Self-reflection is such a rare thing in the world these days, Logan thinks. The shortage of such a basic skill is a disease for humanity, and Logan probably got the worst of this epidemic back in his universe. Letting his entire family die? Possibly the hardest slap to reality someone could get. Although, he wished he got another one to screw his head on right, because he spent his next decade sulking and killing instead of doing something helpful with his life.
Fortunately, that next slap would happen after he met the-- albeit surprising-- man of his dreams. (God, those words would never have come out of his mouth a few months ago).
Wade softened the very pointy adamantium edges, transforming Logan from an angry alcoholic to a cuddly... less alcoholic. He would've never thought, even before his friends died, that he'd be spooning an extremely hyperactive man to sleep every night.
And that was all he needed to get back on track. Now, they have stable jobs as rogue mercs and work in timeline defense for the TVA. Every day, it seems, is full of surprises. This day was not any different.
In front of him in an interrogation room sat two other versions of him. They looked almost exactly like him, except the suits were black, torn, and much too edgy for his liking. Their hair seemed more voluminous as well, edges pointed to perfection. The rebelliousness of their getup starkly contrasted Logan's neat TVA button-up and slacks.
Wade, Logan, and a group of Hunters spent a long too many hours trying to wrangle these other Logans. What made it worse was that they were old versions of him, more in their prime, more-- well, stupid. Knowing himself, they wouldn't have come with their tail between their legs.
These variants were to be put through trial for the crime of damaging other timelines. And, yeah, they seemed like the timeline destroying types. Something happened in their lives to make them act in such a way, and that's why Logan Prime was called into the interrogation room-- to find the root cause of their issues. Like therapy was something he was good at.
Look, Logan was tired and wanted to watch reruns of Family Feud with his boyfriend. So his plan was to agree with whatever the TVA said and have them arrested ASAP. The case was clear as day, they obviously were trying to destroy some universes using makeshift Time Rippers. There is literally evidence in the room, a destroyed Ripper in the corner.
Grumbling along to any questions he was asked, he eventually passed enough time to where the TVA interrogator left the room to compile the results.
"Logan-- sorry, our Logan-- Can you keep an eye on these two while I'm gone?" the dixie sounding woman asked.
Awesome. Babysitting duty.
Logan nodded and pulled out the chair she sat in and made himself comfortable, blatantly avoiding eye contact with the angry variants.
"What made you a fucking lapdog for these bastards?" one of his twins barked.
Hey. I'm not a lapdog for anyone but Wade, he thought (secretly). His actual response is a grunt.
"Aren't you gonna help us? We're you."
No you're not. I was you, but not anymore. Logan pinches his forehead. He really did not want to argue.
"Fine, let us down like you let your Jean down."
Okay, how the fuck did these two sniffly, nosy fucks know about that? He finally makes eye contact.
"Did I strike a nerve?" the left twin asks.
"Who told you?"
"One of these Hunters running their big mouth. Could hear it a mile away," the right twin chimes in.
Clearly these Logans must have better hearing abilities. Or maybe he's getting older.
"'Be smart to keep your fucking mouth shut," Logan warns. "I'll put your asses in the Void for all I care."
And of course, old him would throw himself into more danger.
"This time collar is the only thing holding me back from breaking your big head wide open." As if that were funny, both of them snicker at that. Yikes, these are like annoying middle school boys. Reminds him of the kids he used to teach. Shit, he was that immature?
His skin starts prickling with rage and guilt for whatever juvenile crap he may have done to his friends-- to Wade. He already knew he was an ass, but on this level? Before his claws can retract, his beaming lover strides into the room.
"Good morning, Vietnam!" Wade says in an odd impression, bursting the doors wide open.
He takes his mask off, expecting to see only one Logan, but-
"Did I hit my head? I'm seeing triple! Oh God, what's my name again?" Wade starts to ramble, but interrupts himself when he zeroes in on his super duper awesome boyfriend. "Schnookums! I got us McDonald's from a random timeline! But don't tell B-15 I stole her TemPad..."
