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Chapter Text

The autumn air bit Logan's face as he and Wade walked up the path towards the Xavier mansion, leaves crunching under their boots. Wade kept up a running commentary about whether Storm would remember him from that time he'd "borrowed" one of her leather jackets, while Logan grunted noncommittally every few sentences.

Living with Wade the past year had become something Logan never knew he needed. The apartment they shared was chaos incarnate. Weapons scattered in every room , Al's drug paraphernalia mixing with Logan's whiskey bottles, although he was trying to cut back, and Wade's constant chatter filling every silence. But it was home. Their home. And somewhere between all the nights sharing a bed, and the hundredth time Wade had dragged him to Sister Margaret's for a job, Logan had stopped fighting the chemistry between them and he now had an energetic merc for a boyfriend.

The mansion loomed ahead, grand and familiar in a way that still made Logan's chest tighten. He'd been back a handful of times now, each visit easier than the last. This universe's X-Men had welcomed him with open arms, or at least with polite nods and only minimal side-eye. Charles was gone here too, but the school carried on, filled with mutant kids who needed guidance and safety, Storm now running the place. Good for her.

Wade pushed through the heavy front doors without knocking, because of course he did, everyone was used to his antics by now.

"Honey, we're hooome!" he called out, his voice echoing through the entrance hall.

A group of teenagers rounded the corner, their faces lighting up when they spotted them. Logan recognized a few from previous visits. He and Wade had become pretty popular with the young ones.

"Deadpool, Wolverine!" called a girl with blonde hair. If Logan remembered, her name was Emma. Her mutation was diamond skin that refracted light in rainbow patterns waved enthusiastically.

"How many times do I gotta tell you," Logan muttered, "just Logan."

"And you can call me your favourite Uncle Wade," Wade added, spreading his arms wide. "Or you can call me— actually no. That's not PG, never mind."

Logan elbowed him hard in the ribs.

A boy with scales dotted across his skin stepped forward, his expression hopeful. "Are you guys here to offer to chaperone the Halloween party?"

"Halloween party?" Wade perked up immediately. "There's gonna be a party? Why wasn't I informed? I have costume ideas. So many costume ideas."

"That's the problem," Emma said with a sigh. "We wanted to have one, but Professor Munro says there aren't enough adults to chaperone properly. Most of the teachers are on that mission in Budapest, and the ones left are already stretched thin with classes and training sessions."

Logan watched Wade's entire demeanour shift. His boyfriend—God, that word still felt weird in his head—went very still, his body language screaming distress.

"Kids can't have a Halloween party?" Wade's voice came out smaller than usual. "That's... that's just wrong. That's an injustice. That's a crime against childhood itself!"

"Wade—" Logan started.

"No!" Wade spun toward him, gesticulating wildly. "Logan, these kids deserve to have fun! They deserve to dance to spooky music and eat candy until they puke and watch shitty Halloween movies! They deserve normalcy in whatever fucked up way we can give it to them!"

The kids watched this exchange with wide eyes, clearly unused to seeing adults get this worked up over their social activities.

Logan felt something warm unfurl in his chest. This was Wade all over. The man who acted like nothing mattered to him, but cared about everything so goddamn much it hurt. The man who'd saved the entire multiverse, because nine people meant that much to him.

"Fine," Logan heard himself say. "We'll do it."

"Really?" Emma's face lit up, literally, her face glowing with excitement.

"Wait, we will?" Wade stopped mid rant and turned back to him.

"Yeah." Logan shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, affecting nonchalance even though he could feel his lips twitching toward a smile. "I mean, how hard can it be? We put on some movies, hand out some candy, make sure nobody burns the place down."

"I always want to burn places down," Wade stage-whispered to the kids, "but I restrain myself because I've had character growth."

"You really mean it?" The scale boy was practically vibrating with excitement. "You'll help us have a party?"

Logan opened his mouth to confirm when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

"What party?"

