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One of those gentle sides into consciousness, where you're left wondering if you were ever asleep, that was how Wade Wilson woke up. Woke up to the pressure of another person on his chest. Woke up to staring. To doe eyes watching a scar on his chest shift and change.
Yah know, if literally anyone else was staring at us, they'd get a bullet in the face.
Well he's not anyone else.
He's not staring like anyone else.
He was observing with all the care and wonder of a child seeing a butterfly crawl into its new life, spread its new wings, take its first flight.
How poetic.
"Yah know," Wade sighed, pulling him into a close embrace, "if anyone else was staring, they'd get a bullet in the face."
Copycat.
"I love the way you stare though."
The smaller man hummed, melting into the embrace.
"I love you," Wade finished, pressing his lips to the ones below those adoring eyes.