Chapter Text
The party was the F-word’s idea, Wade wants you to know. Peter texted the group chat immediately when he found out Wade was alive and well, and in between flirting with Judge B-15 and filling out Wade’s spare Deadpool suit, he and Dopinder got the whole crew on board with a birthday re-do.
Wade’s plan for the night was going to be: sleep, ogle the new shiny Wolverine he brought home, sleep, and some more sleep (probably while dreaming about the aforementioned shiny new Wolverine).
Instead, they both had to scrub up and change in record time, brushing their teeth side by side in the small bathroom sink so he and Wolvie would be minty fresh when the uninvited company showed up. Wade managing to scrounge up some semblance of a Wolvie-typical outfit with an old pair of jeans he rarely wore anymore and a flannel tucked away in the back of his closet.
As the party ramps up to full swing, though, he shakes off his initial displeasure, relaxing into the easy, carefree socializing on the high of their big win. He feels like he’s on top of the fucking world, watching all of them around the table, there because of him — and for once that’s a good fucking thing.
He feels Vanessa shoulder check him, bumping into his space with that blinding, heart fluttering grin of hers, but at the moment when Wade braces himself for the sting of it, it doesn’t ever come. Her eyes find his and the sparkle is there, bright and clear but he can’t feel the warmth that used to surge through him just from looking at her.
When the fuck did that happen?
“Can we talk for a moment, Red? Alone.”
He doesn't really know what much else there is to say, but he nods anyway. He’s already spilled the beans, told her his initial mission was to save the world for her. She doesn’t really need to know that about halfway through the journey his focus shifted.
“C’mon,” she tips her head, pulls him into the hallway by the bedrooms.
“He’s even more handsome in person, Red, what the fuck,” Vanessa starts, “those comic artists and figurines don’t do him justice like, at all.” She quirks her head sideways at him, smirking. The little dimple in her cheek prominent in the half shadow of the hallway. “Or that poster you tried to put above our bed.”
Wade’s breath catches a little in his throat, seeing her so close and so much like herself. He hasn’t had the privilege of witnessing her in his space for so long.
“Yeah, I know. I want him,” he says before he can stop himself. Filter mostly rebooting still after the Time Ripper but with massive glaring holes when it comes to Logan apparently. He fights a wince.
“No duh. He’s got the whole table obsessed. I swear I saw Colossus send a blushing SOS text to the rest of them at the Mansion already — I didn’t even know metal could turn pink like that.”
Wade’s stomach swoops, unease rolling through him at the mention of them, and again, he speaks without thinking, “I want him like I wanted you.”
And it’s the truth, naked and a little ugly as it always is when laid bare. He can’t take it back even if he wanted to. He knows this is it for him, he’s found the future he wants and he’s admitting it to the future he thought he’d have. But hasn’t been anywhere near for the last six entire years.
Vanessa’s face does something complicated, flashing through stages of something before settling into a cooled expression of mild interest.
Their eyes both dart to the table.
“Then you should go get him, Wade.” Her mouth pinches at the end of her statement, placing her open palm against his chest briefly, patting once before stepping back from him. “I think he’d be good for you.”
Regret coats her voice, and he feels her withdrawal. Like this wasn’t where she intended to lead the conversation when she pulled him aside.
Something just to the left of anger flares up in his chest. He might call it indignation if pressed about it.
Is she the only one allowed to move on? What about Dermot from work?
The three days it’s been haven’t done much to lessen the echo of pain he felt upon hearing about him. And he knows they’ve been together longer than he’s had the balls to ask about. She was just polite enough not to mention it first.
The next thing he says feels like slicing a blade through his own ribs, “right, yeah. And we could have a double date, huh?”
He realized about halfway through the journey in the Void that his galavanting, pompous quest to save the world for her was futile. Even if she did take him back, nothing would have changed from the day they broke up. He’s still himself, the same as he’s ever been. Reckless and volatile and dangerous. Not on purpose and never to her, but always for her.
And she was still Vanessa. Larger than life in his head; high up on her pedestal that she never asked for and was never comfortable with. But sometimes she’d climb up there willingly when they fought. Talk down to him from the heights of it with her moral superiority.
Unreachable.
Simultaneously, she was heartbreakingly fragile and desperately human as much as he built her up as his savior in his mind.
No matter which version of her he got, he couldn’t win. And besides, what did he want from her? For her to ditch Dermot as soon as he got back and spilled his guts?
He never thought he’d want anything like her anymore. Helplessly, he glances back to Logan only to find his seat empty.
