Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tuesdays With Morrie was the only thing on TV other than boring nature shows and televangelists, and Wade was seriously considering pulling an Elvis. The whole point in paying for extra channels was so there would always be something to watch. This was good money down the tube. The boob tube. And he wasn't even seeing boobs. If they were going to shove sermons down his throat on fifty separate channels, they should at least have one porn channel to balance it out. Rude.

This was depressing, and it was not distracting him from his problems, thank you very much, which was the opposite of what watching TV was supposed to do. He did not want to think about Nate and the ridiculous amounts of effort he'd gone to just to get Domino back so they could be in epic love on his stupid perfect island where people treated you like a person even when you were a piece of shit but you weren't allowed to go back because you killed someone and you still fucking don't know why you did it. He was not going to think about the fact that the only thing Nate went to ridiculous amounts of effort to do for Wade was torture him emotionally and make him hallucinate until he almost killed bunch of people so that Wade would come groveling to Nate for help so Nate could make him think and act like he thought he should. And sometimes, he also went to a ridiculous amount of effort to humiliate Wade on TV, get him fired from the one legit job he'd had since he got booted out of the army, and make it impossible for him to get merc work.

Rhyme. Heh. Meh. Rhyme again. Shit, even rhyming wasn't fun.

Nothing was fun.

Wade was going to sit on the couch and watch TV and eat until he felt like doing something. So far, like the rest of his life, it sucked. And he'd lost his chips. Well, not lost them. He could see them. He just couldn't get them without bestirring his fine ass, and that was not gonna happen.

What he needed was something long enough to reach the bag. Like a katana, but those had vanished into the mysterious depths of his couch cushions a few days ago. The chips had migrated beyond his toes sometime last night, and he was not getting up. Like his beloved Hall and Oates, he was becoming one with the couch. He was finally comfy and properly settled in after the mistake that was his last potty break, and he had an empty gallon jug on hand now so he wouldn't have to get up for a good long time. Only problem was, he had no more salty snacks, and sweet and spicy just weren't as complimentary without something savory to tie it all together.

His phone rang, but it was out of reach too, and besides, by squinting at the screen, he could see that it was just Nate, not a potential client. Whatever the hell was going down on Nate's hippy-dippy tropical paradise could continue, or discontinue for all he fucking cared, without Deadpool's intervention, and he was not in the mood to get roped into another plot of Nate's where Nate had a plan no one else knew about that ended in Wade not getting paid or laid. Or even in Nate giving him the time of day, since he was so fucking busy being King of Future Island and some make-believe rinky-dink country that sounded vaguely eastern European or possibly Asian.

So, he ignored it and flipped through the nature channels again. Maybe, there were animals doing it on one of them. Not as hot as naked chicks, but it was closer to porn than fucking Tuesdays With Morrie.

Nate came through the door as Sekekama was driving Satau out of the pride for the sixth time like a boss-ass lion king.

"Can you pass the chips?" Wade asked, lowering his gun and turning back to his show. His totally awesome show which was totally distracting him from his problems. Or it was until his problems decided to show up. At his home. In person.

Fucking Nate.

"They're three feet away from you," Nate said.

"I can't reach."

Nate sighed, and the bag of chips drifted up into Wade's lap. He grabbed a handful and shoved them into his mouth. A little soggy. Huh. He must have been sitting there wishing he had them longer than he thought.

"Wade, when was the last time you left your apartment?" Nate asked.

Wade shook the bag of soggy chips at him in response, not taking his eyes off the TV. Maybe, he'd go away and leave Wade to his Savage Kingdom reruns if he ignored him long enough.

"To get food, I'm guessing about two weeks ago based on how many wrappers and beer cans there are. When was the last time you got off the couch?"

Wade shook his piss jug at him. Carefully. The lid had vanished into the couch along with his katanas and the remote. And the jug was almost full.

"Well, at least you didn't piss your pants," Nate muttered. That was the spirit. Low standards. Always low standards.

The TV blinked off.

Okay. Not cool. Time to dig Hall and Oates out of their cocoon and see if they'd transformed into a beautiful butterfly. Of death.

Nate could take Wade's pride, his reputation, his last dregs of sanity, and his heart and crush them under foot, but he wasn't going to take his Savage Kingdom.

"We need to talk," Nate said as Wade rummaged in the couch with one hand while shoveling soggy chips into his mouth with the other, "but I'm not doing it with you in this state. Go shower and change clothes, and for god's sake, get rid of that jug before you spill it on your carpet. And I don't mean throw it in the trash or out the window as is. Dump it in the toilet first. Now."

Wade heaved his most dramatic sigh, folded his arms over his chest, and slumped back so he slid off the couch onto his ass on the floor. Moving sucked, but stupid Nate wasn't going to stupid leave until he stupid got what he stupid wanted, and Wade really wanted him to leave before he made him feel guilty or angry or sad or manipulated him into doing something he didn't want to do.

"I don't wanna," he said after laying there for a while. He couldn't really remember what he was supposed to be doing, but he was pretty sure that saying no was the way to go. He was mad at Nate, after all. That much, he remembered. Nate was a butthole with a god complex who was always trying to fix people's lives whether they wanted it or not. And in Wade's case, that translated into making his life a living hell and turning off his TV when it was all he had to live for. Oh, to be one of Sekekama's queens and worry about nothing but gorging on wildebeests, raising adorable cubs, and occasionally getting the brains fucked out of him by the biggest, baddest lion to ever shake his luscious mane.

"Wade, I'm ten seconds from getting a fire hose and spraying you down."

Nate was still here, and Wade was popping a wistfulness boner thinking about being a beautiful, fierce lioness with a pride that cared about him and maybe six or seven kids of his very own to teach to shoot guns and order Mexican food online. He would be a great lioness.

"Okay," Wade said. He couldn't really bring himself to care about getting sprayed with a fire hose. That sounded like not a lot of fun, but it was probably better than a flamethrower. Also, he still didn't remember what he was supposed to be doing.

"Get off your ass and into the bathroom."

Oh. That. That sounded like work. Not worth it. Better to just stay here until he became one with the floor or the couch fairies gave the remote back because they too missed the life-sustaining glow of the TV.

And now Nate was hauling him to his feet fake-telekineticly so Wade had no choice but to get up.

"Why are you so mean?" he whined, "I was comfy."

"No, you're wallowing," Nate said, "Go."

Walking to the bathroom reminded him that he really, really needed to take a shit, and there were clean-ish boxers and a shirt in there already, so he didn't even have to hunt for clothes. Who said being a slob didn't pay off? Also, standing felt good, and so did the hot water, and the soap was nice change from rotting BO and week-old pee ammonia. But he wasn't going to tell Nate that because he did not need to be told he was right about anything. Seriously. It was amazing even his fake-telekinesis could hold up his huge fucking head.

By the time he was clean and clothed, Nate had bagged up the trash, untangled his katanas, pistols, and the remote, as well as an assortment of skin mags, from the depths of Davy Jones' Locker, put Wade's blanket nest in the washing machine, and had the couch and pillows on the balcony to air out.

"I should have you do all my housework," Wade said, "That was way easier than doing it myself."

"You don't do it yourself," Nate said.

"Well, sometimes, I think about doing it, and that's hard enough without actually going through the effort. So, what brings you from Who-ville all the way to Mount Crumpet? Are you taking the sleigh to the tip-top to dump it?"

"We need to talk."

About what? Wade hadn't left the apartment in two weeks. He hadn't had a job in ages. What could he possibly have done to piss Nate off?

"You mean you need to talk," he said, opening his fridge to see if there was something to eat and recoiling from the stench. Note to self: buy a new fridge. Also, booze and food.

"I mean we need to talk," Nate said, "I decided to ask Neena to bond with me--"

Wade's stomach lurched even harder than it had from the fridge smell, and he interrupted because he didn't really need to hear how blissfully happy the love of his life was with another woman. With a woman. Not with Wade. Who was a man. "And you want me to be your best man? Done. Wait, can I be the person who throws a fit if everything isn't exactly right on the bride's special day? A personal attendant. I would be so good at that. Your veil and train would never be in the wrong position, and your push-up bra would be stuffed to perfection. And don't argue about that, because I gotta be honest, you're a little challenged in the boob department, and if you want proper cleave, you're going to need a push-up and something in there to provide a little jiggle. Otherwise they won't look real, and that would be a travesty."

"Will you let me finish?"

"Yes, right, you were about to ask me to be your best man. Spoiler alert: my answer is yes." Actually, he was pretty sure Nate was about to tell him that he'd kill the shit out of him if he came within a thousand miles of him, Domino, or their destination wedding, but yeah, same difference.

"I wasn't- That's not what I was going to say." Nate took a deep breath. "I decided to ask Neena to bond with me--"

Wow, hearing it a second time wasn't any less awful. "And you want me to walk you down the aisle? Walk her down the aisle? Officiate? Cater? Tend bar? DJ? DD? Mop vomit off the floor when it's over? Mop blood off the floor when it's over?"

"Wade, just shut up for five seconds. I'm not bonding with her."

Say what?

"She said no?" Wade gawked. "What in the ass? I would never in a million years have called that."

Why would Domino turn him down? She was as completely, drippily in love with Nate as Nate was with her. Watching them together was horrible, and not just for people like Wade and Irene who were in love with Nate and having to watch him be smitten with another woman. With a woman. Who was not Wade. Who, again, was a man. A man. God, he needed to remember that.

"I never asked her," Nate snapped, finally losing patience, "and if you'll stop interrupting, I can explain."

"Why didn't you- sorry, sorry, shutting up. You'll explain if I shut up. Shutting up now."

"I went to the courthouse on Providence to get the preliminaries started, and when they tested my blood, they said I was already bonded."

So, that was what this was about. He needed someone whacked, and he couldn't do it himself. And what was the one thing Wade was good for? Killing motherfuckers. That was fine, but he was getting paid this time. Wait, no. It could be a wedding present. Then he wouldn't have to come up with one later. Although, he was pretty sure you didn't have to give them a present if you weren't invited to the wedding, and he was definitely not invited to the wedding. So. Paid. Or maybe, doing it pro bono would get Nate off his jock about being a good person or whatever other bullshit he was on about. Wade was not a good person, and he was never going to be. The sooner Nate got over that fact, the better for all of them.

"And you want me to kill whoever it is? Done." It wouldn't be as satisfying as killing Domino, who Nate actually wanted to bond with, but it'd be better than not killing anyone. "Just point me at 'em, and your problems are solved. Wait, when did you bond? Who is it?"

"It's you."

It was a long moment before Wade's brain could come up with a response to that. "Sphincter says what?"

"I'm bonded to you."

Oh. That was why Nate was here. To kill him. Well, that did kind of make sense. Didn't make sense that he was warning him like this because that generally led to a fight, but maybe Nate was bored. Really, though, Wade didn't have anything to live for, so he wasn't going to bother. Probably. Maybe, Nate could figure out how to make killing him stick with all that sciency crap, and then Wade could be with his forever girl just like Nate would be. Actually, that sounded kind of nice. Him and Death in epic love for all eternity instead of watching from the sidelines while Nate got his happily-ever-after on and Wade pined hopelessly and wound up in the poorhouse because he had one marketable skill and no one would hire him to use it. Wade could get behind that. But there were a few questions he wanted answers to before he was dead and couldn't ask.

