Kiss the Day
“Ah, shit.” Dean moans, trying to sit up but finding the weight of Deadpool on his torso. With a mighty shove he manages to push Wade off to the left.
THUD . Wade looks to be missing his left leg and a chunk of his torso on the right side. Both arms are intact but the hands are gone. “Shit,” he mutters again. In the explosion, he wasn’t able to see if the witch got away, but from the looks of the guts on the wall where she was standing, she didn’t. He hopes that’s enough. Assessing himself for injuries, he thinks he has a broken ankle and potentially a couple ribs. And he is bleeding profusely from… somewhere. Feels like his hand? And, yep, that’s probably a concussion, too. “Fuck,” he groans, though he thinks it comes out as more of a whine.
The car is eight blocks away. He’s covered in guts, can’t be seen like this. Wade is missing body parts and it will take a few days to regenerate everything.
He has an older contact who he last knew to be in Florida. There’s some hunters in the northeast but no one he really trusts enough to bring Wade around. Though he isn’t a monster, mutated human won’t exactly endear him to many hunters. There’s that one chick in North Carolina from his “weekend off”... no, no , he could not call her back. That would be bad.
Grumpy about his conclusion to try Claire and Nat, he tries to pull out his phone without jostling anything. It doesn’t work. Grumpy, in pain, and woozier by the second, he manages to get it out of his pocket and finds it shattered and dead. Just great .
With a resigned sigh, he presses his hand to the center of his chest for three seconds, no longer because he doesn’t want to accidentally alert locals. The button on his chest vibrates to confirm that the message was sent. Dean can’t really fight it anymore, and passes out.
He wakes up in a hospital bed in what is clearly the compound. He’s glad he recognizes Tony’s style enough to tell, because he would be freaking out otherwise. The “hospital” room looks like a swanky, modernism hotel room. He shuts his eyes tight again at the blast of pain in his head.
Dean doesn’t move his head just yet because he knows that opening his eyes will be a bitch. He remembers faintly being woken in the old warehouse by Claire and Natasha. He remembers boarding the quinjet and being in too much pain to freak out about flying. He remembers everything, including making them bring Wade along. Claire wasn’t bothered, but Natasha was wary. He didn’t care. He didn’t want Wade to regenerate and wake up and just think that Dean abandoned him.
Fighting the pain, he manages to squint open his eyes again. It takes a few minutes, but the lights are dimmed considerably and he is finally able to focus. A clock on the wall reads eleven-thirty. That’s only an hour and a half since the last time they woke him up, because of his concussion.
The headache was drowning out most other pain, and Dean summoned the effort to take a quick glance around the room. To his right, in another hospital bed, was Wade. If it really was eleven-thirty, he should be awake right now, even if he was still regenerating… he generally woke up a few hours after death, and they had fought the witch this morning. But, reassured enough, Dean let the fatigue drag him under once again. Anything to get away from the pain.
That lasted all of twenty-five minutes, because it was time to wake him again thanks to the concussion. He saves his bitter frustration for later, because god knows the poor nurse doesn’t deserve any of it. The normal check and then he is left to sleep again. But something is off. Wade still isn’t awake.
“Wade?” Dean croaks, voice failing him. He clears his throat, which hurts immensely, and tries again. “Hey, Wade! Wake up, man.”
Wade slumbers on, the rising and falling of his chest indicating that he is breathing, but showing no other signs of alertness. What the fuck? Wade never needed as much sleep as Dean to begin with, having the whole regenerating thing on his side. He could take Dean’s nightly four hours and be actually rested, whereas Dean was only barely functional with that. Why wasn’t he waking up?
To his left, the door opened, and Claire walked in.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to bother you, I know you’re a light sleeper,” she started. “But I heard you talking, so I wanted to check in. How was the hunt?” She crawled onto the foot of the bed and sat down.
“Well, the wicked witch is dead. Have definitely seen better days, though,” Dean responded with a chuckle that radiated pain in his head and chest. He now noticed that there were wrappings on his ribs and a soft cast on his ankle, opposite from where Claire had sat. Brilliant.
“Yeah, you were both in rough shape when we got there. Glad you used your suit though,” Claire added.
“Yeah, phone was busted. Guess Tony will finally get to give me that new one he’s been badgering about.
“Badgering may be a bit of an exaggeration,” Claire said with a grin.
