Chapter Text
Gambit makes biscuits and gravy for them the next morning, the sharp zing of heat from the andouille sausage adding a nice kick to start their day. Laura clears the table while Logan washes up and Wade dries, Gambit and Althea already bickering about what to watch on TV.
They’ve made themselves at home on the couch that Logan and Laura moved to the living room shortly after waking, Gambit on one end with Althea on the other, looking ready to start swatting each other if they can’t settle on a channel.
“Woman, give me dat remote!” Gambit finally snaps, trying to reach over to where Althea has a death grip on said remote.
“Eat my ass!” she growls and slaps his hand with her own.
Luckily for all of them, there’s a knock at the door before they can devolve into a cat fight; the furniture has arrived.
With the four of them it’s short work moving everything into place, and soon Logan and Wade are dividing up their drawers and putting folded clothes away while Gambit fills the new dresser in Althea’s room with his own wardrobe.
Laura already has her new mattress made with meticulous care, fresh sheets and blankets tucked in with near military precision. She’s finding places on the shelves for her few nicknacks and books while Logan and Wade shove and push their furniture into different configurations until they’re finally satisfied.
Although it’s not ideal, Gambit will take over the pullout couch in the living room.
“Did ye see our place in da Void?” he asks when Logan apologizes for the lack of privacy. “Ain’t no one had no privacy dere, ei’der. It’s fine.”
They celebrate their new furniture with pizza that afternoon and are just settling down to watch a movie they’ve all agreed upon when Wade gets a text message.
He looks at his phone, does a double take at whatever it says, then jumps up and runs into the bedroom. Logan shares a baffled look with the others before he gets up and follows.
Wade is undressing, his uniform on the bed, the phone pressed to his ear. Logan scowls when he recognizes the voice.
“…thought it would be up your alley, if you’re interested. The bounty has gone up to three million and will probably rise again if we can hold off the others until after midnight.”
“Just tell me where to meet you and I’m there, Baba Yaga!” Wade says, catching sight of Logan and flashing him a bright grin.
Logan’s scowl turns fierce even as he takes note of the rattled off address.
“Meet me in an hour,” John says, and then hangs up before Wade can reply.
Wade pumps the air with his fist and hops around, trying to pull his suit pants up over a pair of tiny, lacy pink panties.
Logan blinks stupidly as he finally takes in what he’s seeing.
“Can you believe this? Three million, Peanut! Even split with John, this means we’ll be set for the next year on rent! We can probably even get you a bike to rival the Cavillrine’s!” Wade cheers, waving his fists in the air even as he goes to grab his uniform top.
Logan reaches out before he can stop himself, hands finding themselves on Wade’s waist, eyes glued to the little strip of pink lace that’s peeking out over the top of his trousers.
Wade freezes for a moment before a smirk slowly pushes his lips into a Grinch-ish smile.
“Like what you see?” he asks in a low, sexy voice. “They were supposed to be a surprise for tonight.”
Logan’s tongue feels glued to the top of his mouth, his body suddenly hot with desire.
Without thinking, he kicks their door closed, pushing Wade further into the room until he’s pressed against the far wall. Then he sinks to his knees, pulling Wade’s pants down with him.
“Oh, holy fucking hell,” Wade groans, biting the knuckles of his left hand as the other tangles in Logan’s hair. Logan mouths at Wade’s rapidly swelling cock through the delicate fabric, presses open mouthed kisses to the hard flesh beneath his lips.
Wade throws his head back against the wall with a thud, trying to keep quiet as Logan moves the damp fabric out of the way to take in all of Wade’s flushed cock, thick and scarred like the rest of him and absolutely perfect.
He laps at the head, bitter and salty pre-come coating his tongue. Wade lets out a sound like he’s being stabbed, a hissed groan that seems to be torn from his soul.
It’s been a while since he’s done this, but Logan has always enjoyed sex, and he finds it easy to slowly take Wade all the way in, suppressing his gag reflex. The smell of Wade, musky and sharp, is intoxicating, more potent than any whiskey or beer. It fills his nose, his chest, drool pooling in his mouth as he works, sucking and tonguing the rough flesh.
It’s quick and dirty, Wade continuing to make little mewling sounds as he bites his knuckles hard enough to draw blood.
