My Feral Lolo

The moment Logan woke up, he knew it was going to be a very bad day.

Usually his healing factor, superhuman strength and stamina would take care of the extra added weight of the adamantium. However, sometimes his body simply couldn’t cope, thus resulting in what he had dubbed: heavy days. His Beast had said that it was a combination of his joints and ligaments being under too much strain and needing time to recover and his body stressed due to walking upright instead of his natural inclination of walking on all fours.

With a grunt Logan rolled over onto his side and, with immense effort, onto all fours. He walked out of his nest, very slowly, and very stiffly toward the dresser, and opened the bottom drawer. Then, with a sigh, he sat down and began the very arduous process of dressing himself.

The joints in his fingers were uncooperative and painful. Logan opted for a white a-shirt, boxers and dark green, lightweight, 3/4 men's capris - the combo he usually opted for when he was feeling either feral or extremely shitty. There was just something about having anything touching his ankles or feet that just set him off when he was like this. He supposed he could ask Beast for his opinion, but decided he’d rather chew off his arm than set foot in the X-mansion ever again.

Logan let out another grunt. Over the course of his 200+ years of living he heard people endlessly wax poetic about his healing factor and how ‘incredibly lucky he was to have such a gift’. Completely oblivious and naive to the psychological pain that lingered from being repeatedly brought back from death time and time again, the phantom pain from injuries long passed or the insane amount of calories one had to consume each day just to keep oneself functioning. Healing factors were, in short, a double edged sword and sometimes Logan truly hated it.

Even though he wanted nothing more than to rot in bed all day, he couldn’t. If he didn’t eat then he’d be worse off tomorrow. Fuck his entire goddamn life. From the same drawer, he took his communication cards and bit down on the carabiner, allowing the cards to dangle from his mouth.

Logan had found them on the living room table one day. Just sitting on the top as if they had been thrown onto the table’s surface like a pair of keys. Each card was hand drawn, coloured and detailed and had one single word per card. Under each word was its braille translation.

The words were: Overwhelmed, Tired, Hungry, Yes, No, Angry, Pain, Happy, Help and Unsure.

Wade had explained that while she understood, Althea found his non verbal days to be quite difficult as being unable to see and hear someone, especially a person she had grown to care for, left her feeling anxious.

“Communication cards” Wade clarified “Althea and I made them so you could communicate with us when you go nonverbal. The carabiner is so you can carry them with you on your belt loop and don’t have to worry about holding onto them.”

Logan flipped through the cards, admiring the work that went into them.

As he did so, Wade continued to speak “I noticed that when you get kinda, uh, feral, or when you’re feeling super shitty you…” he struggled to find the right words, wanting to put it as delicately as possible “kinda dissociate so I thought that it’d be easier if things were simplified. One word, one picture. You can hold the card up to communicate with me and with Althea, just tap the card so she can find it. Easy peasy.

Behind the facade of jokes and feigned stupidity Wade Wilson hid a very observant and intelligent mind. He had this habit of learning all he could about someone just by quickly interacting with them. This could either be a godsend or a nightmare depending on who they were and his relationship with them. And it was this observant mind that Logan was banking on because he didn’t even have the energy to talk, let alone explain what was wrong or what he needed. Hell, he barely had the energy to keep his head up. At least the ground was very interesting, he supposed.

The sound of a plate being placed in the drying rack and the squeak squeak of a cup being washed. With a groan, Logan sat on his haunches and placed his head in his hand. Made it halfway to the living room and his body felt like he had run a marathon. Beast’s words echoed in his mind like unwanted NPC dialogue ’your ligaments are under an intense amount of strain everyday, Logan. Your bones add an additional 105 pounds to your overall weight, and usually your super strength, stamina and healing factor can compensate for that, but everything has it’s limits. I beg of you, Logan, listen to your body. Rest and allow it to heal!’

Logan cringed as he remembered replying none too kindly that life went on and he didn’t have the luxury of lying around like a useless lump while everyone else busted their asses. He had never seen Beast look so disappointed and worried.

