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Autumn happens suddenly. One minute it’s swelteringly hot and Wade’s doing multiple snack runs a day just to dangle himself into the massive chest freezers at the local supermarket; the next, the last of the summer storms roll in, and when the sun shines afterwards every bit of vegetation is bursting back into colour.
Not that there is much vegetation in the city, but Wade’s landed in his own little oasis of it in-between the cement and billboards and high-rise buildings. Since transcending comic-pages to star in his own film franchise, he has somehow, despite still being supposedly dirt poor, ended up not living in a run down hovel with only one working light bulb and a hideously high rate of petty crime and stabbings in the local area, but on a street that has actual trees.
That’s movie-logic, folks. Bit like the apartments in Friends – there’s no way those guys could afford that much square-footage! Rachel spent more money than she earned, and Joey bounced between low-key jobs and couch-slouching quicker than the Energiser Bunny!
Just like the Central Perk gang, Wade’s pay-checks do not match his astronomical rental bills, and yet every morning he wakes up in Apartment 17 and it’s not a dream. The set-designers did him good!
Anyway, on this homely-and-surprisingly-cheap street lined with trees, there is greenery galore. There’s a little old lady who has flower tubs on her balcony railings, which she meticulously waters with a cracked I <3 Cats mug. In the apartments opposite, there’s a teenager with an unhealthy obsession with succulents, whose windowsill is lined with amusing shaped cacti that Wade often chortles at. Also there’s Barry, who tends to what are probably weeds growing up the steps by his front door. One of the roof top terraces has a whole jungle going on, and even a couple of bee hives. And down the street, there is a park.
It’s not central park big, and there is no cutesy coffee shop to be a hub of relationship drama - just a little pop up van that charges New York rates - but it is big enough for Wade to get lost in if he’s engrossed in his phone and Logan isn’t there to tug his sleeve and redirect him back onto the path. In the six years he and Al have lived in the area, Wade’s never really visited it much. But now he has a dog…
Mary Puppins loves the park! It’s where she’s made all her little doggy friends, and there’s a lake which she paddled about in during the summer heatwaves, and so, so many disgusting things to sniff and roll in. Like half eaten kebabs left by distracted druggies, or fox shit. A gang of surprisingly smart pigeons loiters at the gates, and descend on unsuspecting snackers as they walk the trails. Mary thrills in attempting to chase them, and the ducks from the lake. And the countless squirrels, but their superior climbing skills have kept them safe so far.
The trees are Wade’s favourite bit about the park, especially now. The whole place has come alive with differing colours – greens turning to yellow and red, and every shade between; giant swatches and hues that paint the horizon bright against the grey and brown of the city looming beyond.
“Which is ironic really, because all this seasonal fanfare is actually a last hurrah before our Ent-ish friends cark it and die.” Wade says as he walks, gaze skyward to watch the leaves waft in the breeze. A few dislodge, tired from a harsh summer, and twirl and flutter as they fall to the ground. “Temporarily, anyway. It’s more like a deep sleep.” He carries on, kicking through a cluster of them already laid at the side of the path. It makes a cool, crispy noise. “The leaves shut down their chlorophyll making in prep for the tree shedding them. That’s what keeps them green, so without it they die in glorious colour. Then they go dormant for the winter, and wake back up in spring fresh and revitalised and ready to go again!”
“Circle of life.” Logan says where he’s ambling besides Wade, Mary’s lead swinging loosely from his hand. Autumnal days always start fresh, so underneath his normal leather jacket he’s wearing another layer - one of Wade’s plain sweaters, cable-knit and soft, and fashionably baggy, with thumb holes in the long sleeves. He looks like he’s stepped out of X-men Origins otherwise, just a bit more weathered; sporting grey hair more like Days of Future Past, and with more frown lines about his eyes. But also more laugh lines, which makes Wade feel just as warm and fuzzy as his jumper.
Despite the chill, Mary is a creature of habit who needs her early morning walkies, and would loudly protest (a.k.a scream like a banshee) if her papas did not take her on them. She does not care if it’s only 4°C out. But that’s probably because she never really experiences any sort of temperature affected suffering on accounts of Wade treating her like a Princess, and supplying her with endless weather-combating outfits. Today, she is wrapped up in black fluff-lined booties and a puffer jacket with a hood (red, of course), which covers her brow and often falls into her googly eyes.
“And it moves us aaaall.” Wade sings, before looking over his shoulder at Logan, hoping to spot the quirk of his lips that means he’s trying not to smile. The other man is busy watching Mary wander off the path, nose to the ground, either on some sort of trail or just rubbing her whiskers in the dew.
“Maybe we should do that, too.” Wade carries on, side stepping to nudge Logan off his next stride and get back his attention. “Turn off for the winter. Hibernate. Or Cryofreeze!” He rounds on Logan excitedly, and the other man pulls up short to look at him, eyebrow not quite yet raised, but it’ll happen any second, Wade just knows. “All the cool Superheroes do it! It’s almost a rite of passage.” He pauses, and ponders: “If the heating breaks again this year, we might not even have to invest in a futuristic human freezer-pod! Though, I imagine they’re harsh on the electric bill…!” Distracted, Wade puffs out a breath, which turns to vapour and rises up towards the striking blue sky.
He’s bundled up in his own puffer jacket and a ball-cap, because although he runs warm, the fresh air against his bare skin isn’t pleasant. Nor are the stares. It is easier to dress up and hide himself as the weather get cooler, he supposes. He doesn’t mind short shorts and crop tops in the comfort of his own home, but 35°C heatwaves in the city make going outside...socially unpleasant. His wrinkled, mole-rat appearance isn’t all bad, though; at Halloween, he can just paint his face green and call himself Frankenstein and no-one even blinks! It fucking sucks, actually…!
