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One thing to know about Wade Wilson was that he absolutely fucking loved holidays.He might not seem the type, he supposed. After all, he was somewhat of a fucked-up vigilante, his kill-count way in the hundreds (thousands, maybe? When he had become Deadpool, he had stopped keeping count). He was a man feared as much as he was ridiculed, both by others and by himself. He wasn’t exactly what the average person pictured when they thought of someone jolly — though, he did wear a red suit, and he had had that Christmas special back in 2018, so really, why was Santa the icon of that holiday and not Deadpool?But regardless — he loved holidays, and none more than Christmas. It was fun! It was full of whimsy! People were filled with cheer and the spirit of things, spreading joy and shit. Who wouldn’t like that, besides old buttfucks like Scrooge who hate fun?More so, though — and more fun, and much more characteristic of a mass-murdering, foul-mouthed merc — holidays, particularly Christmas, filled people with the urge to be utterly fucking deplorable pieces of shit if that urge already existed within them, like for the Scrooges of the world. The cheer in the air made those who didn’t have it even angrier about the fact than they usually were, and that made them do Very Bad Things — and that gave Wade more bad people to kill, giving the good citizens he did jobs for a very Merry Christmas indeed. Or — very happy holidays, to be politically correct. Not trying to get cancelled, here.So usually for Wade’s Christmastime festivities, he had more . . . unconventional escapades than others. A merc job here, another there; all Deadpool-centered rather than Sister Margaret's, after his little stint with cancer and getting injected with Hugh Jackman’s happy chemicals that had turned him into a buffalo chicken-style pizza that had been burnt in the oven then left out in the hot sun for a week. It was fun to know he was granting peoples’ Christmas wishes through bullet holes and stab wounds, no matter what ‘morality’ might have to say about that. Deadpool was definitely on the Naughty List, and he was A-okay with that. In more ways than one.But this year, as Christmas rolled around, Wade found himself with a little more to celebrate, and found himself being a little more normal about it. He supposed the shift had been happening for a while, in the years since Vanessa; since he had started being a part of a family for the first time in his life, really. Since he had found his people. People who tolerated him, maybe even liked him — and really, wasn’t that what family was all about? Finding the ability to tolerate. In leaving Deadpool behind, Wade hadn’t been his best, but after embracing that side of himself again, and after finding someone else who understood (i.e., kidnapping said person, dragging them across space and time, going through the motions of your average fanservice movie with found family/enemies to lovers/other related troupe stuff), he truly did have a Christmas to celebrate. That was why this year, he had hung up his suit for a Christmas sweater; he had put aside mercenary work for a tooth-achingly domestic morning at home, in his, Blind Al, and Logan’s shared apartment that the three of them had been living in together since Wade had dragged Logan home like a lost puppy. Along with the actual lost puppy. It wasn’t like Christmas morning had been at all different to how their mornings usually went, honestly. Logan had followed his routine of waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to walk the dog in the freezing cold (something he had started doing to stop himself from drinking in the mornings), whereas Wade had dragged himself up hours later as always, Al doing whatever the hell it is old ladies did and winding up on the couch by the time Wade got up. Even when they were all gathered around their pathetic little tree at Wade’s insistence, things weren’t any different; Logan was still grumpy, Al was still bitchy, Puppins was still . . . doggy.Logan was slouched over the ratty old armchair in the corner of the room, a mug of hot chocolate that had definitely at least a little whiskey in it to deal with Wade’s shenanigans steaming in his hands, the dog curled up in the crook of his arm with her tongue flopping over his elbow. Wade was sitting cross-legged on the floor, shoving Christmas cookies in his mouth as Home Alone — the original, he wouldn’t be caught fucking dead playing one of those shitty-ass knock-offs — played on the TV, Al listening to it with the occasional cackling, witchlike laugh from the couch.The only real differences were the tiny pink tree strung up in their apartment, the movie on the TV, the cookies — which Logan had