Wade turned his head and paused in his washing. With keen eyes, his gaze swept over Logan’s pitiful form - hunched over and bereft of energy. With a hum, Wade resumed his cleaning. He made sure to be loud enough so Althea could hear “Do you care what I put in the mystery smoothie or do you not give a shit?”

He stopped once more, glass in hand, and glanced in Logan’s direction just in time to see a shrug “don’t care? I can work with that.”

Logan slowly, but surely, made his way toward the living room.

Wade finished up his washing and reached into the cupboard. He loaded a generous amount of heavy cream, hemp hearts, a few cubes of frozen, pre-cut fish, cinnamon, honey, blueberries, and extra plain greek yogurt into the magic bullet and blended it together.

Trying not to gag, Wade paced the disgusting lumpy mixture into Logan’s no spill cup. The cup was clear, had one large handle, a thick straw and a secure, no spill, top. It was covered in Applejack stickers.

When Logan had laid eyes on it for the first time he had thought it was a joke.

“Lolo listen, I know it looks stupid but it’ll help! You don’t even need to grab it, you can just do this” Wade slid his hand into the cup’s wide handle and then let it hang. “Pretty awesome, right?”

Then, feeling embarrassed, he got mad.

“I - I am not a fucking toddler!” Logan let out a low growl. His brow furrowed and the longer he stared at it, the angrier he became.

Wade said nothing. Logan watched as he simply filled the cup up with water, turned toward him then dropped it - maintaining eye contact as he did so. It hit the floor. Nothing spilled, nothing broke, and Wade gestured to It as if to say ‘see?’.

The X-men never were this thoughtful or observant when it came to his needs. A part of him was terribly grateful for this chance to keep some independence when he was incapacitated during his heavy days, but the other half was just so furious at the fact that he even needed it in the first place. God, compared to the other Wolverines he really was the worst.

From her place at the dining room table, Althea spoke. She was reading a book, her fingers rapidly making their way across the page “you know, Logan, Wade’s got a point. Needing a drinking aid doesn’t make you a child, just means you need a little help. Nothing wrong with that.”

“That one’s going right in the memory banks” Wade whispered to himself, giddy as could be “I’ve got a point. Hehe.”

It had taken Wade all of two months to figure out what the X-men couldn’t in the two years he had spent with him. Logan swallowed thickly and tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. But that mean voice inside his head was quick to remind him that ‘it wasn’t their fault that you’re a faulty shield.’

“Didn’t need it then, n’ I don’t need it now…”

“Then what did you do when you were with the X-men?” Wade gently probed. His brow furrowed and concern laced his voice.

“Figured it out, like I always do” Logan replied, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

The yellow and blue suit, the aggressive and reckless fighting style, the complete disregard for his health…Wade’s eyes went wide as all the pieces finally fell into place. If the X-men of Logan’s world weren’t already dead he’d fucking kill them himself.

“Listen, Lolo, I know those X-fucks tried to drill it into your head that you always gotta be useful, but you don’t! It’s ok to feel like shit and let yourself rest.” Wade said, desperately trying to make Logan understand.

“It wasn’t their fault that I’m defective!” roared Logan. He stood there, breathing heavily, his sharp canines exposed and a single tear ran down his cheek.

Althea slammed her hand down on the table with a loud bang, causing an oppressive silence to fall over the room and both men to jump “How fucking DARE you say something so foul! Don’t you ever say that shit in this house, not now, not ever! Do you understand?”

Logan turned his head in Althea’s direction. His eyes went wide and his heart dropped into his stomach. He had never seen Althea so furious. He looked back at Wade and saw him looking just as shocked.

The humans from his world had the same look. The anger and venom in their voices, calling him terrible things and wishing him ill. Logan’s hands grabbed the fabric of his shirt in an iron grip, fear taking hold. It was happening again. He had something good and he had gotten angry and fucked it all up.

Althea slowly made her way over, her cane going back and forth and the moment it hit his foot, she stopped and, as hard as she could, thwacked both of his ankles with it to drive her point home “My blindness doesn’t make me defective. Wade’s dyslexia doesn’t make him defective.” She stopped and poked him in the chest “your joint pain doesn’t make you defective! A persons value isn’t fucking tied to the things they can do for other people!”

