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Wade comes back to consciousness slumped over his knees, body in a heap on what remains of the metal platform they had stood on only minutes ago, or maybe it was hours. His head pounds and the room is a wreck around them, tipping this way and that as some sort of head trauma heals itself. Who knew how much time had passed. Time is a weird enough concept without Madonna and her choir in the background. He coughs, lifting his mask high enough to spit out a glob of blood, likely caused by the internal damage that accompanied the melting of one's atoms.
He looks around, coming to terms with the fact that he’s still in one piece, and the fact that he had Logan to thank for it. He knew he was a hero! But he was still a jackass for not listening to Wade. You can take an animal out of the wild and all that, or however the hell the saying went. He lets himself roll to lay on his back, overcome with the feeling of his body knitting back together, though he isn’t sure what’s left to fix.
The idea that it could be something on an atomic level makes something squirm in the back of his consciousness, like if he focuses too long on the fact his brain will melt out of his ears just from inspecting the fact that he’s just a mess of atoms in a world of atoms, insignificant in a universe of, you guessed it, atoms . He makes a noise, sighing until it turns into a groan deep enough to come from his very bones.
“Hooooo boy, you naughty kitten. You were supposed to let me sacrifice myself, you bitch.”
There’s no response, just the glug glug glug of water running from broken pipes and the hiss and snap of live wires popping in the dark.
Wade looks around, a bolt of panic racing down his spine. There’s no grouchy reply, no bitten off curse from a gravel-deep voice.
“Oooooooh Peanut?” He rolls over onto his stomach, feet kicking into the air behind him. “What, no lecture or dead inside fueled comment? My favorite is the snark from your alcohol withdrawal. That one’s always extra mean.” He waits a moment before he pulls himself to his feet, leaning over a broken railing. “You better not be fucking dead!”
Silence
“Wolvie? You better answer me or you’re fucking grounded, so help me Dad!”
His voice is lit up with a half hysterical laugh at the edge, the rational part of his brain trying not to dwell on the possibility that something had happened to Logan. That Wade couldn’t even manage the act of sacrifice himself right. That he somehow fucked up yet again, leaving Logan to split into billions upon billions of atoms, again with the fucking atoms , the beauty of his abs too beautiful for the world. “Logan!?”
There’s a groan from below and Wade scrambles to the twisted edge of the platform, peering over the edge, eyes roving over the mess of water and wreckage that lays on the room’s floor. Electricity sparks from somewhere and he finds Logan with the help of his yellow pants, the material glowing in the pop of light and shining like a beacon in the dark space.
“ Ah shit , be right there.”
Logan’s alive, which is great! But, his healing works faster than Wade’s, so the fact that he isn’t upright on his own is a little concerning. Wade scrambles down to the next level, earning a handful of superficial wounds that heal in an instant by the time he makes it to Logan's side, whistling at the sight that greets him.
The Wolverine was lucky enough to be the winner of a healthy shard of metal spearing through his shoulder, keeping him pinned in standing water with just enough clearance to breathe. Logan’s head lulls as he joins him in the world of the living, brow furrowing and subvocal growl rumbling in his chest as his eyes fall on Wade.
He kicks at one of his feet with a red boot, waiting for Logan to wake up a bit more before he gets within scratching distance. Wade has a feeling the TVA was going to be up their ass as soon as they managed to crawl their way out of this shit hole, and the longer he could put that off, the better. Harassing Logan is a good distraction from that train of thought though.
“C’mon, up you get sleepy kitten. We’ve got places to be and more shit to fuck up!”
Logan raises a hand just to give him the finger, and Wade wags his pointer finger back as if scolding him.
“Not in these conditions Sugartits, I'm way over due for my tetanus shot. C’mon.”
Logan shakes his head, mannerisms all animal, like a bear rousing from a deep sleep. He repeats the action once more before reaching a hand up to Wade, then the other.
“Get me out of this hellhole.”
Wade steps forward and takes both of Logan’s hands in his own, pulling as he steps back. There’s a wet schucking noise accompanying the splash of blood as Logan’s body is pulled free from the metal impaling him, the weight of his body nearly toppling Wade before they find a counter balance that gets them both upright.