“How so? Badgering is exactly what Tony does,” came Nat’s voice from the door. She entered and sat down in a chair next to Dean’s bed. Claire laughed.
“He doesn’t badger. He just mentions it every time Dean shows up.”
“That’s badgering,” Nat and Dean say together.
“Fair enough,” she amends, still smiling. “But he usually drops it pretty quick for you. With me he will bring it up and then won’t stop until I make up some excuse to leave the room.”
“And do you have a new phone yet?” Nat asks.
“No, mine works fine still!” Claire exclaims.
“It dies after two hours, Claire,” comes Nat’s response. “That’s not fine , just let him give you the phone and he’ll stop badgering you.”
Claire looks as if she wants to point out that now Nat is badgering too, but thinks better of it. “Fine, he can give me a new phone. But already with the car and the suit, it just seems like too much.”
“Well, that’s Tony. Too much is not enough for him,” Nat says, though not unkindly. This seems to be a natural stop in the conversation, so Dean speaks up.
“So uh, has Wade been awake at all since we got here?”
“No,” Nat replies. Her eyebrows draw together. “How long does he normally sleep when… I mean, while he…”
“Regenerates? I dunno, maybe six? If the death is fairly simple, he wakes up after a couple hours. If he’s missing body parts, a few more? He can be awake while he regenerates sometimes. It’s kinda weird that he’s not up yet, I think.”
Nat looks at Dean, then shifts her gaze to consider Wade. “Well, he was missing some major organs and had even more blood loss than you. Maybe it’s just taking a little more effort this time.”
“Yeah, maybe…” Dean trails off, worry growing. Claire tries to distract him with tales from her latest hunt, a haunting in Maryland, and it works for now. But now that Dean has been sufficiently monitored to sleep longer bouts, he drifts off after a while and they leave him undisturbed until morning. And when he wakes up (painfully, again) and sees that it’s six in the morning and Wade still isn’t awake, his worry has turned into real fear. This is not normal.
Two days later, Dean is back in his guest room, propped up in bed and healing while pouring over books and his laptop. Wade is still asleep. His regeneration is still working (the left leg being a literal baby leg is enough evidence of that) but he hasn’t been awake for any of it. So he is stuck in bed doing research while Claire scouts the witch’s house and town for any clues as to what might be going on.
Nat has been checking in on him and bringing him food, which he tries to tell her she doesn’t have to do, but she insists. He hates feeling so… pampered. Recovery sucks, but he feels wrong about all this. It just isn’t the hunter way. He can hear Sam telling him to shut up and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, which is essentially what Natasha said. He shakes his head gently to clear it, and gets back to research, straining his eyes against all doctors’ orders. Something was wrong with Wade.
It’s been two weeks. After some forced breaks, Dean finally feels mostly recovered from his concussion. But he is nowhere closer to figuring out what’s wrong with Wade. He isn’t dead , which wouldn’t even be a problem normally, but is seemingly in a coma. His regeneration finished and he is a normal, relatively healthy, mutated human.
Claire scoured the town his witch hunt had been in, and then followed a lead two states over where the girl’s old coven was located. She was still there. Nat’s visits had become less frequent once Dean felt good enough to use crutches, but he still saw her in the common area. He knew she was doing her own research on Hawkeye. He had seemingly disappeared, but not in the dusty way. Every so often news would crop up of a vigilante sort of thing, almost like Deadpool’s old work. Nat believed that some, if not all, of these were Clint. But it was too hard to track him. He knew her tricks, he knew how to not be found. Dean felt for her.
A knock on his door was somewhat surprising, then. Nat had been absorbed in her research when he last ventured into the kitchen for food. “Yeah,” he said in the direction of the door, and he blinked stupidly when Captain America walked in.
“Uh, hey.”
“Hi,” Steve said. Dean finally felt okay enough to call him Steve, though it was weird. He was moving past the fanboy stage and slowly getting over the resentment at his attitude when they first met. “Nat seemed preoccupied, and I was about to make myself some dinner so I thought I’d offer you some if you want. It’s pasta.”
“Uh, sure,” Dean said, moving to get up. He could use a break. Upon moving, though, he realized he kind of reeked. “Mind if I clean up a bit first?” He asked, nodding to the bathroom.
