The world had ended. Or at least, that’s what the media and the people on the ground thought when the catastrophic event took place. But Deadpool—Wade Wilson—and Wolverine—Logan—hadn't just stopped it. They’d obliterated it. Or at least, that’s what Deadpool kept telling everyone. Truth be told, they’d just barely scraped by, bloodied, bruised, and barely conscious by the time the dust had settled.
Now, here they were, in a modest cabin on the outskirts of nowhere. Somewhere that was supposed to be quiet, isolated, far from the prying eyes of the world that was still figuring out what to do with the aftermath of the event they'd prevented—or made worse, depending on who you asked.
Wade had called it a "victory vacation." Logan wasn’t so sure about that, but he'd reluctantly agreed. The real reason, though, wasn’t so much the peace and quiet (they both knew that wasn’t going to happen), but because Wade had made a deal. “We save the world, we get to relax. A little R&R, a little bonding time.”
Bonding time? Logan rolled his eyes. Yeah, sure. He'd seen Wade’s "bonding" moments. He never knew whether to strangle him or laugh. Sometimes, it was both.
“Damn it, Wade,” Logan muttered, pacing in the kitchen. "You can’t just leave your clothes lying around like this."
Wade, lounging on the couch with a chimichanga in hand, gave him a lazy grin. "But I can, buddy. I just did."
Logan picked up a pair of Wade’s boots—completely mismatched, of course—and tossed them in the corner. "What the hell’s with the shoes?"
Wade’s eyes twinkled. "They’re an expression of my individuality. Why do you care? You can’t even see my feet when you’re brooding in the corner."
Logan scowled. He didn’t get it. Wade’s chaos, his irreverence, his constant jabbering... everything about him was an enigma. And it made Logan uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’d been alone for so long, a solitary man carrying the weight of centuries, and here was this... this ball of insanity, doing his best to break down every wall Logan had built.
But the walls were still there. So far, they'd never come down.
Wade popped another chimichanga into his mouth, watching Logan’s brooding figure from the couch. "You know, if you wanted me to wash your clothes, you could have just asked. No need to pretend like you're 'the boss' of this cabin."
Logan froze, hands on the counter, glaring at the younger man.
Wade leaned forward, grinning. "Oh, come on, tough guy. You know you’re secretly enjoying this. Look at you. You could never admit it, but—" He was cut off by Logan’s glare.
“Enjoying what?” Logan growled. “I’m just trying to keep the place from looking like a damn junkyard.”
"Yeah, sure, a junkyard," Wade teased. "You’re more like the grumpy uncle trying to clean up after the wild nephew."
Logan was about to respond when there was a knock at the door. Wade leapt up in a single fluid motion, his usual playful demeanour returning in full force. "Oh, look! A visitor. Wonder who it is. Maybe it's a fan who wants a picture with their favourite anti-heroes."
Logan’s eyes narrowed. "You didn’t invite anyone, did you?"
Wade shrugged, already opening the door. "Nope. But who knows? Maybe someone wants to come by and, I don’t know, help us with our world-saving downtime."
At the door stood... no one. Just a small box sitting on the doorstep.
Logan raised an eyebrow. "What the hell?"
Wade bent down, picking up the box and tearing into it. "Ah! A gift. From the universe. Or maybe one of our many enemies." Inside, there was a single note:
"I didn’t think you two would actually survive. But I guess you did. So, here's something to help you survive each other. Best of luck. ~X"
Wade tossed the note aside and opened the box to find two bottles of expensive whiskey, a box of cigars, and what looked like a hand-painted picture of a smiling Deadpool and Wolverine in some sort of romantic embrace. The sight made Wade burst out laughing.
"Logan, buddy, someone has a wicked sense of humour."
Logan, still standing in the doorway, looked at the picture and then back at Wade. He didn’t know whether to laugh or punch someone. He didn’t know why, but the idea of the two of them—together in any sense of the word—was... unsettling.
"What the hell is that?" he muttered.
Wade, still laughing, held up the picture. "This, my friend, is your future. Just wait. We’re gonna be the hottest couple in the mutant world. I can see it now. 'Deadpool and Wolverine: The Bromance That Saved the World.'"
Logan’s eyes narrowed even further. "You’re out of your mind."
Wade winked. "You know it, Bub."
***
Days turned into weeks. The isolation had its ups and downs. Sometimes Wade’s nonstop chatter grated on Logan’s nerves, and other times, Logan would catch himself actually enjoying their conversations—discussions about everything from movies to the absurdity of their lives to Wade’s ridiculous thoughts on their "relationship."
It wasn’t that Logan didn’t enjoy the occasional camaraderie. He’d always been a lone wolf, but the past few years had started to chip away at that solitude. There was something undeniably magnetic about Wade. His energy was contagious, his humour was dark but infectious, and despite his obnoxiousness, there was a depth to him that Logan couldn’t quite ignore.
