Chapter Text
Three is the magic number! That’s what they say, at least. Wade hasn’t really seen proof of that in his life, and he doesn't know when that saying started, but that’s what they say.
Oh, wait, did he say he hasn’t seen proof of it in his life? His bad, he meant he used t o not see it in his life.
Because three months after getting proposed to, Wade is now fully able to talk about that shit. In fact, he’s kinda been talking non-stop about it. He’s like a fucking faucet, one that was frozen in the winter and then boom! Water all over your kitchen.
“I think we should break into the TVA and get that pervy tailor to do our suits.” Wade says to Logan over breakfast one day.
“You know what sounds so fucking cute? Mary as a flower girl.” Wade says while he and Logan are on a walk.
“Think Al would like it if I tell her she’s my Maid of Honor?” Wade says when Logan is trying to sleep.
He mentions the wedding currently to Logan, swinging his legs from his spot on top of their kitchen island, watching Logan make them dinner like the perfect housewife he is, tits and all.
“Consider this, Angel baby,” Wade starts, hands out in front of him as if showing a newspaper headliner. “Runaway wedding at a courthouse, and then the aforementioned runways are heading towards the X-Mansion for a bombing reception because we-“
“You.” Logan cuts in easily, not stopping flipping the steak he was cooking, as if he knows what Wade is about to say. That bitch.
“- I know some Richie Rich people there.”
“And when I said I wanted a small wedding?”
“The wedding is small. You, me, our kid, and a fourth person of your choosing- aren't I sweet? And then we can partayyyy.”
Logan hums. He takes a step back to open the oven, stepping in between Wade’s legs in doing so. Logan takes the fries out of the oven, ignoring the foot that Wade hooks around Logan’s hip, stepping out of his fiance’s reach once again. That bitch.
“Do me a favor, Princess,” Logan puts the tray of fries on the stove, moves the pan with the steaks onto a wooden tray next to Wade. He moves back into the space between Wade’s legs, facing him this time, a brow raised sarcastically. He puts his hands on Wade’s thighs, not quite holding him down, but letting Wade know that Logan wants him still. “Remind me, the last time I went to the mansion?”
“Oh.” It’s not that Wade forgot. How the fuck could he? He just didn’t connect them. He wasn’t thinking of the mansion as the place where Logan had the worst day of his fucking 207 years long life, or the place filled with Logan’s living ghosts. He was thinking of him managing to twist Colossus’ arm into twisting Chuck’s to let them use a bitchin’ garden that’s in the back that in the winter would make Elsa of Frozen fame feel like a little bitch, and how fucking beautiful Logan would look with the filtering of sunlight through the branches of the near forest that's around the school, reflecting on the snow, across his face.
“Still cute, though.” Logan presses a kiss to Wade’s forehead. “Sweet.”
Logan looks at him when he pulls back, soft and fond, and oh yeah, in love. Wade would feel a little bad about mentioning the mansion, but suddenly Wade is taken by the idea. Not even for their wedding reception, but for- shit. Logan’s general well being, or whatever.
I mean, come on, Wade thinks, placing a hand on Logan’s sexy ass sideburns. They’re mutants (however much Wade is, with what was his ‘dormant mutant genes’, no longer dormant they may be), half their friends live there, their daughter lives there. They- Logan- should be able to go there.
But beyond that. Wade wants- no, fuck that- Wade needs Logan to at least have this be easier for him, one fucking thing that doesn’t seem to drag him down.
Wade leans forward to kiss him. It’s soft, closed mouth, more to touch than anything. “What if,” Wade whispers against his mouth. “I make sure we don’t see anyone we don’t want. I’ll make sure of that, for you. We don’t go inside, just the backyard. Nothing bad happens in the backyard.”
Not necessarily true , but Wade has heard more about Last Night In Westchester. The attack was so quick, brutal, efficient, no one had managed to get out the backdoor, or any secret door. No one managed to get out the front, either- at least not whole.
“Wade…”
“Let me do something good for you, baby.” Wade kisses the corner of Logan’s mouth, his cheek, his forehead.
“I don’t…” Logan’s voice is unsure, his hands on Wade’s thighs flexing with hesitance.
“We’ll go slow. Gentle.” Wade coaxes. He knows what he sounds like, of course he does. He isn’t sure his methods would be therapist approved, but considering both of them are the poster boys for ‘fuck therapy’ he thinks its fine. No harm either way, right? Either this works, and Logan is able to fucking breath around Salem Center’s biggest eyesore, or Logan pinches Wade or something and tells him to fuck off. “You know I’d be good to you, don’t you, baby?”
