Work Text:
“The most beautiful man in the world goes to physical therapy at the same time as me,” Wade says, hunting around the desk for something he can use as a napkin. “He’s… he’s so dreamy. Like, twenty years ago I would totally have braved buying an issue of Seventeen just so I could have a poster of him in my room. He’s that dreamy.”
“How do you keep getting in here?” Nate asks, but it’s an ask not a demand, and he only sounds mildly pissed, so he’ll probably listen to Wade talk for at least another ten minutes before he gets John or Irene to throw Wade out. Nate’s good like that.
“He's got these muscles,” Wade continues, ignoring Nate’s stupid question. The guy had been Wade’s CO on black ops missions for years. He knows perfectly well how Wade’s getting in. “Not scary muscles like yours. His muscles would never hurt anyone, not unless you asked them really really nicely.”
“I seem to remember you liking my muscles once upon a time.”
Wade waves a hand vaguely. “That was just subterfuge to get them into bed. I mean, they're alright as muscles go, but you're no Therapy Guy.”
“You don't even know his name, do you?” Nate asks, sounding amused.
Just to spite him, Wade leans over the desk and wipes his greasy fingers on Nate’s pristine white shirt. And definitely doesn't appreciate the feel of solid muscle under his fingers at all. Nate is an asshole who didn't object to DADT, and refused to admit they were dating the whole time they were dating, and wouldn't spend Christmas with Wade and his honorary-godson Evan and Evan’s asshole uncle even when Wade made it clear it was really important to him. Wade is maybe still bitter about that.
“I bet therapy guy would spend Christmas with me,” he mutters under his breath. Nate gives him that blank expression that means he actually is sorry but doesn't know how to say it, but Wade ignores him. “You've got to help me woo this guy Nate. I have no fucking idea how to seduce anyone, you know that!”
“You could try stripping down to your panties in front of him, and hope he's overwhelmed with lust,” Nate suggests, poker-faced.
“You are such an asshole. I was not stripping for you, I was just trying to get changed.”
“In my bedroom. In the middle of the night. When I was trying to sleep.”
“I was wet,” Wade protests, trying and failing not to snigger. Really, there’s a reason Nate’s still one of his best friends despite also being his asshole sort-of-ex. “From rain. I didn't want to catch a cold!”
“And the pretty pink panties?” Nate asks, the way he always does.
“It was Tuesday,” Wade protests, and even Nate can't keep a straight face at that, the two of them dissolve into giggles that would put any schoolgirl to shame.
“Seriously though,” Nate says, when he stops laughing enough to speak, “I know you think it’ll never work, but just be yourself. It worked on me. And Nessa.”
“Yeah, but I was pretty then!”
Nate's face does something complicated and vaguely painful looking that Wade thinks is probably meant to be an expression of sympathy. “Oh, Wade.”
“I know, I know, please don’t say it. I don’t need any more positive affirmation bullshit. I know what I look like.”
“Just try talking to him,” Nate advises. “Seriously, Wade. What the worst that could happen?”
“He hits me in the face with his cane?”
“Well like you said, he can't make it any worse.” Nate grins when Wade hits him. “Seriously Wade, just talk to him. He might turn out to be an asshole. No point agonizing over this when you don't even know that you like him.”
“Like that ever put me off before,” Wade mutters.
“Okay, point,” Nate concedes because he might be kind of a dick but he's at least aware how badly he treated Wade. “He might hate video games. Or junk food. Or sitcoms.”
And okay, Nate has a point. Maybe he'll try talking to Therapy Guy like a real adult would. (And he really needs to stop thinking of him as Therapy Guy, before it slips out in actual conversation and he looks like even more of a weirdo than he actually is.)
“The most beautiful man in the world is called Clint,” Wade tells Sandy’s cat, which is curled up on his stomach. “And he’s deaf, and he can’t walk without a cane at the moment, and I want to lick him all over.”
“Wow, that is so many kinds of TMI I don’t know where to start,” Tony says from the kitchen. He claims he’s making dinner, but Wade knows he’s just trying to avoid the cat, which hates him. Wade’s only slightly smug about the fact that it likes him just fine, because he does actually like Tony and only wants to see him suffer a little bit.
“Don't listen to him,” Sandy says, patting Wade’s arm. “We want to hear all about him.”
Wade’s pretty sure he hears Tony mutter “No we don't” in the kitchen, but Tony would walk barefoot over broken glass if he thought it would please Sandy so he can totally put up with Wade talking about cute boys.
