Work Text:
If he’s being honest, Wade should’ve seen this coming.
Because duh.
Well. Not the divorce. He totally knew that was coming; he saw all the signs, even created some of them himself. He’s a simple man. Shiklah wasn’t.
It was just all about work, work, work with her! Not as much room for fun, like it used to be!
Also, she didn’t morph into fun things nearly as much as he wishes she would. Don’t get him wrong, Shiklah’s true form grew on him, and h absolutely loves it now, but what’s the point of marrying a shape-shifting succubus if she won’t even indulge in her husband’s fantasies every once and awhile?!
Don’t worry. He had plenty of reasons for marrying an underworld beauty like her. And, bonus, she actually found him handsome. This ugly fuck-o actually found someone who doesn’t throw up at the first sign of his scars—she wasn’t even fazed anymore!
Another bonus: he was goddamn royalty, once removed, at one point! Truthsies! And boy was that a fun thing to explore underneath the silk sheets…
Being a sick fuck aside—because that’s just a given, a total “hello!” defect anyone who gets with him should know about before even setting foot in a relationship with him—what’s good is love doing for him anymore?
He should’ve stuck with his gut.
So yeah. Wade definitely saw the signs; Wolverine did, Preston did-did, especially Ellie—though that one hurts the most—and he’s pretty sure Nathan did too. Wade might as well have shot himself in the eye with how glaringly obvious it was. Knock him right off his feet.
Which is exactly what Shiklah did, once the papers were signed and it was Official™. Wade’s spine severed in three different places and his spine was shattered. He’s still walking with a slight limp. But that, Wade can handle. It’s a total bitch of a fuck to heal, but with time—alas, as all break ups go!—he’ll heal.
But this? THIS?? This is just some nasty work, Wade thinks as he grips his throat and practically unhinges his jaw. Mustering all of the air into his lungs that he can get, he lets out the biggest scream he can, even stamping his feet for enhanced effect.
Except there’s nothing. Nada. Zip. No sound. Coming from his mouth, at least.
Screaming (internally), Wade slaps his cheeks a couple of times, smooshing his face, and tries one last time. In vain. He’s probably popped some veins underneath all the blisters, and he’s pretty sure that’s a flush underneath all the ugly on his cheeks from the exertion. But still nothing.
And all this over some divorce that she wanted! Her!
Wade didn’t even know succubi could get divorced!
Right, maybe he shouldn’t have told her that he can’t wait to meet the next corpse she makes her husband, since that’s the kinda freaky shit she’s into, but c’mon! That’s funny, in a total self-deprecating kind of way! The best kind of humor!
Not to mention it was practically the tamest thing Wade’s said to anyone, ever. If he wasn’t so gobsmacked over the whole thing, he could’ve come up with something much better than that. Don’t count him out, scout!
But then she pulled some Ursula-type shit on him, and Wade was so not a willing Ariel!
Sulking, Wade falls back into his couch, and clutches a pillow to his chest. Briefly, he considers screaming into the pillow, because that’s helped a ton of teenaged girls over boy problems, so why not him? But it won’t work anyway, so he flops back and covers his face with it instead.
Suffocation would be good. Better than just never being able to talk ever again.
He groans, the feeling familiar in his throat even if no noise leaves his mouth. It’s his only charm! It’s all he’s got, when paired with all this skin terror! It’s what the people want!
It’s making him miss the voices.
Shaking his head, Wade clutches the pillow and presses it against his face.
Now what?
“Find your true love,” she had said (though her exact words were more “You’ll never find someone else so here let me prove it to you with a hex!”).
“True love’s high five,” she emphasized, and then she laughed at Wade. Evilly. With lightening and everything. Scout’s honor.
Wade’s pretty sure she’s not his true love, considering the divorce and the maiming and all that. Although she wouldn’t high five him, so he’s not totally golden on the fact. At this point though, he’ll save her for last.
Then who else is there to be his…true love?
The phrase settles in his mind like a forest fire, burning everything and generally ruining his life. True love. What even is that? What is it about people who look at someone and go, “yup! This is it!”? He doesn’t get it, and this is coming from a man who’s been married more times than he can count (well, he can, but he doesn’t feel like it right now). Eventually, the spark fizzles out, usually on the other person’s part, and Wade’s left there with a ring and a broken heart.
