Latest Posts by vagabondicus - Page 2
And they were roommates
Trying to train drawing with my non dominant hand again and hm. Have goobers i guess :)
Love with how little its the lads
Logan gnaws on things as if he’s constantly teething. He’s always done it, and typically resorted to chewing the inside of his cheek or the rim of a bottle in the past. It was more acceptable that way. No one really batted an eye, nor did he make a big deal about it
Well, until Wade picked up on it.
He first noticed it when Logan would chew and grind his teeth against the glass rim of some cheap whiskey that lasted a grand three hours, at best, on a bad day.
After that, Wade would discreetly offer things for Logan to chew on, most of which were immediately denied.
Until one night Althea, Wade, and Logan were all sitting in the living space of their apartment, watching some British tv show that Wade was heavily interested in. He was practically latched onto Logan, arm wrapped around his shoulders and leaning into the latter.
Halfway through the night, Logan had slowly brought Wade’s hand to his mouth, gnawing on the knuckle of the mercenary.
Wade was ecstatic to say the least. He didn’t dare move an inch incase Logan suddenly became self-aware and pulled away.
Wade didn’t care about the slobber collecting on his hand, nor the idle pain from Logan’s canines digging into his skin. He barely even cared for the show now, watching Logan completely space out instead. The soft blue light from the TV illuminated Logan’s face almost beautifully, and Wade couldn’t help but be enamored.
He rested his head down on Logan’s shoulder finally (very slowly as to not alert the man), relaxing into the sensation and the fluttering in his stomach.
He prayed the moment wouldn’t ever end, closing his eyes and listening to Logan’s breathing. He could stay there forever if whatever celestial being allowed it.
COUGH COUGH
Guilty.. for loving someone so different and yet the same. For thinking about that plane ride. Thinking about the late nights when he would pop his head under, talking to him from the top bunk.
“Hey Howlett, You want a bite? I stole it from Mr. Claws over there.” He said, with the biggest, kindest smile, one side bigger than the other. Reaching his hand down, it held what looked like a sweet roll.
“Do you have a death wish?” He had growled back then, his arms behind his head.
The upside down man just laughed, shrugging. “Ha! Don't we all? Oh shit- here he comes - Shh!”
That night, he remembered thinking that Wade might understand him. The only difference between those funny grins now was that this Wade had blue eyes and soft crow feet, a bigger crease in his face from how much he's smiled in this life.. something the gentle chocolate lab of his universe's Wade never got to experience..
"You! What did I say about taking my shit!?" His brother growled, trying to drag the man off of the bunk only for Wade to have such an excited glint in his eyes. Like he thought this was all a game at camp or something..
"Wooh! Watch out! kitty's got claws! And he's PISSED!" He announced, loud enough for Stryker to shout at them to settle down for bed and scold Wade, telling him to knock it off or he'd let Victor maul him.
"You heard him... Let him go, Vic." He muttered. "You don't even like those things."
"That's not the point, and you know it. He knows what he's doing." His brother snarled towards the bunk.
"Leave him, or you'll piss off the colonel.." He says in return, the lights being shut off by now. He hears him growl under his breath, walking away with his claws clentched into his fist.
Closing his eyes, Logan was only met with the little shits tags danging over the edge with such a shit eating grin. "Aye, thanks for defending me, back there."
By now, his own growls left his throat. "I didn't do shit, Wilson, now go the fuck to bed before I kill you myself."
"Awww, you love me too much for that, and you know it." He teased.
Logan snorts. "Tch. Yeah, right.."
Pulling himself back up, he was quick to lay down, finally still and silent.. but never for long.
"Night, Logan.."
He whispered. And right then and there Logan should have known not to walk away. He should have known to stay. He should have said goodnight..
He could have snitched on him that night. Let Victor slice him up. Maybe he didn't because he just didn't want to deal with it, but.. maybe it was fondness.
A fondness that he didn't bother chasing.. one he walked away from. Just like everything else..
COUGH COUGH
Aw damn it, I coughed up the complicated feeling of regret and second chances regarding worst wolvies affections for orgins wade!
Dag nab it! Not again!
You know your a bastard when you have Hatsune Miku and Johnny Cash in the same playlist
Logan can never tell what tone of voice he is using. Sometimes the tone doesn't match the words or his intentions.
