Archive of Our Own

Since Logan arrived in this universe, he's noticed something off about Wade—in more ways than one. Hell, he realized that the first time he saw him in that ridiculous red uniform—way too flashy for a mercenary assassin.

Not that spandex and leather are anything new, but... does it really have to be this over the top?

Sure, the material helps with flexibility, mobility, and temperature control.

'I wear red so the bad guys won't see me bleed.'

Who the hell thinks like that?

Apparently, the clown he's stuck living with.

But Wade Wilson's choice of a red leather suit is the least of his problems.

Logan wasn't kidding when he asked if Wade had ever been tested for ADHD. Hell, he's no Hank McCoy, but he's pretty damn sure something is seriously wrong in that scarred body with its healing factor—possibly even stronger than Logan's.

It's been a few months since Logan and Wade became... roommates, for lack of a better word. And in that time, the calm, the misery, and the solitude Logan had grown accustomed to have disappeared.

In some ways, it's been a relief—Logan can't help but notice that his mind doesn't drift as often into those dark places that once consumed him.

It still happens sometimes, and probably always will. They will never go away. Not the thoughts, and certainly not the nightmares. But in his own chaotic way, Wade has become a hell of a distraction.

And Logan's not sure if he should be thankful or terrified.

He's seen Wade go through several phases: hyperactive child, horny teenager, manic depressive, suicidal, homicidal, and everything in between. He's also witnessed the merc's personality change at the drop of a hat, depending on what mood he's in.

And somehow, Logan finds himself entangled in the chaos that is Wade Wilson. Wade is everything Logan can't stand, yet every time he tries to pull away, he's pulled right back into Wade's orbit.

It's like there's this bubble around Wade's messed-up existence, and Logan's sucked into it, claimed by the madness. It's a world where pain hides behind smiles, Hello Kitty plushies, and unicorn bed sheets.

Logan knows everyone deals with their pain differently, and who is he to judge the clown for escaping into his own little Barbie world?

"How did you manage to put up with him for so long?" Logan finds himself asking Vanessa one day—on a random Tuesday where Wade had decided they should throw a party to celebrate Logan's three months in this universe.

He had said there was no reason to celebrate, but when has Wade ever listened to anyone other than the voices in his head?

"His crazy matches mine," Vanessa replies, smiling almost melancholically as her eyes briefly drift over to where Wade is talking with Peter and Piotr.

"What changed?"

Vanessa shrugs and takes a sip of her beer. "We can't live in Barbie's world forever, Logan. At some point, we have to come back to reality."

Logan feels an urge to protest, to tell her that this is the real world, goddammit. Just because Wade lives in his own dreamscape doesn't make his life or his reality is any less real.

Anger simmers inside him because, even if she doesn't mean it that way, Vanessa's just implied Wade isn't worth sticking around for if it means facing the real thing.

But that man, the one desperate to save his friends, and the woman beside him—that's as real as it gets. 

And somehow, Logan has managed to find himself a place in that world.

Wade is a man of many contradictions, and Logan has learned that the best way to deal with him is to let things go and not try to understand them.

It’s impossible to understand.

It's like watching a child play pretend; Wade will say whatever comes to mind without thinking about the consequences. He'll do anything for attention, whether good or bad.

He's a walking paradox, and Logan can't help but wonder how someone so broken can be so happy all the time.

And yet...

Despite everything, despite the fact that Logan wants to strangle Wade more often than not, he finds himself drawn to the mess. To Wade and his bubble.

That man has saved his life in more ways than Logan ever imagined.

What began months ago as an attempt to save his universe, ended with Logan being saved too—mostly from himself.

In a strange way, the absurd has become his new normal. And normal? Well, for Logan now, normal is this—the vibrant, colorful world that is Deadpool.

A world where nothing makes sense, but somehow it does.

"This is the real world, bub," Logan says, his voice rougher than he intended. "I mean," he adds more evenly, "we don't owe the world a damn thing. It's not my job to save it. Or Wade's."