Logan is looking at him, expression pinching as if he somehow knows exactly what Wade is thinking – some sort of heightened Wolverine sense, like he can smell Wade’s unease. Wade blinks, and shakes himself out of this descriptive tangent.
“We should get a load of blankets.” He rattles on. “Hole up on the couch and sleep until April. Oh! We could make a pillow fort! I am good at pillow forts, and you’ve worked a bit of construction now! We could hang fairy lights, snuggle in our onesies. Door Dash everything we need. Or send Al out to hunter gather. Might be a bit of pot luck what she brings back, mind. There’s not a lot of brail on shop labels, after all. What say you?”
“You don’t like winter?” Logan asks, tilting his head to watch him. Wade shrugs, noncommittally. Mary, still sniffling in the damp grass besides them, gets a stalk caught up her nose and sneezes. “Thought you were all over that seasonal shit.” Logan fills the quiet, voice lighter with tease. It’s not like the apartment currently isn’t pumpkin orange and purple and black, with spider webs and skeletons and bats dangling everywhere. There’s a cauldron on the coffee table that keeps filling itself up with sweets as if by literal magic, and the TVs been set to The Horror Channel for the past week.
“Well, yeah!” Wade flails, wind back in his sails. “I’ve got enough Christmas jumpers to fill the month without having to double dip! And there’s nothing better than the sight of a fir tree, artfully decorated with baubles. But you know, funny ones, riské ones – like ones that look like actual balls, or Sexy Santa Clauses. Clausi? Technically, there’s only one...” He shrugs, then carries on: “The jingle of bells really does do wonders for the soul, and let’s not forget all the stuffing! For the turkey…!” He grins, aiming for lewd.
“Right.” Logan mutters lowly, holding Wade’s gaze levelly until Wade’s grin falters, caught in the act of exaggeration - Logan knows his bits by now, sees right through them, and doesn’t encourage them when he knows there’s some deeper meaning behind them. He's annoyingly intuitive, actually. Wade hates it a little bit, because it makes him think, and sometimes that's awful. Biting his lip, Wade stops the joke short, and gets back on track:
“It’s just, dark all the time.” He admits, and glances away, feeling a little bit vulnerable with the admission. Dark, and depressing, and he’d been told he was going to die at Christmastime, what, 9 years ago? That’s left a little bit of niggling PTSD attached to the festive season. “And grey. And wet.” He carries on, with a little more bite. Wade hates getting wet. Bad things happen when it rains – like Vanessa getting killed - and lacking eyebrows and eyelashes makes his life extra difficult. He can’t see for shit, in the rain.
“Could take a trip up north.” Logan suggests, remembering the dark months he’d spent living wild in the mountains - hiding from everyone, especially himself. It’d been cold, but a crisp cold; easy to wrap up against, with no damp to make his bones ache. Clear air, and views for miles. Endless forests and sunsets that lit the world on fire across the snowy peaks. Peace and quiet. Life affirming stuff. “Cryofreeze has nothing on winters in the Rockies.”
“Yeah yeah, Whitefang.” Wade rallies, shaking off the Bad Thoughts. “I like my home comforts, okay. And being able to feel my toes. And my face. I don’t have luxurious body hair to keep me warm.”
His attention is stolen by Mary then as she huffs out a bark, and looks up abruptly. Her eyes suddenly bulge, her whole tiny body going primed. Then she kicks up dirt and leaves with her back legs, and starts zooming around the place.
“Oh, there she goes!” Wade chirps, swinging to watch as the dog runs laps around them, darting in-between tree trunks and shrubbery - and even their legs, making Logan grumble at her. “Run like the wind!”
Two circuits in, and Mary, panting, skids on the wet ground and trips over a stray stick. She somersaults, scrambles back to her feet with a yip, hood fallen over her eyes, then changes direction and takes off into the distance. Wade looks back to Logan, grinning, and feels his heart lift when the other man turns his fond gaze from the dog and to Wade.
“I love autumn though.” Wade says. “The ‘mart always gets candy apples in, and dressing up for Halloween is even more fun than dressing up to go Deadpooling! And look!” He skips a few steps off the path, and looks up at the tree canopy, all shades of yellow and orange and red, the last shine of green clinging on to the edges. Above, the morning sky is pale blue, with only a few wisps of white clouds peacefully drifting. A flock of geese honk as they glide above them, v formation as they head south for warmer climes.
“It’s all so pretty!” Wade breaths, getting distracted in the gloriousness of it all. But then his face falls a little, as he watches the geese disappear behind an acer, gone until spring again. Heck, maybe they should all go on holiday to Mexico, too? “But it’s also so depressing, because in a month it’ll all be gone. Rotting on the ground. Just brown, and wet, and smelly.” He sighs, melancholy, and rolls his head to look at Logan again. “Just feels like the end of a book, ya know? Like you can feel the pages thinning as the end rushes for you.”
Logan is watching him. The light is all morning soft, and his eyes glow warmly with it. He’s loose in his stance and relaxed, and he’d got the apartment keys in his pocket because Wade has proven time and time again he can’t be trusted not to misplace them, and he’s wearing Wade’s clothes, and yeah, now his lips are curved in the smile that makes Wade’s heart flutter. Not the little quirk that means amusement because Yes, Wade, you made a funny. No, this is the quiet one, the meaningful one. The one Wade wont ever get over and never wants to, even though he’s still often confused by why Logan wears it.