There’s also the problem that Wade looks like Actual Walking Trash, and really, who could love that? (Shiklah did—until she didn’t, he can help but remind himself).
No, no, he fervently thinks, scrunching his eyes closed. He knows how these spells work, mostly. There’s no way the spell could be cast if there wasn’t some truth to it, he’s pretty sure. At least that’s how spells should work because that’s just fucking polite.
Did Shiklah think that he’d not find the unlucky candidate?
Well, fucking ha. He’s going to do it. He’s going to go find that poor son-a-bitch who somehow fell victim to his charms! He knows lots of people—too many people! Who find him funny! And maybe even the tiniest bit cute! By order of elimination he’ll totally find them!
Suddenly springing forward off the couch, Wade chucks the pillow at the mirror and grins at his cracked reflection. Oh, and he knows exactly who to start with.
Wade supposes he probably shouldn’t have begun his attempt to woo Captain America into giving him a high five by grabbing his ass in hello, but he takes it as a learning experience.
He also takes the shield, just for a little bit, mostly because Cap shouldn’t have thrown it in-between his thighs if he wanted it back so quickly! Finders keepers!
This time though. Wade knows what to do.
Watching the familiar red-and-blue superhero zip past him in the sky through his scope, Wade waits for Spider-man to make his way back toward his direction, grinning manically.
And yes, of course he knows Spidey’s route! Honestly, who doesn’t, with the way the guy rarely ever changes his course for monitoring the city? It was like the first thing Wade noticed about the wall-crawler.
It takes over thirty minutes, but when Wade finally spots Spidey settling down on a nearby rooftop—their rooftop, he thinks dreamily—he launches into action.
First, he pushes the hair back from his face, smoothing it into place—kidding, he simply readjusts his mask. It’s amazing how often that little droopy bit at the back of his mask always ends up crooked, and Wade really doesn’t want to look like a slob when he’s confessing his love to Spider-man!
True love. Oh man, was Wade excited. He’s loved Spider-man for eons. He has so much of his licensed (and unlicensed) merch that he might as well create a shrine to him. Not that he’s going to, of course.
His apartment is too small right now.
But Spider-man is everything he wants to be in a good guy, and maybe if they (finally) get together then they can become some power couple do-gooders or some shit! That’d be so badass.
Man, he had slapped himself for not even thinking of going to Spidey first. Of course Cap would say no; he’s got a billionaire to coddle, and Wade’s fine with missing out on all of that action (mostly…kinda…). Plus, they never would’ve jived.
Spidey though. Total bros!
As Wade drops onto the back of the rooftop, he watches as Spider-man stretches, arms up behind his head and back arched, making his beautiful ass stand out, and he gulps. Oh, and if that isn’t extra incentive…
Plopping down next to the superhero, Wade raises his arms and silently shouts out, Spidey!! Spider-man, for his part, is only marginally surprised, and he lets out a long (affectionate, Wade’s mind adds) sigh as he moves to sit down next to Wade, letting his feet dangle over the edge.
“Hey, Wade.” Out of nowhere, Spider-man produces a bag, and for a moment Wade panics, clutching the bag of tacos behind him worryingly.
He produces a homemade sandwich, and rolls up his mask to take a big bite of it while asking, “So have you been naughty or nice today?”
And whoa, hello chiseled cheekbones and defined jaw. He’s even got a cute little nose, from the little bit that Wade can see. Oh, hell yeah, Wade was about to bag him a total trophy wife!
A trophy wife with no manners, it seems, as Spidey suddenly spits out his bite over the edge of the building, gagging. “Oh, yuck! Old! Shoulda checked the date on this turkey!”
Okay, so Wade will have to be in charge of cooking too, but that’s cool. Spidey will carry the relationship with his good looks and good heart; Wade will handle literally anything else if it means he catches this kind of guy in his web.
Ha! Web! Get it?!
Sensing an opening, Wade immediately shoves the greasy take-out bag into Spidey’s chest, and excitedly points at it. Spider-man stares at it.
“For me?” Wade’s head bobs, and the other man warily accepts it. When he pulls out a wrapped taco, all reservations are dropped as he hungrily digs into the food. “Oh man, thanks! Total lifesaver, I’ve got like negative money right now so—“ Spidey stops talking suddenly, and he fixes an eye on Wade, who’s honestly too busy watching the way his tongue darts out to lick the grease off his lips. “Hey, why are you being all Silent Bob on me?”