Logan quickly undoes his jeans one handed, the other clamped around Wade’s waist, thankful he usually goes commando, and strokes himself roughly as Wade’s hips start to make little thrusts.
Logan hollows his cheeks, relishing in the sharp pain as Wade tugs on his hair, a warning he ignores as Wade starts to come with a strangled cry he can’t contain.
Logan follows soon after, still swallowing bitter come.
For a long moment neither of them is able to move, panting heavily. Logan rests his forehead against Wade’s stomach, his mouth open as he uses all his senses to take in his smell and taste.
When Logan finally manages to look up, Wade is grinning down at him, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed.
“Logan,” Wade whispers, like a prayer.
He tugs his hair again, prompting Logan to stand and press his mouth to Wade’s.
The kiss is all tongue and wet lips, Wade’s hands running over Logan’s chest, his neck, then back up to his hair, making a mess of it, his cock soft and wet against Logan’s thigh. The kiss goes on for quite a while until, finally, Logan pulls back.
“Just a little something to remember me by,” Logan whispers as he reaches down tucks Wade back into the lace panties.
He wipes his hand off on Wade’s discarded shirt, grinning as Wade’s cock starts to fill again, straining the flimsy garment.
“Hoe my God,” Wade moans at him. “You are such a menace when you’re jealous!”
Logan doesn’t deny it, just finishes helping Wade dress, unable to stop his hands wandering over the luscious ass.
“If you keep that up, I’ll never leave, and we’ll be out of the money, Peanut,” Wade warns, only partially joking.
“Then you better make sure you get that money and get your ass home, huh?” Logan asks, moving to bite at Wade’s earlobe, deliberately brushing his sideburn against his cheek. “I have plans for you tonight, Princess, and those panties are only giving me ideas,” he whispers.
Wade whimpers, biting his lip, eyes boring into Logan’s.
“You are such a bastard,” he finally hisses.
His erection isn’t visible, the suit has built in protection that does a great job of hiding any such problems, but Logan can smell the lust and pheromones coming off him.
“I’m your bastard,” he purrs, and smacks Wade’s ass, hard, before taking a step back.
Logan adjusts himself, willing his erection away, even though he knows his hair is fucked and he smells like sex.
Oh, well, he mentally shrugs.
He watches Wade put his mask on with regret, and then they look each other over for a moment before Wade does his giggle-snort and tries to put some order to Logan’s hair.
When he’s satisfied, he opens the door to the bedroom.
Gambit, Laura and Althea clap from their seats on the couch as they exit the room.
Wade does a deep bow, and Logan gives them all the finger, adding a “Get fucked,” for Althea’s sake.
“Sounds like you already did,” Laura teases, and Logan just raises an eyebrow at her. “You forgot the white noise generators.”
“I’ll pick them up on my way home,” Wade assures, smacking Logan’s ass as he passes him on the way to the door. “Peanut, I’ll see you tonight. The rest of you might want to get some noise canceling headphones because I assure you, we are having wild, filthy, no holds barred sex when I get back!”
Logan feels himself blush, closing his eyes.
This is the man he loves, he reminds himself.
“Ooo-la-la,” Gambit says in a sing-song voice.
“Lord, why couldn’t you have taken my hearing?” Althea mutters and turns back to the television now that the teasing is out of the way.
Logan waits for Wade to leave, waving at them all as he closes the door, then heads to the shower.
Wade may be shameless, but Logan does still have some manners.
*
Wade returns just before one in the morning, smelling of blood, gunpowder, and John fucking Wick. Before he’s even closed the door, Logan is on him, pressing him against the door frame and ripping his mask off, kissing him almost brutally.
“Good Lord, take ye man and fuck him in yer own room,” Gambit yells, throwing a pillow at them from where he’s splayed out on the pullout.
It hits them both, but Logan just picks it up and throws it back.
“Night, Gumbo,” Logan says, and pulls Wade towards the bathroom.
The bathtub is slightly larger than their last, and the water pressure is definitely better, but it’s still a tight fit for two grown men. Logan doesn’t care, stripping Wade with hurried hands, wanting to wash off the smell of that man.
