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When Logan opened the door, the man behind it was the one who had saved them twice over - once from the Deadpools and once from the TVA. Now that he saw his face, Logan remembered the weird little exchange about Peter between all of the variants before he and Wade had run down into the subway. It had kind of gotten overtaken by almost dying permanently in his mind.
"Hi!" Peter said, shifting the box he was carrying to one arm so he could offer a hand to shake. "I'm Peter. Logan, right? Good to properly meet you!"
"That's right. Let me take that," Logan said, some long-ago trained in politeness kicking in. The bright, friendly attitude bringing out the Canadian in him, probably. "You, too. Thanks for saving our asses."
Peter handed over the box without complaint and stepped into the apartment as soon as Logan shifted out of the doorway. Made himself at home, really. He must be pretty familiar with the place.
"No problem, no problem," Peter said, stepping past Logan to walk into the kitchen. Logan trailed after him, feeling a little awkward. "Felt good to put on the suit, if I'm honest."
"Sugar Bear!" Wade called from the bedroom. "I hear your dulcet tones! I'm just finishing my beauty routine, I'll be right out."
"Don't yell across my motherfucking apartment!" Al yelled from the bedroom. "I'm trying to listen to Wheel of Fortune back here without your chattering mouth!"
"Don't come crying to me when the descriptive audio doesn't have half my flavor!" Wade yelled back.
"A woman can only take so much of you panting over Pat Sajak like a dog in heat!"
"Shows what you know! Ryan Seacrest is hosting now, and he isn't worth thirsting about. I'll be horny over the contestants instead!" Wade shouted over his shoulder as he slammed the bathroom door behind him.
"You got a new target for all your horny thoughts now! Tell him every little lusty idea that runs through your head and leave me out of it!" Al yelled.
"Don't worry, I'm going to do exactly that!" Wade yelled, a little louder. Then he turned back to Logan and Peter.
"Sorry you had to hear that, Peter," he said. "We have to establish dominance every so often. Logan, you're going to hear a lot of it if you stick around, so better get used to it." He sidled up close to Logan to elbow him companionably. Logan valiantly didn't shiver at the closeness, or give into his urge to lean in.
"It's fine, Wade," Peter said. "You're right, Pat Sajak really was kind of a babe back in his day."
"How dare you betray me like this," Wade said, clutching a hand to his heart. "He's a babe today. A true silver fox." He waved a hand in front of his face like he was fanning himself.
Peter shook his head, unloading thing after thing from his box - a bag of flour, a sifter, a scale. "Too much plastic surgery to be a silver fox," he said. "I prefer a man who ages gracefully." He cut his eyes over to Logan and gave Wade a sly grin.
Wade heaved a sigh and gave Logan a lingering glance, too. "You have a point there, sugar bear," he said. "There's a lot to be said for craggy and graying."
Logan cleared his throat and hoped the tips of his ears weren't red. "Pat Sajak was okay, but the guy who hosted Jeopardy was the real silver fox," he said, turning the sink on to wash his hands so Wade couldn't make eye contact with him.
"Alex Trebek? Taste," Wade said behind him, crowding up to Logan's side to stick his hands under the water instead of waiting his turn like a normal fucking person. "An excellent Canadian export, just like the two of us." He bumped Logan's shoulder with his and then shook off the excess water from his hands. Logan sputtered when some of it landed on his face, but Wade had already turned away to pull entirely too many paper towels off the roll to dry his hands with. "Now, Petey pie - yes, yes, I know, that's my nickname for another Peter, but he's just a teenager here so that would be weird - explain to me what we're using all those gizmos for."
"If you're baking gluten free, it's even more important that your measurements are precise, so we measure by weight," Peter said, and they were off to the races.
–
It turned out that following methodical, precise steps of baking first a gluten-free and then a gluten-free and vegan devil's food cake was something that Logan was well-suited for. Wade was clearly trying to listen and follow the instructions, but Logan was pretty sure what had to be ADHD was working against him. He was fidgety and impatient, pouring ingredients haphazardly into the bowl and only after checking the scale. Peter only had to carefully remove a spoonful from the top of the pile twice before Logan began to intervene, physically lifting Wade's elbow when the numbers on the scale ticked up too close to what they wanted and stepping in to add in the last few grams. Al had been right. It did take two of them to rein Wade in. Logan didn't mind, though. It kept them crammed in close, and he was starting to let himself enjoy that.
