Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Wade Wilson stepped into his life. When he called out his name, when he stopped Logan in his tracks, he had offered something no one had offered Logan in a long time. Logan should have said no. Because in that offer there had been not only shelter and food, but companionship. And Logan from before would’ve been damned before he ever let anyone get close like- like they had, again. Logan, who was nothing but an animal, who killed and delighted in it. Who not only killed his enemies but had gotten his team, his family killed. Through selfishness, greed, and through anger. Logan who- accepted. Who accepted the shelter, and the food but especially the companionship no- the friendship.

Even as he agreed, he had felt the rolling coils of disgust heating him up from the inside. After all, this was how it started last time, and the time before that. And yet… He still smiled at Wade, and he-

Even after Logan’s angered words, Wade still extended an olive branch. An olive branch that, admittedly, led to a crack house with poor plumbing, limited electricity, and one bedroom (inside of which contained only one bed). But they managed.

It had been much more than just an olive branch, it was a gift. And so Logan had accepted it, gratefully. And here they were, months later. Here he was, years in the future and for every dream, hope, and fleeting thought that had ever passed through Logan’s mind over those last hundred years he had never expected to get here. Never expected to not be alone. Never expected his nights to contain laughter, bickering, talking, and most of all, life. And yet, here he was.

Wade Wilson was an observant man. Or at least, he thought he was. Months upon months of living together gave Logan an insight into the enigmatic spontaneous ADHD man that was Wade Wilson. He was, as Logan had come to learn, neither as dumb nor as stupid as he liked to project. He had a discerning look and a constant vigilance that made his steps spring.

Every twitch of his hand, flicker of eyes, or inhaled breath had a purpose. He could be anything and everything. A ruthless killer, a kind friend, and a doting father (he had a sickening streak of adoration that stemmed entirely from and for the dog.) He had friends, more than Logan had ever thought was possible. And not just for a man like Wade. His attachments seemed flippant, his behavior even more so. Yet… When he thought no one was looking, his fond smiles and even kinder gestures hidden behind his thoughtless exterior were something to behold.

He was so familiar to Logan, like the ripple of a faint memory. From a dream when you wake, still half asleep and try, grasping futilely to hold it with you. So beautiful that it fades before it can solidify… And Wade was beautiful. As beautiful as the month of fall, Autumn leaves in red and gold. It suits him.

Another thing about Wade was his ability to talk. The months leading towards this chill day in winter had built up a sort of dull shield against Wade's constant chatter. Not that Logan was overly bothered by the chatter, mindless and never-ending as it was. Regardless, walking the streets with a man who got increasingly excited about things ranging from a newly opened ice cream parlor to well-positioned sniper nests had its ups and downs. Especially when the man wouldn't shut up. Wade's brain-to-mouth filter, as Logan had long since discovered, was severely lacking, or entirely non-existent.

All the spending time with him had gotten Logan rather well adjusted to this alternate reality. This new and exciting world was a place where Logan could feel at home if he ever had before.

Celebrities, politics, and technology, all familiar, but all different. Wade was there to constantly educate Logan and so he found that the world as it never had been before was full of colors, shades, and spirals of interest. It made Logan… not happy, but hopeful. And that was almost as important, or more so. It was only rarely now that Logan felt those fleeting, weighted glimpses into his past, and they dragged him back to a time in which he didn’t have anyone to make him feel the world like Wade had. And what hurt the most, perhaps, was the fact that it was no one's fault but his own that he had ended the way he had in his home reality.

Today, a week from Christmas (a holiday that Logan was celebrating for the first time in years,) they had gone shopping. Not present shopping, no, that was apparently something to be done as last minute as possible. Logan hadn’t been reliably informed, but he still took Wade’s word for it.

No, they had gone grocery shopping. An activity that Logan had repeatedly promised himself he would never do again. Especially with one Wade Wilson but seeing as the last time he begged off Althea had cussed him out of the house, he had given in relatively easily this time. It hardly mattered, at any rate, he somehow always got roped into it regardless. Wade was nearly irresistible when he tried to be.

As all their shopping trips went Logan has to work hard to keep Wade distracted just long enough for him to buy vegetables. You’d be surprised at the things that Wade found and turned phallic. Much to his own amusement. That, or cooing over the cutest ones. Those turned out to be just as irresistible to Wade as Wade was to Logan.

Just last week Logan had to buy a ridiculously undersized pumpkin just to keep Wade from starting a riot. It had worked and Wade spent the walk back with it cupped between his palms whispering to it much to Logan's irritation. That trip made up yet another week of Logan carrying all of their spoils. It was only a little embarrassing when Wade shot him that quirked smile, eyes twinkling mirthfully and Logan had let it go. Like he always did.

If said that he was far gone, and would do just about anything for Wade… Well, he wouldn’t deny it. Wade could ask Logan to come, to stay, or to go and Logan would do it. All of it. If Wade had so much as breathed-

And it would probably be like that for as long as Logan lived. Logan was planning on leaving. Not far, no. And he would bring Wade with him. They could find an apartment together. For fucks sake Logan had a job, he was, if not entirely legally, an existing person. He could afford it, and he wanted to buy it himself. It would be small, probably smaller than this one but it would be with Wade.

