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you hurt my head (like cheap red wine)

Chapter 2: I Wanna Settle Down (With You)

Summary:

“You!” Smack. “Did not.” Whap. “Just say that you fucking love me.” Oof. “While your fucking dick was inside me!”

Chapter Text

Logan freezes at Wade’s words. 

Fuck, I love you, Lo.

He wrenches himself off Wade’s lap, off his cock in a way Wade knows hurts, judging by the stifled, sharp intake of breath and the wince on his furious, red face. Oh, yeah. He’s fucked it up royally. 

“Logan, wait—” he starts, reaching for Logan, but it’s futile because Logan hasn’t gone anywhere, really. He’s perched hovering over Wade’s legs, wildly shaking his head and grabbing for the pillow beside him. 

Before Wade can ask what the fuck he’s doing, Logan starts hitting him with it, over and over, yelling at Wade the whole time. 

“You!”

Smack.

“Did not.”

Whap.

“Just say that you fucking love me .”

Oof.

“While your fucking dick was inside me!” 

Wade might laugh at the whole situation if the pillow didn’t actually kind of hurt. Logan’s not holding back, whacking the pillow over Wade’s face like a teenage girl in a bad 80’s horror movie. If said teenage girl had metal bones, weighed over 300 pounds, and had 2 entire centuries of rage trapped inside her body. He tries to deflect, bringing his arms up to protect his face, but Logan just keeps swinging, relentless. He’s half convinced Logan will end up smothering him with it and running away while he regenerates back to life — but really, he can’t complain too much. He’s not being stabbed and there’s no blood to clean up. 

“You’re such a goddamn fucking asshole! I fucking told you not to fucking joke around about this, are you fucking kidding me?” Logan keeps yelling, losing steam with the pillow, holding it now over Wade’s face just like he bet he would. 

Wade flings his arm out, tapping out against Logan’s hip. One, two, three. 

Logan rips the pillow off him, flings it across the room to hover his face over Wade’s, eyes damn near glowing red with his rage. “You better have a good fucking explanation or I swear to god,” he threatens. 

Wade blanches. “Logan—”

A growl cuts him off, pissing him off more than the pillow had. “Will you let me fucking talk? Quit acting like a fucking bitch for three seconds, please .” Wade rolls his eyes, sitting up. 

Logan shuffles back on his knees, giving Wade space to move, snarling quietly and baring his teeth, but seemingly letting Wade have his say. 

He takes a deep breath, making sure to catch Logan’s eye when he finally says, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Logan. It slipped out — but ,” he holds his hands up before Logan can interrupt. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth, or that I didn’t mean it. It was in the heat of the moment, but I swear to you, it wasn’t because of the heat of the moment.” 

Eyes wide, Logan flinches back, nearly toppling onto his ass in between Wade’s spread legs. 

“Whoa,” Wade catches him by the forearms, steadying him. “Hey, easy, Lo. I’m sorry. I really am. You didn’t deserve to hear that for the first time from me like that. But I won’t take it back, or pretend that I didn’t say it.” There’s no point, really. If this was his one shot, cards on the table, he’s almost glad he laid them all out. He’s been in love with Logan for months now, if he’s being honest. And his chest actually feels a little lighter now that he’s gotten to say it; he just hopes it’s not the first and the last. 

“This is— I can’t—,” Logan heaves, breathing roughly, but letting Wade keep a hold of his arms, soothing his thumbs over the inside of his wrists. “Where are my fucking clothes?” He scrambles off the bed, frantic and self conscious, fighting the urge to just fucking find a hole to crawl into a never emerge. 

Fear coils low in Wade’s gut for the first time.  “Are you leaving?” He asks, voice fractured and breaking. His eyes burn. 

A shudder visibly rolls through Logan, muscles of his back twitching as he pulls on his pants, grimacing at the mess between his legs — the mess Wade made between his thighs. It’s too much, too fucking much too goddamn soon. And he doesn’t even know where he’d go if he was leaving because for months now it’s been Wade and him through everything, all of it. At the end of the day it was the two of them; right after the time ripper, after Vanessa turned Wade down weeks later, after Logan admitted he couldn’t face the X-Men yet, after Althea got tired of their shit and moved out last fucking week. He’d started to rely on Wade for more than just a place to live and a chopping block for his claws when he felt like being violent. 

The same sick fear Wade feels is mirrored in Logan’s expression when he moans, “ Wade .” 

He wants the comfort the other provides, wants to go back to the familiarity, the easy way they interacted before, but he knows they can’t do that now. Not after whatever the fuck just happened, happened. He’s done it again, he thinks with disgust, ruined another chance at a home just by being himself. Because Wade’s going to realize that he’s really not lovable soon enough. 

Wade’s eyes are wet, expression open; naked in every sense of the word. 

Logan doesn’t want to keep running. He stumbles over his own feet, drawn back to the bed, back to Wade. 

They meet in the middle, falling into each other. Wade pulls Logan close, into his lap as he buries his face against Wade’s chest, breathing him in. He smells like sex, like Logan, and home. 