“Okay well, he says his name is Clint, but I think it's a cover. I think he's a secret agent who was injured in the line of duty, probably while wearing a really sweet tux, but instead of just sitting at home, he's using his recovery to infiltrate the hospital to uncover illegal human experimentation. No, actually, I met his therapist one time when Doctor Corbeau was ill, and she's got a Russian surname and she walks like a ballerina, so what does that tell you?”
“That she’s had ballet lessons and one of her parents was of Russian extraction?”
“KGB assassin! She's probably his nemesis. He's probably been chasing her for years and his superiors told him to let it go, but he's a maverick, and no one's going to tell him what to do!”
“If that's true, doesn't that mean he's fucking her?” Tony asks. “I mean, according to all genre conventions…”
“Tony!” Sandy snaps. “Don't be a dick.”
It's too late though. Wade’s good mood is gone. He'd never even considered that Clint might be straight. “Fucking straight people,” he mutters bitterly. Always ruining his fun.
“He could be bi,” Sandy points out. “I mean the recent James Bond films have got kinda a lot of homoerotic subtext going on.”
This is why Sandy is his favorite.
“So I kinda told Clint I'd find him a hobby, but I seriously have no idea what to recommend,” Wade tells the spy tots. “And I figured you're all functional humans with lives and interests, one of you has got to have something I can use!”
“Who’s Clint, and why does he need a hobby?”
“He's the most beautiful man in the world, and he needs a hobby because he can't be a circus archer anymore.”
They all stare at him for a minute, and then Terry says, “Has he tried knitting?”
Wade turns to stare at her. “Do you knit?! Are you a terrifying Irish secret agent who knits?! Will you make me a scarf?”
“I'm not a secret agent,” Terry says like she always does. Like she wasn’t personally selected by Nathan black-ops Summers. Like her and the rest of the spy tots don't have classification X written all over them. “And you can't have a scarf until I've finished Sargent Thurman’s socks.”
“I enjoy fencing,” Gav offers.
“Topless,” Tabby says with relish.
Ric hits her, but not very hard. “It is pretty great,” he admits.
Wade allows himself a minute to imagine that. Gav has the worst hair he’s ever seen, a bleach blonde mullet that reaches nearly to his waist (undercover relaxed uniform rules have a lot to answer for) but he’s also extremely handsome and extremely buff, so it’s a very pretty mental image.
“I think topless fencing may be a little forward at this stage in our relationship,” he says. “I’ve never actually been on a date with this guy, we just share fast food in a hospital waiting room.”
“That sounds… unsanitary,” Rahne says. “What about watercolors? Painting can be very soothing.”
The others turn to stare at her, and she bristles. “What?!”
“Just never took you for the Bob Ross type,” Ric says with a shrug.
“I don't know, I don't think he's got the inner serenity for painting. He's kinda uptight. I think he might be an undercover secret agent.”
“Yes, but you think everyone's a secret agent,” Terry says.
“Well considering half the people I know have been on an X team at some point, that's hardly surprising. Also, do not deny that, I worked with Neena, I know what she does for a living.”
“Totally above board non-classified demolitions work?”
“Exactly. Tell me more about knitting.”
“Would it be weird if I gatecrashed Clint's sign language lessons?” Wade asks Bucky. They're sitting on the sidewalk, sharing a patch of weak sunlight and a packet of Cheetos.
“Maybe? Probably depends on why you're doing it.”
“Because he's perfect and I always want to know what he's thinking?”
Bucky snorts. “Yeah, that's creepy.”
“Because he's really nervous about them, and I don't want him to be alone somewhere that frightens him?”
“Significantly less creepy. Go with that one.”
“So you think it would be okay?”
Bucky grabs a handful of Cheetos and munches them thoughtfully before replying. “I think that depends on whether he wants you there, dude. I mean, is he going to hate that someone saw him vulnerable, or is he going to be pleased that someone's got his back?”
“Pleased. I think? I don't know, Clint's weird. He's really really bad at pretending to be okay when he's not, but he still does it, and I don't know if he genuinely thinks he's hiding, or if it's just habit.” Not that that sounds like anyone Wade knows, no sir. Definitely nothing familiar about that.
“Well, I think when you've figured that out, you'll have your answer. Personally though, I'd just do it, as long as you can manage not to be creepy about it. Learning new shit is always good.”
“Yeah, it is. Thanks, Buck. You need anything?”
“Nah, I'm good man. Got everything a man could want.” He pats his tattered backpack affectionately.
“Soap, toothbrush, new socks. Got it.”