However, the last, and only time Logan had ever broached the subject with Wade had been months ago, when Wade’s expression had closed into a neutral smile. He had left the conversation last as long as five minutes before he had jumped up and with some excuse ran off leaving Logan alone and confused, not a little angry even. Two days of Wade stepping around Logan in an uneasy flutter of anxiety before he had snapped, grasping Wade's arms to prevent another timely escape, and had said firmly for Wade to get whatever it was off of his chest or Logan would walk out of the damned house that moment.

Wade’s mask kept his thoughts and face from Logan. It had been a tense few seconds of breathless silence broken only by heavy breathing (for Logan, who had shouted, and for Wade-) before Wade brushed Logan off- “I’ve been busy is all.” To which Logan called bullshit.

They walked away from each other that day seething. Logan knew now why. For all that avoidance, all Wade had to say was that he didn’t want Logan to leave. All he had to do was ask. And he did.

Logan had been pulled aside, confessed to, and then kissed. And his desire to leave wasn’t discussed again. Probably not the most healthy response. But in Logan’s defense, Wade took up a lot of his time. In a good way. In a way that meant that Logan wouldn't change a thing.

Things returned to normal the next day. If normalcy consisted of kisses and a terrifying amount of domesticity. And had stayed that way for the next couple of weeks. Although Wade had an odd look on his face, watching him when he thought Logan wasn’t looking. Always just on the edge of Logan’s vision, always. Whenever Logan turned his head fully and locked eyes with Wade all he would do was widen his smile and blow him a kiss. But the moment he turned away Wade would return to his pensive mood.

Today was their first easy relaxed expedition together that wasn’t on a mercenary job, or off threatening a target. Which was often the same thing.

The only way into Wade’s heart, it seemed, was mindless violence. Something that Logan had never had a great grip on, and had been shamed for.

Here was someone who reveled in it just as much as he did, if not to a greater extent. Wade understood. It was one of the many things he did about Logan. That there was nothing quite like it. Blood for a sunset staining the ocean, the push and pull of muscles for a night at home, adrenaline for chocolate. Each traded. Each a step closer to Logan’s whole being. What made him who he was. No one like Wade, no one like Logan.

There were other ways to get that thrill, to achieve that moment in time when Logan felt like himself. It wasn’t surprising that on the list of activities it was just about anything to do with Wade. Grocery shopping was a little more surprising, considering how high up on the list it was and possibly one of the most frustrating things Logan does in his life. What with Wade refusing to carry anything.

It was those days when Logan felt just like any other exhausted parent dragging their overly energized toddler down the street. He had had the odd couple send him sympathetic nods of acknowledgment.

He always gave that same nod back. It was the barest interaction with these strangers that gave Logan a warm feeling of connection with the outside world.

Logan hefted the large plastic bag. They strained with the ridiculous amount of groceries. An amount of groceries that an equally ridiculous man insisted on, as well as an additional set of toothbrushes and an atrociously expensive set of cereal boxes.

Pure sugar. Absolutely disgusting.

Logan shifted his grip on the bags again as they walked. It was a clear and brisk day. Everyone had somewhere to be. Somewhere to go to. Someone with them, or someone waiting.

And just like that, the thought slipped away. There was hardly a spare moment to think, let alone talk when Wilson was doing enough for the both of them.

“-Oh look! And that’s where our precious princess attacked that Doberman! Don’t you remember, peanut? I had to pry them apart with a wrench-” Wade gazed at the spot fondly. He skipped forward, always a few steps ahead of Logan.

“Oh, and here was the first time our darling had her first kiss-”

“I hate to break it to you, bub, but that was not the first.”

Wade stopped abruptly and spun around with a gasp, “Take that back right now! I know we-”

“You” Logan cut in.

“We” Wade continued on determinedly, hand pressed to his chest, the picture of indignation, “We, we, oui. Wait, no, you can’t distract me that easily-”

Logan kept walking. Wade stumbled into step beside Logan, “As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me-”

“You did that all by yourself.”

“-I know we weren’t the best of parents for our priceless pooch-”

“Yours, and I’m sure she has a price-”

“-But we had better try our goddamn best for her- Wade huffed out, arms flailing.

“-Probably a hell of a cheap one-”

Wade was talking faster now, “-and if I say that’s where her first kiss was then that’s it-”

“Sure bub, not arguing with you.”

“-And how could you! Her one and only daddy-?” Wade stopped again, and tilted his head at Logan, finally catching up to what Logan had said, “You what?”

“Don’t call me that, and sure, whatever you say. And it's not just me, he has you...unless you're her mother?”

Logan had, at this point, stopped as well. His arms ached and he had the beginnings of a headache, so set the overladen bags down.

What a strange pair they made, standing in the center of the sidewalk. Wade dressed in his Hawaiian-themed hoodie, with its obnoxious neon colors, completely and utterly clashing. And then Logan, carrying much more than a normal man could, or in any case, should. His clothes weren’t as much of an eyesore as Wade’s were, but he had a face that was easily recognized.