Wade nearly scoffs. What an ancient joke. But, this is the moment Wade’s waiting for!
He decides that the easiest, most direct route is best. Leaves no room for interpretation, and Spidey will understand what he wants/needs so to give him a high-five!
Meaning, Wade pulls up his mask to free his mouth—ignoring Spidey’s shiver—and waves his hands all around, mouthing the word ‘magic’. Spidey, thankfully understands immediately, and he laughs. A lot.
“Seriously?!”
Wade waits it out. Yes, yes, it’s so hilarious to be hexed and not be able to say a damn thing, please keep finding it hilarious, future husband of mine. The sound of his laugh is rather beautiful though, so Wade supposes he can put up with all the laughter at his expense. When Spidey starts to calm down, with only small bursts of giggles slipping out, Wade gears himself up to progress his love via hand gestures, but Spider-man tenses up, and nearly propels himself off the ledge with the force of his laughter. “Oh my god!” He’s holding his stomach now, and really what is so funny that—
Wade’s eyes narrow. Hoe don’t do it.
“The Merc without a Mouth!”
Oh my god.
Wade’s going to leave, he’s ready to go like yesterday, he’s gonna get up and leave this asshole behind to wallow in his stupid jokes and never see the beauty that is Wade ever again—
But then Spider-man leans into Wade, giggling madly, and Wade crosses out everything he just thought with a giant black Sharpie. Okay. He’s okay. Just gotta move on with the plan.
“Oh man, this is beautiful! Who did this? How long is it gonna last? Holy shit, this is so good.” Spidey sounds so awed, and Wade goes so still, to avoid jostling the other man, though he does risk a small one-shouldered shrug. He frowns when Spidey straightens back up, and opens his mouth to try to tell him to lay his head on him again, but Spidey tuts loudly, wagging his fingers.
“Nu-uh! Remember! Silence is golden!” Spidey thinks he’s a real funny guy, Wade realizes, as he watches the other man fall into a fit of giggles again. Finally fed up, he pokes Spidey to gain his attention and pointedly waves his hands in the air. “Oh! Okay, gotcha, sore subject. Okay, I’ll stop. Promise!” Picking up his abandoned taco, he takes a bite before asking, “So give me the rest of the dets!”
Now we’re talkin’! Wade takes a moment to compose himself, straightening his spine and puffing out his chest, before he grins wolfishly and points at the wall-crawler. One of Spider-man’s eyebrows raises underneath his mask. Wade then gestures at himself, showing off the total package, before he begins to rock his hips, gyrating against the air.
Spidey’s mouth falls open, dropping his taco, but the most exciting thing is the flush that peeks out underneath the mask, and Wade cheers internally.
“W-what—“
Wow, he sucks at charades. Wade adds arm movements to it, grabbing and caressing at Air Spidey while grinding down against the ledge, and decides that he needs to add tongue to the display when Spidey still hasn’t responded.
A shot of web snaps his mouth shut when he tries to stick his tongue out, and his teeth clamp down on the tip. Sweet merciful lord of pain! Gripping his face, Wade yelps internally and falls backward, writhing on the ground from all the pain. A second stream of web traps his hands and his head against the rooftop, startling Wade.
“Oh my god!” Spider-man spits out, angrily crushing the take-out bag, seething. “I don’t know why I even talk to you, you—“ He throws the bag at Wade’s head, sticking to the web, and Wade wishes that the whine he just made could be heard right now.
“Good to know you’re still disgusting even when you can’t talk,” Spider-man mutters. Standing, he shoves his mask down before shooting off a string of web into the distance. Wade starts kicking at the side of the building, frantic. Asshole! Don’t leave me like this!
But, after one last look of contempt, Peter flies off, leaving Wade webbed to the rooftop.
Fucking dick.
Okay. So. He’s got….what, two hours? Until the Spidey secretions finally dissolve? That gives Wade enough time to lick his wounds (literally) and plan. Because wow, bruised ego alert.
But whatever. Beauty only goes so far! And if it’s one thing Wade’s learned, it’s that all beautiful people are assholes. At least, Wade fervently keeps telling himself that, especially since he’s living proof that someone can look like the inside of an asshole and still be fuckin’ sweet.
