Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wade had a routine.

It was the first time in his life he'd gotten to have anything even resembling structure, and for all he expected to hate it, it was growing on him. It had been for a while now, come to think of it.

Step 1: Wake up next to Logie-Bear. (Squeee!) Logan's alarm always got them both up because he had to go do teacher-ly things waaaaay before the bar opened. 

Step 2: Meds, take a piss, go back to sleep. Lo-Lo liked to watch him take his anti-psychotics in person and he'd be so mad if Wade skipped 'em. And Logan was hot mad, but Wade figured he only got so many fuck-ups in this unicorn of a relationship, and he was trying to save some for when he really needed to use them.

Step 3: Wake up again. Feed Mary Puppins. Throw on clothes---full coverage if possible, not that he was Mormon but he preferred not to scare little children with his burnt waffle face---pour his milk before his cereal, brush his teeth, and drive to the Sister Margaret's.

Step 4: Annoy the fuck out of Weas. Serve drinks, make tips, break up fights, yadda yadda yadda.

Step 5: Come home to Puppins and Logie-Bear. Eat a nice dinner (usually pasta or something that could be heated up in their microwave), watch some trash reality TV, and go to sleep next to the love of his life.

Yeah. Step 5 really was the shit.

{Suck it, Marvel Comics writers,} Yellow piped up. {This issue is called Wade Wilson has a Fantastic Day.}

"The fuck is a Marvel?"

[Or maybe, It's a Wonderful Wade?] suggested White.

{Nah. Oooooh, It's a Wade-erful Life is right there!}

"I don't think the guy's life in that movie was all that wonderful," Wade mumbled, brushing sleep from his eyes. "Doesn't Jamie Stewart try to take a long walk off a short bridge about it?"

{So it's perfect!}

[How would we know? We never finished it.]

{...Oh yeah.}

Considering he'd been consistent about his med schedule lately, Chatty Cathy and Bitchy Bethy were being suspiciously loud, but Wade tried to brush it off. Some days were louder than others.

[Story of our life.]

He snorted, glad no one one was around to hear it. At the moment, he was partway through Step 3 in Wade's Super Awesome Great Day Schedule, and the best part was that he didn't even have to do Step 4, because it was his day off. His (read: Logan's) favorite hoodie was on, Puppins was in her playpen out back... All he had to do was pick up a short list of groceries, fill up with gas (ha!), and then he could lay around giggling and kicking his feet until his boyfriend came home.

Impulsively---because when has he done anything after carefully considering it first?---he whipped out his Hello Kitty phone and shot off a quick text to Ness.

✨Fresh Prince✨: boyfriend is such a prtty word. gonna start using it more

Loch Ness 🦕: I'll tell Dermot you think so

Loch Ness 🦕: Stop being gay

✨Fresh Prince✨: oh em gee!?!? i will not tlerate homophia in PRIDE MOnTH. 

✨Fresh Prince✨: but plz do give dermot mulroney a kiss from me xoxo 😘 

Loch Ness 🦕: It's October 

Loch Ness 🦕: ...But I will ;) Same goes for Lo

He was typing out the latest of many pleas for her to turn off her autocaps, knowing full well that his partner's old-ass netiquette was much worse, when speak of the devil:

💖😩 Honey Badger 😩💖 is calling...

He immediately swiped up on the call, hoping he could mask his stupid nerves. Pookie Bear never called before 3:30 in the afternoon.

[There's no Step for this,] White oh-so-helpfully reminded.

"Shhh!" he hissed.

"Wade?" asked the gruff voice on the other end.

"Shit! Sorry, wasn't talkin' to you, Peanut. I'm always down to hear your sexy work voice, just had to get the girls out of the room for a sec."

"...Right. They botherin' you?"

"Awww, I love it when you get all threaten-y! Seriously, very hot stuff, prime material for later on tonight, if you know what I mean---"

"Wade."