made, because he was a surprisingly good baker even though sugar cookies were hard to make for no reason, and which Wade had iced with all sorts of colors, not just red and green because that was not fun and was exactly why the tree was pink with rainbow lights, and it had been grossly domestic, and the cookies were so fucking good — and Wade’s Christmas sweater. It was bright red, it lit up, and it proudly read, I’M SO GOOD, SANTA CAME TWICE, and Logan had smiled a little when he had first seen it that morning, mouth just slightly twitching up at the corner. Wade thought that that amusement was the only reason he hadn’t been refused outright when he had first coaxed Logan to watch Christmas movies with him and Al (or listen to them, in her case).Logan hadn’t been as smiley, lately — not that he ever really was, but honestly, it seemed almost as if he were retreating in on himself after doing better for a couple of weeks when Wade had first brought him home. He hadn’t been doing great, even then; he had an entirely new universe to adjust to, along with the knowledge of being the ‘worst Wolverine’, and of his daughter, Laura, and of the reality of his crippling PTSD and alcoholism and whatever the shit else he had hidden in his skeleton-filled closets filled with the bones of those he loved most. But despite all of that, he hadn’t been doing bad. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, though, he had been worse. Grumpier. Angrier. More easily frustrated, snapping at the smallest things. Pushing people away, then biting when they got too close. Honestly, he needed a sign around his neck that said BEWARE OF DOG. Wade knew he was dealing with something. He could tell that the loss of Logan’s universe and everyone in it — as he had learned from Logan after the first few nights of waking up with the Wolverine claw-deep in his chest and the man feeling as if he owed him an explanation as to why, even after Wade had assured him it was okay, he was fine, and it was maybe even a bit of a turn-on — was weighing down on Logan’s shoulders, even when he was in an entirely new universe altogether. He had so much trauma, and so much survivor’s guilt; Wade thought that if he wasn’t immortal, it would’ve crushed him by now. His nightmares certainly were; the flashbacks, the panic attacks. Logan tried to hide it all. He couldn’t.It reminded Wade of how he felt when Vanessa had died. That was the worst he had ever felt, losing someone, and he couldn’t help but wonder to himself what memories were going through Logan’s head just then, as the man stared at the TV, eyes slightly glazed over. It had taken coaxing to get him to celebrate at all; Wade thought that, really, he was just trying to give him what he wanted, rather than actually be a part of it. And here he was: in the midst of it all, sitting silently. Looking at something that wasn’t there.Maybe he was remembering the kids who had died, who must’ve loved celebrating the holidays; maybe they had decorated the X-Mansion, or done gift exchanges, or made cookies just like he and Wade had, icing messy and uncoordinated but perfect all the same. Maybe he was thinking of spending his Christmas mornings past with Jean, or with Scott, or with any of the others he may or may not have loved, in his universe.Wade didn’t know, though. As much as he wondered, curious to a fault, he had no idea. He could barely get Logan to recount his morning walks with the dog, let alone what was constantly haunting him, save for the moments in the dead of night when Wade comforted the man as he sat hunched-over in a pool of sweat and blood, mumbling his regret and grief and guilt into the palms of his hands that he swore were soaked in red.But what Wade did know was that he could up his spirits. It was Christmas, after all.He had already made one attempt at it when the two of them — plus Al, plus the dog, so the four of them, really — had gone to Peter’s the night before for Christmas Eve. All of Wade’s family had been there, though now it was too big to fit them all in a Polaroid picture together. They had done a small gift exchange there, and some Christmas games that had been as stupid as they were fun. But Logan had hung back, not participating, really. It had been a miracle he had come at all, and Wade was even more surprised that he was still tolerating his bullshit this morning. Wade supposed that it was a good thing he did, though, because he had saved his real gift for today. And it was a good thing that today was Christmas already, because it was a gift that Wade physically could not keep back from revealing any longer, because it was fucking awesome, and because he thought that Logan needed it.(Shit-ton of exposition over, folks. Sorry to drag you through that.)