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Logan sat on the couch, a mug of coffee in his hand as he quietly observed the morning routine unfolding in front of him. Wade had strolled into the living room and kitchen area without a care in the world, completely oblivious to the effect his choice of clothing—or lack thereof—was having on Logan.
Wade was dressed in what could only be described as the smallest pair of shorts Logan had ever seen. The shorts were so brief that they barely covered half of Wade’s ass, leaving his legs and the curve of his lower back exposed. The tank top wasn’t much better, stopping short of meeting the waistband of the shorts and leaving a strip of Wade’s midsection completely bare. The muscles in his arms and torso, usually tight and toned, were relaxed, giving his body a softness that contrasted with his obvious strength.
Logan couldn’t tear his eyes away. He knew he should look anywhere else, but something about the way Wade looked in those clothes—strong yet soft, full of vulnerability—was undeniably captivating. The way the muscles in Wade’s back moved as he leaned against the kitchen counter, the slight swell of his stomach as he stretched lazily, the curve of his thighs as the fabric of the shorts hugged them just right... Logan felt a warmth spreading through his chest, something more than just simple attraction. It was an appreciation for Wade, for everything he was, for the trust he put in Logan to see him like this.
Had Wade gained a bit of weight? Logan couldn’t help but notice the subtle changes. Wade’s body had filled out a bit more in recent months, the soft layer of fat adding a new dimension to his already impressive physique. Logan found himself oddly proud of that. Wade had been living on the bare minimum before they started spending more time together—barely eating anything other than junk food, sometimes going entire days with just a single Pop-Tart for sustenance. Logan had made it his mission to change that, even if it meant nagging Wade every now and then to eat something other than sugar and processed snacks.
Logan had taken it upon himself to make sure Wade ate better, at least marginally. He would remind Wade to eat, often preparing meals himself and practically shoving plates into Wade’s hands. At first, Wade had resisted, joking about Logan playing housewife or being a mother hen, but eventually, he started to eat more regularly. The change was gradual, almost imperceptible at first, but now, seeing Wade like this, Logan could see the difference. Wade looked... healthier. Stronger. There was a fullness to him that hadn’t been there before, and Logan couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride knowing he’d played a part in that.
Wade, completely unaware of Logan’s internal monologue, was casually rummaging through the kitchen, grabbing a cup of premade (by Logan) morning black coffee. He leaned against the counter, his back to Logan, and the movement caused the tank top to ride up even more, exposing more of his lower back. The shorts clung to him in a way that was both tantalizing and maddening, showing off the curve of his ass in a way that made Logan’s breath catch in his throat.
Logan cleared his throat, trying to snap himself out of the trance he’d fallen into. He was used to Wade being, well, Wade—loud, obnoxious, always the center of attention. But this... this was different. Wade wasn’t trying to be sexy or provocative. He was just being himself, completely at ease in his own skin, and that, Logan realized, was what made him so damn attractive.
“Morning,” Logan finally said, his voice gruffer than he intended as he took a sip of his coffee.
Wade turned to face him, a grin spreading across his face as he spotted Logan on the couch. “Morning, sunshine! Sleep well? Or were you too busy purring like a little kitty cat?” Wade teased, taking a loud sip of his coffee. "That's right, I heard you last night. You like when I cuddle you that much, peanut?"
Logan rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t suppress the small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”
“Not a chance, bub,” Wade shot back, the corners of his lips lifted beautifully.
Logan’s eyes flicked down to the strip of exposed skin between Wade’s tank top and shorts, then quickly back up to Wade’s face, hoping he hadn’t been caught staring. But, of course, Wade caught everything.
“What’s the matter, Logan?” Wade asked, his tone playful, taking the whole advantage of the slip up. “You checking out the merchandise?” He struck a ridiculous pose, jutting out his hip and winking exaggeratedly.
Logan huffed, trying to play it cool, but the truth was, Wade wasn’t wrong. Logan had been checking him out, and for once, he wasn’t even sure how to deflect or deny it.