“You’re a liar.” Logan says, breaking the spell even though he’s still smiling, and Wade shakes himself out of the fuzzy edged Movie Scene Moment.
“What?” Wade splutters, then - actually hearing what Logan had said - quickly protests: “Hey now! It’s done tactically! I only employ Little White Lies when needed for plot development. Or to try and avoid grievous bodily harm. Anyway, if this is you hanging onto that whole Educated Wish shtick, it’s been a year, peanut, jeez, come on…!”
“And in that year I haven’t seen you read one single book.” Logan answers, not being distracted by, at this point, Wade’s familiar excessive spiel.
“I read People magazine! And manga! Sure, they may be picture heavy and pretty gossipy, but they’re printed on paper and bound. Like books!” Wade splutters. “And audiobooks are a thing now, ya know. I can even listen to them while I work. It’s called ~Multitasking~”
“Not like having a proper book in your hand though, is it?” Logan says, and Wade’s suddenly remembering all the time’s he’s walked back into the apartment and found Logan laid out on the sofa, devastatingly handsome and so very homely, with book in hand and glasses perched on the end of his nose:
After a Take Away run, because they couldn’t be bothered to go food shopping this week, Wade laden down with enough Thai to feed a small army.
Or post mission, a little bit blood covered and aching, and so glad to see a slightly-grumpy-but-mostly-friendly face.
Or late at night after being persuaded by Peter to have just one more Porn Star Martini, or maybe five, it’s my birthdaaay, Waaaaaaddeeeee–
Logan’s never been spooked by Wade throwing open the front door, because his keen ears had probably been listening out for the cadence of his footfalls from approximately a quarter mile down the street. So he’d just leisurely finish his paragraph, then tuck the My Little Pony book mark Wade had gifted him in-between the pages, and look up, and maybe smile, and say:
“Smells good, bub.”
Or, his face twisting in mild-disgust: “Fuck, did you end up in the sewers again?”
Or, sleepily, eyes heavy lidded after not actually reading a word for the passed half-hour because it was 2am and he’s tired, and just waiting for Wade to come back to curl up around him and sleep:
“Hey, Red. ‘ave a good night?”
“Yeah!” Wade had replied, maybe a little too enthusiastically with maybe being a little residual-drunk, and definitely breathless from running up the stairs two at a time in his excitement to see Logan. He’d been high on happiness after having a good night with his friend, and even higher after finding his partner waiting up for him, all soft and cosy under Wade’s favourite Hello Kitty printed blanket. The (actual mother-fucking, made of knives and fury, best in the multi-verse!) Wolverine, the perfect picture of domestic fluff with a ratty little dog on his lap and his voice all soft just for Wade.
Fucking hell, maybe this is all a dream after all!
Logan knows what coming to the end of a book feels like. Reading seems to be his favourite pass time when left to his own devices and not being dragged into Wade’s shenanigans. He’s read a lot of books since being in this universe - non-fiction to learn the history and sociology of this world, to compare it to the one he left behind; fiction to entertain himself, with Wade tucked against him on the couch playing Animal Crossing and humming under his breath.
“Huh.” Wade says now, stood under the bright blue sky and autumn canopy in his favourite park as Logan walks onto the grass towards him, scuffing though a patch of fallen leaves.
“’s all more special because it has an end.” He says, sagely. “But it’ll come back. Next year, it’ll happen all over again.”
“A annual sequel.” Wade says, brightly.
Logan huffs of a laugh. “Yeah.”
They are spared further melancholy by Mary reappearing, running full tilt at them. She’s a streak of red puffer jacket and a whizzing pink tail. In a flash, she ricochets off of Wade’s shin, and then takes off into the woods again with a yarp! Wade stumbles, his knee almost popping out of place – the little fuckers a Deadpool, okay, she’s strong, and she’s got some heft to her - before he glances down at the smudge of paw-print shaped dirt now on his sweatpants. He splutters indignantly.
“Oi, you little Hellion! That was an uncalled for hit and run!” He shouts after her. “I only washed these yesterday!”
“Try last month, bub.” Logan mutters, but Wade’s already taking off after the dog, waving his hand like he was holding a police baton and shouting some made up rights. Logan doesn’t roll his eyes as they dart ahead through the trees and out of sight, but he does let out a little huff of breath, despairing all over again just what he’s gotten himself into - but not regretting it for a second.
At the beginning - post Time Ripper, flung into a whole new universe - Logan had taken a while to...settle. He’d had a lot going on in his head; a lot of complicated thoughts to unravel, and bad habits to break out of. A lot of new things to adjust to, one of which was Wade, who didn’t seem to have any spacial boundaries, or an off switch. Which was sometimes an honest to god good distraction, but other times...it got suffocating. And the only way to get the merc to give Logan some peace then was to make him.
They bickered, and they threw punches, and insults, and crockery. And on really bad days (when Al threw them out for giving her a headache and ruining her mug collection), they made their way to a deserted warehouse a mile across town, and really went for it.
The canon typical violence, as Wade deemed it, giggling with Logan’s claws buried in his guts and having a wail of a time, did something to help Logan unravel. Eased him in a way he hadn’t felt for years; his guard lowered, his shoulders relaxed. This was different to The Odyssey; this wasn’t so much an enraged reaction and want to kill - it felt more like a game than a fight. Just scratching an itch, rather than digging in deep enough to scar (not that they could!). Just a play-fight against a guy you couldn’t really hurt.