“Hey, peanut.” He cooed out the words as he watched Logan’s attention drift from the movie, which had gotten to a boring bit away from the little psycho kid setting up his death-house, cutting back to the really shitty parents who desperately needed CPS called on them. Logan arched a brow up at him, tilting his head, his gaze — which had been somewhere faraway — focusing on Wade’s face. “What.” His voice was gruff as always, still a little rumbling and deeper like it always was in the mornings. Wade scooted across the floor, and propped his chin up on the edge of Logan’s armchair, blinking up at him. “It’s Christmas,” he emphasized, eyes going theatrically wide.Logan’s mouth twitched. Something passed over his expression, some distant emotion. “M’ aware, bub,” he muttered.“And what,” Wade asked, stretching his words out dramatically because he was that bitch, “do people do on Christmas, wolvie?”“Be more fuckin’ annoying than usual, apparently,” Logan growled out, downing the rest of his steaming drink. Wade beamed brightly, grinning like a kid in a candy store as Logan glared at him with enough force to kill someone who wasn’t used to it by now. Wade never had been one to read a room. “Presents, sugartits,” he said happily. “Presents.” With a flourish and a grin, Wade pulled the little red ring box out of his pocket, holding it up and looking hopefully up at Logan, who arched a brow, eyes widening. His cheeks reddened slightly as his gaze flitted from the box to Wade’s face, looking very taken aback.“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he muttered, looking away with a huff, and Wade laughed, propping his elbows up on the arm of the chair.“I pinky-promise I’m not asking you to marry me — this isn’t that kind of fic, peanut.” Wade pulled the ring out of the box, handling it with more care than he would usually offer anything. It was a simple metal band, dark silver and gleaming brightly against the colored lights of the little pink tree. It looked unassuming enough, but it was special. “You got me . . . jewelry.” Logan’s voice was doubtful. Asshole wasn’t even trying to sound grateful. God, Wade adored him.“No, no,” Wade corrected aloud. “This is a special piece of jewelry.” He looked up, tilting his head to one side. “You get nightmares a lot,” he said, the statement matter-of-fact, and seeming like a change of subject to the already-confused Logan, who blinked.“Uh, yeah, no shit.” His voice was gravelly and tense, hands clenching into fists. “What’s your point?” “Well.” Wade hurried up speaking, sensing his discomfort. “I’ve been working with Colossus since, like, a week after we got back — since I woke up with your claws in me and not in a fun way for like the fifth time in four days — and he helped pull some strings to connect me with a few of the old you’s old pals,” he explained excitedly, watching Logan’s confused expression begin to shift into realization; into something hopeful. Wade beamed brighter. “We — that is, the big blue guy — figured out a chemical formula that can shut your brain off — or, the nightmare-making-part, anyway, like in Inside Out — sorta like melatonin —,”“But . . .” Logan shook his head. “Medicine doesn’t work on me.”“It didn’t,” Wade corrected with glee, “until this baby.” He held the ring out again, and placed it in Logan’s palm gently, fingers lingering to cup Logan’s knuckles, rubbing the spaces there that were so commonly bruised and stained with burst capillaries. “In this universe,” he explained, “as a plot device for the second movie, the government made these mutant suppressant collars. But there was a way, thanks to know-it-all Beast — he’s a dick, by the way — to get that technology minimized into something like this. It’s still a plot device, so this author isn’t any better than the underpaid writers at Fox were, but still.”“How . . . how does it work?” Logan asked. His voice was quiet, almost downcast; as if he were afraid to let himself hope that one of the worst parts of his current existence could be taken away, just like that.“Exactly as you’d think, honey badger,” Wade told him proudly. “You just slip this baby on —,” He gently did so, moving it onto Logan’s ring finger — “and it slows down your internal healing and whatnot long enough for the chemical lining or whatever the shit to get to your brain, but not long enough that the adamantium poisons you, or whatever. Like I said: the best sort of plot device, peanut. And the second you take it off, you go back to normal! You really should see a therapist, by the way, to work through your shit for realsies, but this is nice to sorta put it on the side, and it deffo works, we tested it a lot. They have several of my severed hands now from when I decided, go big or go home to see if they’d grow back. D’you think there’re a bunch of other little Deadpools running around X-Mansion now? ‘Cause I think —,”“Wade,” Logan interrupted softly, cutting off the man’s rambling, which had become anxious as he went on and on. He was still looking down, staring at his hand; at where Wade was still holding it.Wade looked up at him with a crooked, slightly nervous smile. “D’you, uh, do you like — oof.” He was cut off with an armful of Wolverine as Logan grabbed him tightly, leaning down to hug him and burying his face into his shoulder. His breath was shaky as he exhaled next to Wade’s ear, his hand hooked around the small of Wade’s back.