Like how in hell he'd been bonded to Nate and neither of them knew it.

"When?" Wade asked, "How? I'm pretty sure I'd remember that happening."

"I don't know, but my best guess is when we swapped DNA to get rid of the Facade Virus."

"I can not be the only one who heard how homoerotic that sounded. I'd offer to kill myself, but I've died more than a few times since then, and it clearly hasn't made a difference. Maybe, if you did it?" Inviting him to do it was giving permission, right? That'd make things easier. Maybe, Nate wouldn't drag this out if he knew Wade wasn't going to fight him and that he wouldn't need to feel guilty after. He could just make it quick and easy. Better for both of them. Grooms-to-be didn't need more stress in their lives. Or their deaths.

"Did what?" Nate asked and then saw the pistol Wade was holding out, "Kill you? No. I don't care if you'd heal in a few hours. Just no."

Wade wasn't sure what the big deal was. It wasn't like Nate hadn't wasted him before. Although, now he thought about it, that had been before they'd bonded. Literally or metaphorically.

"Oh, right, that'd probably hurt you a lot too since we're bonded and all and losing your bondmate is supposed to suck hella balls." Stupid stupid stupid. Of course, Nate wouldn't want to do that.

"That's not- it's fine, okay?" Nate said, looking pained, "This doesn't have to be a problem."

Wait. Wait. It was fine? He didn't have a problem being bonded to Wade? He didn't mind? He wasn't jumping at the first opportunity to get the hell away as fast as his fake-TK enhanced speed could carry him?

"You're okay with this?" Wade asked. Maybe, Nate did actually like him like that a little. Maybe, he did want to bond with Wade like Wade wanted to bond with him. You wouldn't be fine being bonded to someone you didn't have any kind of feelings for, right? Maybe, Nate wasn't taking the sleigh to the tip-top to dump it. Maybe, he was going to bring the Grinch back to Who-ville with him and teach him the true meaning of Christmas, feed him Who-hash, and let him crave the roast beast. That was the weirdest euphemism for sex.

"It's fine," Nate said, "We'll adjust. I'm not sure how we missed it so far, but I suppose your healing factor would take care of any discomfort you might feel, and I'm used to constant pain from the techno-organic mesh and headaches from telepathy. We both must have shrugged off any separation problems, and now that we know, we'll adjust."

"By adjust, you mean spend more time together," Wade said, pretending he wasn't hopping up and down in excitement internally. They could hang out and go on dates and watch Golden Girls together and maybe Nate would let him use one of his BFGs. Maybe, Nate would ask him to come back to Providence. Now that it was permanently located and Nate wasn't omnipotent anymore, they'd had to beef up security, and Wade was very, very good at being beefy, so he'd have a job and be contributing to society and his work would by definition allow him to sate some of his desire to shoot and stab things, and then Nate would be proud of him for doing good, and he would have to take time away from work to see Wade and talk to him and hang out with him because they were bonded, so it wouldn't be like when he was happy with Wade but didn't have the time of day for him.

"Yes," Nate said.

"Can I come back to Providence?"

"That's not a good idea. I'll come here for a few hours a couple times a week until we figure out what we need to keep the bond settled."

That sounded like he was trying to figure out the absolute minimum amount of time he had to spend with Wade.

That was a big comedown from his fantasies.

"It's not ideal," Nate was saying, "I'd rather it were Neena, but it's fine."

Wade ignored the way his insides twisted. Disappointment sucked. He usually wasn't this disappointed because he didn't let himself get his hopes up, but there was something about Nate that made it hard not to. Maybe, it was the part where sometimes, it seemed like he actually liked Wade instead of barely tolerating him like everyone else.

"What are you going to do about Dom?" Wade asked. Because even though he knew the answer already, he needed to hear this. He needed to hear Nate tell his stupid, stupid brain flat out that just because they were bonded, it didn't mean Nate was his or that Nate wanted him at all. It was just something Nate was willing to work around to be happy rather than go to the trouble of figuring out how to sever a bond without killing anyone or how to kill the un-killable man.

"We'll continue as we have been as long as she has no objections," Nate said, "It hasn't been a problem so far, and bonds can be platonic."

Because that was what Wade wanted. A magical connection he was supposed to get once in a lifetime with his perfect soulmate to someone who wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, barely wanted to have a conversation with him, and was actively in a sexual and romantic relationship with a beautiful, talented, less-morally bankrupt than Wade, super-spy. And Wade couldn't even pay for sex without getting a lecture on ethics from said bondmate, or make money to pay for said sex because that person had shot him in the foot, career-wise.

Dream come true right there. How lucky was he?

Not that it mattered what Wade wanted. You could tell how much Nate cared what Wade wanted by the number of times he'd asked.

"Are you going to tell her about, you know, me?" Wade asked instead of bringing that up because it didn't really matter. Nate would just bring up a zillion well-reasoned arguments that Wade couldn't talk around and get his way anyway. Easier to just skip that part and how stupid and frustrated and insignificant it made him feel.

"Yes," Nate said, "She should know there's a reason I can't ask her to bond."

"I'd think you'd be a little more pissed about that," Wade said.

"There's nothing to be done. Getting angry won't help."

"No one gets mad because it'll help. They get mad because something pisses them off."

"And they can choose to let it go when there's no point in being angry. This was an accident, and if anyone is to blame for it, it's me."

"Good lord, I can see the seeds of that damned granola-eater just lurking right there behind the guns and the explosions. You are one camel away from a broken back, aren't you?"

"What?" Nate looked confused. Oh, right. Wade never told him about Brother Nathan or War or that techo-organic Borg thing.

"Nothing," Wade said, "Just promise me you won't grow your hair long and start wearing a robe and carrying a staff. No Gandalf cosplay for you no matter how much he kicks ass after he comes back from fighting the balrog. Say it with me, 'Dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udun. Go back to the Shadow. You cannot pass!' And then smash the bridge of Khazad Dum and plunge into the depths of the mines--"

"What in hell are you talking about?"

"Your Gandalf cosplay. You could be Saruman, I guess, but he's a bad guy. Although, he does kind of have the megalomania thing going for him like you do."

"First of all, if I was going to cosplay Lord of the Rings, I'd be Elrond, and second of all, can we get back to the subject?"

This. This was the problem with Nate. He kept doing things that made Wade think he actually got him and liked him as a person, and it wasn't fair when he really didn't. It was a- a cocktease for his heart.

"Hump-backed dromedaries?" Wade asked. He should say hump more. Hump. Hump. Hump. Hump. Hump. Hump. Hump. Hump.

"Will you stop saying hump, please?"

"Sorry, I thought that was just in my third-person narrative. Chimichanga. Chimichanga. Chimichanga."

"Okay, that's marginally better."

"Chimichanga. So, what's your schedule like, Priscilla, and are you expecting me to have dinner on the table when you get home from work? Chimichanga. Chimichanga."

"It doesn't have to be over meal time."

"All time is meal time. Chimichanga. What were you thinking? Netflix and chill before bed?"

"Don't think I don't know that's a euphemism for sex, but we can watch TV together for a few hours in the evening. That'd be fine. We can start with three times a week and then increase or decrease depending on how we feel."

"What if I have a job?" Wade asked, "Chimichanga. Chimichanga."

Nate gave him a raised eyebrow that made Wade want to gouge his eyes out. Like it wasn't his fault Wade couldn't find work.

"Shut up, I have plans. People are gonna be tripping over themselves to hire me."

"Wade..."

"It doesn't involve killing anyone, so don't get all prissy and uptight on me, you damned hypocrite. The only one gonna get hurt is already a dangerous criminal, and he'll be trying to kill me too."

"That sounds like a bad plan."

"It's a great plan. Weas is in on it, and he's not an idiot like me."

"Just be careful."

"No. I'm never careful."

Chapter Text

Wade did not clean his apartment before Nate came over.

Really. He didn't.

He did tidy up a tiny bit. Just a little bit. Not that much at all.

Okay, he cleaned. But he wasn't very good at it, so it didn't count. It pretty much consisted of picking up the trash in the living-room, hauling the bags of garbage Nate had filled when he'd come over for their chat out to the dumpster (AKA: throwing them out his window into the alley where the dumpster was), bringing the couch and pillows in from the balcony, and re-running the load of blankets that he'd forgotten about and now smelled a like mildew. Bleach would take care of that, right? Wade didn't know how much were you supposed to put into a load of laundry, so he just dumped some in and called it a day, and the holes and white spots he found later weren't even that big, so all in all, it was a success.

He also threw the rotting fridge into the dumpster and got the new one plugged in and running and filled with spicy, spicy Mexican foods and booze. The mess in the master bedroom was easy to mask just by closing the door, which was less work than cramming everything in the closet or under the bed like he might have if sex were on the table, and he shoved the mess in the bathroom into the tub and drew the shower curtain. Voila. Instant clean. A little Febreeze to take care of the smell, and Wade was feeling pretty fancy. He should be a 1950's housewife with the poofy skirt and the bandanna tied around his hair and the pointy boobs.

He was trawling the internet for a dress in his size when Nate arrived. Nate did not compliment his cleaning efforts, ungrateful jerk that he was, but he also didn't comment on the bird shit Wade had forgotten to scrape off the couch, so it was like breaking even. He just sat on one of the spotty blankets, ate the popcorn Wade made for them, and pretended to watch Maude while actually doing work on the infonet in his head. And Wade pretended he didn't know he was doing it and that he didn't mind Nate was spending their quality time working and not paying attention to him. It wasn't like Nate had signed up for this. He was just making a shitty situation work.

Wade did try to make conversation a few times, but there were only so many one word answers he could hear without losing heart. So he gave up and went back to Maude, who also wasn't paying attention to him, but Bea couldn't help that her writers didn't let her break the fourth wall, so he didn't hold it against her.

The 'bonding' sessions went pretty much exactly the same way for the next couple months. The only real changes were what they watched and the times when one or the other of them had to reschedule. Then Nate said his headaches were gone and he was feeling a lot better and they could cut back to two times a week and see how that went, and Wade said okay even though he was feeling worse than before instead of better and his heat was coming up, which meant he really needed to be seeing more of Nate and not less. It wasn't like he really had a say in this. Nate wasn't asking if that was okay with Wade. He was telling him how things were going to be. Besides, Nate hadn't asked about his heats or offered to spend them with him, so Wade figured he didn't want to. Obviously, Nate would be spending rut with Domino.

It was fine. Wade would just spend his heat with Blind Al like he usually did. She could rub his back when he had cramps and make him drink gross tea that was hot but still somehow made his body cool down and let him lay his head in her lap while she read to him from the Mary Kate and Ashley books until it was over. Al loved coddling Wade and catering to his every whim. He was sure of it.

