Good Morning, Logan (He Gets Kicked Out)
Beep! Beep! Beep! Logan woke with a groan, smashing his hand in the general direction of the nightstand until the horrid noise finally stopped. He rubbed his coarse stubble as a headache began trickling into the folds of his brain. He needed to get up and moving. This was the last day he was allowed in this apartment and he intended to vacate the premises completely before his roommate came home from his crappy third shift job.
Logan had been living with this guy (Adam?) for about three months and he (no.. Alex?) had quickly grown sick of Logan's shit. To be fair, he had lasted a month longer here at Daniel's (or Steve's?) than anywhere else. Whoever this guy actually was, he was nothing special, just some internet stranger offering a glorified broom closet for rent. The man's standards were so low that they were buried but apparently Logan was even lower of a man than that.
The Worst Wolverine's regrets hung around him like the stench of Jack Daniels on his breath and without fail always drove people away. Some folks took longer than others to push him out of their lives, but it was a universal truth that he was never welcome for long. Perhaps they could smell that he didn't belong here in this world, in this universe. He didn't belong anywhere, not anymore.
Logan made another noise of discontent, dragging his heavy body out of bed. He left it unmade - what-the-fuckface can deal with that himself. He looked left and caught his own tired eyes in the cracked mirror as he headed to the shower; he tried to muster a low growl but the reflection only peered back with blank disinterest. Logan faced his other self and frowned as he swiped a hand through his mess of hair, pausing to scowl at the persistent cowlicks. Kitty ears, Wade had called them. He took in the bold streaks of silver that followed the lower curve of his hair tufts (kitty ears). Ugh, 'm really going grey now, he thought. He was not just grey, but absolutely filthy as well - a generous sprinkling of drywall dust coated him from greasy mane to shoulders, sticking in his thick blanket of body hair. The day prior followed his usual circuit - a hard shift at a crappy temp labor job, several hours wasting away at the local dive, and a crash straight into his nest of a bed.
After a hasty rinse off Logan threw on some worn clothes and spent all of five minutes packing up a messenger bag. He had barely any items to his name so it was a simple enough task. Teeth were brushed, the bag was hefted onto his shoulder, jean pockets were checked for his needed papers, and he was on his way. He slammed the door behind him and knelt to unceremoniously toss the key under the door. No sense in being upset about it. Being kicked out was his status quo at this point.
It was a short trek to the bus station but an eternity in queue to exchange the voucher he received from the convention organizers. Fuckin' corpo events. Why don't they just mail a damn ticket? They wanted him of all people to be their big draw guest for the weekend. Or, maybe not all of him - they wanted the Wolverine. They wanted the fantastical hero. They wanted this world's Logan. Well, they would get what they would get and that was that. They were lucky that Logan was even attending; he wasn't going because he wanted to, that was for sure. They were paying him and he needed the cash.
He didn't notice the first request he received in the mail, simply tossing it into the trash pile on the kitchen table to be forgotten. He did take notice of the second request that came a few weeks later: 'SERIOUS OFFER, FINAL NOTICE.' Even in his apathy, the bright bold red text on the envelope did make him a bit curious.
Logan tore open the envelope and scoffed at the colorful event logo. The pay noted beneath it, however, was a much larger sum than he had expected. Must be real desperate. But even he had to admit that the pay was good. At the very least, it would keep a roof over his head for a little while.. or buy a lot of booze. Supposedly all that he had to do was show up, answer some shitty questions, and make a face next to some greasy dorks. Should be simple enough, right? Easy money.
Logan remembered when Wade informed him about the existence of these conventions and had even successfully dragged him to a few. He wondered what Wade would have to say about him going to an event willingly by himself, or if he would believe it in the first place. It was difficult to accept that either of them even had fans - he wasn't the Logan that everyone remembered so fondly, he was the Worst Wolverine, and Wade was.. Wade. Despite all of their (many) faults this world had learned about their world-saving adventure and decided to look up to them. "They're used to multiverse shenanigans involving heroes," Wade had said. "Heroes?” Logan questioned, quirking a brow, not even meaning to speak it out loud. “Yeah, buddy, you saved the world once. Should be a piece of cake for us to do it again, especially when I have a hot piece of ass to follow into certain doom! ;3"
Logan waved away Imaginary Deadpool's voice like he would an errant fly. It had been three fucking years already, could he please stop thinking about Wade fucking Wilson?! Shit.