One evening, Logan sat on the porch, his claws clicking against the wood as he cleaned them. The sun was dipping below the horizon, and the quiet of the wilderness surrounded them. Wade appeared beside him, sitting down without asking. He held out a bottle of whiskey.
"To saving the world," Wade said, a grin on his face.
Logan took the bottle, unscrewing the cap. "And to surviving each other."
Wade let out a short laugh. "We’re like an old married couple."
Logan took a swig from the bottle, eyeing Wade. "That’s the last thing I’d call us."
"Oh, sure," Wade said, leaning back on his elbows. "Just because we don’t hold hands or, like, make it official doesn’t mean we’re not a couple. You’re my work husband, Logan."
Logan rolled his eyes, finishing the whiskey in one long gulp. "You’ve got a weird way of looking at things, Wade."
Wade turned to him, suddenly serious. "Hey, don’t get me wrong, I know you’re all ‘grumpy loner Wolverine’ and everything, but maybe... just maybe... we could make this work. You know. After everything we’ve been through."
Logan’s heart skipped a beat, but he quickly shoved the feeling aside. "We’ve been through hell. Doesn’t mean I’m ready to live with a freak like you."
Wade chuckled, a soft, sincere smile tugging at his lips. "We’re all a little freaky, Logan. Especially you and me. You know, I don’t always know what’s going on with us... but I do know I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we saved the world together. And I’m glad you didn’t leave me behind. Not that I’d let you."
Logan didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead, he just grunted. "You don’t know when to shut up."
Wade laughed. "You love me, you know."
Logan didn’t answer. But as he sat next to the man who had become so much more than just an annoying partner, he wondered, for the first time in a long while, if there might be something more to their bond than just shared chaos.
***
The days had a rhythm to them now. A strange, unpredictable rhythm, but a rhythm nonetheless. Wade would wake up at the crack of dawn, as always, doing something ridiculous like pretending to be a superhero in a cereal box costume or practicing his sword-fighting techniques in the backyard (which often ended with him stabbing a tree and cackling at his own ridiculousness). Logan, on the other hand, was up early for his own routine—working out, keeping his body sharp, and trying not to acknowledge that a part of him had started to look forward to these moments of stillness and simplicity.
It was the quiet moments between the madness that Logan had begun to appreciate. But there were still plenty of moments that made him want to take his claws to Wade’s throat. Like when Wade walked into the cabin one morning wearing a full-on "Wolverine" costume, claws extended, complete with a ridiculously fake moustache.
"Look at me, Logan!" Wade grinned from ear to ear. "I'm you! Only better! And with way more charm!"
Logan didn’t even look up from his cup of coffee. "You know, you’re the reason I’m tempted to get drunk before breakfast."
Wade spun around, slashing at the air with his fake claws. "Look, I’m you—except with the ability to be likable!"
Logan took a long sip from his mug. "You’re a pain in the ass."
"Oh, come on, that’s the Wolverine I know and love!" Wade dropped the charade and flopped down onto the couch, pulling his mask off and tossing it on the coffee table. "But seriously, don’t you ever get bored of being so serious all the time?"
Logan set the mug down and leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze still piercing. "I get bored of your face all the time, but I deal with it."
Wade’s eyes glinted with mischievous excitement. "Yeah, but here’s the thing, Logan: You’ve been dealing with it for weeks now. And you know what? I think that means we’re getting to the ‘I actually enjoy having you around’ stage. I’m like a permanent infection you can’t get rid of."
Logan grunted. "You’ve got a big ego for someone who can’t even sit still for five minutes."
Wade raised a hand dramatically. "I have to stay moving to keep the craziness in check. You know what it’s like, buddy. You’ve got those primal instincts, that rage… sometimes you gotta let it loose in small doses so it doesn’t boil over."
Logan wasn’t sure why Wade was saying this. Maybe he’d had one too many chimichangas that morning, but something about the way Wade was talking felt… different. Less like the usual banter and more like an unspoken truth that they’d both been avoiding.
Wade shifted, sitting upright and looking at Logan more seriously than usual. "Look, I get it. You’re used to being alone. But you’re not really alone anymore. And I think you’re starting to realise that."
Logan frowned, irritated. "You’re full of shit, Wade."
But even as he said it, he felt a flicker of unease in his chest. Maybe Wade was right. Maybe he was starting to get used to having Wade around. Maybe it was more than just the mission they’d completed together. They were two damaged people who’d somehow survived impossible odds, and now here they were, stuck together.
Wade stood up, pushing his mask into the back pocket of his jeans. "I don’t know, man. Maybe we both need to stop pretending like everything’s fine." His tone was still light, but there was something else behind it. Something Logan couldn’t quite place.