Whatever anger Logan had immediately melted into a sweet, dumbfounded smile.
Wade practically leaps over and gives him his chicken nuggets, plus his soda. Then, he gives him a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kiss on the lips. "Sorry baby, I got the free toy for myself, maybe next time. This was an apology kiss," he whispers to him. Logan lets out a small chuckle.
"WADE WILSON!" a disembodied, furious voice howls from the hall.
Wade freezes, eyes wide, "She found out. Gotta go, find me after she whoops my ass!" he tells him while sprinting out of the room, replanting his mask.
Lost in a lovestruck daze, he didn't even remember he was in a room with two assholes. Said two assholes were glaring claws into him.
(Logan realizes after a few seconds of daydreaming about Wade.)
He returns the disgusted look they're giving. "What?" Logan snaps.
"Him?" one asks.
"What do you mean?" Logan asks calmly, gritting his teeth.
"You're dating him? That's the greatest joke I've heard in decades," the left one starts. "Seriously, what do you see in that guy?"
Logan growls, almost embarrassed, but mostly pissed. He retains his dignity, shoving down any urge to kill and answers honestly.
There was a long list of things he saw in Wade. The first that came to mind were his amazing fighting skills, the amount of times he's saved his sorry ass, and how beautiful the man was, even with the scars. However, the most important of all was this:
"He makes me laugh."
The both of them look at each other and cackle, a cruel, dry wheeze he once shared with them.
"You really are the worst of us. Can't believe you fell for Deadpool. Is it just you and him in that universe? Ran out of people to fuck?"
Snikt!
Claws face right at his chin. "I'd watch your next words if I were you." Fuck being nice.
The other Logans gave each other a knowing look and grinned, a sly, rotten one.
"Jean wouldn't appreciate that one. Oh, wait, you let her die!"
Logan roared and slashed right at his neck.
He expected to see the other him stunned, blood gushing from the wound, but no. His pride got the best of him. The severed time collar drops lamely to the floor.
The newly freed Logan smiles, gives a sarcastic thank you, and goes right into the attack.
...
The next ten minutes were an uphill struggle to defend himself against himself, which if he did the math, added up to twice his strength. And holy shit, the age question that Wade's been poking fun at might actually be valid. These other Logans are quick, far quicker than he ever remembered being. Every time he thought he landed a hit, they'd reappear behind him like magic. So far he's been able to defend himself, but he's getting exhausted.
Yells and grunts bounce off the tile wall as the theater replays one of the Wolverine's lives, highlight after highlight. Sickening squelches of flesh being pierced over and over overwhelm Logan's hearing, but at this point, he's not sure who's being stabbed. Adrenaline took the reins long ago.
Finally, after an attempted punch, his arm is caught mid-air by a variant. Logan's eyes widen as his arm quivers, trying to escape the bone-breaking grip. Like a silent predator, the other materializes behind the struggling man, kicking behind his knees and sending him sprawling to the floor.
Each arm is pinned behind him, the other stepping on him to make sure he wouldn't stand.
"Don't feel bad, you're destined to be a failure anyways," the one with the boot on his back says, preparing to slice his head off.
Before that could happen, a stumbling interrogator opens the doors wide, a stack of papers falling in her wake. She starts, "My goodness, I'm so sorry for the wait, the printer got jammed and-- Oh my stars!"
The Wolverines freeze, caught in the act like children sneaking into the cookie jar.
"Emergency! Security! Code red! Escaped variants!" she slews in a panic, running out of the room to look for off-duty guards.
Logan uses the opportunity to free his arm, knock the Wolverines off of him, and get as much space in between them as possible until help arrives.
He only holds off for about 30 more seconds until the room is flooded with armed Hunters.
Generously, he aides in the fight to apprehend the criminals. It only takes the threat of activated pruning sticks before they agree to the cuffs.