Eternities do eventually come to an end, as it turns out, because Logan was finally able to claim his pass and climb aboard the bus. The whole vehicle carried the delightful public transport bouquet of spilled gas, spilled drinks, and spilled bodily fluids. It stung his over-sensitive nose but it would have to do, as he wasn't about to waste his own scant amount of cash on a different ride. He settled into his stained seat, grumbling.
Logan rubbed at his crown and tilted his head to rest his temple on the cool, frosty window. He knew that once the bus started to move the vibration would resonate through his metallic skull, but the sharp cold of the glass was easing his headache in the meantime just enough to be worth that risk. If there was any good grace left in this god-forsaken world, then this trip would be quiet and quick, and at least for a short period of time he could forget all about his failings and the convention and -
"Is this seat taken?"
Ugh. "Yeah, whatever, bub, just don't talk and we'll get along just fine," Logan grunted, never lifting his eyelids. "And if you wake me up, I'll fuckin' kill you."
𝌀🚌𝌀🚌𝌀🚌𝌀🚌𝌀🚌𝌀
"Did you hear about Logan?" Laura asked around an impressive mouthful of Lucky Charms.
Wade dropped his spoon as he choked on an equally impressive bite of cereal. Milk sprayed across the table and colorful marshmallows were shot across the room as Wade flailed and punched his chest. He struggled for a long minute before finally recovering. "Oh," he gulped, "thank god I took that mommy and me CPR class."
Laura crunched away, unphased. "I said, Logan, did you hear about him?"
Wade spread his arms dramatically, still coughing. "I just spat breakfast everywhere, clearly not!"
"Aren't you even interested?"
"I don't need another mugshot for my pinup wall, okay."
Laura rolled her eyes. "No, he didn't get arrested this time."
Wade leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, crowding into her space. "Spill it now, or I'm cutting your allowance."
"I'm twenty-four. And you've never given me an allowance."
"Fine, then I'll take the Lucky Charms away."
"There's like fifteen students living here, we have a whole section of the pantry dedicated to sugary cereals. Plus, I was going to tell you anyway, chill out." Laura twirled her spoon. "I saw online that he's guesting at Big City this weekend."
“If you're fucking with me, I’m writing you out of the will!”
"You don't own anything, Wade," Laura countered, her brows knitting.
"So, if this isn't an elaborate scheme to steal the heart of Mary Puppins, you really don't have a reason to lie to me." The mercenary sat back, balancing the chair precariously on two legs. "Interesting," he said, rubbing his milk soaked chin.
"What, are you thinking about going? Aren't you, like, totally banned?"
An impish grin spread across Wade's scarred face. "Oh, yeah. Ohhh yeah. I'm going anyway, though."
Laura rolled her eyes again and lifted the bowl to drain the last bit of milk. "Well," she smacked her lips as she stood, "good luck." She rinsed her dishware and left the room with a smirk and a half-wave in Wade's direction, leaving him alone with his dozens of spilled marshmallow bits. He would need to clean them up soon, as this wasn't his kitchen where he could trust Mary Puppins to vacuum them up in record time, but there were far more pressing matters on his mind.
After his kitty cat had run away Wade had only seen him around a few times in passing, though Logan didn't know that. Wade had not lain eyes upon his ruggedly beautiful visage in at least a year or two. Logan had hopped on that last bus and out of Wade's life completely, and what could he do about that but learn how to live with it? It's always so difficult to train stray cats when they've been outdoor-only for so long.
Wade didn't like it, of course not. He thought that what they had was special - the two were not soulmates, not necessarily, but they matched each other's freak for sure. They had spent so much time together that life had almost begun to feel domestic. Of course Wade had fallen for the guy, how could he not? But clearly his feelings were not reciprocated so he had to let it go, had to let him go.
He only took it mostly personally. That was not his first breakup, if you could even call it that when he wasn't even loved back, but it was his last to date.
Wade merely hoped that Logan was comfortable now, or that he had at least gotten a slight hold on himself.
The idea of Logan willingly guesting at a con was hilariously delicious. It truly had to be seen to be believed. Now knowing exactly where Logan was headed, this was Wade's chance to make sure that he wasn't wallowing in too much self-pity. Determination set in his eyes. He didn't need to bring his kitty cat home - he just wanted to pet him a bit and maybe get scratched - if he was lucky.