"I don’t need anything from you, Wade." Logan said it quickly, but it felt like a defence mechanism. He wasn’t sure why he felt defensive; it wasn’t like Wade had done anything overtly offensive. But there was that weird pressure in the air, the kind of pressure you feel when you know something’s coming but you don’t know how to react to it.
Wade, sensing the shift, let out a dramatic sigh. "You’re a tough nut to crack, aren’t you?"
Logan didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. They both knew the truth. He was a closed-off, guarded person, and Wade’s chaotic personality didn’t make it easy to let down those walls. But Wade was relentless, and somehow, in all the madness, he’d slipped past Logan’s defences in ways that no one else ever had.
The silence between them stretched on, thick with unspoken words.
Wade broke it first. "Fine, fine, I get it. We’ll keep pretending to be all broody and ‘I don’t need anyone,’ but deep down, I know the truth." He grinned, turning to grab a bottle of whiskey from the counter. "You need me. Admit it, Logan."
Logan was about to snark back, but something in Wade’s face made him hesitate. Maybe it was the way Wade was looking at him, not like the annoying pest he always acted like, but something else—something more understanding.
"I don’t need anyone," Logan muttered under his breath, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.
Wade raised an eyebrow as he poured them both a glass. "You sure about that?"
Before Logan could answer, there was a knock at the door. They both turned toward it, but Logan’s stomach churned with the sudden interruption. Wade, as always, was quick to answer, swinging the door wide open with a dramatic flourish.
Standing there was an old friend—or, more accurately, a very familiar enemy.
"Well, well, if it isn’t the dynamic duo," said a voice Logan hadn’t heard in years.
Logan’s heart skipped a beat. "Sabretooth," he growled, standing to his feet.
Wade glanced over his shoulder at Logan, then back at Sabretooth with a broad grin. "Look at that! The gang’s all here. This really is turning into a fun little vacation."
Sabretooth grinned back, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Vacation? I’d say it’s more of a reunion."
Wade stepped aside, gesturing for Sabretooth to come in. "Well, don’t just stand there, big guy. We’ve got whiskey and cigars. We might even be able to make this a ‘mutant therapy session.’"
Logan was already on alert. Sabretooth hadn’t just shown up by chance. There was always something more with him—always some agenda, some underlying reason for his visits. But what was he really after?
Wade, of course, didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. "I’m betting you’re here for a rematch. You and Logan had one hell of a fight last time, didn’t you? Not that you stood a chance against the Wolverine."
Sabretooth growled, but Logan cut in before anything escalated. "What do you want, Victor?"
Sabretooth’s grin faded into something more serious. "You’re not the only one who’s been through hell, Logan. I came for a reason. And it’s not just to fight."
Wade, in typical fashion, made a show of leaning against the counter, cracking his knuckles. "If it’s to give us a dramatic speech about your tortured soul, I’m gonna have to pass. But if it’s about saving the world again, count me in."
Logan’s muscles tensed, but he stayed silent. Whatever Sabretooth’s reasons were, he knew they weren’t good.
But then Sabretooth’s expression softened—just a bit—before he said something that caught Logan off guard.
"I came to talk. To both of you."
Logan exchanged a glance with Wade. The world had never been this strange. Not even close.
The conversation that followed was... unexpected. Sabretooth, despite his usual arrogance and cruelty, began to share a side of himself Logan had never seen. The mutant world was changing. Old alliances were fracturing. Even Sabretooth, with all his faults, was starting to understand that the old ways of fighting were no longer enough.
As the night wore on, with whiskey flowing freely and the atmosphere surprisingly lighthearted despite the unexpected guest, Logan couldn’t deny that something was changing. Maybe it was the world around them—or maybe, just maybe, it was the man sitting across from him. Wade had a way of making things feel different. Of making him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he thought.
***
Logan stood by the door, hands shoved into his pockets, glancing out at the dark woods. The cabin was oddly peaceful. Even with Wade in the next room, there was an almost calming silence about the place—at least for now.
Wade, of course, wasn’t making it easy. The guy never stopped moving. From the moment Logan had stepped outside, Wade had been chatting with Sabretooth like they were long-lost friends. And Sabretooth—Logan’s old rival—was actually listening. Logan couldn’t help but feel like he was watching an absurd, yet strangely comforting, spectacle unfold in front of him.
He glanced back toward the kitchen, where Wade was cleaning up after whatever mess he’d made earlier—empty bottles, half-eaten food, and a trail of mismatched clothes. The usual chaos.
There was a softness in Wade’s movements now, something less manic, more… tender, if that was even possible for someone like him. Logan wasn’t used to seeing this side of the mercenary—Wade caring, at least in his weird, twisted way.
Logan cleared his throat, drawing Wade’s attention.