Just like clockwork, B-15 marches into the theater with extra soldiers. "Thank you, Logan, for helping to arrest these variants. And, for automatically proving them guilty. Attacking TVA case workers is a crime punishable by pruning," she explains. "Not to mention, the reports prove these two further guilty of timeline destruction."
B-15 approaches the two trouble-makers, giving them a stern mom look. One of them nods their head nonchalantly, clearly unfazed by the situation.
"Prune them," she commands.
"Wait," Logan pauses the Hunters. Everyone looks at him expectingly.
"Is there an issue?" B-15 asks.
"Let me do it."
Confused but wary at the request, she hands one of the sticks to him.
Face to face with his variants, he stands taller, more sure of himself than 15 minutes prior. This was for closure, and for Wade. Nobody insults Wade. Except Althea.
Apprehensive silence blankets the theater, Hunters hunched in preparation for anything.
Logan begins, getting straight to the point. "You're both miserable, sad excuses of men. I'd pray you'd get the opportunity to change, but unfortunately, you insulted my boyfriend. Enjoy Hell, fuckfaces."
And just like that, both are pruned, the staticky cries chipping to nothingness.
Clapping erupts from the entrance, Logan expecting it to multiply, but no-- it's just Wade. The Hunters stand down as the stick deactivates and is handed off. They file out one-by-one.
Wade approaches Logan, gloved hands still clapping. Logan leaps in for an embrace, bones popping in surprise. "Hey big guy, missed you too!" the masked man squeaks out. Logan just smiles, taking in the vague scent of detergent and chimichangas.
B-15 still remains in the room. "Amazing job Logan, I heard you were fighting for too long. This might constitute a promotion," she hints, winking and leaving the men for privacy.
"Holy shitballs, peanut, that speech was so badass!" Wade gushes, cupping the other's face in his hands. "What was up with them, though? Was a stick stuck in their asses and you were forced to perform a prostate exam to get it out?"
Logan would've chuckled at the crude humor, but he grimaced, thinking about how awful he used to be. How awful he treated Wade at first.
"You mad they had bigger johnsons than yours?" Wade probes on, waiting for even a tiny chuckle. None comes. Wade silently curses himself, forcing his dialogue to become serious.
Wade takes his mask off. "I love you, you remember that right?"
"Of course."
"Do you want to talk about--"
"Did I say anything shitty to you before? Because I'm sorry," Logan spouts all at once.
"Oh," Wade dumbly realizes what this all was about. "My goldfish memory can't recall. Besides, that would've been the old you. The Logan B.W. Era, which stands for Before Wade."
Logan hopes to God he's telling the truth. "I don't ever want to hurt you again," he confesses quietly, bringing them back into a gentle hug.
"Oh, this is too sweet, I can feel the cavities already," Wade groans jokingly, muffled in Logan's shoulder.
"I'm serious."
"I know. You're the best Wolverine, no matter what they say. That's because you learned how to open up. No thanks to the Post Wade Era."
"You do have that effect on people."
"One of the greatest historical moments will be me turning Logan "El Macho" Howlett into Mr. Cuddles!"
Logan rolls his eyes fondly, refusing to admit it out loud.
"I heard that eye roll!"
After another moment of quiet hugging, Wade awws in disappointment at the sight of Logan's soured and bloodied Chicken Nuggets. "Peanut, did those dickwads ruin a perfectly good meal?" He separates himself from the other, picking up the mess.
The man nods solemnly.
"I stole these for a high price of free!" he groans. "Come on, let's get home and get some more. I'll get into Blind Al's old lady penny jar to pay."
Wade takes his hand and begins leaving. Wordlessly, Logan holds his hand a little tighter this time. Whatever he may have gone through, whatever caused the frown lines on his face to gradually deepen, was far behind him now. The crazy, talkative, and oddly romantic man was living proof of successful second chances.
Now if you'll excuse him, he has a 10-piece to eat.