopath. 

“Hey Tarzan, it’s fucking freezing. Come back to b—“ his words died on his tongue as he got closer and could finally see what Logan was looking at. 

Wade had never seen the sky look like that in real life before, or maybe he’d never really looked; either way, it took his breath away. The sun had just started to rise, not even cresting the peaks of the distant mountain ranges, but the light from it was setting the clouds on fire. Intense oranges and pinks spread out amongst the dark blue backdrop of the fading night. It looked more like a painting than something he was seeing in real life with his own two eyes. 

“Oh wow,” he breathed, something about the sight making him feel the need to whisper, like a loud noise might make it all suddenly go away. 

Logan reached his hand out, beckoning Wade closer to the edge of the mountain, out of the tree line where he could get a better view. 

Wade hesitated, looking down at his untied boots. He wasn’t trying to fall down a mountain this early in the morning. That would really put a damper on his plans for the day. (He had a theory that Wolverines could sniff out truffles the same way pigs do and he wanted to see how long it’d take him to get stabbed trying to find out). 

Logan huffed impatiently and before Wade knew what was happening he was being yanked over and manhandled to a spot unhealthily close to the edge, but with a view to die for (which I may very likely do if I slip). 

The anxious thought barely had time to float across his brain before he was being rearranged again, this time being pulled backward by the thick, muscular arms wrapped around his waist.

Things were getting dangerously romantic-adjacent.

“M’not gonna let’cha fall,” Logan told him, tightening his hold in what Wade would absolutely never acknowledge out loud was definitely a hug. 

Too fucking late for that. 

He exhaled, leaning back against Logan's chest, letting himself accept safety at someone else’s hands for once and finding that he didn’t hate it. 

After breakfast Gabby tore off her shoes and socks, tossing them carelessly in the direction of her tent and declared it “Wolverine training time.”

“What does that mean?” Wade asked, confused, but intrigued. 

“Tracking and stealth training,” Logan translated, sitting down to remove his own boots. 

Wade didn’t think bare feet were strictly necessary for tracking, but he could concede he wasn’t the expert here. 

“Can I be a Wolverine too? Pleeeease?” Ellie pleaded, looking back and forth between him and Logan. 

Wade tried not to let it sting, the excitement in her voice, the admiration in her wide brown eyes. He knew this day was coming, especially with her starting school at Xavier’s where she was exposed to so many more superheroes than just him. Real superheroes. She was bound to pick a new favorite eventually, once she was old enough to realize there were options. 

He guessed he couldn’t really blame her; Wolverine had been his favorite when he was a kid too. 

Still was. 

Even if he was slowly but surely ruining Wade’s life. 

Logan 

A blood curdling scream pierced the air and Ellie came charging at him, practically flying into his arms, yelling at him in a rushed mixture of Spanish and English to run away. 

“Hey, hey, calm down mielita, what happened?”

“Ellie found a snake!” Gabby explained excitedly, holding up a skinny, black snake that was almost longer than she was tall. It was surprisingly calm, given the situation, but Gabby tended to have that effect on animals. It wrapped itself around her arm for stability while she petted its white chin. 

Logan cringed but knew if he did anything quick or drastic it could end up making the situation worse, especially because Ellie was still freaking out, climbing around him to hide on his back, as far away from the snake as possible. 

“Gabs be careful,” he warned, not wanting her to get bit, even if it wouldn’t make much of a difference to her. 

“It’s just a rat snake — sorry Rupert, you’re not just a rat snake, you’re the longest, most handsomest squiggle ever,” she said directly to the snake. Rupert, for his part, appeared unfazed by the slight. 

She took a step forward to show them and Ellie screamed again, digging her heels into Logan’s sides painfully. 

“Stay over there sweetheart, Ellie doesn’t like it.”

“But he’s just a little guy, he won’t hurtcha.”

Ellie pulled at his sleeve until he lifted his arm for her and she wrapped her little hands around his wrist, pointing it towards Gabby.”

“Kill it! Quick before it eats her!”

“I’m not gonna kill it,” he said, diplomatically. Ellie let out a frustrated growl that sounded remarkably similar to one of Gabby’s. 

“I don’t wanna be a Wolverine anymore. I’m a Deadpool. I’m gonna kill it.” She wiggled like she was trying to get down, but Logan held onto her, trying to deescalate before the situation got any worse. 

“Noooooo!” Gabby took off running back in the direction of camp, clutching Rupert to her chest. 

So much for that plan. 

Logan groaned and started walking back at a somewhat more leisurely pace, trusting his daughter’s pretty infallible sense of direction. 

He tried reasoning with Ellie, hoping to calm her down before they reunited with Gabby and – more likely than not – Rupert. 

“She’s right y’know, he’s not gonna hurt you. He was probably just as scared of you as you were of him.” And now he’s been abducted and is probably wishing he’d slithered the other way. 

He was going to have to have the “keep wildlife wild” talk again before the end of this trip, he just knew it. 

“He touched my toes,” Ellie said, her tone indicating it was an offense of the highest degree. 

“I understand how that could be startling, but probably not a death sentence, yeah?”

“I guess so. But he's gross.”

“Still not a reason to kill him.”

“And he scared me.”

“Just because something’s scary doesn’t make it bad, y’know?” He reasoned. “Being a Deadpool means knowing the difference. We can’t go around killing everything that scares us. That doesn’t make it any less scary.”

She thought it over for a minute before asking, “What makes it less scary?”

He reached up and tapped her on the forehead.

“Knowledge. The more you know about something the less scary it becomes, usually. Smart girl like you shouldn’t have any trouble with that.”

Laura, who’d been watching from the sidelines, barely managing to keep a straight face, handed over her phone, a native wildlife webpage pulled up, a picture of a rat snake dangling from a tree staring back at them. Logan handed it up to Ellie and mouthed a silent “thank you,” to his eldest. 

He usually had a strict no cell phone policy on these trips but given the circumstances, he could make an exception. 

They arrived back at camp to find Gabby most of the way through animatedly recounting their tale to a captivated Wade, while he gently petted the snake’s white underbelly. 

Ellie shimmied down from Logan’s arms before he could reach the two of them, and Gabby, upon seeing this, clutched Rupert to her and ran around the tents shouting “don’t kill him!” 

Loudly. 

Logan caught her as she tried to run past him. 

Ellie caught up, waving the cell phone around. 

“I’m not gonna kill him anymore! Deadpools kill bad guys, and he’s not bad, just scary, but he’s not even scary anymore cuz I learned all about him. But I still think he’s gross. But that’s not a reason to kill someone.” She looked up at Logan for confirmation on that last one and he nodded. 

Wade raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. 

“Oh we’re a Deadpool again, are we?” He asked his daughter. 

She nodded and explained, “I want my shoes back,” shooting a scathing look at Rupert. 

“Well, I think we can safely assume we’ve scared off all the wildlife in a fifty mile radius with all that yelling,” Logan said. 

“Except Rupert!” Gabby interrupted. 

“Except Rupert,” he conceded. “So no more Wolverine-ing for today. How about we go fishing instead?”

Ellie jumped up and down excitedly. 

“Yes! But we gotta watch out for the Northern Watersnake, also known as Nerodia sipedon. They’re not venomous but they can be aggressive and they'll definitely bite.”

“Do they look like Rupert?” Gabby asked, holding the snake up as an example. Ellie subtly shifted away, but didn’t try to kill him this time, so Logan considered that progress. 

“No, they’re short, like you, and they can be brown or gray or tan or reddish and they have biiiiiig round eyes.” She held her hands up to her face, making two circles around her eyes as an example. “Not to be confused with the copperhead, or Agkistrondon contortix which are venomous. Which probably doesn’t matter cuz we all heal, but it might last long enough for the bite to turn black and all the skin to fall off and blood to ooze everywhere.” 

“You gave her the internet, didn’t you?” Wade whispered, letting the girls chitchat about necrosis while he and Logan grabbed the fishing gear. 

Logan shrugged, guiltily. 

“She was scared, thought it’d help.” 

Wade shook his head slowly back and forth and patted Logan on the shoulder in a consoletory fashion. 

“Oh boy, you are in for it now, buddy. Hope you like snakes, cuz you’re gonna hear about them for the rest of this trip.” 

“Will you catch Rupert a fish?” Gabby folded her hands under her chin and swayed back and forth, playing up her cuteness to get her way. 

“I think Rupert can probably catch his own fish. In fact, it’s probably time to let him go back to the wild, don’t you think?” The poor snake was probably permanently traumatized from this misadventure already, the least they could do was let him go process in peace. 

“Please daddy? Just an itsy bitsy one? He doesn’t have to eat it if he doesn’t want it. And then he can go whenever he wants,” she said, starting in on the negotiations. He accepted the terms of her request, figuring it was a small concession, and one he’d rather make than spend the next twenty minutes going back and forth about it. 

“One minnow, then you let him go, deal?” He held his hand out for her to shake and she took it quickly before he had a chance to change his mind. 

“Deal.”

Logan stripped his flannel off and removed his watch. 

“Alright gimme a sec; stand back from the water for a minute and no talking.”

“What are you—” Wade started to ask.  Logan cut him off with a shush. 

“I said no talking.”

He knelt down by the edge of the river, where there was a flat, rocky bit that overhung the water, and waited. He counted his breaths and watched the surface below him ripple with movement, waiting for the perfect moment. The key was not to hesitate. 

He plunged his hand into the chilly water, catching something smooth and small between his closed fingers. 

“No fucking way,” Wade said, disbelieving, when he said turned to the group triumphant. 

Logan ignored him and held his hand out to his youngest. 

“Here, go on and give it to him while it’s still alive; he probably won’t eat it if it’s dead.”

Gabby took the tiny fish carefully and cheerfully skipped back over to Rupert to provide him his dinner.