He turned to find Laura standing in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral in that way she had when she was around too many people, still finding it hard to trust people. His daughter—because that's what she was, even if the genetics were complicated as hell—had been living at the mansion for a while now, getting proper training and socialization with other mutant kids her age.

"Halloween party, kiddo," Logan said, his voice automatically softening the way it always did around her. "These guys want to have one but they're short on chaperones."

Laura's eyes flickered with something Logan had learned to recognize as interest, even though her face barely moved. "I've never been to a Halloween party before."

The words hit Logan right in the chest. Of course she hadn't. Being raised in a lab, turned into a weapon, spending her childhood running and fighting and surviving before she was zapped to the void. Normal kid shit like Halloween parties had never been part of her world.

He looked at Wade and found him already looking at him with a soft, knowing glint in his eye. One that said he knew that even if Logan had said no initially, he'd be tripping over himself to say yes now as he wouldn't deny Laura anything.

"Well then," Logan said gruffly, "guess we better make sure this party happens. And that it's a damn good one."

The kids erupted into cheers, and Laura's lips curved into the smallest smile.

~~

The week leading up to Halloween was a whirlwind of planning that somehow Wade had appointed himself the director of. He'd created a group chat called "SPOOKY PARTY PLANNING COMMITTEE" that Logan had immediately muted, and had enlisted Laura as his co-conspirator in what he called "Operation: Best Fucking Halloween These Kids Have Ever Had."

Logan mostly stayed out of the way, occasionally vetoing Wade's more insane ideas.

"We are not having a real zombie," he said flatly when Wade had suggested asking Dr Strange to raise something from the local cemetery.

"You never let me have any fun," Wade had pouted.

But now, a couple days before Halloween, as they had their own plans on the actual day, Logan had to admit Wade had outdone himself. The mansion's common room had been transformed into a Halloween wonderland, orange and purple lights strung everywhere, paper bats dangling from the ceiling, fake cobwebs covering every surface. Someone had carved at least twenty jack-o'-lanterns that lined the walls, their flickering candles casting dancing shadows.

The kids started arriving around seven, their costumes ranging from store-bought to clearly homemade with love. Logan spotted vampires, werewolves, superheroes, and one kid who'd somehow turned their mutation, the ability to sprout flowers from their skin, into an elaborate poison ivy costume.

Wade had gone all out with his own costume, naturally. He'd dressed as a witch, apparently the one from Hansel and Gretel, complete with the broomstick, green face even though he was told that was the Wizard of Oz, and was doing a disturbingly accurate cackle that was making some of the younger kids nervous.

"Wade," Logan growled, "dial it back. You're supposed to be chaperoning, not traumatizing."

"But I'm a method actor, Logan!" Wade protested in a nasally witch voice.

Logan himself had thrown on a flannel shirt and jeans, same as always. When Wade had complained about his lack of costume, he'd growled that he was dressed as "a guy who didn't want to be here but is anyway," which Wade had declared was "the most Logan thing ever."

Laura had surprised him by actually participating in the costume aspect. She'd dressed as Buttercup from the Powerpuff girls. Apparently Ellie and her had fought over it and Laura won so Ellie was Blossom and Yukio was Bubbles.

That's his girl.

The party kicked into full swing quickly. Wade had set up a playlist that started with "Monster Mash" and quickly devolved into what he called "spooky bangers," which apparently included "Thriller," "Ghostbusters," and for some reason "Heads Will Roll" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Wade claimed it's because they sang about people's heads going off but Logan wasn't convinced.

"Alright, alright, alright!" Wade said like Matthew McConaughey, clapped his hands together. "Who here has seen Hocus Pocus?"

About half the hands went up.

Wade clutched his chest dramatically. "I'm sorry, WHAT? Some of you heathens have never experienced the Sanderson sisters? This is a travesty! This is a crime! Logan, do you see this?"

"I can see it," Logan said from where he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a small smile playing at his lips despite himself.