Several hours in, and they’d staggered away from each other, panting, sweating. Grinning. Wade had popped his shoulder back into place, and then his recently healed stomach had gurgled. He’d looked at Logan, head cocked, and asked simply:
“Food time?”
And Logan didn’t feel so pent up, any more. His stomach wasn’t full of hatred and self-loathing and confusion – it was empty enough to need filling. “...yeah. Guess so.”
But rather than take away (again, because Wade survived almost entirely on grease and spice and hideous amounts of Brown Food), they popped into the supermarket on the way home, shuffling through the self check-out till quickly on account of all the blood splatter and dirt.
Logan had repaid ruining Wade’s apparently favourite hoodie by cooking dinner that night, and then, when Althea gave endless compliments of how delicious the steak was, had started meal planning a little more regularly. He’d made a simple stew, and a hearty curry with rice, actual ramen which didn't come out of a cup. A couple of weeks later, he ventured into baking - a sponge cake Althea spoke of making many years ago, and cookies to use up some out of date chocolate chips he found at the back of the cupboards when cleaning the kitchen one day.
Every offering was met with glorious adoration and frequent compliments from Al, who’d made to pat Logan on the shoulder and ended up getting a handful of Wolvertit instead.
“Oh, you’re taller than I think you are. Sorry, sugar.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Wade had got a little snippy about it all, to be honest (when he tries to grab Logan’s tits, he at least gets growled at!).
At first, the way Althea had easily adopted Logan into their midst was endearing, but now all this doling out of compliments and good will was turning into a sickening show of favouritism! Wade didn’t get that. Wade got caned on the ankles for being in the way, and cursed for putting too much salt in literally anything he tried to cook, even when he hadn’t added any! Wade got niggling insults rather than compliments, Wade got back handed banter, rather than heartfelt thank you, dears. It made him sick.
So sue him, he was a little was jealous at how much Althea was now doting on Logan.
“Don’t worry, bub. I aint gonna steal yer girl.” Logan had teased, when Wade brought it up, pouting a little after being shooed away from Al for getting under her feet – literally, he’d offered to give her a foot rub, how much nicer could he try and be?! But no, ‘Fuck off, Wade’, was what he’d been told, and he’d left the old lady to soak to death in the bath, and gone to dejectedly slouch on the sofa and stare at whatever war film Logan was watching.
“Ha! You’re funny!” Wade had barked out a not-laugh, but he’d been wringing his hands in his Second Favourite hoodie pocket, and several weeks in and Logan was beginning to get a handle on his mannerism enough to know that tell. “Old bat only likes you cos she hasn’t figured out how much of a mess you are yet.” He’d added, a little nastily, because apparently Althea’s latest chiding had actually wound him up.
And Logan couldn’t deny it – Al knew him only as a gentleman, because Logan was trying really hard to stay that way for her - but he could still be angry at Wade’s reaction. And just because Logan saw the other man’s unease, didn’t mean he was nice enough to shy away from it.
“Don’t be childish.” He’d said, spitefully.
“What, or you’ll send me to bed without supper? I can cook, you know. We managed just fine before you got here.” He said, scathingly.
Fuck, did they need to go wreck another warehouse already?! Maybe this wasn’t going to work at all? Logan, living with them. Sharing their space and their electric bill and their food - because Logan didn't technically exist in this universe; he had no money to offer them, just his manual labour and life-skills. He's a liability, really - especially since even using his skills was backfiring! Somehow, he was ruining their friendship. And it seemed unavoidable; this place was too cramped, they were always on top of one another. Stepping on each others toes literally and metaphorically.
It was no more apparent than when they slept, because Althea obviously deserved the single bedroom in this one bedroom apartment, and that left Wade on the sofa bed and Logan on a too-thin blow up mattress on the floor.
He’d slept in worse places, obviously. Still didn’t help his back much.
What also didn't help was going to bed riled-up after bickering with Wade, and spending a tense evening purposefully not talking a word to each other afterwards. Logan’s brain spiraled downward, familiar self-loathing and worry going deeper. It latched onto the ever-present anger in him, turned all the feeling primal, and soon the despairing ache gave way to the greater anguish of his self-conscious, and then he was walking the dark and quiet, still halls of his nightmares, looking for the bodies of the friends he betrayed.
When Logan woke from his nightmare with an startled shout, Wade was a surprise. Normally Logan woke up alone. Normally Logan made sure he woke up alone.
But there Wade was, a pair of wide white eyes in the dark, just distant enough to be out of harms way, but close enough to offer comfort. His voice was low, and he spoke calming reassurances over the rush of blood in Logan’s ears.
"Heeeey, peanut. Nasty one, eh?"
Because that's the thing about Wade – he may be abrasive and wind Logan up, but at his core he’s a good person. Forgave easily, if he thought he should.
That night, they set aside their pettiness. Apologised, and then - because it was dark, and Logan would see Wade better than Wade could see him, but the quiet stillness of the hour made them braver anyway; brave enough to be vulnerable - they’d swapped war stories. Talked about all the bad they’d seen in the world. Confessed to fears and weakness they’d yet to reveal to the other. Not to one upon one another, but to sympathise.
That level of vulnerability did seem to open up something between them that before had been guarded by snark and ego. Logan felt less like biting; his pent up anger bubbling away in the face of Wade’s overbearing obtrusiveness, able to shrug it off more easily. And in return, Wade was a bit gentler with him. Didn’t low blow, or aim to wind Logan up quite so much. He was still an absolute pain in the arse, who couldn't tidy up after himself, or eat properly, or go thirty seconds without making a godawful joke, but…
But that had been the turning point. The start of them growing closer. Closer than Logan’s allowed anyone else in years. The first step in Logan shaking off his past, and making his way forward into this future.