"Need some help?" Logan asked, his voice rougher than he intended. It wasn’t an offer to actually help clean—it was more of a way to break the silence, to stop thinking about how much he didn’t want to deal with everything floating in his head.
Wade, however, grinned mischievously. "Oh, you’re just here to critique my housekeeping skills? I didn’t realise I’d signed up for a home inspection today, Logan. You’d think a guy who lived in a basement for a while would be better at organising. But hey, I make messes with style."
Logan snorted, shaking his head. "You make chaos with style."
Wade stuck his tongue out at Logan, his playful mood infectious, but there was still a heaviness in the air. Wade was trying to lighten the mood, but something in the way he was looking at Logan told a different story. It was that moment of quiet vulnerability he had shown earlier, the one Logan wasn’t sure how to process.
"Logan, you know I’m not really much for heart-to-hearts," Wade said, glancing over his shoulder, his voice suddenly quieter. "But you can talk to me when you’re ready. I get it. You’ve been through a lot. We both have."
Logan didn’t respond right away. His throat tightened. He wasn’t used to hearing Wade speak this seriously. It was jarring—and, if he was being honest, a little comforting.
"Yeah, well," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low, "it’s a lot to process."
Wade’s expression softened, and for a moment, the mercenary seemed genuinely concerned. "Yeah, I know." He set down the dirty plate he’d been scrubbing and faced Logan fully. "But you don’t have to do it alone. I mean, I’m here… even if I’m the last person you want around."
Logan met his gaze, and for a second, he couldn’t find the words. It was easier to ignore the emotion bubbling up inside, easier to bury it down deep. But maybe, just maybe, Wade was right. Maybe he didn’t have to keep all of it locked away forever.
Wade, seeing the hesitation, threw in one of his classic smirks. "Okay, okay, enough with the brooding. I get it. You're tough, you can handle anything. Just… if you ever need a laugh—or to throw me into a vat of toxic waste again—just let me know."
Logan let out a reluctant chuckle, feeling the weight in his chest loosen just a little. "You’re a pain in the ass, Wade."
"And you love me for it," Wade quipped, winking.
It wasn’t the most profound exchange, but it was enough. Logan didn’t need all the answers. Maybe, just maybe, he could start letting go of some of the walls he’d spent decades building.
***
The days that followed felt strangely comfortable in a way Logan wasn’t used to. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being off-balance, but it wasn’t the typical feeling of dread or anger. It was something different. Something unsettling in its own way.
Wade had been his usual chaotic self, of course. He’d managed to convince Logan to join him for a ‘training session’ in the yard, which quickly devolved into a full-on paintball war, complete with Wade wearing a banana suit and giving Logan unsolicited “motivational” speeches. Still, it was hard not to appreciate the absurdity of it all.
The bigger surprise, though, was how much time they started spending together outside of their usual mission debriefs or, more recently, trying to survive various threats.
Wade would talk. A lot. About anything and everything: the latest pop culture reference, some obscure comic book character, or his latest attempt to get Logan to join him in some wild stunt. But every so often, when the conversation would lull, Wade would do something unexpected—like leave a sandwich out on the counter for Logan, or let him have the last can of soda, or just sit with him quietly, sharing the space in a way that Logan didn’t know how to categorise.
It was the silence that got to him. Wade could talk endlessly, but sometimes, when he wasn’t running his mouth, there was a gentleness in his presence that Logan couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t like anything Logan had ever experienced before. In a way, it felt… real. And for someone who had spent a century dodging real connections, that terrified him.
It was the night of a heavy rainstorm that it all came to a head.
The storm had come out of nowhere, clouds rolling in so fast that the wind picked up, howling like a warning. Logan could feel it in the air. It was the kind of storm that made his bones ache, a sure sign of the sort of thing that made a man want to stay indoors.
Wade, though, didn’t seem to mind the thunder crashing against the roof. He was sprawled out on the couch with a blanket over him, half-watching some old action flick, and half making sarcastic comments to no one in particular.
Logan had decided to hang back and stare at the rain outside. He wasn’t one to do much during storms; they always brought back memories of other, darker times. But tonight was different. He was different.
Wade’s voice drifted over, playful and familiar. "You know, I’m really starting to think that your whole ‘brooding loner’ act is just that. A very convincing act."
Logan turned toward him, scowling. "What do you mean?"
Wade tossed a popcorn kernel at him. "I mean, you're not fooling anyone. You might pretend to be all angry and alone, but I can see it. You're tough, sure, but you’ve got a big heart hidden somewhere under that old leather jacket of yours. It’s just—" Wade paused, blinking rapidly as if the gravity of what he was saying just hit him. "It’s just buried under a lot of sarcastic one-liners and gruffness."
Logan snorted, trying to dismiss it. "You’re full of crap."
