Work Text:
When Logan first moved into Wade and Al’s apartment, Wade had insisted that they share the bed.
“What kind of host would I be if I let you sleep on that old, rickety, cum-stained mattress?” He had gasped, gesturing to the pull-out bed in the living room.
Logan rolled his eyes and grunted.
“Slept on worse. ‘Sides, I know if we share a bed, you’ll make some dumb-fuck sex joke.”
Wade shrugged and gave him that stupid shit-eating grin that always made Logan’s chest feel tight.
Logan slept on the couch for a bit, but he would always wake up in a cold sweat, throat raw from crying out for help he never expected he’d get. But just like Logan always came to thrashing and screaming, Wade, almost like clockwork, would be right at his side, rubbing his back as he sat beside him on the edge of the bed. Logan hated it. He hated how he was getting used to it, he hated how he found himself looking around for Wade when he shot up from bed, and most of all, he hated how he felt his guard dropping day by day. He knew what it was like to get attached to someone. He knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. And even if he didn’t “love” Wade, he, at the very least, recognized the comfort he felt as being akin to the feeling.
At some point, the pull-out bed was folded back up and abandoned in favor of Logan sleeping on the floor of Wade’s room. Once again, the idea of sharing the bed came up, and once again, it was shot down by Logan with a resounding “no.” It was more than just a pride thing, more than just wanting to avoid Wade’s jokes. It was a fear that cut through him like white-hot metal: That he would lose Wade, and he would have to learn how to live alone again.
It started as a normal evening from Logan’s perspective.
Logan had made dinner that night for the three of them. Normally, they would all sit in the living room, and he and Al would listen to one of Wade’s rants on whatever piqued his interest that day. Logan would be lying if he said he didn’t find it at least a little endearing.
However, once dinner was served and everyone was sitting on the couch, the room was heavy with an unusual silence. Wade sat on the end of the couch furthest from Al, curled in on himself. He poked his food absentmindedly, seemingly lost in thought. Logan kept glancing over at him as he took bites of the chicken on his plate. After about ten minutes, Al was the one who said something.
“If you aren’t planning on talking, at least turn the goddamn television on. I can’t stand the sound of you motherfuckers chewing,” she snapped.
Logan tossed her the remote at the same time that Wade stood up.
“I, uh, I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow,” he said flatly. He turned to Logan and forced a small smile. “Thank you for dinner.”
And with that, he stood up and left. Logan could hear him put his dish in the sink before heading up the stairs to his room.
Loga ran a hand down his face, sighing heavily.
“Fuck, Al, what the fuck is going on with him?”
“He gets like this sometimes,” she shrugged. “It’ll pass.”
Logan gritted his teeth. “And what? In the meantime I’m just supposed to let him act all fuckin’ mopey?”
She sighed, shaking her head. “You know Wade. He bounces back quickly. I wouldn’t worry too much.”
He grunted in lieu of a response, but his mind was churning faster than he could comprehend. Appetite gone, he stood up with his plate in hand.
“I’m going to check on him. You okay here?”
Al snorted. “I’m not a damn invalid, go check.”
The corners of his lips turned up into an almost imperceivable smile as he looked at her fondly. The word that came to mind when he saw her was family. It made him feel slightly sick, so he turned to go to the kitchen.
After putting his dish away, he headed up the short flight of stairs and paused in front of Wade’s door. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before knocking.
“Bub, you alright?” He called out in a tone much gentler than he was used to.
When he was met with silence, he turned the knob and, unsurprisingly, it was unlocked. Even in a shitty mood, Wade was still giving subtle hints that he didn’t really want to be alone. He cracked the door open and peered into the darkness. The curtains were pulled aside, and when he looked over at the bed, he saw moonlight spilling through the window and illuminating Wade’s features. He seemed to be asleep, and that should’ve been enough for Logan. But it wasn’t.
And that’s how he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, contemplating lying down with him. It went against every instinct. He wasn’t good at comforting people, he was probably the last person Wade would want to wake up beside. He knew he was getting soft, but doing this would solidify his attachment. He placed his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his palms, groaning quietly. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Be a dick and not help him? Sit here like some fucking creep?
Logan was brought back to reality by a small whimper. He looked down and saw Wade’s face twisting with something that mirrored pain.
And how the fuck was he supposed to let him suffer like that?
He attempted to lay down without shaking the bed too much. As he settled into the mattress, grimacing at the uncomfortability, he pulled Wade in against his broad chest. The realization that they were spooning crossed his mind briefly, but he didn’t pay too much attention to it. Instead, he focused on the feeling of Wade’s solid frame pressed against his own. He closed his eyes, willing himself to relax and just be there for Wade. Slowly, his breath evened out, and the day’s exhaustion caught up to him.
At first, he wasn’t sure what woke him up. But as he blinked away the remnants of sleep and sat up, he felt a cold breeze blow into the room. He shivered involuntarily and glanced down at Wade to see if he was okay.
Which would have been a nice sentiment if he had actually been there.