"We're watching it. Right now. Everyone sit your asses down—your butts down, sorry, family friendly language." Wade started herding kids toward the sectional sofas that had been arranged around the large TV.

Logan helped pass out bowls of popcorn and candy, watching as Wade queued up the movie with the enthusiasm of a kid himself. Laura settled onto the floor near the front, and Logan found himself sitting in the armchair nearest her, close enough to be present but not hovering.

Wade kept up a running commentary through the whole movie, quoting lines before they happened and gasping dramatically at all his favourite parts. The kids ate it up, laughing at his antics as much as the movie itself. When "I Put a Spell on You" came on, Wade leaped up and started dancing, pulling kids up to join him.

"Come on, Logan!" he called out, shimmying in a way that should not have been attractive in a long robe witch costume but somehow was. "Shake that adamantium ass!"

"Not happening," Logan replied, but he was grinning. Laura rolled her eyes but Logan caught her tapping her foot to the music.

After Hocus Pocus, Wade had organized a costume contest, strutting around with a clipboard and giving each kid a thorough examination of their costume with the seriousness of a Project Runway judge.

"The attention to detail on these scales is impeccable," he told a kid dressed as a dragon. "And you—" he pointed at a girl in a ghost costume that was literally just a sheet with holes cut out, "—the minimalism, the classic aesthetic, the way you've really committed to the 'I don't give a fuck' vibe? Inspired."

In the end, he declared it a tie between three kids and gave them twenty dollars each, despite Logan pointing out that defeated the purpose of a competition.

"They're all winners in my heart," Wade had whispered back, "and also I brought like two hundred dollars in cash because I'm not a monster."

"You're literally dressed as a child-eating witch."

"A child-eating witch with a heart of gold!"

The night was going perfectly until someone mentioned the apple bobbing station that had been set up in the kitchen.

"Wade! Wade!" A cluster of younger kids surrounded Wade, tugging on his costume. "You have to try the apple bobbing! Everyone's been doing it!"

Logan watched Wade's entire body language change in an instant. He went rigid, his breathing picking up in a way Logan could hear even across the room. Wade's hand came up in a brush off gesture, his usual manic energy replaced by something that looked almost like fear.

"Nah, nah, I'm good," Wade said, his voice tight and higher than normal. "You guys go ahead. I'll just... I'll watch."

But the kids were insistent, pulling at his arms, their enthusiasm innocent and oblivious.

"Come on!"

"It'll be fun!"

"Everyone else has done it!"

Wade was backing up now, his breathing coming faster, and Logan's instincts kicked into overdrive. He'd seen panic attacks before, hell, he'd had enough of his own, and he recognized the signs.

"Hey!" Logan's voice cut through the chatter, sharp and commanding in a way that made everyone freeze. "Laura, why don't you show these guys that card trick you learned. The one with the ace?"

Laura's eyes flicked to Wade, then to Logan, understanding dawning immediately. "Yeah," she said smoothly, already moving toward the group of kids. "Come on, you guys have to see this. It's really cool."

She started herding them back toward the common room, and Logan heard her launch into an explanation of the trick, her voice carrying the kids away.

Logan crossed the room to Wade in three long strides, catching his elbow gently. "Outside. Now."

He guided Wade through the kitchen and out the back door onto the patio, the cool October air hitting them both. The sounds of the party faded to a muffled background noise.

"I'm fine," Wade said immediately, but his voice was shaking. "I'm totally fine. Just didn't feel like getting my face wet, you know? This makeup took forever and—"

"Wade." Logan kept his voice low, steady. "Look at me."

Wade's eyes met Logan's, and even though Wade's face was a blank mask, Logan could see the tension in every line of his body.

"What happened?" Logan asked quietly.

Wade laughed, but it came out brittle and wrong. "Nothing happened. Kids wanted me to bob for apples. I said no. End of story."

"Bullshit." Logan stepped closer, close enough that Wade would be able to feel his body heat. "I saw you panic. Talk to me."