They had been lucky today, only two people had come up and asked if they knew him from somewhere. Not that this little stunt in broad daylight would help keep that number low.

“I’m not arguing with you, bub.”

Wade stared at him unconvinced. Unconvinced, or in shock. Logan rarely vocally agreed with him, it was a point he tried to make.

“What can I say that will get you shut up? That she had her first kiss- and let me remind you, we’re talking about a dog- in a side alley? She did. It was lovely and now she’s going to buy a house in Vermont and have a whole litter of puppies. Happy? Now for fucks sake can you just carry some of your own weight?”

Wade's lips twitched in a small smile before he put his self-righteous persona back on with a sniff, “You know, it was very romantic. Scared the everloving Marvel Jesus fuck out of that Doberman.”

“If you say so.” Logan reached down and hefted the groceries up.

Though much to his surprise Wade swooped in and swung half of Logan’s load onto his own shoulders, still talking just as fast and loudly as before, “And then immediately afterwards it turned into a brawl.”

“I know, Wade, I was there.”

Wade sighed happily, “You know, honey bear,” He drew the last word out deliciously, “it really reminds me of the first time we met.”

“I’m aware.”

Wade smiled dreamily, swinging the groceries from side to side, “Right there in that bar. Oh, it was the first time I'd ever seen anyone look at Death like that. Like I did. Oh, that glorious beauty.”

Logan snorted, eyeing the wildly spinning bags. There was a reason that Logan did the manual labor. Wade worked like he wanted to turn anything and everything he touched into a smoothie. For a devoted dog owner like Wade claimed he was, it was hard to watch him attempt to blend Mary, and had had to remove the puppy from Wade’s reluctant arms on several occasions.

Setting the dizzy creature down had led to a few sad minutes of Mary stumbling drunkenly around. He made a note to keep any and all drugs away from their dog. Dogpool or not.

“I was suicidal.” Logan pointed out.

Wade blinked, and sent Logan a sideways grin, “Oh, I am too.”

Am, not was. Small, inconsequential, but so large that it eclipsed all else. It meant the world to Logan.

They were at the top of their stairs now. And with the faintest feelings of sadness, Logan realized that their walk was over.

Wade whistled and tripped down the stairs happily. He dropped his groceries by his feet and after a few moments of fumbling decided against a key and kicked the door open instead.

“Huh, I coulda sworn I locked up when we left,” He mused, chucking the groceries inside, “Unless Blind Al’s gotten back to her sly old ways. Out and about are you now Al? Are you in? Please for the love of Marvel Jesus don't let me walk in on old people sex” He turned to Logan, “Which so fine, old people sex is totally cool. You go, guys. But still, it would be like walking in on my parents.” He shuddered and disappeared inside.

Logan stalled outside. He could hear Wade’s “Oh here’s my little princess! Come here you little monster.” Accompanied by ecstatic yapping.

He took too long apparently, though it seemed like only a few moments before Wade stuck his head back outside. Mary Puppins was lapping at his face from her less-than-advantaged spot hooked under his arm.

‘You coming in, angel? Or you can just stand there, I’m sure nothing you got there needs refrigerating.”

Logan just shook his head before he stepped heavily down. He brushed past Wade and Mary, both of whom seemed less than happy about it. Mary even went so far as to wine pathetically when she couldn’t chase after him. So when Wade finally set her down she scrambled after Logan. Wade not too far behind.

In the kitchen, Logan set everything down. He flexed his arms tiredly. That was before Mary had caught up to him, and then he had to spend a few minutes petting her. When she was finally sated he straightened up and turned around. Wade was leaning against the wall behind him. He was also absently chewing on the tip of his fingernails, head tilted with an odd look that flickered on and off of it.

Logan frowned, “You want something bub?”

Wade grinned around his fingers. He nodded upwards, “Al isn’t home, I must've left the door unlocked, and your kitten licks are up.”

Logan lifted and ran his hands through his hair, trying, if futilely, to flatten it all out.

“Ah no, I wasn’t making fun of you,” Wade cried, pushing himself off of the wall, “They’re cute. Leave them alone.” He swatted Logan’s hands away and focused on twisting Logan’s hair up again. He sighed dramatically, “I never understand why you do that baby, and I can never get them right after you-” He waved his hands violently trying to convey the amount of frustration he was feeling, “Bastard.” He finally finished.

Logan watched him amusedly. Wade pointed at him, waving his finger distractedly, “And don’t look so smug about it.” Logan swayed quietly, Wade leaned up against him. They stood together contentedly before Wade suddenly jolted from underneath Logan’s chin.

“You know, Logi? I could’ve sworn it was only yesterday that you came home.”

Logan didn’t answer, he just lightly rested his arms on Wade’s shoulders.

“Just yesterday.” He trailed off, “You know, I think I have a propensity for adopting stray things. Really cute, handsome, little things.”

“Wade,” Logan pushed him back a little bit, frowning slightly.

Wade just stared back with an almost giddy smile, “Yes, Pookie?”

“I thought we both agreed that we wouldn’t lie to Mary-”

“Dogpool.” Wade reminded.