Nah, what Wade needs is to find a more of a jack-of-all-trades kinda guy! Or Jill!
He supposes he should probably also try to find a different way to approach would-be lovers, since the direct approach is so not working in his favor. Less ouch, more ohhh yeahs, please, take me nows!
He should also find someone who knows him a little better, both his bad and good side, and still loves him for it. And he knows just the guy.
Although, Wade’s not sure he wants to bark up that burnt shell of a tree. So he goes with his second option.
Wade finds him in a bar, angrily slurping down a beer—which, to him, seems like the stupidest idea ever to go to the same bar for years. Feels like a bad safety thing. Which, now that he thinks about it, why do all the people Wade likes have no sense of safety??
There’s free seats on either side of him, two deep, and really Wade’s not surprised.
Wolvie!
Bounding in, he slides into one of the seats and rocks his weight around to twirl in it. Or, tries to twirl, except the chair is one of those terrible, evil ones that only twist so far, and Wade nearly collides into Wolverine.
“Wilson!”
My savior! My light in shining armor! My knight in the darkness! Wade yells silently, mouth wide open as h embraces the man. With a near feral growl, Wolverine shakes the merc off of him, sending Wade sprawling across the other empty chairs.
“Deadpool,” Wolverine barks, and the other patrons at the bar subtlety scoot their chairs a little further away from the middle. “Why’re you bothering me?”
Undeterred, Wade jumps back into his seat and clamps a hand on that big, deliciously beefy arm.
And yeah, if his true love is the kind of man who can throw him around in bed with those kind of arms, then Wade is definitely, totally in. Rawr!
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts—bad thoughts, sinful thoughts-be-gone!—Wade shakes him, slightly desperately. I need help!
Wolverine’s starting to look a lot less miffed and a little more curious. “Are you—can you not talk anymore?” At Wade’s enthusiastic nodding and thumbs up, he lets out a loud laugh and raises his drink before taking a sip from it. “I think this is the quietest I’ve ever heard you. S’real nice. Remind me to thank whoever did this to ya.”
And, well, rude. Again. People gotta stop saying that. But Wade glosses over that statement, and immediately launches into the explanation, complete with wide, sweeping arm movements and ridiculous facial expressions to convey exactly how he felt during the situation. Explanation first, then the gyrations, he’s learned.
Wolverine watches with a snarl throughout the whole thing, and his lower lip dips lower and lower with each passing second.
Finally, when one of Wade’s hands come waving too close to his face, Wolverine snatches it, digging his fingers in to shut him up. Wade immediately does. Mostly because whoa that strength would be a total beast under the sheets, and if that wasn’t something Wade would totally be into...
Taking a second to down his drink, Wolverine gives a heavy, put-upon sigh—and boy, that throat looks divine right now, thank you love gods!—he finally turns to Wade.
“Bub, I can’t understand shit.”
Wade deflates, a clear frown displaying on his mask, and slumps against the strong grip. Simple explanation was going to harder than he thought. His lip wibbles little as he looks plaintively at the other man, trying to bore the facts into his mind through simple eye-gazing. When Wolverine only cocks a head at him, a judging eyebrow shooting up, Wade redirects his gaze to the bar counter. Where he then sees two empty beer glasses and a stack of napkins.
Cackling silently, he snatches them and assembles them side-by-side on the counter, covering the top of one of them with a napkin. He then repeatedly clinks them together, complete with his own smooching face. Wolverine glances up at him.
“Okay. You and Shiklah.” Yes! Wade nods again, vigorously, and shakes the glasses in triumph. “And…?”
He then takes the napkin off the glass and crumples it. Wolverine’s fact goes a little funny at that, and coughs. “Oh, that—your divorce—“
Again, Wade nods. He’s about to move onto the next part, the good bits, when Wolverine awkwardly pats him on the arm. “Uh, about that. I-uh, know how hard it must be for you right now, and all that. Dealing with this. Uh. Thing.” Wade shrugs, and goes back to the glasses, but Wolverine keeps going, wincing. “And if you need anything, I’m…here for ya, bub.”
And oh. Screw explaining anything else. Wolverine just gave him an open invitation for exactly what Wade needs. Praise everything up in the sky!!