When his heat came around, Wade called Nate and told him he had a job that required him to go undercover for a week or so and rescheduled their 'bonding' time for when his heat should be over. Nate didn't even suspect the lie. Wade was getting better at the whole hiding things from him schtick. Or maybe, Nate just didn't care to know the truth. Whatever it was, Nate didn't question his story, and Wade spent an unusually unpleasant three days holed up in Blind Al's apartment, crying on her shoulder and spilling all his woes while his libido raged out of control and his insides tried to tear themselves out of his body. Metaphorically. Not literally. His life was weird enough for that to be a literal problem, but in this case, it was just what it felt like. Heats without your bondmate sucked, it turned out. They were never that bad before.

He still felt like shit two days later when Nate came over for Netflix and chill. Not the fun kind of Netflix and chill. The kind that was literal. His life was not awesome enough for that to be a metaphor. He heard the door open and close, but didn't bother to look away from the TV. Bea Arthur was there in all her glory, and right now, she was the only thing making him feel even remotely human.

"Wade?" Nate's weight settled onto the couch next to him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Wade mumbled, not taking his eyes off Bea.

"Did something happen on your job?"

That made Wade look up. "What are you talking about?"

Nate's gaze flicked down, and Wade realized that he was curled in the fetal position, knees against his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them. Classic 'I'm not okay' posture. Shit. He forced himself to untuck and put his feet on the floor, but the second they were there, he started to panic and had to curl back up.

Fuck. Maybe, he was not doing as well with this as he thought. Not to self: block out less time before his next heat and more time after. He really needed a longer recovery period, it looked like. Bea Arthur blurred. Something was wrong with his TV. And the rest of his apartment. Wait, no, that was tears. Shit. Where was his mask? He needed to be wearing his mask right now. He sniffed to try and stop them and turned his face away so Nate wouldn't see.

"Wade?" Nate was a lot closer now, radiating warmth and sounding concerned, sounding like he gave a damn if Wade was okay.

"Nothing happened," Wade said, and his voice sounded watery, "I'm just having an emotional day."

"Ah," was all Nate said. He shifted closer again until they were almost touching, draped an arm across the back of the couch behind Wade, and then offered him a box of Puffs. That was nice. Wade didn't even know he owned tissues. Weas or Bob must have brought them. He blew his nose because it was runny and gross and wiped his eyes so he could see Bea in perfect HD clarity.

When the TV ran out of Golden Girls episodes, Wade found himself snuggled up against Nate's side, clutching the Puffs box and the remote. It was way past the time when Nate usually left, and he was conked out completely, somehow not snoring or drooling. He didn't wake up when Wade slide out from under his arm and lowered him so he was laying in the couch or when he shoved a throw pillow under his head, hauled his enormous feet up, and covered him with a blanket, but he was gone by the time Wade came out of his bedroom in the morning.

They didn't talk about it the next time Nate came, but Nate did make an effort to talk to Wade. Like at all. And that became the new normal for them. Netflix and chill and talking a little bit. Unfortunately, every conversation they had somehow always circled back to Domino and how great she was, because when you were in love with someone the way Nate was with her, you thought about that person and talked about them all the fucking time, and talking about Wade's work with Agency X would probably get him a long, boring, uncomfortable lecture about 'living up to his potential' and 'doing the right thing' instead of doing whatever paid the best. He did pro bono work sometimes, okay, but he couldn't only do shit for free if he wanted to pay for his rent and food and be obscenely rich. It wasn't like people ever appreciated it when he stepped up and did the hero thing, anyway. No, all he got was backlash for being excessively violent and destructive and the bonafide heroes telling him to fuck off. Or everyone just ignored it.

Nate certainly never noticed.

Chapter Text

The whole two times a week thing was working great for Nate, apparently, but Wade felt like shit. Even with his healing factor. Headaches, weird pains in his bones, arrhythmia (he'd had to Web MD his symptoms to figure out that one, and it had suggested he go to a doctor, and so, he'd shot his phone and had to buy a new one), and he had no energy. Ever. It was a problem. Sandi and Outlaw were giving him shit. Even Alex had the audacity to comment, that stupid fat fuck. Which meant Wade had to do something, because Agency X was all he had going for him right now. He was not looking forward to the annoyance and put-upon sighs he was going to get when he brought it up, but he figured if he waited until just before Nate left to say anything, at least he wouldn't have to deal with it for very long.

Which was why he'd been eyeing the clock nervously for the last hour.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" Nate asked.

"What? Nope. No plans. None. Wade has nothing going on. Not at all."

"That was convincing."

"I do, however, need to pee," Wade lied, and then he fled to the bathroom to hide because he was a coward. And he actually did pee too, because it turned out that once he stood up, he needed to go. Bladders were weird. He used the time it took him to take a dump to psych himself up for the conversation he needed to have, but it wasn't terribly effective because he couldn't do it out loud without stupid Nate overhearing somehow and it was hard not to talk shit about himself in his head, and that was not great for getting psyched up.

Nate was still there when he got out, which was disappointing, because this conversation would be so much easier via text message. but Blind Al and Weas both said he had to do it in person, not over the phone or with a formally-worded email, and they were both smarter than Wade, so they were probably right.

"What's going on, Wade?"

"Nothing. Nothing is going on. Why would you think something was going on? Have you been talking to Weasel?"

"No." Nate cocked his head on the side. "Should I be?"

"No! He's insane. Don't listen to a word he says, especially if it has to do with me. Pack of lies."

"I'm sure. Want to tell me why you've been staring at the clock the entire time I've been here and why you just hid in the bathroom for half an hour to avoid talking to me?"

Wade pouted. "I did not hide. I never hide unless it gives me a tactical advantage."

"And what tactical advantage did you gain from hiding in the bathroom just now?"

"Well, you're confused and unsure of my motives, for one, and I was not hiding."

"You're avoiding my question."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Wade."

"Fine, two days a week isn't working for me. I know you feel Tee-riffic and all, but I'm dragging ass, and Sandi an' Outlaw noticed, and I can't have them thinking I'm not young and virile and ready to go at a moment's notice."

Nate sat up straight. "We've been doing two days a week for three months. Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"This whole thing ain't about me; it's about making you happy and comfortable. I know that. I wouldn't be saying anything now if the girls hadn't said it was a problem, but they did. So, I am. 'Cause I kind of need to keep my job." Dang, Wade was good. He'd used a semi-colon. A semi-colon! The most difficult of all the punctuations. But he'd also said 'ain't', so... kind of a wash.

"What do you mean it's not about you?" Nate demanded, looking confused, "You're half of this bond. Of course, it's about you."

Wade barely managed not to laugh out loud. "No, it isn't."

"It is. Or it should be. I've been thinking about it that way. Why do you think it's all about me?"

For such a smart guy, Nate was a fucking idiot, but he was starting to get that stubborn look on his face, and that meant he was gearing up for a good long argument, and Wade just didn't have one in him right now.

"Alright," he said, because agreeing was the fastest way to get this conversation done, "It's about me, and I'm sayin' I want to go back to three days a week. See you Tuesday. Bye, now."

He turned to go hide in his bedroom where his weapons were like the coward he was not, but Nate grabbed his shoulder.

"Wade," he said, pulling him around so he could see his face, and Wade really needed to start wearing his mask when they were together, "Answer the question. Why did you think this was all about me, and your needs didn't matter?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Wade said because he was seconds from losing it and blubbering like a baby, and he was not going to do that in front of Nate. That was for after he left. Or never. Because Wade was a man. A tough, manly-man who didn't cry.

"This is important," Nate said.

"No, it isn't. It was a stupid problem, and it's already solved. And you said your bit about me having a say in this, so good for you. You have plausible deniability if I complain about something again in the future."

Nate's forehead scrunched. "Your problems aren't stupid, and this is clearly not resolved. Also, that's not what plausible deniability means."

"Jesus Christ, I already agreed with you, what else do you want from me? Just drop it."

"Is that what you think I want?" Nate looked hurt now, which absolutely didn't make sense because, duh, that's what he wanted. "For you to just agree to everything I say?"

"You know what?" Wade shook Nate's hands off his shoulders and crossed his arms on his chest. "I'm not doing this. If you really think this is about what I need, then fine. I'm telling you I need to not talk about this, and I need you to leave now."

Nate sighed, but he didn't keep arguing, and he did leave. And he didn't even try to bring it up again when he came on Tuesday. He did bring apology tacos, though, which was nice. He didn't say they were apology tacos, but Wade could read between lines, and while they were eating, Nate asked what exactly it was about Bea Arthur that Wade liked so much and then listened while he told him about her countless multitude of virtues. Really listened, too, not pretending to while actually working in his head, and that was also nice.

Chapter Text

His next heat went much better. Well, the heat didn't, but taking extra days after it was over before seeing Nate again was a good idea. And he even remembered he was supposed to do it that way, so score. Wade was not huddled in a ball of misery when their next bonding day rolled around. He was maybe a little clingier than usual, but Nate didn't seem bothered or like he really noticed the difference. Maybe he did, though, because he stayed longer than he normally would, but that might have been because they were in the middle of a heated but civilized debate (read loud argument that involved as much cursing and insults as it did actual arguing) over the merits of missile launchers versus mortars and whether or not some of Nate's BFGs qualified as artillery. It was hard to leave when you still had points to make.

Five days after that, Nate called him to ask if he'd help X-Force take down the latest threat to humanity and more specifically, threat to Nate's tropical fish tank. Wade said yes because it sounded fun and Agency X was having a lot of down time at the moment. Sandi said it was the slow season, and he was taking her word for it because he didn't fucking know if that was a thing or not.

Working with X-Force was fun except for the part where it sucked. The fighting was fun, his teammates were cool, he got to see Terry, and he looked hella professional as part of the team. Screw you, stupid generals and people who said he was too flaky to hire. The sucky part was seeing Nate with Domino and Domino with Nate. Because they were crazy in love, and Wade was super in the way of that with his accidental bond to Nate preventing them from bonding like they clearly wanted to, and that sucked for them maybe more than it sucked for him. It definitely sucked more for Irene than it did for him. He could go home and be far, far away. She had to live with it. Based on the death glares she was shooting Domino and Nate, she was not coping very well .

Holy awkward, Batman.

"Well," Wade said cheerily, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "This has been a resounding success, and I, for one, plan to celebrate with lots and lots of drinks. None of you are invited except Merryweather here. It's a closed party. VIP. And she is the only one VI enough to attend. Except you, Terry. You're always VI enough, but you're too young to drink, so you can't come. Grown-ups only."

"I'm old enough to drink, Wade," Terry said.

"Shhh. No, you're not. Let's go, Merryweather. Those shots aren't going to do themselves, you know, and we have what? Four fine establishments to grace with our presence, or have they added more since I left? That's a pretty high number considering your population. What kind'a joint you runnin' here anyway? Sounds like something the rest of the world ought to emulate."

"I'm not going bar hopping with you, you pinhead," Irene snarled, turning her vaporizing glare on him.

He slung an arm over her shoulders and started leading her toward the door. "Now, Peach Tree, don't be reticent. I'm the hero of the day. This is my reward for services rendered. Drinks with my most favoritest reporter-turned-head of state before I get the stanky boot from the state's hulking figurehead and am forced to go celebrate somewhere the drinks aren't free."

"Alcohol's a non-essential," she said, "It's not free here either."

Wade pushed her into the hallway and closed the door behind them. "Read between the lines, Merryweather, and also, on what planet is alcohol not essential?"

"What lines?"

