Harry/Wade Wilson (Deadpool) - HP/Marvel
Hell Entry #3
Greetings again, Traveler.
This scroll you are about to read is different from the first few.
Its lines are not scorched from chaos, but smudged from the tears shed during its quiet, aching conception.
It was not scribbled in a frenzy, nor dug from the grave of a forgotten notebook.
It came from a place deeper than the half-baked chaotic spark. This one is tender, it is important.
It is not complete.
But it mattered.
And here, even in the Hellscape, that means something.
Summary:
The first time Harry meets Wade, he's eight-years-old, cold, bruised, and hiding from a world that doesn't want him.
Wade is ten, loud, weird, and freshly thrown into a snowbank by a man who's supposed to love him.
They shouldn't trust each other... but, somehow, they do. And from that moment forward, they're never quite apart.
This story begins beneath bruised baby blankets, late-night campfires, and promises made with shaking hands.
It is the story of two boys who found something real in a world that never gave them a chance.
Of childhood survival, growing pain, and the ache of separation.
And of a vow:
"I'll come back for you."
Pairing: Harry/Wade
Preservation Note:
This entry was once a cornerstone of the author's heart.
It has been preserved here, unpolished and timeless, just as it was left.
But twined between the words is the intent, the love, and the promise that even stories left unfinished still deserve to be remembered.
Always, Wade
(I'll become the devil)
~
The first time Harry met Wade was entirely unexpected.
~
“Get out of here boy, before I wring your worthless neck!” Vernon’s face purpled in rage, spit flying with the force of his words. Harry cowered, fear and sadness pulling at his chest. He scampered away, nimbly dodging the meaty hand swinging towards him, and was out the door before his uncle could get his hands on him.
It was cold outside, snow falling in gentle arcs towards the ground. Harry pulled his arms into the too-large shirt he wore, hugging them around his waist for warmth. As he passed the neighbor’s houses, he watched the happy families enjoying the holiday season, sipping eggnog and hugging, laughing with each other over their silly antics.
Tears pricked and stung as he watched the people he’d grown up around be happy and merry with each other. Until he came to the last house on the block, one that had been empty for years.
A single light was on downstairs, shadows moving around the windows. He briefly wondered who might have moved in, but he didn’t have to wonder for long. The front door slammed open with a loud bang! A balding man, not as large as Uncle Vernon, but not small either, pulled a blonde boy by his arm. With a hard jerk, the boy went flying into the piled snow on the lawn.
“You want to talk shit? In my house? You ungrateful bastard!?” The man looked up at where Harry stood, eyes narrowing in scorn. “What do you want you little freak?” Harry shook his head and looked down. The man was just like Uncle Vernon, and if there was one thing he’s learned, it’s how to not draw attention. “Get off my lawn, both of you! If I see your faces again…” The threat was left unfinished, but Harry knew what could follow. The slam of the door startled him and he flinched hard enough to fall.
He looked up and around, making sure it was safe before he crawled over to the boy.
“Hey, are you alright?” He asked quietly, reaching out the shake the other. The boy groaned before his eyes flew open and he jerked away, chest heaving from the quick heavy breaths. “Hey, hey it’s okay. Look at me, I couldn’t hurt you if I tried!” Harry tried to smile, to reassure the other kid, but he was trembling so much that it came across as more of a grimace.
The boy’s panicked breathing slowed as his bright blue eyes raked over Harry. A gust of wind blew across the yard and Harry hunched into his shirt, the threadbare fabric doing little to block the chill.
“I’m going somewhere warmer if you’d like to join me?” He stood, realizing just how wet his pants were at that moment. He shivered violently, his bones hurting and his chest starting to ache. “It’s not f-far.” He spoke through chattering teeth, waiting for a reaction from the kid.
Wade watched the small figure suspiciously, but he was right that he didn’t look like he could hurt a fly, much less a kid way bigger than himself. Holy hell, did the kid even eat? He was skin and bones! He swears he could see the outline of the boy’s teeth through the sunken skin of his cheeks!
Those eyes though, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a beautiful green. Deciding quickly, it was very cold outside, Wade popped to his feet. The boy flinched back, falling to the ground again.
“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to scare you!” Wade reached down to help the younger one up. “My name’s Wade!” He spoke energetically, peppy and happy, severely at odds with the scene Harry had just witnessed. Even still, the energy was contagious and, despite the shivering, Harry grinned happily.