Logan shakes off like a dog, starting with his head and sending droplets of filthy water in all directions before flicking his arms and hands, ridding himself of as much water as he can without a towel. Drops catch in the hair that runs from his pecks down, collecting to form what Wade knows from experience, is a delicious happy trail. Despite the shaking, Logan still finds himself covered in a substantial layer of grime, some combination of building debris and muddy water.
Wade drags a gloved finger across his bicep, revealing a clean stripe of skin in its wake. He makes a noise of disgust, laughing with the relief that they actually survived.
“ Yuck . You need to be sprayed down with a hose. It’s like a dog who dug himself a hole he shouldn’t have.”
Logan shoves him away with a glare.
“Yeah, just like you shouldn’t have been in here to begin with either, Bub.”
He talks with little heat and Wade is all too happy to pull one of Logan’s arms over his shoulder as he sways, making him lean on his thinner frame as Wade does his best to lead them towards the surface world. Logan grunts out his thanks, but remains mostly quiet as they eventually stumble out into the hall they had originally entered from, now a mess with fallen stone and other debris.
Wade whistles as he takes in the dented remains of the door, now laying on the opposite wall, the destroyed locking mechanism paired with the slash marks cutting through metal that could have only been made by Logan’s claws. The determination stirs something in him that he doesn't know how to label, the desperation Logan had had to reach him rocking him on his back foot. He could have easily let him do it alone and fail, fall into the void with the rest of the poor souls from every universe. But instead, Logan fought through what should have been impenetrable steel to try and save the world at Wade’s side, even if it killed him. But with everything, he writes it off with a joke, tamping his clogged garbage disposal full of feelings down beneath a laugh.
“Jaws of life got nothing on you, Peanut.”
Wade tries to lighten the moon, but only receives silence. Not even a groan or growl of irritation. Maybe Logan was worse off than he thought. They shuffle down the hall like it’s the world’s slowest, three legged race, feet dragging with exhaustion and the weight of heavy thoughts.
Logan turns on him about halfway down the hall, stopping for a moment and seeming to think on his next move before he bodily shoves Wade into the wall, pinning him at both shoulders. His claws cut into him agonizingly slowly, the delivery of pain intentional as they embed themselves in the wall at his back, locking him in place. Wade is literally trapped between a wall, and if he’s right about Logan, maybe a hard place.
He opens his mouth to say as much but quickly finds himself with a facefull of Logan’s skull as he headbutts him, visibly seething as he pulls back. He repeats the action before Wade can so much as spit out a tooth, pulling back with a smear of blood on his forehead as he snarls in Wade’s face, not even an inch separating them.
“What the fuck were you thinking back there, locking me out? You could have lost fucking everything if I hadn't come in and saved your ass!”
Wade’s eyebrows would be furrowing if he even had any, but he rolls his eyes, shaking his head, definitely not deflecting.
“Maybe self sacrifice was the point all along.”
“Well you got the bonus plan, Bub.”
“Yeah seems like it, couldn't let me have all the glory could ya, you vain bitch.” His smile is lopsided, but Logan can smell the panic on him, maybe the building realization of what they had just survived, what could have happened if Logan hadn’t been able to complete the circuit. “I knew you were a hero when I pulled you out of that bar.”
Logan wants to say nothing and everything, breath stuck in his chest, feeling as if he’s choking on the words that race a mile a minute in his mind. He’s not even sure what he's feeling at the moment, riding the high of survival and the panic of what could possibly come next.
As usual though, Logan sinks under the shelter of violence as what a shrink would probably call a defense mechanism, lashing out with the confusing storm of emotions twisting themselves into a hot rage. He retracts one of his sets of claws, keeping Wade pinned with the other as his free hand moves lightning fast, slapping Wade so hard something dislocates in his jaw. A swift backhanded strike across the other cheek brutally resets the joint with a pop just before Wade’s mask is yanked up over his nose and he’s being kissed without a second of hesitation, the clash of their mouths something angry and savage, Logan too lost to keep his fangs in check. Wade responds sluggishly, trying to speak between the press of lips.