“-We don’t need to give her a complex, not now.”

Wade laughed this time, bright and ringing, “Yes,” He agreed, “We’re talking about Mary, Mary Puppins, that's who..”

Logan raised an eyebrow at this, “We talking about someone else, handsome?”

Wade leaned in and tucked his head under Logan's own, still smiling, “Whose complex are we avoiding now? You spoil me. Besides, she can’t look in the mirror, it's not like she’d know we were lying.”

“And when she goes outside and sees all the other dogs looking a fuckload better than she does?”

“Tch, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t actually care about things like that. But things that do go on Mary Puppin’s list are,” Wade listed, leaning away slightly so he could tick each one down on his fingers, “Eat, sleep, fuck, and kill.”

Logan tugged Wade towards him again, “I know, I was there.”

“I still can’t believe the way she went after that Doberman like that. She’s just like her daddy.” Wade sighed happily, hands messing with Logan's shirt collar, “Eat, claw, fuck, then back to bed. That’s my kind of agenda, every day, all day.”

Logan groaned, “That was one time, and it's going to stay that way.”

Wade wiggled, and Logan could just see his wicked grin of insinuation, “Fuck, don’t remind me.” He lamented, “I go into a deep depression whenever I remember that it was only one time. And I thought you loved me! How unfortunate. Well, I suppose I have to go and languish on the bed in minimal clothing.”

He sighed dramatically and fell limp, forcing Logan to catch him. He was just a little too heavy for Logan. Which was disappointing, because any other day Logan would have picked Wade up and just carried him everywhere. He had done it before, and he would do it again.

Wade had a less-than-surprising ability to latch on and not let go. He had joked before, whilst wrapped around Logan like an octopus, that he would've been Spider-man if the casting department hadn't thought he was too ugly. The role was, as he had explained, set into three different categories; Young, British, or Tobey Maguire.

He was neither, it seemed. Not that Logan knew who Tobey Maguire was, or what Wade was talking about. Though he disagreed vehemently with Wade's usual self-deprecating style of existence and had said as much.

Logan let Wade dangle for a moment. His arms looped around Logan's neck, eyes fluttering shut, just as dramatic as ever.

Logan snorted, “Alright, point taken, bub, you can stand now.” Wade mumbled something but remained lax. “You have legs, bub. I'm not carrying you around today.”

Reluctantly Wade let go, slowly slumping to the floor until he was sprawled out completely horizontal. He stared up at Logan, as Logan stared down at Wade.

He finally smiled, nudged Wade's side with his foot before turning around, and ignoring him. The only way to get anything done around here was to do just that. Wade thrived on attention, what else was new?

He started opening the many bags of produce, and after a few minutes of dejected silence Wade groaned to a stand. He shook himself out, “Aw, peanut, and just when I needed you most.” He was teasing, and Logan knew he was, but that didn't stop a pang of guilt flashing through him. Followed by a sharp sting in his chest when he inhaled.

The room stayed silent, broken only by the shuffling of plastic bags, and Wade’s own quiet humming. He was tapping his fingernails on the countertop. The air was sweet and contented.

However, inevitably Wade got bored of watching Logan. He stretched, and wandered out of the kitchen with a- “Where is Al? I could’ve sworn-”

Logan huffed a laugh. Another thing in the long line of things about Wade Wilson; he was ADHD as fuck. Not that it really bothered Logan, even when they were having special moments together. Being flexible had become something of a second nature to him now. Some days Wade would have them sleeping until noon, others they would be up before dawn. Although that was more of a Wade thing than anything else. Besides, now that Logan wasn’t waking, living, and falling asleep hungover he wasn't so irritable and it wasn’t a problem.

Logan rolled his shoulders with a groan. His whole body felt tense and slightly sore. Nothing too worrying. He had been working in construction now, doing a lot of heavy lifting.

He was a little warmer in the kitchen. Out of doors though it had not snowed yet, nor would it for a while, it was still as cold as ice.

He started in earnest now in putting away the groceries, sticking them in their various allotted slots in the fridge.

Wade had been against vegetables from the beginning. Logan learned about this particular distaste for them when he had opened the refrigerator for the first time Logan had found it full to the brim with various objects that probably weren’t supposed to be, well, in a refrigerator. Or anywhere near it, for that matter.

Any time Logan couldn’t find the remote the first place he checked was there, and that's where he usually found it. Cold and reproachful. Usually- no, always Wade’s fault. And as he had said in his defense, “What? I got snacky, it's not my fault I got distracted.”

Now at least there was a small section carved out between the TV dinners, and tubs of ice cream was a vegetable section.

And it was true that he himself was far from a healthy eater, or healthy in any aspect come to think of it. But he owed Wade, and himself, a better life now. So he had pushed through Wade's protests and forced them to eat something “healthy” at least twice a week.

Logan shivered and rubbed his hands on his pants, considering their options. They’d probably order in tonight. Logan wasn’t in the mood to attempt cooking, or to deal with Wade’s version of it or his kind of food. He was also so damned cold. Out in the living room something crashed and there was a shout and a loud “Motherfucker!”