“Don't you dare, Wilson. I do not need your charity.”
“You're ungrateful, you know that? Just for that, I'm getting you plain black socks. I was going to get you cool ones. You know they do Pokemon socks in adult sizes now? But no Pikachu for you, just boring old sadness socks. So there.”
Bucky quirks a smile. “You’re a weirdo, Wade. But it’s not like I’m gonna turn down free socks in this economy.”
“I kissed Clint.” Evan maybe isn't the person he should be telling about this, given he's still in highschool, but Bucky is sick of listening to him pine and the spy tots have been deployed again. Plus Evan likes to be kept up to date on Wade's life, even when Wade has nothing important to tell him.
“That's great! Who's Clint?”
“Oh, he's this guy who was in the Circus and then in an explosion, and he has PT at the same time as me, and I started to go to sign language classes with him because he was scared to go alone, and now he's my best friend and I want to have his babies.”
“Okay." There's a pause while Evan processes Wade's word vomit. "Did he kiss you back?”
“No. I only kissed him on the cheek though. By accident. And then again on purpose. A few times. And now I don't know if we're dating.” It's starting to drive him insane, because he wants it so much, and Clint is absolutely the sort of guy who wouldn't talk about shit like that unless you make him, but Wade so doesn't want to be that guy who reads to much into everything and can't take no for an answer.
“I think I need more details. Tell me from the beginning?”
“I hang out at his flat a lot because it's less horrible than mine, and we play video games and I eat his food. Only he didn't have any food, so he made me cookies because he's the perfect man. And me and my mom... we'd do this really cheesy thing when I was a kid where she'd make me give her a kiss on the cheek for every homemade cookie I ate. And no one's made me cookies since her, so when he gave me a cookie, I kissed him. Not on purpose, although I've kind of been thinking about kissing him since the first time I met him because he's the most beautiful man in the world. So I kissed him, and he just.... didn't react? I mean, he asked me what it was, and I said kisses for cookies, and he just smiled at me and started talking about what other flavors of cookies he could make. And I just kinda... went on kissing him every time I ate one? I did it like five times, and he just went with it, which was really starting to confuse me.
“So I told him I liked kissing him, and I was going to turn it into a whole conversation, but then I panicked, so instead I ran away and bought him $200 worth of baking ingredients instead.”
“Naturally.” Wade can hear the smile in Evan's voice, and he's not even mad at being laughed at because he's fully aware than this whole situation is ridiculous. As ridiculous as Clint's biceps. God, Clint's biceps... He shakes himself. So not the right moment.
“When I got back he made like three more batches of cookies, and I ate my own body weight in sugar, and kissed him like a million more times, and he carried on just... not reacting. And so I got thinking, what if maybe this whole time the thing where we eat burritos in hospital waiting rooms, and learn ASL together, and have a joint high score on Mario kart because we like to play pass the controller... what if that's been dating. What if we've actually been dating this whole time, and that's why he thinks kisses are just okay and not a big deal? I mean, I thought he was straight, but he doesn't do that straight boy bullshit 'no homo' stuff, so what if he's actually all 'yes homo', and I just didn't pick it up?”
“Could be. Do you not think you should be talking to someone older about this? I mean, older than fourteen?”
“No, because I don't actually think Clint is any more emotionally mature than me, therefore high school perspective on this is exactly what I need. I mean... what would you think if your best friend started doing shit like this?”
“I don't think I have a best friend. I'm still getting to know people.”
“Okay, but you have friends, right? I mean, you said you weren't lonely, and you didn't hate boarding school, but if you're actually all alone, I can totally just ask your Uncle to find you a better, less ridiculously fancy school...” Wade will drive down there tonight if Evan needs him, and never mind that it's like a two hour drive even in good traffic.
“I'm fine Wade, I like this school. And I do have friends, I promise. Just not really a best friend. I mean, Idie's already got a best friend, and Broo basically just cares about Idie, and Quentin refuses to admit that he likes any of us, even though he spends all his time with us. But they're all my friends."
“Okay, if you're sure...”
“I'm sure Wade. I'm not going to find a curriculum like this anywhere else. I don't want to move.”
Damn it, Wade wants Evan to be happy, but it would be kind of nice if he was happy somewhere a little closer. He misses hanging out with him and getting to do the cool older-brother thing once in a while. He's not going to say that though - this is what Evan's chosen and Wade can respect that. “Okay, okay cool. But back to my original question, if one of your friends acted like Clint did, what would you think?”