Logan jokingly calling Wade a freak, but it comes out more serious than he realizes, and Wade is hung up on it for days.
queer people of all kinds. i am looking you in the eyes. do not fucking kill yourself. are you listening to me it will be okay. it will get better. i am shaking you by the shoulders do. not. fucking. do. it. you have so much to keep going for and so many people who love you. the cost of the present will not outweigh the life ahead of you. i love you. chin up or down keep walking you'll get there. we will pull you back up onto your feet should you fall. i love you
Do you think he visits Logan 😭😭
How do I stop smiling and laughing at bad times. Like I gotta stop this is not the time 😭✋
It’s not a real group hangout until I info dump about the Russian revolution
do you guys wanna see my favorite video on the internet yes you do
Thinking about how Logan is more open about his emotions than Wade despite what people perceive, and how Wade slowly learns to open up and confront his own emotions because of Logan.
Prompted by this amazing thread. Shoutout to @ramblingautisticman and @desperatelyneedcoffee for inspiring me to write this.
---
Most people expect Logan to be the more closed-off one. To hide his emotions behind a mask and keep them to himself.
But that's Wade's role.
Logan is honest about his emotions—when he's angry, he'll growl and thrash and let people know. When he's happy, he'll bark out a laugh and grin and let his eyes wrinkle at the edges. When he's sad, he'll cry and scream and drown himself in alcohol.
He may not be phased by smaller things, but he's honest about his feelings. (Something Wade could never do.)
Wade, on the other hand, isn't. He exaggerates trivial feelings, obvious situational ones—he'll cower in fear at a "scary enemy or pretend to be pissed over a minor inconvenience. He makes his outward, shallow emotions so loud that it turns everyone's attention away from what he's feeling inside.
(Because if people know how he feels inside, they'll see him and hate him. It's easier to be hated when you can chalk it up to "understandable" reasons, to being annoying or loud or inappropriate. It isn't easy when they hate you. When they look at you, bare and vulnerable and open, and hate who you are at your core.)
Wade has spent his entire life hiding his emotions. Even from himself.
He shoves them so deep down that they become a slightly bitter taste in the back of his throat until it all becomes too much and he violently throws them up.
Wade is like a glass bottle: he can steadily hold all his emotions inside, pretending to be OK, until the glass shatters and explodes and the shards dig everywhere and he's left to pick up the pieces.
But Logan isn't like that. He lets himself feel. He lets others see how he feels.
Even from the first moment they met, he let Wade know how he felt. How he fucked everything up. How he wasn't the hero he was looking for. How he was battling with so much grief and rage that he'd reached a point of complete apathy.
(It made Wade envious. To be able to just say it and move on.)
Logan was the first person Wade met to be so blatantly honest. To wear his emotions on his sleeve and act on them and still be strong and keep fighting.
(...Could he still be considered strong, if he did the same?)
When Wade was vulnerable, it felt like he was choking—the words tumbling out without his permission and leaving a mess behind. Even with the people he loved, he couldn't ever bring himself to fully trust them even if he knew he should. Even if he wanted to. (Even if he tried to.)
(He still remembers sitting across the kitchen table from Vanessa. She held his hand tightly, as if she was afraid he would slip away. Was slipping away. She was urging him to let her in. To tell her why he hadn't been himself. To open up so they could share the burden.
But he just... couldn't. How do you tell someone who loves you, who you turned back time to save that nothing was helping? That no matter how hard he tried to focus on Vanessa and just live a "normal" life that it all felt wrong? That he felt an itch under his skin to do more more more and nothing was "more" enough.
That he felt like he was just wearing his skin. Like it wasn't his, not since Francis twisted him into a monster he didn't want to become. That he still remembered her look of surprise and the reluctant way she cradled his face when she first saw it.
It wasn't her fault. He knew that. It was an adjustment.
...But why didn't anyone understand? The gnawing loneliness, the self-hatred, the feeling of everything being nothing and too much all at once.
He hated himself.)
But Logan let his emotions course through his veins like second nature. Wade watched as emotions twisted across his face like it was a form of art.
And, for the first time, he felt comfortable opening up. He let the words spill from his mouth, except instead of feeling the trail of acid burning through his throat it felt like relief. He finally met someone who understood him, who had gone through the same suffering. He saw his loneliness reflected in Logan's eyes and finally, finally, felt he could reach out without dragging someone down. (They were both already at rock bottom, anyway. The only place to go from here was up.)