“Hey, Peanut,” Wade says quietly once he’s completely nude, putting his hands on Logan’s shoulders.
Logan is still dressed in his white undershirt and jeans, Wade’s palms leaving smears of red and black where he touches.
“Logan,” Wade whispers. “I’m all yours. I promise.”
He holds up a pinky, and Logan smiles, linking their fingers.
“Tight!” Wade hisses.
Logan undresses as Wade turns the shower on, barely waiting for the spray to be warm before stepping into the tub and dragging Wade with him.
He makes sure to soap up every part of Wade’s body, from his scalp to between his ass. He uses his own soap, making sure he leaves a thick lather before rinsing it off.
He gives himself a perfunctory scrub down as well, and then they’re drying off. Logan uses the fluffiest of their towels on Wade, knowing his skin can be sensitive, and Wade returns the favor with the still damp towel Logan had used earlier.
With five of them in the apartment, they each have their own hook Logan installed two days after Gambit moved in, making sure everyone has a tiny bit of space to themselves.
Five toothbrushes sit in the holder by the sink, three different tubes of toothpaste lined up neatly side by side.
The bathroom is warm, smelling of mint and sandalwood soap, the mirror fogged up with condensation.
Logan has never loved a place more.
*
Wade had indeed picked up a few white noise machines on his way home, tiny little things that fit into Logan’s palm. He sets one up in their bedroom and leaves the other two in the kitchen for whoever grabs it first. Then he closes and locks their bedroom door, turning to Wade.
Neither of them has dressed beyond the towels wrapped around their waists, and Wade drops his as soon as the door is closed, standing before Logan in all his bare glory. With a flick of his wrist Logan’s towel joins his, and then he’s stalking up to the other man until they’re chest to chest.
“Like what you see, Peanut?” Wade asks softly, his hands coming to rest on Logan’s pecks.
“Fuck yeah,” Logan assures, his voice deeper, rougher with desire. “I’m gonna eat your ass like it’s the last peach on earth, then I’m gonna fuck you. And when we’re done with that, you’re gonna fuck me,” he says.
Wade’s mouth falls open, the scent of his lust filling the room.
“I can live with that,” he manages to say, sounding half strangled.
Logan proceeds to do exactly as he promised, pushing Wade back on the bed and immediately settling between his thighs. He nuzzles the warm, pink flesh behind Wade’s balls and then places a kiss right on his hole.
He tongues him until Wade is whining, whimpering little gasps that have Logan’s cock hard and aching. After several minutes, he changes over to his fingers, trying to be gentle, to take his time in stretching Wade out, but Wade moans and rocks himself down, as though trying to open himself by shear force of will.
It isn’t long before Logan has to retrieve the bottle of lube they put in the nightstand earlier that day, coating his fingers before diving back in, whispering encouraging sweet nothings against Wade’s skin.
When he finally sinks his cock into Wade’s perfect ass, the world fades away. All that remains is the two of them rocking together, their flesh slapping in an animalistic rutting as they chase their orgasms.
Logan has a hand around Wade’s cock, but Wade is flexing his internal muscles, goading Logan into coming first, and Logan is helpless against the flutters squeezing him tight. Within minutes he’s coming, nearly snarling with the intensity of it.
He buries his face in Wade’s neck, biting down almost on instinct as he feels Wade’s own orgasm roll through him, the iron tang of blood filling his mouth.
The room smells of their unique scents and sex, a comforting, thick fog of pheromones that stakes their claim. Even the faint traces of Gambit’s scorched earth are fading, and in a few days, Logan will know instantly if anyone besides the two of them have come into their space.
Wade pants beneath him, the two of them catching their breath, pressing kisses to damp skin and running fingers over sensitive flesh.
When Logan pulls out, they both groan, but then Wade is instantly curling up next to him, humming happily as he twirls a finger through Logan’s chest hair.
“I love you so much,” Wade whispers, almost like he’s divulging a secret.
Logan presses a kiss to the side of his temple, leaves his lips there as he murmurs, “I know.”
Wade lets out a wet, snorting laugh and smacks Logan right on the nipple.
“Okay, Han Solo,” he snickers.
Logan holds him tighter, turns his head so his lips are right over Wade’s ear.
“I love you, too.”
