[ The weirdest thing to realize is that he actually knows Wade is okay. He can't explain it. Just—a feeling. But he needs to be sure, he wants to hear the idiot tell him that it was all in his head.
So he calls, dialing with a bottle in one hand and pacing out back behind the general store. Stars twinkle above. It's warm. He can still feel the frost prickling his skin. The phone rings once, twice. Five times. ]
[The first thing he did once he wasn't, you know, actively dying, was go on a fuckfest. But the fucking was eating. So it was an eatfest. Dying sort of sucks, but you know what suuuper sucks? Starving. 'Cause it sort of just never ends.
So it's when Wade's sweet lips are wrapped around a big, thick, meaty sub when his phone goes off. He has to chew through like three inches of bread before he manages to fumble it out of one of his suit's pouches, because he's sitting in his suit with his mask only half-rolled up his face (he missed it, okay?)]
Huh?
[Somehow he's still saying it through a mouthful of bread.] Oh, hey Logie. [Still through a mouthful. This bread is chewy. Admittedly, this looks bad. He was gonna call. Catch up. Check in. But he was so fucking hungry, it was like he'd gone full animal for the closest thing he could get his hands on.] Breathin', eatin', shittin'. All the best things in life. [Hold on a second.] Figured you felt our little -- you know.
[And that was enough. If Logan cared at all. But. He. Definitely said dumb fuck with the kind of concern Wade doesn't hear often.
He swallows and doesn't take another bite, putting it down.] Hey. You good? [And Wade's got real concern, too.] Sorry. Felt like I was gonna lose it if I didn't eat something.
Wade chews wetly in his ear. Logan grunts. He probably cares too damn much about a man who can't die, but that's the thing about the two of them, isn't it? They can't die 'til they can. Nothing can keep them down 'til it can. ]
I'm fine. Just... [ He pauses. ] How much you remember?
[Well, he can die. He can die a lot. And he, in fact, does.
He just comes back, so --
Look, it's semantics.
And it's enough inner monologue long enough for Wade to just swallow the easy way he leans into jokes, because there was a time in the black where the only thing he had, the only thing he remembered was Logan, and that? Somehow that's more terrifying than the, uh --
dying part.
So Wade gives about four seconds more than he ever does to anything.] Way more than I want to. [That was so serious.] Guessing this phone call isn't to tell me you're secretly in love with me?
[ Not sure what answer he's looking for. He remembers and he doesn't. He remembers a face that he's never seen on Wade before, but which hadn't felt like a stranger's, and he can't tell if that's from the illusion or if...no, they've never met before. Not outside of Wade's other Wolverine.
He doesn't need this false-memory bullshit. He really doesn't.
He huffs softly. ] Shut up.
[ Yeah, yeah, Wade's just being Wade. But no, he's not fuckin' in love with Wade Wilson, and he's not fucking in love with Scott Summers. Never was. But they're, whatever. They're important to him in their own way. He doesn't put that much thought into what he's feeling or why, alright? He mostly just. Reacts. And the simple truth is he doesn't like the thought of losing Wade. He doesn't. It's not any deeper than that.
He closes his eyes. He wants to sleep for a week. ]
Wade wipes his mouth politely (no one is around to appreciate it) and doesn't take another bite, so he can save Logan the torture of hearing him continue to talk around a mouthful of food. Thank god they're not facetiming or this would be so cringe.]
Yeah. Thanks to you. [Not the first time his life was saved by a Wolverine. Probably won't be the last.] Look, I don't know how much of that was real or what, but... I remember you dragging my keister around when you didn't have to. Taking a bullet for me. I remember you were all I had.
[Oh, god. This already sounds stupid. It's only...] What I mean is, thanks. [There! He said it.] I thought we made a pretty good team. Besides all the dying.
[ It's real and it isn't. That's what he's concluded. You know, memories, dreams—what's the difference? Where's the line? He dreams about his memories and his memories are in his dreams, and no one can tell him exactly how much of what he knows or thinks he knows is warped.
What happened back there, it's just more of the same.
At least that's what he's telling himself. ]
Yeah, well. [ What else could he have done? He wasn't going to leave him. ] You owe me a drink now.
[It's not more of the same to him. But he gets Logan's not exactly big on spilling his guts (besides literally, god knows the fucker loves that) and doing this on a phone call is bad enough as it is.