He stepped into the hallway and pulled on a jacket. There was another deafening crash in the living room but when he poked his head in all he saw was Wade sprawled out on the sofa with Mary Puppins in turn sprawled on him. He was absently petting her while he scrolled on his phone.

It was a calming sight. The TV hummed in the background, quiet voices carrying out to the rest of the dingy apartment. Logan felt the corner of his mouth tick up in a smile.

It went down just as quickly when a wave of heat washed through him. God damn it, as if he couldn't get five minutes without his body doing this. He stripped the jacket off, frustrated, and didn't acknowledge Wade's wolf whistle. He stalked back into the kitchen.

He rested his hands on the counter, pressing them downwards just to feel something other than this. Whatever “this” was.

His bones ached. It happens sometimes. His skin felt too tight and his temple throbbed. He didn't drink anymore, he hadn't for a long time. At least, not in the staggering amounts that he was used to.

Why was this happening? Why did it keep happening? He brushed his hands against his skull and they came away damp. With a grimace, he dismissed the fleeting but tempting urge to take off his shirt, and then maybe some more.

It was a long moment before another wave of heat crashed. And then another. His legs weakened and he toppled over. He might've said something, called out, but it was weak in his ears. Mouth filled with blood, and his lungs fighting him- he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

It happened quickly and it was over in mere minutes. But in those minutes, those few minutes elongated into hours. Time extended, perverted. Hours of falling. Hours of Wade talking, begging. Hours of fire burning under Logan’s skin. And then it was over. But to Logan it felt like an eternity.

The Wolverine didn't panic. The Wolverine wasn't afraid. But- Logan wasn't the Wolverine. He wasn't what they thought he was. He could panic, and he was afraid. The people's voices on the TV out in the living room warped. Rising and falling, spinning and colliding. They echoed and quickly drowned out all other noise.

The only thing he could see was the old flickering light in the ceiling. It hung from the ceiling by a few electrical chords, firm and unmoving. As it always was–but it was moving now. And Logan felt nausea rising as he watched the light swing. Left. Right. Left. Right. Round and round.

It flickered and finally sputtered out leaving Logan in darkness. It was so black, and everything ached and ached. And he couldn't feel, but everything hurt. He wanted to curl up and make it stop. He wanted to– he wanted Wade.

Through the haze of pain and the reeling never-ending sounds that circled he thought he heard his name. Just the faintest whispers. Logan. Logan. Logan. And all he could think was Wade. Wade.Wade!

He wanted to scream, and he might have. He wanted to feel something other than this agony. Without meaning to, without knowing that he had even moved he felt pressure on his face and he lashed out.

Logan. Logan. God damn it, Logan.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

His face was wet. It fell into his eyes, down his cheeks, and into his mouth. His arm was heavy, and down it ran rivers of blood. Blood that fell on Logan's face, into his eyes, and curled around his tongue.

And with it was the feeling that he wasn't alone. He wasn't alone. Logan wasn't alone.

Someone groaned. It could've been Logan. It could've been Wade. No, it was Wade. Logan forced his eyes open and willed the darkness until it receded fully. The light was still swinging. Gravity forced its crushing weight down, squeezing Logan’s skull, seconds from shattering. His arms tingled, pins and needles, hundreds of them. They climbed and climbed.

“Logan. Fuck! I-”

Black. White. Black, and white. Dark. Light. Red and- Red. Logan knew it, knew it in every way that ever mattered and he was drawn to it. Pulled, and pulled. Dragged through the heavy waters of unconsciousness by the thin fishing line that was, in all senses of the word, red. Pulled to that sparkling, dull, dry, dead, red. Soft, smooth, heavy. And with that he latched onto it, held on tight.

“Hey, hey, this’ll be just fine, there's people I can call, you'll be alright. Logan?” A rough cough, “I know you can hear me, fuckin’ cat.”

Logan's arm was weighted like lead, but he–with every last bit of strength reached out towards Wade. Wade who, with a startled gasp, pushed forwards. And deeper, tearing gaping holes in his flesh. Flesh that was already letting out a gentle bubbling flow of blood.

“Hey, peanut.” And he sounded relieved. So relieved. Wade reached out a bloody hand, fingers just out of reach of Logan's face. “Maybe you could just wake up enough for me to-” and he laughed, near hysterically, his other hand on– on-

And clutched between Wade's fingers was the thing holding them together but keeping them apart. So far apart.

Held there were his claws stitched through Wade’s ribs, with a surgeon's skill. Ugly, ugly things, that glistened violently. And Logan hated them. Hated them with fire even as he burned.

They remained there though, unsheathed in all their glory. Like- like they belonged there, inches away from Wade’s heart, encircling it like it was precious. So very precious.

“Ow, fuck, okay. Just breathe.” Wade murmured, “I'm not entirely sure how this works, let's just- yes, there we go.”

Between Logan's flickering sight and consciousness Wade had somehow slid himself off of Logan's glorified steak knives. In Logan's more aware moments, he felt Wade's hand cupping his cheek, his other one clutching his phone. Wade fluctuated between yelling into the phone and leaning down to whisper to Logan. In his less aware ones, all he could see was that light. Swingin, swinging, swinging. Left and right. Constant dizzying movement.