Logan tried to stop the tears, but the pain was just too great. 24 years of being treated like a mindless, violent, diseased ridden, animal; of being othered, isolated and treated like a shield….it had taken its toll. And with those simple words, the floodgates had opened, and all of the mental anguish had hit him at once. Logan sank to the floor and sobbed.

Althea muttered “about fucking time.”

“How ya feeling, baby?” Althea moved her cane to the side and patted the couch cushion next to her. Logan got on his haunches and heaved himself up with great effort, his joints cracking as he did so. With a groan, he laid down on his stomach and opened his mouth, laying the cards down. Logan splayed the cards out and tapped on the card that said ’pain’ with a shaky finger.

She placed both hands on the card and moved them from left to right along each line. She let out a hum “I’m sorry, baby.” Logan let out a soft cluck and a coo as Althea scratched right behind his ears and ran her fingers through his hair.

With the food finished, Wade placed the no spill cup on the end table and turned his attention to his next task of setting up the heated pad. Long, and a boring light grey, the item in question proved to be indispensable to the men as both suffered from chronic pain and relied on it to make their bad days just a little more bearable.

Wade rolled it out in front of the TV, just far enough away from the couch as to not be in Althea’s way. He plugged it in and gave it a few spritz with some cinnamon essential oils, then covered the pad with his favourite Pinkie Pie blanket, a super fluffy pillow and placed a folded thick green blanket beside it.

He walked over to the couch and leaned down to address Logan who looked like a miserable sack of shit “so, Lolo, do you want to try getting down on your own, or do you want me to carry you?”

Wade was expecting some kind of resistance, a low growl, or even a glare, but to his surprise, Logan simply tapped the card that said ’help’ and grunted.

With a nod, Wade scooped him up like a cat and swiftly sauntered over to the pad. Gentle as could be, he laid Logan down on his stomach and laid the thick blanket over him, trapping him in a cocoon of cinnamon warmth. A satisfied chirp escaped Logan as the heat soothed his aching joints, Wade’s scent enveloped him and the impossibly soft pillow cradled his head.

Kneeling down, Wade said with an exaggerated English accent “your disgusting slop, sir”, placed the cup next to Logan’s head, and splayed the communication cards next to it within easy reach, then gently took Logan’s left hand in his and cringed “Yikes. Yeah, those joints are completely fucked. I’ll go roll you a joint. Hey Al, you want some?”

Two years ago, a group of mutants had developed their own strains of cannabis specifically tailored to mutants. It was an untapped market and proved to be extremely financially successful. One strain in particular, This Is Fine or: TIF, was especially popular among those with chronic pain for its smooth flavour and soothing properties.

“Depends. Which one?”

“TIF.”

“Awww hell no, keep that shit away from me! Last time I smoked that shit, it got me all fucked up and not in a good way.” She flipped Wade the finger as he walked off with a laugh.

With a clumsy slap, Logan knocked the cup over. His nose twitched and he sniffed, it smelled so good. Logan truly loved the plastic monstrosity, it allowed him to stay mostly laying down and eat without spilling. Logan slowly sucked on the thick straw and let out a satisfied moan as the chunky liquid hit his tongue.

Wade eventually returned, laid down on his stomach and was holding the fattest blunt Logan had ever seen between his fingers. Logan stopped eating, licked his lips and tilted his head to the side - he didn’t recognize the smell of that strain.

“This is TIF - ‘this is fine’. It’ll Baja blast the ever loving shit outta your brain, Peanut. No more pain.” Wade lit it and held the joint out to him. Logan took a long inhale, Wade did the same. They took turns passing the blunt back and forth. Logan laid his head back down and let out a long exhale, the smoke coming out of his mouth like tendrils.

The one downside to mutant strains was they tended to hit very hard and very fast. And this was especially true for Mutates - mutant like people who’s recessive X-Gene was activated through external means or stimuli - who were much more prone to its effects and were hit that much harder.

Logan looked up just in time to see Wade roll onto his back, splayed like a starfish. He said nothing and simply stared at the ceiling - the very epitome of calm - and entranced with whatever strange shit he was seeing. It had taken a little under two minutes for him to get zonked.

