C&DP fic, Lookin' for some happiness, part 2
Title: Lookin' for some happiness
Pairing: CablexDeadpool
Warnings: Definitely NSFW on account of sex.
I've been filling this prompt on the Cable & Deadpool kinkmeme, and it got reeaally long on me, so I'm posting the rest here.
part one
Several hours, and rather a lot of bottles, later, there was a knock at the door. Wade flailed himself into a sitting position, squinted at the door, contemplated getting up, and decided it was too hard. "Who 'sit?"
"Wade? It's me," came Nate's voice.
Wade considered this, like prodding at a bruise, and found that in his little analogy, not only could he not feel any pain, he couldn't feel his fingers.
[Best time to have this little chat, then.]
"Huh? Which chat's this?"
[Dunno, but I bet it doesn't end with him apologising for being a dick and inviting us back to Providence.]
"Sucker bet," Wade muttered, then raised his voice, "Lock's broken, let yourself in." At least he didn’t have to worry about finding clothes or his mask, since Nate was pretty used to seeing him in just his boxers.
A creak, some heavy footsteps, and then Nate was standing in his living room, making the place feel smaller just by existing. His face didn't look too bad, the cuts covered with neat pads of white gauze.
[Never did get those bandaids...]
"How d'you feel about Thor?" he asked.
Nate stalled for a moment, clearly taken aback, but then raised an eyebrow. "In what context?"
"On bandaids."
"I- can't say that I've ever thought about it. Does it affect the functioning of the bandaids?"
Aww, he was really trying hard. Also really tall; Wade frowned, knocked a couple of empties off the lounge. "Siddown an' quit looming. Might not get a crick in the neck 'nymore, but y're too tall."
Nate sat down cautiously, and up close he was... less annoying than usual, somehow. He was staring at Wade again, but he looked weirdly lost, and Wade found himself with the vague urge to ruffle the idiot's hair and tell him it was all going to be okay.
[I think we knocked the smug out of him. Must’ve hit harder'n I thought.]
"What d’you want, Priscilla?" he demanded, taking refuge in irritation.
Nate just gave him the serious eyes. "Why do you always assume I want something?"
"'Cause you wouldn't have come all the way here just to stare at my ugly mug."
"I might have. I might just be glad you're alive, even if you are angry with me, and testing your healing factor with-” he hesitated, squinting disbelievingly at the label, “is that rubbing alcohol?"
"Yep. Present from a- guy I know.” One more swallow, and the bottle was empty. Good thing there were more in the box, dear ol’ Loganberry didn’t do things by halves. “Ooh, reminds me, didja talk to Stabby Dwarf?"
"Uh-" Nate considered for a moment, then his mouth twisted into a scowl. "You mean Wolverine?"
"Yup. Figured if you were makin' vaccines, oughtta make sure he got some too. Hydra was makin’ the tiny-evil-robots for him, after all."
"How nice of you." Nate's voice was dry, and the scowl hadn't changed. "And no, I haven't spoken to him."
[Hey, shouldn’t he be pleased about helping people? Aren’t wolverines fluffy and saveable like puppies?]
Wade frowned. "Coulda just told doctor-lady to do it, ‘f you don't like him that much."
"The woman saved your life," Nate pointed out snippily, "the least you could do is remember her name."
[Sure, pick on the guy with brain damage for forgetting stuff.]
"Don't like doctors," Wade muttered. "Better all 'round if I don't remember her, trust me."
"Fine, I'll ask the 'doctor-lady' to get in touch with the X-Men.” Nate paused, then asked carefully, “Is there- Weasel said you went looking for him deliberately. Why Wolverine?"
"We got... history." Wade shrugged, flopped a little more sideways on the lounge so he could see Nate's face better. He looked a little like a zombie with the bandages and the bruise and the flickering bluish light of the TV.
[Cyberzombies. That would be cool.]
Nate looked expectant, though, so Wade kept talking. "Thought about it for a while. I coulda looked up Bullseye, I guess, but, well, Bullseye. Let’s face it, he's an artist. He’d want to make it special, take his time, make me feel all cherished and important while we had the most memorable experience of our lives, or some chick-flick scene like that. And that's sweet and all, but what I really wanted was somebody who’d call me a dirty slut and fuck me through the mattress." Nate was making a weird face; Wade paused. "Uh, figuratively speaking."
"Right, of course," Nate muttered, rubbed at his face, then winced and stopped quickly.
"You okay?" Wade asked, aiming for nonchalant and probably missing it by miles.
Nate snorted. "Actually, I'm a lot better than I expected. When you threaten to 'mess up' something, you usually do a lot more damage."
Wade shrugged. "Wasn't really in the mood. Had a point to make, though."
"Yes, I could tell. And I would have respected your wishes, Wade," and Nate was suddenly very close, looming again, his tone sharpening, "I would have asked your permission before we treated you, but I couldn't because you. Were. Dead!”