“Well, it would depend. If Idie did, I'd wonder if something was going on because Idie has really strict ideas about what's appropriate contact between boys and girls, but mostly I'd just assume it was one of those cultural things where it's just not as significant to Kenyans. Broo would never kiss anyone who wasn't Idie. If it was Quentin... I can't actually imagine Quentin not freaking out about that. He's mostly chill with the whole liberal thing the Academy has, but he gets weird if he thinks people are treating him like a girl.”
“He's a teenage trans boy. He'll get over it.”
“He's what?!”
Well fuck, now Wade's done it. “Oh shit, did you not know? I thought it was obvious. He's got that 'my binder is too tight' shoulder hunch. Maybe forget I said that? I'm sure he'll tell you when he's ready.” At least he knows Evan well enough to know he'd never be a dick to Quentin about it.
“I hope so." God, Evan is such a good kid. "But if Quentin was chill with me kissing him, I think either he would be messing with me, or yeah, totally secret dating.”
Wade can hear the blush in Evan's voice, and he's pretty sure it's nothing to do with the accidental outing. “You've had that fantasy, huh?”
“I'm having it right now. Quentin's really...”
“Everything a nice boy like you should stay away from and therefore wants more? Yeah, I got that from our one brief meeting.” He'd had bubblegum pink hair and a fuck the police shirt, and was generally as close to Evan's polar opposite as it was possible to be.
“You don't think I should date him?”
“I think you should jump him at the first opportunity if you think he'd be into that. You could use a little teenage rebellion in your life. And I know your Uncle would agree.” Jean-Phillipe is an asshole, but the one thing he and Wade agree on is that Evan needs more fun and less studying.
Evan laughs. “I'll bear that in mind. It's never going to come up, Quentin's into Idie, but you know...”
“Threesome?” Wade suggests, mostly to hear Evan laugh. He's still not sure how he ended up being part of Evan's rag-tag chosen family, but he's hugely proud that this brilliant loving teenager wants Wade in his life.
“I'll be sure to suggest it,” Evan says, a smile in his voice. “Seriously though, wouldn't, you know, sex have come up by now if you were secretly dating?”
“I think he might be Ace. Or just into dudes romantically but not sexually? He never talks about people being hot though. No one. Like, he comments on how his therapist is beautiful, but in a 'gosh she looks like a model' way, not an 'I'd bone that' kind of way. So I think maybe he just doesn't really do sex, you know? Some people don't.”
“That does sound like you might be dating,” Evan admits. “I mean, that's what I'd think if I were in your position. And I can't imagine being that chill about someone kissing me unless I was already dating them.”
“Thanks, kid.”
“You're welcome. I'd better go now, I've got so much homework, you wouldn't believe. Which is totally fine," he adds quickly, before Wade can say anything, "and I still like this school. Good luck with your secret dating thing. Oh, and Hope sends her love.”
“I'll email her tonight. I've got a new game she'd totally love to recommend to her. Night kid. Don't work too hard.”
“Night Wade. Congrats on the new boyfriend.”
WWW is now online
SpringsEternal: Hi Wade
WWW: Hello Hope!!! How's my favorite child of an ex who I hang out with for non-creepy reasons?
SpringsEternal: Are there any you hang out with for creepy reasons?
SpringsEternal: Actually don't answer that. Don't want to know.
SpringsEternal: I'm okay. I think Idie's gonna start dating that Quentin kid.
WWW: that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen
SpringsEternal: I know! I don't know that she's thinking!
WWW: She'll get over it probably.
WWW: btw, check out the new keyboard! I got one with extra big keys! No more burn finger key smashes!
SpringsEternal: Nice. Definitely better than the dictation software.
WWW: IKR!
SpringsEternal: How's your week been?
WWW: it's been a weird one. Clint's been super depressed. I crashed on his couch for a couple of days, to make sure he was eating and shit, and I don't think he even noticed until yesterday, so that sucked.
SpringsEternal: rough
WWW: but he kissed me for the first time, so...
SpringsEternal: omg, that's awesome! I mean, kinda weird that you've been dating for like two months and not kissed yet, but also, that's awesome! I'm so happy for you!
WWW: obviously I expect you to pass this on to Nate. Be sure to talk lots about how blissfully happy I am
SpringsEternal: nu-uh, I'm not getting involved in your weird rivalry thing with my dad.
SpringsEternal: oh except I was going to tell you
SpringsEternal: him and Neena are giving it another go
SpringsEternal: won't last. Never does. But wanted you to be forewarned just in case.