“Pea-mph!”
Logan doesn’t give him the chance, only pulls away to sink his teeth into Wade’s throat, too sharp teeth biting through the collar of the suit just so he can feel the meat of him give way beneath his too sharp teeth. The hot spill of blood, of living and breathing life falling copper strong on his tongue. He bites and bites and bites, loving how Wade takes it, and hating it in the same breath, wanting him to resist, to fight, to stop Logan from the brutal conquest that he’s waging over his body. His mouth is bloody when he pulls back to speak, staring into the white eyes of Wade’s mask.
“You ever do something like that again, I’ll fucking kill you Wade.”
He wishes he could see Wade's eyes, see if he’s just as scared on the other side of this as Logan. But part of him is terrified of what he might see, what it will mean outside of this dark hallway.
But of course Wade brushes him off, never one to take anything about himself seriously lest he do some much needed but unwanted soul searching.
“I don't know if you can babe, I've tried that a few times.”
Something rings hollow in it and Logan knows they’ll unpack that later one way or another, even if he has to claw the details out of Wade by force
“Don't give me a reason to find one that sticks.”
Logan pulls his claws free and yanks Wade closer with a hand on his belt. He eagerly meets him this time, kissing back with a matching fierceness until Logan is doing anything in his power to stop the whine forming in the back of his throat from bubbling free.
He wants to bury himself deep below Wade’s scarred skin, carve a place for himself beneath his ribs and nestle like some creature building a burrow alongside his beating heart. The thought terrifies him, that he could want and need someone so much after such a short amount of time knowing him. That he could disappoint the one person he feels he can be his true self around.
Logan distracts himself by grabbing at Wade’s ass with both hands, palming him roughly before he’s lifting him with little effort. Wade’s thighs are a grounding pressure as they grip his waist in a vicious show of strength, and the force of it would probably have given Logan a cracked rib if not for the metal coating his bones. He digs his fingers into the other mutants ass as he shoves his back into the wall, dust and mortar raining down as he begins rocking his hips up with a growl.
“ You fucking idiot , you don’t even deserve this after that stunt you pulled back there.”
Wade barks out a laugh.
“Like I’m going to let another Wolverine try that self sacrifice bullshit, nice try.” He lifts a hand to take Logan’s hair in a harsh grip, guiding him by the back of the head to bare his throat. “But maybe you should punish me, not that I'm capable of learning a lesson.”
“I should punish you. Get myself off and leave you like this, though knowing you it won’t take much to get you off you little shit.”
Wade whines and he rocks against Logan, matching his rhythm. His free hand comes up to take a handful of his pecks, tweaking one nipple, then the other until Logan is all but slamming him into the wall with the power of his thrusts.
“Fuck me, in the name of me, fuck me in the ass before I die. ”
A bolt of primal want cuts through Logan like a knife, the feeling leaving him in a high whine that spills from his lips. Omegas hooked up on an occasion, would fuck others, but to have Wade want it for pleasure instead of necessity, to want to be fucked by Logan without the social laws or expectation and just because he wanted it and asked for it. It stirs something possessive in him.
“Not here, not like this . I’m going to take my time and savor it when I get your ass. Work it until you’re begging for my cock and then keep going.”
It sets something frantic off between them, mouths meeting once more as they arch and grind into each other, racing along that razor's edge of adrenaline and pleasure. Logan can feel the press of Wade’s cock through their suits, smell the arousal seeping from their pores and into the air. His cunt leakes slick like a faucet, a faint squelch accompanying each rock of his hips with the sheer amount of it as his cock rubs the inside of his uniform just on the right side of uncomfortable, tightly pressed between leather and his own skin. They rut against each other like beasts, grunts and groans broken up by heaving breaths and biting kisses.