For a long moment, Wade was silent. Then his shoulders slumped, and his mask dropping. His eyes were bright, not quite wet but close.

"It's stupid," Wade muttered.

"It's not."

Wade's smile was a twisted, painful thing. "They couldn't have known, right? The kids. They couldn't have known about the..." He gestured vaguely. "The water boarding. When I was in the program. When they were making me into this." He indicated his scarred face, his body.

Logan felt rage ignite in his chest, hot and familiar. He'd heard bits and pieces about what had been done to Wade, but Wade usually played it off with jokes and deflection. This was the most direct he'd ever been about it.

"It was one of many fun ideas they had" Wade continued, his voice distant. "The torture. They'd drown me, bring me back, drown me again. Over and over. Trying to trigger the mutation." His laugh was hollow. "Turns out you can up the ante on round the clock torture."

Logan's claws itched to come out, to find every person who'd hurt Wade and make them pay. But that wasn't what Wade needed right now.

"So yeah," Wade said, "bobbing for apples? Sticking my face in a bucket of water while people watch? Not really my idea of fun party times."

"Jesus, Wade." Logan reached out, cupping the back of Wade's neck and pulling him close. "I'm sorry. That's... fuck."

Wade leaned into him, his forehead coming to rest against Logan's shoulder. "I wanted tonight to be perfect for them. For the kids. For Laura. I don't want my bullshit trauma ruining their fun."

"You're not ruining anything," Logan said firmly. "You hear me? You've given these kids the best Halloween they could ask for. And if you can't bob for fucking apples, that's okay. That's more than okay."

They stood like that for a moment, Wade's breathing gradually slowing to match Logan's. The autumn night wrapped around them, cool and quiet, a pocket of peace away from the chaos of the party.

"You're pretty good at this," Wade murmured against his shoulder. "The comfort thing. When did you get so emotionally available?"

"Shut up," Logan replied, but there was no heat in it. He pressed his lips to Wade's temple, his scarred skin, the texture soft under his lips, make up be dammned. "You good to go back in?"

Wade pulled back, and his smile was more genuine now, reaching his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks, Logan."

"Don't mention it."

They headed back inside, and Logan watched as Wade immediately plastered his manic energy back on like a costume, throwing his arms wide as he re-entered the common room.

"Right!" Wade's voice boomed. "Who wants to play pin the spider on the web? Because I have been informed that my artistic rendering of said spider is 'deeply unsettling' and 'probably gonna give someone nightmares,' so obviously we need to appreciate it properly!"

The kids cheered, and Logan caught Laura's eye across the room. She gave him a small nod. She'd kept them distracted, kept the party going. Good kid.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of games and laughter. Wade organized a dance party that had even some of the shyer kids participating, and Logan found himself actually enjoying watching the chaos unfold. Laura won the spider game.

"Nicely done kid!" Logan had called out when Laura nailed it on the first try, and the small smile shy she'd given him had been worth every second of this entire ridiculous night.

Around ten, some of the younger kids started flagging, their sugar highs crashing into sleepy lows. Wade switched gears seamlessly, dimming the lights and queuing up a second movie—Halloweentown this time, which he declared was "essential viewing for any self-respecting spooky season enthusiast."

Logan found himself on the couch with Laura curled up on one side, her head gradually drooping toward his shoulder, and Wade sprawled on his other side, still in his witch costume, his scarred hand resting on Logan's thigh.

This. This was something Logan had never imagined having. A family. People who chose to be near him not because they had to, not because of some mission or team obligation, but because they wanted to. Because somehow, impossibly, he'd become someone worth wanting.

Wade's thumb traced idle patterns on his leg, and Logan covered that scarred hand with his own, squeezing gently.

"You did good tonight," Logan murmured, quiet enough that only Wade could hear over the movie.

"We did good," Wade corrected, turning his hand to lace their fingers together. "Team effort, Peanut."

"Don't call me that in front of the kids."

"You love it."