And because of that, he's currently on what has become his normal morning walk, enjoying the cool drag of fresh air in his lungs (the scent of Wade drifting from his stolen sweater), and listening to Wade’s colourful insults breaking the quiet as he chases after Mary, and she barks at him in reply.
“Hey, don’t gnaw on my laces, you little rat!” There's a muffled, low snarl, then a yip and the sound of four running paws, and Wade thundering after them. “When I get my hands on you…!”
Logan’s life has changed a lot, in the last year. It’s almost unrecognisable. He’s gone from aimlessly crawling (often literally) from bar to bar, with no rhyme or direction to his days or nights other than the repeated draining of his whisky glass, to having a reason to get up in the morning, a somewhat stable routine including a cleaning rota and a part time job, and a person to fall into bed with come nighttime. Or in-between, when Al is at a friends...
Once it was clear Logan was an awful person, deep down, but Wade didn’t seem to mind, the relationship between them had changed too. In fact, the relief of revealing his past almost seemed to spur Logan on. Whereas before, Wade’s not-so-subtle flirtations, and the way he encroached on Logan’s space was tolerated, it then became welcomed. Almost wanted.
Logan had trailed after Wade for nothing better to do – just like he’d trailed after him in The Void, because who else did he have to follow? - but post Nightmare of The Wolverine™ Wade Wilson, they found themselves even more joined at the hip: Push-pulling the trolley while grocery shopping; looming over dealers while making cocaine runs for Al; visiting Laura at the Mansion and walking Mary multiple times a day. Getting coffee together; visiting the farmers market and clothes shopping and gathering Halloween decorations together. The occasional Stab and Grab mission; Shawarma again, sat with their thighs pressed together and sharing each others wraps.
And then there was that time in that posh restaurant Vanessa had given them a gift card for, reservation already set up, table for two. It was a place not quite posh enough for formal wear, but Ness had advised at least Smart Cas, so Wade had put on a plain jacket and leather boat shoes, and Logan a nice shirt and dark jeans.
There had been a candle flickering on the table. And expensive wine glasses holding perfectly folded napkins. Three knives and forks, organised in their pretentious rows. And the lighting was all low, and midway through their main course and a retelling of a fun little tale about a gang war he’d helped encourage to get some intel, just to break it all up with some light murdering, Wade had blinked and blurted:
“Hey, do you think this is a date?”
And Logan had looked up at him slowly from his almost-still-alive steak, the words sinking in. He hadn’t replied.
“I mean.” Wade had rushed on, suddenly super self-conscious and too hot in his jacket. “Do you think Vanessa...thinks this should be a date? She said the booking was meant to be for her and Derwosit, who she is dating, but they couldn’t make it cos of some work shit. I didn’t realise it was going to be quite so...like this.”
“You want it to be?” Logan had said, levelly. His fist had been tightly clenched on top of the silk table cloth.
“Huh?”
“A date?”
No outright denial, nor a spluttered protest. Not a disgusted growl: why would I want to date you, freak?
Did...Wade actually have a chance?
“...yeah. Yeah. If you do…?”
They’d stayed for pudding, Wade with an ankle hooked around Logan’s under the table.
Another step moving forward – a first date which led to a multitude of other firsts. Like holding hands while they waited for the bus home, tucked close in the bus shelter because they could. Like Wade leaning against Logan’s shoulder as he looked out the window, and people watched and spotted road names, and he’d do that normally, but now it all felt like it meant more, somehow.
“What do you think, peanut?”
Logan thought he was the luckiest man in the universe, with how his life had seemed to completely flip upside-down, and how it still seemed to be spinning in a good direction.
Their relationship had progressed actually pretty slowly. Sweetly. Because Wade was a handsy fucker when it didn’t mean anything, but now it did he overthought every brush of fingers or causal lean on a scale akin to scientific experimentation – precise, meaningful...worried of explosive recuperation. Of Logan taking it back.
Logan was slightly less tentative about it, more decided - just as relieved by Wade’s agreement, though Wade could never seem understand that, because The Wolverine was in another league to Deadpool, despite Logan insisting actually, bub, I'm just Logan, and you're just Wade. He enjoyed when Wade sprawled across him on the sofa now, because he had the option of gathering him up closer, or digging his fingers into calf muscle when Wade laid his feet in Logan’s lap.
And the opposite was true, too. After so many years of staying away from people, the press of Wade’s shoulder had been enough to settle Logan’s gut, before, but now he could do more – tucking himself under Wade’s arm did more than just offer comfort, it made him feel protected and safe. He could be small with Wade, didn’t have to be the Big Protector, the Hero. It was easy then to doze with his head on Wade’s shoulder, lulled by the other man’s fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
Their first kiss had happened something like that. Sleepy and content, after both having drifted off during an extended-cut Lord of the Rings marathon Wade insisted they could accomplish in a day.
A rising note in the credit music had caught in Logan’s ears and made him flinch awake. He’d blinked open his eyes, and shifted, and that in turn had made Wade rouse too, on accounts of him being plastered to Logan’s side and drooling slightly onto the crown of his head.
“Urgh.” He’d groaned, rubbing his cheek into Logan’s hair and humming to himself, before rocking away just slightly to catch Logan’s gaze. “’Morning, peanut.”