Minute by minute, word and word. Hundreds of words. All whispered to him. Just for him.
And the last thing he remembered, the last thing that he felt was Wade's hand. His fingers gently caressed him.

“I love you, Peanut. So fucking much. I love you,  Logan, don't you forget it.”

And then everything evaporated and with it, Logan floated away, and then it was over.

The world was fuzzy, and everything was bright. Agonizingly bright. There were murmured voices, perhaps. Logan wasn't quite sure if there were voices, he actually wasn't sure of a whole lot right now. But it was the voices that helped him.

One voice, in particular. It was there, volume rising and falling erratically, but there. Something solid, and real.

Logan groaned and tried to lift his hands up but they were yanked back by sharp stings and length upon length of chords.

The world swam when he tried to open his eyes, clean white bright lights embedded in the ceiling. The room smelled sterilized. It reeked overwhelmingly of anesthesia, but underlying that wretched stench was sharp anxiety.

He tried to blink and rub away the fog. Every movement pulled at his skin until he couldn't take it anymore. With a pained sigh, he pushed himself upright. Several needles tugged out of his skin and clattered to the floor.

The voices, or voice, pitched higher and then came closer. The tone sounded exactly like Wade when- well, when a lot of things happen actually. Whenever his favorite actor comes on, when his food finishes warming in the microwave. Whenever Logan says something that reveals how little he really knows about modern society and life, whenever he behaves like a “cute but hopelessly lost kitten” as Wade adoringly put it.

“Well, hey there, Pookie. You've joined the land of the living. I know, trust me, Death is such a devious siren but don't listen to her, she's as much of a liar as she is sexy. And she is, very.”

And there was Wade. He smiled, head tilted, eyes crinkled. There was a seat beside the bare bones bed that Wade easily slid onto. He scooted closer and rested an elbow on the bed, propping his head up with it.

“I can't believe you were almost pulled out right from under my fingers. And heart, for that matter.” He laughed. But he always did that. There were tinges of worry on the corners of his eyes, but in the folds of his smile, there was relief.

Wade absently reached out and came away with another needle. Logan couldn't look away from him.

“You really had me worried there. You just- went down.” Wade bit his lip, “How much do you remember?”

Logan just shook his head wordlessly. His throat was sore, it throbbed. Had he screamed? He couldn’t- couldn't quite-

“You ah-” Wade’s smile strained slightly, “said a lot of things. I think you forgot where you were sometimes.”

“What did I say?” His voice, broken from- unuse, startled Wade. Something. Flickered across his face before it smoothed over. The response took a moment.

“You didn't say a whole lot,” He settled on, “nothing super important.”

Logan grimaced and shifted in place. Wade leaned forward, arms reaching out behind Logan. He tugged wordlessly until Logan was far enough forward that his pillow could rest comfortably behind his back and support him.

Wade didn't immediately sit back down. His hands coming up to cradle Logan's face, fingers brushing against his skin like he couldn't believe Logan was there with him. And Logan wanted to shut his eyes, wanted nothing more than to lean into the touch but something stopped him. If his eyes were shut for too long he might go back.

He couldn't remember, but he felt the fragmenting remnants of his nightmares. He could still feel that icy blackness.

Wade squeezed him, a gentle reminder. “It's alright.”

“It's alright. I'm alright.”

Wade beamed at him, chasing the shadows away, “You're alright.” He repeated. He then laughed, “You're alright.” He said it again.

Wade had that hazy look in his eyes that meant he was either about to set to on a tub of ice cream or jump Logan's bones. He was, in fact, moments away from letting Wade do just that. But they couldn't- not here where- here?

“Where are we?”

Wade looked only the barest bit embarrassed, “X-Mansion.”

Logan stared at him, “We’re where?”

Wade's embarrassed quirk of his lips fully formed into a cheeky grin, “The X-Mansion.  There's very few people who knew your whole,” he waved at Logan, as a general direction, “Wolverine thing well enough to be able to actually help you and very few who would want to help you and,” he shrugged, “even though you're not the same- you meant a lot to a whole bunch of people and they wanted to help, even with me attached.”

Wade paused for a moment before he patted Logan's cheek and jumped up from his seat. He crossed the room until he was just inside the doorframe. He pulled off one of his shoes and hopped until he could finally slip off one of his socks. He carefully, and quietly pulled the door open and hung the sock on the handle. He returned to the bed and hesitated before Logan reached out to him. He supported Wade as he clambered into it with him. It creaked ominously from their combined weight but held.

“Was that completely necessary? A sock? Really?”

Wade laughed again, this time far more relaxed than earlier, “It's to let them know that you're awake. Mutually agreed on as a signal, just so you know.”

“They don't like you very much do they?” He finally said.

Wade settled half on, half off of Logan, tangling their legs. His head resting on Logan's shoulder.

He exhaled, his warm breath brushing against Logan's skin. Logan could feel Wade's faint but present smile against his neck, along with his ice-cold nose.