WWW: thanks, sweetheart.
WWW: hey, how'd you turn out so awesome when your dad's such a dick?
SpringsEternal: I could make a sex joke here. I won't because it would be about my dad, but I want you to know that I could have.
SpringsEternal: big Hope was a pretty awesome foster-mom. And dad's not so bad really.
WWW: yeah, I know. But being bitter is more fun than having a healthy relationship with my ex
WWW: why be healthy when you can be dramatic
SpringsEternal: now you sound like Quentin
SpringsEternal: I think you and dad have one of the healthiest relationship I know for exes
SpringsEternal: I mean, you're friends, and you never get drunk and screw, and you both know you were no good for one another
SpringsEternal: you are my ex-boyfriends relationship goals
WWW: you need an ex first. You gonna break some pretty boy’s heart just so you can be as awesome as us?
SpringsEternal: maybe
SpringsEternal: actually, I don't think I want to date anyone. Is that weird?
WWW: depends why. If it's cos you want to date inanimate objects instead, then yes. If it's cos you're not ready, or you just don't work that way, or there just isn’t anyone you’re into right now, totally fine.
SpringsEternal: I think maybe I don't work that way. But idk. Maybe I just need to meet the right guy?
WWW: maybe. You've got plenty of time to figure it out. Lots of people you haven't met yet. But if you decide you don't want to date anyone, that's totally cool. You know I'll support you whatever.
WWW: and so will your dad because I'll castrate him if he doesn't.
SpringsEternal: thanks, Wade. I'm glad you dated dad, even if he made you miserable
WWW: me too kiddo
SpringsEternal: and I hope your man gets better
WWW: yeah. I'm just gonna let him be sad for a bit. Being sad is important
SpringsEternal: you're a good guy
SpringsEternal: hey before you go, any tips on ghosting the flooded district? I’ve been eaten alive by hagfish so many times it’s not even funny
WWW: have you tried using possession?
WWW: Why fight the fish when you can be the fish?
Professor Bradley is one of the most legitimately intimidating people Wade's ever met. It might be that she's a little old lady, and sharing an apartment for a year with a terrifying woman who'd been part of military intelligence during WWII and was known to one and all as Blind Al has given him a healthy respect for all old ladies. It might be that her Hijab is held in place with an enormous pin which would make a pretty effective weapon. It might be that everyone knows she's the wife of Isiah ‘Captain America’ Bradley, and had gone toe to toe with the Reagan administration to not only get her husband released from a military prison but also get him the recognition he deserved, making him the most decorated black soldier of all time.
Her name badge says Faith. He's never going to call her that. It's important to show respect to people you think might snap you in half like a twig.
“Er, so I'm trying to draw up a business plan, and I have literally no idea where to start, and Logan and Sam both told me you were awesome and would help with anything, but I know this isn't really what the VA do, but I have no idea where to start, and I tried Googling it but it was all jargon I didn't understand, and…”
She holds up a hand, and his mouth snaps shut of its own accord.
“I can help you. How about you start by telling me your name?”
“Ah, Wade Winston Wilson. I mean, I don't know why I gave you my full name. Just Wade is fine “
“Alright Just Wade. My name is Faith. I'm going to make us some tea, because you look like you could use it, and then you can tell me all about your business idea, okay?”
Wade nods silently and then sits on his hands while she goes in search of tea, so he won't be tempted to touch anything and give her a reason to use her terrifying Hijab pin on him.
Her tiny office is filled with books on everything from contract law to psychology, undecorated apart from a large piece of framed Arabic calligraphy on one wall, and a photograph on the desk of two men, one in dress uniform, his chest positively dripping with medals. Standing beside the first man's wheelchair is a younger man, dressed in a white kurta and taqiya.
“My husband and son,” Professor Bradley says behind him, “at my son’s graduation. He is an Imam, in Brooklyn.”
“You must be very proud,” Wade says on autopilot.
“We are. He is a good man, who cares about people. That is all a mother can ask, I think.”
Wade accepts his tea and takes a sip. It's black and very sweet, but not unpleasant.
“Tell me about your business?”
“Okay, so my partner Clint, he was in an accident. We actually met in physical. And he's got some issues with depression and stuff. But he loves to bake. It's the one thing that always makes him smile. Well, that and me,” he adds proudly. “And I know he's got capital because he got an insurance payout that he's spent basically none of. And I've got some put away too. And so I thought maybe, maybe we could start a bakery. I'd have to learn to bake, but that's okay, I learn stuff quick and I'm okay at normal cooking, so I'm sure I'll figure it out.”