Logan didn't dignify that with a response, mostly because Wade was right and they both knew it.

By the time the movie ended, half the kids were asleep where they sat, draped over couches and sprawled on the floor. Storm appeared in the doorway, back from her mission early, taking in the scene with an amused smile.

"I see you two managed not to burn the place down," she said softly, careful not to wake the sleeping children.

"We're professionals," Wade whispered back, gesturing grandly and nearly smacking a kid in the face before Logan caught his arm.

"We should probably get these guys to their rooms," Logan said, already gently shaking Laura awake. She blinked up at him groggily, and for a second she looked so young, so vulnerable, that Logan's chest ached with the need to protect her from everything the world might throw at her.

"Is the party over?" she mumbled.

"Party's over, kid. But it was a good one, right?"

Laura's smile was small but genuine. "Yeah. It was really good. Thanks, Logan. Thanks, Wade."

"Anytime, little Wolverine," Wade said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Anytime at all."

They helped Storm and the other staff members get the kids to bed, Logan carrying two of the smaller ones while Wade made a production of "tucking everyone in properly" with elaborate goodnight rituals that had the kids giggling even in their exhausted states. Finally, with all the children settled and the common room looking like a Halloween bomb had gone off, Logan and Wade stood in the entrance hall preparing to head home.

"You guys are welcome to stay," Storm offered. "It's late, and I'm sure we can find rooms—"

"Nah, we're good," Wade said, then paused. "Actually, wait. Logan, can we stay? I want to have breakfast with the kids tomorrow. I promised Emma I'd make my famous—well, infamous—pancakes."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "You don't know how to make pancakes."

"I'll learn tonight! The internet exists! How hard can it be?"

"You're going to burn down the kitchen."

"Only a little bit. Come on, please?" Wade clasped his hands together in exaggerated pleading. "I never got to have sleepovers as a kid. Well, I did, but they were more like 'being held captive in a murder basement' than 'fun times with friends,' so can we please have a wholesome sleepover experience?"

Logan looked at Storm, who was clearly trying not to laugh.

"We have plenty of room," she said diplomatically.

"Fine," Logan sighed, but he was smiling. "But if you burn anything, I'm absolved of responsibility."

"Deal!"

Storm set them up in one of the guest rooms, and Logan watched Wade immediately flop onto the bed, still in his costume, arms and legs spread like a starfish.

"Best Halloween ever," Wade declared to the ceiling. "Those kids are gonna remember this forever. We're like... we're like the cool uncles who show up and make everything awesome."

Logan sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots. "You really love this, don't you? The whole... family thing."

Wade rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. His expression was open, vulnerable in a way he usually hid behind jokes and deflection. "Yeah. Yeah, I really do. Is that stupid?"

"No." Logan reached out, tracing one of the ridges of scar tissue on Wade's face with a gentleness that would have shocked anyone who knew him from before. "It's not stupid at all."

"I just... I never had this growing up, you know? And then after the program, I figured I'd never have it at all. That I was too broken, too fucked up, too much of a disaster for anyone to want around long-term, what with what happened between me and Vanessa after all." Wade's eyes searched Logan's face. "But then there was you. And Laura. And somehow you both stuck around even though I'm a walking catastrophe."

"You're our walking catastrophe," Logan said gruffly. "And for what it's worth, I never thought I'd have this either. Family. Home. Someone who..." He struggled with the words, emotion making his throat tight. "Someone who makes me want to be better. Who makes me think maybe I deserve good things after all."

Wade's eyes went bright and wet. "Logan Howlett, are you getting sappy on me?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Make me."

Logan kissed him, slow and deep, tasting like candy corn and home. Wade made a soft sound against his mouth, his scarred hands coming up to frame Logan's face with a tenderness that never failed to surprise him.

When they pulled apart, Wade was smiling, really smiling, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"Love you, you grumpy Canadian bastard," Wade whispered.

"Love you too, you insane asshole," Logan replied, the words coming easier now than they had the first time he'd said them.