Logan wants to bite him, pummel him, and kiss him all at the same time. 

“Say something,” Wade begs. “Say something, please. The silence is fucking suffocating me, Lo.” 

“I need a shower.” 

Wade rubs his back, strokes over his ribs at his sides. He snorts. Leave it to Logan to avoid the topic entirely. 

“Let me clean you up?” He offers lightly. He’d planned on getting his mouth on Logan again to take care of him that way, before he ruined the moment with it, but that’s not what he’s meaning right now. He just doesn’t want to leave Logan for real long, needs his touch and his presence. The weight and warmth of him. He’ll probably ask to sit in the bathroom on the closed toilet lid while Logan showers, if he’ll let him. 

Logan starts to shake his head, no, and Wade clutches him tighter. 

“Don’t, don’t push me away.” 

“It’s just a shower, Wade,” he says, listening to the way Wade’s heart hammers in his chest. His anxious swallow. 

“First, it’s just a shower. Next, it’s avoiding me in the apartment. Then, you’ll be finding excuses to be gone for days, until finally I wake up one morning to realize you’re just gone. Checked out.” 

“It’s not about what you said,” Logan whispers, brutally honest with himself for the first time in so long. “I don’t like this part, after — after. Makes me uncomfortable. Having to um, touch and pay attention to—,” he shivers, cutting himself off. He forgot how low he could get after sex; how fucked up he felt in the aftermath when he had to face himself again, this time without pleasure clouding his thinking, brushing the dysphoria under the rug. He always bolted for a shower after, squeezing his eyes shut to grit his teeth and get through cleaning himself up alone. If he ever let anything get that far with anyone else in the first place. 

“I’m sorry,” Wade says, mouth pressed into Logan’s hair. “Offer to help still stands, but I get it.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

It stings again, but Wade’s almost used to it, knows it’s more to do with the others that came before him than anything he’s done to Logan here and now. Logan just says it like a fact; he’s lax in Wade’s hold right now, loose-limbed and pliant from Wade’s petting. There’s a spot just in front of his lats, in between a couple of his ribs that makes him melt completely, Wade’s learning. Stroking over it lightly with careful fingers. 

He rests his head on Wade’s shoulder, nuzzling on instinct. 

“Sleepy, honey badger?” 

He half expects claws in his side again, but Logan merely shrugs, noncommittal, and for a moment Wade remembers how old he is. 

“Can sleep if you want, you’re safe. I’ll watch over you. In a totally not creepy, not Edward Cullen-like way, I promise.” 

Logan bites gently at the juncture of Wade’s neck and shoulder and it feels affectionate enough that Wade smiles. 

“Piling on my vampire joke?” 

“Still can’t believe you made me watch all of those,” Logan huffs, pulling away from Wade to stand back up. Wade makes an aborted movement to keep him there, but ends up just shaking his hands out like he’s drying them off awkwardly instead. “I’ll be back, a couple minutes at most.” 

“And after that?” 

“Think it’ll be time for Mary’s walk,” Logan answers, not meeting Wade’s eyes, blushing red like it’s not something they do everyday together. 

Wade feels it, too, though. The newness of it. The weight. 

“Sounds like a plan, peanut.” 

He does end up begging to sit in the bathroom while Logan showers, talking incessantly about his next hit, half hoping to entice Logan into joining him on it. He’s been a little stingy with his claws lately, not wanting to share them with Wade. 

Logan doesn’t really reply much, just the occasional grunt or swear when Wade says something particularly asinine. He makes Wade hand him his towel with the shower curtain shut, wrapping it tightly around his waist before stepping out in a cloud of steam, as if they haven’t already fucked, but Wade’s nothing if not respectful of boundaries. He busies himself with studying his nails while Logan swipes a hand through the fog on the mirror, until suddenly Logan’s in his space, leaning up on his tiptoes to brush a prickly kiss to Wade’s cheek. It’s only about two seconds later, though, that he’s shoving at Wade again and making a beeline for the drawer in Wade’s room that houses his clothes. 

“What was that for, peanut?” Wade asks behind the cracked door of his room, not wanting to enter without permission. It’s the least he could fucking do considering Logan doesn’t have his own door to close. 

He nearly tips over when the door wrenches and Logan appears, dressed and blushing. 

“Nothing.” 

Wade gives him a look. Logan didn’t do anything for no reason. He caves. 

“The talking— helped. Took my mind off what I was doing. In the shower.” Jesus, you’d think every word was being pried out of him by a chain attached to the back of a truck, like pulling up a tree stump. 

Wade lights up, inhaling to start rambling again but Logan cuts him off, pulling him down by his shirt to capture his lips in a real kiss this time, full on the mouth. “Best if you shut up now, though,” he mumbles, nipping Wade’s bottom lip. 

Wade sighs dreamily, licking his own blood off Logan’s teeth, “I really do love you. And I’m willing to bet you love me, toooo.” 