“How the hell did you do that?” Wade asked incredulously. Logan tried not to preen under the attention. He shrugged it off like it was nothing. 

“Practice.”

“But you can’t hunt me a deer,” Wade shot back, effectively deflating Logan’s ego. 

“Never said I can’t; I said I'm not going to,” he clarified. He wasn’t going to be goaded into harming an animal just to show off a skill Wade knew he had. 

“Mmhmm. Sure, sure.” Wade said, then added, to seemingly no one, “that’s what someone who can’t hunt a deer would say.”

Logan growled, annoyed despite knowing that he was only saying it to get a rise out of him. 

“That’s disgusting,” Wade complained a little while later, watching Logan bait his hook. 

“I watched you rip a man’s eyeball out of its socket and crush it in front of him last week but you can’t stomach live bait?” Logan retorted, quietly enough to be ignored by the crew still turning over dead logs in search of more worms. 

“He deserved it. These little guys though…” Wade made a gagging noise and took a large step backwards as Logan held up a handful of wiggling, dirt covered worms toward him. 

He found the whole scene absurdly endearing. So much so that he barely remembered to put up a fight before agreeing to bait all of Wade’s hooks to save him from having to break his insanely arbitrary moral code. In fact, he’d almost offered before Wade’d even had to ask. 

It was getting bad. 

Ellie, on the other hand, had no problem whatsoever with the worms, or the fish for that matter. It was impossible to tell if she was good at it because of the practice or if she had a natural gift, but whatever the case, by the time they were done she’d caught a total of five fish. Two had to be released back into the river to grow for a bit longer, but she was ecstatic regardless. 

Logan had abstained from doing any actual fishing himself once it was clear the girls wouldn’t have any trouble filling their bucket for dinner. Instead, he defaulted into teacher mode, helping with casts and hook removal when needed, dishing out encouragement and praise for a job well done, and answering as many of Ellie’s seemingly endless supply of questions as he could. 

By the third morning Logan was glad he’d opted for just a few days of camping instead of the week or two they usually did. Not because it was bad — the opposite, in fact. The kids were having the time of their lives, Laura seemed more relaxed than she’d been in months, and Logan hadn’t had a single noise-induced headache since they’d left city limits. In short, it was paradise. 

Which was entirely the problem. 

It was too good, too much like the kind of thing he’d never allowed himself to want and now that he’d gotten a taste of it — even just a small one — he was hooked. 

He might’ve been able to deal better if he wasn’t forced (allowed) to wake up to Wade in his arms every single morning. The first time he’d had to run away, get the fuck out of there and remind himself that it didn’t mean anything. It was something he had to do every time he woke up next to Wade, but it was harder here. Usually he could separate the two halves of his life with markers — hotel beds, no kids, unfamiliar surroundings — but he couldn’t do that here. These woods were as familiar to him as the mansion, practically his second home. 

Day two had been a similar scenario, but he’d been lucky that Wade had drifted in his sleep so that Logan just had to extricate his arm very, very slowly in order to not wake him up. 

Day three though… 

Day three was pushing the limits of his self-restraint. 

They’d fallen asleep the same way they had every night, with Logan half on top of Wade with the intent of keeping him warm. At some point in the night they’d become even more entangled. Half of Logan’s arm was wedged between Wade’s chest and the ground, Wade’s ankle was hooked over Logan’s calf, and the sleeping bag on top of them was tangled in a way physics couldn’t possibly have played a part in. 

There was no escaping without waking him up. 

Shit. 

He had to try anyway. He carefully slid his leg out from under Wade’s foot, pausing frequently to watch and listen for any sign of disturbance with the vigilance of a man defusing a bomb. The brief glimmer of hope that he felt when he’d succeeded in untangling their legs vanished in an instant as soon as he tried to move his arm. 

Wade let out a confused little noise, his eyelid fluttering half open before closing again. 

“Timesit?” He asked, words slurred and muffled due to half his face being obscured by his pillow. 

“Morning,” Logan answered, absolutely not thinking about how soft and pink Wade’s mouth looked right after waking up. 

He also definitely didn’t want to kiss the downturned corner of said mouth to make the frown forming there go away. 

“Need my arm back,” he said, giving his arm a gentle tug, much to Wade’s chagrin. He let out a whine and tugged back, trying to secure Logan's arm more firmly underneath him. 

“Come on, that can’t be comfortable.”

“Is. Y’r like a heating pad n’compression shirt all rolled inta one.” He nuzzled his face against his pillow, burrowing down further into the blankets in an attempt to prolong his sleep. If he would just let go, Logan would leave him in peace and he could continue being insufferably cute somewhere Logan didn’t have to witness it. 

He gave it fifteen more minutes, pressing his cheek to Wade’s shoulder blade, letting their breaths sync as he drifted. Images of lazy Sundays spent lounging in bed and of barely making the bell because it’s impossible to say no to a clingy, needy Wade clouded his thoughts; fantasies that he knew better than to indulge. 

“Time to get up,” he said eventually, unable to withstand the self-imposed torture any longer. 

Wade finally released his arm, rolling over with a pleased hum and stretching out beneath Logan before he had a chance to move away. 

It took a Herculean effort not to lean down and kiss his grinning mouth. 

“Wow, is this how normal people feel when they wake up?”

“Dunno,” Logan replied, clearing his throat and putting a little space between them (though not going so far as to sit up). “You’d have to find one and ask them.” 

“Gonna have to hire you as my personal pain reliever.”

Logan furrowed his brow, eyes scanning Wade for any signs of injury. 

“You in pain?”

“Not anymore,” Wade answered, folding his arms behind his head. Logan didn’t like that answer. 

“But you were?” He asked, though trying to get a straight answer out of Wade was like pulling teeth generally. 

“Uh, yeah, constantly.” His tone implied an added “duh” at the end of that sentence, though Logan wasn’t sure how he was supposed to’ve known that. He didn’t act like he was constantly in pain, though, if he really thought about it, Logan could remember a few random throw away remarks and off the wall jokes that’d hinted at it. It was hard to know when to take the things that came out of his mouth seriously or not. 

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You never said.” He hoped that was actually true and it wasn’t something Wade had shared years ago that an angry (and probably drunk) Logan had written off as attention seeking. 

Wade shrugged, not seeming all that bothered by the fact that Logan didn’t know this about him. In fact, he kind of looked like he regretted saying anything at all. He shifted a little, but Logan was still half over top of him, impeding his attempt at escape. 

“Why would I? You go around telling your frenemies all your weaknesses?”

“That what we are?”

The words slipped out of his mouth unintentionally, and once they were out there was nothing he could do to put them back in again. 

This is why I shouldn’t let myself daydream. 

It wasn’t a question he wanted to hear the answer to, because he knew the answer wouldn’t be the one he wanted. He’d learned long ago how to not let his feelings show though, so he kept his face neutral, his body relaxed, even as his chest felt like it might be about to implode. 

Wade bit his lip, eyes narrowing as he looked up at Logan, probably thinking of a way to answer that wouldn’t make things awkward for the next day and a half they were stuck together. 

Finally, after what felt like forever but was in reality probably only a few seconds, Wade shook his head slightly, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

“Nah, none of my enemies hate me enough to make me go camping for a week.”

Logan laughed, tension seeping out of his shoulders, even as a pang of disappointment settled in the pit of his stomach. He ignored it, like he did every time he left an opening and Wade immediately closed it. 

Maybe one of these days he’ll stop hoping for anything else.  

He pushed himself up and off of Wade, settling down next to him instead.

“It’s only been three days, and we’re leaving in the morning,” he reminded him. Wade wiggled his toes pointedly. 

“The week’s worth of blisters my feet have healed say otherwise.”

Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Toldja to bring better shoes.” Multiple times, in fact. At least he’d opted to leave the goddamn crocs at home, though it’d taken several threats of violence and one threat to throw the damn things away before Wade had relented. 

Wade let out a frustrated groan, gesturing towards where his combat boots were laying in the corner next to Logan’s more sensible hiking boots.  

“Those boots have been through literal war, I thought they could handle a mountain,” he complained – like they hadn’t had this exact same conversation before they’d left. 

“Maybe next time listen to your elders.” 

That made Wade laugh, head tilted back, body stretching out beside him. He turned towards Logan, still smiling. 

“Next time I’m introducing you to the wonderful world of glamping. Men your age shouldn’t be sleeping on the ground, it’s not good for your joints.”

Next time. 

Logan would gladly make a few concessions to their sleeping arrangements if it meant doing this again – not that he was going to tell him that. 

He raised a judgemental eyebrow at the age comment, looking Wade up and down. 

“You know you’re not thirty anymore, right?”

Wade gasped, clutching his imaginary pearls. 

“How dare you! Don’t you know it’s rude to mention a lady’s age? Besides, I’m still a spring chicken compared to you.”

He wasn’t wrong there. Logan had nearly a century on him. 

He tried not to think about it too hard. 

Wade 

“You should try blinking,” Laura said, sneaking up behind him where he’d been sitting on a soft patch of grass, trying to make a flower crown out of wildflowers. “Makes you look less like a creep.”

He quickly looked down at his pile of wilting flowers that he hadn’t touched in several minutes and lied. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She made a derisive sort of sound, letting him know she didn’t buy his bullshit for one second. She plopped down next to him cross-legged and started sorting his flowers into piles by color. 

“You’ve been staring at my dad for the last twenty minutes.” She said it like a casual observation, but Wade heard it for the accusation it was. 

Fuck.  

“Have not,” he said in defense, a little too fast to be believable. “I just zoned out in his general direction.” The excuse was flimsy, at best. 

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

He waited for the inevitable telling off, for her to point out how gross it was for him to have such an obvious crush on her dad, how Logan was waaaaaaay out of his league, how ridiculous it was for him to even imagine someone like that would be into someone like him, but the seconds dragged on into minutes and nothing more was said about his staring problem. 