Between one second and the next, Logan’s disappeared.
Before he can make an excuse, Vanessa gives him one last shy smile, eyes pained, and turns her back to retreat to the party. Already calling over Peter to get the details on his new crush.
It doesn’t feel like the end of the conversation, but he lets her go, lets words unsaid hang between them. He snags his drink from the table and downs it in one gulp.
Wade himself slips back into the rhythm of the party after, but his eyes wander a little anxiously until he spots Logan again, taking an automatic step toward him, drawn like a magnet, but hesitating just before he catches Logan’s attention.
Logan lurks a ways away, huddled by the far counter in the kitchen, scarfing down slices of pizza like a cartoon street cat with a dumpster fish bone. He’d done that with the shawarma, too. Hunching his shoulders and turning a bit away from Wade as if he hadn’t had his own meal that he could barely finish. Like he didn’t quite know where or when his next meal would be.
Wade’s stomach drops. Shit. Yeah, that’s probably exactly what it is. Who the fuck knows how Logan got access to food or groceries back in Worst Universe. He looks alright, though, Wade realizes in the moment . Logan looks content for the most part, the lines of his face a little less severe than they had been earlier. And as Wade watches, Laura approaches him and he emits his growl-purr mix of rumbling pleasure, offering her the last slice of pizza on his plate.
Laura declines the food with a wave, instead grabbing a can from the fridge and leaning against the opposite counter to talk.
Now, Wade promises he doesn’t mean to snoop. Swears on Mary Puppin’s life, okay? It’s not his fault he can hear every single word and makes absolutely no move to walk further away so he can’t.
(And besides — she’s immortal anyway so it doesn’t count. Isn’t that how it works?)
“I think I’m gonna leave for the Mansion tonight,” Laura starts, eyes fixed on her feet, “Ellie and Yukio were talking it up and they seem really nice. Like they’d be there if I needed anything.”
God, Wade knew he had good friends, but holy fuck is it nice to witness reminders of that fact. He knew there was no way the two of them wouldn’t immediately be drawn to Laura. They were struggling teen mutants not too long ago. Would do anything to make it easier on other ones they encountered.
“I don’t know if I’ll stay or anything like that,” she continues when Logan remains quiet. “I’m not committing to anything of course. But I want to check it out.”
It’s such a Wolvie thing to say. Wade bites his lip to keep from laughing.
Logan nods his head seriously, though, taking the information in. “Smart.”
“Where do you think you’ll go?” She asks the million dollar question so bravely. As if Wade’s whole future doesn’t hang in the balance of the answer.
“Tch,” Logan makes a noncommittal noise, reaching up to rub his neck awkwardly. The glint of the metal encasing on the back of his hand catches Wade’s eye.
The adamantium channels were a fun surprise — another way Wade’s Wolvie was different. Grafted directly above Logan’s knuckles where his claws unsheathe. It makes the glide a little tad bit easier when they come out.
“I dunno,” he avoids her eyes, cheeks tinging pink. “Think I’ll stay here, I guess.”
Laura laughs, “you guess? You smell like him already, you’re stayin’ for sure.” She tips her chin at him, crossing her arms. A confident Wolvie.
Logan’s eyes finally meet hers with a growl, but somehow Wade can tell it’s teasing and playful. When he picked up the nuances of Logan’s noises, he can’t say for sure, but god is it a comforting ability.
“Shuddup, kid,” he says, moving forward to ruffle her hair.
She lights up under his attention, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet to lean into his touch. Beaming up at him from their height difference.
“Will you come visit? If I do go to the Mansion? Or— or can I come visit, do you think? Would Wade be okay with that?”
Logan sucks a sharp breath in, Wade feels the bubbling panic like a tug at his own heartstrings. Compelled to jump in and rescue Logan, he makes an aborted motion, awkward and stilted about to step into the kitchen space.
Jesus fuck, what is wrong with him? The clinginess alarms him a little bit, never having been this devoted this fucking fast.
He shakes himself out of it, retreating from the Wolvie pair before he can hear the rest of Logan’s answer. Meandering back into the living room with his empty drink tucked close to his chest.
A few minutes later he feels a solid wall of heat at his back, warm breath ghosting over his neck.
“Hey, bub?” Logan rumbles, fully in Wade’s space. Talk about clingy (Wade wishes).
Wade turns into him, damn near nose to nose and chest to chest, “hey, honey badger. What’s up?” He can’t do anything to keep the softness from his voice, the aching want beneath it.