"God, you're denser than me. Do you need me to talk in small words? Me Deadpool. You Irene. We drink 'til livers fail. Feel better. Glug glug. We're gonna go get drinks and talk. That's all. Just talk. No funny business, and a minimum amount of sleazy come-ons."

"Deadpool..."

"Tell me honestly that you don't want to get annihilated right now," he said, "I mean, come on. You saw that shitshow back there with the googly eyes and the floating hearts and the 'good shooting, Domino'. If I had to live with it, I'd be plastered all the time. How you aren't already a raging alcoholic, I'll never know."

"I'm not having sex with you," she said.

He held his hand in a boy scout salute and put the other over his heart. "No hanky-panky. DP will keep his hands to himself. Promise."

She sighed and looked annoyed, but she also followed him down to the biggest bar on Providence and sat at a table with him. It was busy and loud. Perfect. Now, he just needed to get her hammered so she could forget her woes and hopefully forget the details of the conversation they were about to have. He snagged a waitress on her way past.

"Shots," he hollered over the noise, "All the shots. For me an' for her. Double for me and keep 'em coming. You want anything else, Merryweather?"

"Nothing less than a hundred proof," Irene said.

"That's my girl." Wade patted her shoulder and grinned, watching the waitress and her tiny skirt disappear into the crowd.

"What do you want, Wade?"

"Ah ah ah, not until after we both have a couple drinks in us. I don't talk about feelings until I'm at least tipsy and preferably after I'm too far gone to remember what I said in the morning."

"I don't care about your feelings," she said, and he appreciated the brutal honesty even if it didn't feel great to hear it.

"Rude," he said, "but this isn't about my feelings. It's about yours. I owe you an apology and maybe an explanation, and I ain't doing it while I'm sober."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. At least, not until I'm well on my way to not being able to feel my face."

"I shouldn't have come here," she said, leaning back and folding her arms over her chest, "I have to work tomorrow."

"Wear lots of make-up and dark sunglasses and sleep at your desk like everyone else," Wade said.

"You're the worst."

"True dat, but I'm also paying for your drinks, so tonight, I'm your best friend. Come on, Merryweather, I'm giving you a clear shot at my wallet and telling you to hit as hard as you can, and we both know there's nothing I love more in life than my money."

"Why are you being so weird tonight?" She sounded suspicious.

"I'm always weird," Wade said, and then turned to take the drinks from the waitress, "Ah, life-giving shots, nectar of the gods. Deadpool will soon feel strength and renewal flowing through him. Darling, you are a pearl of humanity. I'm going to need about twenty more of these in ten minutes. Can you do that for me?"

The waitress gave him a look, but he tucked a couple hundreds into her bra and she didn't argue after that. What a woman. Irene was two shots in by the time he turned back to face her. He took a few seconds to catch up.

"You can officially blame any blubbering you need to do on alcohol now," Irene said, "So, what do you want?"

He did another shot to gird his loins and jumped right in. "I knew about Domino. I should have warned you, but I didn't. I'm sorry."

She glared at him like she was considering smashing her shot glass on his face. "You knew he was trying to get her back?"

"No," Wade said, "Not that part. I knew she was back on the scene in general, and that should have been enough to make me get my ass in gear and give you a heads up."

"A heads up?"

"Yeah. See, Nate and Dom go way back, and even though it was over between them, I knew he wasn't over her. And really,
he's never gonna be. She's it for him, Merryweather. I know you and Nate had a thing going, kind of, but it was never going to last. Not if he had a chance of getting her back, and Nate makes his chances whenever he can. I didn't say nothin' when I noticed you making eyes at him and him flirting with you because I thought Dom was out. I thought she'd never take him back. That was why I didn't warn you straight off that he was hung up on her. Didn't think it mattered. But now he reeled her back in, and you got the shit end of the deal, and I could have made it a little less bad by preparing you beforehand, only I dropped the ball."

She stared at him hard but a little less angrily and then did a couple more shots. He doubled down because he was suddenly worried that she'd pound them all and die of alcohol poisoning and then Providence would burn to the ground in fifteen minutes because she kept the place from coming apart at the seams, and then Nate would really kill him. Wade had better keep track of how many she was putting away and maybe order food.

"You want wings or something?" he asked glancing around to see if he could spot Tiny Skirt Huge Rack, "I'm hungry all of a sudden."

"Yes," Irene said, "I want everything."

Well, he had said for her to give it her best shot. Boobalicious snapped her gum and said 'sure' when he told her he wanted one of everything one the menu, double of anything that even remotely smacked of Mexican food, and to seriously water down Irene's next round of shots.

Irene was already mopey and tearing up over her drinks. Looked like she was a lightweight. Good call on the water, Wade.

"Why is he such an ass?" she asked.

He handed her a napkin. "All users are assholes, even the nice ones like him."

"He's not a user," she said, blotting her eyes.

Wade patted her hand and tried not to be too condescending. "Yeah, he is. It's what he does. He sees what people are good at, and he uses them to make things happen. Everyone and everything around him is a tool he can use to achieve his goals. His goals just happen to be the maximum good for humanity and the world at large. So, after he's drained you dry and you're feelin' like shit and start protesting that you just got stomped on, everyone says shut up, look how much good came out of it. Wasn't it worth it now that all these people are safer and happier and life is better over all? And the worst part is that it is worth it and you can't really be mad, but that don't make you feel any less like a dirty sock he wore holes in the toes of. And even if you got washed up and sewed a patch on the hole and someone still wears you on the regular, it would have been nice if he maybe didn't put the holes there to start with."

"He uses me to run his country," she said morosely. Ah, that was the spirit.

"You're good at it," Wade said, because it was true.

"He knew I would be. Just like he knew I wouldn't quit when it got to be a cluster headache and he ran off into the sunset with fucking Domino. I'm an idiot."

"Join the club. I'm the president and dictator-for-life. I can get you a membership card."

She gave him a half-hearted stink-eye. "You're lucky. You don't have to watch him with her all day long."

He finished his first round of shots and started the next one. "No, I don't, but I ain't hardly what I'd call lucky. I'm bonded to the guy, and he doesn't want anything to do with me. You got a better shot with him than I do, and I have a bond with the fucker."

She sighed miserably. "No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do. He likes you. He trusts you. He respects the hell out of you. Why else would he let you run his island? This is his dream, babe. This is his hope for the future, and he lets you run it. That's about the highest compliment he can give. The most he lets me do is kill people to keep them from getting to it and occasionally pop in for a supervised visit if there's an emergency and he needs me there to slice and dice soon but not just yet. I'm a wind-up sex doll, Merryweather. He turns the little key, points me at whoever he wants to get fucked, and I fuck them up for him."

Wade threw back several more shots. He was almost out. Where was Bouncy Tits? He needed more drinks.

"He likes you more than that." Irene was frowning at him. "You're his friend."

Wade laughed a little too loud. He was on his way to being properly drunk. Excellent.

"No, I ain't," he said, "You're his friend. I ain't even a person. I'm a mad dog on a chokechain. You think I don't hear the psycho on a leash jokes? I hear 'em. You know what I don't hear? Him denyin' it. You know why that is?"

"Because it's absurd?" she said. She was so cute and delusional. He almost hated to disillusion her, but it'd be better in the long run. The truth would set her free.

He booped her nose. "Because it's true. Nate don't lie. Oh, he don't always come out with the truth. He'll withhold all day long, but if he's gonna open his mouth and say somethin', whatever comes out will be the god-damned truth. He don't have time for bullshit. That's why he doesn't tell 'em they're wrong. 'Cause they're right. I'm a dog on a chain, and he'll let me run around in the yard as long as I do it the way he wants, but the minute I start barkin' at passersby or bite the mailman, he'll yank on the chain 'til I can't do anythin' but lay there and hope he stops. An' then we lather, rinse, repeat until the day comes where I finally just do things his way 'cause I'm too tired to deal with the choking anymore, and then everyone will pat him on the back and say congrats, Cable, you tamed the un-tamable man, an' he'll get to feel proud of himself for fixin' me, for turnin' me from a junky broken Chucky into one of those nice plushies that never hurt no one, an' if that don't work out, if it ever gets to a point where he thinks I can't be fixed, where I really am a bad dog, he's gonna take me out back and shoot me, an' that'll be that. Nate don't give up on people unless there isn't even a shred of hope left. If he thinks they can't be saved, it's 'cause there ain't nothin' left in them worth savin', and if that's the way it is, he just kills 'em and has done with it."

"He wouldn't do that. You're his bondmate." She looked horrified that he would suggest something like that.

"He'd do it," Wade said, "Know how I know? 'Cause he told me so. An' Nate don't lie."

"But you're bonded to him."

"So? Won't make a lick of difference. That's the thing about Nate. It don't matter how badly it affects him, if something needs doing, he'll do it. Even if it means killin' his bondmate for the greater good. He's that selfless. Really. Only thing he lets himself be selfish about is Domino. That's how I know she's his forever girl. Shots! And app-e-teezers. Excellent. Hey, hey, toots, eyes up. I know the scars are gruesome, but you can text your therapist about it later. DP needs lots more drinkies to get him through the night. Here's a couple more Benjamins to keep you on your feet. Now, less gawky, more fetchy. Kids these days. You'd think they'd never seen a horribly disfigured man before."

"I'm gonna kick Nate in the balls so hard tomorrow," Irene said fiercely, clutching his hand. She looked pissed, too, so she probably meant it. It'd be funny to watch that, but Wade was heading back to New York as soon as he made sure she got home safely. She was pretty hammered and still drinking. But she was also eating the mozzarella balls and a bread stick, which was hilarious but he wasn't gonna comment, he wasn't, and eating food would help keep her from overdoing it with the booze.

"Maybe stretch first," he said, "He's pretty tall."

"I can reach," she said very seriously, "I do yoga."

"Cool. You want help with your form? I can give you pointers. I have personal experience, an' I can stand on a phone book or something if you want to do some practice runs."

"No, I don't want it to seem rehearsed," she said, "I have the perfect shoes. I bought them a long time ago, but I never wear them because they're stilettos and I'm constantly on my feet for work, but I'm gonna wear them tomorrow."

"Oh, I so hear that. Heels make my thighs look great, but you wouldn't believe how hard it is to do acrobatic sword fightin' in 'em, and if one breaks when somethin' 'splodes or you fall out of an airplane, it throws your balance way off. I twist more ankles that way, I swear."

They stayed there, commiserating, until the food was gone and Wade was down to one last hundred dollar bill and then got a cab to take then to Irene's place to drop her off. When he walked her to her door, (read carried her into her apartment and dumped her on her side on the couch) he told her she could come crash in his nicest safe house, the one that wasn't a complete hole and was taken care of by a cleaning service, if she ever needed to get away from the lovefest. Because he got how much it sucked, and he liked Irene even if she didn't like him. He tucked the key to his safe house into her pocket, wrote the security code on her sleeve in brown eye-liner because it was all he could find, turned off the lights, and took the cab to the launch pad to catch his own ride home.