“Thank you,” Logan croaked out roughly.“Aw, wolvie.” Wade wrapped his arms around him in return, ruffling his hair gently, happiness bursting in his chest. “You’re welcome, peanut. Glad you like it.” He paused. “And glad that I didn’t just go with getting you a pair of socks. This seems like it’s a bit better of a gift.”Logan snorted. He pulled back after a moment, and, keeping his gaze averted, mumbled: “I got you somethin’ too, y’know.”“Ohmygod!” Wade squealed, bouncing up with glee and grabbing at the air with his hands. “Gimme gimme!” “Seems dumb now,” Logan muttered. But he reluctantly reached into his pocket all the same, pulling out a small bundle that a first glance looked like a messily-wrapped gift — but really, Wade noted, upon closer inspection, it looked like Logan had done his absolute best to wrap the thing, and had just figured adding more tape would be the solution. It was more tape than wrapping, to be honest. “Wolvie, you shouldn’t have,” Wade gushed happily, taking the gift into his hands with reverence. He really hadn’t expected this; Logan didn’t really seem like the type whose love language would be gift-giving (and he couldn’t help but wonder if Logan would’ve given it to him at all, if Wade hadn’t done so first), but he wasn’t complaining. After a few minutes of struggling with the tape, Wade unearthed a small box, and he gasped as he opened it, eyes going wide.It was a small, hand-made dog, vaguely resembling Mary Puppins. It looked painstakingly knit, with clear mistakes in the stitching where a hand had slipped or it had been stabbed at with the sewing needle in frustration, but Wade didn’t care. It was perfect. “Althea’s been teachin’ me to knit,” Logan mumbled, filling the silence as Wade marveled at the creation. “It’s somethin’ I can do with my hands that ain’t hurtin’ people. ’m not good at it, only been doin’ it for a coupla weeks, but . . . you seem like the type who’d like the shit I make, so —,”“You made this?” Wade’s voice was filled with awe. He turned the tiny dog over in his hands, eyes shining as he cupped it with adoration in his scarred palms.“Um — yeah. It’s stupid —,”“No!” Wade burst out, and then, without thinking, he grabbed Logan’s face in his hands and smacked a kiss to his cheek, ruffling his spiked kitty-cat hair and beaming as he held up the little dog with so much pride, you would’ve thought he had been the one painstakingly stitching away at it. “This is the best thing I have ever gotten in my entire life,” he said seriously, and then he grinned as Logan’s face reddened, holding the dog to his chest. “It’s going to stay with me forever and ever for the rest of my life until the world explodes, and then when bits of me rocket off into space and regenerate it’ll still be there clung into the severed pieces of my hand and I’ll never let it go and —,”“Glad ya like it, bub,” the older man muttered, shaking his head exasperatedly but still smiling as he cut Wade’s rambling off. Almost absentmindedly, he slid off his new ring, turning it over in his palm with a little tilt of his head, gaze still soft. “This is — nice, too. I — appreciate it. Really, Wade.”“‘Course, peanut,” Wade responded happily, and then: “Shame I gotta give up being skewered, though. You know it’s a turn-on.”Logan grunted. A smirk pulled at his rugged face, and he lifted his gaze to meet Wade’s, arching a brow. “Maybe we can revisit that sometime,” he rumbled out. Wade’s eyes widened, and then it was his turn to smirk.“Bet you’ve wanted a rematch since the Odyssey, huh?” He snarked, “Seeing as I won.” Logan let out a low growl, but he was still smirking. “Maybe in your fucked-up head, bub,” he countered, leaning down to poke at Wade’s forehead just as he had done in the bar. “Stop fucking flirting,” Al snapped from where she was sitting on the couch, and both of them jumped, Mary Puppins letting out a yip of alarm; apparently, all three of them had thought she was asleep. “I’m blind, not deaf, fuckin’ idiots, and you’re makin’ me wanna stick forks in my ears.” She snorted with disdain, shaking her head and muttering under her breath, “Fucking fa—,”“Hush, now, Al, we wouldn’t want you to get cancelled!” Wade yelped out, waving his hands in front of the readers. Logan scoffed, leaning back in his chair and petting the dog with a calloused hand that was gentle for Puppins and Puppins alone.