"Sorry. Trouble teaching World War Two again, sweetheart? The kids not getting Napoleon Dynamite?"

The drawn-out sigh on the other end made his stomach drop, made even worse by the fact that they had so much distance between them. Wade wished they could be face-to-face. Lo-Lo sounded exhausted.

{Ding ding ding! He's finally getting tired of you!} Yellow whispered.

[Took him long enough.]

{I know, right?! Ness tried to ship you off on a grippy sock vacation like five times. And Logan doesn't even have the luxury of praying for an IED to get rid of you, like it should've done the first time, so he has to leave the old fashioned way. Which do you prefer?}

[Either way, you get burned.]

"...and today she got in this fight," Logan was saying, when Wade's brain re-focused. He really hoped he didn't miss much, but it felt disrespectful to ask the other man to re-start. Good news, though! Wade had lots and lots of practice in jumping into conversations.

"What happened? Was she hurt? Did you get to unleash a can of whoop-ass on some fifteen-year-olds, or did you hold yourself back and watch like a wise old sage?"

A small laugh, really just an amused exhale, came from the other end of the line. Wade's shoulders instantly released tension he didn't even know they were holding. 

"Nahh... I just yelled a bit and they cut it out. They couldn't handle me if I brought out the whoop-ass, bub." The cocky grin in his voice made Wade feel warm. "But I'm just worried about the kid. Not Quentin; between us, Quentin is an asshole and he definitely had it coming for somethin' or other. But this new kid, Laura... she reminds me of me. And I hate sayin' it, 'cause it's corny as shit, but she does. And she looks so familiar. It's killin' me. The guy from the classroom next door, German fuck, even asked if she was mine."

Okay. Be cool, Wade. Make a joke that's definitely just a joke.

"Mm. You sure there aren't any little honey badgers running around out there?"

Great. Smooth. Not insecure at all.

"Ha! God, I hope not. I don't think Puppins could handle sharin' the spotlight. And besides, I'm meeting her parents tonight. That's actually why I called. Principal Munroe is making us all have a get-together about it: Quentin and his parents, Laura and her parents, and some of the teachers who saw it. I'll definitely be home a little late."

Wade imagined a little flower in his chest that wilted at that. Which, he'd be the first to admit, was dramatic as all hell. But sue him, he missed his Peanut.

"No problem!" he said, voice stuffed full of false cheer. It was oozing fake to his own ears, but he sometimes thought (or maybe hoped) that Logan didn't hear it. "I'll still make those stuffed peppers you like, assuming you'll be home for dinner?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Thanks, bub."

"My pleasure," he said, making innuendo drip from his words. He batted his eyelashes, despite knowing his partner couldn't see him. "Anything else you want tonight?" 

"Nope. And my free period's about to end in a minute. See you tonight."

"I'll tell Puppins her papa said hi; she'll be so excited! Mwah!"

"Hnn. You too."

The line clicked. Dead. You too.

{He mwahs us too!}

[He did not say that.]

"He loves us plenty," Wade corrected both, trying to sound more confident than he felt. 

See, Wade loved his partner in crime, and he was l-o-v-e loving this routine they'd set up in the months since they'd moved in together, but he hadn't been built for routine. It didn't matter if you put a wolf in a comfy penthouse apartment with lots of cushions and an automatic doggy-feeder. You could pet it and love it and it could love its new life in return. But it would never be a dog.

{Ooh, wolf metaphors! Are we an alpha male now?}

[Gross. We're barely even male. We're a man in the same way a tomato is a fruit.]

{Y'know, Tumblr would have Opinions on that statement, shutterbug.}

The point was, Wade wasn't domesticated. Not in a weird way, just... he never had domestic anything. His life went from 0-60 the day he was born and it stayed there, from dodging his dad's belt to dodging stray bullets in the desert. Hell, the closest things to 'breaks' he'd gotten in his life were hospital stays: psych ward as a teenager, brain cancer in his twenties when he met Ness, then the motherfucking IED that burnt half his body to a crisp. Wade Wilson didn't do domestic; whatever cruel god controlled the fate of his universe wouldn't let him. 