Finally, Laura opened her mouth to speak and he braced for impact. 

“Teach me?” She held up a couple of daisies, gesturing to his own projects. 

He smiled, relieved and excited for the chance to contribute something to this very Wolverine-centric vacation. He relaxed incrementally as helped her get started on her own crown before going back to the one he’d abandoned in favor of watching Logan supervise the girls as they tried to one up each other on the rope swing. 

It was that smile that was his undoing. He couldn’t stop looking at it. It was such a bizarre, foreign sight, something he knew was possible in the abstract, but never imagined he’d bear witness to with his own two eyes. The difference was striking, like there were two different Logans, the ferocious Wolverine, who Wade was more than familiar with, and then there was this. This soft, beautiful creature, with a face all crinkles and brightness, as if happiness came so naturally to him. Before this year, he could’ve counted on one hand the number of times he’d heard Logan laugh – really laugh, like deep down, uncontrollable, pure joyous laughter – but now… now he’d heard it too many times to count. Sometimes it was even his own doing, which made Wade swell with pride and other unnamable emotions each and every time it happened. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it. 

He kinda hoped he wouldn’t. 

He risked another quick glance, unable to help himself, and was immediately caught, this time by Logan himself. He was still smiling, this one softer, quieter, but no less beautiful in Wade’s humble opinion. Wade looked away, turning his attention back to his crafts lest he do something stupid like swoon. 

Logan carefully placed his crown of cornflowers between the pages of one of the many books he’d brought on their trip while Wade zipped up the tent. Wade had lost his own crown ages ago after coming to the harsh realization that clover wasn’t the best choice for someone with an aversion to bees. Shoulda gone basic like Laura and stuck with daisies. She’d taken hers off before dinner, but the girls and (much to Wade’s eternal delight) Logan had kept theirs on all the way until bedtime.  

Wade had soooooo many new photos to print out when he got back home. His favorites were one of Logan and Laura sitting with their backs to him watching the sunset – he’d managed to catch the light just right coming through the trees and splashing them both with a warm pink glow – and the lucky shot he’d gotten when a kaleidoscope (it’s the correct term, look it up) of butterflies swarmed around Ellie and Gabby, trying to take a few sips from their matching crowns of pretty pink milkweed. 

He got changed quickly, looking forward to Logan’s body heat chasing the cold from his bones for another night. That was probably the only part of camping he was going to miss.  

He fidgeted for a bit, rearranging the sleeping bag over his shoulders and the pillow under his head while he waited for Logan to force him still with a tight bearhug or simply by laying on top of him. Either would do, he wasn’t picky. 

Instead, the man seemed to be stalling, still sitting up on his knees closer to the foot of their “bed.” 

“What are you doing?” Wade finally asked, more than ready to hurry up and get to the good part. 

“Waiting for you to settle the fuck down. Are you done yet?”

“Maaaaybe. Why?” Wade asked suspiciously. 

Instead of offering any kind of answer, Logan stretched out in the opposite direction on top of the sleeping bag and reached under it to grab one of Wade’s feet. Wade jolted at the unexpected touch and would’ve kicked Logan in the face if it hadn’t been for the tight grip he had on Wade’s ankle, clearly expecting the flail. 

“What’re you doing?” There weren’t a lot of possible answers to that question, but all of them seemed as preposterous as the next to Wade. 

“Long walk tomorrow,” Logan replied, which, Wade wanted to point out, wasn’t actually an answer to his question. Not that it took a genius to put two and two together. 

He resisted the urge to try to yank his foot away, since that move had already proven itself to be futile.  

Uuugggghhhhhhh!

Should’ve kept your mouth shut.

That’s pretty much a given in all situations.

He pressed his fingertips into his forehead.

“See, this is why I don’t tell people. I’m perfectly capable of—”

“Wouldja just let someone do something nice for you, for fucks sake? Why d’you always have to make it so difficult?” Logan snapped, more exasperated than angry. Or maybe he was just tired. 

Yeah, tired of you. 

Wade didn’t have a good answer for him, so kept his mouth shut for once. He startled again for a second time when Logan’s other hand wrapped around his heel and his thumbs started to dig into the pad of his foot. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Logan mumbled, almost too quiet for Wade to make out over the noise of the forest. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Huh? 

“Do what?”

He felt Logan’s sigh on the top of his foot. 

“Flinch every time I touch you.”

“I don’t do that,” Wade denied, flipping back through his memories to try and remember if he did in fact do that. He didn’t think so. 

“Maybe not every time, but you do. A lot.” Logan dragged his thumb down the sole of Wade’s foot, starting on his heel. “I know it’s my own fault–”

“How could that possibly be your fault?” Wade interrupted, confused. It was a little difficult to concentrate on what he was saying when his hands were working some kind of magic on Wade’s sore feet, but he tried to stay focused. This was obviously something that had been on Logan’s mind for a while. 

“I’ve stabbed you, beat the shit out of you, damn near killed you more than once. There’s probably less than a handful of people alive that’ve experienced violence from me the way that you have.”

“Aww now I’m jealous,” Wade teased, though the swoopy feeling in his stomach belied the insincerity in his voice. “I thought I was special. At least tell me they didn’t mean anything.”

 “I’m serious.”

“So am I. It’s not like I’ve been a passive participant here; you could say the same thing about me. Okay, so the damn near killing might be closer to once, but I definitely win in the ‘number of bullets I’ve put inside you’ category,” Wade pointed out. 

“Doesn’t matter who came out on top,”

“Wink,” he interrupted, verbalizing it and actually physically winking. He couldn’t see Logan’s response, but he bet it was an eyeroll. 

“Doesn’t make it right just cuz you hurt me back.”

Doesn’t make it wrong either…

“I dunno if I agree with that, but regardless, it’s irrelevant. That’s not why I flinch. It’s got nothing to do with you, sweetcheeks, don’t worry your pretty little ear tufts about it.” 

That was mostly true. Most of the time it wasn’t about who was touching him, it was just the fact that he was being touched at all. People didn’t do that, not anymore, so it was sometimes jarring when Logan did it so casually, and so often. He still didn’t think it was frequent enough for Logan to’ve been keeping track.  

“I don’t believe you,” Logan told him. 

Wade wished they were talking about literally anything else. 

“Honest, my body just does that no matter who’s touching it, it just seems like it’s only you because you only see you doing it. It’s like survivorship bias or whatever.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Okay,” Logan responded, all inflection gone from his voice. 

“I'm serious.” 

“Okay.” 

That was the tone Logan used when he thought he was being lied to but was too passive aggressive to keep arguing. 

Wade pressed the back of his head into the pillow, glaring up at the dark blue ceiling of their tent. He wanted to put it over his face and scream, possibly go all the way and smother himself instead. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Logan already thought he was a loser and he didn’t need to add sad and pathetic onto that assessment as well, even if it was true. He didn’t need or want Logan’s pity. 

He also didn’t want his guilt though, or, worst-case scenario, for Logan to stop touching him altogether, and the only way to clear that up was to offer an explanation and tell the truth. 

“M’not used to people touching me,” he said plainly, voice as void of emotion as he could make it. He wasn’t asking for sympathy, just trying to clear the air. 

“I touch you all the time.” 

And what a miracle that is. 

“I don’t mean sex,” not that anyone else is touching me sexually either, “I just mean in general, all those little casual touches everyone takes for granted don’t happen to me anymore. Not since,” he gestured up and down his body, knowing now that Logan would be able to see it. 

“People go out of their way to avoid standing next to me on the subway or in crowded elevators, always leave plenty of space when walking past on the sidewalk. Waitstaff put my order on the counter instead of handing it to me, lest they accidentally touch my naked fingies. Clients used to go out of their way to not shake my hand if I wasn’t in the suit. I actually once snuck half an arsenal into a nightclub because I was wearing a plunging neckline and a short skirt and the bouncer didn’t want to pat me down – big mistake on his part.” 

“You’re not missin’ out on bein’ groped on the subway or half molested every time you just wanna get a drink. ‘Sides, all that’s irrelevant to why you’re flinchin’ with me. I’m not some asshole stranger, I’m your friend.” 

There was a pause before he got out the word “friend” and Wade wasn’t sure how to take that, especially in light of this morning’s “that what we are” comment. Was that what they were? Was that what Logan wanted them to be? This wasn’t the time to ask. One crisis at a time. 

“Sorry, I don't think I’m making myself clear. It’s not just strangers. It’s business partners and acquaintances, and yeah, even friends.” As few and far between as they may be. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I don’t understand; this whole ensemble is very offputting, I don’t blame them for wanting to steer clear.” 

“You’re not fuckin’ contagious or somethin’,” Logan said, indignant on Wade’s behalf, which was appreciated, if not actually warranted.

Wade shrugged. There was really nothing he could say to that. Logan was either being uncharacteristically naive or deliberately obtuse and he didn’t really feel like arguing about why it made complete and total sense for people to not want to touch him and how Logan was actually the weird one for being so cool with it. 

“It is what it is.”

“It’s bullshit, is what it is.” 

Wade sighed. 

“I dunno, part of me thinks it’s the universe’s fucked up way of making up for all the unwelcome non-con touch it’s thrown at me. Least I don’t have to worry about that ever happening again. Anyhoo, whatever, look, I’m just telling you how it is. Casual touch isn’t something I’m used to anymore, so sometimes it takes a sec for my body to register it as something other than a threat. Like I said, it’s not you.” 

They fell into an awkward quiet while Logan continued his world class massage and Wade’s brain did what it did best and replayed their entire conversation, pointing out each and every way he’d fucked it up and all the places he could’ve just lied and made himself seem like a slightly less pathetic piece of shit. 

“I ever act like that?” He asked, finally breaking the silence. 

Wade laughed. Of all the things Logan could’ve said, he hadn’t been expecting that. That’s was what he’d been silently brooding about? Whether or not he’d ever treated Wade like a leper? 

