Chapter 1
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“Fuck- Mother fucker -”
“Stupid fucking door-!”
It was safe to say Logan was pretty shit-faced, especially after an entire night of finding solace at the bottom of a glass of whatever alcoholic drink he could get his paws on. He’d finally been kicked out when it had hit the third hour of endless drinking; Logan had tried to flash his claws, not really wanting to leave whatever this false sense of security of the bar had gifted him- turns out you really can get whiskey dick for claws.
Fuck you, Mouth. He cursed internally.
Thankfully, after being forced out of the building, The mutant was able to make it back to what Wade lovingly called “A crack home” without screwing himself further. He was surprised he didn’t get lost, drunker than he had been in a while. Maybe about five months.
All because of a specific red masked asshole dumping out all his liquor.
How’d this all start? A certain fucking letter from a certain metal x-men, wanting a New Wolverine to take the previous one’s place, stating it would be a better start, to which Logan as immediately shredded the paper and dumped the remains down the garbage disposal.
The alcohol had helped for a while, never really pausing between drinks to make sure his healing factor hadn’t quickly cleared it all up; But now, dragging his legs up the stairs of the apartment complex, Logan found his thoughts once again being drowned out.
The Guilt.
The Screams.
Did the alcohol help the pain? Logan didn’t want to think about it, so he quickly shot that thought down.
Now, mind blank and elsewhere, he found himself in front of the apartment door, mission being to find the keys to aforementioned door, sluggishly wracking his hands through every pocket he could think he had; Front pockets, ass pockets, outside jacket pockets, inside pockets.
Fuck. That’s gotta be the third pair.
A low growl rumbled through Logan’s chest as he now had to figure out how to open the goddamn door. After about a minute or two, he decided to try and bust through the door.
Drawing in a deep breath, whiskey-dick-claws recovered from probably lethal doses of alcohol, he unsheathed the adamantium claws and dug them through the metal of the doorknob, completely destroying his or anyone else’s need for a key and lock.
He’d pay Wade back for a replacement, maybe even an entirely new door, it already looked as if it would crack or splinter from a small knock.
Opening the door, Logan was met with the almost comforting look of the apartment. The walls caked in bullet holes from Wade’s boredom and target practice, the old dishes in the sink, the couch that was decorated in foam and ripped fabric from from his claws on the first few nights Logan had slept on it, even the smell of mildew and weed surrounding the space like a cloud. The curtains that resemble hospital sheets.Wade’s weapons lay about as if they couldn’t fatally injure someone. Wade’s clothing. Wade.
Wade. Home. Safe.
He wasn’t surprised to see the man already on the other side, sitting on the arm of the couch, right leg resting on top of the left, chin resting in the palm of his hand.
The sound of the doorknob being torn from the joints probably was an indicator that Logan was back, he hadn’t been in the apartment since the birds had started chirping.
Logan paused, silently sniffing the air to ground himself before his eyes landed on his roommate.
He needs to let go of the Hello Kitty pajama pants, when was the last time the fucking things were washed-
“You know, when I asked if I made your kitty wet, I didn’t mean walking into the apartment with your impression of a soggy cat, but I’m not complaining either.” Wade added cheekily, as usual. Then, looking over the drunken man for a moment, he stood up a few seconds later and moved to get closer.
“Why the breathtakingly beautiful long face, Peanut? Did Hugh Jackman get casted in another musical? Also, I’m guessing you’re not pouting over the money for a new door, either?” He murmured in a joking, but gentle tone. Logan only growled once more and tried to shove his way past Wade, not meeting the man’s eyes as he tried to get to the bathroom with the need to wash away his regrets of the night.
He also couldn’t stand the thought of Wade, the only one who actually chose him, called him the “Best Wolverine”, seeing Logan at his lowest once again, drunk with the same fucking reason as last time.
“Munchkin, Look at me-” Wade urged, tone slightly louder with an edge of worry, trying to get ahold of his arm.
“Fuck off.” Logan mumbled, movements sloppy as he tried to move away from the touch.
“No-can-do kitty cat, c’mere.” The merc continued, before praying to whatever was higher than Marvel Jesus that he wouldn’t earn a single claw in his dick, and taking Logan’s face into his hands to get the man to look at him.
Whatever Wade had been thinking was erased from his mind when he felt a vibration under his hands, only to realize it was accompanied by a low rumble.
In the process of the Mercenary taking Logan’s face into his hands, the man had basically melted into the soft touch, his eyes had fallen closed whilst pressing his face firmly into the scarred hands, a soft content sigh leaving his nose.
It took a minute for Wade’s brain to reboot.
“You can purr?! Are you actually half cat? Did I just find The Wolverine’s facial g-spot? Have I finally died and gone to Marvel heaven? I can say hey to Tony Stark for you-” In the midst of Wade’s amazement, the joking and sudden vulgarness had suddenly broken him from the trance the position had put him in and he quickly ripped his head away, pushing the man off of him and stomping off to the bathroom, leaving the other man standing in shock as the door slammed.
Wade shook himself off the moment and did his best to follow him into the bathroom before the door was firmly shut and locked, still needing to make sure his friend was okay, and maybe ask a million questions about what other animalistic qualities the former X-Men had.
Logan only ignored him ridding himself of his alcohol and sweat soaked clothing, not waiting for the spray to turn warm as he stood under the water, letting himself have a moment to process that he had one; purred, two; purred because Wade had touched him, and lastly; that his heart was still pounding from the gentle care the man had shown him.
Another growl left him as he shook his head, trying to physically move the feeling of Wade’s hands on his face, the comfort it brought, the fluttering in his gut. The sense of safety and comfort it placed into his heart.
He slowly looked at the splintered almost rotting door, digging his fingers into the tiled wall.
Another door needing to be replaced… And a way to figure out how to get his head screw back on straight.