Professor Bradley nods. “Those are good reasons why this would be a fun thing. Now tell me why it would be a viable business.”
“Well there's this shop I've been looking at, it's near a few different big office buildings, and pretty close to a subway station, and there's a sandwich shop nearby, but nowhere that just does coffee or cakes, and business people love those, right? So I figure if we make cakes, and have a decent coffee machine, we're basically guaranteed to make at least a little bit of money, you know? And we don't need much, just enough to cover our costs and buy food. Plus the building has rooms upstairs, I was thinking we could rent those. That should at least cover our own rent. Especially if we eventually move in together, and I'm hoping that will happen fairly soon.” He's been dropping hints, but so far Clint doesn't seem to have picked up on them.
“Well, that sounds like you’ve put some thought into it at least.”
“I’ve been thinking about for a while actually. Ever since I saw the building.”
“That’s good." She sets down her cup and gives him a serious look. "I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to know that it comes from a place of support." She waits until he nods before asking, "Are you well enough? Is he well enough?”
Wade considers the quesion seriously. He doesn't dare not to, not with her watching him. “He has bad days sometimes. Hell, so do I. But not as often now as when I first knew him, and honestly, I think having a job would help with that. Plus I can always fill in for him when he’s not up to it, and he can do the same for me. We support each other, that’s what partners do.”
Professor Bradley smiles at him. “Alright then. Let's see about making your dreams a reality.”
“Coeliac’s disease is going to be what finally kills me, and I don’t even have it.”
“It’s a horrible illness,” Bob agrees, without looking up from the glass he's polishing. Wade's pretty sure that's not something Bartenders actually do outside of Westerns, but Bob finds repetitive activities soothing and really, who is Wade to disagree? “What exactly does it have to do with you?”
“Clint’s therapist said she’d come round the bakery if we made gluten-free doughnuts, so we’ve got this whole setup now, separate kitchen, a million different kinds of flour, separate pans, spoons, the whole lot. But you need the gluten to make things fluffy, and what's the point of a doughnut that's not fluffy? So all I've done for three days now is experiment with flour mixes. I'm so bored!”
“You could give up?” Bob suggests. It's his default first reaction to anything that doesn't involve his kids.
“What?! No! I refuse to be conquered by fucking doughnuts.”
“You could make something else for a bit?”
Wade groans. “We open in two days. Two! We have a coffee machine. There’s art on the walls. It’s been months since Thor smashed anything in the building bigger than a coffee cup, and that was an accident! Clint has seventeen different muffin recipes. And I still haven’t made a decent motherfucking gluten-free doughnut.”
Bob holds his glass up to the light. Apparently happy with its sparkle levels, he sets it on the shelf behind him and refills Wade's glass. “None of them were edible?”
“All of them after batch four were edible, but edible isn’t good enough. They need to be perfect!”
“Speaking of someone who has actually eaten vegan cheese, they don't. They just need to be nice. Nice will be enough of an improvement.” Bob is lactose intolerant, a fact that Wade had discovered when they'd got pissed, eaten a large deep dish pizza each, and he'd had to spend the rest of the night dealing with the unfortunate side effects of Bob's digestion interacting with dairy.
“They’re for Natasha, and Clint really cares about her opinion! What if I make subpar doughnuts, and she tells him I’m no good at baking? He used to hate her, but he basically worships her now. I have no idea what I’m doing, I’ve basically never baked anything before two months ago, and I can’t risk Natasha reminding him! What if he decides he needs a new business partner? What if he decides he needs a new boyfriend?! This man is the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me, I’m not losing him over fucking gluten-free fucking doughnuts!”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic, Mr Wilson?”
They've known each other for years, got one another through some seriously bad spots, but Bob still insists on calling Wade 'Mr Wilson' when he's at work.
“Did you not hear me say we open in two days?!”
“I did, and of course you’re stressed. But Clint’s not going to dump you because your doughnuts are subpar. I mean, he loves you, right?”
“I guess. He’s never said so.”
“Well, I guess that's something you'll have to talk about with him. But he cares about you.”
“Yeah.” Even stressed as he is Wade can't not smile for that.
“There you go then. I mean Ally can't cook worth a damn, and she still keeps insisting on trying. I still love her after ten years of burnt pasta and raw chicken. He's not going to dump you over doughnuts.”
Wade frowns. “You had better be right, Bob. If you’re wrong, I am holding you personally accountable for my heartbreak, and you are going to have to buy me all the ice cream I want.”