She'd come to his safe house twice since then to get shitfaced and maudlin and cry on his shoulder. He let her even though he wasn't as good at that as Blind Al, and then brought her greasy hangover food in the morning and introduced her to the least shady of the hook-up websites, so she could get laid, and to My Little Pony, because friendship was magic and he wanted to reassure her he wasn't trying to hit on her. And despite her hotness, he really wasn't trying to get into her pants.

Chapter Text

Wade bounced back and forth between X-Force and Agency X for a month or two and then came to the conclusion that this couldn't go on. He needed to do something. The more he saw Nate and Dom together, the more obvious it became that this bond was a problem no matter what Nate said about it being fine, and if Nate wasn't going to corral his think tank into fixing it, Wade would have to take matters into his own hands.

In some deep part of him, where all the shit he repressed lurked to pop out and torment him at the least convenient moments, he'd been hoping that if Nate was forced to spend time with him, maybe he would fall out of love with Dom and into love with him, but that was not happening. It was a stupid fantasy, and he needed to smack some sense into himself, clearly, if he was moronic enough to let himself think, on any level, that something like that might happen. Things like that never happened to him, and they never would. But Wade could prove to Nate that he wasn't a piece of shit and maybe earn his respect and make him happy for real if he figured out a way for him to be with the love of his life. There was no way that wasn't a good thing to do.

The problem was that Wade had no idea how to do that shit, and Weasel said he wouldn't even know where to start. Wade was going to pretend the look Weas gave him when he asked him to do it was not pity, because if it was, he'd have to knock Weasel's teeth down his throat, and that wouldn't be conducive to coming up with a brilliant solution.

His next go-to guy was Fixer, but that was a no-go too, which sucked despite the brilliant wordplay Wade could make of it, because his bond to Nate apparently wasn't something that needed 'fixing'. There was nothing wrong with their bond except that Nate didn't want it. Not broken, so not in need of fixing, and no amount of semantics could change the guy's mind. Or money. And Wade offered him an absurd amount of money. Nay, an offensive amount of money. But he wouldn't even try.

Which led to Wade's small killing spree as he broke into Hydra and AIM bases and Chemistro's lair and maybe a few Weapon X facilities looking for illegal research that might help him, or help Weasel if you wanted to get technical about it. Okay, Weapon X was the first place he went because he knew they tried to do shit like that, and being there maybe contributed to him freaking out a little and falling off the non-lethal bandwagon. Kind of a lot off the wagon. He may have killed the oxen pulling the wagon. That was a funny word, oxen. Oxen. Oxen. Oxen. Oxen.

But yeah, lots of people dead, and Nate found out, and now, he was giving Wade his disappointed face.

He wasn't holding a gun on him or pummeling him, though, which was surprising. Maybe he was tired from work or something. Taking a day off from his BFGs so when he did take them out, it was still a special experience.

"You were doing so well. What the hell changed?"

Wade shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Things just got out of control. It's hard to stop killing once I start."

"I'm wondering why you started," Nate said and it sounded like he was being careful with his words for some reason, "And why were you hunting down Hydra and AIM?"

Oh, good. He didn't know about the Weapon X facilities. That was not a conversation Wade wanted to have.

"Got a job," he said, which was only mostly a lie, "One of the two of them has something of my client's, and I need to find it and steal it back. Only, I don't know which of them has it."

"And Chemistro?"

Shit, maybe Nate did know about Weapon X and just hadn't brought them up yet.

"Long shot," Wade said coolly, hoping his panic didn't show on his face, "Wasn't having any luck, and he busted a Hydra lock box not too long ago. He might have stolen what I needed from them."

All of these things were technically true. God, Wade was good at this.

"I know you're lying," Nate said, but he didn't know what Wade was lying about, and that was the important thing. If Wade wanted to keep it that way, he should probably employ a red herring. Which here means a distraction in the form of something else Nate loved to lecture him about.

"Okay, Mr. Smarty-pants," Wade said, "I don't know who has it. Happy? I hit a wall, lost the trail. I don't have any leads. I picked Hydra because they have bad blood with my client and I have an easy in there, and I picked AIM completely at random and Chemistro because of Hydra. I didn't mean to do all the killing. It was an accident. Well, not an accident. You know what I mean. I planned on doing it all proper and heroic-like and non-lethal. I didn't even bring Hall and Oates or real bullets to the first base, but then I sort of bashed that guy's skull in with my ASP, and someone ran me over with an ice cream truck that had a cow on the side- a COW, Nate- and I flipped, and it went downhill from there."

Nate sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe, I can help. If you tell me what it is you're looking for, I can scan the infonet, see if there's anything that'll point you in the right direction."

Yeah, Wade was not going to tell him what he was trying to do. He'd already shot down the idea. Also, Wade wasn't sure he was going to be able to make it happen at all, and he didn't want to get Nate's hopes up. Besides, it was going to be his Christmas present. Maybe. If Wade could figure it out in that time frame. And then Wade would win Christmas forever. Well, no. Not forever. That wasn't possible. But for a couple years.

"It's confidential information," he said, "I can't tell you. That would be unprofessional, and apparently, the reason no one will hire me for merc work is because I'm unprofessional. Rhyme."

For some reason, that made Nate smile.

"I'm trying, Nate. I'm trying not to just kill everyone who's in my way, I swear. I'm getting back on the goody-two-shoes bandwagon, and I'm payin' Fixer to resurrect the fucking oxen. You know, metaphorically. Although, if he could do that literally, I'd probably pay to see it."

"Okay, Wade." Nate smiled again, bigger this time. "I believe you."

And fuck if Wade's heart didn't do a back-flip or two at that.

He went back to his enchilada, but Nate had brought it for him from that place on Providence when he came for dinner and bonding time, and the fact that he remembered how much Wade liked them made his heart do a few ariels and then jazz hands when it stuck the landing.

Also, it turned out, Nate liked Savage Kingdom as much as Wade did and got just as invested in the various tribes, even if he was partial to Saba instead of Sekekama, and the fact that there was a show they could watch together and both enjoy, unlike Golden Girls, which only Wade liked, or The Great British Bake-off, which Wade couldn't stand but Nate loved, did really unfair things to Wade's poor, overworked heart. Really. It needed a break, but it wasn't like he was going to say no to Nate when he came over a little earlier than he usually did to eat with Wade or stayed a little later to finish just one more episode of whatever show was on TV.

True to his promise, the next time Wade went out, it was with the ASPs as well as his katanas, because he did need his swords for chopping stuff even if not for chopping people and for the aesthetics of his costume, and tranquilizer darts in his guns even though it killed his soul just a little, and the worst he did to the Hydra goons he ran into would only result in a long hospital stay and possibly permanent brain damage. But Wade had that and he was fine, so the other guy would be fine too. He didn't find anything useful there either, he was pretty sure, but he wouldn't know until Weas had a chance to look through it because Wade didn't have any idea what the words and symbols and fancy lettering said. It was all Greek to him, except not spoken Greek, because he could totally do that. Not very well, and most of what he knew was terrible things to call people's mothers, but he could also ask where the toilet was and say chimichanga.

Then he started to have a bunch of paying jobs for Agency X, because the slow season was done apparently, if that was even a real thing, and now that he had a professional reputation again, people suddenly were jumping up and down to hire him, which was inconvenient, but he needed money and depending on what he'd been hired to do and where, he could jack info and research for his personal project while he was doing actual work, and multi-tasking was a great way to get things done. Also, he had actual real reasons to be in places, doing things, and if Nate was poking around on his fake-telepathy interwebs to see if Wade was being legit, he would find things that said he was.

Chapter Text

Wade had a problem, and it's name was Weasel. Specifically, Weasel's inability to find a way to sever his bond with Nate.

It wasn't that Weas wasn't trying. He was. Wade knew he was because he was making sure of it. But it had been four months, summer was rolling into autumn, and he was no closer to a solution than he had been when he'd hatched his brilliant plan.

It was time to field this out to someone else. And there was only one person he could think of who might be able to do it. And might be willing to do it for a reasonably low price. That was important too.

So, Wade fished out his old harness and got Weas working on making a teleportation matrix like Forge's or something close enough to do pretty much the same thing except without bodysliding because that would take Nate with him, which he was sure Weas could do. All Wade had to do was get him parts and materials and blueprints and Redbulls. Much easier to get shit done if he had an attainable goal in mind, and Weas was a lot happier about his new task. And the best part was that it meant less time breaking into labs, vaults, and the basements of shopping malls in his downtime between real jobs and pro bono shit with X-Force, and more time hanging with Nate.

For a while there, he'd barely had time for their bonding sessions, and he'd been too exhausted between work and his side project to be great company. Spent a lot of time half-asleep on Nate's shoulder, blinking dazedly at the TV and struggling to maintain a conversation. Nate had suggested that he take a few days off to rest several times if even his healing factor couldn't keep him peppy with his workload, but Wade had assured him it was just the busy season at Agency X and things would slow down again in a few months, Sandi promised. Also, Alex had almost lost enough weight to walk, and that meant he could start moving around and lose weight for real and then he could pick up some of the work as long as his pernicious arthritis, or whatever the fuck it was, wasn't too big of a problem. He woke up in his own bed with no recollection of getting there several times, so he was pretty sure Nate was tucking him in, and that made him all warm and fuzzy inside.

But now that he had a new plan, things could go back to normal. To closer to normal. Wade was still busier than he used to be. He should probably make more time for Nate now, though, because once their bond was gone, he wasn't going to be around much if at all. He'd be busy planning his bonding to Domino. Maybe, Wade should include a pair of plane tickets to Vegas and a paid ceremony with an Elvis impersonator. Nah. He'd already spent a fucking ton of money on this Christmas present. They could pay for their own shotgun wedding.

Yeah, Wade should get his time in now.

He should warn Irene that this was in the works.

She was doing better with that whole thing now. Wade was pretty sure she was dating one of Providence's new security guards, but he wasn't completely sure she was over Nate all the way. A little heads up would be a Good Friend thing to do, especially since he'd screwed the pooch when it came to warning her about Dom to begin with. Maybe, after he knew he had a way to do it. No point in stressing her out over nothing. She had enough stress on her plate running Providence. Actually, maybe he should plan Nate's wedding so Irene didn't have to do it for him. Oh, wait. Domino was the girl. She'd be the one doing the planning. Still, though, kind of a risk that Irene would get saddled with the job. God, she was in so much shittier of a situation than he was. He'd been disappointed when Nate told him he couldn't come to Providence again, but he was thankful for it now. He wasn't glued to his front row seat to that shitshow like Irene was.

He'd maybe broken into X-mansion today to get a very special bit of the teleportation matrix. One Weasel claimed he couldn't get anywhere else, and they had a spare, so he wasn't even disabling their equipment. Just picking up a part they weren't using, which he would return later. And the best part was that he hadn't hurt anyone on his way in. No one had even seen him. Getting out unseen was proving to be slightly trickier.

"Wade," Nate's voice, pitched low, came from behind him.

Wade jumped and spun to face him.

"Hi, Nate," he whispered back, waving.

"What are you doing in here? Are you insane? Don't answer that second question. That was a stupid question. But what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Just a little grab job for Weas." He held up the piece. "Nothing dangerous, nothing they'll miss, and I made him promise me I could bring it back as soon as he was done. So, it's not even a real theft. Especially if he's done before they think to see if it's still there or need it. It'll be like it never happened."