 Fuck Wade was so gone on this man. 

“Nah, you’ve never been shy about laying your hands on me — even if it is usually in anger.” He glanced down to where Logan’s hands had moved on from his feet and slowly found their way under his sweatpants and up his calves, even though it was too dark to make out anything more than his silhouette. “Or was, I guess I should say. Not so much anymore.” 

“M’sorry,” Logan responded quietly, giving a gentle squeeze to Wade’s ankle.

Nope. Nu-uh. Not doing that tonight. 

“Don’t start, please, cuz if you start apologizing for shit then I’m gonna have to start apologizing for shit and before you know it the sun’ll be up. Past is the past, Peanut. Water under the bridge, agreed?”

He could feel Logan’s eyes on him even though he couldn’t see them, taking his time before finally responding. 

“Guess I can live with that, if you can.”

“Great. Glad that’s settled.”

The silence that followed felt less oppressive than before, meaning Wade could resist the urge to fill it and just focus instead on the massage and just how fucking good it felt. Logan had moved past his socks, smooth palms cradling his calf while his fingertips kneaded the soreness from his tight muscles. 

Who woulda guessed that a mundane camping trip would provide Wade with the most skin to skin contact without the imminent promise (or even possibility) of sex he’d had in years? Not Wade, that’s for damn sure. 

“If I hear one word of complaint outta you on that trail tomorrow, I’m throwing you off this mountain. Got it?” Logan announced after thirty more minutes or so of massage bliss. 

Ahhh there’s my Wolvie back. 

“Complaining in general or specifically about my feet hurting? Because I can promise not to do the latter, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do to get rid of the mosquitoes and I reserve the right to react with a proportional response to being eaten alive.” 

Logan sighed, (finally) taking his designated spot behind Wade. 

“Guess I can only ask for so much.” 

He pulled the sleeping bag up over their shoulders and molded his body to Wade’s. 

“You warm enough like this?” Logan asked softly, running one hand up and down the side of his arm. 

“Getting there,” Wade replied, not wanting to sound ungrateful. The massage had been heavenly, but it’d meant he was without his personal heater for long enough that the cold had really settled in. It was gonna take a while before even Logan’s furnace-level warmth managed to kick it out. 

Logan hummed, then sat up, dislodging the sleeping bag as he went. Wade rolled over to ask what he was doing, but before he had the chance to Logan was pulling him into an upright position and slipping his shirt off over his head. 

“Hey!” He started to object, but closed his mouth when Logan pressed two fingers against it. 

“Hush; put this on.” He said it like Wade had a choice, but his hand was already on Wade’s wrist, guiding it through the sleeve of what Wade recognized as the cloud soft hoodie he always stole from the back of Logan’s seat on long car drives. He hadn’t even noticed he’d brought it along. 

He finished helping Wade into the jacket, leaving it unzipped in the front and gently smacking Wade’s hands away when he tried to do it up himself. 

“How is this better than what I was wearing if you’re not gonna let me zip it? My shoulders are warm but my nipples could cut glass here.”

“Stop being dramatic. Trust the process.”

He’s been hanging around us too long.

He pushed Wade back down, so that they were laying side by side again, only this time facing each other, then pressed in close, slipping his arms around Wade’s back underneath the hoodie and tucking his head underneath Wade’s chin. 

Wade pulled the sleeping bag back up around them, hoping Logan wouldn’t be kept awake by the noise of his heart beating out of his chest. This position was more intimate than he’d been prepared for, especially after he’d just word vomited all of his touch-starved trauma onto the man. He couldn’t help wondering if Logan had picked it because he was feeling sorry for him, or if he was actually comfortable being this close without the reward of an orgasm being on the table. 

You know which one it is. He feels sorry for your pathetic ass. 

“Stop thinkin’ so loud n’ go t’sleep,” Logan ordered, breath hot and damp against his collarbone, lips brushing the scarred skin ever so slightly as they moved. 

“Just thinking about the air mattress I’m buying you for Christmas,” he lied. Logan huffed. 

“That’ll go real well when I have a nightmare and slice it to shit,” Logan grumbled, voice already gone deep and gravely with sleepiness. Wade’s hand found its way into his hair and began the gentle scritches that were a guarantee to send him off to sleep. 

“Nah it’ll be fine,” he said, lowering his voice to just over a whisper. “I’ll just hold your hands all night, then you can stab me instead.”

“Rather stab a cheap piece of plastic than you.”

Well if he hadn’t been warm before, that certainly lit up his insides. Not that Wade would’ve minded a stab or two here and there. 

“A few little pinpricks is a small price to pay for the luxury of not sleeping on rocks. Besides, those things are not cheap,” he argued, but was cut off. 

Logan made a rumbly noise, too soft and cute to be a growl, and shifted onto his back without letting Wade out of his tight embrace so that he was situated on top of his chest, between his legs. He pushed at Wade’s shoulders until he scooted down just enough to use Logan’s chest as a pillow. 

Dreams really do come true. 

“Not sleepin’ on rocks now. Go t’sleep.” 

Wade would’ve made a joke about sleeping on marble instead, but those rock hard abs made a surprisingly comfortable mattress. Add to that the soft rumble emanating from the ribcage beneath his ear and Wade had very little trouble following that order. 

Maybe this camping thing wasn’t so bad after all. 

A few days later, in a hotel bed in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska, Wade reached for the button on the headboard that would turn the side lamps off and paused. 

“So.”

He looked up at Logan, who was naked and kneeling between his legs, watching with one eyebrow raised as he waited for Wade to continue. 

“You can see in the dark,” Wade stated. Because that was a fact, apparently. 

“Yup.”

“Since forever.”

“Since forever,” Logan confirmed. 

Wade's stomach clenched; he’d still been holding out a sliver of hope that it’d all been a joke or an exaggeration or a white lie to cover his callous remark about the nightlight. 

Fuck. 

“So turning the lights out hasn’t helped at all,” he said, thinking back to all those times he’d laid there, just like he was now, thinking he was safe to enjoy himself without the weight of his self-consciousness bearing down on him. 

What a fucking idiot. 

Logan’s eyebrows pulled together, forehead scrunching up adorably. 

“Helped with what?”

Wade gave him a “are you serious?” look and gestured to his whole self. 

“Having to stomach seeing all of this.” 

Logan’s expression turned annoyed.  

“What gave you the impression that’s been a problem for me? Give me one example.”

Wade opened his mouth to reply, then paused. 

He was going to bring up how he left Wade’s clothes on sometimes, but the only examples he could remember were when they’d been too high on adrenaline after a job to bother even making it to the bed, let alone getting fully naked. 

Then there was his penchant for fucking Wade from behind, but he realized he didn’t actually give Logan a choice most of the time, always rolling over before he had a chance to ask, so he wasn’t entirely sure that was Logan’s preference, or if he was just indulging what Wade pretended to want. 

Okay, but what about…

…

 He closed his mouth. 

“You can’t, because it’s not. If I didn’t wanna see you naked, I wouldn’t be fucking you,” Logan told him plainly, a smug smirk on his face. 

Intellectually, Wade knew that, didn’t he? He wasn’t making Logan fuck him, the man had a choice. Plenty of choices. 

And yet he kept choosing Wade. 

He didn't realize how badly he needed to actually hear it out loud – in so many words – until those words were coming out of Logan’s mouth. 

Oh. That's… nice. 

Wait. 

“Then why did you let me turn the lights out if all it was doing was making it so I couldn't see you?” Wade asked incredulously. 

What the fuck? Why have I been the only one suffering here?! 

Because you’re an idiot? 

Shut up, no one asked you. 

Logan shrugged and looked away for the first time, neck heating with a sweet pink flush that made Wade’s mouth water. 

“Maybe you didn’t wanna see me.”

Wade snorted, feeling giddy and ridiculous — almost as ridiculous as that thought. He sat up, shaking his head. 

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. God you’re stupid. Hot, but so fucking stupid.” He looped his arms around Logan’s neck, slipping his fingers into his hair and tugging him forward into a kiss. He curled his tongue up, licking at Logan’s pallet before biting down on his lip and tugging as he pulled away. 

He laid back down and folded his arms behind his head. 

“You owe me a show, or twenty. Get to it.”

Chapter Text

Beginning of August

Wade

The summer had flown by way faster than Wade would’ve liked. He was usually an autumn girlie, at his core, but this particular summer had some very specific perks that he wasn’t ready to give up yet. Namely, spending almost every day with Logan, in one way or another. 

Sure there would still be the weekends, but Logan would probably be busy with leftover work stuff or wanting to relax and he definitely wouldn’t want to do that with Wade. 

And then there was the issue of the missions. Not really an "issue" per se – because he is retired – but like, he was kinda enjoying being back in the game (selectively) with a babysitter handler partner. But he expected them to stop completely now that school was about to start back up, or at the most be a once-in-a-blue-moon sort of situation. 

And worst of all:

No more getting dicked down on the regular by the man of his dreams.

He scrubbed a hand over his head, sloshing the warm water around. 

Goddammit. 

He never should’ve let himself get used to it. He knew better. 

He turned the shower off and took a deep breath, trying to clear his head of the melancholy that was starting to move in. The last thing he needed was Logan asking why he was moping. 

He sighed. 

Shit. 

He already missed it and it wasn’t even over yet.

The sight he was met with when he opened the bathroom door etched itself into his brain instantly. Core memory made and locked in. 

Hooo-ly shit.

Well, if this is the end, this sure is a helluva finale.

Logan was stretched out on the bed, gloriously naked and on display. He had an arm bent behind his head, showing off his broad chest while his other hand was wrapped loosely around his cock, as if waiting for Wade to get out of the shower before fully investing.  

“Getting started without me?” Wade asked, proud of how steady it came out. 

His shoulder raised lazily. 

“You were taking too long,” Logan said, not looking the least bit self-conscious about being caught. 

