hold on, wait a minute (feel my heart's intention)

:

when wade felt overcome with the urge to stop the burly man retreating from him by yelling for him to stay, he thought he knew what he was getting himself into.

he knew the man the didn't have as much as a fucking toothbrush in this universe. he also knew that just yesterday (two days ago? whatever, the last few days have been hazy) said man just basically spelled out a million different ways he hated him with the very colorfully worded monologue that was spewed out in the front seat of that odyssey. fuck, don't think of the odyssey, he can't afford a boner right now.

he knew that he already shared a one bedroom with an easily agitated (somehow more than the fucking wolverine), older blind woman that probably wouldn't be fond of squeezing a three hundred pound, six-foot-two man into their cramped space.

lastly, he knew the pounding in his heart and the warm sensation in his gut that appeared every time the brunette looked at him wouldn't be improving with the man in his personal space for an extended period of time.

he was prepared to handle all of that in stride. it was a small price to pay for the feeling that thrummed inside him when logan grunted out, “well, show me the way, bub.”

he could handle the fact that he had to sleep three inches from someone that he wanted desperately to touch and snuggle up to every night thanks to them sharing the pullout couch in the living room.

(“you're not sleeping on the floor, bub, this is your place,”

“yeah, but you're the guest of honor, peanut. the floor won't kill me,”

“wade,” he deadpans.

“unless you don't mind cuddling up every night, pookie,”

“...whatever, just keep your hands and dick to yourself,”

“don't worry, peanut, i won't bite unless you ask me to,”)

he was okay with watching the man come out the shower at nights, water trailing down his sculpted chest, flattening the course hairs that littered from his beautiful pecs to his sharp pelvic bones. he fantasized about licking the veins sprouting from what he was sure was a beast hidden under the hello kitty towel wade gave him.

he was fine listening to the man's growls and grunts as they went on missions together and getting flashbacks of the same sounds coming from the man as he pinned him into the leather during their f̶u̶c̶k̶ fight in the minivan. the vibrations from his angry rumbles so deep he could feel it flowing through his own chest as heavy, large hands pierce six claws through him causing his dick to jump with excitement.

he was fine with all of it, okay? mama, aint raise no bitch and he wasn't about to tap out just because of some tiny (humongous) unreciprocated feelings that he might be catching for the worst wolverine.

but this…no one prepared him for this.

again, he knew who he was bunking with. the wolverine, despite literally saving the world, was an angry, bitter man. he could be mean, he could be selfish. he'd rather growl and snarl then admit when he's been hurt. he lashes out when his buttons are pushed, which isn't hard to do. he's quick to resort to violence, beat ass first, ask questions never type of guy. yet, wade has known worse, has endured worse.

in between those moments, those moments where logan would grit his teeth and clench his fist, tips of metal claws beginning to peek, where he'd roar fearfully in the middle of the night from a nightmare, claws now fully extended, where he'd stumble home drunk from the bar after a painful day of the voices being too loud, there was something else.

something far, far worse.

wade first took real notice of it about a month after their new living arrangement.