Wade wasn’t backing down, though. "Maybe. But I’ve been through the same thing. Lost people. Made bad decisions. Hell, I’ve tried to kill you a couple of times. But you know what? You still keep going. That’s not just a guy who’s fine with being alone. That’s a guy who cares and is scared to show it."
Logan was silent for a moment, then finally sighed, sitting down on the chair across from Wade. He didn’t know how to respond to that, or if he even wanted to.
Wade didn’t give him a chance to come up with something witty. Instead, he lowered his voice, looking more serious than Logan had ever seen him. "Look, Logan, I’m not saying we’re all going to start sitting around the campfire singing kumbaya, but if you ever need to just... talk, I’m here. I mean it. I’ve got a lot of bad jokes to make it easier, but I can listen, too."
The sincerity in his voice struck Logan hard. For a moment, all the walls he’d spent years building seemed fragile, about to crumble under Wade’s honesty.
"I don’t need to talk about it," Logan said, his voice gruff, but not unkind. "Not yet."
Wade nodded, but the smile that followed was one of understanding. "I get it. But when you’re ready, I’ll be here. You don’t have to face everything alone, Logan. Not anymore."
Logan didn’t know how to answer that, so instead, he just nodded. And for once, that was enough.
***
The days that followed weren’t easy, but something had shifted. Logan didn’t exactly know what it was, but he knew it was there. Every time Wade cracked a joke or made one of his absurd faces, Logan found himself… less irritated. More… comfortable, even.
It was small things—like the way Wade would suddenly go quiet when Logan looked too deep in thought, or how he’d leave the last piece of pizza for him, even though he was definitely planning on eating it.
Things were changing. And for the first time in years, Logan wasn’t sure if that was a good thing... or if it was exactly what he needed.
The next morning, the storm had passed, leaving the world outside glistening with fresh rain. The air smelled crisp, the kind of clean scent that only followed a downpour. Inside the cabin, things had returned to normal—well, as normal as things could get when Wade was around.
Logan was at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee and brooding (as per usual). Wade was sprawled out on the couch, flipping through random TV channels like it was a competitive sport.
"Hey, I just thought of something," Wade said, suddenly sitting up. "How much money do you think we’d make if we started an Instagram account? I mean, look at us—we’re a dynamic duo! You’ve got the brooding, I’ve got the charm. You’ve got the claws, I’ve got the… well, everything else."
Logan looked over at Wade, raising an eyebrow. "You want to make money off of Instagram? Seriously?"
Wade waved a hand dismissively. "What can I say? The world’s obsessed with us. Why not make a profit?" He leaned back dramatically, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "We could do photoshoots in weird costumes, share workout routines, and maybe—just maybe—become influencers. Get sponsored by a mutant-friendly energy drink. ‘Wolverine Power: Now With 10% More Rage!’"
Logan rolled his eyes. "You’ve lost it."
Wade’s grin widened. "Not quite. You just don’t see the vision. Trust me, Logan. I know marketing."
Logan chuckled despite himself. "If you ever get the idea to start a blog on ‘How to Annoy Your Friends 101,’ let me know. You’ll have a lifetime of material."
But despite the banter, Logan could feel something shift between them as the days passed. Wade didn’t just annoy him anymore. In fact, sometimes Logan actually looked forward to his presence—the absurdity, the jokes, the chaos. It was becoming less of an annoyance and more of a… comfort? No, he thought, shaking his head. This can’t be happening.
***
It was on an afternoon a few days later when Logan realised things had changed. They’d been fighting together—side by side, like always—taking down a rogue band of mercenaries who’d tried to shake down a local village. Logan was exhausted, his body bruised, his mind too tired to focus. Wade, of course, was running around like a maniac, still somehow full of energy despite everything. The fight ended, the bad guys were neutralised, and they were both covered in dirt, blood, and sweat.
They made their way back to the cabin, Logan’s muscles aching with every step. Wade, as usual, was in better spirits, chattering about how his "knee-slapper of a joke" had totally distracted the leader of the mercenaries, causing him to accidentally shoot his own foot off.
"You have a talent for causing chaos," Logan said with a small smile, the first in a while.
Wade grinned, wiping his sword clean on a nearby bush. "And you have a talent for brooding while you're covered in your own blood. It’s like you’re an artist of the brooding genre. I should start taking notes."
Logan rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Wade."
They finally made it back to the cabin, both of them dripping wet from the rain that had started up again. They were quiet as they entered, neither of them saying anything for a long moment.
Logan headed straight for the bathroom, but Wade stopped him just before he could walk inside.
"Hey," Wade said, his voice serious for once, not his usual joking self.
Logan turned to face him. "What?"
Wade hesitated for a second, his eyes flicking nervously. "I know things have been weird between us," he said, his tone quieter than usual. "And I don’t know what to make of it either, but… I don’t want things to go back to how they were. I’m just sayin’, it feels different."