Somewhere in there Nate's hands had wound up on his shoulders, holding Wade pinned against the arm of the couch and shaking him. Wade looked up at Nate, calm as a baby duck on a fox-free millpond, and told him steadily, "I would have said no."
Nate's hands tightened convulsively, and Wade could feel the bones in his right shoulder groan in protest, but he stayed still and waited. Nate swallowed hard, and his grip loosened enough that it wasn’t actively painful. "Is it really so awful that you lived?" he asked plaintively, his voice barely audible even though he and Wade were almost nose-to-nose.
Wade huffed, watched Nate wince and back away at his breath, which probably contained enough alcohol fumes to get a normal person drunk just from breathing.
"I don't know, Nate. I mean, I usedta have plans, some kinda future to look forward to. Then one day I get told, nope, never gonna happen, sucker, and it all disappeared, all I had left to look forward to was dying. I joined up with Weapon X 'cause I thought it'd get me back a future, but it made me crazy instead, and ever since I’ve felt like I'm living on borrowed time, like death is right there, but just out of reach." Wade stretched out a hand towards the ceiling, the fingers grasping longingly at empty air.
"Until you had it," Nate said heavily, "and then I took it away."
Wade sighed dreamily. "Yeah." he shook his head, tried to focus. "But I thought about it, an’ if it wasn’t you, would've been something else, right? It’d be pretty stupid to kill off one of the title characters when you’re in the middle of an arc. So, Wolvie does what he does best and you counter with what you do best and we wind up right back at the status quo, all set for the next issue, like living in a fucking sitcom.”
"So you don't think it's worth it." Nate sounded miserable, and Wade sighed again, put his now-empty bottle on the table, and sprawled on his back across Nate's lap. Nate started slightly, but didn’t push him away, so he settled more comfortably, stretching out.
“It’s like all the weird stuff I say just runs right off him, like he’s made of Teflon or ducks or something; too bad he ignores the important stuff as well...”
“Ducks?”
“Ooops. Meant that to be a textbox.”
“Wade, I-” And damnit, he was still looking all unhappy.
"Look,” Wade interrupted, “I'm actually drunk for once, and kinda maudlin. I'm already past the glass-you-in-the-face stage, now I’m having a ‘life sucks, good things happen sometimes but they don't last’ pity-party, and I'll be back to normal by tomorrow, and I probably won't care so much. Gotta be some good to havin’ the attention span of a goldfish on speed. Just- gimme a little time."
“Sadly, time is the one thing we never seem to have.” Nate settled a hand on his jaw, and Wade went very still, as Nate leant down and kissed him, slowly. Wade blinked. Nate was still there. He reached up and carefully poked him in the chest; felt pretty solid for a hallucination.
Nate’s mouth curled a little at the corners. “You’re still in my lap, Wade. I don’t think poking is going to make me disappear.”
“Well, excuse me for being suspicious. It’s not like I’ve never hallucinated attractive people wanting to kiss me before, but it doesn’t usually last.”
Nate kissed him again, carefully, like he thought Wade was fragile, and that was either sweet or really annoying, but now wasn’t a good time to think about it, because Nate drew back a little, kissed the corner of his mouth, the edge of his jaw, like the uneven texture didn’t even other him. "This won't last either," he murmured against Wade's ear, wistful. "I have priorities-"
"And I'm not one of them. I know." It felt like the kissing had- stalled his brain, or something. And that made it strangely easy to be resigned to this, lying on his back with Nate curled over him, touching him gently.
"I'm not one of them," Nate corrected, and it felt like a confession, a secret between the two of them with Nate’s broad shoulders blocking out the whole world. "I spend far too much time on you, Wade, time I’m not sure I can afford, and it still isn’t enough. I just- didn't realise how much I couldn't stand to lose you, because it was never going to happen. I always thought there'd be a later, with you. Until there wasn’t, and I-”
He kissed Wade again, harder this time, and that angle must be killing his back with how damn tall the man was, so Wade slung an arm around Nate’s shoulders, twisted upright, and settled across Nate’s lap.
“Wade?” Nate sounded startled, but also breathless, hungry, and that was actually a really good look on him, so Wade tugged him back in for more kissing. The new angle was fun, meant he could actually tip Nate’s head back and mess up his hair and it was weird how he could see the glow of Nate’s eye even through his eyelid when he closed his eyes, and when he sucked on Nate’s tongue he got a deep groan, hands clutching at his back and dragging him crushingly close, and then Nate pushed him back, gasping.
“Wade, I- we shouldn’t, you’re drunk, I don’t want to take-”
“Advantage?” Wade interrupted, snickering. “Seriously, I haven’t had a drink in like, ten minutes, I’m barely tipsy. I’m as capable of informed consent as you’re going to get, here.”