{It's a Wade-erful Life!} Yellow cheered.

Yeah, right. His life never stayed this quiet for long. It was like that movie with all the greaser kids, Grease 2 or something: Nothing gold can stay.

So, trying his very hardest not to look and feel like the worst kind of creep, he got out his sticker-covered, old-ass laptop and pulled up the school's homepage. Then the high school's directory. And he typed, hoping that whatever he saw wouldn't confirm his worst suspicions:

L A U R A .

Chapter Text

Prosciutto, provolone, tomato, lettuce... a hearty amount of dijon mustard... all on a delicious hoagie bun.

As Logan walked to Ororo's office, all he could think of was that damn sandwich. The fight had happened during his lunch break, meaning he hadn't gotten to eat it then; he'd barely had time to call Wade. His hoagie was still waiting for him in the sad beige fridge across the hall, in the teacher's lounge. The mustard was probably getting the rest of it all soggy.

He was not in the best of moods.

"Hey, O," he greeted, huffing as he approached her desk.

"That's Principal Munroe, Mr. Howlett," she corrected, although there was no real heat behind the words. If he didn't know better, he'd almost think she sounded fond.

"Right. Apologies, your honor."

In the same moment, someone loudly cleared their throat behind him, causing Logan to instinctively whip around. In the doorway stood a broad-shouldered man in a business suit, and in his shadow was a bird-like blonde woman who appeared to be making herself even smaller than her natural stature. Attempting to keep his composure, Logan held out his hand.

"I'm Mr. Howlett," he explained, hating every time he had to call himself that. "I teach 9th and 10th grade American and World History."

"Arthur Quire," the man reciprocated.

Their handshake was long and firm. Inside himself, Logan was pleased, enjoying the vice-like grip.

"Are you accompanied by your wife?" Ororo cut in.

Arthur finally let go, then cleared his throat, as if something distasteful were stuck in it.

"Miranda. Take a seat."

Miranda did so. Trained, he thought, then instantly hated himself for it. He could feel his hackles raising, his very hair standing up. He wished he'd crushed the man's hand.

"Where is our son?" Quire asked, authoritative but falsely casual, leaning back in the chair he had taken as his own. 

"In the nurse's office," answered O. "Do not worry; he is quite alright. In situations like these, we've found it is best to keep both children somewhere separate, under a close eye, until we had a chance to speak to both sets of parents. Alone."

Quire's wife, Miranda, shot him a pleading look.

"And the girl's parents are...?" he asked, curling his lip.

"On their way." Ororo shot back. She was really riding the line between fed-up and diplomatic. She shot a disapproving glance his way as Logan himself leaned against the wall, ready for the show. "They should be here at any moment---"

"I am so sorry we're late!" A redheaded woman in a long scarf rushed through the doorway as if summoned, quickly putting something back into her purse. "I sincerely apologize; we were just finishing up at work. We both teach at Xavier Academy, so 'right after school' isn't the best time, but..." She turned back. "Scott?"

And motherfucker, Logan could tell he was screwed. The problem was, his memory wasn't the best, so he couldn't begin to figure out how screwed. Historical facts, names and dates... those came easy. Loved ones' birthdays, though, or new kids' faces? Summer vacation anecdotes? His brain was a minefield, covered in a thick layer of fog. He knew he knew this woman, and he only had a limited amount of time before she turned to the side and acknowledged his existence, but he couldn't for the life of him recall where they met. When he tried to dig for it, he was met only with a feeling of unease, like one of them shouldn't be there.

Then he saw Scott, adjusting his dumbass glasses as he came in, wearing a pressed Lacoste polo. His mouth was quirked in that way that always betrayed his discomfort. An expensive-looking silver watch gleamed on his wrist. 