Vanessa offers a gentle, almost cryptic smile. "It's not. But the choices we make define who we are. You're an X-Man. You chose to do people good, to fight for what's right."

Logan scoffs. 

It's not a lie, but it's also far from the truth. 

Logan was never the role model type, always spending more time away than actually saving lives as an X-Man. Scott would plead with him to stay, Jean would insist they needed him, and Storm would call him selfish. 

Maybe they were right. 

But Logan isn't about to share that with Vanessa—he doubts she'd understand, and it's not like she could relate to his reasons or choices anyway. 

When Dopinder comes over and asks Vanessa for help with bringing more snacks to the table, she gives Logan one last smile, lightly touches his arm, and stands up.

Logan watches her walk away, then glances across the room at Wade again. The merc is still talking animatedly with Peter and Piotr, and Logan wonders if the pain of losing her still lingers inside Wade.

They don't talk about… stuff.

They fight. They argue. They bicker. They insult each other. They laugh. They drink. They watch movies. They eat tacos.

But they don't talk about feelings or emotions.

Wade doesn't offer comforting words when Logan wakes up screaming from a nightmare, claws out and ready to kill. He doesn't get upset when Logan snaps at him for being annoying.

And Logan doesn't ask Wade why he spends hours sitting on the roof staring into space. Logan gives him the space he needs when Wade stares at his own reflection in the mirror for so long that Logan worries he might have gotten stuck in his own head.

There's a lot Logan doesn't know about Wade—even if they're living together and spend most of their free time together.

What Logan really knows about Wade—or at least the part Wade allows him to see—is the version where nothing hurts, the world can't break you, and life is made of plastic.

A life where every day is a great day to be alive—whatever that means.

Some days, that means going on missions and coming back drenched in blood and gore. Other days, it's binge-watching Gossip Girl and adding new plushies to his collection. 

Maybe that's how Wade copes—with all the crap life throws his way. The only way to avoid losing yourself in the darkness, to not forget who you are, is to find a way to deal with it. 

Even if that means living in a pink dollhouse, surrounded by rainbows and unicorns.

Suddenly, Logan feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. His eyes snap to the mercenary, who has gone oddly quiet, and Logan realizes Wade is watching him as well.

Wade cocks his head slightly to the side, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. 

Maybe Wade, too, struggles to understand Logan. 

Hell, Logan himself is still trying to get into terms with the part of him that wants to strangle Wade, with the part of him that would die for the man.

They silent stare at each other for a few seconds, the air electric between them, before Wade beams at him, waves and winks playfully. Then he turns back to Peter, as if he hasn't spent the past couple of minutes staring at Logan.

And Logan realizes with a pang in his chest that Wade isn't living in a imaginary world—not really, at least. Wade is more aware of things than most people think—he can be cunning and sly, when he wants to be.

There's something very human about Wade Wilson.

Sure, he might be bat-shit crazy and has more mental issues than Logan himself. He has a healing factor and can regrow any missing body parts. And yeah, his whole personality changes in the blink of an eye.

But there's something so beautifully human about Wade that makes the darkness that has always haunted Logan disappear—if only for a moment.

How does he do it? Logan can't help but wonder. How does Wade just keep taking all the punches life throws at him, still smiling, cracking jokes, and living in that bizarrely colorful world? 

At first, Logan felt like there was an invisible wall between them—a barrier that kept him on the outside, watching Wade's ridiculous but strangely happy existence from a distance. A life where he snorts cocaine to Madonna and cleans his weapons to Barbie Girl.

At first, it was absurd, and Logan questioned if staying had been a mistake.

But as the days went by, he found himself drifting to the other side of that wall—into the dollhouse, the pink world—nothing more than a dark smudge, out of place in Wade's vibrant, crazy universe.

A world Logan had no business being in, yet he felt drawn to it—to that place where he doesn't have to think too much about his past or mistakes.