“That- isn’t very reassuring.” Nate was back to thinking again, obviously because they weren’t kissing. This was a Bad Thing and should be stopped. “I mean, you were absolutely furious with me earlier, and now you want me? I need to know this isn’t- going to make things worse and I just- I’m- I’m not- good at this, Wade.”
“What, sex? Really!? You’re doing great so far, I swear.” Wade slithered forward and kissed him again, but Nate was really ridiculously strong, and managed to push his shoulders back without knocking him onto the floor. This meant he could meet Wade’s eyes to give him a soft, pleading look, which was still disturbingly effective. “Ah, c’mon. I think I’ve proven I can say no to you when I want to. And- you’re a control freak with a god-complex, I’m the original loose cannon, it was never going to be sunshine and roses. If you’ve changed your mind about the sex, just say so.”
“Wade, please, just- talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking? I don’t want to guess, I keep getting it wrong, and I don’t know how long you’ll keep letting it go.”
Wade squirmed uneasily in the grip, but he did have a point, and he’d actually admitted to being bad at something, so... Wade stared resolutely past Nate’s shoulder, and said, “You- I don’t always like you. But even when I want to punch you in the head until you stop smirking, I don’t want you gone. It hurts too much.”
“Wade,” Nate breathed. “Thank you.” And... that apparently meant Nate was right back on board with the kissing plan, which was mostly improvised anyway, Wade was never all that good with plans, although grinding against Nate until they both came all over each other and the couch was starting to sound like an idea with merit, especially with Nate grabbing his arse and thrusting up against him like that, and Nate was still wearing his damn bodysuit, and Wade dragged his mouth away and gasped, “Okay, clothes. Were we having naked sex or didja really want us to mess up this outfit?”
Nate stroked slow, careful hands up his spine and murmured, “Depends. What do you want?”
Wade eyed him suspiciously, losing a little of his happy-buzz. “This some kind of pity fuck, Priscilla?”
“No! I thought-” Wade clamped a hand over his mouth to avoid more talk about feelings.
“Good. So stop making it all about me.” He let go of Nate’s mouth and leaned in instead, nipped his jaw sharply. “What do you want?”
The big idiot was still hesitating, so Wade dragged his mouth down, sliding his tongue across corded muscle, feeling Nate’s throat work as he swallowed, and bit down hard on his flesh shoulder.
“Oh, fuck!” Nate gasped, arching into him, “Wade, I-” and his voice was hoarse and rough, “I want- want to fuck you in- in a really literal way- can I-”
Wade kissed him again, and again, and once more just because, then pulled back and took in the flushed, hot-eyed mess that was Nathan Christopher Priscilla Askani’son G.I. Jesus Summers.
[Oh, hell yes!]
Nate made a whining noise and dragged him back in for more kisses, and Wade forgot for a minute what he was doing, sliding his hands across Nate’s chest and clawing irritably at cloth.
“Take off that damn outfit, I’ll get lube,” Wade panted, then dragged himself away as quickly as he could. Nate’s hands clung reluctantly until Wade was out of reach and Nate staggered to his feet and began scrabbling at fastenings. Wade stumbled into his bedroom and rummaged around in drawers until he came up with a tube which was hopefully still in date, then hurried back out. He stopped in the doorway to appreciate the sight of Nate bent over at the waist, peeling down the legs of his suit.
[Mmmm. I wonder if Nate'd be any good at strip poker... I bet Outlaw would be up for a threesome, too. Guh.]
Wade grinned brightly and smacked Nate on the arse, nearly making him trip as he stepped out of pants and boots. He had nice shoulders, too, and Wade ran a thumb down the line where skin met TO mesh, and found his grin widening as Nate made a stunned noise and writhed at the touch. He didn't get to enjoy it for long, though, because Nate twisted away from his hand, spun around and unceremoniously dumped him onto the couch and yanked off his boxers. Then he took the tube out of Wade’s hand, settled between his thighs, and licked a hot, wet stripe up his cock.
Wade made horribly embarrassing noises and tried hard not to come on the spot, which wasn’t made any easier when Nate apparently decided to show how not-bad he was at sex using a practical demonstration of deep-throating. Wade was so busy writhing and moaning and trying not to pull Nate’s hair he barely noticed what Nate’s hands were doing, until two slick fingers unerringly found his prostate. Then his vision went white as he made a high-pitched mewling noise, and he ground out, “Nate, I- I’m-” and tried to warn him, but the big show-off just pulled up a little and swallowed, then licked Wade’s cock clean.
[Oh look, he found his smug again. Probably under the couch cushions.]
He was looking uncertain again, too, and that was- “Don’t even think it,” Wade muttered, yanked him up and kissed him hard, shoving back against the fingers still inside him.
Nate made a breathless encouraging noise against Wade’s mouth, so Wade kept moving, and that healing factor was good for some things because it only took him a minute to get his muscles working properly again, and by the time Nate was up to four fingers he was hard again and just shy of begging, “Nate, Nate, c’mon, fuck, ‘m so ready, c’mon-”
Nate finally stopped teasing him, pulling his fingers out carefully, letting Wade hook a leg over his shoulder as he pressed in with one long, slow thrust. Then he just stayed there, pressed up against Wade, resting his forehead on Wade’s shoulder, his breathing harsh and shallow.