"That's not how it works," Nate said.

"It super is, though. Come on, I'm not even stealing the only one they have. It'll be fine. Weas just needs to take some scans, figure out how to make one of his own."

"Why does he need part of Forge's teleporter?"

"Hey, Weas has his own shit going on that I don't know about," Wade said, and it technically was true, "I don't ask if he doesn't want me to. He's my best bud. I asked if it was gonna end with a bunch of people dead or the world falling into wreck and ruin, and he said no. So, I said yes."

"How about I make a copy of the blueprints for you to take to Weasel and you put that back before you get caught?"

"I would totally do that." The ass-kicking he'd get from the X-men for breaking and entering would be a lot less vicious than the one he'd get for stealing from them.

"Good. Let's." Nate looked pleased. Winning.

Wade forked it over and watched him stare at it with his glowy eye and then go all distant in a way that said he was accessing the infonet, and then he was back to himself and sending the thing floating back to the workshop with his fake-telekinesis.

"I sent the data to Weasel's email," he said.

"Cool. That is a nifty trick. Hey, can you empty my email box? I haven't checked it in like six years, and the number just keeps getting bigger and bigger, and numbers that grow but aren't preceded by a dollar sign scare me."

"Sure. Now, let's go home."

Hearing Nate call Wade's apartment home did funny things to Wade's insides, but he actually had more places he had to go tonight.

"I can't. I've got another job to do after this."

"An actual job, or whatever it is you've been doing on the side?"

"Sphincter says whaaaat?" Wow, that was not a convincing denial at all.

"I'm not stupid, Wade. The hours you pull and the places you go add up to way more than they should for how much real work you take for Agency X."

"Sounds like your math is spotty. You should maybe check that again. I'd offer to help, but I suck at math. Also, boring."

"You should maybe tell me what you're up to," Nate said, firmly but not like he was mad, so that was good. He was usually mad by now.

"Or," Wade said, "counter offer, you should go take over another small fictional country and make its citizens' lives infinitely better before you get me caught, you lumbering behemoth. Stealth is not your forte."

"Rumekistan is not a fictional place, Wade."

"Oh, honey. You have such delusions."

Nate choked on a laugh and had to muffle the sound behind his hand, and that did even funnier things to Wade's tummy.

When Nate finally calmed down enough to talk, he said, "Let's go home, and you can leave for your other job from there, okay? We're about twelve seconds from being jumped by the X-men."

"I knew you'd get me caught," Wade grumbled.

"Bodyslide by two."

They came out of the slide in his apartment, and Nate herded him toward the kitchen, where Wade could smell pizza waiting for them. Pineapple and black olive, just the way he liked it. He really did have a job to do, but it wasn't like it was going to be that hard or like he had a deadline coming up urgently. He could take take time to eat supper now.

"Aaw, you got them to burn the crust," Wade said as he sat down and opened the box, "You do love me."

"Mmm-hmm." Nate slouched into his own chair and grabbed a slice of the other pie.

"Hey, I have a thing on Saturday," Wade said between bites, "Came up suddenly. Can you come Friday instead?"

"Sure. I need to be in New York that morning anyway."

"You could spend the night here on Thursday if you want," Wade heard himself say and then cursed mentally because why in hell would Nate want to do that? It wasn't like it was hard for him to get to and from Providence with his gravimetric whatever-the-fuck.

"Okay," Nate said.

"Wait, really?" Wade asked before he could stop himself.

Nate gave him an amused look. "Of course."

"My bedroom isn't clean like the living-room. You'll have to sleep on the couch."

"That's not a problem. I've slept on your couch before."

"I can make pancake breakfast," Wade offered.

"I love pancakes. You have real syrup, right? Not the crap they make with corn syrup, but real maple syrup?"

God damn, could this fucker get any more perfect? This was not fair. "I'm Canadian, Nate."

Wade didn't get any sleep on Thursday night. His brain was stuck on the fact that Nate now had a toothbrush of his own in the little cup in Wade's bathroom and one of those travel-sized bottles of hair gel which smelled really good and also, the sight of Nate in nothing but a towel, still dripping wet from the shower. Guh. Muscles and TO mesh and muscles. If he was capable of jerking off silently, he would so be doing that right now, but he wasn't, and Nate was never actually asleep when Wade thought he was, and that wasn't something he wanted him to hear. He spent the entire night ruthlessly reminding himself that Nate was in love with Domino and that he was never, ever, in the history of ever, going to decide he wanted Wade instead. Nate had options, okay, big shot mutant messiah that he was, and Wade was certain that Irene was number two and if, IF, he was even on the list, he was a hell of a long way down. The best way to reinforce his message was to think of all the reasons he was a terrible person and Nate wasn't interested in him, which was something Wade was very good at, but it did mean he was feeling like garbage by morning. But he put on a happy face while he made breakfast so Nate wouldn't suspect anything and ask questions.

He was maybe singing pretty aggressively to bouy his mood while he cooked. Nate ambled in as he flipped the hundredth pancake.

"-God took a Deadpool by the haaand, turned him around and miracle of miracles- morning, Nate- led him to the promised land..."

"Morning. That smells good."

"It better. This is real, authentic Canadian gold right here. With 100% pure maple syrup purchased in the mother-land with real, authentic, legally-earned, exchanged as I went through the airport Canadian money. Mostly legally-earned. When David slew Goliath, YES, that was a miracle too..."

He turned off the griddle and carried the last tower of pancakes to the table where Nate was floating the butter dish out from under a few other stacks and somehow keeping the melted butter from just pouring off. Well, that would make for less work than having to spread it.

"-of all God's miracles great and small, the most miraculous one of all..." Wade stopped himself from drinking syrup directly from the bottle just in the nick of time. He really needed to have two. One for himself, and one for guests. Not that he entertained much. He covered the near miss by getting the milk out of the fridge and pouring himself a glass like what he'd really been trying to reach for was his drink.

He was pretty sure Nate saw through him.

"-the one I thought could never beee..."

Nate smiled at his pancakes and poured a generous amount of maple-y goodness over them.

Chapter Text

After that, Nate slept over whenever he had a morning meeting in New York or DC or really anywhere in the States, which wasn't all that often, thank fuck, because it did things to Wade's libido, and also made it harder to get stuff for Weas and keep his secrets a secret. And jerk off. But by the end of October, the teleporter was up and running and Wade had heat week coming up, which was the perfect time to do his thing. It would probably be like a bonus if he let Sinister dissect him while he was in heat. A Christmas bonus. Old Paste-face could study his heat and his healing factor in one go. How could he turn down an offer like that?

This was an excellent idea. Even if Weas and Al thought he was nuts for going to see Sinister at all, let alone during his heat.

Weasel's teleportation machine didn't have a cool tagline, but it did have glowy buttons for Wade to push. One to take him to another dimension or reality or whatever, and one to take him home when he had what he'd come for. Strapping himself into a somewhat restricting harness while he was in preheat and wanted nothing more than to be naked except for maybe a soft, lacy nightie was not fun, but this was for the most noble of causes, true love, so Wade did it anyway with a minimum amount of whining. Okay, a lot of whining and a lot of shouting at Weas to stop trying to talk him out of this, you asshole, just because he was complaining didn't mean he was amenable to another option. Wade was way too far in at this point, mentally, emotionally, and mone...tar...i..ly? Was that a word? Whatever. He'd sunk hella skrilla into this, and he was gonna follow through, and if it went bust, Sinister was going to get it big time. And by it, Wade meant the pointy end. Of his katanas.

Sinister was still in his tres American midwest circa 1994 farmhouse, fortunately, and he wasn't so pissed about Wade stealing Baby Nate that he attacked on the spot. But he didn't offer him more delicious, barbecued chicken either. With or without drugs.

"Hey, big guy," Wade said, "How's that search for the savior of your world going?"

"Are you in heat?" Sinister asked, staring at him askance. Oh, askance was a GREAT word.

"Just about. Don't you want an update on your precious bundle of joy? Don't worry, I didn't end up raising him to work at the Blimpies and shoot heroin on his lunch break. He's off fearlessly leading mankind and mutantkind into the future, saving the world one small, made-up country at a time, saving the environment, and falling in love with a woman as freakishly pale as yourself. I'm calling Oedipus Complex. Or is it Electra since you're his daddy, not his mommy? But then he's not a girl, is he? God, this is so confusing."

"Don't hurt yourself trying to work it out. I get the point. What are you doing out of your home in your condition?"

"Well, see, I've got this problem," Wade said, "Nate's all growed up and in love, but instead of being able to bond with the woman of his dreams, he's stuck with little old me, and I just can't stand to see his smile upside down."

"I can see why he might not enjoy that. How did he end up bonded to you?"

"Long story short: I got turned into goo and he got turned into a scrap heap. So, he swallowed me, combined out DNA, and then threw me back up. Really gross. I punched him in the face."

"Oh, dear," Sinister said.

"Yes," Wade said, "That about sums it up. Anyway, I was thinking I'd find a way to unbond us so he can live his dreams since I'm such a good friend, only the only way I know to do it is to kill one of the two of us, and I just bounce back from that shit and killing him kind of defeats the purpose, and it turns out the scum and villainy of my world aren't advanced that far science-wise, and neither are the halfway decent brainy people I know. So, I asked myself, who do I know who has an intimate understanding of molecules and DNA, specifically mine and-slash-or Nate's? I tried Weapon X first, since they're locally sourced, but they were a huge let-down. That left me with the guy who put Nate together. So, here I am with an offer I really hope you won't refuse."

"This is certainly an intriguing start. Very well, Mr. Wilson, I'm listening."

"Remember how you wanted to dissect me that one time? Well, I was thinking I'd let you do that, and while you're in there, you could figure out how to fix this bond thing and maybe extract some of Nate's DNA to make yourself a whole 'nother messiah for your own world. What'da'ya say, pal? Want to give it a go for old Deadpool? I'll even stay awake during the dissection so you can ask me questions as long as you don't mind the occasional shriek of pain."

"You're in heat," Sinister said, and oh, yeah, Wade should probably explain that part of his reasoning.

"Not yet," he said, "but I will be by tomorrow. I figured you could get a two-for-one. Sweeten the pot, and all that. What do DP's insides look like, and how does his healing factor affect his heat?"

"You're in love with him."

"And he's in love with Dom," Wade said evenly, "And she's in love with him. And if there's one thing Nate deserves what with all the good he's done for the world, it's a chance to live happily ever after with the albino of his dreams. Right now, I'm in the reason he can't have that. He's been real gracious about it, you raised a true gentleman, but it's high time I got my shit together and got out of the way."

"What about you?"

"Me? I've got a forever girl too, and one of these days, someone's going to figure out a way to send me to her permanently."

"Your life is depressing. Alright, Mr. Wilson, you have a deal."

Wade's excellent idea was not so much fun on the follow through, but he made it home a day before heat week was up and had time to thank Weasel and hide the box Sinister had given him somewhere nobody would find it before going home and blowing his brains out in the bathtub like a civilized human being.

He woke up to Nate's concerned face and realized he was in his bed not the tub, so Nate must have moved him.

"Hey, Priscilla."

"You shot yourself."