Surging forward, Wade wraps his arms around Wolverine and plants a huge, dry kiss on his cheek out of pure joy. Wolverine sputters, and Wade’s about to raise up a hand to ask for a high-five when Wolverine punches him right in the face.
Ow. Wade’s pretty sure he felt his face bones actually dent in from the force of the swing. He falls backwards, arms pinwheeling to keep his balance, before crashing to the floor, slamming the back of his head against the tile.
Double ouchie. A pained wheeze trickles up his throat, but the sound never makes it past his split lips, and Wade stays prone for a moment, dazed. Dimly he recognizes that Wolverine has stood up, and has hooked a fist into the front of his costume.
Finally regaining his strength, he raises a wobbly hand, giving the other man his best smile, but Wolverine scoffs and half-drags, half-carries him to the door.
“I ain’t giving you no fucking high-five, Wilson!”
And Wade supposes that the rejection hurts just a little more than the pavement.
Whelp. So Wolverine isn’t his true love. Wade can live with that. The dude’s got anger issues written all over him, especially when it comes to the mercenary. And honestly, after Outlaw, Wade can only handle so much rough-play before he’s calling uncle. Fine! He can do so much better, anyway!
Sniffing, Wade finally unpeels himself from the sidewalk and crosses his legs. He settles into a thinking pose, and frowns at the passing cars.
Rejected by numero three-o (très, an indignant Ellie corrects him, in his head).
Back to square one.
Who else can he go to?
Almost immediately, a name pops into his head that causes him to physically reel back, nearly knocking over a lady behind him.
“Hey—!”
“Nathan!” He belligerently shouts at her, scarred lips practically twitching in anxiety, and the women quickly backpedals, clutching her purse. Wade doesn’t see her. Jumping to his feet, he rubs his gloved palms against his thighs. Nathan.
The thought fills him with a whole lot of dread and only the tiniest morsel of hope.
He knew it was only a matter of time before he had to cross this road.
It’s been a few years since their “divorce”, though they’ve teamed up a couple of times since then. But Wade was a married man for one and a half of those missions. He had something—someone—else to think about whenever he started to itch for Nathan after being too close to him for too long.
But now…was a different story.
Wade tracks him down easily, and is more than embarrassed with the gleeful spike his heart makes once he lays eyes on his friend. Like, really? He might as well be one of those old-timey wolves, making giant heart-eyes at the guy!
Heh. Heart-eyes, motherfucker!
But Wade can’t deny the small thrill that makes his body tremble, just a little. Him and Nathan have good history--damn good fucking history, at one point—and Wade would be lying if he said that he was opposed to rekindling the tiny little spark. He’d mother the heck out of that little tendril of smoke, turn it into a big, healthy, roaring fire that only needs a good stoking every once and awhile (or every day, hehe).
So yeah. Wade’s like negative unopposed. Because Nathan’s got some hella good qualities going for him.
Healthy emotional relationship established? Check.
Sexy, smokin’ dorito of a bod that can crush him but chooses not to? Uh, check.
Lush lips that are totally kissable and have been scientifically proven? What a glorious memory. Check.
Nathan takes one look at him and his happy face crumples.
Oh. No. Oh no. Oooohh no oh no oh no oh—
“Wade.”
Nope. Nopity-nope, not prepared to deal with this!
“I know what’s going on. Wolverine told me.” Wade slumps; hands, shoulders and even head falling forward from the crushing humiliation. He knew it, he fucking knew it, but had still come anyway.
Damn himself and his own sadomasochism!
Spinning on his heel, Wade promptly walks away, giving a friendly wave to Nathan as he leaves. Outtie! But a hand settles around his wrist, stopping him. Nathan crowds up behind him, other arm curling around Wade’s torso, and holds him there, breathing deeply.
Aww, nuts. There’s so much affection and comfort in that hug that it nearly splits Wade’s heart in half. And really, Wade loved Nathan’s soft side before, but now it was just painful. Just let a man slither away from embarrassment in peace!
Wade’s distracted by the comfortable heat behind him and mostly misses what Nathan says, but he does catch the tail end of the conversation: “—you, Wade.”
Damnit. He really did only get the last bit. So not helpful to the story.
He shouldn’t, but Wade twists around to look back at Nathan, his raised eyebrows seen through the mask. Instead of responding, Nathan leans forward and places a chaste kiss on his forehead before pulling away completely, a small, sad smile on his face.