“Maybe I’m just making sure you’re not falling apart,” Logan grumbled, his voice lower than usual. “You’ve actually been eating decent food for a change. It’s a miracle you haven’t wasted away on me.”
Wade blinked, taken aback by the unexpected compliment buried in Logan’s words. He glanced down at himself, as if noticing his own body for the first time. “So, what you’re saying is... you’ve been keeping tabs on me, huh? Making sure your investment’s paying off?”
Logan shot him a look that was somewhere between exasperation and fondness. “Something like that. Just trying to keep you alive, Wade.”
Logan's gruff response hung in the air, the underlying affection in his words not lost on Wade, though the mercenary was quick to mask his reaction with a light chuckle. "Literally can’t die, remember?” Wade quipped, his tone playful but with that familiar edge of deflection. “Pretty sure I’m the last guy you need to worry about keeping alive, Logan.”
Despite the nonchalance in Wade’s voice, Logan could see the way he quickly turned away, heading straight for the pile of laundry on the kitchen table. It was an odd contrast—Wade with his barely-there gaze, now folding clothes with a surprising amount of focus and precision. Logan knew this wasn’t about getting chores done. Wade always needed something to do with his hands when things got a little too real, when someone showed him a level of care he wasn’t quite used to.
Logan watched as Wade meticulously folded a shirt, smoothing out the creases with an intensity that belied the simplicity of the task. It was almost amusing, the way Wade could face down the most dangerous situations without flinching, yet the idea of someone genuinely caring for him was something he didn’t quite know how to handle.
For a moment, Logan considered letting it go, allowing Wade to bury himself in the mundane task to avoid the deeper conversation lurking beneath the surface. But something in him couldn’t just let it slide. Wade might be practically immortal, but Logan knew all too well that physical invincibility didn’t mean you couldn’t be hurt.
“Wade,” Logan said, his voice quieter now, cutting through the soft rustle of fabric as Wade folded another shirt.
Wade didn’t look up, his hands still busy, though his movements slowed just slightly. “Yeah, what’s up, Logan?” he asked, trying to sound casual but unable to completely hide the slight tension in his voice.
Logan got up from the couch, moving to stand next to Wade. He reached for a towel from the pile, folding it alongside Wade, their arms brushing slightly. “You know,” Logan began, his tone careful, “just because you can’t die doesn’t mean you don’t need looking after.”
Wade snorted softly, shaking his head as he folded another towel with a bit more force than necessary. “You’re getting all sappy on me, Logan. What’s next, a group hug? Maybe we can braid each other’s hair too?”
Logan rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance in the gesture. He knew this was Wade’s way of deflecting, of avoiding the vulnerability that came with the kind of care Logan was trying to offer. “Cut the crap, Wade. You know what I mean.”
Wade paused, the shirt in his hands half-folded, and for a moment, Logan thought he might actually drop the sarcasm and deflection. But instead, Wade just shrugged, the movement casual but his eyes avoiding Logan’s. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just... not used to it, is all.”
There it was. Logan knew Wade well enough by now to understand the weight of those few words. Wade might joke about his inability to die, but there was more to it than that. The merc with a mouth had built walls around himself—walls that were as tough as his healing factor, but just as capable of being worn down with time and persistence. Logan understood it a little to well.
Logan sighed, not entirely sure how to respond. He wasn’t the best at this kind of thing—emotions and all that—but he figured that just being there, sticking around, was a good start. “Well, get used to it,” Logan said, his voice gruff but not unkind. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
Wade finally looked up at him, a small, almost hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Is that a threat or a promise, bub?”
“Both,” Logan replied, his tone softening as he reached out to take the next piece of laundry from the pile. He could feel Wade relax just a fraction beside him, the tension in his shoulders easing as they continued folding clothes together in companionable silence.