Logan moves his head, dropping it to Wade’s shoulder. Wade moves his hands up Logan’s back. “I can’t, bub, I can’t.”
“I know you can. We’ll pick up Laura one day for dinner instead of just Dopinder. You’ll drop me off when I want to annoy Colossus and Negasonic. We’ll have Laura invite Sparkplug over for next game night.”
Logan shudders in Wade’s arms.
“And then we’ll have a cutesy wedding and go there have a fucking fantastic time, Peanut.”
“Yeah?” Logan’s voice is rough. Wade turns his head to softly kiss what he could, which was part of Logan’s hair.
“Yeah, Honey Badger, yeah.”
Logan picks his head up, barely, eyes wet. Logan cries more than one would think the Wolverine would. Sometimes it’s sweet. It’s not right now. It hurts, right now.”
“Okay.” Logan agrees, voice heavy with want, more than Wade thought could be carried with one word .
Okay .
So Operation: Stop the Mansion Trauma. Lets fucking go.
Wade does what he said he would do:
He makes Logan come with him when Dopinder drives to the mansion. His fiancé sits in the back, trying to nonchalantly look out the window opposite from the mansion, looking so casual and cool, except that his brow is furrowed so tight that it’s giving Wade a headache, and that Wade can see his claws just barely peeking out. They don't come back in, and Logan doesn't turn away and face Laura, until they’re back on the road.
He has Logan go drop him off when he wants to see their friends. Logan stays in the car, and Wade sinks to his knees on the gravel driveway in front of Logan’s door. He holds Logan’s face in his hands, making sure Logan can see him, alive and whole and in front of the mansion, before kissing him with all the care he can possibly give. Logan’s hands shake as he kisses Wade back.
He texts Mini to have her bring Jubilee around more, not forcing Logan to talk or even look at the kid- well, okay, sure, not a kid, she’s definitely in Laura’s age group, but Wade has issues thinking about his age so he’s not going to start thinking of his step-daughter and her gal pal as an adult. Fuck he’s getting old- but just has Logan get used to being around her more.
And they do this for months. Over and over and over, wash and repeat.
Wade stops seeing the claws in the car. Logan turns to Laura when they’re still in the driveway.
Logan is the one to kiss him goodbye, hands steady. He is able to get out of the car to do it.
Logan says something to Jubilee, the first time since he got here nearly a year and a half- the first time in nearly 20 years, really.
“Do you listen to the same stuff Laura does?” Logan asks in his usually gruffness, but almost vulnerable; asking with the same care someone would pick up a newborn.
Jubilee, either the curse or the gift of differentiating timelines and universes, is the same age in Wade’s world now in 2026, as she was when she died in 2006 in Logan’s. Wade watches Logan’s face tighten when Jubilee’s eyes widen, shocked at being spoken to by him, and then relaxes when she smiles.
Fucking win .
It’s the middle of summer, and Wade is sitting, shirtless and pantsless, in front of the admittedly shitty fan that's possibly dangerously plugged into their turducken of a outlet strip next to their bed. It’s hot as fucking balls out.
Logan, in a similar state of undress as Wade, crawls on his knees to Wade from behind, rudely pressing his hot body- in more ways than one!- against Wade’s, leaning over him. He doesn’t even put half his weight on Wade, but Wade pretends to sag as if he was getting crushed.
“Asshole.” Logan snorts. He nips at Wade’s ear.
“You love it, bitch.” Wade pushes back against Logan, but grabs Logan’s wrist and tugs it around himself first, to make sure Logan doesn’t actually pull away. The heat fucking sucks but Wade would rather gargle the Hulk’s balls than make Logan stop touching him.
They sit like that in relative silence, the only noise being the city below, the shitty fan, and Wade humming the theme song to a particular 1992-1997 animated series.
“We should pick out a wedding date, you know.” Logan murmurs. “Give the professor enough time to get used to us stealin’ his backyard.”
Wade whips around so fast that he slams his head against Logan’s by accident, causing a loud metallic sound to fill the apartment, and for a bruised lump to quickly appear and disappear on Wade’s forehead.
“Yeah?” Wade asks, smiling.
“Yeah, Wade, yeah.”