It was dark out, more nighttime than morning, but the silly Adventure Time clock on the wall proclaimed it 4:12 am, so Wade wasn’t wrong. Logan was too tired for words, though, so he just looked back up at Wade, and blinked, and Wade blinked back, and then the corners of his mouth were quirking, and his eyes were shining with more than just TV glare, and suddenly gravity and sleepiness and adoration was pulling him down towards Logan. There was a moment of confusion - followed by a thrill that burst up from Logan’s gut when he realised suddenly what was about to happen - and it spurred him to tilt his chin and meet Wade half way.
Their first kiss, at 4am on a random Thursday after watching The Return of the King. For all their drama, it sorta fit that it was so simple.
Wade doesn’t do simple often. He does extravagant, and wordy, and if he can add flare, he will. Logan finds it sorta fun.
Like now, stood in the park, shaking off the warm fuzzy feeling of a memory several months old, Logan hears Wade loudly and eloquently proclaim: “Gah!” followed by a suspicious crack!, and then the sound of rustling leaves, and a long, drawn out groan.
Logan does roll his eyes, this time.
“What yer done, Red?” He calls, as he ambles through the trees and finds the pair.
Mary is absolutely grinning. She’s submerged up to her neck in a mound of crispy red and yellow leaves that the groundsman must have raked up next the trunk of a great oak tree. The little dog is wading through the detritus like she is swimming, tongue lolling and occasional getting stuck with a leaf, which she then splutters off.
Wade is laid flat out next to her, nearly as equally as submerged, covered from the chest down in leaves. His arms are akimbo on his bed of forest confetti, and he’s looking up at the sky with a contemplative grimace on his face.
“Bub?” Logan asks again, walking up to the mound of autumnal chaos, and looking down at the other man.
“Don’t mind me, just waiting for my leg to unbreak itself.” Wade mutters, not looking at him. Logan frowns.
“What?!”
“Yeah, so there’s lots of tree roots hidden under here, it turns out.” Wade babbles, then waves his hand absently. “In the woods, besides this tree. Funny coincidence.” Mary swims up to butt herself under his raised arm, still positively beaming at this cool new adventure of hers. Wade idly pets her forehead, maybe a little more forcibly than necessary, pulling back her brows to make her eyes go wide. “Caught my foot in one trying to catch this little burrowing munchkin. Went down like an AT-AT. Or Ant Man, whichever reference floats your boat.”
“Timbre.” Logan says, levelly, and Wade blurts out a laugh, and rolls his head on his leafy-pillow to look at him. His grimace fades a little as his leg, buried beneath the mess of leaves, knits itself back together. That, and Logan’s deadpan sense of humour will never not make him light up on the inside with happy sappy fondness.
“You better move, you better dance...” He sings under his breath, and wriggles about in the leaves, throwing out both his arms. Mary yips at him and bounds out of the way, bursting from the leaves like a dolphin in the surf, then sitting herself on the grass to watch as Wade waves his arms, then his legs as well, like he was making a snow angel. Problem being, the leaves just sort of fluff around him, and the motion has Mary hyper-fixating back on his colourful laces, and pouncing on them.
“Ow, you little fuck, that’s the one you just made me snap!" Wade curses, stopping his pseudo-dancing. "You are on one today! What did your daddy feed you this morning, sweet little pup? Aunty Al’s special sugar?!”
“She’s just feeling good.” Logan watches in amusement as Wade sits up, leaves falling from his shoulders, and continues shaking his leg where Mary has her little mouth now firmly wrapped around the toe of his Converse. “Change of the season sometimes sends animals a little...wild.”
“What makes you say that, pookiebear?” Wade swipes at Mary – 'Good thing you don’t have any teeth in there, princess!' - until she is so wound up she’s like a spring loaded kid’s toy, and she needs to dash away like she’s just been let loose. Wade grins after her, then angles his head up towards Logan again, smile turning sly. “Do I have to start watching out for you sheding, and howling of a nighttime? Make sure you’re all locked up on the next full moon?”
“Don’t know what you're on about.”
“Hugh thought Wolverines were wolves, you see. I’m just making a logical assumption.”
“I aint an animal, bub. Wolf or otherwise.”
“Shame.” Wade says, putting on a pout. But only for show, because: “You didn’t say anything about me not being allowed to tie you up, though…”
“Wade…” Logan says, warningly, and the other man rocks back on his hands, and grins innocently back. After a moment though, his face falls into a grimace.
“FYI,” He starts, in a tone Logan knows promises nothing good. “This all looks picturesque and autumnal, but the damp has totally soaked through my pants, and I think a spider is trying to climb up my shirt.”
Logan huffs out a half-amused-half-despairing breath. “Come on then, get up. Gotta go get Al coffee on the way home.”
“Oh yes, we can’t disappoint our Queen. You’ll lose your Prince Charming status!” Wade chirps, throwing leaves up into the air, for The Drama.
“Ha.” Logan lies, and holds out his hand towards where Wade, despite his apparent discomfort, is still sprawled out on the ground. Like he was waiting for Logan to offer. Wade’s reaching for it with a grin a moment after, and as Logan hefts him up despite the smudges of dirt on his palm, purposely overbalances so he can fall against Logan’s chest. He leans in close, still grinning, and is rewarded by the corners of Logan’s mouth quirking in his telltale I’m Trying Not to Smile smile.
“You’ll always be my Prince Charming.” Wade says, low and honest, and maybe still a bit of a joke – because it’s Wade, and it’s been ten whole second since his last Funny. Logan rolls his eyes.