“Of course,” he said, ducking his head a bit. “Just, uh, take your time. It’s almost done, I’ll keep it warm.” He then turned and walked out. Dean knew that Cap still came back to the compound from time to time but he generally didn’t come around Claire and Nat’s area. Weird.
An awkward shower to keep his foot dry and a change of clothes later, Dean headed out to the common area and kitchen. Nat seemingly hadn’t looked up from her laptop in hours, and Dean couldn’t even begin to decipher what she was doing on it. His phone buzzed with a check-in from Claire which he answered before moving to the food.
“How’s Claire?” Steve asks hesitantly, like he was afraid he wasn’t allowed.
“Oh, she’s good. That was her,” Dean shakes his phone a bit. He moves over to take a plate. “No good leads, but no witch encounters either.”
“That’s… good. I’m glad,” Steve says awkwardly. Dean just nods, taking his full plate to the island dividing the kitchen and common room. Steve leans against the counter where the food is as Dean digs in. The pasta is actually pretty good.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking… What is wrong with Wilson? What exactly are you guys researching?” Steve asks.
“Your guess is as good as mine. ‘Regenerating mutant regenerates but won’t wake up’ doesn’t exactly have a lot of wikipedia articles dedicated to it.”
“And you think it has to do with the witch you killed?”
“Yeah, pretty sure. But usually, when a witch dies, spells they cast are broken. So this one being intact, if it is a spell, is concerning.” Since when does Steve ask about hunting stuff? Dean wonders.
“Well, I have some time so if you want any help, I can lend a hand.” Steve offers.
“Not that that isn’t… swell and all, but why? You haven’t taken much interest in hunting ‘till now.” Dean asks in a carefully non-sarcastic tone. He doesn’t want to be a jerk, he really is just curious.
“I just need a little distance from… the support groups and everything. I’m kind of on ‘vacation’, per se, but… well, I need to stay busy.”
“Hmm,” Dean hums.
A few hours later, all of Dean’s books and his laptop have moved from the bed to the dining room table, where Steve is now assisting with research. Steve brought out his own laptop, which Dean looked surprised at only to be told “I’ve been in this century a few years now, I know how to use it,” with a sly smile.
They were at it for a few hours before Dean had to call it a night. Steve offered to keep working, because he wasn’t tired. Natasha hadn’t moved, either.
“Just… take a break when you need it,” Dean said, feeling so weird to be on the opposite end of that advice. “You too, Nat.”
He got a nod from Steve and a short hum of affirmation from Nat. Good enough.
Two more days passed like this. Dean and Steve began making extra food for Nat and just placing it in her field of view. Maybe half the time, it actually got eaten. Claire called to say she found a lead and was following it.
On the third day, Claire called with good news. She found a spell, in a book stowed away by the coven in a neighboring town. The spell supposedly put someone to sleep until it was broken. But neither she nor Dean knew how to break it.
“Wait,” Steve said, flipping back a few pages in his current book. “Read that spell again, Claire?” Claire was on speakerphone and responded with the old French, butchered slightly.
“I think this is from a fairy tale. A really old version of Sleeping Beauty from something called Perceforest? Part of that spell, if I’m reading it right, is here.”
Dean examined the text and agreed with Steve, although he didn’t really know how this helped.
“So what, Wade is a Disney princess now? Why wouldn’t the spell break when the witch died? How do we break it now? His wife is dead and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any girlfriends.”
Claire’s slightly fuzzy voice comes through. “I’ll work on a translation of the spell, see if I can work out a fix. You guys keep going on the fairy tale.”
“Sounds good,” Dean affirms, and Claire hangs up.
“Is this kind of thing normal for you guys?” Steve asks.
“Normal is a relative term,” Dean responds. “You should'a seen it when Sam lifted Thor’s hammer,” Dean added with a chuckle. Steve’s eyes widened before he shook his head and leaned back over the book. Dean started googling.
“I got nothing,” Steve said four hours later. “Maybe I’m missing something but all I can find is that story. And it’s the oldest known version, it’s part of a poetry book or something, not even a plain old fairy tale.”
“Yeah those Grimm brothers generally didn’t make up anything new,” Dean affirmed. “Well, what’s the story?”
“Same as any other story, just different in the details. Girl put to sleep, woken up by a prince.”
They were interrupted by the phone ringing. Dean quickly answered it, and Claire didn’t waste any time. She was out of breath already, but rambled on in a quiet but clear voice.