"There's so many rules," Wade complained to Peter. "How do you keep them all straight in your head? And how can you know when to change something if you have to be so careful with everything else?"
Peter hummed and gave Wade the wet ingredients to beat. (That part he did well at - the constant motion seemed to work well for him. Logan tried and failed to keep his eyes off the flexing muscle in Wade's arm.)
"People say that cooking is an art and baking is a science," he said, "but that's not quite true. They're both arts, but cooking is like painting. You can go pretty wild with paints and still end up with an art piece at the end. Baking is more like sculpture. You're creating something, but you're limited by the rules of the medium. A sculptor has to pay attention to physics to make sure their statue will stay up. But once they understand how those rules work, they can start to experiment in getting around them. There's a steeper learning curve with baking than cooking, but once you know how the rules work, you can start learning where to bend them."
Wade heaved a sigh. "I'm not much of a rule-bender, Pete," he said. "I'm more of a rule-breaker. Is this whipped enough?"
Peter peered into the bowl. "That's good," he said. "Cocoa and coffee next." He nodded to Logan, who carefully poured the mixture into the bowl. The room still smelled strongly of coffee, but now chocolate was intense on the air too. And Logan could still smell Wade over them both.
"You can construct and carry out a plan, Wade," he said. "I've seen you. It's like that."
Wade rolled his eyes. "You saw a plan I had to go back in time to correct," he said. "Not the first version."
"But you got the second one right," Peter said. "You can always try to make the cake again."
"And you don't have to do it alone, either," Logan said. He had to force the words out, but it was worth it for the way Wade smiled at him, bright and joyful, like a kid on Christmas morning.
"Exactly!" Peter said, beaming. "I'm here to help, and you have Logan now, too. We make a great team, don't we?"
Wade turned the grin onto Peter, although it changed a little. A little less soft, a little more mischievous. "A great team," he agreed. "We're going to get so good together we can open a bakery."
Peter laughed. "Let's aim for impressing Vanessa this time," he said. "The bakery can come later."
"I want to impress everyone," Wade said.
"Well, you're well on your way," Peter said.
Some part of Logan wanted to tell Wade that he didn't have to impress anyone, that everyone should be impressed with the lengths Wade went to for them already, that Logan couldn't handle how deeply he cared for his friends, the way he'd dragged Logan into them without a second thought. He kept the thought behind his teeth.
–
The cakes turned out better than Logan had expected, if he was honest. He and Wade both had stolen pieces of the cake trimmings to taste test, and it was rich, soft and chocolatey and with an excellent crumb, or so Peter said. Logan was sorry they'd have to wait to cut into them. Now they were cooled and layered, and Peter was turning the cake stand to show them how to ice.
"You can use an icing smoother, but I forgot mine at home," he said. "A spatula will be fine, though."
"It's not as pretty as your cakes, though," Wade said, whining a little. "I don't want lumpy icing!" It should have been annoying from a grown man. Instead, Logan found it a little cute.
"It's your first cake," Peter told him, patting him on the shoulder. "It's practically tradition for it to look like that."
Wade groaned and leaned backwards. "But I wanted it to be impressive," he said.
"What's the smoother like?" Logan asked. Maybe they could improvise. Wade's earnest desire to present Vanessa with the perfect cake struck him in the chest.
"Most of them are just very long straight blades or flat plastic," Peter said.
Logan extended one claw and showed it to him. "These work?" he asked.
Peter raised his eyebrows. "Well, we can certainly try," he said.
Wade clapped his hands together exactly the way he had when he'd seen Mary Puppins on the street while they ate shawarma. "Yes!" he said. "You're my savior, peanut." The smile Logan got for that lit something warm up deep inside of him.
Turns out, Logan's claws left a beautiful, perfectly iced cake behind them. It was the happiest he had been to use them in years.
–
They had loaded Peter's washed dishes into the box, written the message on the top of the cake in white icing - somehow, Wade really had managed to squeeze 'sorry you can't eat fast food fries!' any more on the top in a very passable cursive - put it in the fridge, and bid him goodbye until later that night before Wade turned to look at Logan with one of the most serious faces he'd ever seen on the man, second only to the way he'd looked when he'd told Logan he was the best Wolverine.