“Nate?” Wade managed, “You okay?”
“Wade,” Nate rasped against his skin, “Wade.”
“Aw, hey,” Wade smoothed a hand down his hair, petted his shoulder awkwardly; he wasn’t really in a good position for hugging. “It’s alright, you fixed me, everything’s okay, back to being really durable, and you should definitely test that for me, right now.” He nosed at Nate’s cheek until Nate turned to face him, then bit his lower lip sharply. “Hi! Done freaking out? I’m still here...” And he flexed his free leg, hooked it around Nate’s waist, and pulled.
Nate gave a really delightful whining noise, and then kissed Wade like he had all the oxygen in the room and Nate wanted his share back. He was also definitely on board with the new plan of fucking Wade until either the couch or Wade’s spine gave out, and boy did he have the muscle to back it up. Wade hung onto Nate’s shoulder with one hand, snaked the other down between them to jerk himself off, and gave up trying to keep quiet. He was pretty sure he was babbling something bizarre about Teflon and fangirls and aliens but Nate didn’t seem bothered, just kept pounding into him, and then he gave a keening cry that might have had Wade’s name in there somewhere and came hard. Wade managed one more stroke before he crashed over, too, and barely managed to twist sideways so Nate didn’t completely crush him as he slumped down on top of him.
Wade hummed to himself as he stretched out his legs, propping his feet on the arm of the couch and wiggling his toes. He was feeling pretty damn good, kinda tingly and warm and a little bit sore all over. Nate was sprawled half on top of him, like a warm but very heavy blanket.
[Wow. Really not bad at sex. And look, not even smirking...]
Nate tilted his head so that it wasn’t muffled in Wade’s shoulder and mumbled, “I have to admit, this wasn’t what I was expecting when I came here.”
“Hmmm.” Wade arched his spine, feeling each vertebra shift. “Expectations are stupid, ‘specially around me. I trample your expectations underfoot while tap-dancing the theme from Reservoir Dogs.”
“Erm.” There was an adorable little crinkle between Nate’s eyebrows. Wade blamed the sex for the ‘adorable’ part. “Yes. You rather do. Which is strange, because even without telepathy I’ve always been fairly good at predicting what people will do, but with you I only get it right for unimportant things... It’s very frustrating.”
Wade snickered. “My brain is like a newspaper that's been put through a blender: grey and squishy and very hard to read.”
“That’s disgusting.” Nate still sounded pretty mellow about it though.
“You’re complaining about that?” Wade poked him in the shoulder. “You exploded my head, Priscilla. Twice!”
“I’m not going to apologise for that.”
He was starting to tense up again, so Wade patted him lightly on the head. “Not my point. Did I have a point?”
“Ah- That I’m not squeamish?”
“Yeah, that was it. Also that you don’t know what I’m going to do next. Heck, half the time I don’t know what I’m going to do next. But I really hate being manipulated. So- I don’t know, stop trying to run my life? And if you want me to do something, would it kill you to try asking?”
“It seems too simple.” Back to mellow, but with a tired edge under it. “Nothing with us is ever that simple...”
“Ask me, I’ll think about it, I’ll answer. People do it all the time. Well, I can’t promise you’ll like the answer. I am crazy, that’s not going to change.”
“I know.” Nate sighed. “I can’t fix everything, can I?”
“You’ll go crazy trying; stick to saving the world.” Wade ruffled his hair affectionately, smiled at him.
“I guess so.” Nate smiled back, warm and fond, then shifted carefully, in a preparing-to-move way.
“Gotta go?” Wade asked, smile dimming a little. “Important world-saving been put on hold long enough, yeah?”
“I-” Nate paused, grimaced, then abruptly relaxed back on top of Wade. “Nothing that can’t wait until morning.”
“Huh? Um. Okay. I hope you like reruns, ‘cause there’s nothing else on this time of night except infomercials.” Nate was heavy, and the couch wasn’t really long enough for him to lie down on comfortably, and there was no way he’d be able to sleep there, but...
[Whatever. We can always move to the bed.]
“Honestly, Wade? I don’t care what you watch.” Nate settled down and closed his eyes, looking sleepy and contented.
“Oh. Okay.” Well, it might not be what he’d been hoping for, but it wasn’t bad as a consolation prize. And, well, there was always next time, right?
~#~#~#~#~
Notes: Ohmygod this got long. In my head it went kinda like this:
--Healing factor stops working
DP: Woohoo! Hot date!
C: Noooooo! *fixes*
DP: Damnit Nate, cockblocking is not cool! *sulks*
C: Let me make it up to you... *pounces*
DP: Wha-? Oh! Mmkay...