Snickt 

Things don’t get awkward again until bedtime, when Wade can’t figure out if he should ask Logan to come sleep in his bed or not; if Logan would even want to do that. Wade spirals as he contemplates what to do. 

Logan, for his part, is no help, tucked into the corner of the couch, dozing with Mary sprawled across his chest. Wade’s stomach hurts with how much he cares about them both; how fucking domestic and perfect the scene is and how much he doesn’t want to fuck it up. 

He stands quietly, resolving to just go to bed alone, leave Logan and Puppins to sleep peacefully. He tries not to jump out of his skin when Logan’s hand shoots out, clutching at his wrist to stop him. 

“Y’goin’ to bed?” He slurs, barely blinking his eyes open, free arm curling around Mary to keep her held to his chest. Wade can’t help himself, brushing his hand through Logan’s kitty ears sweetly. 

“Yeah,” Wade whispers, hushed and halting, “I was.” 

“M’kay,” Logan lets his wrist go, cupping his hands around Mary like she’s a small baby and leaning over to deposit her on the couch cushion next to him, never disturbing her sleep. He stands after, stretching his arms long above his head next to Wade, who’s speechless and staring. Eyes darting to the strip of stomach revealed under the edge of Logan’s tank top riding up. He shuffles around Wade into the bathroom — the sound of the faucet running shortly after, leaving a dumbstruck Wade to mutely get ready for bed himself. 

He barely breathes as Logan enters the bedroom, sliding under Wade’s covers like he’s done it a million times, he scoots closer to Wade’s side, radiating warmth. 

“Peanut?” 

Logan hums in answer, eyes closed, but listening. 

“Are you my boyfriend now?” 

Logan’s nose wrinkles adorably in slight disgust. He growls. 

“Alright, how about partner, can we be partners? More than the ‘in crime’ kind, though that still applies.” 

“Better,” he murmurs, grabbing Wade’s waist to pull him close, tugging Wade into him as the little spoon. All five fucking feet of him behind Wade’s back, snug like the cuddliest koala bear and Wade’s the eucalyptus tree. 

“Say that again, I think I just came when you manhandled me.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan nips at his ear in punishment, tightening his arms. He grinds his hips just barely against Wade’s ass, making himself comfortable. He sighs when he’s settled, breath fanning across the side of Wade’s face making him shiver. “Go to sleep.” 

Wade doesn’t remember actually falling asleep, when he wakes up next it’s morning, and Logan’s hand is down his pants. 

Not like that, except kind of like that. 

Wade’s hard as a rock, tenting his pajama pants obscenely, and Logan’s hand has drifted on his lower stomach, down to just barely brush the base of his cock, slipping in between the gap of fabric and Wade’s sleep-warm skin. 

Logan stirs awake behind him, nuzzling the back of his neck softly, “g’mornin’.” His voice is rough and low, rasping pleasantly in Wade’s ear. God, his morning voice is always fucking sexy, but here, in Wade’s bed it’s on another level entirely. He can’t quite fight the quiet moan rising in his chest at Logan’s presence. 

He sweeps his hand up Wade’s stomach, scratches over scars lightly with his nails before trailing it back down with intent, this time aware of his actions. Wade’s hips twitch under the attention. 

“Y’want it, baby?” Logan mumbles against his skin, sleepy and perfect and Wade’s now, against all odds, after yesterday. His fingertips graze Wade’s cock again, seeking but waiting for permission. 

“Fuck, Lo, please,” Wade groans, pitching higher when Logan takes him in hand, stroking him slowly, base to tip. He’s leaking an embarrassing amount, enough that Logan’s hand is slick after a few easy passes, making it so fucking good. 

Logan rumbles his appreciation, mouthing at Wade’s shoulder and purring quietly in his ear. “S’good, Wade. Bein’ good.” 

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck . Wade whimpers, bucking into Logan’s touch desperately. 

It’s over too quickly, Wade’s overexcited and pent up despite their activities yesterday. It’s been so long before that and living with Logan, his walking, talking wet dream come to life has been tough. 

Logan’s a good sport about it, though, kissing behind his ear and stroking him through it sweetly, “you’re pretty when you come for me, darlin’.” 

Wade grabs his wrist when he comes, digging his nails into Logan’s thick forearm, holding on for dear life. Yeah, they did much more intense things yesterday, but this is newly labeled, slept spooning each other the night before stuff, way more than some ordinary handjob. He thinks he’s going to pass out when Logan brings his hand up, licking Wade’s mess off himself with his pretty pink tongue. 

Fantasies write and rewrite in Wade’s reeling mind with the new information about Logan he just gathered. If Wade’s right, he’s got everything he could ever want with Logan now — the sweet, subby kitty who begged to come and demanded cuddles after Wade ate him out and now this new, more dominant Wolverine he’d been expecting before they did anything. 

He rolls over and kisses Logan, tasting himself on his tongue and cupping his fuzzy cheeks in soft hands, already thinking about returning the favor. He thinks things can’t get any better until Logan nips his bottom lip, pulling back a little to say, “love you, Mouth.” 

And everything’s perfect.

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