And so he told Logan about Vanessa. About the family he wanted to save. About how, yes, he vaguely cared about the world, but none of this was to save the world. (It was for just nine people.)
And Logan... didn't judge him. He saw understanding—a tired, but real kind—reflected in his eyes. He didn't make fun of him for his selfish motivations. Didn't snarl in disgust that he could never be a hero because of them. (He saw him and didn't recoil.)
And there, sitting across the table from each other in that shitty building they'd escaped to, Wade finally felt seen. Understood. (Ironic, isn't it? To have to go to the void to open up about the void inside of himself. Wade would write a poem about it if he knew how to.)
He felt that same kinship as they continued their journey. Even through the insults, the exasperation, the annoyance, Wade could tell none of it was serious. Because Logan never really told him to fuck off. To stop.
If Logan didn't like him being touchy, he'd shove him off. (He didn't.) If Logan didn't like him asking questions and rambling about himself, he'd actually try to get him to shut up instead of just grumbling. (He didn't.) If Logan really didn't want to be here, he'd leave. (He didn't.)
Logan's visceral type of emotional honesty allowed Wade to let himself be vulnerable. Because if Logan hated him, he wouldn't be here. If Logan didn't want to hear it, he wouldn't tilt his head and listen and ask questions.
(It made Wade feel safe to express himself for the first time since he'd been strapped to that shitty operation table and torn apart until all that remained was a body not quite his own.)
Things were going good.
They were.
(Wade desperately hoped they'd stay that way.)
But then Logan pulled over the car, real and raw fury in his eyes. He yelled at Wade, his voice trembling with the intensity of it.
He picked apart everything Wade had told him. Threw it back in his face.
And oh. Oh.
Logan was honest. He was true to himself and his emotions.
And so, Wade thought quietly as the tired continued, he really meant it. It felt worse than when Logan had stabbed him.
(It felt like he was back on that operating table, small and weak and pathetic but still trying to keep smiling. To keep cracking jokes and being annoyed. Because, if he didn't, he'd break. If he didn't keep the shards of his personality clutched so tightly to his chest that they dug into his hands, nothing would be left of him.)
Logan dissected him. Using everything Wade told him. (Using the ammunition he'd provided.)
(Was Logan really looking at him with understanding, back then? Or was it disgust? The images blurred together in Wade's mind, distorting his memory.)
Told him how he was worthless. That the Avengers and X-men were right to reject him. (Ouch.) That it was his fault he couldn't salvage his relationship with Vanessa. (He'd tried. He'd tried so hard.)
That Logan saw him for what he was: a pathetic, attention-seeking parasite who clung to others instead of facing his own problems.
It really was God's greatest joke that he couldn't die.
Wade spiraled.
(Was he wrong this whole time? Did Logan really, truly hate him? He had to, if he's looking at Wade like that.)
If even Logan (the only person who could begin to understand his suffering) couldn't accept him, who could?
He felt like the ground was crumbling underneath him and he was falling and floating at the same time. He felt like he was an observer, looking in on the outside, even as his emotions crashed over him like a tsunami.
But he couldn't let himself break down. Wouldn't let himself be vulnerable. Not here. Not now.
So, he slid the mask back on and responded in the only way he knew how to.
"I'm going to fight you now."
(Even when they'd collapsed, bloody and weak and exhausted, the words kept ringing in his head. They'd let out their physical frustrations, maybe, but the words still clung to him like a blanket. There was still a sinking feeling in his gut. Dread twisting his stomach at the thought of being open.)
(The feeling never really went away.)
---
They started living together, in the aftermath.
Wade had called after Logan as he was about to leave and awkwardly asked him if he'd like to come home with him. Just long enough to find a place to stay, or even just for dinner.
(Logan couldn't refuse. Not with the sense of wrongness filling him as the distance between him and Wade grew with each step. When he heard Wade's voice, it felt like hope. It felt like coming home.)
One night turned into two, turned into a week, turned into a month until Logan had his own side of the dresser and nobody bothered to ask if he was leaving. (Thinking of leaving made Logan vaguely nauseous, now. It felt like ripping away the foundation of the home he'd painstakingly started to build here.)