Bob gives him a nervous smile. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m right then. I’ve seen how much you eat!”
“I have never masturbated this much in my life,” Wade says. “I swear, I think I’m getting RSI from all the jerking off. It’s starting to cut into my baking and video games time.”
“There’s nothing I can say to make you stop telling me this, is there?” Logan asks, but it's probably rhetorical. If he really didn't want to listen, he'd have just walked out the minute he saw Wade coming.
“It’s not that I’m not happy, I am, I am stupidly happy. And I don’t care that Clint’s not into sex, I love him, and I get to share a bed with him and cuddle him and just be with him all the time, and that is the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to me. And I’d never want to have sex with him if I didn’t know he was 100% into it. I just wish I could stop getting horny all the time! It’s like, yes dick, I know he’s got an amazing ass, I had noticed thanks, but since you’re never going to get anywhere near it, how about you just chill, you know?”
“I want to erase every second of this conversation from my brain.”
“And it’s so fucking frustrating because everything he does is either hot or cute or both. I mean, I guess maybe not when he’s on the john, but basically all other times. If he could just manage to be unattractive for say, 30 minutes a day. Just to give me a break. But he’s a physically perfect specimen of manhood, and I just want him all the time, and it’s fucking annoying.”
Logan stares at his beer like he thinks it might save him. “Why are you telling me this, Wade?”
“Because Bucky refuses to listen anymore, and I can’t complain about sex stuff to Sandy without sounding like a creep, or Nate because he’s my ex and it’s not fair to taunt him with my sexiness when he can’t have it.”
“And you have no other friends?”
“I bought you beer, Logan, what more do you want?”
“To not have to hear about your sex life?”
“I don’t have a sex life, that’s what I’ve been telling you! Jerking yourself raw isn’t a sex life, it’s just fucking tragic. Hey, do you think you can get friction burns from jerking off too much? I’ve been using lube because what the hell else use have I got for it, but I’ve run out. Remind me I need to go to the drugstore on the way home.”
“No.”
“It’s fine, I’ll remember. The fear of possible friction burns will keep it fresh in my mind. Do you think it would be worse than when you piss after you’ve been cutting up chilies or not?”
“I’ve never cut up a chili in my life.”
“Seriously? How the hell have you never cut up a chili? What do you eat?!” Wade pretty much never cooks anything that doesn't have chili in it, unless you could baking, and even then he usually manages to sneak it into something.
“Take-out usually. Or I eat at the center.”
“That’s just sad. I'm sad for you. When’s the last time you had a meal that wasn’t noodles or chicken nuggets?”
“Saturday. When I had burgers. With my friends.”
“And I wasn’t invited because I’m not your friend. Yeah, yeah, I get the message.”
“Does that mean you’re going to finally stop talking to me now?”
“No, it means I have no reason to keep respecting your boundaries and can tell you all the things I wasn’t going to because I didn’t want to gross out my friend. When he kneads dough, he does this little rocking motion, which would just be adorable, because everything he does is fucking adorable, I may have mentioned, but he rocks his hips, and I don’t want to want to fuck him when I know he doesn’t want it, but his ass is magical, and it’s right there, all the time…”
“If I admit that we’re friends, will you stop telling me this?”
“Nope, you had your chance. Anyway, did you know he used to be a professional archer? So his shoulders and arms are fucking incredible, and his grip strength is terrifying in a really sexy way. He’s had zero combat training and he could probably snap me in half like a twig. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”
“Now you’re just doing this to annoy me.”
“Yes. Obviously. But also, he sooooo hot, and I don’t want to have sex with him because he doesn’t want it, and I don’t want to not want to have sex with him, because I don’t want to lose part of my sexuality, but I also want to be able to go one fucking day without jerking off thinking about his hands, or his ass, or the way he smiles when he sees me, even when he’s feeling shit and doesn’t smile at anyone else. And last night he was being the big spoon, and he fucking kissed the back of my neck. How is that fair?! The Universe is testing me, I swear. I just want him to not be sexy for half an hour. Ten minutes minimum.”
“I just want you to not be talking.”
“You have no heart, you know that?”
“Look, if he minded you staring and jerking off he’d have said something by now. So just deal with it. A hot guy doesn’t want to fuck you. That can’t be a new experience for you.” Logan is the worst, Wade really needs to remember this the next time he's driven to ask him for emotional support.
“You’re a terrible friend, Logan.”
“Probably a good thing we’re not friends then, eh?”
Wade puts the tray of muffins down and kisses Clint on the cheek.