Wade lowered his voice until it was a whisper, “Well, it took some hours of negotiating. They weren't happy with the first few hundred of my ideas but we eventually found one that stuck. Or until they were so sick of me that they finally agreed to something. Which is good because I was kind of running out of ideas.”

Logan just hummed in response.

It was quiet, all quiet but for the gentle whirring of the ceiling fans.

“They know.”

“Know what, bub?”

Wade sat up until he was facing Logan completely, “They know that you don't want to see them,” He hesitated, “ever. Yet another thing they weren't super happy about.”

Logan caught Wade's wandering fingers, hooking them between his own. He felt- relieved. Perhaps more so than when he saw Wade when he first opened his eyes. And that was awful.

“What else are they not happy about?” He prodded.

Wade moved their hands back and forth between them, swinging them gently, absently, “They thought I did this to you. That it was my fault, and I- I don't think they were wrong-” he stopped talking, instead pulling them closer together.

Logan didn’t have a response. How could he? So he tugged their still clasped hands so that their arms touched and everything was close and curled together. And they laid there, and hours passed. Just the two of them, together.

It wasn't Wade's fault. It had always been Logan's fault. Always. But he'd never been brave enough to tell Wade that. And he'd run. He'd always run. But maybe, he wouldn't, not this time.

His body tingled and his eyelids were weighed down. But he couldn't sleep. Not without visions of a swinging light, of bloody hands, and agonizing pain. And Wade.

Wade had cried. Logan couldn't remember it, but he could hear it. In his dreams, or wherever he goes when he shuts his eyes. Ugly racking sobs.

There were a lot of things Logan wanted, questions he needed answered, and things he had to say. He wanted to run his hands down Wade's chest, feel for the gouging wounds that should've been there. Wanted to know that they weren't. Wanted to know that they were both living and breathing. That they would- could rise and fall in tandem, that everything would be okay.

But he didn't ask. He didn't ask what had happened. He didn't ask why he had collapsed. If it had happened to- to the Logan before him, well, it wouldn't be all that surprising if it happened to him too. And, well, it would make sense. He would always be the worst Wolverine, the worst Logan. If his own body was turning on him and killing him- well, this universe knew he wasn’t from here. That he came from somewhere else.

“You're the best, Logan, of everything, out of anything.” Gentle touches, soft caresses on Logan's skin. “There's so much I need to tell you, and I-” Wade paused, “I thought we had all the time in the world-”

“We still do.”

“Six days, Logan. Six.” Wade pushed a little closer, even though they were pressed as tightly close as humanly possible. But then again, they weren't exactly human, “I just want to be near you. I’m not letting you out of my sight. That's a threat, Pookie, a fucking threat, do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Good,” Wade grumbled, relaxing again, “hard to tell sometimes.” and they stayed like that.

And Logan found he didn't mind the dark so much anymore. Those flashes, bursts of memory still exploded behind his eyelids like fireworks. But always just underneath that was Wade. Wade's weight, his warmth, just… Wade. And so Logan fell into a fitful sleep. 

They snuck out in the night. Not on the same night, not that first night when Logan woke up for the first time. But it was at night. The shadows made the hallways dusty, rippling with half-written thoughts from a Logan who had lived here before.

It took them two days before Wade agreed to leave. Two long days. And when they slipped away, Wade leading the way, Logan's hand clutched tightly in his own had felt- oddly reminiscent of when Logan had snuck down his own mansion’s hallways. Someone else's hand in his own, a bright smile reflected back at his own. Laughter. It felt so similar. So similar.

But that echo was missing something. Not the hand to hold, or the strong, near overwhelming wave of affection that Logan felt when he followed that hand back to its owner.  It was missing Wade. But that wasn't it.

Wade's smile was brilliant, even as it was strained. Wade was upset. With him? Maybe. Most likely.

In the moonlit dark, Logan thought he saw a familiar figure, or two. He could be remembering. But then again he could- But he wouldn’t. He ignored it like he ignored everything from his past. Like how he made himself forget their faces, painted over their names, and wiped it all out. He didn't need them now, not like he needed them then.

Hearing the familiar clicking of their lock, and the creak of their door was- it was nice. The moment Logan stepped back into their home he was greeted by the smell of dried blood.

Wade pushed past him, disappearing into the bathroom. He emerged after some shuffling in the cupboards with a wet cloth and a spray bottle that trailed a hint of lemon.

He directed Logan to the coach and went to the kitchen. Logan made his way around the side of the couch and sat down. He stared up at the ceiling. It was different, it was filthy. It had stains. Bloodstains, stains from food, water leakage. It was perfect. The only source of light was from the lamp in the corner which glowed a dull golden shine.

The walls were speckled with reflected glimmers of light. Logan tilted his head, and there was the source, twinkling merrily in the corner. A small, dingy, wilted tree, its branches drooping with ornaments, tiny plastic lights blinking on and off. The underneath of the tree was almost bare, except for two or three carefully wrapped presents. None of which Logan had put there, but they sat, full of love and care, undoubtedly for him.

When he finally tore his gaze away from the tree, and looked back, Wade was standing in the doorway. He stood exactly where Logan had stood before- all of this. And he had such a fond look on his face that it hurt.