Damn, why couldn’t it be Mr. Tall, Sexy and Emotionally Invested?
“You’ll find them, Wade.”
Wade leaves as quickly as he can, wrapping his arms around himself to stave off the sudden cold he feels.
Shortly after, Ellie calls him, whispering from inside her closet to avoid getting caught by Preston. It’s past her bed time, but Wade can’t find it within himself to end the call before it even started.
“I miss you, daddy,” she says, the light of the phone just barely illuminating her face, and Wade’s heart melts. Instead of responding, he fires off a quick text—I miss u 2!! kisses!!! <3 <3 <3.
Her eyes scan the text quickly, brow furrowing, and Wade loves it when she does that. He’s not sure how, but his little girl managed to mirror one thing from his ugly mug and make it beautiful.
“Still can’t talk?” She asks, and its Wade’s turn for his eyebrows to lower. “Mom told me.”
Wade types out the next message even faster. So you know about the hex?
Ellie nods, and giggles. “True love’s high five! That shouldn’t be too hard for you!”
Wade’s smile doesn’t match his heart, but he mimes laughing along with his daughter. He’s about to change the subject, move it back to her, and how she’s doing, and whether school’s going okay and if he needs to come beat any disgusting boys up for her—
“Dad,” She breaks though his typing, and Wade looks back up at her. Ellie has a huge grin on her face, and she brings her free hand into view of the camera. “Check it!” Bringing her palm closer to the screen nearly blacks out the whole feed, but Wade can still faintly see the outline of her hand. “Give me a high five!”
Choking down a boxful of emotions, Wade brings his own hand up and gently taps the screen with his gloved palm. When he pulls it away, Ellie’s face is beaming back up at him. “I love you!”
He can’t say it back, and his text nowhere near conveys all the love he tries to pour into it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have tears in the corners of his eyes by the time they hang up, feeling so contented.
Wade doesn’t know how he got so lucky.
What are those things that professors take when they take a break from grueling work and annoying students? Siestas? Tacticals?
That doesn’t seem right, he thinks. He’s walking aimlessly, hands dug deep into the pockets of his worn jacket, the hood pulled low over his face. Pretty sure siestas are short term.
Whatever it is, that’s what Wade’s gonna take. Indefinitely. For like forever.
It’s only been three days, and already he’s exhausted. Those were his top people, in no particular order (liar, he thinks), that Wade would’ve happily used himself as a doormat to be in a relationship with them. Rejected. Utterly, embarrassingly rejected.
Ha…
(He’s not counting Ellie, for obvious reasons, and if anyone tries to include her on the list Wade will eviscerate and then defenestrate them, repeatedly.)
Leaning against a building, Wade lets his head fall back to thunk against the brink. At least that makes a noise.
Wade needs a pick-me-up, he decides. Something comforting. Something more magical than holing himself up in his apartment, watching reruns of The Golden Girls and sobbing into his ice cream.
Chalk up another defeat for the typical teenage girl plan of dealing with heartbreak(s)!
No, he needs something stupidly sugary and decadently blood-pressure-spike-inducing with maybe a little caffeine, if there’s room. He needs Starbucks.
Luckily, there’s at least three of them nearby, minimum, and Wade makes a beeline to the closest one. The power of capitalism!
It’s only marginally busy when Wade enters, with only four people already in line. The delicious aroma of coffee beans practically floats him over to the line, and he’s fantasizing about all the banana loafs he’s going to buy when he overhears the customer at the register.
“Aww, money, no!”
Stunned, Wade looks up from the dessert window, and shuffles over to get the perfect view of Clint’s profile. He’s clad in a purple beanie with an H on it, a purple hoodie covering his costume, and absolutely covered in bandages. Dude makes me wonder which Avenger is his favorite. The grimace on his face really just says how he probably feels about the whole day.
Stunned, Wade immediately starts screaming in his head.
BARTON, BARTON, BARTON, BARTON—
“H-hold on,” Clint mutters, face distraught, as he tries to scrounge around in his hoodie for more coins. He pulls out a small pile, but his hands are shaking too much, and promptly drops them. Behind the counter, the barista’s smile goes a little more frigid.