Logan’s face pinches a little, tiniest pout forming on his lips and Wade has to squeeze his nails into his palms to keep from kissing him stupid right there. He wants to hook his fingers into Logan’s belt loops and tug him closer, breathe him in. Even if he’ll taste like pizza and beer and smoke.
He can read the exhaustion all over Logan’s face in the droop of his eyelids and the way he curls into their little bubble.
This is his chance, Wade thinks. This can be the start of proving himself to Logan.
Personally, he could go all night; still anxious and jittery and wired, but he knows the hum of the party isn’t as comforting to Logan as it is to himself.
“Oh,” Wade breathes, “how about we shut this party down for the night? Then we can get settled for bed.”
Logan takes a small step back, eyes widening for a split second like he didn’t expect Wade to say that, but then he nods, muscle jumping in his jaw when his teeth clench a little.
Wade opens his mouth, about to just yell “get the fuck out” or “you don’t gotta go home but you can’t stay here” but Logan winces like he anticipates it, shoulders flinching up to his ears. The noise dies in Wade’s throat and he makes the decision to politely, quietly tell his guests that it’s getting late and he and Wolvie and Al will be needing to sleep soon.
There’s a small collective grumble, but everyone pitches in to clean up a bit, dumping the last dredges of drinks and tossing paper plates into the big trash bag Wade starts carrying around.
“And where the fuck are you going?” He asks Al as she’s pulling on her coat, Peter hovering dutifully behind her with her cane in his hand. It’s just the three of them by the door.
Al snorts, shakes her head like he’s stupid, “some gay shit’s about to happen tonight or tomorrow that I don’t wanna bear witness to, dumbass. Call me when you’ve resurfaced from each other's assholes.”
Wade splutters, incomprehensible noises from his mouth.
“Logan, honey?” Al continues like nothings wrong with him, calling Logan in from the other room.
“Yes, ma’am?” He says, spine straightening as he approaches.
Al’s hand finds his forearm where they’re crossed over his chest, she pats him consolingly, “there’s fresh sheets in my room, you can stay there for a bit, I’ll be with a friend of mine for a few days.” A completely different story than what she gave Wade.
Logan ducks his head gratefully, accepting Althea’s offer and helping her down to Dopinder’s cab with Peter.
Wade can’t even argue when they leave; he does kind of want gay shit to happen tonight or tomorrow, but he wouldn’t pounce on Logan like that immediately. Not when he’s the whole reason Logan’s trapped in this universe anyway.
Jesus, does everyone know Wade’s down that bad? Is it that fucking obvious he’s—
“Hey,” Laura’s quiet voice at his shoulder interrupts his spiraling, “um, I’m gonna head out, too. Thanks for letting me come over tonight.” She looks a little sheepish, darting her eyes around like she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.
Wade swallows, dry throat clicking. He wants to snatch her up and sob a little bit; tell her she’s always more than welcome wherever he is, knows it goes double for Logan, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm her. Skittish as she’s been since the Void.
“You can come over anytime,” he says instead of everything he wants to impress upon her. “For real, we’ll have to start doing dinners or something, if you’re stickin’ close. The Mansion isn’t all that far.”
A hopeful little smile graces her features, echoing bright and answering in Wade’s chest, “yeah, maybe.” And she surprises him even further, darting into his chest for a quick hug and then scurrying off after Ellie and Yukio and Colossus.
The other three just wave, heading out into the cold as well.
Wade thinks that’s the last of them, until a warm hand brushes his wrist and he jumps back with a startled yelp, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck?!”
It’s just Vanessa, all soft hands and gentle eyes, giving him a droll stare, “I was just trying to tell you bye, too, Red, cool it.” She squeezes his arm, letting him go to step away and his mouth opens before he can stop it, a little desperate.
“I’ll see you, then? I was, uh, thinking about starting up game nights again? How’s that— how’s that sound? D’you wanna come around next month or so? Like old times,” he ends with a plastic smile, taped and glued on over the grimace he wants to show.
Game nights haven’t been a thing in almost two entire years; his friends only gathered recently because of his birthday. As time went on after the breakup, things just… faded out.
They stopped texting, the check in’s went further and further in between. And Wade, well, he wasn’t in much of a mood to perform anymore. So he let it happen despite the way he wanted to cling and coax and sometimes beg for scraps of anything they were willing to give him.
Ness never liked that part of him. He knew to keep her in any capacity that he’d have to tone it the fuck down, so he did. He sunk lower than he’s ever been, even when she was dead.