Wade just swallows it down. The way he swallows most things. He's a swallower.]
There's a pretty sick bar near here. Farm to table moonshine. South side of Acreage, a little west of the cube. [You owe me a drink could be we're drinking now and never talking about this again pretty easily.] Get your ass over here and it'll be on me.
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post-train at acreage; voice.
So he calls, dialing with a bottle in one hand and pacing out back behind the general store. Stars twinkle above. It's warm. He can still feel the frost prickling his skin. The phone rings once, twice. Five times. ]
C'mon, pick up the phone, dumb fuck—
[ —oh. He clears his throat. ]
Still breathing, I see.
[ Wasn't worried or anything. ]
no subject
So it's when Wade's sweet lips are wrapped around a big, thick, meaty sub when his phone goes off. He has to chew through like three inches of bread before he manages to fumble it out of one of his suit's pouches, because he's sitting in his suit with his mask only half-rolled up his face (he missed it, okay?)]
Huh?
[Somehow he's still saying it through a mouthful of bread.] Oh, hey Logie. [Still through a mouthful. This bread is chewy. Admittedly, this looks bad. He was gonna call. Catch up. Check in. But he was so fucking hungry, it was like he'd gone full animal for the closest thing he could get his hands on.] Breathin', eatin', shittin'. All the best things in life. [Hold on a second.] Figured you felt our little -- you know.
[And that was enough. If Logan cared at all. But. He. Definitely said dumb fuck with the kind of concern Wade doesn't hear often.
He swallows and doesn't take another bite, putting it down.] Hey. You good? [And Wade's got real concern, too.] Sorry. Felt like I was gonna lose it if I didn't eat something.
[Like he'd start eating his own arm. It hurt.]
no subject
He knows.
Wade chews wetly in his ear. Logan grunts. He probably cares too damn much about a man who can't die, but that's the thing about the two of them, isn't it? They can't die 'til they can. Nothing can keep them down 'til it can. ]
I'm fine. Just... [ He pauses. ] How much you remember?
no subject
He just comes back, so --
Look, it's semantics.
And it's enough inner monologue long enough for Wade to just swallow the easy way he leans into jokes, because there was a time in the black where the only thing he had, the only thing he remembered was Logan, and that? Somehow that's more terrifying than the, uh --
dying part.
So Wade gives about four seconds more than he ever does to anything.] Way more than I want to. [That was so serious.] Guessing this phone call isn't to tell me you're secretly in love with me?
[It didn't last very long.]
no subject
He doesn't need this false-memory bullshit. He really doesn't.
He huffs softly. ] Shut up.
[ Yeah, yeah, Wade's just being Wade. But no, he's not fuckin' in love with Wade Wilson, and he's not fucking in love with Scott Summers. Never was. But they're, whatever. They're important to him in their own way. He doesn't put that much thought into what he's feeling or why, alright? He mostly just. Reacts. And the simple truth is he doesn't like the thought of losing Wade. He doesn't. It's not any deeper than that.
He closes his eyes. He wants to sleep for a week. ]
I was just making sure you're still kicking.
no subject
[He wouldn't be opposed to it, after all.
Wade wipes his mouth politely (no one is around to appreciate it) and doesn't take another bite, so he can save Logan the torture of hearing him continue to talk around a mouthful of food. Thank god they're not facetiming or this would be so cringe.]
Yeah. Thanks to you. [Not the first time his life was saved by a Wolverine. Probably won't be the last.] Look, I don't know how much of that was real or what, but... I remember you dragging my keister around when you didn't have to. Taking a bullet for me. I remember you were all I had.
[Oh, god. This already sounds stupid. It's only...] What I mean is, thanks. [There! He said it.] I thought we made a pretty good team. Besides all the dying.
no subject
What happened back there, it's just more of the same.
At least that's what he's telling himself. ]
Yeah, well. [ What else could he have done? He wasn't going to leave him. ] You owe me a drink now.
[ Maybe even breakfast. ]
🎀
Wade just swallows it down. The way he swallows most things. He's a swallower.]
There's a pretty sick bar near here. Farm to table moonshine. South side of Acreage, a little west of the cube. [You owe me a drink could be we're drinking now and never talking about this again pretty easily.] Get your ass over here and it'll be on me.