"Okay, before Ness comes over," he said to Logan, "we have to talk."
Something opened up in the pit of Logan's stomach. How had he ruined things already? Was it too obvious, the way he'd stared at Wade when he'd had that smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth? "About what?" he asked.
"You cannot be whorephobic to her," Wade said. "If you can't do that, you need to take Mary on a nice long walk when she comes over that ends when she leaves."
Logan stilled, baffled. "You're calling your girlfriend a whore?" he asked. Not girlfriend. Whatever. It wasn't what he'd expected from Wade, anyway.
Wade rolled his eyes, a full-body gesture that spoke to the amount of time he spent in the suit. "No, dipshit. Whorephobia, noun. A prejudice against or underlying discomfort with sex workers. Which you displayed so beautifully when you were attacking my entire existence. I'm not saying I didn't deserve it, but Vanessa didn't. Normally I would let her hand you your ass herself if you decided to be a grade A-1 dick about it, but a diagnosis of an incurable illness tends to throw you for a loop, and I don't want her to have to put up with it when she's already off balance."
Oh. Logan swallowed, remembering every bit of the vitriol that had poured out of his mouth in the goddamn minivan. He'd pushed that to the back of his mind, too. "I, uh. Shouldn't have said that. Any of it," he said, looking somewhere in the vicinity of Wade's ear rather than meeting his eyes.
"Well, I shouldn't have lied to you, but we're big on forgive and forget in this house - maybe not forget, but that's not the point. As long as you don't throw it in her face again like it's something to be ashamed of, we're square," Wade said. "We can work on actually unlearning all that later."
"What I said about you, too," Logan muttered, his gaze catching Wade's before skittering away again. "Shouldn't have said that either. I was just reaching for shit to be a dick about. Way more about me than either of you."
Wade sighed, a fond little sound. His face and voice had both softened. "Oh, peanut," he said. "If I didn't forgive you when you volunteered to get brain-fingered for a distraction, I definitely forgave you when we held hands and atomically disintegrated together. You can't really hold anything against a man who does something like that for you."
Logan couldn't speak for a moment, flush with forgiveness he didn't deserve. He would take it with both hands, though, like he had everything else Wade had given him so far. "I only did for you what you'd do for me," he said. "You're the best Deadpool, no matter what else I said."
"Logan," Wade said, and then nothing more for a few moments. "You really are the best Wolverine." He took in a shaky breath, heavy with the hint of tears, before he audibly swallowed them back and turned to look at Logan with a mischievous grin. "Even if you can't get the part where Vanessa isn't my girlfriend any more through your metal-lined skull."
–
Vanessa found him at the party, holding an enormous slice of cake that barely fit on her plate.
"Yeah," she said wryly, following his gaze. "I'm eating my feelings. Wouldn't you?"
"Probably," Logan admitted. He'd never contemplated having a dietary restriction himself - probably a good thing, given the years he'd spent surviving on beer, liquor, bar food, and the contents of vending machines - but it had to be an adjustment. Enjoying something she could eat made perfect sense.
"Wade told me I had you to thank for how pretty this came out," she said. "Gotta admit, that's certainly not my first - or third - thought about the claws. Pretty creative."
"You live long enough, you learn to get creative," Logan said. "Nice to have an alternative use once in a while."
"I bet," Vanessa said. "I just hope you washed them before you put them back in. Icing gives you the worst yeast infections. I can't imagine what it would do to your bloodstream."
"Uh…" Logan said, because no, he hadn't. In fact, he hadn't washed them before he touched the cake, either, and it was just now occurring to him he probably should have. At least he couldn't give anyone anything. But he wouldn't be spreading that around.
Vanessa burst out laughing at whatever was on his face. "You didn't, did you?" she asked. "Have you ever washed them, or do you just let them marinate in there, bad guy blood and dirt and all?"
"I've washed them," Logan said, a little too defensively.
"But not before you decided to repurpose them this afternoon, right?" Vanessa said.
"Uh… no," Logan admitted, caught out. "If it makes you feel better, I can't catch or give anything."
"Relax, honey," Vanessa said, patting him on the arm. "I used to pick up johns in a merc bar. Claw icing isn't anywhere near the worst thing I've had in my mouth." She shook her head, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "You and Wade deserve each other. He's the one that gave me that yeast infection in the first place," she said to him, leaning in and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Exactly the way Wade had earlier that day. Logan felt a pang to see the traces they'd left on each other.