*
They spend the night making love. More than fucking, more than just sex. It’s a connection between them, flesh meeting flesh, as close as two people can be without a time ripper jamming their atoms together.
Wade is tender, even though he knows Logan can take anything he gives him. He chooses to keep his touches gentle, light, almost teasing. When he finally sinks into Logan’s body, both of them sigh.
Logan keeps his eyes locked with Wade’s, trying to memorize this moment, the way those warm, brown eyes gaze into his, hiding nothing.
He gives himself to Wade in a way he hasn’t given himself in a long, long time. Sex is easy, but love…
That’s something Logan thinks he’ll be working on until the day he dies.
When the first rays of dawn start to creep past their curtains, they’re still awake, cuddled next to each other, enjoying the lazy lassitude of post orgasmic bliss.
They finally fall asleep as they hear the others start to stir.
They’re safe, and loved, and no one is going to take this moment from them. Of that, Logan is more certain than anything in his life.
And he’s over 200 years old.
** Six Months Later**
The April morning still has a bite to it as Logan maneuvers his bike down the long driveway to the X-Mansion. The sharp chill nips at his cheeks, refreshing after the long, slushy days of winter.
A part of him still dreads making this trip, even though he’s been coming to the mansion regularly for the past three months. Every time he turns the last corner, he still expects to see the front doors gaping open and smell ozone and blood in the air.
Each time it gets a little easier, to believe that such a thing won’t happen in this universe.
He parks his bike in the garage next to Scott’s and Gambit’s, smiling when he notices that the Cajun has already loaded his saddlebags. It’s probably the best part of this arrangement, driving home on Friday nights with Laura tucked up against his back, Gambit’s cheerful whoops echoing down the road as they make their way back to the city.
The classes themselves aren’t bad, even though the first couple had been a bit rough. Logan is not as patient as he used to be, nor is he as forgiving of careless mistakes. Kurt helps tremendously in diffusing the tension when he starts to lose his temper.
The mutant is a curious, gentle soul, mischievous in ways that remind him a bit of Bobby, but without the edge of a prankster. He’s good with the children, even though he looks barely old enough to be out of school himself.
It had been a shock, that first day they had met, to meet someone so outwardly different from humans who hadn’t let their hatred tarnish his soul. It’s also nice to be around someone who doesn’t evoke memories that threaten to rip his heart out.
He’s better about being around the team, able to speak with them without falling into a panic attack. The differences between his world and this one help, though some things are more of a shock than others.
Such as the first time Magneto came down the stairs from the private rooms, dressed casually and without his helmet. It had taken both Charles and Rogue to hold him back from attacking until they could explain.
Apparently, this Erik is married to Charles.
What the ever-loving fuck?
“I’m so sorry, Logan,” Charles had apologized, repeatedly, after that altercation.
“A little warning would have been good, Chuck!” Logan had spat, and then left for the rest of the week as he tried to process the world altering news.
Wade and Gambit had taken him out drinking that night, the three of them getting so shit faced drunk they had woken up in another state, wearing matching green dresses and with lipstick marks all over their faces.
Logan still has no idea what they got up to, but thankfully no one has come to arrest them, so he figures it couldn’t have been too illegal.
It helps, more than he wants to admit, to know he has people he can do that with, be silly and unguarded and not have to worry about hurting them. Gambit may not regenerate, but he’s a brilliant fighter, and the closest Logan has come had been during a basketball game when he had lost his temper and stabbed the ball right before Gambit went to dive for it.
They play baseball now, or street hockey; Gambit is too southern for games on the ice.
Sometimes the X-Men join them, trying to build bonds through social interactions, as Charles calls it.
Logan doesn’t mind, but he still prefers when it’s just his close family. He supposes being a transplant means his new roots grew differently.
Logan shakes his head, trying to bring himself back to the present. He has a class to teach, and then all three will be returning home for the weekend.
He had almost cancelled coming in today. The previous day had been horrible for Wade, one of those where he begged Logan to let him shoot himself. Logan had refused, of course. Even if he knew Wade would recover, he still couldn’t bring himself to say yes.
Instead, he had bundled Wade up in the softest blankets they owned and gone down to the pot shop himself to get him edibles.