"Yeah. Been a while since I did that. You're here early."

"Weasel called and said something was wrong and you needed help."

Yeah, Wade hadn't told Weas what exactly he was going to let Sinister do, just that he was going to cut a deal with him.

"He's got a hair trigger on the whole panicking thing."

"You shot yourself in the head," Nate said again, "That's a good indication that he was right to be worried."

"Pssh, he's just-"

"Are you in heat?"

"Nope." Not anymore, he wasn't.

"You smell like it."

"Looks can be deceiving. I need to throw up. Where's the toilet?"

Nate helped him into the bathroom, where Wade proceeded to dry heave for a long time. Nothing in his stomach to come up. Dissection was the worst. Actually, vivisection. He super hadn't been dead during that. And Nate was crouched next to him, rubbing his back nice and soothing and offering him water even though nothing had come out when Wade's body tried to hurl. The water tasted good and didn't feel too bad when he threw it back up, and he kept some down the third time he tried. God, his abs burned, and his brain felt blotchy and horrible, and everything hurt, and he super hadn't been dead during that. He hadn't.

"I'm taking you to Providence to see a doctor," Nate said from a long way away, "I'll be there the whole time, I promise. I won't let anyone hurt you. I know you don't like hospitals, but I don't know what's wrong with you, and there's nothing I can do here."

"I want Al," Wade heard himself say. It sounded like someone was crying. Nate should do something about that because Wade couldn't right now, and anyway, he wasn't good at it.

"Who's Al?"

"Blind Al."

"I don't know who that is."

"She's my roommate."

"I'll send someone for her," Nate said, and Wade wasn't sure who her was.

He was flying on something warm and not at all like a vivisection rack. "I want Al."

"It'll be alright, Wade. You'll see her in a minute. Bodyslide by two."

Wade woke up in a room he didn't recognize, on a bed he didn't recognize, but with an arm he very much recognized around his middle. Nate was hot and solid against his back, his slow, deep breaths moist on Wade's scalp, and his TO arm around his waist, keeping him in place. It was a great way to wake up. Wade was back asleep in seconds.

The next time he woke up, Nate was gone, but Blind Al was in a chair next to the bed.

"What are you doing out of the house?" Wade croaked.

"You asked for me while you were having your panic attack, apparently. Cable found me and dragged me out here."

"That sounds like something I would do."

"What the hell happened, Wade?" she asked.

"Vivisection sucks," Wade said, "Worst heat ever. Can I have a hot water bottle and a book now?"

"Shit," she muttered, "I don't have your hot pack, but I brought Ballet Bandit, Disappearing Princess, and Jingle Bell Jinx, and I made Cable get me that Babysitter's Club book you've been talking about. The one you can't find online."

"Jessi's Wish?"

"Yes. I think he made someone here translate it into braille and then had it printed. These pages feel fresh."

"I want that one," Wade said, settling on his side and hugging an extra pillow to his chest.

"Only if you eat while I read."

There was a tray of fruit and crackers on the bedside stand. No tacos. Boo. Oh, well, if it got Blind Al to read to him, he'd suffer through it. And hey! Jello! Lots and lots of colorful jello in its little cups hidden under the edge of the bed, but Wade could see them in the mirror across the room. Kinky. He fished the packages out, tore the lid off one and twisted it into a spoon. By the time Al finished the book, Wade's stomach was full of jello-y goodness and some of the crackers because he'd run out of jello and still been hungry. He was going to have the most colorful shits for days.

Nate brought a sheepish-looking Weasel when he came back and more food. Not Mexican by the smell, but it was still better than the crackers and fruit Wade had been nibbling his way through as he and Al watched Matlock.

"You went to Weapon X?" Nate asked. He did not sound pleased. God bless Weas and his quick thinking.

"Jesus Christ." Wade was good at sounding way more pissed than he actually was. "Way to keep a secret for all of twelve seconds, you useless fuckstick."

"I'm sorry," Weas whined, making himself look even wimpier than normal and hiding behind Nate, "but he's scary when he's homicidal."

"Not scarier than me."

"I was mostly concerned with my continued existence in the moment when he showed up and started asking questions."

"Wade," Nate interrupted, "What in hell were you doing at Weapon X? You know that place is bad for you. And don't claim it was for work. I already talked to Outlaw, and she said you had the week off for your heat, which we'll be discussing later, and that you don't take jobs that involve going back there."

"I need better friends," Wade said, "Except you, Al. You're the best."

"Quit stalling and answer the question, Wade," she said, "He's too smart to be distracted."

"Shows what you know," Wade said, "I was there on a personal errand. It's none of your business."

"It becomes my business when you kill yourself, have a panic attack, and spend three days a gibbering mess in my bed."

"Hey, it was your idea to bring me here. I would have stayed home and done it there, and I'd have had the good manners not to hold breakfast hostage."

Nate scrubbed a hand down his face. "Weasel, take Al to her room or wherever else she wants to go, please. I'd like to talk to Wade alone."

Weas hopped to immediately, and in seconds, it was just Wade and Nate, who sat on the bed next to him and handed him the bag of food. It was a meatball sub, still warm. Mmm. Meat.

"What's going on?" Nate asked, "You're still pulling more hours than Agency X accounts for, and I don't believe for one second that it's all for Weasel. What are you up to?"

"It's a secret. No one's gettin' hurt, I promise."

"You are."

"Doesn't count when it's me."

"Yes, it does." Nate looked really upset now. Oops. Damage control. Stat.

"I've got a plan." Wade lowered his sub so Nate would know he was serious. "I'm doing a good thing. You're going to be happy when it's done. Just wait it out. It'll be worth it."

"Worth vivisection?" Nate asked.

"Don't eavesdrop on my conversations with Al. She's my Hello Kitty diary with a big lock and a 'keep ur pawz off' sticker."

"I wouldn't have to eavesdrop if you'd just tell me."

"Look, the vivisection was... it happened. Not ideal, but things don't always go to plan. We have to improvise. I'm fine now, a little more traumatized than before, but not by that much, and I got what I needed." Technically, the plan had been for Weas to figure out how to sever the bond, not Sinister, so it wasn't even a lie.

"You could have gotten it without having to go through all that if you'd just asked me to help."

Yeah, no, he really couldn't have.

"I can't ask you," Wade said.

"Why not?" Nate asked, "I know I'm busy, but I'd make time."

There was no way to get out of this was there?

"It's not that," Wade said, "I'm working on your Christmas present. If I ask for your help, you won't be surprised, and that completely defeats the Magic of Christmas."

"You went through that for a Christmas present?" Nate didn't look any less upset by that answer. Maybe more. Shit, Wade
was not doing a good job of getting him to let this go.

"It's a really, really good one. Like really good. I'm going to blow Christmas out of the water. I'm going to rock it so hard. I'm going to win Christmas so hardcore that my victory will count for the next three years at least. Seriously. I can't oversell this. It's the best idea I've ever had."

"Please, don't get yourself tortured just to get me a Christmas present."

"Well, that wasn't how I wanted it to go down," Wade said, which was technically true, "and I won't do it again, promise."

Because he didn't need to as long as Sinister had held up his end of the deal.

"I'm not reassured," Nate said.

"No, really, I won't. The only thing I still need to get is something to wrap the present in, and that's what Target is for. An' they don't torture you there unless you count your wallet. Curse them and their gorgeous color schemes and aesthetically-pleasing arrangements of seasonal goods and all the things I didn't know I needed until I walked in the door."

Nate sighed. "If you do something like this again, I'm not going to let it go until I figure out what you're up to."

Yes! Score one for obfuscation. Score ten for obfuscation.

"Why didn't you tell me about your heats?" Nate asked.

Shit. "You didn't ask."

"I didn't know you had them."

"Why wouldn't I?" Wade asked.

"A lot of people with accelerated healing factors don't have heats or go through rut. You never mentioned it before we found out about the bond, and you didn't bring it up when we were figuring out how to handle it-"

"What do you mean when we were figuring out how to handle it? You came in with a plan and said here's how it's going to be. There was no figuring things out."

"I--" Now Nate looked really, really upset. Shit. Double damn fucking shitsticks.

"It's fine, Nate," Wade said, patting his arm, "It was a good plan, and personally, I think it's been working pretty damn well for us. You may never come around to acknowledging the glory of Sekekama, but our differences are what make life interesting or whatever that bullshit saying is. So, what if we've had some miscommunication along the way? Big fucking deal. You thought I didn't have heats, and I thought you expected me to keep dealing with them like I have been for years. It's not like I asked about your rut either. Now, we know we were both idiots, and we can fix the problem going forward. I didn't mean the plan was bad. I just want it acknowledged that you had one goin' in and never once asked me what I thought about it before you put it into action."

That worked. Nate's shoulders un-hunched, and his face lost a lot of its guilty, hurt expression. Ha! Winning. Wade was winning on all corners today. Wait, that didn't sound right. Winning on all counts? Winning in all arenas? No, too many syllables. Fuck it. He was just winning.

"What do you do for your heats?" Nate asked.

"Hang with Blind Al. She makes me tea and lets me whine at her. Heats up the rice pack or a hot water bottle for my cramps." Winning on all fronts. He was winning on all fronts. That was the saying.

"I could do that," Nate said.

As if Wade was ever going to ask him to. No way would Domino be happy about her boy-toy being with Wade during his heats, even if sex wasn't on the table. Heat sex with Nate would be so awesome. He hadn't had sex during heat since Nessa.

"Nah, it's fine," he said, not daring to look up at Nate because he was sure Nate would see on his face how much he wanted to say yes, "Al would wither and fade away if she didn't get the opportunity to coddle me for days once in a while. It's all that keeps her going in her dotage."

"If that's what you want."

Wade couldn't bring himself to ask about Nate's ruts, and Nate didn't volunteer any information.

He stayed in Providence for two more days, mostly in Nate's bedroom, and then cabin fever set in and he needed to get back to work, so he packed up Weasel and Blind Al, said goodbye to Irene, although he never got the chance to warn her about his plan and the possibility that she might get stuck planning Nate's wedding to Domino, and used the bodyslide to get back to his apartment. And if he jerked off later that night to the memory of waking up in Nate's arms and the smell of his sheets, well, that was no one's business but his own. And maybe, possibly, the person in the apartment next to his, because he was not quiet.

Chapter Text

Christmas was the best time of year. Theme songs. Presents. Fat old men in red suits turning the definition of a home invasion on its head. Lots and lots of alcohol and parties. If you were insane enough to go far enough north, snow. And best of all, Hallmark Christmas movies.

Wade was drunk off his ass thanks to the Asgardian mead he'd nicked from the Avenger's tower, clutching a box of tissues in one hand for when the movie got touching and a handful of colorful plastic discs in the other. His Hallmark Christmas Movie Cliche bingo card was on his lap, and it kept moving around and dumping his chips, and he was having a hard time reading what was on the little squares let alone remembering which ones he'd already covered or which movie they were on. It was hard to win when you couldn't tell if you had bingo or not, and the winner got the last bottle of mead. This was very important.

"Ha, yes, I called it," Nate crowed, "Dead Mom sent a letter back from the grave. I am so going to win this."

Nate was a little drunk too.