Logan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "What exactly are you getting at?"
Wade shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy. But I don’t think I’m the only one feeling it. It’s like we’re starting to… I don’t know… care more about each other. Or, at least, I do." He paused, his expression softening. "And I’m not asking for a life-altering decision or anything. I just wanted you to know that I…I don’t want you to go."
Logan’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow. The words hung in the air like something both fragile and impossible to ignore. Logan could feel his own vulnerability tugging at him.
"Wade… you talk too much."
Wade chuckled nervously. "I know. I’m good at it, though."
But there was an underlying sincerity in his eyes that made Logan hesitate. He had spent so long running from connections, from caring about anyone, that it was hard for him to even process what was happening. But here was Wade, standing in front of him, not in full Deadpool mode but… himself. Vulnerable, honest, and saying things that made Logan’s chest tighten.
Logan swallowed hard. "You really want me to stay?"
Wade looked at him, his eyes wide and open, no mask, no sarcasm. "I do. Even if I’m annoying. Even if I make things awkward. I’d rather have you here than out there somewhere alone. Even if we just… figure this out together, you know?"
Logan didn’t have a response. He didn’t need words. He just pulled Wade into a quick, unexpected hug, and for the first time in years, he didn’t feel the urge to push someone away.
***
It wasn’t an immediate declaration of love. Not yet. But something had shifted between them. They didn’t need to say everything right away. The moments between them felt deeper now, more intentional. They spent more time together without the usual awkwardness or barriers. They sparred in the yard like old friends, sharing moments of laughter and silence.
But as the days passed, Logan realised that he’d come to depend on Wade in ways he hadn’t expected. Wade, too, had started to dial back the antics—just enough to let Logan breathe and not feel constantly overwhelmed. Instead, they found themselves in these moments of quiet connection—sitting together on the porch, watching the sunset, or just talking about their pasts, their regrets, and what little hope they still clung to.
***
One evening, after another quiet dinner, they found themselves sitting outside on the porch as the moon rose high. The night was calm, the stars bright in the sky.
"Do you ever think about the future?" Wade asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Logan looked at him, his brow furrowing slightly. "Not really. I’ve had enough of the future to last a lifetime."
Wade nodded slowly, his gaze drifting out into the night. "Yeah, me too. But sometimes… I wonder what we’d be like, you know, if we just… lived." He turned to face Logan, his eyes searching. "Not for the mission. Not for the next fight. Just for us."
Logan’s heart raced. The simplicity of it—the idea of just living—was so foreign, so impossible, that it made his chest tighten.
"You’re asking me to care about something… I don’t know if I can," Logan admitted softly.
Wade didn’t flinch. "I’m not asking you to change, Logan. I’m asking you to let me in. Let us be something real. Because I think… I think we can have that."
Logan’s voice was barely a whisper. "I don’t know how to love anyone, Wade. Not anymore."
Wade leaned forward, his voice steady. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere."
Logan closed his eyes, the words cutting through him. He didn’t have the answers. But for once, maybe he didn’t need them. All he needed was to take that first step.
He reached out, gently taking Wade’s hand in his. The touch was small, uncertain at first, but when Wade squeezed back, Logan knew something had changed.
"I’m not perfect," Logan said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I’m here. And I’m willing to try."
Wade’s grin was wide and genuine. "That’s all I need, Logan. All I ever needed."
And in that moment, with the weight of their pasts lingering between them, they finally allowed themselves to believe in something more—something that wasn’t just about survival, but about living. Together.
Days turned into weeks, and the distance between them continued to shrink. Logan and Wade spent their time hunting down the occasional bad guy, but their bond was no longer defined by chaos.
It was defined by care—quiet moments of laughter, shared meals, and the comfort of having someone beside them who got it.
One night, after another long day, they found themselves sitting side by side on the couch, the weight of the world still heavy on their shoulders but somehow easier to bear with each other there.
Wade leaned his head against Logan’s shoulder, a playful smile on his face. "You know, Logan, I’ve been thinking… maybe I should really write that How to Annoy Your Friends blog. You’d be my first subscriber."
Logan chuckled softly, his hand resting on Wade’s knee. "You’d probably make a fortune."
Wade smirked. "Hell yeah, we’d be rich and retire in style." Then, his grin faded slightly, and his voice softened. "But seriously… I’m glad we’re doing this. You and me. I know it’s not easy, but I think… I think we can make it work."
Logan looked down at him, his expression serious. "Yeah. We will. Together."
And that was enough for both of them. They didn’t need grand gestures or declarations. They just needed each other. And for the first time in his life, Logan allowed himself to believe in that.
For once, he didn’t have to face the world alone.