"Hi there! So sorry we're late; I'm sure Jean has already explained?"

Jean. God, Jean and Scott. Memories came, then, like a flood: picnics on the library green, rumpled bedsheets, screaming matches, sharing a milkshake, the time Jean knitted them both sweaters for Christmas, the time he got drunk and threw up on Scott's shoes. Fucking hell, how did he ever stop thinking about Jean and Scott?

There was a clear answer there, he knew. He graduated ESU. He grew up, got a real job, quit the drinking that screwed so much with his fragile memories. Found Wade, the mouthy bartender who looked after him when he was at his lowest. Offered the dumbass a place to stay that didn't have the temptation of coke under the floorboards. Him and Wade, they put each other back together. Why would he need memories of Jean and Scott when he had the perfect boyfriend, making dinner in a frilly-ass apron, laughing loudly at Logan's piss-poor attempts at jokes?

But as the couple exchanged introductions with O and the Quires, the last several years melted away. It was Scott---Slim, he used to call him---who turned to greet him first.

"...Logan?"

FUCK. If Wade were here, he'd make up some harebrained story about how this wasn't actually Logan Howlett, it was his cousin. Logan Howlett had died three years ago. Do you see him, too? But Wade wasn't here; it was just Logan and the Ghosts of Threesomes Past over there. Since there were no chairs left, everyone but Ororo and the Quires had to stand. Which meant the three of them.

"Hey, bub." Let him think you don't remember his name. Let him think you barely recall any of it. "ESU, right?"

"...Yeah. Honey, you remember Logan?"

Jean turned, then, looking much more enthusiastic.

"Logan! We missed you."

Startlingly, she surged forward to pull him into a hug, but he stepped back reflexively. She dropped her arms and frowned minutely, but just as quickly, the look was gone and replaced with an apologetic smile. It's good to see you, she mouthed, and Logan didn't know why she didn't just say it out loud. What, was the principal's office bugged? Would Slim be upset? 

Fuck, did he have to tell Wade?

"You already know each other?" Ororo cut in. (Logan had a lot of respect for her. She always knew when to mercy-kill a conversation.) "That's wonderful! You can all catch up after our conversation."

In a few blinks, he shifted himself into teacher mode, putting all thoughts of his complicated past and present in that little carboard box in his noggin labeled Do Not Touch for the time being. As if in sync with him, the energy in the room grew somber. A gust of autumn wind blew in from Ororo's cracked window.

"You all know why you're here, so I won't beat around the bush about it." O folded her hands, which were tastefully adorned with golden jewelry, atop her desk like a power-play. "Your children had an altercation earlier today, on their way to the lunchroom. Mr. Howlett was the only adult witness to the incident, and none of the students agreed to come forward. Mr. Howlett was too far away to make out if any words were exchanged, but he did clearly see that Ms. Summers... threw a punch at Mr. Quire, which connected with the boy's cheekbone, causing a bruise." 

Immediately, Arthur Quire began to rise from his seat, but his silent wife grabbed his forearm and sent him a pleading glance until he settled himself back down, steaming. Logan was more focused on watching Jean and Scott---now Mr. and Mrs. Summers, apparently. He tamped down a bitterness that threatened to rise like bile up from his stomach. Jean had a hand over her mouth, startled, while Scott looked tense but resigned. His lack of shock made the most sense; Logan had been notified, due Laura's mid-semester arrival, that she had been expelled from Xavier's. Knowing now that her parents worked there made the situation much more interesting.

He realized with a start that he had failed to connect Laura's surname to the couple from his wild college days. Had he even known Scott's last name?

"Of course," Ororo continued, "we take any sort of violence here at West Chester very seriously. However, it is important to note that this is Laura's first offense on school grounds, and she claims that Mr. Quire initiated the encounter by employing a homophobic slur."

Logan bristled, but it was doubtful anyone noticed, because the couples' reactions were much more overt.

"What?!" Jean exclaimed, eyes wild.