“Sir—“ Almost without thinking, Wade pushes past the customers in front of him, ignoring their shouts, and slaps a random amount of bills on the counter, startling both Clint and the barista.
“Deadpool?” Wade shushes him with a finger, and instead pushes the money closer to the register.
“Whoa, you don’t have to do that!” Wade responds by pressing his finger against Clint’s lips, who sputters and pulls away. But he remains silent, so Wade figures it’s still a win.
The barista still hasn’t taken the money. Wade pushes it pointedly against her fingers. “I-okay, did you want anything to drink too?” Wade realize a bit belatedly that she’s staring at his scars, and he self-consciously pulls his hood even lower. He points at the featured drink drawn on the board, and she nods mutely—which, hey, that’s his dealio right now! No stealing!—and finally takes the cash.
He doesn’t wait for the change, excitedly pushing Clint over to where they collect their drinks. He finds he can’t stop smiling. Clint, Clint, Clint!!
They’ve worked together enough times and have had enough conversations for Wade to consider him a friend—he even taught him how to use a bow! Plus, Clint’s usually pretty nice to him, and doesn’t gag as much as Wade’s other friends do whenever he lifts his mask.
Clint even willingly stared at his ugly lips to read them when he didn’t have his hearing aids in that one time. Talk about the beauty of friendship!
Wade wishes Kate was here too, but Clint is just as awesome alone. Maybe even more, he considers, as he watches the blonde lick the excess whipped cream and caramel off the side of his cup. Catching him staring, Clint’s cheeks flush and clears his throat. “So uh. Thanks. You didn’t have to do that for me. I—“ Wade knows what he’s about to say, and sincerely hopes Clint will follow through. He loves cashing in favors at inopportune times! “—appreciate it.”
Boo. No sexy I.O.U scenarios for Wade.
Wade nods and waves away the statement, and Clint awkwardly stares at him for a second. “I think this is the longest you’ve gone without talking. Stealth missions not-withstanding. And even then you couldn’t stop whispering sex jokes to me the whole time.”
Wade sighs dramatically, and takes a tentative sip of his drink. Eugh, too much coffee! He makes a beeline to the additions kiosk, and promptly dumps ten sugars and ample amounts of chocolate powder into his drink. Behind him, Clint snorts into his drink.
“Should’ve told me you couldn’t talk. I would’ve gotten you a better drink.” Clint stops, considering. “That is, if you wouldn’t have pushed me away from the counter, I would’ve been able to.”
Grumbling silently, Wade tests his drink, and figures it’s good enough. Nowhere near the achingly sweetness that he was craving, but he’d rather not face the barista again.
“So are you gonna tell me what happened?” When he turns around, Clint’s pointing at an open table, eyebrows raised, and Wade falters.
He…wants to sit with me? In public? Wade chews on his lip and shrugs.
They sit by the window, and the afternoon light shines down on Clint, illuminating not only his blue eyes but also the numerous band-aids on his face and neck. He looks absolutely exhausted, with at least ten bags under his eyes and shallow cheeks. Wordlessly, Wade gets up from the table, and quickly returns with a warmed-up loaf of banana bread.
“Whoa, dude, thanks. I literally just got off a mission.” Clint digs in immediately, and Wade’s heart titters slightly at the second unprompted word of gratitude. He groans a little in appreciation over the snack, and another certain part of Wade’s anatomy stirs. “This is so much better than eating SHIELD-issued food for the last three weeks!”
Wade nods knowingly. He’s eaten bugs that were tastier than the slop SHIELD provides for their missions.
The loaf is gone within seconds, and Clint licks his fingers of stray crumbs before going back to his ridiculous iced venti drink. Chewing on the straw, he says, “Okay, so, shoot. What happened?”
Wade opens his mouth, ready to explain, but then remembers that he’ll have to find other ways to explain himself. He searched the table for anything to use, and is about to get up to grab the sugar jars when Clint grabs his sleeve. “What’re you doing now?” Wade points at the shakers and mimes using them at puppets, but Clint just breaks out into an easy smile. “I read lips, remember? Sit down. Just talk. I’ll understand.”
And oh. Oh. Wade didn’t even think of that. The prospect excites him, and he practically leaps back into his seat. Clint, probably realizing how blatantly considerate he’s being, clears his throat and stutters, “Y-you know, to make up, y’know, for buying my drink and food, and all.”