"I am gonna toast your taut, burly ass," Wade said, "I'm one away from bingo, bitch."

"You're cheating. We're ten minutes in. They haven't had time to do that many cliches yet."

"Hey. Hey. Never unneres'imate the writers of Hallmark movies. Their cliche-to-runnin'-time density ratio is second to none, and they get better every year try'na beat the same tired old dead horses in new an' not-at-all-creative ways. I'm tellin' you, you could not'a played this game ten, or even five, years ago. It'd'a taken like six movies to get through one board. As soon as I figure out what in hell the 'free space' trope is, I'm gonna take that bottle of booze an' make sweet, sweet mouth-love to it."

Nate stared at him for a long moment and then said, "I stand corrected."

"Yeah, you do."

"I bet this jack-ass is estranged from his father and that's why he hates Christmas," Nate said, pointing at the TV as if there was anyone else he might be talking about.

"No, no, Nate, he's a workaholic. Tha's the trope here. He works all the time and she's an overly-festive single mom who somehow manages to balance work an' motherhood but is still somehow not 'nough for her ungrateful, bad actress daughter. He's gonna swoop in an' learn how to be a real boy again while providin' something for the brat that her mother a'ready provides, or would if the kid would just have a conversation with her 'stead of mopin'. Jeez, it's like you've never seen this movie before."

"You've never seen this movie before," Nate said, "This is the premiere. It said so when it started."

"Yeah, but that don't mean we've never seen it before."

"Commercial break. I'm going to pee while I can. Do not touch my board. I'll know if you do."

"It's not like your stupid perfect memory wouldn't jus' put it back the way it was anyway," Wade muttered as he watched Nate's ass vanish into the hallway. He should probably sort out his own board while he had the chance. All the little chips had slid off the side onto the couch again. He needed glue or something to hold them down. Like knives or, hey, tranquilizer darts from his gun. Now where did he last see them? The dish rack?

He was rummaging in the refrigerator when Nate found him.

"Movie's about to start again. What are you doing?"

"Lookin'." Wade was pretty sure that he was trying to find something, but he couldn't remember what it was. He did know that he was really overheated, though, and the cold air in the fridge felt great.

"For what?"

"Forgot by the time I got in here," he said, "Figured I'd know it when I saw it."

"'Kay," Nate sounded a little vacant, and Wade looked up to see him staring down at him with a slightly dazed expression on his face.

"You get into the medicine cabinet?"

"What? No."

"You want some leftover turkey?" Wade was pretty sure that's what he was digging for. "Bob brought some from his wife's family's Christmas party. It's not even very dry if you eat it with applesauce."

"That sounds good."

Wade handed him the turkey in its giant disposable cooking dish and grabbed the jar of Mott's, and they settled on the couch with the turkey between them so they could both pick at it. Nate even floated a couple of spoons out of the silverware drawer because Wade forgot. It was nice to sit there with him, munching on leftovers and making bets about which hackneyed plot devices were going to be used this time, and Wade won Bingo in the end even though he never figured out the 'free space' trope. He shared the mead with Nate anyway, because this was the season of giving, and if he was a stingy Grinch-face on Christmas Eve, Santa was going to bring him coal.

He woke up on Christmas morning, sweaty and tangled in the sheets, half on top of Nate, who was flat out on his belly, snoring like a sailor. Asgardian mead would do that to anyone. He rolled out of bed and let the impact of his knees on the floor wake him up, then climbed to his feet and ambled into the bathroom to pee and brush the dry, dusty rabbit carcass out of his teeth. Nate was sitting up and clutching his head when Wade left the bathroom. Hangover. Wade loved his healing factor. His hangover wasn't that bad. He took pity, though, and brought him a glass of water and some aspirin he kept for when Weas came over and got drunk and made sure all the curtains were drawn so the sunlight wouldn't get in Nate's eyes.

He left the Christmas tree lights plugged in, though, because Christmas, and also they were pretty and twinkly and magical. He was throwing the turkey bones off the balcony at the dumpster when Nate finally made it to the living-room.

"What are you doing out there?" Nate asked.

"Airing the dirty laundry."

"You shouldn't throw trash off your balcony."

"Why not? The dumpster's right there."

Nate just shook his head, and Wade took that to mean he'd won the argument.

"So," Nate said, "Presents or breakfast?"

"Stockings, breakfast, and then presents," Wade said, because he might want to postpone the presents part until never, but he'd committed to this. It was happening. He'd spent the money, done the dissection, paid the piper, et cetera, et cetera, and he was not backing out now. Besides, he'd already told Nate it was a big deal. He couldn't not deliver.

He wasn't thrilled when they'd finished eating and were settling by the tree to divvy up the stack of presents under it. His present from Nate was in a huge box, and it was heavy as shit, which boded well, and his own gift for Nate looked little and sad next to it, but it wasn't about size. Okay, it was about size a little bit, but Wade was still sure his present was the best, and he was not going to be intimidated by Nate's quantity-based approach to gift giving.

"Open mine last," Wade said when Nate started to peel at the wrapping, "Seriously. Everything else will be a let-down after that, and Bob and Weas and Al should get their moments in the sun before the supernova that is my gift obliterates their tiny, pathetic dwarf stars."

"I knew you listened to my science channel shows."

"Don't give me shit. You used a Gypsy Sisters quote on a supervillain the other day. You're lucky the rest of X-Force is too lame to watch that show and I'm too nice to point it out and ruin your tough, manly image, or you'd be a laughingstock."

"Fine, but you have to open mine last too."

"Fine, but you have to open mine after I open yours. This may be a red giant, but like I said, supernova. Or maybe even a quasar."

The huge box taunted Wade the entire time he was opening everything else, and he may have rushed through them to get to it, but Nate didn't call him out on it.

"You're giving me BFG?!" Wade shrieked as he finally heaved it out of the box. It was HUGE!

"Yep," Nate said.

"Oh, my god, it's so big! It's so heavy! I need to shoot something. I need to shoot something with it right now. I feel so masculine and powerful! I feel like my dick grew three sizes today. I feel like I could top fucking Conan the Barbarian. Did you name it?"

"I thought I'd let you do the honors."

"I'm gonna call her Beyonce. If ya like it then you shoulda put a ring on it. Can't be mad when you see that he's on it. Wuh-uh-oooh..." He swiveled his hips and shook his booty like B and took aim at one of his kitchen chairs.

"You probably shouldn't shoot that in the house if you want to continue having a house," Nate said.

"Alright, you take that chair and throw it off the balcony, and then I'll shoot it."

"If you keep looking in the box, you'll see that I included a few things for you to blast. We can go up on the roof."

"Yes!! We need to do that right now! Oh, my god, I'm using so many exclamation points!"

Nate laughed and carried the cannon fodder up to the roof so he could throw it for him. The first shot with Beyonce knocked Wade flat on his ass, which was AWESOME, but then he had an idea what the recoil was like and got himself properly grounded for the next one. She made the most amazing 'F-Toom' sound and the biggest explosions. Wade couldn't help hugging Nate between blasting each target and laughing like a maniac. His very own BFG! This was the best present anyone had ever given him.

When they ran out of things for Wade to shoot, they went back down to his apartment, and reality started trying to set in on him. Nate was about to open his present, and then that would mean he didn't have to come see Wade anymore. Wade hugged Beyonce and admired her custom Wade-sized grip and felt the icky feeling in his stomach fade away. Just think about B, that's all he had to do. His very own gorgeous BFG. She'd keep him warm on the cold nights to come, and she would surely like Sekekama more than stupid Saba.

Nate didn't waste any time in opening his own gift once they got back to the apartment. Under the wrapping was a slim black box with two hypodermics full of clear liquid. He gave Wade a confused look. Of course, stupid Sinister wouldn't have included a god-damned note to explain what they were so Wade didn't have to do it.

"I'm going to need some context for this," Nate said.

"It's for the bond," Wade said, "To fix it. Well, get rid of it. Fixer said it wasn't 'broken' so he couldn't fix it. Lame. Anyway, I think he was just making excuses because he didn't know how. So, I made Weas keep trying, but he couldn't figure it out either, so I went to Mr. Sinister because who knows more about DNA and that shit than him, right? And he once said he'd like to dissect me and see how my healing factor works, so I had Weas make a teleporter to send me back to him and cut a deal where he got to dissect me as long as he gave me a way to sever our bond so you could bond with Domino like you want to and live happily ever after."

"This will sever our bond," Nate said slowly, picking up one of the hypodermics gingerly, "so I can bond with the person of my choice."

"Sinister said so, and I don't think he was lying. Although, if he was, I can always go back and make him regret it. I just realized that I never asked about side effects, but what's life without a few risks, huh? So, what do you think? Am I the master of Christmas or what? I did the impossible and paved the way for your future happiness. I am the best friend ever. I win Christmas. Right? Do you like it?"

Nate set the needle back in the case and stared at it. "This- Wade, this is the sweetest, most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me."

"Yes! I knew it. I'm the best."

"But I don't want to use it." He closed the box and set it next to his leg.

"What was that now?" Wade asked. Or he would have. He only got as far as 'what' before Nate kissed him.

Wade froze. Nate's lips were warm and surprisingly soft against his. Then Nate's huge hand curled around his neck and jaw and Wade was kissing him too, clinging to the front of his shirt.

He came to his senses a little when he was flat on his back with Nate's hips between his thighs, his weight pressing Wade into the carpet.

"What about Dom?"

"Wade, I haven't dated Neena in almost half a year," Nate said, and kissed him again.

"Wait, why did you break up with her? Everything seemed fine between you two."

"It was fine, but then Irene kicked me in the balls so hard I couldn't walk right for days and called me an asshole, and I started paying more attention and realized I was in love with you."

Wade didn't ask any more questions until after he and Nate were in bed, naked, covered in sweat and cum, and recovering from round three.

"You're in love with me?"

"Yes." Nate floated a wet washcloth out of the bathroom and started wiping the grossness off them.

"Since when?" Wade asked, wondering if there was a way to change the sheets without getting off the bed. Probably not. Oh, well. He'd worry about that later.

"I'm not sure exactly, but a while ago. Why do you think I'm over here all the time, finding reasons to see you? Did you think I was worrying myself sick over your work habits and trying to get to know you better because I had platonic feelings for you?"

"Hey, I don't know. You're a caring guy."

"The snuggling on the couch, the spooning in my bed, the foot rubs, that time I washed glitter out of your eyes and helped you bedazzle a prom dress. None of this was a clue?"

"I think it's well established by now that I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot."

"I am, but I'm just barely smart enough to make friends with a lot of smart people who can make up for it. It's one of my hidden talents."

"You have a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm awesome."

Nate kissed him, slow and lazy and perfect, and Wade melted into it.

"I'm going to take a nap," Nate said against his mouth, "and when I wake up, I'm going to fuck you through the mattress again."

"Good, because you owe me so much sex to make up for how much money I spent on your present since you're not going to use it. Will you wear a mane and can I call you Sekekama?"

"Sure."

"Awesome. I don't have a mane in my closet, but I do have a blonde wig. I can tease it up nice and big."

"Works for me."

"God, I love you."

Nate grinned and kissed his forehead. "I love you too."