--End
Yeah, and then there was all this other stuff. I blame Wade.
Pairing: CablexDeadpool
Warnings: Definitely NSFW on account of sex.
I've been filling this prompt on the Cable & Deadpool kinkmeme, and it got reeaally long on me, so I'm posting the rest here.
part one
Several hours, and rather a lot of bottles, later, there was a knock at the door. Wade flailed himself into a sitting position, squinted at the door, contemplated getting up, and decided it was too hard. "Who 'sit?"
"Wade? It's me," came Nate's voice.
Wade considered this, like prodding at a bruise, and found that in his little analogy, not only could he not feel any pain, he couldn't feel his fingers.
[Best time to have this little chat, then.]
"Huh? Which chat's this?"
[Dunno, but I bet it doesn't end with him apologising for being a dick and inviting us back to Providence.]
"Sucker bet," Wade muttered, then raised his voice, "Lock's broken, let yourself in." At least he didn’t have to worry about finding clothes or his mask, since Nate was pretty used to seeing him in just his boxers.
A creak, some heavy footsteps, and then Nate was standing in his living room, making the place feel smaller just by existing. His face didn't look too bad, the cuts covered with neat pads of white gauze.
[Never did get those bandaids...]
"How d'you feel about Thor?" he asked.
Nate stalled for a moment, clearly taken aback, but then raised an eyebrow. "In what context?"
"On bandaids."
"I- can't say that I've ever thought about it. Does it affect the functioning of the bandaids?"
Aww, he was really trying hard. Also really tall; Wade frowned, knocked a couple of empties off the lounge. "Siddown an' quit looming. Might not get a crick in the neck 'nymore, but y're too tall."
Nate sat down cautiously, and up close he was... less annoying than usual, somehow. He was staring at Wade again, but he looked weirdly lost, and Wade found himself with the vague urge to ruffle the idiot's hair and tell him it was all going to be okay.
[I think we knocked the smug out of him. Must’ve hit harder'n I thought.]
"What d’you want, Priscilla?" he demanded, taking refuge in irritation.
Nate just gave him the serious eyes. "Why do you always assume I want something?"
"'Cause you wouldn't have come all the way here just to stare at my ugly mug."
"I might have. I might just be glad you're alive, even if you are angry with me, and testing your healing factor with-” he hesitated, squinting disbelievingly at the label, “is that rubbing alcohol?"
"Yep. Present from a- guy I know.” One more swallow, and the bottle was empty. Good thing there were more in the box, dear ol’ Loganberry didn’t do things by halves. “Ooh, reminds me, didja talk to Stabby Dwarf?"
"Uh-" Nate considered for a moment, then his mouth twisted into a scowl. "You mean Wolverine?"
"Yup. Figured if you were makin' vaccines, oughtta make sure he got some too. Hydra was makin’ the tiny-evil-robots for him, after all."
"How nice of you." Nate's voice was dry, and the scowl hadn't changed. "And no, I haven't spoken to him."
[Hey, shouldn’t he be pleased about helping people? Aren’t wolverines fluffy and saveable like puppies?]
Wade frowned. "Coulda just told doctor-lady to do it, ‘f you don't like him that much."
"The woman saved your life," Nate pointed out snippily, "the least you could do is remember her name."
[Sure, pick on the guy with brain damage for forgetting stuff.]
"Don't like doctors," Wade muttered. "Better all 'round if I don't remember her, trust me."
"Fine, I'll ask the 'doctor-lady' to get in touch with the X-Men.” Nate paused, then asked carefully, “Is there- Weasel said you went looking for him deliberately. Why Wolverine?"
"We got... history." Wade shrugged, flopped a little more sideways on the lounge so he could see Nate's face better. He looked a little like a zombie with the bandages and the bruise and the flickering bluish light of the TV.
[Cyberzombies. That would be cool.]
Nate looked expectant, though, so Wade kept talking. "Thought about it for a while. I coulda looked up Bullseye, I guess, but, well, Bullseye. Let’s face it, he's an artist. He’d want to make it special, take his time, make me feel all cherished and important while we had the most memorable experience of our lives, or some chick-flick scene like that. And that's sweet and all, but what I really wanted was somebody who’d call me a dirty slut and fuck me through the mattress." Nate was making a weird face; Wade paused. "Uh, figuratively speaking."
"Right, of course," Nate muttered, rubbed at his face, then winced and stopped quickly.
"You okay?" Wade asked, aiming for nonchalant and probably missing it by miles.
Nate snorted. "Actually, I'm a lot better than I expected. When you threaten to 'mess up' something, you usually do a lot more damage."
Wade shrugged. "Wasn't really in the mood. Had a point to make, though."
"Yes, I could tell. And I would have respected your wishes, Wade," and Nate was suddenly very close, looming again, his tone sharpening, "I would have asked your permission before we treated you, but I couldn't because you. Were. Dead!”
