Wade hasn’t seen Logan around the apartment all day. Which is weird—how does one lose track of a 300-pound (400-pound?) hunk of a man who’s made of solid muscle and adamantium?
Without Logan there to bother, Wade is pretty bored. He finds himself wandering aimlessly around the apartment, pausing in the kitchen every so often to open the fridge, stare inside at its lackluster contents, and shut the door empty-handed. Rinse and repeat, as though next time, there will miraculously be something else.
He eventually ends up in the bedroom, the vague idea of a nap at the back of his mind. But before he can flop onto the bed, he stops and narrows his eyes. Something is decidedly unusual about the scene in front of him. His Deadpool suit is where he last left it, tossed carelessly on the corner of the bed. And there, lying on top of it, is a small pile of fur. A breathing, living pile of fur, all curled up in a circle.
Huh. How the hell did an animal get inside here? Wade casts a glance toward the window—closed. And surely he would have noticed if it had tried to follow him through the front door.
Wade steps closer to examine the sleeping creature. Its fur is a pretty shade of dark brown, reminding him distinctly of Logan’s hair. Which is totally normal, by the way, to know the exact color of his friend-slash-roommate’s hair. Then the animal lifts its head, fixing Wade with an annoyed glare that he’d recognize anywhere, anytime. Wade lets out a loud gasp, both of his hands flying to his face, his mouth dropping open in a perfect “O” of surprise.
“Peanut? Is that you?!?”
The glare only intensifies, answering Wade’s question. Somehow, incredibly, Logan has been transformed into a tiny, adorable cat.
Wade laughs delightedly. “Oh. My. God. You’re so cute!” he coos. “Who’s a tiny, adorable kitty cat? You are!”
He sits down on the bed and reaches out his hand to pet Logan-the-cat, who lets out a warning hiss, his tail flicking dangerously from side to side. Unfazed, Wade keeps moving forward slowly but surely, until he’s stroking one finger gently between the cat’s ears—which, Wade realizes fondly, perfectly match the triangular little hair tufts on Logan-the-human.
After a couple of moments, Logan relaxes into the touch, allowing Wade to pet him fully. Wade grins triumphantly, running his hand over the length of Logan’s back. He has to admit, he’s proud of the fact that he’s seemingly the only one who can tame the prickly beast—both in human and cat form.
“See, I knew it,” Wade says, completely at ease with holding a one-sided conversation. It’s not much different than usual, really. “You always act all grumpy, but what you actually want is love and affection.”
Logan lets out a small huff as if to deny it, but given the way he’s leaning into Wade, he is not beating the allegations. Wade tilts his head, considering for the first time the location where Logan decided to sleep. He could have picked anywhere on the bed, but he deliberately chose the cramped corner, directly on top of Wade’s suit.
“Aww peanut, do you like my scent? That’s so sweet! C’mere.” Wade scoots fully onto the bed and sits back against the headboard, propping himself up with a pillow. He looks at Logan, patting his legs invitingly. When Logan doesn’t move, Wade sighs and leans over, scooping him up and dropping him unceremoniously onto his lap.
Caught by surprise, Logan squeaks out an indignant mrrp. “Look, if you don’t want to be picked up like a baby, you shouldn’t be the approximate shape and size of a baby,” Wade tells him reasonably.
In retaliation, Logan lifts his front paw, extends his claws, and stabs them directly into Wade’s thigh. It’s Wade’s turn to make a startled noise, and Logan somehow manages to look at him smugly, the all-too-human expression clearly written on his feline features. Logan’s claws are sharp and deadly as ever, but Wade schools himself to remain still, not wanting to make any move that causes Logan to leave.
Logan pulls his claws out of Wade and sits back for a moment. Then he lifts his other paw and digs his claws into Wade again. He repeats his movements, switching sides each time, until he’s kneading rhythmically at Wade’s leg.
Thrilled, Wade breaks out into a smile. “Holy shit, I can’t believe it—the great and mighty Wolverine is making biscuits on me. Is this true love?” Wade squirms slightly with each scrape of Logan’s claws, but he endures the pain willingly. Because honestly, it’s an honor to be chosen like this.
It doesn’t take too long for Logan to stop, apparently deciding that he’s made Wade suffer enough. He walks around in a tight circle once, twice, three times, before lying down with a satisfied huff of breath. He takes a second to adjust his position, tucking in his legs until he’s made himself into a neat loaf shape.
“Great job, baby.” Wade pats Logan on the head approvingly. “Excellent loaf form.”
Logan just blinks at him sleepily, and then closes his eyes. “Oh, is it time for a nap?” Wade whispers. “Don’t worry, I’ll shut up now.” And he actually does, for once in his life. Even the Merc with a Mouth knows to respect the sanctity of a sleeping cat.
After mulling it over for a few moments, Wade takes a calculated risk. He lifts his hand, settling it carefully along the back of Logan’s neck. Logan’s ears twitch minutely, but otherwise he seems to tolerate the touch well enough. Wade starts petting Logan’s fur, which turns out to be softer than he expected. Idly, Wade wonders if he’ll ever get a chance to pet Logan’s actual hair when he’s a human. He sighs wistfully. A guy can dream.
Experimentally, Wade brings his hand around and rests it under Logan’s chin, lightly scratching back and forth. Eyes still closed, Logan tips his head up to give Wade more access. Then all of a sudden, the peaceful quiet of the room is broken by a low rumbling sound.
Wade is confused at first, but it quickly dawns on him. “Logan. Babygirl. Are you purring?” he says, voice hushed in awe.
Logan stops abruptly, as if embarrassed to be caught doing it.
“No, don’t stop! I like it. It’s cute—I mean, intimidating,” Wade reassures him. “But also cute,” Wade adds under his breath, and he can just feel how much Logan wants to roll his eyes, even if cats can’t really do it.
After hesitating, Logan starts purring again, to Wade’s relief. The steady, soothing sound fills the air, and the comforting vibrations make Wade’s body relax. Without thinking, Wade leans his head back against the headboard, his eyes slipping closed.
Wade isn’t exactly sure how long the two of them lie together like that, enjoying each other’s company. Eventually, the sky outside the window begins to darken, and Wade gets pins and needles in his legs. Not to mention, he could really use a trip to the bathroom. But, wanting to milk this for as long as possible, he’s determined not to be the first one to get up.
It occurs to Wade that he should document what’s happening, since it’s probably a once-in-a-lifetime occasion—having a sweet, docile Logan cuddled in his lap. Moving his arm slowly, Wade manages to take his phone out of his pocket and turn on the camera. He hits the button to take a picture, and—
“Shit!”
“Mrrrow!”
A bright burst of white light blinds both of them simultaneously. Because for some terrible, ungodly reason, the camera flash was turned on.
In an instant, Logan leaps up and swipes his claws across Wade’s cheek. “Ouch! Okay, you know what, I deserved that,” Wade allows, dabbing at his blood with his sleeve. He tries to roll away, but Logan latches on tight with his claws. “Wait—hold on—fuck! Not my balls, you monster!”
Wade groans, resigned to spending the rest of the night getting thoroughly mauled by a cat who’s a fraction of his size. But it’s going to be worth it, he decides, because now he has undeniable photographic proof of Logan being a lovable, adorable little cat.
And he’s never going to let Logan live it down.