They got ready for bed, Wade finally peeling off the witch costume, scrubbing his make up off although Logan chuckled at the slight green tinge that was stubborn and refused to go. Logan stripped down to his undershirt and boxers. When they climbed under the covers, Wade immediately plastered himself to Logan's side, his head on Logan's chest, their legs tangling together.

"Hey Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for earlier. On the patio."

Logan's arm tightened around Wade's shoulders. "Always."

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the mansion settling around them—the old building creaking, distant footsteps in the hallway, the wind rustling through the trees outside.

Logan felt Wade's breathing even out, felt the tension drain from his body as he drifted toward sleep. And lying there in the darkness, holding the man he loved, thinking about his daughter sleeping safely down the hall, surrounded by kids who got to be kids for one night...

Logan thought maybe, just maybe, he'd finally found where he belonged.

Chapter Text

After Halloween, where they went to a party at Vanessa's, Wade paced their apartment like a caged animal, which immediately put Logan on edge.

"What's wrong with you?" Logan asked from the couch, coffee halfway to his lips.

"Nothing's wrong. Why would something be wrong? I'm fine. Everything's fine." Wade's hands fluttered nervously, straightening a pile of magazines that didn't need straightening, adjusting a picture frame that was already perfectly level.

Logan set down his mug. "Wade."

"I invited Laura over."

"Okay...?" Logan said carefully, not sure where Wade was going with this.

"For today. Specifically. November first."

Logan's brow furrowed. "And?"

Wade stopped pacing, turning to face him. Logan could read the anxiety in every line of his body. "I did a thing. Research. Planning. I hope it's okay. I hope she likes it. What if she hates it? What if I fucked up? What if—"

"Wade." Logan stood, crossing to him in two strides and gripping his shoulders. "Breathe. What did you do?"

Before Wade could answer, there was a knock at the door. Al's voice drifted from her room. "Someone gonna get that, or are we waiting for it to knock itself down?"

Wade practically vibrated out of Logan's grip, rushing to the door and yanking it open.

Laura stood in the hallway, her backpack slung over one shoulder, dressed in jeans and one of the X-Men school hoodies. Her expression was curious, maybe a little wary.

"Hey," she said. "You said to come over?"

"Yes! Yes, come in, come in." Wade ushered her inside, his hands still doing that nervous flutter thing. "How was the ride over? Did you take the subway? Was it terrible? It's always terrible. We should get you a car. Logan, we should get Laura a car."

"She doesn't need a car," Logan said dryly.

"Really? I was stealing cars at seventeen. This would be an improvement."

Laura's lips twitched into almost smile as she stepped into the apartment.

"Hey, old man," she greeted Logan. Logan grinned.

"Hey kid."

Her eyes scanning the space. Logan watched her take in the organized chaos, the weapons, the bloodstained rug they kept meaning to replace, the surprising number of Golden Girls memorabilia and...

Her gaze landed on the corner of the living room, and she went very still.

Logan turned to look, seeing it properly for the first time. Wade had cleared out the corner near the window, moving aside his precious katana display and the small arsenal they kept "just in case." In its place was a small table covered with a vibrant cloth, orange and yellow marigolds in mismatched vases, and various supplies laid out carefully—colored tissue paper, scissors, glue, photographs, small decorative items. He wonders how he never noticed before.

"What is this?" Laura's voice came out smaller than usual.

Wade's nervous energy ramped up another notch. "Okay, so, I was doing research. About you. Not in a creepy way! In a... a caring way? A 'I want to know more about the people I care for' way. And I found out about your heritage. Your mother was Mexican, and the nurses who raised you in the facility, some of them were too, and I thought..." He gestured helplessly at the table as if that answered everything.

"I thought maybe you'd like to try the tradition and celebrate Día de los Muertos. Day of the Dead. Since it's a part of you. Your culture. And I know you never really got to explore that, and I just thought—" Wade trailed off, gesturing to the table.