And why would he? If I looked like that I’d be taking out billboard ads. 

“Well if I’d known what was waiting for me, I wouldn’t’ve bothered washing my hair.”

Logan laughed, just a small huff of breath and a crooked tilt to his mouth, but it made Wade’s stomach do somersaults all the same. Or maybe something a little higher up. 

You’re so beautiful. 

“You gonna keep standing there gawking or you gonna come give me a hand?”

Wade didn’t have to be told twice. He let go of the too small towel wrapped around his waist, letting it drop to the floor before placing a knee on the bed and reaching for Logan’s bent leg, placing a kiss on the inside of his calf. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want, babygirl.”

Logan grinned. 

“Whatever I want?”

You have no idea. 

He stretched out over top of Logan, slotting their bodies together, and kissed the hinge of his jaw.

“Anything,” he promised, placing another soft, sensual kiss at the base of Logan’s ear. 

“Fuck me.”

Wade froze, record skipping inside his brain. He pulled back enough to look Logan in the face. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, hoping he meant it as a request and not just a turn of phrase.

The change was nearly imperceptible, but Wade saw it, the way his question made Logan’s walls come back up in an instant, blankness replacing the playful spark that had been lighting up his eyes previously. 

Wade wanted to kick himself. 

“Nevermind, forget it.” He shook his head dismissively and looked away, pushing at Wade’s hip and moving as if to reverse their positions. 

Wade’s brain kicked back into gear. 

“Whoawhoawhoa slow your roll, kitty cat, I wasn’t saying no. That is a one hundred percent, emphatic yes.” He put a hand on Logan’s shoulder, guiding him back down to the bed. “I would never say no to that. Legitimately, if I ever say no to that something is seriously wrong. Like, catastrophically wrong. Probably some kinda brain-eating amoeba sitch—”

“Okay! I get it. Jesus.”

Logan huffed, like he was doing Wade a favor. (Which, he kinda was, whether he saw it that way or not.) 

Yeah, this is definitely the last time we’re doing this. If this isn’t a farewell present, I don't know what is.

He stared down at Logan, noting the way the tension was bleeding from his features by the second.

“Sooooo…” Wade started after an awkwardly long pause, unsure how to finish that sentence. He wasn’t really sure how Logan wanted to go about doing this, and the man wasn’t exactly dropping any hints or throwing out signals by just laying there staring up at Wade like they’d done this a thousand times already. 

“You need a manual or somethin’?” Logan asked, eyebrow raised, sounding more like his usual, cocky self. 

Okay. Wasn’t expecting the pillow princess vibes. That’s okay. That’s good. 

We’ve got this. 

Don’t fuck it up. 

“You know how I feel about instructions. And reading. I prefer a more hands-on approach,” Wade said with a wink. A show of bravado that he didn’t actually feel. 

Fake it til you make it, amirite? 

Logan touching him that first time had been a literal dream come true, same with the blowjobs. Logan fucking him had been the actual definition of fantasy — the kind of thing he barely dared to dream about, like imagining yourself with a celebrity, fun and hot but not something you’re even remotely delusional enough to think might happen. 

This though… even Wade’s impressive imagination didn’t dare to go there (except on very, very rare occasions when he was feeling particularly delusional). 

Needless to say, he was a bit unprepared, and just a smidge nervous. 

But Wade was nothing if not the king of improv. Besides, he knew all the lines and the stage direction, he just had a new scene partner. 

He could do this. 

“You good?” Logan asked a couple minutes later, judgement painting every inch of his face as he watched Wade nearly brain himself on the dresser trying to get to the lube and back between Logan’s legs before Logan could get cold feet again. 

It was the kind of look that pissed Wade off in the field but made him want to get on his knees and beg in bed and it wasn’t helping his current situation one bit. 

“Yeah, I got it.”

Wade’s thumb flicked uselessly at the lube cap a couple of times before it finally caught, nerves and adrenaline making his hands unsteady. 

Logan’s already thin patience reached its limit. 

“For fuck’s sake, I’ll do it myself,” he huffed, sitting up and reaching for the bottle. Wade batted his hand away and pushed him back down, a little more forcefully than he’d meant to, nerves taking a backseat to his wounded pride. He was not going to miss out on his (probably) one and only chance at this. 

“I said I’ve got it,” he snapped, also a little more forceful than intended. 

He pressed down on Logan’s chest, looming over him, catching the heat in Logan’s suddenly wide eyes and slight pant from his open mouth. He made a half-assed attempt to resist, pushing up against Wade’s hand nowhere near as hard as he could. Taking a chance, and hoping to god he wasn’t reading things wrong, Wade pushed back, harder, putting more of his bulk into it and letting gravity do the rest. 

Logan licked his lips and stayed down.

The chest under his palm rose and fell rapidly. 

“Okay?” Wade asked, tone firm like before but offering a chance for Logan to tell him to fuck off if that wasn’t the way he wanted to play this. 

(Wade would give him literally anything, all he had to do was ask). 

Logan nodded and swallowed hard, still a little breathless and hard as marble against Wade’s thigh. 

“Okay.”

A grin spread across Wade’s lips. 

Oh. 

This he could definitely do. 

“Good boy.” 

Wade half expected to be gutted for the tease, but to his surprise, Logan didn’t move, didn’t do anything except relax further into the bed, knees falling slightly wider apart in invitation for Wade to continue. 

So he did. 

“How do you want it?” he asked, not expecting much more than a couple of mumbled words at best. He didn’t need a lot of direction, just something he could use as a jumping off point so he didn’t immediately start on the wrong foot by trying to get Logan into a position he despised. 

Logan shrugged one shoulder noncommittally. 

“However.”

Okay, that was even less helpful than he’d expected, and the bar was on the floor. 

“What? No, you gotta have a preference,” Wade insisted. If he was only getting one chance at fucking the Wolverine he was determined to make it perfect – or, as close to it as possible.  

Logan huffed through his nose, obviously not appreciating the level of communication Wade was offering here. 

“How can I have a preference? Dunno what you’re good at.”

Wade rolled his eyes. 

Now he’s just being difficult to be difficult. 

On brand.  

“Don’t need to know what I’m good at to know what you like. Just assume I’m good at everything. Because I am.”

“Doubtful.”

Wade smirked. 

He might be riddled with insecurities, even on the best of days, but he knew his strengths just as well as he knew his weaknesses. He was good at pleasing a partner. What he lacked in good looks he made damn sure to make up for in skill and enthusiasm. Logan would be eating those words by the time this night was over.

“It’s okay to say you’ve never been fucked good enough to’ve developed preferences,” he teased. “I like a clean slate.”

“You cocky bastard. What makes you think—” Logan’s words cut off abruptly as Wade flipped him over onto his stomach. 

“Shhh sugarpie, you had your chance to make requests and you passed. Now it’s my turn. I’m thinking we’ll start with some classics then move on from there. Feel free to chime in when we find something you have an opinion about.”

“Trust me, I will,” Logan grumbled, but he made no move to do anything about the manhandling, or the teasing for that matter, much to Wade’s delight. 

The weight of the situation, the nerves, all of it melted away now that he had a direction, a role to play. He could do this. He could show Logan that he knew him better than anyone else, that Wade could give him what he couldn’t get from some rando off the street, could take care of him like no one else could. 

Calm down, Romeo. This is just sex. Don’t forget that. 

I’m not. But if it happens to be so good he forgets about everyone else, then so be it. 

He started slow, making his way down Logan’s back, mouthing at each and every knob of his spine while his fingers followed the hard lines of his musculature, applying pressure here, softly stroking there, making the body beneath him shiver. 

“Get on with it,” Logan bit out, sounding way too breathless to be giving orders, in Wade’s humble opinion. 

He paused with his mouth hovering over a small, faint mole a little to the left of the base of Logan’s spine. He’d found it about a month ago and become instantly obsessed; the man didn’t have any scars or blemishes, no imperfections to admire or reassure him about, not even a freckle, but he did have a total of three moles (as far as Wade had been able to find so far) that must’ve existed since before his mutation kicked in, early enough that his healing factor considered them part of the blueprint when doing repairs. 

Wade was a little bit in love with them.

Just the moles? 

Shut up.  

“Why?” he responded to Logan’s demand, warm breath ghosting over the small circular mark. “You got somewhere else to be?”

He was met with silence.

Wade grinned and pressed another soft kiss against his skin.  

“That’s what I thought. Now, I know this is difficult for you, but relax. I’ll get you where you wanna go, promise, just wanna enjoy the scenic route.”

He gave Logan a generous three seconds to object, then went right back to it at his own leisurely pace. 

He palmed at the perfect ass in front of him, lingering only long enough for Logan to start pressing back into his touch, then forced himself to move on (though he honestly could’ve stayed there all night. He had so, so many plans for that ass). 

He scraped his fingernails across those hairy thighs, down and then back up, gradually applying more pressure after hearing the way it made Logan’s breath hitch. One hand worked its way between them, pleased to discover Logan fully hard and dripping onto the bed clothes below; despite his impatient protests. 

Logan’s knees spread further apart – whether intentional or from slipping on the buttery soft comforter Wade couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t matter the reason, the result was the same – a perfect fucking meal begging to be had. He swallowed down the desperate little whimper in the back of his throat, along with his drool, and gave in to the intrusive thoughts. 

Logan

“When was the last time someone ate you out?” 

“Mmhuh?” His brain registered the words on a delay, too lost in enjoying the fading sting of Wade’s teeth where he’d just bitten down hard on his left asscheek. “Oh, um, I dunno, the seventies? I don’t remember.” 

Why would he want to think about the last time anyone else did anything to him when he had Wade in his bed right now giving him what he’d so desperately been craving?

“Well, that’s a goddamn travesty. Nay, a capital offense. Now you have to let me, please? Pretty, pretty please?”

Let him what? 