Somewhere in there Nate's hands had wound up on his shoulders, holding Wade pinned against the arm of the couch and shaking him. Wade looked up at Nate, calm as a baby duck on a fox-free millpond, and told him steadily, "I would have said no."
Nate's hands tightened convulsively, and Wade could feel the bones in his right shoulder groan in protest, but he stayed still and waited. Nate swallowed hard, and his grip loosened enough that it wasn’t actively painful. "Is it really so awful that you lived?" he asked plaintively, his voice barely audible even though he and Wade were almost nose-to-nose.
Wade huffed, watched Nate wince and back away at his breath, which probably contained enough alcohol fumes to get a normal person drunk just from breathing.
"I don't know, Nate. I mean, I usedta have plans, some kinda future to look forward to. Then one day I get told, nope, never gonna happen, sucker, and it all disappeared, all I had left to look forward to was dying. I joined up with Weapon X 'cause I thought it'd get me back a future, but it made me crazy instead, and ever since I’ve felt like I'm living on borrowed time, like death is right there, but just out of reach." Wade stretched out a hand towards the ceiling, the fingers grasping longingly at empty air.
"Until you had it," Nate said heavily, "and then I took it away."
Wade sighed dreamily. "Yeah." he shook his head, tried to focus. "But I thought about it, an’ if it wasn’t you, would've been something else, right? It’d be pretty stupid to kill off one of the title characters when you’re in the middle of an arc. So, Wolvie does what he does best and you counter with what you do best and we wind up right back at the status quo, all set for the next issue, like living in a fucking sitcom.”
"So you don't think it's worth it." Nate sounded miserable, and Wade sighed again, put his now-empty bottle on the table, and sprawled on his back across Nate's lap. Nate started slightly, but didn’t push him away, so he settled more comfortably, stretching out.
“It’s like all the weird stuff I say just runs right off him, like he’s made of Teflon or ducks or something; too bad he ignores the important stuff as well...”
“Ducks?”
“Ooops. Meant that to be a textbox.”
“Wade, I-” And damnit, he was still looking all unhappy.
"Look,” Wade interrupted, “I'm actually drunk for once, and kinda maudlin. I'm already past the glass-you-in-the-face stage, now I’m having a ‘life sucks, good things happen sometimes but they don't last’ pity-party, and I'll be back to normal by tomorrow, and I probably won't care so much. Gotta be some good to havin’ the attention span of a goldfish on speed. Just- gimme a little time."
“Sadly, time is the one thing we never seem to have.” Nate settled a hand on his jaw, and Wade went very still, as Nate leant down and kissed him, slowly. Wade blinked. Nate was still there. He reached up and carefully poked him in the chest; felt pretty solid for a hallucination.
Nate’s mouth curled a little at the corners. “You’re still in my lap, Wade. I don’t think poking is going to make me disappear.”
“Well, excuse me for being suspicious. It’s not like I’ve never hallucinated attractive people wanting to kiss me before, but it doesn’t usually last.”
Nate kissed him again, carefully, like he thought Wade was fragile, and that was either sweet or really annoying, but now wasn’t a good time to think about it, because Nate drew back a little, kissed the corner of his mouth, the edge of his jaw, like the uneven texture didn’t even other him. "This won't last either," he murmured against Wade's ear, wistful. "I have priorities-"
"And I'm not one of them. I know." It felt like the kissing had- stalled his brain, or something. And that made it strangely easy to be resigned to this, lying on his back with Nate curled over him, touching him gently.
"I'm not one of them," Nate corrected, and it felt like a confession, a secret between the two of them with Nate’s broad shoulders blocking out the whole world. "I spend far too much time on you, Wade, time I’m not sure I can afford, and it still isn’t enough. I just- didn't realise how much I couldn't stand to lose you, because it was never going to happen. I always thought there'd be a later, with you. Until there wasn’t, and I-”
He kissed Wade again, harder this time, and that angle must be killing his back with how damn tall the man was, so Wade slung an arm around Nate’s shoulders, twisted upright, and settled across Nate’s lap.
“Wade?” Nate sounded startled, but also breathless, hungry, and that was actually a really good look on him, so Wade tugged him back in for more kissing. The new angle was fun, meant he could actually tip Nate’s head back and mess up his hair and it was weird how he could see the glow of Nate’s eye even through his eyelid when he closed his eyes, and when he sucked on Nate’s tongue he got a deep groan, hands clutching at his back and dragging him crushingly close, and then Nate pushed him back, gasping.
“Wade, I- we shouldn’t, you’re drunk, I don’t want to take-”
“Advantage?” Wade interrupted, snickering. “Seriously, I haven’t had a drink in like, ten minutes, I’m barely tipsy. I’m as capable of informed consent as you’re going to get, here.”
“That- isn’t very reassuring.” Nate was back to thinking again, obviously because they weren’t kissing. This was a Bad Thing and should be stopped. “I mean, you were absolutely furious with me earlier, and now you want me? I need to know this isn’t- going to make things worse and I just- I’m- I’m not- good at this, Wade.”