***
Logan woke up to the sound of rain. It was a familiar sound, comforting and rhythmic, like a lullaby for people who didn’t sleep much anyway. His eyes flickered open, and for a moment, everything felt normal—no world-ending catastrophes, no enemies lurking in the shadows. Just the quiet morning light filtering through the small windows of their cabin. The weight of Wade’s arm draped across his chest, however, was a reminder that things were anything but normal.
Well, whatever ‘normal’ is anymore, Logan thought, glancing down at Wade, who was still fast asleep. There was a softness to the mercenary’s face now, an expression that was rarely seen when Wade was awake, or when he was being Wade. But here, like this, it was different. Wade was vulnerable, relaxed—human.
It wasn’t something Logan had anticipated—feeling so… comfortable, so settled. In the past, if someone had told him he’d wake up next to Wade Wilson, he might’ve laughed. Or punched them. But now?
Well, now he didn’t mind it as much.
He could hear the faint sound of Wade muttering in his sleep, a random jumble of words that didn’t make much sense. “I swear if I see that squirrel again, I’m suing...” Wade’s lips quirked up in a small smile, clearly lost in a dream world of his own making.
Logan shifted a little, trying not to disturb him too much. He wasn’t used to lying still like this, especially not with another person. But Wade’s presence, warm and oddly comforting, kept him in place. There was a weird kind of peace in the chaos that Wade brought. Something about it felt... right.
I’m not used to this, Logan thought again, his hand resting on the side of the bed. He wasn’t sure what he was used to anymore, and that scared him. But he wasn’t running. Not this time.
His thoughts were interrupted when Wade mumbled again, louder this time.
“Logan,” Wade grunted, sounding like he was half awake, half in a dream. “You’re not… you’re not gonna go anywhere, are you?”
Logan blinked, glancing down at Wade. He could hear the quiet vulnerability in the merc’s voice, the crack in his usual bravado. It was rare. Wade wasn’t one to show weakness, not often. And certainly not to Logan. But in moments like this, in the quiet, after a long day of battling enemies and emotional walls, that’s when Wade let the mask slip—just a little.
Logan’s heart gave a strange thump in his chest.
“You’re not getting rid of me, Wade,” Logan muttered, his voice gruff, but the words were there—unspoken feelings buried beneath years of walls. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Wade’s eyes fluttered open slowly, still bleary with sleep. His face broke into a sleepy grin that was equal parts mischievous and soft. “Good,” he mumbled. “’Cause I’m kinda growing attached to you. And I don’t mean your grumpy face... although, it's kind of adorable.”
Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a warmth in his chest that made him feel lighter than he had in a long time. It was the oddest thing—this relationship, whatever it was, had become something that wasn’t just about surviving. It wasn’t about fighting battles or taking down enemies. It was about two people who had been broken in their own ways finding something in each other that they didn’t even know they were looking for.
He let out a low chuckle. “You’re full of crap, Wade.”
Wade sat up, rubbing his eyes with exaggerated motions. “That’s what I keep telling you.” He reached out for the coffee cup on the nightstand, still half asleep. “But you love me anyway.”
Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied Wade as he sipped his coffee, his messy hair falling into his eyes, his tired grin just barely hiding the exhaustion from the previous days. There was something oddly… domestic about this whole situation, and that terrified him.
Wade caught his gaze and, for a moment, the usual sarcasm seemed to melt away. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now, “are you sure you’re okay with all this? I know I’m a handful...”
Logan let out a heavy sigh, stretching as he propped himself up on one elbow. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he grumbled, but it was softer than usual. There was no anger behind the words—just honesty.
Wade snorted, taking another sip. “True. But you love me. Don’t lie,” he teased, nudging Logan’s shoulder with his own.
Logan didn’t pull away this time, though. He stayed there, staring at Wade, at the undeniable connection they’d built over the past few weeks. It was a complicated mess, but it was theirs. It was something real, and for the first time in a long while, Logan found himself afraid that if he let go of it, it might slip through his fingers.
The thought terrified him. What if I can’t handle this? What if I let him down?
“Yeah, I do,” Logan said quietly, his words cutting through the tension. “But that doesn’t mean I know how to be in this. Not yet.”
Wade’s gaze softened, and for once, there was no joke, no punchline. Just Wade, there, with that half-smile that Logan had come to know all too well.
“You don’t have to know everything, Logan,” Wade said, reaching out and taking his hand. “You just have to try. I’m not asking you to have all the answers. I’m asking you to be here. With me. Just... with me.”
Logan looked down at their intertwined hands and then back up into Wade’s eyes. He saw everything there—everything Wade had tried to hide behind humour and chaos. There was vulnerability, uncertainty, but most of all, there was trust.
Logan swallowed hard, his throat tight. The walls were crumbling, and it terrified him, but it was also freeing in a way he didn’t expect.