Logan still had baggage. Still had days where all he wanted to do was grab a beer and stare blankly at the wall, thinking of all he'd done and all he'd lost.
But it was easier. Wade would walk into the living room, plop down next to him, and begin talking his ear off about whatever happened that day. He'd sling an arm around his shoulder, flip on the TV, and keep talking.
(Logan would lean against him, slightly. Would focus on Wade until his warmth and touch and voice drowned out his thoughts.)
(It worked better than alcohol ever had.)
Logan tried to let Wade know that he cared about him. That he appreciated it. Appreciated him.
(That Wade's presence was what made everything worth it. Made him finally feel like he was able to tread water without drowning.)
He'd cook Wade meals. (And pay attention to what he liked and disliked, making sure to cook things he knew Wade would comfortably eat.) He'd lean into his touch. Listen when he talked. Answer any questions he asked.
And so, when Logan came out from the shower one night and saw Wade curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the black screen of the TV, he approached him.
Wade had a vacant, empty look in his eyes. The kind that Logan recognized, but hadn't seen on him before.
It made him worried. He'd never seen Wade like this. (It was unsettling. To see Wade, who was so vibrant and expressive, look so bleak.)
"Is something bothering you, bub?" he asked, settling down next to Wade on the couch.
Wade finally seemed to register his presence, eyes flicking over to where he sat.
"Oh, peanut! I was wondering when you'd get out of the shower. Was it nice and steamy? I'd love to join you next time," Wade wriggled his eyebrows (or what was left of them) suggestively.
It was like a switch had flipped. Wade went from blank, like a doll with its strings cut, to animated and excited in a second. His eyes were sparkling again and he grinned at Logan like nothing was wrong.
(It was... uncomfortable. Did Wade not trust him? Was Wade hiding something from him?)
Logan wanted to question him, but Wade kept chattering and he could never really get a word in edgewise. (A part of him wondered if it was intentional.)
Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe Wade was just having a bad day. Logan tried to rationalize it, even as a pit formed in his stomach. A feeling of deep wrongness.
Except it kept happening.
Wade would get that same, desolate look in his eyes (always when he was alone, away from everyone) and Logan would walk in on him. Logan would try to see if something was wrong, but Wade would interject before he could.
(Logan knew his expression was concerned. Knew Wade could tell he was worried, that he cared about him. So why didn't Wade let him in?)
(Wade always listened, patiently, when Logan talked about his problems. It was one of the few times he'd go quiet, only occasionally asking questions and making extra commentary. He'd look at him with a grim understanding. Not pity, not sympathy, but empathy. Free of judgment. It was the first time Logan felt like his emotions were actually being received by someone, cradled and held and protected so that they didn't burn him out.)
Until, finally, one day, Logan snapped.
"What the fuck is up with you?" he snarled, and that didn't come out the way he intended but he was so frustrated by Wade refusing to just let him in.
"What do you mean, Wolvie? I'm—"
"Shut up. You're not fine. I've been alive for two hundred fucking years, I know by now when someone's lying, Wade," Logan interrupted before he could continue his usual antics.
"Look, I'm just having a bad day, alright? You know how it is. I'll be up and running after I take a nap, don't worry about little old me!" Wade's voice took on a faux-cheerful tone.
"This isn't just a bad day, bub. It's been happening a lot. You get this look in your eye, like you're not really there, and just stare at the wall." Logan stared at Wade with concern evident on his face. "It's worrying."
Wade snorts. "You don't have to worry about me of all people."
Logan furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean? 'You of all people?' Of course, I'd be worried about you, dumbass. I care about you and if you're hurting, I want to know why."
And Logan was so painfully honest. It was so clear in his eyes, in his expression, in his body language that he cared about Wade. Deeply.
It made Wade snap.
"Just shut up! Stop fucking talking. I don't want to hear it." Wade wished he had hair right now so he could fucking tear it out. He'd take any kind of physical pain just to distract himself from Logan, worried and open and trying to pry him open.
"Wade, what are you—you know you can tell him about anything, right?" Logan tried to regulate his breathing, to keep his tone calm. To not show the panic he was feeling. (It was obvious anyway.)
"What, so you can throw that back at me, too?"