A brutal twist of his nipple takes him by surprise, pushing him over the edge and into a back arching orgasm. His hair catches on the edge of Wade's mask as he nips at the curve of his ear, panting nonsensical praise as he talks Logan through wave after wave of release. He works his hips through it, shivering with each too sensitive thrust until Wade is going stiff above him, a choked off noise accompanying his own release. Logan aches to lift him higher, sling his legs over his shoulders so he can bury his face between Wade’s thighs until every sense is drowning in him. But they don't have time for that.
He tries to drop him after their breathing has evened out, but Wade’s grip is too good, too tight around his waist as his stubbled cheeks are peppered with kisses. Logan snarls and snaps his teeth in warning, but Wade just moves annoyingly out of reach, his gloved hands moving this way and that through his chest hair.
“Fine, you wanna go out there like this? Doesn't bother me, Bub.” Wade gets lucky, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose before he loosens his legs, gracefully hopping to the ground. “Like they could handle us like this. Nu-uh only I get to see my honey badger all cute like this.”
Logan walks away while he’s still talking, clinging to the orgasmic haze he’s got lingering. Wade catches up easily with a few long strides and stops him with a hand on his chest, immediately putting Logan on edge. His senses still feel as if they are running on overdrive, heightened further from the power that had been conducted through his very atoms just a few minutes ago. He lowers his voice, trying to pick up on whatever had gotten Wade’s attention.
“What?”
“Listen.”
Paradox’s voice trickles down the hall, echoed and tinny in the destroyed space. He’s covering his ass, or attempting to, by the sound of it. Logan isn't a stranger to these organizations, knows that he’ll probably get away with it in the end with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. It sours something in him, his claws inching out of his flesh with irritation. Wade apparently is of the same thought as the white eyes of his mask narrow with irritation.
“I hate that asshole, I’m going to ruin his goddamn life.”
Logan smirks. “We could kill him.” And Wade seems to consider it, doing some manner of mental gymnastics that gives Logan enough time to realize he may have actually found something like a kindred spirit with this lunatic. Wade makes a dismissive noise, ultimately waving him off.
“Put that option on the back burner, I’m going to give this a dramatic pause and fuck his shit up first. We’ll see where that takes us.”
Good enough for Logan.
They hear the words drift down the hall, clear in the quiet that follows any disaster. Paradox’s voice is somber, tinted with an artificial grief even Logan can pick up as fake.
“Anyways, there's nothing you or I can do about it…”
A somber silence takes hold and Logan can only watch as Wade creeps to the corner, just out of sight of the agents they had encountered earlier. Wade cups his hands around his mouth as if he isn’t loud enough, and Logan shakes his head with a smile he refuses to label as fond. Wade pulls down his mask and opens his mouth before shouting.
“He has risen babygirl!”
There’s a beat of silence before they hear Paradox’s shout of disbelief.
“Fuck!”
As if timed, a severed wire flashes behind them as they step out of hiding, matching strides as they walk to meet their fate with the TVA. Wade takes over talking without hesitation, introducing him as the new anchor being and Logan can’t stop himself from chiming in. He levels Paradox with a glare, and takes pleasure in the way he flinches back a step.
“No thanks to you, ya piece of shit.”
There’s a low murmur of appreciation before the woman at the console speaks up with a nod, eyeing Logan with interest.
“Fine indeed.”
She draws the words out, and Logan tilts his head, not sure what to make of the appraisal and the accompanying flush of heat that comes with it. He’s pulled out of his own thoughts as Wade slaps a sweater into his chest, exasperated.
“Put your greasy tits away, you preening slut.”
Logan stands a bit straighter, definitely not preening as he hands off his mask to what is undeniably another admirer, unable to stop the smirk on his face as he slips on the TVA sweater. The attention is a novelty, the fact that it irritated Wade is just an added bonus. The eyes of Wade’s mask narrow at the woman at the consol. Is he jealous? The thought thrills him more than he expects it to and irritation bleeds into Wade's scent. Logan knows the coming quip is a lie before Wade even opens his mouth, a tactic of defense or deflection.
“I only agree to share if I have two weeks' notice and access to my chuck chair.”