Laura looked at him. Her voice came out rough, thick with emotion. "You did this for me?"

"Yeah, kid." Wade's voice softened. "I mean, if you don't want to, that's totally cool too. No pressure. We can just order pizza and watch Die Hard again and pretend I didn't get all sentimental and weird—"

"I want to," Laura interrupted. She looked at the table again, then back at Wade, then at Logan. "I really want to. I just... no one's ever..." She struggled with the words. "Thank you."

Wade made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been a sob. "Okay. Okay, good. Great. Excellent. So, uh, I have a plan. Well, sort of a plan. More like... guidelines? I watched a lot of YouTube videos."

Logan snorted. "Of course you did."

"Shut up, I was being culturally sensitive and educating myself." Wade moved toward the table, Laura following close behind, her eyes taking in every detail. "So, from what I understand, we're building an ofrenda. An altar. For people we've lost. To honor them and remember them and... yeah."

Laura reached out, her fingers hovering over the marigolds. "These are cempasúchil."

"Yes! Gold, uh, I can't pronounce it, but yes, those. The scent is supposed to guide spirits home." Wade stroked a petal. "I got supplies for pan de muerto too. That's the sweet bread, right? I found a recipe. We can make it tomorrow, for the actual day. Today we build the altar, tomorrow we celebrate properly. If... if that's okay with you?"

Laura nodded, not trusting her voice.

"I got tissue paper for papel picado," Wade continued, pointing to the colorful sheets. "We can cut designs into it. And I thought we could put up photos of people we want to remember. People who mattered to us."

Laura seemed to pause and then tugged off her backpack. She opened it and rummaged around inside, before she pulled out a worn photograph. Wade looked over her shoulder and there seemed to be a bunch of kids with some nurses. Without explaining, she gently placed it on the ofrenda.

Wade didn't say anything as he watched her, then he looked at Logan with an expression that was almost nervous. "Actually, I have something else. Another surprise. Logan, don't be mad."

"Why would I be mad?" Logan's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Wade pulled something from behind the couch, a wrapped package about the size of a picture frame. He held it out to Laura with both hands, like an offering.

"I pulled in a favor with Colossus," Wade said quietly. "And I spent a couple weekends at the mansion searching for this."

Laura took the package, carefully peeling away the brown paper wrapping. Underneath was a simple wooden frame, and inside...

Logan's breath caught.

It was a photograph. Old, slightly faded, but clear enough. Two men were outside on the veranda of the mansion that overlooked the gardens, both grinning at the camera with genuine warmth. One was Charles Xavier, younger than Logan remembered, his eyes bright and happy. The other, was Logan himself, except it wasn't. It was him, but not him. Younger looking even though his eyes were old, but were crinkled in real amusement, captured forever in one moment. Proof that Logan Howlett can smile.

"That's your Logan," Wade said softly. "The one from my universe. Your father." He swallowed hard. "I thought... I thought maybe you'd want him on the altar. To remember him. To honor him. Charles too—"

He cut himself off as Laura stood frozen.

"Oh fuck. Oh no. Fuck, I fucked up, didn't I?" Wade's voice pitched higher. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed, I should have asked first, this was stupid, I'm so stupid, we can take it all down right now—"

Laura moved.

Wade's entire body tensed, his hand instinctively moving toward a weapon that wasn't there, because for a split second his brain registered threat, registered her speed and trajectory, and thought attack.

But instead of claws or violence, Laura crashed into him with her arms outstretched, wrapping them around his waist and burying her face against his chest, the photo dangling from his grip.

She was hugging him. Laura was hugging him.

Wade stood frozen for a heartbeat, his arms held out to the sides, his breath caught in his throat. Then, slowly, carefully, like he was holding something infinitely precious and breakable, his arms came down around her shoulders.

"Oh," he breathed. "Oh, okay. This is... this is good. This is a good reaction."

Laura's shoulders shook, and Logan realized she was crying, really crying. He moved without thinking, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around them both, his larger frame engulfing them in warmth and safety.