What? What was Wade—
"So you can tell me I'm a fucking joke? That every superhero team was right to turn me down? That I couldn't even manage to keep a relationship with a stripper?"
Oh. Oh fuck. That was—
"That I should just fucking kill myself, but of course, it's God's best joke that I can't die, so now my pathetic existence is on you?"
He couldn't possibly think Logan meant that, right? Couldn't have been thinking about that this whole time—
"I don't want to burden your royal highness with my stupid problems," Wade practically snarled, "so stay the fuck out of it."
He slammed the door and left.
And Logan was left alone.
Logan wanted to run after him, to grab him and tell him that he didn't mean it. He was pissed off and spewing whatever came to his mind in the moment to hurt Wade. (And he'd achieved that goal, hadn't he?) He felt betrayed and responded in the only way he knew—by lashing out. (But that wasn't an excuse, not really. Not to take everything Wade had trusted him with and twist it. To betray his trust in such a personal, visceral way.)
(Logan knew that Wade meant well. That he was just scrambling to save his world and thought of the only solution that would get Logan to help. That when he made an "educated wish" he'd still try to see it out, had still asked the TVA after everything. But he was so fucking angry and so fucking tired and just wanted any excuse to lay down and die.)
Did Logan really have the right to, though?
Wade had listened to him. Helped him. Even after what Logan had said and done, he'd still cared. (And wasn't that a sobering thought. That this whole time, Wade thought that was Logan's opinion of him. That he still cared about Logan despite having his voice ringing in his ears, tormenting him.)
(It made Logan angry to think that Wade was used to it. To setting aside how people treated him and not expecting anything in return for his kindness. To loving and giving without receiving. It made him want to murder the people who set the bar so low. It made him want to rip out his own tongue.)
(It made him realize, yet again, that Wade was a better man than he'd ever be.)
...And Logan had fucked up. Immensely.
Had given Wade hope that he could finally open up to someone who came from a similar background and understood his suffering. All to tear it away in one glorious, horrible, mistake.
Logan had no right to fix things. To ask for forgiveness. (From Wade. From anyone.)
But what was the alternative? Letting Wade think he hated him? Leaving?
Logan would rather die than go back to living completely isolated from the world. He couldn't go back to waking up every day and drowning his sorrows with alcohol. Letting memories flash behind his eyes as he replayed everything he fucked up and obsessed over what he could've done differently.
(Because, without Wade, he would still be there. At rock bottom. Without a place to belong or any reason to get up in the morning. A samurai without a master. A drifter without purpose. A stray without a home.)
The thought of leaving behind the only thing he cared about anymore made him panic. He felt nauseous, like he wanted to throw up yesterday's dinner and his own heart alongside it.
He knew it was selfish and pathetic, but he couldn't let go. Couldn't handle losing the only thing that made living worth it, after everything.
(Of course, when he finally found someone who was like him, who felt the same loneliness, who couldn't die, he had to go and fuck up. What is Logan good for if not ruining anything good in his life?)
Logan knew he was selfish. And pathetic. And stupid.
(He felt his mouth move around the words. Spit venom at Wade, who was completely, utterly silent. He heard them, vaguely, but they didn't register. He was running on pure rage and adrenaline.)
(Why did he take until now to notice?)
He knew that.
But he didn't think it was this bad. That he'd end up ruining the only good thing to come out of his miserable existence.
He thought, at least, that even if he'd fucked up everything else, he could be good with Wade. Could be good for Wade. It was the one thing he prided himself on.
And now look at him.
Instead of Wade, it's Logan who was God's best joke.
Fuck, he wanted a beer.
toxic yaoi ❤️💛
Logan, who rolls his eyes at Wade's constant moving and squirming in their bed. Logan, who grumbles at him to shut up during the night when they are both trying to sleep because Wade won't stop rambling nonsense. Logan, who growls and shakes him off whenever they accidently end up intertwined in their sleep.
Except then Wade ends up on a merc job that runs through the night and Logan can't fucking sleep.
At first, he isn't sure what the problem is. He did his usual routine, set up the pull out and climbed under the covers, looking forward to a night with the bed to himself.
He then proceeds to toss and turn for hours. His brain won't shut off enough for him to fall asleep, and he can't get fucking comfortable. It's driving him insane, and he lies there for hours, utterly frustrated because he is tired. He's exhausted, actually, and yet he can't fall asleep and the why of it all doesn't hit him till about 3am.