Maybe, there is no other side. 

There never was—there's just one world. A world where everything makes sense. Where the universe doesn't seem as messed up. A place where Wade's absurdity makes more sense.

That place—where Logan feels he belongs, somehow.

"I think… yer good enough." Logan enters Wade's room after the party is over and Wade is getting ready for bed, changing into this ridiculous pink pajamas full of Hello Kitty heads, and the words are out before he can stop himself.

"What?" Wade turns around and tilts his head in that confused manner of his—the one Logan secretly likes. "Good enough for what?"

Logan shrugs. He doesn't really know how to express this. Words aren't really his thing—neither are emotions. He doesn't like being this… vulnerable, but there's this thing gnawing at him and he can't shake it off.

"I mean," he clears his throat awkwardly and looks away, "yer good enough for Vanessa. Or, to anyone. They'd be lucky to have ya."

Fuck, this is even harder than he expected.

"Oh." Wade looks at him in surprise—an emotion Logan isn't used to seeing in him—then gives Logan one of those grins that never seem to reach his eyes.

"Thanks," he says and starts humming a tune to himself as he fluffs the pillow on his unicorn bed. 

Before Wade can slip into the blankets, Logan steps forward and grabs Wade's arm. "I mean it. Yer better than ya think."

For a moment, Wade seems speechless—which, for Wade, is rare. The moment doesn't last long, however, and Wade grins, patting Logan's arm as if he's some kind of child.

"What brought this on? Do you have a secret crush on me or something?" He asks in that sing-song voice of his—the one that annoys Logan the most—and wiggles his eyebrows.

Logan rolls his eyes and steps back. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his boots, unable to meet Wade's gaze. He's never been good with emotions.

"What I'm trying to say is..." Logan starts, pausing as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, realizing there's no way to say it without sounding like a pathetic sentimental idiot. "It's okay to be who ya are. Killing for money and actually having fun doing it. Being an idiot most of the time and living in your absurd, ridiculous world. The people who love ya will accept ya for it, and those who don't? Well, that's their loss."

Wade looks at him, uncharacteristically quiet, his mouth agape in surprise, and Logan's cheeks burn with embarrassment. Fuck, why the hell is he acting like some stupid kid with his first crush?

He looks at his feet and then back to Wade, whose expression has become unreadable, and sighs in defeat. "Just... just take my word for it."

Wade smiles softly—an almost unrecognizable expression on his usually cheery face. "Thanks, Logan."

Wade nods to the bed. "There's enough space for the two of us."

Logan blinks a couple of times as Wade's words register and a hint of amusement seeps into his smile. "Yer joking, right? I'm not gonna—"

"I won't bite—unless you're into that sort of thing. Then, well... I'm pretty sure I can do that."

"Yer impossible," Logan grunts and crosses his arms, but there's no heat in his words. "Guess I'm gonna sleep on a goddamn unicorn bed. My life is a fucking joke," he adds to himself, but there's no anger in his tone.

He glances at Wade and is surprised to find a warm expression in those eyes. He can't quite make out what emotion is in those dark orbs.

There's a strange glint in them, one that's rare to see. And the way Wade is looking at him, with fondness and warmth, it's almost… unsettling.

But it feels right somehow. Like it belongs. Like it makes sense.

In that moment, he feels the same familiar sensation he used to get when he’d return to the mansion after months of wandering alone, searching for clues about his past and trying to figure out who he really was. 

It's the feeling of opening the door and hearing the children's shouts as they played hide and seek after math class with the tyrant Professor Scott Summers. 

It's as right as seeing Hank muttering to himself in front of several fancy science holograms.

Or Storm's warm smile telling him they missed him. Or Summers' sour face when Logan says his bike needs refueling. Or the soft hum of Charles' wheelchair approaching, silently hinting that he'd like to hear what stories Logan had to tell.

Logan never thought of this place as home, but maybe this is the closest to what the word really means.