“What, sex? Really!? You’re doing great so far, I swear.” Wade slithered forward and kissed him again, but Nate was really ridiculously strong, and managed to push his shoulders back without knocking him onto the floor. This meant he could meet Wade’s eyes to give him a soft, pleading look, which was still disturbingly effective. “Ah, c’mon. I think I’ve proven I can say no to you when I want to. And- you’re a control freak with a god-complex, I’m the original loose cannon, it was never going to be sunshine and roses. If you’ve changed your mind about the sex, just say so.”
“Wade, please, just- talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking? I don’t want to guess, I keep getting it wrong, and I don’t know how long you’ll keep letting it go.”
Wade squirmed uneasily in the grip, but he did have a point, and he’d actually admitted to being bad at something, so... Wade stared resolutely past Nate’s shoulder, and said, “You- I don’t always like you. But even when I want to punch you in the head until you stop smirking, I don’t want you gone. It hurts too much.”
“Wade,” Nate breathed. “Thank you.” And... that apparently meant Nate was right back on board with the kissing plan, which was mostly improvised anyway, Wade was never all that good with plans, although grinding against Nate until they both came all over each other and the couch was starting to sound like an idea with merit, especially with Nate grabbing his arse and thrusting up against him like that, and Nate was still wearing his damn bodysuit, and Wade dragged his mouth away and gasped, “Okay, clothes. Were we having naked sex or didja really want us to mess up this outfit?”
Nate stroked slow, careful hands up his spine and murmured, “Depends. What do you want?”
Wade eyed him suspiciously, losing a little of his happy-buzz. “This some kind of pity fuck, Priscilla?”
“No! I thought-” Wade clamped a hand over his mouth to avoid more talk about feelings.
“Good. So stop making it all about me.” He let go of Nate’s mouth and leaned in instead, nipped his jaw sharply. “What do you want?”
The big idiot was still hesitating, so Wade dragged his mouth down, sliding his tongue across corded muscle, feeling Nate’s throat work as he swallowed, and bit down hard on his flesh shoulder.
“Oh, fuck!” Nate gasped, arching into him, “Wade, I-” and his voice was hoarse and rough, “I want- want to fuck you in- in a really literal way- can I-”
Wade kissed him again, and again, and once more just because, then pulled back and took in the flushed, hot-eyed mess that was Nathan Christopher Priscilla Askani’son G.I. Jesus Summers.
[Oh, hell yes!]
Nate made a whining noise and dragged him back in for more kisses, and Wade forgot for a minute what he was doing, sliding his hands across Nate’s chest and clawing irritably at cloth.
“Take off that damn outfit, I’ll get lube,” Wade panted, then dragged himself away as quickly as he could. Nate’s hands clung reluctantly until Wade was out of reach and Nate staggered to his feet and began scrabbling at fastenings. Wade stumbled into his bedroom and rummaged around in drawers until he came up with a tube which was hopefully still in date, then hurried back out. He stopped in the doorway to appreciate the sight of Nate bent over at the waist, peeling down the legs of his suit.
[Mmmm. I wonder if Nate'd be any good at strip poker... I bet Outlaw would be up for a threesome, too. Guh.]
Wade grinned brightly and smacked Nate on the arse, nearly making him trip as he stepped out of pants and boots. He had nice shoulders, too, and Wade ran a thumb down the line where skin met TO mesh, and found his grin widening as Nate made a stunned noise and writhed at the touch. He didn't get to enjoy it for long, though, because Nate twisted away from his hand, spun around and unceremoniously dumped him onto the couch and yanked off his boxers. Then he took the tube out of Wade’s hand, settled between his thighs, and licked a hot, wet stripe up his cock.
Wade made horribly embarrassing noises and tried hard not to come on the spot, which wasn’t made any easier when Nate apparently decided to show how not-bad he was at sex using a practical demonstration of deep-throating. Wade was so busy writhing and moaning and trying not to pull Nate’s hair he barely noticed what Nate’s hands were doing, until two slick fingers unerringly found his prostate. Then his vision went white as he made a high-pitched mewling noise, and he ground out, “Nate, I- I’m-” and tried to warn him, but the big show-off just pulled up a little and swallowed, then licked Wade’s cock clean.
[Oh look, he found his smug again. Probably under the couch cushions.]
He was looking uncertain again, too, and that was- “Don’t even think it,” Wade muttered, yanked him up and kissed him hard, shoving back against the fingers still inside him.
Nate made a breathless encouraging noise against Wade’s mouth, so Wade kept moving, and that healing factor was good for some things because it only took him a minute to get his muscles working properly again, and by the time Nate was up to four fingers he was hard again and just shy of begging, “Nate, Nate, c’mon, fuck, ‘m so ready, c’mon-”
Nate finally stopped teasing him, pulling his fingers out carefully, letting Wade hook a leg over his shoulder as he pressed in with one long, slow thrust. Then he just stayed there, pressed up against Wade, resting his forehead on Wade’s shoulder, his breathing harsh and shallow.