“I’m here,” Logan finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to. The space between them felt warm, unspoken understanding filling the silence.
Wade leaned in just a little closer, his breath warm on Logan’s cheek. “Good,” he said softly. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”
Logan smirked, but it was genuine this time. "Guess I don’t mind that." He hesitated, then reached out to tuck a loose strand of Wade’s hair behind his ear. The softness of the action felt natural, like something that had been building for a while now. There was no rush, no pressure to move faster than either of them were comfortable with.
It felt right, just being there with Wade—right in a way that Logan couldn’t remember ever feeling before. A subtle pull, something deeper than just physical attraction or simple companionship. A bond that was still fragile, but undeniable.
And, for once, Logan wasn’t afraid to see where it went.
***
The evening was still, the night stretching long in front of them. Logan sat on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The fire crackled softly in the corner, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Wade had been unusually quiet tonight, his usual snarky banter replaced by a soft, almost contemplative silence.
Logan glanced over, noticing that Wade had taken off his orange Ninja Turtle he insisted on wearing, claiming he was Michelangelo and Logan was Raphael whatever that meant.
“Something on your mind?” Logan’s voice broke the silence, a little more gravelly than he intended.
Wade turned his head slowly, meeting his gaze. There was a softness there, a vulnerability Logan hadn’t seen in him before. For a moment, Wade said nothing. He just studied Logan, as though weighing something in his mind.
“I don’t know, Logan,” Wade finally said, his voice low. “I guess I’m just thinking about how… easy it is, sometimes. Being here. With you.” He shifted slightly, his hands resting in his lap. “It’s weird. I never thought I’d feel this… normal.”
Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he watched Wade, his own thoughts swirling. He couldn’t deny that there was something deep in his chest when he thought about how easy it was, too. He’d spent most of his life alone, running from connections. And now, here he was, sitting with someone who saw him for who he really was, who didn’t ask him to change or be anything else.
"I get it," Logan said quietly. "It's... not exactly what we’re used to. But maybe it’s exactly what we need."
Wade let out a soft chuckle, but it lacked the usual humour. “Yeah,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “I think that’s the scariest part.”
There was a long pause, the weight of the moment settling over them like a blanket. Logan set his glass down, then moved a little closer, the space between them narrowing, not out of urgency but because it just felt right. Wade didn’t move away. In fact, he leaned in a little, just enough to close that final gap.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Logan reached out and brushed his fingers along Wade’s cheek. It was a light touch—soft, tentative—but it felt like a promise in itself. Wade’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, his breath hitching for just a moment.
“You’re not used to this, huh?” Wade murmured, his lips curling into a half-smile. His voice was quiet, almost vulnerable.
Logan shook his head slowly. “Not at all,” he admitted, his thumb tracing the curve of Wade’s jaw. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Want you.” His words were heavier than he expected, carrying a weight he’d never been able to express before. The truth was, he did want Wade. Not in a fleeting, casual way. No. This was deeper. More real.
Wade met his gaze, his own eyes soft but searching, looking for something Logan wasn’t sure he could articulate. The air between them felt thick with everything unsaid, and for the first time in ages, Logan didn’t want to run from it. He wanted to lean into it. To explore it.
Logan moved closer, his lips almost brushing Wade’s ear as he spoke. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But I’m not running anymore. Not from you.”
Wade’s hand found Logan’s, threading their fingers together. He gave a soft squeeze, the gesture simple, yet full of meaning. “You don’t have to run, Logan. I’m not going anywhere, either.”
The promise was simple, but it was everything.
Logan leaned in, their lips finally meeting in a kiss—slow, tender, as if they were both afraid of what would happen if they moved too quickly. There was no urgency, no need to rush. Just the shared quiet of two people who had been fighting for so long, against everything and everyone, finally finding peace in each other.
It was different from anything Logan had ever felt before. It wasn’t just about passion or desire. It was about connection, about sharing something real and raw. Wade didn’t need to mask himself, didn’t need to hide behind humour or bravado. And Logan? He didn’t need to be the lone wolf anymore.
As their kiss deepened, Logan pulled Wade closer, his hand resting on his back, drawing him in. Wade’s arms wrapped around Logan’s neck, holding him there, as if to say that there was no going back. They were here, together, for real this time. Not just as teammates or companions—but as something more.
When they finally pulled away, breathless, Wade smiled, his face flushed. “So, this is what ‘normal’ feels like?”
Logan chuckled softly, brushing a lock of Wade’s hair out of his face. “I think we’re doing okay.”
Wade leaned in again, pressing his forehead to Logan’s. “Yeah. We’re doing more than okay.”
The night stretched on around them, but for the first time in a long time, Logan didn’t need to escape. He didn’t need to hide or run. There was no fight to be had here—no battle with enemies or himself. There was only Wade, and the strange, beautiful thing they were building together.