The bed isn't creaking softly under Wade's constantly bouncing leg and shifting positions. There's no running commentary that quietens his own thoughts enough to let him drift off. There's nothing warm and solid that smells like Wade to wrap himself around during the night when his body is craving touch the most.
He gives up with a growl, flicking on the TV and relenting to the fact he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. His brain won't shut the fuck up repeating Wade's name like a damn mantra, and his body is practically vibrating with anxiety over the fact the merc wasn't next to him right now where he was supposed to be.
(Ridiculous and possessive, he scolds himself. Wade is his own damn person, and he has more important stuff to do that be Logan's emotional support teddy bear. Not to mention he's over two hundred fucking years old, and shouldn't need an emotional support teddy bear.)
Wades gets back at six in the morning. Logan can smell the thick scent of his blood before he actually sees him, and he's already up and at the door as Wade enters silently.
He almost jumps out of his skin when he sees Logan standing there waiting for him.
"Fuck, peanut! Warn a guy next time! I thought you'd still be sleeping," Wade says, pulling his mask off, clutching his chest dramatically.
Now that Wade's here, standing in front of him after Logan spent the last eight hours craving his prescence to a nauseating degree, he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't want to freak Wade out with his own stupid attachment, settles on a "you okay?"
His voice cracks, and Wade looks instantly worried, taking a step into his space.
"I think I should be asking you that," he frowns, and Logan shrugs, tries to keep his tone light and casual as he replies, "couldn't sleep."
It comes out the opposite of light and casual. The heaviness of the emotion there is embarrassing and obvious, and Wade clicks on without any further clarification.
Logan cringes, waiting for the jokes. Waiting for Wade to gloat about making it so he can't sleep without him, and the thing is Logan would take it all on the chin. Would accept every condescending word if it meant that Wade would just come to bed with him.
Except Wade's face goes soft instead, and he's tugging off his blood stained gloves and lifting both hands to cup Logan's face. His expression is... fond, and Logan wants to tell him he doesn't deserve it, but instead he just kind of melts into the touch. Into Wade's warmth. His smell. It's intoxicating, and a better distraction than any bottle Logan had ever found himself at the bottom of.
"I... come to bed, please? I'm so tired," Logan mumbles, and Wade smiles.
"There's no where else I'd rather be, sweetheart. Let me shower off the blood and I'm all yours."
Logan's anxiety spikes a little despite himself, and he's scanning over Wade with concern, "are you definitely alright?"
"Immortal, remember? I'm completely fine peanut, but if you want to join me in the shower to examine me yourself I'm not complaining," he wags his non-existent eyebrows, and Logan snorts.
"That shower would never fit the two of us."
"Is that a challenge?"
And he isn't sure why, but the warm familiarity of their back and forth sends him into a fresh wave of emotion again, and he finds himself pulling Wade in for a hug before he could chastise himself for even wanting it.
Wade hugs him back tight, running a hand over his back, "so no more overnight jobs?"
Logan grumbles his disapproval, and Wade chuckles in his hold.
part two to this but can be read alone
when their relationship first shifted from begrudging to friendly to something else, wade had expected to have to fight for it. he thought it was going to be claws and teeth and knives and guns and goading the wolverine until he finally gave in and admitted his feelings.
he was very wrong. so wrong, in fact, that he was blindsided when logan was the one to make the first move.
they spent all of their time together to the point that they eventually just quit pretending to want to sleep apart. wade abandoned his spot in the bedroom with althea to join logan on the cramped sofa bed. it started innocently enough - they would stay up late watching a movie, and wade would just stay in the living room instead of going to bed. this happened a couple of nights a week (they really spent that much time together) for approximately two weeks before wade just started climbing into the sofa bed at night without pretense. he always made sure to keep to his side, scared to push what he thought was a delicate balance too far and lose it altogether.
wade was almost too cautious of their peculiar relationship. as much as he wanted to jump the wolverine's bones or cuddle up to his chest in the night, he was too afraid of driving the other man away. wade knew he was annoying; of course, he knew that. it was kind of his whole schtick. most people could barely stand him, and he knew that logan's tolerance levels were even lower still. at least, that's what he got from their time in the void.