Logan has no interest in sharing in whatever this mess turns into, and tries to remind himself of the fact that Wade has an ex waiting in the city somewhere. Does he still plan on winning her back? It makes something sour in his gut as he zips up the sweater over his sweat damp skin.
He basks in the attention though, the possessiveness of it, even as more TVA forces enter the crowded space. But Wade is defending him without a moment’s pause, as well as the people they left behind. And Logan can only stare at him as Wade calls attention to his own choices, asking for his life, his family, to be given back and made whole once more.
And Logan panics because the chance of going back could be right in front of him, but that would mean losing Wade. The thought in itself sends a flash of fear through him, and it’s something he doesn't have near enough time to unpack in the time it takes for the TVA agents to let him down easy. His heart breaks, and grief settles over him like a blanket. But it’s like the irritation of an old wound at this point. There seems to be something easier about the choice being made for him, for something out in the vast spread of universes to say you belong right here.
He’s thankful when Wade suggests food, happy to focus on something else.
They sit on a bench that creaks under their combined weight, only a few inches of space keeping them from touching as they watch the clean up effort of the earlier fight. The silence stretches and sags like pulled taffy, and Logan knows if he stays any longer he’ll end up begging to stay, something his pride can’t handle even with the omega howling inside him about finding everything he could want in a Mate sitting on the bench next to him. He answers Wade without truly thinking on it, doing his best to hastily build up old walls lest they crumble further.
“-see you around?” Wade’s eyes are earnest, his smile hopeful as he looks at Logan like the hero he used to be seen as. “Probably not.” He presses his mouth into a firm line, making himself watch the other, feeling the pain as his rejection settles as its own punishment. It’s the best choice. “See you, Bub.”
Logan stands and scoops up his cowl, tucking it into his side as he pitches what remains of his lunch into the garbage. His appetite is gone with the feeling of Wade at his side, and he knows he’ll be knee deep in a bottle before the sun even sets. He’s half way down the block before he hears Wade call out, and it stops him in his tracks.
“Logan!”
Call it a lesson learned the hard way that he doesn't take another step, doesn’t break into a run just to get away from the terror of confusing feelings storming inside him. He gives it a moment before he moves, turning slowly to look at Wade and his stupid dog.
“Come home with me?”
Logan doesn’t know what to expect walking into Wade's apartment, but it fits him nonetheless. There’s an uneven table with too many mismatched chairs, and a worn couch with too many throw blankets to be owned by any sane person. Pictures hang lopsided on faded wallpaper, a whiplash worthy collection of fine art and cartoon drawings. He shuts the door behind him and cant stop himself from thinking about something Jean had said years ago, hitting like it was yesterday and decades ago all at once.
“Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan. They don't bring him home. They marry the good guy.”
The earnest want he had felt to be the good guy for her, to be good enough. Jean was everything anyone could want in an Alpha, while Logan was a sorry excuse for an Omega. He tried anyways, wanted to flay himself open to show how much he wanted to try for her. To show how they could start their own pack with Scott.
“I can be the good guy.”
She had only smiled, a soft pitying thing and shaken her head before she turned, walking away.
He used to want to be wanted, aching so badly to be good enough to be taken home and have a home as his own. But that want and the hopes that came with them died a long time ago.
Still, he hates the kindling of want as Wade calls out to his roommate, distracts himself by looking around the space with open curiosity. The small space smells of burnt coffee and polished metal, the source of the latter being the obscene amount of weapons Logan spots on every surface. The light is soft where it comes in the windows, and he can hear the ruined bus being towed off down the street. Logan eyes the white dusting on the kitchen table, brows rising when he realizes Wade wasn’t joking about the cocaine. He opens his mouth to ask about it when the roommate in question shuffles towards them from the kitchen, surefooted despite her impaired vision.
He meets Wade’s eye with a nod as he’s introduced, and Althea’s hand is warm in his grasp as they shake in greeting. There’s no stopping it as building fatigue lets the laugh slip free at dogpool's description, and he's shaking his head, not even able to argue with the all too accurate description.
The voices are still there, still calling out to him, but it’s harder to hear them over Wade and Al’s laughter.