Wade smiled softly and held up his phone as the softest strains of Christmas music started playing. He set it down and came up to the couch, his hands coming to rest on Logan's shoulders over the sofa back.

“Merry Christmas, Logan.”

He leaned into Wade's arm, letting his hands curl around his cheeks. Wade ran his thumbs up and down, small gentle touches.

Logan really wanted to kiss him right then. The tree, the presents. They didn't mean anything to him, not by themselves, not when most things didn't. But- Wade. When he put the tree there and when he wrapped the presents- just Wade, well, then it meant a whole lot more than anything Logan had ever been given. And he had been given Wade's heart.

Wade started humming along with the music. His hands left Logan's shoulders and he came around the side of the couch, flopping down, now singing at the top of his lungs. Logan caught him as well as he could and pulled Wade until his head was resting comfortably on his lap. Wade stopped singing. He stared at Logan with such admiration, such love.

Logan couldn’t help himself and leaned down. When they separated Wade laughed, and tugged at Logan's hair where his hands were now tangled.

“No,” he whined, “don't look at me like that. It's your kitten licks.” He pulled at them again, far more gently, “You should take care of them more, you know I find them absolutely adorable.”

Logan had to kiss him again, just for that.

The music swelled, a woman and man singing together in perfect harmony. They were in tandem, Wade and Logan. And would be that way for the rest of their lives, however long or short they would be. And Logan had every belief that they would be long, happy years. They were singing their own song in every moment that they spent together. Like those singers, they would sing in harmony till the end of their days.

Wade pulled back. They were both breathing heavily now. He took Logan's face in his hands.

“I almost lost you.” His voice wavered.

Logan leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together with a quiet, “I know.”

“You almost went the same way the last one did.” It sounded half joking, but the humor wasn't quite there.

“I know.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Why didn't he? Why didn't Logan tell him? Tell him that he had burned every day? That his heart had skipped? That all his symptoms, problems, and hurts paled in comparison to Wade himself who hurt Logan more than anything, or anyone had ever before.

How? By Wade's insistence that Logan deserved the world, that he deserved more than that, that he deserved the whole damned multiverse. By his careless gestures, like when he lifted up the sheets for Logan even when he was barely awake. Or when he, as said before, reluctantly cooked “healthy” meals for them on the days that Logan returned late and was unable to himself. By his unselfishness, when he was fundamentally a selfish person.

And so was Logan. He was the most selfish of them all. He coveted Wade. Because Wade made him human. Because Wade also let him be an animal. He was selfish because he didn't say anything. He was selfish because he hurt himself and by doing so he had hurt Wade. He had hurt himself because he had thought he deserved it. He had hurt himself, by not helping himself when he first noticed that there was something wrong.

Logan was selfish. But Wade still loved him. And he had realized that far too late.

He found himself here, by Wade's side. And he wasn't about to lose it.

He thought all this, and more. But when Wade opened his eyes, and asked again, “Why didn’t you say you were in pain?”

He couldn't answer.

Wade waited for him to say something, anything before he dropped his head down onto Logan's chest, “Fuck, Peanut. Next time-”

“Always.”

Wade tapped his fingers against Logan's collar, “I almost didn't get what I wanted for Christmas, did you know that Logan? I almost-”

“I'm sorry.”

Wade sat up and kissed him angrily, “You fucking say that now-” he glared at Logan, pressing a threatening finger on the exact spot his head had been resting on a moment ago, “but then you go and self-deprecate the hell out of yourself and you and I both know there's only room for one of us in this relationship. You're being selfish, so fuck off and let me do my job.”

A perfectly reasonable request. Logan nodded slightly, “Okay.”

Wade eyed him suspiciously, “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, fuck me.”

And Wade just laughed. Then he kissed Logan, and then he did it again.

Logan nuzzled past Wade’s smile and his lips, hugging him tightly.

“They were wrong, Wade. They were never right.” About a lot more than just that.

Wade understood. His breath hitched and he hugged Logan just as tightly. Arms wrapped around each other. In a heaven of their own.

“Let’s get an apartment,” Logan said suddenly, surprising Wade and himself.

Wade leaned back in confusion, “Us?” He asked.

“Who else?”

Wade laughed and kissed him.

Later, much later, Wade would laugh and kiss him again, “I always would’ve said yes. You’re such a coward, peanut. Just ask me. Just ask.”

But that would be for later.

Now, it didn’t matter. Logan was home. He was fine. They were fine. Wade had said yes. And it was Christmas. Everything, however broken and falling apart it seemed was okay.

And when Wade’s breath evened and slowed, arms wrapped around Logan's waist like there was no tomorrow Logan finally played with the idea of sleeping.

The first cracks of dawn peaked around the corners of the grey city's walls. It snuck through the cracks of the curtains, just dull enough not to take away from the glowing beauty that was Logan's Christmas tree.

It was Logan’s life, and he wasn’t alone anymore, not when he had Wade. Always Wade. His Wade. And maybe he hadn’t been all that alone before, it just took him some time to fully accept it.

Logan shut his eyes, humming softly to himself along with the music, and smiled.

Merry fucking Christmas.