“Nate?” Wade managed, “You okay?”
“Wade,” Nate rasped against his skin, “Wade.”
“Aw, hey,” Wade smoothed a hand down his hair, petted his shoulder awkwardly; he wasn’t really in a good position for hugging. “It’s alright, you fixed me, everything’s okay, back to being really durable, and you should definitely test that for me, right now.” He nosed at Nate’s cheek until Nate turned to face him, then bit his lower lip sharply. “Hi! Done freaking out? I’m still here...” And he flexed his free leg, hooked it around Nate’s waist, and pulled.
Nate gave a really delightful whining noise, and then kissed Wade like he had all the oxygen in the room and Nate wanted his share back. He was also definitely on board with the new plan of fucking Wade until either the couch or Wade’s spine gave out, and boy did he have the muscle to back it up. Wade hung onto Nate’s shoulder with one hand, snaked the other down between them to jerk himself off, and gave up trying to keep quiet. He was pretty sure he was babbling something bizarre about Teflon and fangirls and aliens but Nate didn’t seem bothered, just kept pounding into him, and then he gave a keening cry that might have had Wade’s name in there somewhere and came hard. Wade managed one more stroke before he crashed over, too, and barely managed to twist sideways so Nate didn’t completely crush him as he slumped down on top of him.
Wade hummed to himself as he stretched out his legs, propping his feet on the arm of the couch and wiggling his toes. He was feeling pretty damn good, kinda tingly and warm and a little bit sore all over. Nate was sprawled half on top of him, like a warm but very heavy blanket.
[Wow. Really not bad at sex. And look, not even smirking...]
Nate tilted his head so that it wasn’t muffled in Wade’s shoulder and mumbled, “I have to admit, this wasn’t what I was expecting when I came here.”
“Hmmm.” Wade arched his spine, feeling each vertebra shift. “Expectations are stupid, ‘specially around me. I trample your expectations underfoot while tap-dancing the theme from Reservoir Dogs.”
“Erm.” There was an adorable little crinkle between Nate’s eyebrows. Wade blamed the sex for the ‘adorable’ part. “Yes. You rather do. Which is strange, because even without telepathy I’ve always been fairly good at predicting what people will do, but with you I only get it right for unimportant things... It’s very frustrating.”
Wade snickered. “My brain is like a newspaper that's been put through a blender: grey and squishy and very hard to read.”
“That’s disgusting.” Nate still sounded pretty mellow about it though.
“You’re complaining about that?” Wade poked him in the shoulder. “You exploded my head, Priscilla. Twice!”
“I’m not going to apologise for that.”
He was starting to tense up again, so Wade patted him lightly on the head. “Not my point. Did I have a point?”
“Ah- That I’m not squeamish?”
“Yeah, that was it. Also that you don’t know what I’m going to do next. Heck, half the time I don’t know what I’m going to do next. But I really hate being manipulated. So- I don’t know, stop trying to run my life? And if you want me to do something, would it kill you to try asking?”
“It seems too simple.” Back to mellow, but with a tired edge under it. “Nothing with us is ever that simple...”
“Ask me, I’ll think about it, I’ll answer. People do it all the time. Well, I can’t promise you’ll like the answer. I am crazy, that’s not going to change.”
“I know.” Nate sighed. “I can’t fix everything, can I?”
“You’ll go crazy trying; stick to saving the world.” Wade ruffled his hair affectionately, smiled at him.
“I guess so.” Nate smiled back, warm and fond, then shifted carefully, in a preparing-to-move way.
“Gotta go?” Wade asked, smile dimming a little. “Important world-saving been put on hold long enough, yeah?”
“I-” Nate paused, grimaced, then abruptly relaxed back on top of Wade. “Nothing that can’t wait until morning.”
“Huh? Um. Okay. I hope you like reruns, ‘cause there’s nothing else on this time of night except infomercials.” Nate was heavy, and the couch wasn’t really long enough for him to lie down on comfortably, and there was no way he’d be able to sleep there, but...
[Whatever. We can always move to the bed.]
“Honestly, Wade? I don’t care what you watch.” Nate settled down and closed his eyes, looking sleepy and contented.
“Oh. Okay.” Well, it might not be what he’d been hoping for, but it wasn’t bad as a consolation prize. And, well, there was always next time, right?
~#~#~#~#~
Notes: Ohmygod this got long. In my head it went kinda like this:
--Healing factor stops working
DP: Woohoo! Hot date!
C: Noooooo! *fixes*
DP: Damnit Nate, cockblocking is not cool! *sulks*
C: Let me make it up to you... *pounces*
DP: Wha-? Oh! Mmkay...
--End
Yeah, and then there was all this other stuff. I blame Wade.