"Just get in, you big, fluffy teddy bear!" Wade huffs and flaps the corner of the bed as if Logan's a puppy. "I'm gonna hug you like a teddy bear, that's what I'm gonna do!" He sings and starts doing the macarena. "Hug you like a teddy bear!"

"Shut yer goddamn mouth, Wade. And stop that!"

But when Wade climbs onto the bed and cuddles him like a teddy bear, Logan lets him, grunting half-heartedly for show.

He allows Wade's warmth to wash over him—allowing himself to sink into Wade's weird, stupid, yet oddly comforting reality.

This is his reality now—surrounded by rainbows, unicorns, and pop songs. 

And this is who they are now—like Barbie and Ken.

And it's... nice.

This is what he wants his life to be.

In the dark of night, when Wade's curled up against his side, head resting on Logan's chest and arm over his midsection, Logan finds himself caressing Wade's scarred cheek, watching as the stupid star holograms slowly spin across the ceiling, their golden hue glinting softly off the walls.

Wade is still awake, Logan can tell. He tilts his head and finds Wade looking at him. "Hey," Logan murmurs softly.

Wade hums in response, then smiles, that genuine smile that always takes Logan by surprise and leaves him feeling oddly breathless.

"Hey, peanut."

They watch each other for a few moments. Then, without saying anything, Logan scoots over and kisses Wade softly on the lips, their noses rubbing lightly, and Logan can feel his own cheeks reddening at the sweetness of the kiss.

He's not used to soft kisses and tender touches. Not anymore.

It's been years since he had anything remotely close to… this. Whatever this is. Logan is used to quick fucks, one night stands and no feelings attached.

And now he's sharing a bed with a man who makes his blood boil—the man he can't help but feel protective over even though Wade's the only man on earth that can truly handle Logan's claws.

There's something between them that Logan doesn't quite understand, and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe Wade's weird world, that place where nothing makes sense, is the world Logan is looking for.

Wade sighs against his lips, his eyes closed, and Logan pulls back just enough to look at him. His heart clenches painfully in his chest at the sight of Wade so vulnerable, so open and trusting.

So beautiful. 

Even if Logan is sure Wade doesn't believe that for a single second.

Logan cups Wade's cheek again, running his thumb along the scars and bumps, and Wade leans into the touch.

"Is this okay? Are you okay?" Logan asks quietly, unsure how far Wade is comfortable going with this. He doesn't want to push him into anything he might regret later.

Wade nods once, eyes still closed.

"Yeah," he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper. "More than okay. Are you okay with this though? I mean, I'm not exactly easy on the eyes. In fact, I'm probably the ugliest person you've ever seen."

Logan frowns slightly and shakes his head. "Don't talk about yourself like that."

Wade cracks open one eye and smirks. "You going all soft on me, old man?"

"Yeah, maybe I fucking am. Maybe stupidness is contagious around here."

Wade laughs softly and presses closer to Logan. "I like you too, you know? You're kinda cute when you're not being a grumpy asshole."

"Shut up," Logan grumbles, but there's no heat in his words. 

"I'm gonna kiss you again now," Wade says matter-of-factly, closing his eyes once more. "Unless you don't want me to. Because I totally respect your boundaries and stuff."

Logan snorts and rolls his eyes, but there's a smile tugging at his lips. "Just shut up and kiss me already."

And Wade does just that—kisses him. Harder, this time. With more urgency, as if he's afraid Logan will disappear any second. As if he's afraid this is all a dream or a fantasy that will end at any moment.

As if he's afraid this isn't real. That it can't be real. That it's too good to be true.

But it is real. And it is true.

All of it. 

Logan wants to tell Wade not to worry. That he'll stay here and he'd rip the world apart with his claws if anyone tried to take Wade away from him.

But he doesn't. Because he can't put his finger on what this is between them. He doesn't know how to explain it. So instead, he wraps his arms around Wade and holds him tight, kissing him back with everything he has.