"Our son would never---"

"Mr. Quire, I suggest you contain yourse---"

"We raised an upstanding---"

"Can everbody be quiet?" Scott said after a moment, standing up. He didn't even speak very loudly but, then again, he'd never needed to.

"Sorry, but the story matches up for us," he continued. "Laura is very open about about her gay identity; therefore, so are we. If she says this boy called her something, I believe her."

At Arthur Quire's red-faced gaping, Slim just held up a hand for silence.

"But. She has acted out before, and we would be remiss to assume Logan did not see what he saw. Jean and I are fully in favor of disciplinary action towards our kid, as long as theirs experiences a consequence as well."

"You will never---"

"That can be arranged," O answered, clipped and final, relegating Mr. Quire to his poor imitation of a fish. "We will examine this matter further internally and decide on a fitting consequence for Mr. Quire, but for the time being, Ms. Summers will be given one week of suspension from school. I expect that her homework for the next week will be completed and turned in, promptly, on the day of her return. I believe we can now gather your children?"

***

It was nearly 5:00 by the time Logan finally pulled his beat-up truck into the driveway, the remainder of the meeting having taken longer than expected. He debated eating his sandwich right there in the driveway, almost shamefully, but Wade had made his favorite. To ruin his appetite before their early dinner would be a disservice to both of them. 

With a heavy sigh that reached down into his bones, Logan pulled his keys out of the ignition, slammed the door shut, and locked up. As usual, he had to walk sideways between the house and his boyfriend's Honda Odyssey, because their driveway was too damn small and Wade always parked too damn close. By the time he put his hand to their bronze doorknob, he was taking a deep breath and counting to ten, reminding himself that he was just hungry and upset and his bald idiot had nothing to do with that.

His last statement appeared questionable when said bald idiot yanked the door open before Logan could, eyes bloodshot and posture tense. Considering he'd probably woken up just before noon, Wade was doing an impressive impression of someone who hadn't been sleeping. A fleeting thought, off his meds?, ran through his mind before he steadied himself. It was a good thing, too, because Wade's words felt like a punch to his gut.

"Spit it out, Pooh Bear. I know about your secret family."

Chapter Text

"Spit it out, Pooh Bear." Wade was hyper-aware of his hands trembling at his sides, but he managed to look down into his boyfriend's eyes. "I know about your secret family."

Struck dumb on their front stoop was Logan, all tense lines and big eyes. Slowly, telegraphing each movement in a way that made Wade feel more than a little patronized, his partner raised both hands.

What, are you under arrest? he wanted to snark, but his throat had gone tight.

"Wade," the shorter man rumbled. "Baby. I promise, whatever you think is going on, I have a full explanation."

"You think I'm crazy?" Wade spat.

[You are,] White pointed out. [I'm in your fucking head.]

{La la la la la la la la--}

"--ade. Wade?" 

"Hmm?"

With effort, Wade managed to pull his attention back to Lo. 

"Hey. You are not crazy. But our neighbors are going to think you are if we keep this conversation going out here. Can I come inside?"

The end of that question, Can I come inside my own house, that I let you live in?, went unsaid. Unfortunately, it was very much heard.

"Fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine..."

Wade turned on his heel and walked back into the kitchen. It was then that he realized he was still in his 'lounging around' clothes: a plain white tank, pink sweats, fuzzy Cookie Monster socks that made him slip a little when he walked.

[You look ridiculous.]

{What else is new?}

[You should hit something. You're angry; you should hit something.]

That's what snapped him out of his funk. The hitting shit wasn't him; that was his dad's thing. Not Wade, not with Logan, not in Logan's fucking house. He liked Logan. He was in lesbians with Logan. 

Wade's brain swam around and around like a little fish in a tank. Like a brain-fish. His brain needed a sedative. The sedatives were down the hall, so he sat down at the table instead, going half-boneless in the wooden chair and sinking his head down into his scarred hands.