“I’m Harry, it’s nice to meet you, Wade!” Another gust blew through, forcing violent shivers through him. “C’mon, we need to get out of this weather.”
Harry led them away from the house towards the small neighborhood park at the corner of the intersection. The light of the day was leaving and night was approaching fast. He knew he wouldn’t be welcomed at the Dursley’s home until morning, so Harry picked up the pace towards his ‘hideout’. It was more of a hastily built lean-to carved out of a thick swatch of bushes, but there was shelter from the weather and a place to build a fire.
“It’s not much, but it’ll keep us out of the cold,” Harry said as he pulled aside the makeshift doorway and crawled inside. The temperature rose significantly as soon as they entered. Harry set about making a fire as Wade looked around the surprisingly cozy area.
“It’s nice in here,” Wade said as he looked over at Harry. He was hard at work trying to strike a match, but he was shaking so much that the flame kept going out. “Here let me help.” With gentle hands, Wade took the box of matches and easily lit the first one he pulled out. Harry stared on jealously, as it usually took him five or six broken sticks before he finally got one to light.
The flickering campfire highlighted features that Wade hadn’t noticed at first. Fading splotches ringed little Harry’s neck, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Add to that the fading hand prints circling his bony wrists and Wade was starting to paint a very familiar picture. He’d bet his left sock, not the right one that has holes in it, that there were more bruises under the whale-sized clothes that hung on his frame.
“So, Harry Berry, how old are you?” he asked, piling sticks and small logs in the flames. “I just turned ten!”
“Harry Berry?” Harry laughed, startling himself a bit with the sound. “Uh, I think I turned eight this year.”
Wade furrowed his brows in confusion, took in the state of the kid again, and decided not to question it. “Ooh, eight’s a very important number! You, my young padawan, have much to learn.”
“Padawan?” Harry questioned, very confused. Wade gasped loudly and slapped his cheeks, startling Harry into dropping a bundle he’d picked up.
“Oh come on! Luke and Leia? Darth Vader? Is any of this ringing a bell? Please tell me you’ve seen Star Wars?”
Harry shook his head in resignation, now understanding that Wade was talking about a program, probably. “I’m not allowed to watch the telly. I think I heard Dudley talk about Star Wars, though. He mentioned a little green guy, uh Yogurt, I think? And a force of some kind?”
Wade frowned again but cleared his face before Harry could see it. “Hmm, we’re going to have to fix that, Hare Bear.”
Harry snorted a laugh before he could stop it, dropping the bundle again to slap his hands over his mouth, eyes wide and startled. Wade grinned widely, happy he got Harry to laugh. Harry, still chuckling, finally grabbed the bundle of cloth and handed it to Wade.
“Here, it’s not much, but it’s all I have here.” Wade took the wrapped-up cloth. He unrolled it and a small brown bag plopped into his lap. He looked up at Harry, who was stoking the fire, before he opened the sack. Tears stung as he looked at the crackers in the bag.
“Hey, Harry?”
“Yeah, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything is fine, but… Is this really all you have?” Wade took a bite, stale, and wanted to cry even more.
“Uh, yeah. Dudley threw it out of his lunch kit so I grabbed it. I swear it was only in the bin for a second! They’re still fine, I promise! I’ve been eating on them for weeks and look, I’m fine.” Wade had always thought he’d had the worst luck when it came to his home life but at least he got food. At least he had clothes that fit him even if most of them did have holes. He reached for the blanket, a ratty threadbare baby blanket that was probably blue at some point. It was barely big enough to cover his legs, but his eyes stuck on the gold embroidered initials along the bottom.
H J P
Wade knew with certainty that this was Harry’s baby blanket. Suspicious brown spots dotted randomly around the blanket and Wade couldn’t contain the tears any longer. He wept silently, for a little boy he’d never met before today, who had willingly brought a total stranger into what’s probably his only safe place and handed him everything he had so he could be just a little more comfortable.
Figures that the first time Wade has been treated like he was human was by someone who was probably, definitely, treated even worse than he was. Wade made a vow to himself at that moment, staring over at the tiny frame of what could only be an Angel, with bruises that mimicked jewelry and eyes prettier than any gem, he swore to the Earth he was kneeling in.
If Harry was an Angel, and someone could do something so horrifying to someone so innocent, Wade would become the Devil.
And he will collect on their sins.
~
Harry and Wade became nearly inseparable after that night.
They’d talked themselves practically to sleep, well Harry fell asleep. Wade stayed up until the sun peeked through the branches.