They stood like that for a long moment, the three of them tangled together in the middle of the apartment.

Laura looked up at Logan, this Logan, and something passed between them. An understanding. An acceptance. She could love both of them. She could honor the father she'd lost while embracing the father she'd found.

Logan's own eyes were burning, his throat too tight for words. He just pulled them both close again, one arm around Laura, one around Wade, holding his family together.

"Thank you," Laura said again, her voice muffled against Logan's chest. "Both of you. This is... this is everything."

When they finally pulled apart, Wade clapped his hands together, his energy returning. "Alright! So! We have an afternoon of arts and crafts ahead of us. Laura, you're in charge of the tissue paper because you have the steadiest hands. Logan, you're on photograph duty—we need to decide who else goes on the altar. And I'll handle the marigold arrangement because I have an artistic eye."

"You have a what now?" Logan raised an eyebrow.

"An artistic eye! I'm very creative! I'm like... like Martha Stewart but with more murder!"

They settled around the kitchen table, the afternoon sun streaming through the window and painting everything in warm golden light. Al emerged from her room eventually, drawn by the sound of their voices, and when Wade explained what they were doing, she just nodded and said, "About damn time someone brought some culture to this shithole."

Laura worked on the papel picado with intense concentration, cutting intricate designs into the tissue paper—skulls and flowers and patterns that spoke of both death and celebration. Her movements were precise, controlled, each cut deliberate. Logan sorted through photographs as Al had added one of her friend Madge. And there, in the center, they placed the photograph of the other Logan and Charles.

Wade arranged the marigolds with surprising care, creating a vibrant burst of orange and yellow that seemed to glow in the afternoon light. He added candles, white ones, like the tradition called for, and small offerings. A bottle of whiskey for Logan, and the rest would come tomorrow

They worked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the snip of scissors, the rustle of paper, the occasional comment or question.

As the afternoon wore into the evening, the ofrenda took shape. It was beautiful in its eclecticism, bright colors and photographs, candles and flowers, offerings and memories. It looked nothing like the perfect altars Laura had seen in the YouTube videos Wade had watched and showed them, but somehow that made it better. More real. More theirs.

When they finally stepped back to look at their work, Laura's eyes were bright but no longer crying.

"Tomorrow we bake?" she asked.

"Tomorrow we bake," Wade confirmed. "I found a recipe for pan de muerto that looks relatively easy. We'll make it together, all of us. And then we'll sit with the altar and tell stories about the people we've lost. That's part of the tradition too, keeping their memories alive."

Laura nodded, then surprised them both by initiating another hug, pulling them close. "This is the best gift anyone's ever given me," she said. "Thank you for seeing me. For seeing all of me. Not just the weapon they made me, but the person I'm trying to be."

Logan's arms tightened around her. "You're not trying, kid. You already are. You're Laura. And you're exactly who you're supposed to be."

"Damn right," Wade added. "You're a badass, a sweet caring person, and apparently really good at paper cutting. Triple threat."

They ordered pizza for dinner, sitting around the altar and talking late into the night. Laura told them more about the nurses, about the few happy memories she had from the facility. Logan talked about the X-Men, about Charles, about the family he'd lost and the one he'd found.

And when Laura finally left, hugging them both tight and promising to come back early the next morning for the baking, Logan and Wade stood in their apartment, looking at the altar they'd built together.

"You did good," Logan said quietly.

"We did good," Wade corrected, leaning against him. "Team effort, with everything remember?"

Logan pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Yeah. Team effort."

They stood there for a long moment, the candles flickering, the marigolds filling the air with their distinctive scent, the faces of the dead watching over them with smiles frozen in time.

Tomorrow they'd bake bread and celebrate life and death and memory. Tomorrow they'd honor the people who'd made them who they were, but tonight, they'd given Laura something she'd never had before, a connection to her heritage, a way to honor her past while building her future, and the knowledge that she was loved completely and unconditionally.