Wade reached out and patted Logan on the head, he said, his voice heavy like molasses “Sure you don’t…………want any, Al?”

Mary hopped up on the couch with her stubby little legs and curled up on Althea’s lap. Althea stroked her wrinkly head and said “got a question for you, dumbass.”

It took a long time for the words to reach Wade. He tilted his head back to look at her, seemingly entranced by his upside down view of Althea and Puppins “…..yah?”

“Who’s gonna take care of Logan, me? I’m blind you irresponsible bitch” Puppins gave a huffing snort and stood up on her hind legs to lick at Althea’s face.

“……So mean to me” Wade whispered, his voice sounding like it was being carried away by the wind. He rolled onto his stomach and crawled back over to where Logan lay, then turned and gripped his muttonchops. Wade looked mesmerized by the simple, gentle pulling motion and then said “I’ll…………………do it.”

“You can barely string a sentence together!” She threw her hands up in exasperation “fuck sake!”

Logan’s half lidded gaze slowly swept the room. Everything was taking on a fuzzy and unfocused perspective, and slowly, but surely, the pain faded along with the thoughts in his head and his feral mindset steadily moved to the forefront.

Hands splayed and with small, slow, movements, Logan began to make digging motions. His claws just poking through as he did so. A series of happy chirps filled the air as his feral mind kept him in a slight dream state where he was stuck in a very pleasant digging loop.

Wade let go of Logan’s mutton chops and laid back down on his back, then reached up and patted Logan’s cheeks. Seeing things upside down was so very exciting.

Whatever was happening, it certainly sounded cute. Althea got her phone out and used the voice assist to open up the camera app. She aimed her phone in what she assumed was the direction her boys were in and stopped, then muttered to herself “what’s the point?”

Puppins let out a sad whine.

Althea began to feel left out and very left behind. She could hear Logan’s happy chirps and the slow, gentle scraping of fingers on the floor and Wade’s ooh’s and ah’s at whatever he was seeing. Being blind could be so isolating and right now, Althea couldn’t help but feel like she was completely and utterly alone.

Sometimes, she felt jealous of Logan. The healing factor, the fact that he was so spry despite being centuries old, but worst of all, she was jealous that he was taking Wade’s attention away from her. She longed for the days when Wade would sit beside her on the couch and talk her ear off. Now, it seemed like he only had time for Logan. ‘I’m right here' she desperately wanted to say.

Althea continued to stroke Mary’s wrinkly back, and frowned. She felt so wicked. She felt so ashamed. The phone was tossed aside, bounced off the couch’s armrest and hit the floor with a clatter.

Rolling toward the phone, Wade grabbed it with a clumsy hand and then observed Althea for a long moment. She looked so sad. He looked at the phone and noticed the camera app was open and his sluggish brain placed the pieces together

Wade got to his feet with one smooth motion, took the throw pillows from the couch and the recliner and stacked them on Logan’s left side, making a sort of comfortable sitting area for Althea. The latter of whom cried out in surprise as Wade enveloped her in a tight hug and lifted her up like she weighed nothing “What the fuck?! Put me down!”

Wade eased her down onto the pile of pillows. She sat with her right side leaning against Logan’s blanketed body and a throw was clumsily wrapped around her shoulders “motherfucker! Why did you do that?” Puppins hopped off the couch and curled up in Althea’s lap once more.

Wade booped her on the nose, walked over to Logan’s right side and sat down, slumped over like a shrimp “Ohana…means family and family…..means no one…gets left behind, right…Lolo?” Logan let out a soothing coo and stopped his digging. His nose twitched and he lifted his head from the pillow, searching for his no spill cup.

Wade leaned over and rolled it back toward Logan and smiled as he watched him gently chew on the straw before resuming his eating. Althea sat in silence for a moment, then laid a hand on Logan’s back and asked Wade “how much did I -?”

“Nothing……didn’t have…to. Face said…it all…” Wade draped himself over Logan’s back like a sloth and murmured “such a….toasty roasty….wolvie.”

Althea leaned her head against Logan's side, gave a small smile and sighed.