At least when she was dead they were still together. He still had a goal, and the desperate focus to complete it.
No amount of his desperation could get her back this time, though, the last six years have proved that.
He almost doesn’t know why he’s asking her this now, after everything. Some kind of anxious need for normalcy resurfacing. Wanting to become a person.
She sighs, “Wade—”
“—Wade?” Logan stands awkwardly in the apartment doorway, eyes widened but the rest of his face impassive and unreadable. “Should I go?”
He says it so soft and earnest, like he’d turn tail at Wade’s dismissal and never ask to return again.
“God, no, Wolvie, don’t even think about it,” he says with more certainty than he’s felt in so long.
Vanessa’s eyes flash.
There’s that same anger, the same harsh sting of her disappointment and ire. And what the fuck is going on?
“Look, I’ll call you or something, okay? Goodnight, Wade,” she says, brushing past him and out the apartment door without a second glance.
Wade wishes she’d taken the awkwardness with her when she left, but it lingers in the air after she’s gone in a suffocating way.
He locks up for the night, the same way he always does: doorknob, deadbolt, chain lock in that order.
He feels Logan’s eyes following the movement, but the other man makes no comment.
“Is it really okay for me to stay in Althea’s room?” Logan cuts his eyes away, stuffing his hands in the front of his borrowed jeans pockets, though they get a little stuck around the metal casings.
Wade watches the edge of the seam fray, giddy delight stirring in him knowing that even if Logan was gone, the evidence would remain. Encapsulated in fabric and the last of Wade’s hope.
This was real. This was real. This was real.
“It smells like old lady in there, so you might not wanna stay too long in that room, but yeah, peanut. She’ll be gone for a few days, it’ll give us some time to look for a place if we want.”
He internally cringes, realizing he said too much way too fucking soon. Logan won’t want that with him, how could he? What has Wade done to give him any confidence in a future together—
“Good. Okay.” Logan’s deep voice cuts through the rambling in his head, “that’s a decent plan.”
“Yeah? Yeah, okay.” He claps his hands together, ducking into his bedroom to snag Logan a pair of pajamas for the night.
Their fingers brush when Logan takes them, warmth surging through Wade’s senses, coiling over his nerves in a dangerous, calming way.
But all Wade can muster is, “Goodnight, Lo.”
—
It takes Wade ten seconds upon waking up the next morning to remember that he has a Wolverine in the room beside his.
He leaps out of bed like a fucking kid on Christmas, hoping Logan’s still sleeping. He stumbles when Mary comes running at him, not quite used to her little body being under his feet just yet.
Wade bends down to pet her, cooing softly, “did you sleep good, cutie pie? Yeah?” He huffs a laugh as she rolls onto her back in the middle of the floor, tongue out and back leg kicking when he scratches her side just the right way. “C’mon, let’s go take a little walk and then I’ll get you breakfast.”
He tugs a hoodie on and grabs her leash — Peter brought over some supplies for her last night that he had from his own dog that he couldn’t quite manage to throw away after he’d passed. A small collar and a simple leash and a set of dog bowls that he was happier knowing they’d get used and loved by a new dog. He brought her a bag of kibble, too, that Wade plans on softening up with some water or broth for her toothless little mouth.
Logan had made a little bed for Puppins before they went to sleep last night, curling blankets up into a circle and then rolling the ends to stabilize it. He’d nestled a little pillow and stuffed toy for her inside the soft crater and then stalked into Al’s room without another word.
Wade takes her around the block, letting her sniff and do her business without rushing, then carries her up the apartment steps when they’re done. He fills her bowls and sets about making coffee, hoping to draw Logan out with the smell.
He knows it’s working when he hears a grunt through the thin walls. Then a muffled groan buried in a pillow and finally, the soft footfalls of a Wolvie not quite awake enough to be silent on his feet yet.
There’s a brief flash of anxiety in Wade’s chest, cold and clutching, just before Logan looms in the doorway. He flails a little, adjusting his stupid clothes like it’ll somehow make him look more presentable and he almost lunges for his mask in the other room but before he can make the move, Logan’s shuffling into the kitchen ahead of him.
He’s even more gorgeous than when they went to bed last night, if that’s at all possible. Kitty ear cowlicks in complete disarray, a red crease from the line of the pillow case slowly healing across his cheek. He must’ve ditched the shirt he borrowed sometime in the night — or, Wade’s brain helpfully supplies — slept totally nude and only just slipped back into the pajama pants currently barely hanging onto his hips.