Pepper’s smiles like she thinks they're cutest thing she's ever seen, and hands Clint the money for her cupcake. “You two are adorable. How long have you been together?”
“We’ve had the bakery here for almost four months now,” Clint says with pride. Damn right he's proud, they're fucking killing this whole bakery thing.
“But how long have you two been dating?”
“Dating? We’re not...I mean...what?” Clint makes a meaningless gesture, apparently too shocked by the idea that he might be in love with Wade to form coherent sentences.
Wade feels like the bottom has dropped out his world, like he's suddenly in freefall and for the first time in months, Clint isn't there to catch him. "Wait, we’re not? I thought we were dating.”
Clint turns to stare at him, and even with his heart breaking Wade still thinks he's the most beautiful man in the world. "Wait, what?”
“Clint, we live together. We bought a business together. I learned to bake.”
“I...but...what?”
“I brought you chimichangas on our first date.” He's almost begging now, begging Clint to say that everything he'd thought they had hadn't just been a stupid misunderstanding, Wade Wilson wanting more than he can have once again.
“That...that was a date?”
“It was supposed to be, but I’ve never been so great with the romance stuff I guess.” Wade kind of wants to cry, but maybe... Clint doesn't sound repulsed, or horrified. Just very confused, and Wade would have got that six months ago, hell he was plenty confused about all this six months ago. “But I mean, we cuddle. Every night.”
“I thought we were huddling. For warmth.” Clint looks like Wade's rewriting their entire history in his mind, showing every memory in a new light.
“It doesn’t count as huddling when you’re the big spoon every night. That’s definitely cuddling.”
“I...but…But...sex!”
“I’m just...going to go now?” Pepper can't hide her smile as she retreats out the front door.
To his embarrassment, Wade feels himself begin to blush. “I didn’t think you were interested. Thought you might be asexual or something.”
Clint blinks. “Dude, no. I like sex. I like all the sex. Are...you asexual?”
“Pansexual. I also like sex. With you. I would like sex with you.” Smooth, Wilson.
“Were you just planning to go forever without it, like some kind of monk?” Bizarrely, against all logic and reason, Clint sounds like the idea that Wade would be happy with anything Clint wanted to give him has never occurred to him.
“You’d be worth it.”
Clint opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he's trying to find words that won't come. What he eventually says, apparently to his own surprise based on his expression, is, “I kind of want to kiss your stupid face now.”
Wade might be a little bit crazy, but he's no where near crazy enough to turn down an offer like that from the most beautiful man in the world.
"So,” Clint says, when Wade finally stops kissing him long enough for him to form words.
“So," Wade agrees.
“We’ve actually been dating for months, and I was too dim to notice.”
“Yup. It’s okay. I don’t mind that you’re dumb. It’s cute.”
“I’ll show you cute.”
The grin on Wade’s face feels disgustingly sappy, but he doesn’t care. “You already do. Every day.”
“Goddamit Wade. Stop being romantic when I’m trying to have a serious conversation. It’s very distracting!”
“Distracting like ‘shut up I don’t want to hear it’, or distracting like hot? Because I’ve had to deal with you being gorgeous and naked and in my bed and still not sexually available for months, and I didn’t mind when I thought you were ace, but now I know you were just being stupid I’ve got a lot of revenge to plan.”
“Sexy revenge?” Clint asked hopefully.
“You kissed the back of my neck. Repeatedly. Once you did it when you were still waking up and your fucking morning wood was pressed up against my back.”
Clint licks his lips. “It wasn’t exactly morning wood.”
“Really.”
“It was more like ‘wow I just woke up from a dream I’m not going to think about about my best friend/business partner who is also in my bed being all warm and snuggly’ wood.”
“You were having sex dreams about me, and you didn’t fucking tell me?!” Wade would be genuinely annoyed by that if he wasn’t busy being turned on by the knowledge that Clint had had sex dreams about him. “You are so lucky I love you!”
Clint’s expression is equal parts shock, disbelief, and pure joy, and Wade can’t resist saying it again. “I love you. All I’ve done since I met you is whine to my friends about how perfect you are, and then boast about how perfect you are while also whining about my inability to be around you for more than ten minutes without getting at least a little bit sprung.”
“Fair warning,” Clint says, his eyes never leaving Wade’s, “I’m going to kiss you again, and then I’m going to suck you off. This is your chance to voice any objections you might have to this plan.”
Wade keeps himself deliberately silent, and after a minute, Clint grins.
“Good,” he says, and pounces.