sure, logan had been much calmer and kinder since he had agreed to stay with wade and al (and mary, possibly the most important household member). and yeah, maybe he smiled fondly when wade ran his mouth incessantly instead of plunging his claws through the merc's throat. and, okay, sometimes wade catches logan looking at him with the softest look in his eyes.
but still. the mercenary wasn't willing to sacrifice the friendship he had with the only person in the world that he would never have to say goodbye to. as long as he didn't fuck this up, that is.
so, you can imagine his surprise when the two had settled into bed one night (after a marathon of real housewives because, for whatever reason, logan was obsessed with the trash tv) and he felt a heavy arm wrap around him.
he had been laying on his side, facing away from logan, with mary curled up by his legs. wade was a fitful sleeper and knew it wouldn't be long before his shifting legs and flailing arms sent the dog to find a more comfortable arrangement, but he loved that she still chose to snuggle up against him while she could. that was normal, though. what wasn't normal was the face pressed into the nape of his neck, or the arm circling his waist, or the hand resting on his chest. wade felt frozen, sure that him moving or speaking would send whatever this was off kilter and result in him sleeping in al's room again.
(side note: when had it become al's room? he lived here too, dammit, and even if he didn't sleep in the room anymore it's still his as much as it is hers.)
(it was al's room.)
thank god he didn't have to sit in his fear for long before logan spoke, his voice rumbling against wade, warm breath fanning over his neck.
"this is okay, right?" that brought wade right back to life. the thought of logan questioning this was enough to kick him into gear. he placed his hand over logan's on his own chest and shifted backwards into the other man's warmth.
"of course it is, peanut." his voice was barely louder than a whisper, perhaps still unwilling to break the moment. "it's perfect."
maybe it wasn't the frenzied fight-turned-makeout-session-turned-fuckfest that wade had imagined it would be, but maybe it was even better. and besides, this was only the beginning. they had forever to figure out the rest.
as much of a romantic as I know logan to be I can't see him at his big age using words like "partner" or "boyfriend/girlfriend" to describe a significant other. I think when he introduces wade to someone he says "he's my..." and then he flips through all the options in his head and he hates the idea of any of them coming out of his mouth so he just says "he's mine." and wade.. ummm let's just say logan never hears the end of it.
THEY MAKE ME INSANE
Proof below:
Also, I’m fucking crying, I think his arm is like that bc he fell asleep holding the photo.
EDIT: more proof:
Old Man Yaoi Semifinals
Having a wide music taste is so funny sometimes cause like I was watching the second maze runner movie with my sister, and Walkin’ after midnight by Patsy Cline came on and I said “oh this song FUCKS HARD!” and she just kinda looked at me like 🫤
Sometimes I remember I have a belly button and I just feel a little ashamed of myself
In another time, another life, Wade is still talking logan's ear off
i love that every time magneto loses his helmet in the x men movies he immediately starts going charles you could make me do ANYTHING YOU WANTED right now......... i'd be POWERLESS TO STOP YOU........ you could GET IN MY MIND and HAVE ME AT YOUR MERCY..... i think a lot of their problems could have been solved if charles just took him up on what was a very blatant proposition
Ok but Logan who gets really mad when People act like Wade is stupid.
They dismiss Wade because 'he's insane and doesn't have a coherent thought in his head' meanwhile Logan just watched him set up a whole plan to break into a facility for a job and have a plan for every possible mistake.
Logan knows Wade is the smartest man in the room hell he is definitely smarter then Logan and that's not an easy feat. He doesn't fancy himself a genius, but you learn a lot when you've lived for so long.
He has on multiple occasions seen Wade grab new tech on jobs bringing it home and deconstructing it to figure out how it works so he can be prepared for next time.
It bothers him even more Wade allows them to say such things about him. He knows it's a part of his stick to act like he doesn't know what's going on ever but it grades on Logan.
He remembers he first thought that way as well and he will never forgive himself. But he had learned quite quickly and quite honestly it'd been one of the most attractive aspects of Wade.
When Wade went off on a rant Logan couldn't follow about something he found interesting or just some mumbo jumbo about something he'd learned. Logan quite honestly wanted to eat him alive
(me and my cannibalism metaphors and actual literal cannibalism 😞 what can you do about it)
gender identity:
older brother in a teen movie who has caution tape and a hazardous waste symbol on his door