Wade parts his lips slightly, allowing Logan's tongue to slip inside his mouth, and they both moan at the contact. It's been a while since Logan has felt like this—since he's wanted someone so badly. Since he's craved someone so much.

It's been a long time since he's felt his toes curling and goddamn butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

It's a bittersweet feeling. It's something he hasn't felt in so long, but also something that's hard to get used to.

Like it belongs to anyone but him. Like it's not meant for him. A nagging feeling that he doesn't deserve it.

Yet here he is. Here they are. In Wade's pink bedroom, surrounded by Hello Kitty plushies and stupid star holograms floating above them.

Here he is—In the dollhouse, living a dream that's more real than anything Logan has experienced in a very long time.

The Barbie world. Wade's world.

Maybe, it can be Logan's too.

They part, panting softly, and Wade rests his forehead against Logan's. "Hey," he says quietly.

"Hey," Logan replies.

Wade smiles. "You wanna cuddle?"

"No."

"Come on," Wade whines. "Don't be such a grumpy bear."

Logan rolls his eyes and chuckles. He turns to the side and pulls Wade close, wrapping an arm around him and resting his chin on Wade's head. "Happy now?"

"Mmm. Yeah. Very."

"Good," Logan mumbles and kisses Wade's forehead.

Wade sighs contently and wraps an arm around Logan's waist, holding him tight.

"Thank you."

The voice comes out so low, so full of emotion, it's almost a whisper. Logan's throat feels tight all of a sudden, and he swallows hard, fighting the lump that's threatening to form.

"No need to thank me, kid. I got your back."

"Yeah," Wade sighs and closes his eyes, snuggling closer. "Me too, okay? I got your back, old man."

Logan's grip on Wade tightens and his eyes close too.

"I know."

This is it.

This is his life now.

A life in the dollhouse, where the sky is pink, it never rains and the stars shine all year round.

Where his life is made of silly songs, cute clothes, and rainbows.

Where pain is tucked under the bed, waiting to come out in the middle of the night.

Where nightmares are real, but so are the dreams.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I like you a lot. I really, really, really, really like you. Like, a whole lot."

"Do ya?" Logan smiles and kisses the top of Wade's head.

"Mmhmm. Like, a million times. Like, infinity plus one."

"That's a lot," Logan hums.

"Yeah," Wade sighs and smiles as well, a smile that seems to light up the entire room. "It is."

"Good. Because I like ya too."

The words are out before he can stop them, but, this time, he doesn't mind. It's like a heavy weight is being lifted from his shoulders.

Maybe, the weight of feeling something he told himself a million times he doesn't deserve to feel finally vanished.

Or maybe, it's the guilt.

Or maybe it's just the relief.

The relief of having a place to call home, a family, and a love he never thought he'd find again.

Maybe, it's all of that.

"The feeling of falling in love with your best friend is the best fucking feeling ever," Wade whispers. "Don't tell Peter, but you're my best friend, peanut. You know that?"

Logan doesn't trust himself to speak right now. His throat feels tight again, and he's sure his voice will come out all wobbly and broken if he tries to say something.

So instead, he holds Wade tighter, closes his eyes and nods once.

Wade seems to understand, because he smiles and nuzzles Logan's neck, mumbling a soft "Goodnight, old man," against his skin.

"G'night, kid," Logan manages to say, his voice rough with emotion.

He's becoming a fucking sap.

He's become a softie. A goddamn marshmallow.

And, for some reason, he finds that he doesn't care.

Maybe, that's what happens when you live in the dollhouse. When you spend your life surrounded by rainbows, unicorns and plushies.

You become softer. You become kinder.

You find happiness and every day is a great day.

You stop hating yourself, because someone else loves you.

Because someone else understands. Because they know you. Because they see you.

In the end, all Logan can do is hold Wade tightly in his arms and hope this is enough.

Hope he's enough.

Isn't it the real life, afterall?

Maybe, it is. Maybe the dollhouse is the realest place in the universe.