“That make you Cinderella, or something?”
“And I shall go to the ball!” Wade cheers, rocking back and using Logan’s hand and his grip on his shoulder to keep him from falling over. Logan just rocks with the motion, grabbing Wade around his waist as a precaution. “And by ball, I mean Carrie’s. I fancy a hot chocolate with marshmallows and cream, and one of their ginger bat biscuits! As a consolation prize for breaking my fibula.”
“You okay to walk on it?” Logan asks, voice a little worry-tinged despite knowing damn well that Wade is capable of far more, and Wade swoons even harder.
“Oh, peanut. I knew you cared!”
“Just checking.” He mumbles, as if to dismiss the notion, but it’s proven moot again when he frowns, noticing a leaf still stuck to Wade’s hip. He flicks it off.
They walk back through the park, hands still twined together - good for keeping their fingers warm, since neither of them thought they’d need gloves. Wade swings them absently as he looks around, spotting familiar dog walkers to wave at. Mary trots merrily ahead of them, a bit more worn out now and more amenable to behaving civilly. She’s definitely scouring for squirrels though, so that could change in a split second.
They order their expensive drinks at the coffee van – expensive but damn worth it, because it’s the only decent stuff in five whole blocks, Althea proclaims, and asks for one every time they head to the park. Logan gets a pure black, no sugar, Althea a latte, and Wade plentiful marshmallows with some hot chocolate added to them. Mary even gets offered a little dog-bone biscuit from Carrie, which she takes without drooling on the vendor’s hand, and with upmost politeness. Not like she hadn’t been trying to gnaw off one of Wade’s toes not ten minutes ago. Ah, pets!
They pass the supermarket on the way home, and since it’s Halloween, the shop has a window display full of spookery – costume props and cute stuffed toys, with fake blood splattered on the glass and spiders dangling from the ceiling. Better yet, it also has a sign that says ‘Reduced’. Like a month to a flame, Wade drags Logan towards it.
“I just thought, maybe we should get more cider for the party! And do we have enough sweets?” He says, eyes brightening as he fixates on the paraphernalia, and Logan’s super strong - stronger than Wade, it turns out, if arm wrestling is a legitimate form of testing – and he could pull away, but he doesn’t. He could also talk Wade out of spending yet more money on pointless tat, but he doesn’t do that either.
They’re hosting game night tomorrow evening with the Family, costumes being mandatory for entry. Wade’s has been finished for weeks – he’s going as someone called Anna Valerious, and he’s got a soft, billowy sleeved shirt to wear, along with an actual corset and ridiculously tight leggings, and buckled thigh-high boots. He's showed it to Logan only once, and Logan has to swallow just thinking about it.
Logan’s original Wade-bestowed costume had involved pointy wolf ears and a tail. He’d (ironically) growled about it so much, Wade had given up persuading him Werewolfism was fun, and side-stepped into making a human Van Helsing costume instead. He had asked Logan to grow out his hair, and pouted when one; Logan said he wouldn’t, and two, realised it wouldn't get long enough anyway. But he’d produced a black leather hat, and a long black leather coat (more buckles and belts, apparently it was the style), and told Logan to wear all black underneath, too. Seemed simple and unoffensive enough.
In a decided flurry, Wade downs the last of his hot chocolate, and grabs for a trolley, leaving Logan stood with Mary’s lead in one hand, and the cooling coffees in their tray in the other.
“You go get more alcohol! I need to just go look over here!”
Which results in Logan, now plus a basket and another two packs of flavoured ciders, finding Wade surrounded in Halloweenery, actually stood in the crate where the last of the pumpkins are sat, examining a medium sized one for blemishes. There’s already another two in his trolley, along with a huge bag of sweets, half a dozen candy apples loaded with sprinkles and drizzled with chocolate, and a remarkably realistic looking skull.
“We’ve already got pumpkins, bub.” Logan says. They’d carved them half a week ago. Wade had made several, in fact: a very pointy, jagged scowling face; a silhouette of Mary howling at the moon; and then an intricate carving of a grumpy cat face he’d seen in a meme. He always said there was a certain level of artistry to his knife skills, and along with his imagination, that had proven it.
Logan had stayed traditional and made a simple face. He hadn’t really been fussed about the activity to start with – it was going to make a huge mess, and the slime on his hands after gutting the pumpkins was a little gross, and Wade had goaded him into using his claws, which didn’t feel all that pleasant. But it had been fun, in the end. Namely because Wade looked so happy, and cute when he focused with his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, and...Logan would do anything for him, it turns out. Even get pumpkin goo in places where it shouldn't be.
Afterwards, Wade had spent a long time wiping down Logan’s claws, helping him clean it all off. He'd been exceedingly gentle about it, and thorough, and ended up massaging Logan's hands and fingers until he’d almost been in a trance. That had felt...nice.
Even Al had partaken. She'd used cookie cutters in the shapes of stars and moons and planets, hitting them with a mallet to punch out the holes, until her pumpkin looked like some sort of galaxy globe.
They’d dotted them about the place, filled little electric tea lights, so the apartment glowed orange as they finished the day watching the first film of their seasonal marathon – Halloween.
“Yeah, but I thought we could do some more with Laura.” Wade says, stood in the Supermarket's Pump Patch and flicking a bit of dirt off the squash in his hand, frowning at it, then tossing it back into the pile. He bends at the waist to grab a larger one. “She said she was getting in at lunchtime tomorrow, right?”
Wade can wind Logan up like a toy, but can equally make his heart warm, too.