Logan couldn’t keep his thoughts together. He had no idea what Wade was rambling on about, just that he wanted — needed — him to stop babbling and start fucking him before he did something embarrassing, like beg. 

“Do whatever you want, just get on with it, will ya?” 

“You wouldn’t tell Gordon Ramsey to rush a beef wellington, would you? A dish like this deserves to be savored.”

“I swear to god if you don’t shut the fuck up–” the rest of his words stuck in his throat at the first swipe of Wade’s tongue. 

Oh. That’s what he was saying. 

Wade, the man who could barely wait long enough to take his shoes off before trying to get out of his pants, had apparently found all that patience he never seemed to have and decided now was as good a time as any to put it to use. 

Logan was not amused. 

He wanted, needed, Wade to hurry up and fuck him before he changed his mind (he wasn’t going to change his mind, he’d been dreaming about this for months. He might chicken out though, that was definitely a possibility). 

But no. He couldn’t just do what he always did and rush headfirst into it. He wanted to take his time.  

Bastard. 

Wade alternated between tracing the tip of his tongue along Logan’s rim and long, continuous licks from his taint all the way to the base of his spine, detouring every now and then to press his teeth into the meat of Logan’s upper thigh or buttocks, going a little harder each time, testing his boundaries. 

His hands roamed, teasing with the promise of more but never quite delivering. 

Logan had always enjoyed the act of giving, but receiving had never really lived up to the hype for him. It felt good, sure, but it was never going to get him there. At least, it never had before. 

He’d always just assumed his partners were either exaggerating for effect or way more sensitive than him – Wade could come from Logan’s tongue alone, which was flattering but also incredibly baffling.  

One of Wade’s thumbs made a circular motion right behind his balls, spreading around the copious amount of spit he’d been drooling all over Logan’s hole, increasing the pressure and radius with each rotation in a way that had his stomach clenching with anticipation. 

Logan tried to catch his breath. 

Maybe they hadn’t been exaggerating. 

If he really took the time to think about it — which he tried not to do, on principle — the handful of partners he’d bottomed for hadn’t exactly been all that focused on making him feel good. Most of them treated foreplay as optional and the few rimjobs he could remember had been rushed and unsatisfactory, a chore they both suffered through before just skipping to the good part. 

Wade, on the other hand, treated eating him out like it was the good part. 

And of course if anyone’s mouth was going to make him enjoy something he’d written off half a century ago, it would be Wade’s. The man had a mouth that wouldn’t quit in every sense — talking shit, kissing the breath from Logan’s lungs, sucking his soul out through his dick — and his deft tongue, already so well practiced in getting him off, was driving Logan mad. 

But he wasn’t thinking about any of that. 

He wasn’t thinking about anything just then; all coherent thoughts fucked right off when, after a series of rapid, fluttery, barely-there licks against his rim that sent a shot of electric heat coursing through him, Wade worked his tongue inside him.  

Logan was going to lose his goddamn mind.

Wade

He got a little carried away, forgetting that he was just supposed to be opening Logan up for the main event, not chasing all his pretty little whimpers until they morphed into full blown moans at every swipe of his tongue. 

He came up for air, replacing his tongue with a spit slick finger that slipped inside Logan like it belonged there. 

“Look at that; you’re doing so good, baby.” He added another finger and moaned like he was the one being touched. “Fuck, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.” He had to stop himself from imagining it, knowing his chances of not shooting off as soon as he felt that tight, gorgeous hole around his dick were slim to none. 

He focused on Logan instead, noting the way he was losing that quiet reserve of his and becoming more demanding, rocking back against Wade’s fingers, desperate for more. He was getting close.  

“Can I make you come like this?” Wade blurted out, practically begging, catching his breath while his fingers kept working in a slow, steady rocking motion. “We don’t have to keep going afterward if you don’t want.”

He could’ve hammered nails with his dick it was so hard, but that could be dealt with later; he really, really wanted to make Logan come now. 

“If you stop right now I will stab you,” Logan growled at him, unsubtly rocking back against Wade’s hand. 

“I think that’s supposed to be a deterrent?” Wade said, curling his fingers as he dragged them back slowly. “Gonna have to be more specific for me, buttercup.”

Logan growled again, but Wade was determined to make him use his words – not because he had any doubt about what he wanted, he just really wanted to hear Logan ask for it. 

His reluctance was short-lived. Wade only had to wait a few more short breaths before Logan was groaning into his pillow and ordering, through gritted teeth. 

“Yes, you sonofabitch, yes. Put that stupid, fucking perfect mouth to good use for once and don’t fucking stop until I tell you to.” 

His frustration was music to Wade’s ears, pretending to be all mean and demanding when he was just a sweet, desperate mess, begging for Wade to take him apart.  

“Baby, no force in the universe could make me stop unless you say so.”

He shifted his focus now that the goal had changed, no longer pulling his punches to draw it out. He rocked his fingers in and out steadily while his tongue licked and flicked and teased at the muscle gradually relaxing around them. 

Logan was making the prettiest sounds, little gasps and groans encouraging Wade to go faster, give him more, which he promptly did. 

Wade let his mouth fill with saliva while he pulled his fingers back, so that they were just barely inside him, and spit, using the added lubrication to help ease the way for the addition of a third finger alongside the first two. He stifled a groan at the sight of Logan stretched around his digits, opening up so beautifully for him. He bent his head again, putting his mouth against the place where they met, spreading his fingers and slipping his tongue into the gaps between them. He pressed his thumb just behind Logan’s balls then dragged it up towards his hole then back down again, the path made slick by the copious amounts of drool Wade didn’t bother trying to stop. 

A quietly gasped “fuck” was all the warning he got before Logan was spilling all over the bedspread, tightening around Wade’s fingers as he shuddered through his orgasm. 

Wade swallowed hard and squeezed the base of his own cock hard, forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths as he slowly pulled his fingers free from that tight, velvety heat. 

He gave them both a minute to recuperate before trying to speak. 

“Do you still want me to keep going?”

Please please please say yes 

“Did I tell you to stop?” 

Wade grinned to himself, thrilled to keep going, but trying to maintain some semblance of cool and not act like this was the first time he’d ever gotten his dick wet. 

“Your old man knees still doing okay, or you wanna switch it up?” He asked, couching the genuine question with a tease so as not to trigger Logan’s vulnerability allergy.

Instead of responding, Logan readjusted, sinking a little further into the mattress, legs spread and back arched like Wade’s own personal wet dream come to life. 

“I’m good. You?” He asked, way too smug for someone laying in a puddle of their own cum, but if anyone could pull it off, it was the Wolverine. 

It took a couple tries for Wade’s vocal cords to get with the program, but he eventually managed to squeak out some kind of affirmative sound. Logan laughed at him in a way that might’ve been cruel if not for the soft curve of his mouth and playful sparkle in his eyes when he turned his head to ask, “you gonna quit stalling and fuck me, or do I have to do it myself?”

Logan somehow managed to be both demanding and reserved in bed, ordering Wade to hurry up but then offering no further instruction on what he wanted Wade to hurry up and do. He’d been mostly joking earlier, but Wade was starting to think he’d been right about him not getting fucked enough to develop a preference for anything. Either that, or he knew what he wanted, but didn’t want to ask for it for some reason. Wade couldn’t think of a single thing he could ask for that he wouldn’t be willing to try, at least once. 

But instead of opening his mouth and helping them both out, Logan chose to remain silent and rely on Wade’s deductive reasoning skills instead. 

Lucky for them both, Wade was actually a masterful tactician underneath all the sarcasm and whimsy. 

He tested the waters carefully, cataloging how Logan didn’t react much to soft kisses across his shoulders, but a bite made him curse; how feather-light touches made him sigh, but fingernail scratches made him moan; how slow and steady made him squirm and press back to meet Wade’s hips, but he went pliant as soon as Wade got a fistful of hair or put a hand on the back of his neck. 

He wasn’t a hard man to figure out. 

Wade set a brutal pace, the kind of fucking that had him rethinking his stance on skipping cardio. He almost wished his healing factor would take a day off so that he could enjoy the delicious ache any normal person would be feeling in the morning, something to remember this moment by. 

As if I could ever forget it. 

He tightened his grip on Logan’s hip, digging his nails in, using the hold to adjust the angle and pull him to meet his thrusts. Wade wanted to bottle up those little keening gasps it pulled from Logan’s open mouth and keep them forever. 

He had a fleeting thought that it’d be nice if Logan liked hurting him as much as he apparently liked being hurt by him, but he got it. The idea of being hurt was a lot more palatable to most people than being the one doing the hurting, despite the fact that they’re two sides of the same coin. Logan did have a long, complicated history of causing pain (mostly against his will), so Wade didn’t blame him for being disgusted by the idea of doing it in the bedroom. Most people preferred one to the other, but like almost all things, Wade liked to have his cake and eat it too. He didn’t want to have to choose. 

Both. Both is good. 

But for Logan, he could stuff that part of himself down. He didn’t need Logan’s claws in him to get off – it would just be a real nice bonus, if he’d been willing. But he’d made it pretty fucking clear that he wasn’t. And that was okay. Wade could respect that. 

He wasn’t exactly settling for a consolation prize here. 

(Kinda hypocritical of him to be all judgy about Wade being inappropriately aroused in the danger room when he clearly had a thing for being treated rough, but maybe there was some line there that Wade wasn’t seeing. He didn’t want to dwell).

“Fuck, fuck Wade.” Logan’s voice had taken on an air of desperation.

So pretty. 

“Please.”

Wade dragged his lips up the scruffy column of his neck, pausing just under the curve of his jaw to nibble at the delicate skin there. 

“Whatever you want, baby. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

Logan shook his head, forehead scrunched in concentration. 