Logan grunts in greeting, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the back of his curled fingers, ‘cause he can’t use the back of his knuckles, Wade realizes, impeded by the metal protrusions along the bones.
He looks so soft, stripped bare of his defenses except for the scowl on his lips, though even that is dulled in the morning light.
“Hey, honey,” Wade nearly coos, “um… badger,” he finishes belatedly with an awkward cough. “How’d you sleep?” He turns away before Logan can reply, busying himself with grabbing mugs and sugar and cream. He hears Logan lower himself down in one of the rickety kitchen chairs, ancient wood protesting his weight.
“Mm,” is all he gets in answer, more vibration than sound. God, he’s fucking adorable, and absolutely not a morning person, clearly.
It hits Wade all at once, then, the weight of domesticity falling on his shoulders.
They lived — survived together. No one had to make the sacrifice. No one was left all alone after.
He called and Logan came back. Followed him home and spent the damn night. Was now making a home in his kitchen as Wade poured him a mug full of shitty coffee.
And he watches, mesmerized, learning exactly how Logan takes it.
Two little half spoonfuls of sugar and a good amount of cream.
Who fucking knew?
He wants to know everything about Logan suddenly, wants to unravel him bit by bit until he can recognize him backward and forward and sideways and inside out.
Wants to imprint him on his heart like he never thought he’d get to do again.
He’d almost forgotten entirely how it felt, in those early days of getting to know someone; how every little snippet and sneak peak glimpse into their personhood felt like a revelation. Something sacred and sweet to be guarded and kept safe.
Logan doesn’t comment or react to any of Wade’s awkward movements accompanying these thoughts, too busy slurping down his coffee. He makes a small noise of contentment after every sip, seemingly unconsciously.
He curls his fingers around his mug when he sets it back down on the table, the barest tremble to the digits. They’re longer, a bit more graceful than Wade would’ve thought they’d be for such violent hands.
The shaking worries him a bit, and the way Logan seems to wince a little in the streaming sunlight, averting his eyes from the light cast across the table.
“Are you okay?” He doesn’t think he says it all that loud, but Logan’s nose scrunches and he reels back in his seat away from the sound of Wade’s voice. “Shit,” Wade whispers, trying again, “are you alright? What’s wrong?”
“Jus’… sensitive, I guess,” Logan mumbles, voice like gravel in his throat. “Dunno. Been a little on edge since, well I don’t know exactly when.” He spreads his fingers wide, taking in the way they quiver before tightening them up into fists and crossing his arms. “How about you, bub? How’re you holding up?”
The question makes Wade freeze and actually take stock of himself — something he’s neglected to do since everything happened. He pauses, realizes that for the first time in a long time he feels okay. Good, even, if he’s being generous. Like some iron fist has unclenched from around his insides, the weight on his chest lifted entirely that he’d been carrying around.
He sighs, the sound pure and light between them, and he’s not lying when he meets Logan’s eyes and says, “I think I’m alright, peanut.”
Logan hums, nodding his head. He takes another sip of his coffee and swallows with a little groan.
It makes Wade— “hungry.”
Fuck, he said that out loud, didn’t he?
Logan cocks his head to the side, puppy-like and alarmingly sweet, “yeah, I could eat. Whatcha have?”
Shit.
“Actually? Nothing here. I’ll have to run out real quick, but it won’t take me long, promise,” Wade stands from the table, patting his pockets as if there’d be anything in them, deciding he’ll just go out in his pajama pants like he did earlier when he walked Puppins.
He snags his mask from the living room, turning to tell Logan he’ll be back, only to nearly bump right into him.
“Whoa, peanut, you don’t have to come along, you’re barely awake as it is.”
Logan’s face tightens, “what… what am I s’pose to do while you’re gone?” He mumbles it, mostly like he’s talking to himself, but it breaks Wade’s heart just the same as if he’d begged it of him.
Logan looks around the apartment like it’s the first time he’s actually seeing it, and that’s probably the truth; yesterday had been hurried and hectic and things looked different in the light of day. Wade follows his hazel eyes, watches him take it all in and categorize the small space.
The living room is still a little bit messy from last night, but cozy enough, Wade thinks. He hopes Logan settles when he’s gone.
“Anything you want. I’ll be back soon,” he grins, “you won’t even have a chance to miss me.”
