fandomtownies | Streets of Fandom, Tuesday Morning

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Streets of Fandom, Tuesday Morning

Well, a man could only ride that whole found family high for so long before the the reality of staying with Wade Wilson and his seventy something, cocaine addicted roommate started to kick in. The itchy feeling of needing to move on was always there, even as he stubbornly refused to give in this time.

But Wilson was better at observing things than Logan really felt he ought to be or he was eager for a little privacy as he and his girl were circling around each other to figure out what they were now. Could have been a bit of both, honestly. And then meant a place of his own close enough to get dragged into whatever bullshit was happening around the little group he had if the need arose. (And for Laura to keep an eye on him too. Not that Logan would acknowledge that was a thing she needed to do.)

But the castle? Hadn't expected the castle.

"He better not have sent me to fucking EuroDisney."

[open!]

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"Probably not," Don ~~who was from the real 616~~ said ruefully. "Nobody does, so far, except my ex and her universe's guy was really different." It was fine. He was fine. Also, this was a Logan, so Don was just assuming he was already fine with the concept of the multiverse. "Did you...grow?"

Again, none of that made much sense. But Logan was a survivor who could just power on! Through the power of being insulted.

"Did I what?

"You used to be shorter," Don explained helpfully. He did not add, 'By like a foot,' but he did think it, because seriously, that was an insane late growth spurt there, Logan. "Oh, uh." Don offered the hand not occupied with his walking stick for a shake, which was a bold choice when you already knew that Logan's hands were made of knives, but Don felt good about it. "Don Blake." Ringing any bells? No? "Do you know where you are or is this a surprise arrival for you?"

Hey, maybe it was one of those secondary mutations that were all the rage.

"I knew I was coming," Logan said with a sigh that was maybe half growl. "Someone else set up the apartment and apparently job."

He was going to be so annoyed it wasn't a bar.

That was what you got when you trusted Wade Wilson with logistics. Not that Don knew that, since he'd been dead for most of the eighties and all of the nineties, and Thor's take would have been more like, 'You trusted Deadpool with anything?!'

Vanessa. Vanessa could probably be trusted with logistics, but neither Don nor Thor knew her, so...

"That's good," was all he said, and, "Oh, are you teaching? I didn't see your name on the schedule, but I was busy, uh...did anyone tell you about the moose?" Did he teach at Xavier's, or...Don usually found it best not to ask how that place functioned as a school when it regularly exploded.

"Fuck no," Logan said almost as soon as that was out of Don's mouth. Because the idea of being a teacher was just... big ol' nope.

His issues, Donald. His issues.

"Someplace called the Ink Spot."

Don was taking that as Logan had been bad at being a teacher. It was okay, Logan, pedagogy wasn't for everyone!

"Oh, the bookstore!" Don exclaimed. He didn't know Logan was a reader, but then, he didn't know him that well anyway.

"The what?" Oh, Donald. You did it. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill him."

He would not. But he could give it the ol' college try.

Despite that pronoun, Don took a step back just in case. "I didn't do anything." He just told you where you were going to work! Surely you already knew that, right?

~~Aw, yeah, Logan. Penetrate Wade over and over and over again. With your...claws. Totally your claws.~~

"What?" Logan asked, making a face like he'd forgotten Don was there. "Wilson. Deadpool."

Joke was on him, it was Laura who picked the shop.

Made sense. Wade would have picked the sex shop.

"I...don't know who that is." Because, again, dead for most of the eighties.

You don't want to know who that is, Thor helpfully supplied.

"And now I'm scared."

"Does he not exist for you?" Logan asked. "Someone must be so lucky."

Don't let this fool you, he ~~loved~~ ~~was besties with~~ tolerated Wade.

"Apparently he exists," Don said. It was probably hard to tell how he'd been listening to someone before he said that, what with the sunglasses and all. "I guess we just didn't cross paths. I was dead for a while," he explained.

You know. Normal Marvel stuff.

"What?" Hey, he came from a Marvel where people stayed dead in universe.

Weird. Maybe he just hadn't waited long enough before he went on that whole killing spree thing?

"I got better, obviously...uh, it's a long story."

Okay, that was rude to even say. Just rude.

"Is everyone here this nuts?" It made perfect sense that Wade would send him here if they were.

"I heard Navaan and Beaker left, so...probably the average level of crazy has gone down significantly, actually."

He'd miss Navaan. Because of reasons.

Reasons. Really, Don?

"Even with sentient... houses and people turning into animals?" Oh, look. People had given him heads up on things!

You know. Reasons.

"Oh, good, somebody filled you in," Don said. "It's just the one sentient house, I think, and Thor says it's not actually a sentient house. It just looks like a house." He refused to tell Don anything else beyond, 'Do not, under any circumstances, set foot inside that thing,' though, and some of his students lived there and they seemed fine? So he was confused.

"Good." He'd be sticking with the apartment, thank you. Less need to stab walls there. "Wait, Thor?"

A name he knew! Kind of!

Of course he knew Thor! "He's...around," Don vagued, vaguely. "He works at one of the bars on Saturd--Thursday," he corrected as he was corrected. "He's starting the Thursday shift this week." A beat. "Because it's his day. That's a weak joke."

"Right," Logan said slowly because he did not give a single fuck about that. Mostly because he now needed to make sure Wilson never found out that apparently the crying guy was here. "Which bar?"

Not the Kitty one, not the Kitty one, not the Kitty one.

It was not the Kitty one! "The Devil's Nest? It's the one without the--" Say it. Say it! "The...zombie karaoke band."

"...you've got to be fucking kidding me." Someone had to have concerns about this!

Probably, but their concerns did nothing. The band just kept on truckin', courtesy of a huge amount of duct tape. "Uh, welcome to Fandom?" It didn't seem that weird to him...

Okay, yeah, the zombie karaoke band was pretty weird.

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Streets of Fandom, Tuesday Morning

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