“Don’t — s’good. Perfect – don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” 

Even a brigade of samurai unicorns busting through their hotel door singing tracks from The Greatest Showman couldn’t make Wade stop now. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His thighs were burning, sweat pooling behind his knees, dripping down his neck, his own body begging for relief, to be allowed to come with that perfect, tight heat wrapped around him, but he ignored it, determined to get Logan off again before even letting the thought of himself finishing cross his mind. 

Luckily, it didn’t take much longer before Wade started to notice the little tell-tale signs he’d started cataloging over the past few months that told him Logan was almost there again. He just needed a little push. 

He carded his fingers through Logan’s hair, then closed his fist around the strands and yanked, using the hold to tilt his head to the side. Logan’s mouth dropped open in a silent shout and Wade immediately took advantage, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip before biting down harshly and tugging. 

The effect was immediate, and explosive. 

Logan came with another shout, this time considerably less silent, like Wade had gutted him (actually eerily similar). It was beautiful to watch, the almost anguished relief crashing over him, stealing his breath and making him pant from exhaustion, despite the fact that all he'd done was lay there and let Wade fuck him into the mattress.

A privilege beyond measure. 

An honor, truly. 

Wade gazed at him, resisting the too-sappy urge to brush his sweaty bangs from his forehead and place a sweet kiss there — maybe in another universe. 

His cheeks were flushed pink, his chest a matching shade, and his lips – red and kiss-bitten – were slightly parted, his exhales coming fast and heavy. He looked, in a word, gorgeous.

In four words, blissed the fuck out. 

Wade held himself still with a will he didn’t know he possessed. It was exquisite torture, bearing witness to that display up close and personal, getting to feel his body tense from the inside as his orgasm struck. 

It took every single ounce of self control and a mental slideshow of all of the least sexually appealing things he could think of to keep him from finishing right there with him. 

Wade hated himself passionately in that moment for not having pressed Logan earlier about his hard no’s. He don’t know if he was allowed to come inside him and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to ruin his already slim chance of ever getting to do this again by assuming. 

So he waited, as patiently as he had ever waited for anything in his entire life, for Logan to calm down then made to pull out, conscious of how overstimulated he must be while actively fighting the urge to sink right back into that gripping heat over and over and over again. 

His arms trembled as he tried to keep steady. 

Just a few more seconds 

He figured he’d get himself off, then they’d call it a night, job well done, but as soon as he sat back, body no longer covering Logan’s, there was a hand grabbing for his thigh and Logan’s voice — in a tone whinier than Wade had ever had the good fortune of hearing — demanding (begging) for him to keep going. 

And fuck if that wasn’t an order Wade was more than willing to obey.  

He worked back up to a steady pace, something slower than before but still intense enough to make Wade feel like he was losing his mind. He wanted to come so bad, but he wanted to keep going even worse. He wanted to stay inside Logan like this forever. 

Logan, for his part, was making that damn near impossible the way he was gasping and moaning underneath him, squirming like he wanted to get away but holding on to Wade like he would die if he stopped.  

Wade was enthralled. 

“You really like this, huh?” He teased, scratching his nails down Logan’s spine. “You like spreading your legs and letting me do all the work while you just lay there?” 

Logan growled, but it was a weak protest at best. Wade’d heard him react more aggressively to being told he needed a hair cut. 

He leaned forward, planting one arm next to his head on the pillow, shoving in deep and staying there, grinding his hips at an angle that had him hitting all the best spots. He put his lips against Logan’s ear. 

“Like being a perfect, pretty little hole for me, just begging to be filled?” 

He bit down on the shoulder in front of him to try and center himself, only making it worse for himself as the pain and words had Logan tensing beneath him, squeezing Wade’s cock and stealing the breath from his lungs. 

“Shit — don’t — oh god — don’t deny it,” he tried to keep up the dirty talk while his brain actively melted out of his ears. “Look at you, already made a mess of yourself twice and you still can’t stop begging for it, greedy pup.”

He licked a salty tear from Logan’s cheek. 

God he’s so submissive and breedable. 

Don’t you dare fucking say that out loud. We want to come. 

Without having to regrow our dick first. 

He scraped his teeth across Logan’s chin instead, biting down harder than he meant to on the hinge of his jaw after Logan deliberately shifted his hips and squeezed his muscles tight around Wade’s dick.

He jerked his head away, about to apologize, when a glint of something silver to his right caught his eye. He drew in a ragged breath when he realized what it was. 

Logan’s claws were peeking through his knuckles, seemingly without his knowledge or consent. 

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

His hips slammed forward, rougher and unrestrained as his composure crumbled. He couldn’t look away from Logan’s hands and it became an insane feedback loop – the harder he fucked him, the more Logan lost control of the claws, and the more he lost control of the claws, the more Wade lost control of himself. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his forehead to Logan’s back, between his shoulder blades, but it didn’t help.

He couldn’t stop imagining slipping his fingers between those knuckles and feeling the sharp sting of pain, seeing his blood mix with Logan’s sweat and tears – wrapping his wounded hand around Logan’s cock and getting him off again, watching him come all over his bloody fingertips. 

His hands cramped where they clung to Logan hard enough to bruise, one wrapped around his hip, the other on his shoulder, keeping him from moving up the bed with the force of Wade’s thrusts. His ears rang with the sound of his name in Logan’s mouth, chanted like a prayer, as he finally slipped off that ledge he was desperately clinging to and fell into mind-numbing bliss. 

His orgasm hit like an explosion. It felt like being blown up, only (slightly) less messy. Everything was tingling; a buzzing, crackling spark inside his veins, a blistering heat inside his belly, searing its way up into his chest and scorching his lungs until breathing became an effort. His head spun, vision going fuzzy around the edges, arms turning to limp noodles, buckling under the effort of holding him up while his entire world got rocked. 

Awareness came back slowly, then all at once he was hit with a sensation of dread and uncertainty.  

Was that too much? That had to have been too much.  

He pulled out, biting his lip at the obscene visual of his cum dripping from Logan’s hole.

His hands shook slightly as he helped Logan turn over, carefully trying to avoid the messiest parts of the bed as he did so, his adrenaline crashing while his anxiety spiked. 

Until he got a good look at the other man and all of that weariness melted away. 

Logan’s eyes were closed, but he was smiling – a soft, genuine, deeply satisfied curve to his mouth that deserved to be painted and hung in national art galleries alongside the greats. 

And he was hard. Again. 

“Jesus peanut, you ever get tired of the superhero gig you could have a lucrative career in porn. Or pharmaceutical ads. Viagra wishes they could do what you do.”

Logan snorted, barely bothering to open his eyes to roll them at Wade. 

“Says the man who can get hard just hearing the word “sex.””

“That depends on who’s saying it, and in what context,” Wade countered, fully aware that he had a hair trigger, especially when it came to the man in front of him. 

“Yeah, well, this is pretty situational too.” He gestured to his lower half, still standing at attention despite the conversation break. 

The words stroked a (not so) hidden, possessive part of Wade’s brain, the implication being that his insatiable libido wouldn’t be all that insatiable if it wasn’t Wade between his legs. Whether it was true or not (it’s not fucking true – it might be – why would it be?), it made his chest swell with pride. 

(If he hadn’t just come, it would’ve made some other parts swell too…) 

Fuck, imagine having that kind of effect on the Wolverine. This was going on his resume. 

But first.

He settled back between Logan's spread (whore) legs, propping himself up on his elbows so he could mouth his way down Logan’s chest without making a mess of his own. He didn’t bother with chaste pecks, just dove straight into sucking sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all over. He licked up the drops of sweat collected in the hollow of his clavicle; swirled his tongue around dusky nipples until they hardened into firm peaks he could pinch between his teeth; nibbled on his ribs, coaxing a punched-out half laugh, half moan from Logan’s lungs. 

He dipped his tongue into the divot of Logan’s navel, then continued to chase the taste of salty sweat and bitter cum across the expanse of his stomach and lower, a warm hand cradling the back of his head as he lapped up the mess he was honored to take responsibility for. 

“You don’ hafta,” Logan’s breath caught before he could finish his statement and he trailed off with a pained whine when Wade “accidentally” bumped his chin against the head of his dick while he sucked the drying cum from his happy trail. 

“Too much?” He innocently asked, looking up from between his legs with shiny red lips and wide eyes.

Logan tossed his head back, sliding a hand into his hair and closing his fist around the messy strands. He was biting down on his bottom lip so hard it was white, forehead pinched and eyes squeezed shut like he was being tortured, but he shook his head no. 

Wade stuck his tongue out and licked one long stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, then put his mouth over the head so that his lips were pressed against Logan’s abdomen and sucked, filling the room with sloppy, wet noises and making Logan leak a pathetic dribble of precum that Wade lapped up eagerly. 

“One more?” He asked, like there was any question what his plan was. 

Logan’s answer came out broken and hoarse.

“Can’t.”

Wade hummed, making sure to do so with his mouth pressed firmly against Logan’s sensitive glans. 

“Can’t or don’t want to? Because one of those means stop and the other just means I gotta teach you the power of positive thinking and prostate massages.”

Logan groaned from somewhere deep in his core, a hand coming back down to clutch at his shoulder, not pushing away or pulling toward, just holding on. Wade petted his upper thigh reassuringly. 

“Can’t,” he finally managed to choke out. 

Sounds like a yes to meeeee. 

He couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face as he looked up at the gorgeous wreck of a man he was about to absolutely destroy. 

Logan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.  

“Mmm yeah, but,” he pushed two fingers back inside his still stretched hole, Wade’s own cum leaking out around them filthily as he curled and pumped them just so. “It’s so much fun to try, isn’t it?”

“Fuck!”

“Okay, okay shitfuck, enough. Stop, stop– for real this time. I can’t—” Logan pawed at him uselessly, limbs heavy and uncooperative after his third orgasm in less than as many hours. 

Wade was surprised he could get that many words out, even if they were a broken, croaky whisper, considering how much he’d just been shouting. 