He felt panic rising in his throat because how the fuck did he manage to lose him? He had one job, but leave it to him to mess that up. The balcony was open, and even though he knew that Wade wouldn’t have died from falling, it didn’t mean he hadn’t run away.
He pushed himself up and crept up to the open balcony door. The door itself was open, but the curtains were in the way. Pulling the curtains aside, he was met face-to-face with Wade’s alarmed expression. Immediately, Logan felt the knots in his stomach ease up. He bowed his head and sighed in relief before glancing back up at Wade.
He cleared his throat before asking, “Is it okay if I join you?”
He leaned against the doorframe, his breaths coming out in small puffs from the cold air. He kept his gaze fixed on Wade, who was staring down at his feet. After a moment, he nodded.
“Yeah. Sure,” he mumbled, moving so that Logan could step out.
Logan stepped onto the balcony and rested his forearms against the frigid metal railing. He looked up at the foggy sky, polluted with the city’s lights. He made it a point to not stare at Wade too long. When he did glance over, he saw Wade a few feet away, leaning on the railing. He kept his face turned away from Logan. After a moment, Logan took a deep breath.
“Bub, look at me,” he commanded gently.
Wade turned his head slightly towards Logan. From this angle, he could see the vague redness around his eyes. He realized, feeling like he had been punched in the stomach, that Wade had been crying.
It shouldn’t have come as a shock, really. It wasn’t a secret that they were opposites when it came to feelings. Logan, since he was a child, felt too little. But Wade?
Wade felt too much.
So of course whatever was bothering him would be ten times more upsetting than it would be for someone else. Logan averted his gaze in an attempt to make Wade feel more comfortable. And if he was being honest, it was to help him, too. Something tugged at his heart seeing Wade so upset. It wasn’t anything like the hyperactive, self-assured, carefree man he knew. Logan took a breath before raising his gaze to meet Wade’s eyes.
“...Are you okay?” His voice came out quiet, almost unsure. His eyes locked onto Wade’s, looking for some kind of sign. A sign of what, he wasn’t sure.
Wade laughed, shaking his head. It wasn’t a happy sound. It was forced and quiet and bordering on tearful.
“Aw, Peanut, you do care about me!” He teased, trying not-so-subtly to redirect the conversation.
Logan snorted and rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up. I’m asking because I’m sick of you acting like a kicked puppy.”
In the back of his mind, he wished he had a cigar. He needed something, anything to do to combat this feeling of uselessness. Not that smoking would have made him any more useful, but at the very least he’d have something to do with his hands. He hated standing here, doing nothing but looking stupid.
When Wade didn’t respond, Logan shifted so he was microscopically closer to him.
“I wanna help, Bub,” he murmured, his voice low. “But I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Saying Wade looked uncomfortable would be an understatement. He was mindlessly fidgeting with his fingers, twisting them around each other again and again. He looked deep in thought, his eyes staring into the distance but not really seeing. Logan said nothing, he just continued to be a grounding presence at Wade’s side.
Wade began to speak in a soft, hesitant voice.
“Do you ever have dreams that just- I don’t know, feel way too real?” His voice, along with his body, shook slightly.
Logan paused, caught off guard. He cleared his throat before nodding.
“Yeah,” he responded gruffly. “Have ‘em a lot. About the X-Mansion.”
Wade nodded stiffly. “Sleep is the only time I can escape from this-” he gestured to himself. “And now even my own brain is fucking me over.”
“I know what it’s like,” Logan said, half shrugging. He averted his gaze, feeling too vulnerable for his liking.
“I just want it to stop.”
He rested his forehead on the railing, arms coming up to cover the back of his head.
Logan sighed and awkwardly hovered his hand over Wade’s back. It didn’t make sense that after holding him in his sleep, this was still embarrassing. Still, Logan could see that Wade’s need for comfort was greater than his own desire to keep his walls up. He placed a hand on his back, rubbing circles into his shoulder with his thumb.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Logan murmured.
At first, Wade seemed not to have heard him. But he gave a slight nod.
“Yeah, that, um. That would help,” he replied tentatively, straightening up. “Can we go back inside, though? I’m freezing.”
Logan nodded and led Wade back inside and to the bed. Wade settled in with his legs crossed beneath him, his arms wrapped around himself as Logan sat on the edge.
Logan decided that silence didn’t suit Wade at all.
Wade repeatedly opened his mouth to speak before shaking his head and retreating inward.
“Wade,” Logan prompted. Wade looked up at him nervously. “I know that...fuck, I know I’m not the kind of guy to talk about feelings.”
He stopped to gather his thoughts.
“I still care about you, though. I’m here, but there’s only so much I can do if you don’t let me in. Whatever you need from me, I can do it. If you wanna talk, I’ll listen. If you feel like just sitting here, that’s okay, too. But I don’t know what’ll help you unless you tell me. Yeah?”
He leaned forward to rest his hand on Wade’s knee. He ducked his head slightly to meet his eyes.
Finally, finally, Wade began to speak.