It was a small thing, really—folding laundry, standing side by side in a kitchen that felt more like home with each passing day. But Logan knew that for Wade, it was these moments that mattered. The quiet, unspoken gestures of care and the simple act of being there, even when Wade tried to brush it off with a joke or a sarcastic comment.
They worked through the pile of laundry together, the silence between them comfortable now, filled with the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional brush of their arms as they reached for the next item. Logan could see Wade’s focus shifting, not as intent on the task at hand but more at ease, a subtle shift that told Logan he was doing something right, even if Wade would never say it outright.
When they were done, Wade stood there for a moment, his hands resting on the neatly folded stack of clothes. He glanced at Logan, his expression thoughtful, as if considering whether to say something more. But instead, he just smiled—genuinely this time, no hint of sarcasm or deflection—and nodded.
“Thanks, Logan,” Wade said quietly, and for once, there was no joke or quip to follow.
Logan wasn’t sure how to respond to Wade’s simple, sincere thanks. It was so unlike Wade to be so direct, so genuine. For a few seconds, he just stood there, searching for words that wouldn’t come. He wasn’t good at this, at acknowledging moments like this, where the truth of how much they mattered to each other hung heavy in the air.
“Yeah, well… someone’s gotta keep an eye on you,” Logan finally muttered, his voice rough, the words not nearly enough to capture what he was feeling. His eyes shifted away as if he could avoid the weight of Wade’s gaze. He didn’t know what to do with the quiet gratitude in Wade’s eyes, the unspoken acknowledgment of how much Logan had come to mean to him.
Wade chuckled softly, but there was no usual deflection, no joke to lighten the moment. He just stood there, watching Logan with a kind of quiet understanding that made Logan’s chest feel tight. Wade’s eyes softened, and for a moment, Logan saw past all the bravado and wisecracks to the man beneath—a man who wasn’t used to being cared for, but who was starting to understand that maybe he deserved it.
“Logan…” Wade started, then hesitated. Words weren’t easy for either of them, especially not words like this. He swallowed, looking down at his hands before back at Logan. There was a moment of awkward silence, where neither of them knew what to say or do.
But then Wade stepped closer, the movement hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how Logan would react. Logan stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden proximity. He didn’t pull away, though. Something in Wade’s expression—an unspoken question, a need for connection—kept him rooted in place.
Wade’s hand came up slowly, almost like he was giving Logan time to move away, but Logan didn’t. Instead, he stood there as Wade’s fingers lightly touched the back of his head, guiding him closer until Logan’s forehead was resting against Wade’s collarbone.
Logan’s breath hitched, a flood of emotions rising up in him that he wasn’t prepared for. The simple, almost hesitant embrace reminded him of something he hadn’t felt in a long time—family. For a brief, painful moment, he remembered the X-Men, the almost-family he once had, the feeling of belonging, of being part of something bigger than himself. And now, here he was, in this tiny apartment, with this infuriating, ridiculous man who somehow managed to mean everything to him.
Logan’s hands found their way to Wade’s sides, gripping him tightly as he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He closed his eyes, his head hiding in the crook of Wade’s neck as if he could ground himself in the warmth of Wade’s body. It wasn’t the same as what he’d lost, but it was something real, something that mattered just as much.
Wade stayed still, letting Logan take what he needed, his other hand slowly gripping the back of Logan's shirt. It was a quiet moment, but it spoke more than either of them could put into words. Wade was offering something he rarely gave—himself, fully, without the masks or jokes—and Logan was accepting it, even though it scared him to need someone this much again.
“Wade…” Logan’s voice was low, rough with emotion, but he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Didn’t know how to say what this meant to him, how much Wade meant to him.
Wade just tightened his hold slightly, his own head gently resting against Logan’s. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not going anywhere.”
Logan didn’t move for a long time, letting the emotions wash over him as he clung to Wade. He felt a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years, a quiet acceptance that maybe, just maybe, this was where he was meant to be. Wade wasn’t just someone to look after, someone to keep alive. He was more than that. He was everything.