“So, we aren’t dealing with the real Sleeping Beauty spell,” she starts out, “but a sort of side-version that started with these gay chicks in England a thousand years ago. It’s where the original story came from, but it was a misunderstanding. Basically, this princess was in love with one of her servants, and to ‘cure her of her homosexuality’ the family hired a witch who essentially poisoned her and put her into a coma. The spell and poison eventually wore off, maybe when that witch died, and the timing was seemingly perfect because they had been hiring princes, suitors to come and kiss her awake,” Claire paused the story to take some deep breaths, but there was still a light smacking sound from her end. She sounded like she was running.
“Are you okay? Are you running?” Dean interrupted.
“Yeah, just from- yeah, cops, who saw me…” She cut off for a moment. “They saw me at this old abandoned house, probably thought I was breaking in,” she said, panting.
“You were breaking in.”
“Yeah, but for a good reason! Anyway, I’m good now. Back to the story. Princess finally woke up and they thought that guy was the reason, thus the fairy tale was born. Later, in France, the real great granddaughter of the same servant, who had been banished way back, also fell in love with a woman who was supposed to be married to the prince there. But she was a witch, and kind of put a reverse Sleeping-Beauty spell on that prince. The royal family believed in the curse, but it kept not working ‘cause they kept sending girls, and the spell only allowed a boy to break it because the witch knew that the family would never consider a boy as his ‘true love’.”
Claire was out of breath from talking so long. Dean felt like his head had just exploded.
“So what, Wade’s true love needs to be a guy?”
“Not a true love,” Steve interjected. “I kept getting confused over this part, a footnote in a book from a few centuries later, but I think it can just be any guy!”
“Yeah, I think that’s the spell. A kiss from any guy. In fact, I’m reasonably sure that the witch you killed is actually the great-grandaughter of the original servant girl, the one who cast the second original spell, without the poison. No wonder killing her was so hard, she had a ton of power. The spell will probably eventually wear off, but it could take years considering how powerful she was. We just don’t know,” Claire finished.
“Holy shit,” Dean marveled.
“So who’s gonna kiss him?” came Claire’s voice again.
Dean spluttered, “What? What do you mean?”
“Well, you want him to wake up, one of you ought'a kiss him,” Claire retorted.
“I’ll do it,” Steve piped up.
“ What ?” Dean asked, shocked to hell.
“Someone’s got to, I don’t mind,” was all he said. Dean was speechless.
“Excellent! Well, I’m on my way back soon. See you guys,” Claire exclaimed.
“Bye,” was the only syllable that Dean could choke out.
“Let’s see if it works then, yeah?” Steve said as he got up. Dean followed, still not sure that he wasn’t hallucinating.
As they neared the medical wing, Dean found his voice again.
“You sure this doesn’t… I dunno, bother you?” He asked skeptically. This was Captain America, from the, what, 20’s or 30’s? Guy this old, probably not super into kissing dudes.
“It really doesn’t. Unless you want to be the one?”
Dean spluttered again, “No, nope. I mean, uh, I guess if you think you got this, I’m not gettin’ in your way.” Steve gave him a very strange look that he had no desire to dwell on, and they continued to Wade’s room in silence. When they got inside, Steve went straight to Wade’s bedside, but Dean hesitated a few feet away. This was so weird.
Steve seemed to check in with him one last time, waiting for Dean’s signal. Dean just nodded, worrying that his face looked like he had just seen a ghost (in the traditional sense of the phrase), but nodding nonetheless. Steve leaned down, gently dragged the mask up above Wade’s mouth and nose, and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to Wade’s lips. It was over in a split second, but Dean’s stomach felt odd and he still wasn’t sure what was happening.
For a moment, nothing happened. Steve looked confused, but then, with a shout, Wade shot up like a rocket into a sitting position.
“Whoooooo! That one was a bitch and a half ,” he exclaims loudly. “What even was that one? Blood loss? Amputation? Organ failure?”
“Try a nearly thousand-year-old curse,” Steve said, chuckling with relief. Wade suddenly seemed to realize that Captain America was next to him.
“Oh. Em. GEEEEEE. HOLY SHIT. You’re Captain America! I am such a big fan, you have no idea. Love your work, taking down baddies, Hydra, yada yada. You’re an inspiration. And a fine piece of ass. How is your torso even shaped like this?? Sorry, I’m being weird. Anyway, you’re great. Can I have your autograph?”