(They were definitely getting banned from this place – possibly the entire hotel chain if they weren’t a franchisee. 

Wade couldn’t possibly care less.) 

He moved carefully, cognizant of how quickly overstimulation can go from good pain to want-to-peel-your-skin-off pain, and laid down next to Logan, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, but not quite touching, just in case it was too much. 

You’re always too much. 

Logan immediately turned towards him, nudging Wade’s shoulder with his forehead until he got with the program and lifted his arm, helping (if by helping you mean doing all the work) Logan to lay half on top of him, head cushion on Wade’s chest, heavy arm slung limply over his stomach.

Wade carded his fingers through his hair once, then continuously after he was met with a whine when he stopped. 

“Can’t go to sleep yet, baby,” he gently chided. He knew all of Logan’s tricks by now, and he was not going to let himself fall into that trap. Sometimes —  but not every time, which Wade still hadn’t figured out the pattern of, but if he had to guess it’d be something to do with how in tune with his inner animal Logan was feeling in the moment — he would bully Wade onto his back or stomach and lay most of the way on top of him, making it basically impossible for Wade to go anywhere — like he’d want to get away. Are you kidding? — and then he’d be all warm and soft and start doing this rumbly thing that Wade swears is an honest to gods purr but would never in a million years bring it up for fear that it might stop. 

He’s not sure how it works, or why — maybe it’s just because it’s post-coital and Wade is but a man, or maybe he’s just wiped from whatever work pretense activity they were engaged in — all he knows is it’s half a minute tops before his eyelids start to droop and he finds himself nodding off, whatever subject he'd been talking about or thinking about evaporating. Just like that. 

Along with all of his plans for second dinner or another shower or trying to catch up on whatever the latest TikTok drama is that his FYP decides to drop him in the middle of. All the things he could be doing instead of getting a good night's sleep. 

Not that he’d choose any of that stuff over cuddling with Logan, but he’s a multitasker. He can eat six-hour-old pizza while cuddling; they’re not mutually exclusive. 

Wade felt the gentle rumblings (of his purr) start before he heard it and it knocked his train of thought back on track. 

Right. We’re not doing this, not yet, big guy. 

“Huh?” Logan asked, lips moving against Wade’s sternum. 

Whoops, said that one out loud.  

“Nothin’. Hey, you wanna take another shower?” He asked, quickly changing the subject. Logan groaned. 

“I can’t feel my legs.” 

Wade giggled, his chest feeling like someone popped a bottle of champagne inside it. 

“All right, fair enough.” He shimmied free of Logan’s grasp for now, the man too out of it to even try stopping him. 

Dick so good you need a mobility aid afterwards. 

That’s what he said — and by “he” I obviously mean Magneto.

Cherik, in my Poolverine fic? Get outta here. 

He giggled again, this time at his own joke, then leaned down and gave Logan a kiss on the nose. 

“You stay here, kitten, I’ll be riiiiiight back.”

He was loathe to leave Logan’s side while he was all loose-limbed and sprawled out across the bedspread, but despite his best efforts (or rather, because of them) they were filthy and if Logan couldn’t be swayed back into the shower then his kitty cat would have to settle for a sponge bath instead. 

He made quick work of cleaning himself up, letting the water run while he brushed his teeth so it would be warm for Logan (even though a wet rag on your junk somehow always feels too cold no matter how hot the water you soak it in is). 

He grabbed the obligatory complementary bottles of water off the sideboard on his way back and offered one to Logan while he downed the other in one gulp — never let it be said that Wade Wilson skimps on aftercare. 

Logan seemed content to continue allowing Wade to do all the work, remaining utterly boneless, not even deigning to lift his hand for Wade to wipe the tiny flecks of blood from between his knuckles. 

Wade lowkey loved it.

More than loved, he adored it. 

He didn’t get to do this part often, Logan always beating him to it before Wade’s body had a chance to come back online, and as much as he loved getting the full princess treatment himself, he couldn’t deny that being on the other side had its appeal. There was something so intimate about being able to touch like this even once the sex was over. He didn’t know what compelled Logan to do it – just good etiquette he guessed – but for him, it was more than just being courteous, it was connection, sharing in the afterglow together, prolonging the warmth and comfort of physical contact. 

If he could, he’d pull a Han Solo and cut open Logan’s chest like a tauntaun so he could crawl in there and hide from the rest of the cold, cruel world. Though he supposed he could settle for cleaning him up and a nice long cuddle. 

Step one down. Step two required relocation – those sheets were not salvageable – a task that Logan seemed less than willing to participate in. Wade left him for the time being, clean and hydrated, munching lazily on some gummy worms from a bag Wade had produced out of nowhere, to pull back the comforter on their unused bed. 

“Why do you even bother getting two beds anymore?” He asked, the thought never having crossed his mind before, even though it’d been months since they’d slept in separate beds. 

“Colossus looks over the invoices. ‘Sides, like makin’ a mess of you n’ not havin’ to worry about changing sheets,” Logan replied, voice still a little husky and thick like syrup as he laid there watching Wade work. 

The answer gave Wade a bit of emotional whiplash – feeling a little sick at the reminder that this part of their trips was just a dirty little secret to Logan, but also getting all warm and tingly about the way he talked about it. 

Yeah, I have problems. Trust me, I know. 

Once he finished preparing the other bed, he turned back to an unsuspecting Logan and, quick as a Maximoff, slipped one arm under his knees and the other around his back and scooped him up bridal-style, gummy worms and all. 

“What the fuck!” Logan complained (as expected), but Wade was already setting him down gently in the clean sheets before he had a chance to really start squirming. He glared up at Wade with a look that a layperson might interpret as incredulous or shock, maybe even anger, but Wade knew better. He knew by now how to read the flared nostrils and clenched jaw and pinched brow for what they were: surprised arousal. 

Fucking insatiable. 

He tried not to preen too hard when Logan’s eyes trailed across his chest, over biceps he definitely wasn’t subtly flexing, and lingered on his hands just a smidge too long. And he totally didn’t put his hands on his hips to accentuate his lats and broaden his shoulders or anything like that. That would be sooooo shallow of him. 

Wade took a hand off his hip to turn the light off, then climbed into bed next to Logan where he was immediately pinned down by a heavy arm and leg slung over him. He sighed happily, exhaustion setting into his own limbs, barely able to muster up enough energy to slide his fingers into Logan’s hair for his bedtime pets. 

“Do you have something you want to say to me?” he asked, yawning. 

“Good night?” Logan replied, uncertainly.  

“Just good night? No “gee sorry I doubted your abilities, Wade,” or “wow, you were so right, you are good at everything”?”

Logan snorted, but offered no other reply. 

“Admit it.”

“No.”

“Come oooon. You know I was right,” Wade insisted. There was no way Logan was denying it; Wade had totally rocked his world. 

“Stop talking. You’re ruining it.”

“And by “it” you mean your blissful afterglow from the best sex of your life?”

Logan sighed, long suffering, against Wade’s collarbone. 

“Woulda rather you’d been bad at it if this is what I have to deal with,” he complained. 

“Which implies that I wasn’t.”

Logan barked out an incredulous laugh and lifted his head to glare at him. 

“Fuck off, you know you weren’t.”

“Aaaaand?” Wade prompted. Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Whaddu want from me, a fuckin’ gold star? Do I need to start bringing stickers for your performance review? It was good. Really fuckin’ good. I got no complaints, except for your incessant need for validation, which I think the three orgasms and ruined comforter covered,” Logan grumbled. 

Wade couldn’t ask for a better review. For a Wolverine, “no complaints” basically equated to a standing ovation. 

“See? That wasn’t so difficult.” He gave Logan a kiss on the top of his head. “And I wouldn’t say no to a sticker every once in a while…”

Logan chuckled, leaning up to steal a real kiss that was so soft and sweet that it made Wade’s chest hurt. He loved hated it when he did that. 

“You were perfect, thank you,” he said against Wade’s lips, before ducking back down to hide his face in Wade’s neck. 

Wade didn’t know what to say to that – Logan’s random outbursts of sincerity always left him feeling wrong-footed, his brain and stomach getting all jumbled up in knots – so his mouth did what it always did when his brain fucked off for a bit and covered with a joke instead of matching Logan’s tone and risking saying something too genuine to play off. 

“Yeah, well, unlike some people, I can’t just rely on my looks to keep ‘em coming back for more. Gotta actually put in the work.”

Logan pulled his head back and looked up at him with a frown. 

“You implying I don’t put in the work?”

Wade quickly shook his head. Nothing could be further from the truth. 

“No, silly, you're an outlier. You get to be hot and good at sex, that’s why your personality’s such shit.”

Logan busted out laughing.

“Fuck you,” he said, but there was no bite to it and Wade could feel the curve of his cheek against his chest where he was still grinning even after he laid his head down.

“I’m certainly not opposed, but we were doing you this chapter. Speaking of, figured out your preferences yet?” Wade was pretty sure he’d figured out at least a few of them, but he wanted to know if Logan would actually come right out and say it or not. Knowing him, Wade was going to have to pry every single like and dislike from him like a KGB agent digging for state secrets. 

“That all you got?” He asked, answering Wade’s question with a question. 

“Oh honey, that doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of my repertoire.” 

“Then I’ll reserve my judgement, for now.”

The way he said it made it sound like there were going to be more chances for Wade to show off his skills, but school was starting in less than a week and that surely meant all of this would be stopping then too, didn’t it? 

Maybe he just meant he was planning on a busy morning. Or maybe he was expecting Wade to be at his beck and call for holidays and summer breaks indefinitely. 

(And maybe – Wade was ashamed to admit –  he would be. He wasn’t ready for whatever this was to be over, not yet. He was well past the addict bargaining – just one more time, and then I’ll quit – and deep into the desperation, willing to take whatever he could get, despite knowing just how bad of an idea it was).