Wade’s not even fazed. A fresh face! Someone to share my woes with! Someone who can hear me, so to speak! Drumming his fingers, he waits until Clint gets over whatever emotion that’s suddenly seized him to begin. Come on, Barton!
Once he’s got those gorgeous baby blues on him, Wade feigns clearing his throat, earning a chuckle, and pauses for dramatic effect before suddenly springing his hands out into jazz hands, mouthing, Magic!
Clint groans, his whole body slumping back into his seat. “Ohh, holy shit. I hate magic!”
In response, Wade blows a raspberry—which, whattheheckie, he didn’t know he could do that! Sweet!—and Clint laughs. Holding up his drink, he lightly knocks it against Wade’s and ruefully smiles.
“You said it bro.”
And Wade doesn’t know what makes him do it—he probably won’t be able to explain it even years down the road—especially since they already toasted, so really it’s just excessive, but it feels so easy, so natural to lift up his hand without any thought.
Clint hesitates, just for a moment, but grins a little when he gives Wade a high-five.
Oh my god.
“Oh my god.” He mutters. “Oh, my god!” He says again to test the waters, and then squeals. “Oh my god!!”
Clint, poor him, looks monumentally confused. Before he can say anything, Wade lifts him out of his chair and twirls him around, laughing loudly. “This is so great! This is SO GREAT—better than great, shit, better than blowjobs, and that’s saying a lot because I love that kind of physical labor, just so you know, now, with what all happened, but this—“
“Wade! Put me down!” Wade stops shaking him but doesn’t move away, keeping his hands on Clint’s shoulders. Now that he’s got him, he’s not going to let go. He’s beaming at the other man, though Clint just groans at him. “What the hell are you talking about? And what the fuck just happened!”
Wade just nods, head bobbing up and down repeatedly in its own accord. Someone could probably cut it off right now and his head would still be furiously nodding away.
“Holy shit, I feel like I just had sex!” He’s panting, beaming so hard his cheeks hard. A couple of other customers glare over at them, and Clint’s ears turn a violent shade of red, making Wade’s grin deepen. “Bullshit, your ears even blush? How cute can you be!”
“Wade! Explain!”
“Okay, okayokayokay, okay! So. Shiklah and me got divorced, yeah? Nasty shit, ranker than a bloodly pile of diarrhea, I gotta tell you.” Clint’s fingers twitch, as if he’s looking for his bow, and Wade speeds up, “And then she hexed me, pushed the mute button on me, blah blah, said I needed true love’s high-five to break and, and I ran into you and we high-fived and now here we are!!”
And sure. Clint was certainly, definitely, totally not in Wade’s line of sight when he thought about potential love interests. Not even close.
But what’s it to Wade to mess with fate? Especially when it fucks up just long enough to drop a dazzlingly gorgeous, beautifully-built (hellooo those arms!), charmingly witty blonde into his lap?
And oh, will Wade enjoy having Clint in his lap.
“High…five?” Clint’s eyebrows crease, and he looks so helpless that Wade just wants to sweep him into his arms and be the blonde’s little housewife, complete with pinup curls and garters.
“Gotta say, this threw me for a surprise too,” Wade adds, as he pulls Clint out of the shop. His heart can’t stop beating so fast and he’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Of course, you’re going to get a say in all this, don’t worry! Consent is sexy and whatever, but holy shit even just knowing this is so damn delicious!”
The blonde shakes his head, and then rubs one of his temples. “I’m-I’m too tired for this.”
“I’ll explain it all again later then, once you get some good sleep in you!” And then, just because he can, Wade caresses his thumb against Clint’s stubbly cheek, making his eyes widen. “C’mon, babe, gotta seal the deal!” Wade gleefully sings, and, just to push it, he puckers his lips. He’ll get slapped, but whatever, Clint’s stuck with him, so jokes on him, not Wade.
He’s not expecting the quiet “fuck it” before a pair of soft lips press against his own. He eyes fly open, startled, and immediately breaks the kiss. Clint pulls back just as quick, his entire face bright red.
Wade’s stunned. Everything’s gone offline. His dick twitches in his pants.
Okay, so not everything.
Probably sensing this, Clint shrugs and leans forward slightly, just enough to invade Wade’s space, and grins.
“Buy me some real food, and it’s a date.”