“You’re the one who’s gonna get ‘cancelled,’” he growled out (Laura had taught him all the terms Wade used), pointing to the nativity in the corner under the little tree, where Wade had taped a photo of his face over that of Baby Jesus’s. “Awh, did you just make a joke?” Wade gushed. “I’m so proud, babygirl.”He pressed another cheerful kiss to Logan’s forehead before bouncing up to give Al her gift (a pocket-sized bag of coke, which he hadn’t originally planned to give to her — his Christmas gift was him paying his part of the rent — but had been in his pocket and it would get her out of his and Logan’s business) and then draping himself along the arm of Logan’s chair. He watched as the older man turned the ring over in his hand one last time before tucking it into his flannel pocket and patting the dog’s head, lifting his gaze back to the TV and furrowing his brows.“How have these men not died?” He asked, confusion painted across his expression. “Do they have healing factors?”“Oh, peanut,” Wade sighed fondly, leaning against him, “you pure, pure soul.”Logan grunted again. “Wouldn’t say that,” he grumbled, letting out a sigh before easing himself up to grab the plate of cookies from the floor, then sitting back down, leaving enough room for Wade to wriggle against his side, the dog in between them. Wade leaned fully against him, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders. He waited to be stabbed or growled at, but he got neither; in fact, he almost swore he heard a purr. The first Home Alone faded into the second, and the two remained where they were, tooth-achingly domestic. Wade didn’t move at all for fear of making Logan realize what he was doing and pushing him away.(This was why he loved Christmas, now, he thought, as his heart ached with the feeling of Logan’s breathing against his ear.It gave people a sense of belonging. Of renewal.Of hope for a future.And Wade’s hope was that his future would be with Logan.) “Haven’t had a nice holiday,” Logan said suddenly, his voice a low rumble. “In a long time, I mean. Never really . . . celebrated it. God knows they all wanted me to, but — y’know.” He looked away. He was turning the ring around his finger, gaze distant. “Just — yeah. Thanks. For it all. And — Merry Christmas, or whatever.”“Aw, peanut.” Wade sighed, squeezing his shoulders gently. He smiled at the TV, as the second movie rolled into its signature sequence of the kid watching the B&W aged film, the man on screen crying out, “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal.” He thought that that suited their current situation very well, as Logan began to purr in earnest.“Merry Christmas, Loges,” Wade echoed, and he kissed the side of his head and then the top of Mary Puppins’. “And to you, too!” He added, looking up to meet the gaze of the person reading this. Logan shook his head with fond bewilderment.“You’re ridiculous, bub.”“I’m your ridiculous,” Wade countered, which was a ridiculous thing to say in and of itself — but Logan just shook his head again, and he smiled just as he had done that morning when he had seen Wade’s sweater and laughed a little bit, and all was well, despite Al muttering a string of homophobic vitriol under her breath.It didn’t matter, though. Because Logan had smiled, and Logan had laughed, and Logan was sitting there letting Wade lean on him, and Logan was watching a Christmas movie with him and eating cookies that they had made together, and Logan had hand-knit Wade one of the things he loved most in the world, and Logan was here, with him, not at some bar, but here, and —And that was why Wade loved Christmas, these days. Not for the wanton violence it brought to his feet like a wrapped present, but because he was with his family, and Logan was there with him, and Logan was happy. Later that evening, Logan would hold him as they slept. He would hold him, because he finally felt safe enough to, as Wade clutched his little dog to his chest alongside the real Mary Puppins, and it was a new beginning of something truly beautiful.It was a Christmas to remember, that was for sure.(Or at least something adjacent. Gotta avoid that IP infringement, after all.)But for now, it was Wade holding Logan, arm wrapped around him and head on his shoulder, as they shared a wonderful Christmas morning together. Just the two of them. And their ugly/beautiful dog/daughter (depending on who you asked). And their old, blind roommate.But they’d take what they could get, and they were happy, so it was good enough, and it was a very Merry Christmas.