“Yeah, think she’d like that.”
***************
The party is a hit, obviously. Wade doesn’t do bad at fun. The picky food includes sausage finger rolls, bleeding with ketchup, and cheesy puff pastry bats and cat faces, with chives for whiskers. There's a plate of spicy chicken drumsticks and wings, for all the bones left behind, and a pizza topped with mozzarella slices shaped like skulls which Wade saw on pinterest. Frosted cupcakes with spiders made of chocolate buttons and liquorice straws for legs, and half-melted-marshmallow ghosts with funny faces.
They play cards, betting jelly sweets shaped like brains and witches hats, and chocolate balls covered in eyeball foil. They drink from dark coloured glass bottles Wade had labelled with potion names – Eye of Newt and Black Death, Wormwood Tincture and Blood Tonic, and a special one: Double Strength Aphrodisiac, which Wade hands to Logan with waggling eyebrows. Logan just smirks, and seals his lips around it, drinking deep.
“Don’t think we need that, bub.”
Peter gets his fangs stuck in a tin of cider, Vanessa’s witches hat and slinky dress is far more stunning than any Halloween costume has rights to be, and Dopinder is a bed-sheet wearing ghost - because he was too busy to make a costume - and takes great delight in trying to sneak up behind everyone and shouting ‘Boo!’. He does manage to startle Colossus – dressed as the Tin Man, and apparently a bit superstitious about the supernatural.
Yukio has drawn ball joints on her elbows and knees, and is wearing some sort of Japanese school uniform, looking like a very spooky doll, and NTW doesn’t look to be wearing a costume at all, but when Wade teases her about it she insists she is in fact some character from some horror novel, or something, you wouldn’t know, you don’t read. Maybe he’ll have to find a podcast about it.
Laura did one better than Logan, and donned the ears and a tail which her father refused. She spends the night growling at everyone and pretending to bite when they take food off her plate – namely Wade, who does it often because it’s hilarious. Mary even has a pumpkin costume, which means her body is bigger than she thinks, and she bounces off the sides of the sofa and the table legs like a zorb as she searches for dropped crumbs. Al is a Labubu, in a pair of bright red round glasses and hideously fluffy yellow cardigan Wade found at a charity shop, and paired with an equally hideously fluffy hat which has ear flaps and some extra stick-up ears he’d made to match.
“Helps block out most of your prattle.” She'd said, tying the earmuffs tight around her head. She’d still somehow wiped the floor with them at Go Fish, like normal.
As all the snacks got eaten, and all the drink got drunk, and the clock struck hour after hour, Al took her winnings and went to bed. Vanessa bid her goodbyes, and then Colossus was ushering the girls back to the mansion. Dopinder left explaining he had an early fair booked for the morning, and Peter was half asleep, laid prone on on the floor on the rug with is arms crossed over his chest, Mary snuggled under his armpit.
Wade roused him as Logan went about tidying up a little – just the worst of it, putting the left overs in the fridge, gathering up the dirty plates and bottles next to the sink; they’d leave the rest for tomorrow.
And as Peter called out a bit too loudly thanks, guys, you rock! as he shut the door very slowly behind himself, and Mary took another turn in her bed before flopping and returning to sleep, it was just Wade and Logan in the Halloween Dungeon of Apartment 17.
“Well…” Wade starts, and his smile spreads. He’d put on burgundy lipstick for his costume, lined his eyes dark, and he’d been wearing a long, luscious curled wig at one point until it got too itchy, and Dopinder had stolen it and put it on over his ghost-sheet, and done a bit of a waving, spinning dance, and it had everyone in stitches. But now Wade looks stunning without it, dressed to go kill monsters, the shape of his body and strength on display. Long legs and trim waist pulled in, shoulders seemingly even broader than normal.
Logan swallows.
“Think the potions worked.” Logan says, and Wade wasn’t prepared for that, and barks out a laugh.
“Think so?” He says, and the apartment is warm, so Logan had lost the leather jacket early on too, leaving him just in the dark turtle-neck and jeans, not really very Halloweeny at all, if it weren’t for his partners matching costume. But he’d kept the hat, because every time he took it off, Wade had sashayed over and put it back on. He sashays over again now, across the room, sidestepping fallen Vampire Fang Doritos and jelly snakes. He lowers his eyes, and tilts his head, all coy.
“Think maybe Al’s still got her hat on? Maybe we can be quiet?”
And Logan’s smirk spreads, slowly, and his eyes flicker to the sofa, then back to Wade. Wade grins wider, and pushes him backwards with a hand on his chest, digging in his painted nails. Step by step, his heels really make him tower over Logan, and that has Logan gulping in apprehension as he puts his hands on Wade’s hips and looks up and up.
When Wade pushes, Logan falls, landing on the sofa cushions and the TV remote. He shimmies off it just in time for Wade to slide his long legs about Logan's thighs and settle himself in Logan’s lap. He leans his elbows on Logan’s shoulders, and plays with the rim of his hat, and Logan hums back contemplatively, running his hands from Wade's hips to his waist, which is cinched into the corset and seems to fit perfectly against Logan's palms.
Wade lets the moment sit for a second or two, looking into Logan’s quickly blowing eyes, not quite hidden by the hat, before he ducks underneath it, to whisper in Logan’s ear:
“Gonna make you howl for me.” He smirks, and Logan groans in despairing frustration, and rolls his head onto the back of the sofa.
“Wade.” He grumbles, but Wade’s too busy giggling and ducking close to steal the protests off his lips.