Work Text:
“Hey, Frank?”
Frank knows that tone. He closes his eyes and takes a breath, centering himself before turning the page of the book he’s reading. “Yeah, Wade.”
Next to him, Wade rolls over onto his belly, legs still tangled up in the sheets. From the corner of his eye, Frank can see Wade putting on his best ‘innocent request’ face, and he knows this is going to be stupid. Where Wilson’s involved, and this seems truly universal, it was always going to be stupid.
Wade clears his throat and scoots a little closer. He’s naked, heat baking off him like a furnace, and the apartment isn’t that warm, so Frank tolerates the breach of personal space. Given that they’d been fucking less than an hour ago, he supposes it doesn’t matter all that much.
“So, I know you don’t wanna do pay-per-kill because like, weird moral thing about killing baddies for free, even though it’s like, the same fucking thing, and also I know Nathan has paid you to do work with him some times, which pretty much makes you freelance anyway, like a subcontract mercenary, but --”
“I’m not gonna start taking contracts,” Frank says flatly, flipping back to the last page, trying to make the words on the page mean something. “Not interested in that shit.”
“Uh-huh, yeah, but, like… you do kill corrupt politicians and stuff just as like, part of the whole,” Wade makes finger guns and does an abysmal verbal interpretation of machine gun fire, which doesn’t even make sense. Frank closes his eyes again lest they roll too far back in his skull and gives up on the book, closing it and setting it aside.
When he looks down, Wade’s grinning up at him. Too innocent not to be fucking around.
“If they end up on my list, they get what’s coming.” Wade’s finger guns disappear and he affects soft little claps instead, expression delighted. “I don’t need to get paid for that.”
“Excellent, cool, perfect. Just what I was hoping to hear,” Wade says brightly, eyes big and shining, bright with the maniacal energy that usually only sparks before they go kill a bunch of real bad guys together. “And may I ask if there are any high profile names on that list of yours currently?”
Frank grunts an affirmative, waiting for the shoe to actually drop.
“Any names I might recognize? Names written in orange, mayhap?”
“Would you make your fucking point already?”
Wade grins some more and pauses, just for effect, Frank thinks. He’s about five seconds from shoving the little bastard out of his bed.
“You wanna help me murderize Trump?”
The direct question shocks a little laugh out of Frank, and Wade must take that wrong because his expression falters into something a little uncertain and a lot defensive. “He --”
“He put kids in cages,” Frank growls, cutting Wade off before he tries to imply Frank would have any compunction about it. “And he’s a fucking Nazi.”
“-- worth eighty million dollars, I was gonna say, but yeah, all that too.” Wade says, wilting back against Frank’s side, giving him the big eyes again. The eyes that say he’s about to make a ridiculous request. “Will you give me a ride to DC to assassinate the president? I’m short on bus fare.”
Frank huffs again, shaking his head, staring up at the ceiling. “We can take the van. Tomorrow.”
They’ll need more of a plan than ‘take the van tomorrow', but it’s enough to get moving. It’s going to be a goddamn mess to pull off, but maybe if he’s backing Wade they can manage something that doesn’t end one or both of them dead. Or exiled from the country.
Well, they’d work it out. Frank likes a challenge.
“Quit drooling on me,” Frank says, shoving at Wade’s shoulder. “Get up here. If you’re gonna sleep in my bed, drool on the fucking pillows.”