It had only been a month since Logan moved in with Wade. For a while, it felt like things might be okay. For the first week, it was almost peaceful. Logan thought he might actually get some sleep. But the nightmares came back.
They always did.
It started with smaller less hectic nightmares. He would wake up his breath hitching, hands shaking as he jolted awake. Then, it got worse he would thrashing around, heart pounding like it was going to explode. His mind would play tricks on him, dragging him back to places he wish he’d forget.
After he managed to pull himself out of it, he’d force himself out of bed and head to the kitchen. Coffee. Breakfast. It was a simple routine, but it was something. He needed that. A way to steady himself, to feel like at least something was normal.
Wade, thankfully, never brought it up. Not once. He’d just shuffle into the kitchen in the morning, muttering some half-asleep comment about Logan’s cooking, and pretend like he didn’t notice the dark circles under Logan’s eyes.
Logan was grateful for that. He hated the way people used to try and talk to him about it, like they could fix what was going on inside his head. But he also hated the way Wade looked at him, soft and sympathetic, like he could see every crack, every piece of Logan that was falling apart.
Wade would glance at Logan as he made breakfast, and his eyes would linger, like he wanted to say something but knew better. Logan couldn’t decide if it made him feel seen or just exposed. Either way, it pissed him off. But Wade never said anything, and Logan was thankful for that.
Then, one night, the nightmares got worse. Logan found himself back in the same nightmare he thought he’d buried deep. Scott, Jean, Charles, he could see them all, their lifeless bodies sprawled out on the floor.
Their eyes, empty and accusing, locked onto his. Their voices, raspy and unnatural, telling him it was all his fault. Screaming at him, taunting him, the words repeating in his head.
It’s your fault.
It’s your fault.
It’s your fault.
It’s your fault.
Logan woke up gasping, his heart pounding. He was still shaking, the nightmare’s refusing to get out of his mind. It took him a good twenty minutes to calm down, to remind himself that it wasn’t real, that they weren’t really there, that he hadn’t let them die all over again.
When he finally looked up, Wade was standing in the doorway, watching him, his face lit only by the soft glow of the light coming through the window. He was wearing his ridiculous pajamas, the ones that said, “If lost, return to Logan” (and of course, Logan had a matching set that said “I’m Logan”).
“Wade,” Logan muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, too tired and drained to muster up his usual gruff tone.
“Hey, Peanut,” Wade said, and Logan hated how gentle his voice was, how it made him want to start crying all over again. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, Wade.” Logan tried to sound firm, but his voice cracked, betraying him. Wade just stood there, not saying anything, not moving, and Logan could feel the weight of his gaze. It was like he was trying to figure out if Logan was really okay or just saying it to get him to go away.
Wade being Wade, he didn’t leave it alone. He walked over and sat down on the bed next to Logan, close enough that Logan could feel the warmth radiating off him.
“Talk to me,” Wade said softly, his eyes searching Logan’s. “Was it another nightmare?”
“Yeah,” Logan said quietly. He didn’t know why he even admitted it. Maybe it was the way Wade was looking at him, like he actually cared. Like he wasn’t going to judge him.
“Well, seems like you need some cuddles. Come on.” Wade’s face broke into a grin, that same ridiculous, cheery smile that usually made Logan want to roll his eyes but now just made his heart twist. Wade wrapped his arms around Logan, pulling him close, and Logan let himself lean into the touch, just this once.
“Wade, you can’t stay here,” Logan said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“Why not, Peanut? You don’t enjoy my company?” Wade said, still keeping his tone light, trying to make a joke.
The truth was, Logan did.
Too much.
“When I have these nightmares… the claws come out. I don’t want to hurt you,” Logan said, pulling away slightly, trying to put some distance between them. “Please, Wade. Just go back to your room.”
“Peanut, I’ll heal right back. You know that.”
“It’s not about that,” Logan said, his voice harsher than he intended. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“That’s not what you said in the Honda Odyssey,” Wade said, smirking, trying to make a joke out of it. Logan could tell he was trying to lighten the mood, to make Logan forget why he was so scared, but it didn’t work.
“Wade,” Logan sighed, exhausted, his shoulders slumping.
“Nope. I’m not moving.” Wade stayed where he was, stubborn as ever, and Logan stopped resisting and lay down next to him, hoping the nightmares wouldn’t come again. But deep down, he knew better.
***
He was right. The nightmare came back, worse than before. Logan woke up thrashing, claws out, cutting through the air, trying to fight off the ghosts in his head. He froze when he realized where he was, his heart dropping as he saw Wade.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Wade, you idiot, I told you,” Logan’s voice was raw, and his hands were shaking as he pressed down on Wade’s wounds, trying to stop the bleeding, panic overtaking him. “I told you to stay away.”
“Logan, I’m fine,” Wade said, his voice strained but steady. He gestured to his chest, the cuts already beginning to heal, skin knitting itself back together. “See? It’s okay.”
“No, no, no,” Logan stammered, his breathing fast and uneven, his hands still pressing against Wade’s chest. “Not again, shit, Wade—” His voice cracking.
“Hey, Logan.” Wade reached for Logan’s hand, gently pulling it away from his chest and placing it over his heart. “Feel that? I’m okay. My heart’s still beating. Look, it’s healing.”
Wade was right; the wounds were closing, and besides the holes in his shirt, there was no sign of damage. Logan could feel Wade’s heartbeat under his hand, steady and strong, and it slowly pulled him out of the panic, like an anchor.
“I’m sorry, Wade. I still hurt you,” Logan said, his voice breaking as he finally let the tears fall, the words tumbling out of him.
“I’m still here, though, aren’t I?” Wade said, his eyes soft and warm, not a hint of anger or fear, just love. “I’m not going anywhere, Logan.” He took Logan’s hand, squeezing it gently before pulling him up. “Come on, let’s go to my bed. We’ll deal with this mess later.”
Logan didn’t resist as Wade guided him to the bedroom. He let himself be pulled into Wade’s embrace, their bodies tangled together, and for once, he allowed himself to just breathe. To let his guard down.
As they lay there, Wade’s fingers gently tracing patterns on Logan’s back, Logan found himself waiting for the nightmares to come, to drag him back under. But they didn’t. For the first time in a long time, he was at peace. And as he drifted off to sleep, he held onto Wade to that sense of peace, wishing they could stay like that forever.