Althea had had a point about how much of a rip-off it was, but Logan didn’t feel like tracking down their usual dealer, not when Wade was nearly writhing with misery on their bed.
It took six cookies and a bottle of moonshine from their rooftop still before Wade was finally able to pass out, waking up three hours later with the munchies and looking paler and weaker than Logan had seen him in a long time.
It had been a rough day for all three of them, and they had retired early, Logan holding Wade as tenderly as he knew how through the night, until it was time for him to get ready for his trip to the mansion.
Wade had insisted he go in anyway.
“I’m just going to sit here with sugar tits and maybe crochet you a sweater,” he said, snuggling next to Althea on the sofa, ignoring her exasperated sigh.
She didn’t push him away, though. She never did. Just turned on the TV and shooed Logan out.
So here he was, walking down the hallway to his shared class, the sound of children giggling and running up and down stairs a bittersweet soundtrack to the mansion’s daily life.
“Hey, Kurt,” he calls as soon as he enters the class, grinning at the other’s start, looking up from where he’s grading papers at his desk.
“Logan, gut morning!” he greets, setting aside the assignments. “Vat are ve in store for today?”
“Something easy,” Logan assured. “We’re making candles.”
“Oh, they vill love that!” Kurt agrees, standing up and walking over to him, patting his shoulder companionably. “Vat vill ve need?”
It doesn’t take long to set everything up, and once the kids file in, curious about the pot already sitting on a portable stove, the lesson goes more or less as planned.
One child, a little girl of around nine, refuses to listen when repeatedly cautioned about the danger of the wax, and ends up burning her arm by being careless.
“I warned you,” Logan says without sympathy, ignoring her tears and wobbly lip. “Maybe next time you’ll listen when you’re told not to do something.”
Kurt steps in quickly, distracting the girl before she can start crying again, and tasks one of the older students to escort her to the nurse. He gives Logan a disappointed look, but Logan just shrugs.
If a kid doesn’t listen when told something is dangerous, it’s their own fault for getting hurt. Too many children in his world had been killed for far less, and he figures it’s better to learn the lesson in a safe environment than one in which a life is on the line.
The other students are much more cautious after the girl leaves and there are no more accidents.
Laura meets him in the hallway after the last class, backpack slung over her shoulder, wearing a black leather jacket and riding boots.
“Ready to go home?” he asks, unable to keep the smile from his face at the sight of her.
It’s always rough, when Gambit and Laura leave on Mondays, but Logan knows it’s for the best. So long as they keep in touch and don’t do anything too stupid, he’s happy for them to be making friends at the mansion and figuring things out for themselves.
“Hi, Mr. Howlett!” a voice calls from ahead of them.
Laura bares her teeth with a snarl and a startled “meep!” followed by scurrying footsteps has Logan sighing.
“You can’t stay mad at her forever,” he admonishes, placing his hand on Laura’s back to steer her around the crowded hallway.
“Pues mírame. Por lo que a mi me importa, ella puede seguir corriendo*,” Laura mutters under her breath.
Logan doesn’t push it. He knows how protective Laura is of her family, and it would take time for Jubilee to make up for the unforgivable sin of asking Gambit, within Laura’s hearing, what had happened to Wade to make him so ugly.
He knows she’s just a dumb kid with no filter, but even he had been taken aback by the question, glad that it was Gambit who had very nearly torn her a new one and not Laura literally doing so.
As they pass the last classroom, he hears a familiar voice speaking quietly to a student, tone gentle and encouraging. His steps slow for just a moment, the familiar cadence of Storm’s voice both inviting and repellent.
She’s not his Storm, and it gets a bit easier to remember each time he reminds himself of that.
They continue on their way without stopping, meeting up with Gambit in the garage, eager to get on the road before the sun goes down. He’s looking forward to seeing what Wade has made him, knowing his threat to make a sweater isn’t an idle one. He already has three of them hanging in their closet, warm and fuzzy and each of them more horrible than the last.
“Let’s go home,” Laura says as she settles securely behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes.
He starts the bike, waits for Gambit to pull up beside him, and then slowly starts out along the drive.
“Let’s go home,” he agrees.
*Watch me. She can keep running for all I care.
... Yeah, they still have some work to do.