"Uh-huh, and one of those STDs I told Logan about was because we both forgot to wrap it when you were still taking clients," Wade said, breaking off from his run to the kitchen to throw his arms over both of their shoulders. "So I don't want to hear it about your yeast infection again unless I can complain in detail about how annoying it was to have to go through three rounds of treatment because we got an antibiotic resistant strain of the clap."
Vanessa snorted. "I know you uhauled your new boytoy, but I think 'details of your treated gonorrhea' is still fourth date information, and you two are still on day… Three now?"
"Four," Logan said, "and he did tell me about the STDs day one." His heartbeat had picked up, but Vanessa could be joking. It was exactly the kind of joke Wade would make, and it seemed like they shared a sense of humor. Still, he went with it. He could play it off if this didn't go the way he was hoping.
"And this is the fourth date, anyway," Wade said, pulling back to count off on his fingers. "Lunch date at the diner, shawarma date the next day, baking today, and now the party. Four." He showed them the four fingers.
"Peter helped us bake today," Logan pointed out. "And spam makes for a pretty shitty lunch date."
"Peter is my emotional support human," Wade explained seriously. "He was helping me flirt with you. And let's not pretend that we've both had way worse than spam and rubbing alcohol. It was a good start, obviously, because now we're here, sharing a bed, less than a week later."
"That's how he works," Vanessa told him seriously. "He gets you in bed and then you don't want to leave, and next thing you know it's been a year and you're getting a ring pop."
Wade sighed. "Sadly, I don't think they make ring pops in sizes meant for these strong, manly hands," he said, threading his fingers through Logan's and bringing their joined hands up together to shake at Vanessa. "Or I might have tried already."
Logan squeezed Wade's hand, heart in his throat, and didn't let go when Wade let their hands fall. "What, are we completely skipping the letterman jacket phase?" he asked.
Wade gasped, touching his free hand to his chest. "Peanut! That was practically modern of you! Don't worry. We haven't gone to get you a new wardrobe yet. If you want to wear my letterman jacket until I can custom order a ring pop for those sexy thick fingers of yours, I'll buy one and give it straight to you."
Vanessa laughed at both of them." "When you get married, I better be able to eat the cake," she said. "Because someone needs to smash some into both your faces, and if it's either one of you, you'll probably start making out on the reception venue floor."
"Bold of you to assume we'll have a reception and not go directly to the wedding bed," Wade said, grinning at her.
She rolled her eyes. "The reception is after that, obviously," she said. "Get one fuck out of your system, then go eat dinner and cake so you have enough fuel for your all-night fuckfest."
"When you're right, you're right," Wade said sagely. He turned to Logan. "When I talk you to the altar, I'm going to give you the honor of having Ness as your best man, because I already promised that spot to Peter when I thought I would be marrying her. And no, you won't get a choice. That's going to be one of my conditions."
"A condition to a marriage you haven't even asked me about yet?" Logan asked, raising his eyebrows. Presumptuous. Even if he liked the assumption that of course that was where they were headed.
"Oh, we'll get there, peanut, I promise," Wade said, something dark and hot in his eyes. "Even if I have to wear you down for years."
"Maybe not quite that long," Logan said, and, pulse thundering in his ears, leaned in for a kiss.
Wade's mouth was warm and rough and tasted of coffee and rich chocolate. Logan kissed him slowly and thoroughly, determined to remember every bit of it as he sucked on Wade's tongue. When they finally pulled apart, Logan had to take a deep, shuddering breath before he could turn back to their conversation.
Vanessa was watching him knowingly. "See? He makes it so you don't want to leave."
Logan swallowed. "Yeah," he said. "He kisses me like that a few more times, he might as well order that ring pop right now."
Wade laughed, high and delighted, and after a moment, Vanessa joined him. Wade squeezed his hand, and Vanessa squeezed his arm.
Logan felt a little petty and small, remembering what he'd said about this woman simply for the sake of spite and his own self loathing. But he took a deep breath in and let it go. This was his new life. He'd do better now.
"A cake I can eat," Vanessa repeated. "I don't care if you have to bake it yourselves."
"We'll make sure of it," Wade promised, and Logan leaned close, pulling him in for one more kiss.