"Oh, honey badger," he groaned, a bit muffled. "Please tell me I'm wrong."

He listened without looking up as the front door carefully shut, the click of their deadbolt sliding into place. Logan's footsteps as he padded back to Wade were so achingly familiar: heavy, yet soft.

"Wade. I know you're tired, bub. I know you're scared. I promise you, I am all of those things and more right now. I don't know how the hell you worked yourself into the idea that I have some other family in the last couple hours--although I think I have some ideas--but I did find out something about the kid. Now I need you to look at me so I can tell you and know you understand."

Wade lifted his head back up with difficulty. He knew his eyes were probably red and gross-looking. Fuck everything.

"Oh, bub." 

"Stop. Don't use your sad voice. I know what's going on and I'm trying to be mad at you. These are angry eyes."

His boyfriend ran a hairy hand over his own face, looking like he was biting his tongue. "Okay. Okay, alright. I'll bite. What do you think you know?"

Bingo. Showtime. Go-go power rangers. Wade straightened up a bit in his chair.

"Well, I did some digging, Peanut. The kid is Laura Summers, right?"

To his pleasure, Logan looked surprised. Ha!

"So, I'm right! Damn, I am good. It wasn't too hard, 'cause she looks just like you. Her daddy--and that's when this actually gets interesting--is Scott Summers, who teaches at the fancy-shmancy Xavier Academy she got kicked out of."

"How do you---?"

"Sources. Eyes everywhere, eyes on the streets, eyes in the back of my head, all that jazz." (Weas may have helped, shady bastard, but Logan didn't have to know that.) "Anyways, Scott Summers got his degree from one Empire State University. Sound familiar? I'd hope so, because you definitely spent a shiiiiit-ton of money to go there, honey badger."

"Okay. You're not wrong, but I'm getting a little concerned, Wade--"

"Nope; no cuts, no buts, no coconuts, kitten. It's daddy's turn to talk. Now, I couldn't find anything online about you and Scotty, which makes sense, since he never came up in conversation, right?! But he was close with one Jean Summers, then Jean Grey, who was co-captain of ESU's Model UN with his twink ass. And now they're married with a kid, but that kid looks nothing like her daddy. So, here's what I'm thinking--"

This was his big move. Wade stood up and started pacing the dining room floor.

"You and Scott linked up for a while in your college days, but he left you when you got too into day-drinking, so you took revenge by getting with his girl-crush, Jean. You don't think much of it, but then she realizes pregnant, and to hide that you're the kid's dad, she gets with Scott--even though she's way out of his league--because she knows he'll stay. And then when you're financially stable and sober, sometime after you ask me to room with you, you tell them to move to bumfuck nowhere and get a job out here so you can be close enough to go visit Scotty and the not-such-a-baby-anymore. According to Xavier Academy's records, the timeline matches up. They moved into our area two months after I moved in with you and we started our whole Beautiful Boy journey. So now, whenever you're 'staying late,' you're actually driving down south to play secret family."

"So..." He stepped up and leaned in close to search his boyfriend's face, which was blank with shock. "Am I right, or am I right?"

"Jesus, bub," Logan growled.

"Nope!" Wade replied, faux-cheerfully, popping the p. "Just little ol' me!"

"Wade. Wade. Sit down, please. It's not that simple."

"Oh, I think I'll stay right where I am. It's not that simple? In what way? You don't have a secret kid, or you don't want to admit it?"

"I don't know," he snapped, and Wade flinched back on instinct. "Shit. Sorry. But I don't know anything for sure. I just found out about it today, okay? And it's a lot to process."

After only a moment's hesitation, Wade sat down on their sofa, really leaning back into it. He made a go-on gesture with one hand, unusually willing to shut up and listen. Even White and Yellow were quiet, although he doubted that would last.

"Okay," Logan continued, taking a seat himself at their scuffed-up old table. "I guess the first part is almost right. We did meet at ESU, but it wasn't how you think..."