—
“I didn’t know what kind of breakfast person you were, so I got sweet and savory options — donuts and some ham and cheese for bagel sandwiches. And then I got stuff for tacos tonight because apparently almost dying gave me a serious craving for white people tacos,” Wade rambles, setting plastic bags on the counter when he gets home, turning around when Logan doesn’t answer right away.
He finds Logan cross legged on the floor by the record player, still clutching his coffee mug like a lifeline, his eyes a little soft and unfocused.
“Hey, Lo?” Wade calls, drawing Logan’s attention, ears twitching. He grunts when their eyes meet. Still all grumpy bear, apparently. “Do you wanna come eat? I’ll make more coffee, too.”
It’s then that Wade registers the record Logan picked; the wafting, lulling croon of Billy Joel filtering through tinny speakers.
The Stranger.
Vanessa’s album. Wade never gave it back to her.
And of course it’s Vanessa’s song playing, too. Good old Billy lamenting his ever-changing, contradictory woman.
She can lead you to love
She can take you or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe it
He’s right about one thing, though. She’s nobody’s fool.
That’s always been Wade’s role. And this might be the most foolish thing he’s ever attempted. Wooing the Wolverine? Who the fuck does he think he is.
Logan lowers the volume, standing up from the floor with the grace of a big cat, all predatory on quiet feet. He’s still shirtless, furry chest out in all its glory. Jiggling a little as he moves and Jesus fucking Christ maybe he did die under that subway tunnel because the view of Logan has to be some form of heaven.
He stalks into the kitchen at Wade’s question, oblivious.
Wade can’t help but admire the rest of him a beat; eyes tracing down his body to appreciate the way he’s damn near all legs, slender in Wade’s borrowed pajama pants and the way he enters the room nose first, sniffing curiously.
He sits at the table again while Wade turns the stove on, throwing bagels into the toaster. Hoping he can get into the swing of things once he gets going. Breakfast is the one thing he tries really hard not to fuck up, it’s the least he thinks he can fucking do for whatever poor soul had the misfortune of spending the night with him.
Mary comes over to inspect the breakfast Wade’s cooking, yipping quietly at Logan’s feet. Wade wants to squeal when Logan leans down to greet her, offering his hand for her to sniff. He makes his own animalistic noise in greeting that Wade can’t quite put a name to. More in his nose than in his throat.
She responds happily to it, rolling over to show her belly and Wade relates a dangerous amount. Would gladly roll over and show Logan his belly, too if he kept making his Wolvie noises and generally existing in Wade’s vicinity.
“Thank you,” Logan says after a beat, voice rough with disuse still, raspy over the noises of the kitchen, “for goin’ to get food and for cooking. I’ll uh— I’ll pay you back when I can, okay? Just, keep track of what I owe you.”
Bagels finally assembled, Wade sets a plate in front of Logan, the second at his own seat and sits down across from him.
“I talked to Verity, too while I was out — the judge who let you stay here, she gave me a fat ass stack of cash for the moment for our little adventure and she said there will be more on the way when the TVA reevaluated our impact. Whatever that means, but,” he trails off, playing with his fork next to his plate. “So technically you don’t owe me anything, I already used both of our money.”
“Wait,” Logan processes, “you talked to the TVA? Without me?” He frowns like that information really upsets him for some reason.
Wade amends quickly, “No, no, it wasn’t like that. She found me on the street by the subway station and I gave her Peter’s number. I wasn’t looking for her or anything.” His eyes widen, imploring, but Logan relaxes a fraction, scowl softening. He goes back to his sandwich with a small growl. He probably thinks Wade tried to send him back, Wade guesses. But he’ll learn soon enough that Wade takes ‘finders keepers’ deadly serious.
Breakfast continues uneventfully until Wade reaches into the middle of the table for more hot sauce and Logan snarls, claws unsheathing to pin Wade’s hand to the table. His fangs flash.
“Ouch!” Wade yelps, “fuck, I wasn’t gonna touch your plate, peanut, I swear!” He wheezes a little, unprepared for the stinging burn of being pierced by the claws so soon in the day. He puts his other hand up in surrender.
The claws retract, Logan shooting him a sheepish, apologetic look, “M’sorry.”
“There’s more of everything, as much as you want. I got a fuck ton just in case.”
Logan mumbles something unintelligible, tucking back into his food. He eats a donut while Wade makes him a second sandwich after his first one is gone too soon.
He wolfs that one down, too, just as messy but less tense and uneasy about it. Wade counts it as a win.
And when he resists the urge to thumb icing from the side of Logan’s mouth, he counts that as a win, too.
They’ll get there in time.