“I haven’t…I haven’t dreamt about him in a long time,” he began anxiously. “But I went on a job today. It was this teenage girl, needed me to take care of someone for her. And I don’t usually do jobs for free, but she just- she looked so scared and I couldn’t, Logan, I couldn’t let this girl keep living in hell.”
He took a shaky breath and sniffled before continuing.
“I didn’t realize that she wasn’t the only one. When I found that motherfucker, he had a group of them. Kids. Some of them looked ten. I wanted so bad to tear him apart but I-”
He had squeezed his eyes shut by now, his throat tightening. Logan kept a firm grip on his knee, doing his best to keep him grounded.
“All I could do was shoot him and run. I feel so stupid, it’s been years since…”
Wade’s breath hitched as tears began spilling down his cheeks.
“I thought I moved on, but when I was there, I felt like I was one of them. I’ve never felt more powerless in my life. I managed to get out of prostitution when I was sixteen, but it’s like I never really left, you know? I don’t know how to be normal, I don’t know how I’m supposed to get over it, hell, I can’t keep a fucking relationship because every time I get close to someone, I think they’ll end up selling me, too. I would do anything to forget about it.”
He buried his face in his hands and openly sobbed.
“Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been born at all.”
Logan felt chilled down to his bones. How many times had he expressed that same sentiment?
Was this how it felt to be on the receiving end?
Wade was letting out choked cries, tears running faster than he could stop them. He did his best, though, scrubbing at his eyes futilely. He refused to even look at Logan.
Logan was way out of his element. He was used to fighting his way through pain, killing anyone who threatened him or someone he loved. In this situation, there was nothing he could do. And that broke his heart.
He reached over and pulled Wade into his arms. Wade stilled, a gasp of surprise escaping him. Logan held the back of Wade’s head against his chest while his other hand rubbed the length of his back. His cheek rested on the top of his head.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, Bub. I’m here.”
He felt Wade gripping the back of his shirt while he stained the front with tears. The cries were tearing out of him, and he shook with the effort. Logan, in turn, kept murmuring to him. His hold was firm and grounding, or at least, he hoped it was.
When Wade was reduced to small hiccups and sniffles, Logan gave him a few moments before pulling back slightly. He cupped Wade’s face in his hands, thumbing away the remaining tears. Wade nuzzled into his palm as he reached a hand up to place over Logan’s. He looked up at him with an almost puppy-like expression.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Logan raised his eyebrows.
“For what? Crying?” He asked, puzzled.
Wade shrugged half-heartedly. “For burdening you. I know you don’t care about my shit.”
He laughed self-deprecatingly.
“I know the last thing you wanted was to be covered in tears and snot at three in the morning.”
Logan shook his head, tilting Wade’s chin up.
“You don’t get it, do you?” The corner of his mouth tilted up in a half-smile.
Now it was Wade’s turn to look confused.
“Get what?” He looked taken aback.
“You aren’t a problem. I mean, yeah, you talk a lot. And you’re loud. And you have too much goddamn energy at eight in the morning,” Logan paused. “But that’s not the point. You, Wade, are my friend. My…closest friend.”
His cheeks burned with the admission.
“And part of the whole ‘being friends’ bullshit is giving a fuck about you. I don’t always know how to express it, I know that. That doesn’t mean I don’t care. You matter to me more than I can explain.”
Wade looked dumbstruck.
“Damn,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.
Logan snorted. “Yeah.”
“I care about you, too, Peanut. It…meant a lot to hear you say that,” he said softly, smiling.
“Yeah, well…” Logan sighed. “Anytime. I’m here for you.”
Wade paused for a moment before wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck. Logan hugged him back just as tightly. He hadn’t hugged anyone in a long, long time. But with Wade, it just felt right.
Wade’s head rested on his shoulder, his breaths punctuated by the occasional sniffle.
Logan grabbed a few tissues from the box on the nightstand and offered them to Wade silently. Wade took them with a quiet, “Thanks.”
He noticed how Wade didn’t make an attempt to move away from him as he blew his nose. If anything, he seemed to hide even further in Logan’s chest. He rested his hand on the top of Wade’s head, his stomach fluttering.
When Wade had finished, he crumpled the tissues in his hand and sighed, staring up at Logan.
“Thank you, Lo,” he said sincerely. He yawned and pushed further into Logan’s body.
“Of course, Bub. I’m always here.”
Logan stroked his back, his expression softening.
“Come on, then, back to sleep,” he said, moving to lie down on the bed. He patted his chest, silently inviting Wade to relax against him.
Wade needed no convincing. He flopped against Logan, resting his head on his chest. He slung an arm around his waist, cuddling closer.
“Stay?” Wade asked sleepily.
Logan smiled.
“Yeah, Bub, I’ll stay.”
Wade nodded, sinking further into him.
“And, Wade?” Logan asked quietly.
Wade opened an eye to look up at him.
“Yeah?”
“I believe you. It wasn’t your fault,” Logan murmured. He pressed his cheek against Wade’s head.
Wade went quiet for a moment before finally saying, “Thank you, Peanut.”
Logan nodded, pulling him closer.
“Anytime.”