He’d noticed a few weird things in those quiet hours. Like how not a lick of wind, snow, or water had found its way through the brambles but the smoke from the fire snaked straight through. Or how the space inside was much bigger than it appeared on the outside, and it was warm.
Warmer than being outdoors in freezing temperatures could ever naturally be.
'They call me freak.'
For as long as he lives he will never forget the words Harry had spoken that night. They’d haunt him.
A cupboard. He slept in a fucking cupboard under the stairs. And the worst part? The bruises were everywhere. Harry’s shirt had ridden up after he fell asleep and Wade felt sick looking at the welts and scars.
'They said I was left on their doorstep. Aunt Petunia found me when she was grabbing the milk the next morning.'
But who had left him? Harry had said that his parents were dead.
'I never understood why they hated me so much. I’ve never done anything to them.'
He cooked and he cleaned and he slaved away for their greedy asses. He survived off of stale garbage crackers for crying out loud!
'I’m glad I met you, Wade. I finally have a friend. I’ve wished for one every Christmas.'
Wade cried more that night than he ever had. He wasn’t shit for a person, only ever looked out for himself. And now this boy, who’d only ever been beaten down, looked up at him with shiny eyes and so much hope.
After Harry had left in a flurry, 'Aunt Petunia would have my skin if I didn’t have breakfast ready for her 'Ickle Diddykins'', Wade made his own way home. Now he laid on his own mattress, in his own bedroom, and regretted every time he’d ever complained.
He didn’t feel like complaining so much anymore.
With a plan forming in his head, Wade set out on a mission to finally bring some peace to his green-eyed Angel.
~
He started with blankets. He raided his house, looking for anything that he could use. They didn’t have many spares, and what they did have was holier than hell (heh) but he still gathered them together. He’d always wanted to learn how to sew anyway. Food was next on the list, but aside from a jar of peanut butter and bread, there wasn’t much in there.
He’d have to remedy that.
He also grabbed one of the first-aid kits. Wade’s been patching himself up for years so it shouldn’t be a problem to help Harry. He tossed his haul into a garbage bag and on his way out of the door he noticed a spare old jacket of his mother’s. How that ended up here with them he honestly doesn’t know. His father burned everything of hers after she died.
Wade grabbed it on impulse, the shivering frame of Harry dancing in his mind, and threw it in the bag. Harry’s hideout was catty-corner to his house so the trek didn’t take any time at all.
Harry wasn’t there, he’d said that he wouldn’t be let out of his cupboard for a few days, so Wade put himself to work making the place a little more comfortable for his Angel.
And if a couple of voices whispered all of the dark things he wished to do to Harry’s family, well, no one was there to see the bloodthirsty expression cross his face as he relished in the fantasies playing out in his head.
~
Harry couldn’t remember ever being so happy in his life. The three years he spent with Wade seemed like a dream.
Until it wasn’t.
“What do you mean you have to leave?” Harry cried out. His chest felt like it was bleeding every bit of happiness it held.
“My dad was offered a position in Chicago. I don’t have a choice, Harry.” Wade looked just as distraught, tears wetting his cheeks and arms wrapped tightly around himself.
Harry and Wade had just spent the most amazing day together, doing all of Harry’s favorite things in honor of his eleventh birthday. Wade had tried his hardest to keep his grief at bay, to give the younger boy one more day of happiness.
“I have to leave in the morning,” he barely managed to whisper. He gazed at the boy who held his very heart in his hands. At the tiny wisp of an Angel, at the person who’d shown Wade what it meant to love. He couldn’t contain it any longer and gently wrapped the weeping boy in his arms. “I’m going to come back for you, Harry. I promise. As soon as I turn eighteen, I’ll be back, okay?” He pulled back from the hug to gaze imploringly into Harry’s emerald eyes full of tears. “Will you wait for me?”
“Always, Wade. I’ll always wait for you.”
Final Note From the Crypt Keeper
While some scrolls scream and beg for mercy... this one whispers.
It does not claw or curse.
It lingers.
A story of bruised hearts and blanket forts.
Of promises made when the world had nothing else to give.
Even now, long after the ink has dried, it still hums with the echo of a sacred oath.
Two boys. One vow.
A kindness strong enough to pull the stars closer, just for a night.
This entry may be unfinished, but it is not unloved.
Let it rest here, honored, remembered, and wrapped int he warmth it gave to others.
-𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓻𝔂𝓹𝓽 𝓚𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻
(Archivist of Almosts. Believer in Broken Things. Witness to Worth.)