“Uh, sure…” Steve answered with a nervous smile. He seemed a little freaked out. “I’ll sign something for you. For now, how are you feeling?”
“Wow, so rested, tbh (he actually said the acronym to Dean’s exasperation and Steve’s confusion). I don’t think I’ve slept that long in years. How long was I out?”
Steve looked to Dean to take the reigns here. Awesome.
“Uh, Wade… You were out for like three weeks,” he said awkwardly.
Wade’s mask eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
“Three weeks?” he nearly shouted, again. “What the fuck?”
“Well, like Steve said, there was a curse. The witch that we were fighting cursed you, put you into a sort of… coma.”
“So how did I wake up? Wouldn’t killing the witch break the curse anyway? Did you guys break the curse? Since when does Captain America help with hunting?” Wade spoke very quickly, and Dean’s brain just sort of buzzed as he tried to think of how to explain this without being weird about it. Turns out, Steve had no such issues.
“I had to kiss you. The curse was an old Sleeping-Beauty type thing, but it could be broken by a kiss from any guy. I hope you don’t mind, we didn’t know how long it would take to wear off if we had waited.” There was dead silence for about ten seconds, and Wade’s face was one of complete shock.
“I’m really sorry if it wasn’t okay,” Steve started again, finally getting a little nervous. “We couldn't really get your consent, so we just…” Wade interrupted then.
“I. Got. Kissed. BY CAPTAIN AMERICA?!?! AND I WASN’T EVEN AWAKE FOR IT?” he dramatically fell back down to the bed, lifting his arm up over his face. “I can’t believe it. My dream come true and I was literally cursed asleep. Wanna go again, Cap?” he asked, removing his arm from his face and propping himself up on one arm. “Make sure it sticks?”
Steve just laughed now. “I think you’re alright. Uh, how about I make some food? I’m sure you’re hungry.”
“Ugh, fine, food is okay.” Steve smiled and shuffled out. Dean just nodded at Steve as he left. Then he sat at one of the chairs near Wade’s bed.
“So, update me. What have I missed, buddy?”
After Dean explained everything and a nurse came in to check over Wade, the two headed back to the common area where Steve was making dinner. It smelled great. They sat down and waited. Wade seemed content to play on his phone, Natasha kept glancing up at him, Steve just continued cooking and Dean… well, Dean couldn’t stop dwelling on what had gone down just now.
Why did he feel so weird about this?? He didn’t have problems with gay people. Charlie was gay. Claire was gay. Cas wasn’t even human, just happened to be in a dude’s vessel and Dean… was totally fine with the fact that Cas wasn’t really a man or woman. Nothing else to it, no siree. He had his fleeting childhood crush on Captain America, but so did everyone! There is no reason why it should make him feel so weird that Steve was just okay about kissing Wade, no questions asked.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling this… awkward about something. As the group ate the delicious burgers Steve made, Natasha in her spot and the men at the table, Dean was quiet while Wade gushed over Steve. Steve was good-natured enough to go along with it. It got later and Claire finally texted that she was in a motel for the night. Dean felt weird about going to bed himself. He didn’t want to just ditch the rest of the crew.
Wade offered to do dishes, which left Dean and Steve at the table. Finally, Natasha got up and came to sit with them.
“I was starting to think your butt was glued to the couch,” Dean couldn’t help but snark at her.
“Ha, ha,” she responded dryly, taking one of the cookies Steve had made for dessert. “So, everything good here?”
“Yep. All back to normal. How about your research?”
Natasha’s eyes flickered to the laptop momentarily, then she turned back to face Steve, even though it was Dean who asked. “Another bust. I don’t get it.”
“He’s grieving,” Steve offered.
“I know that… but we’re grieving too. And he’s the only one who…”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Nat,” Steve reassured her. Natasha just sighed.
“I’ll try. Well, I’m off to bed. Night, boys,” she said as she got up to go. Dean and Steve helped finish cleaning up, and then everyone went to bed, Wade in a guest room. Later, around midnight, Dean ventured from his room to grab a book he had left in the dining room. He was curious about something and couldn’t sleep quite yet because his stomach was still in knots from earlier, for no fucking reason. On his way down the hall, he stopped when he heard voices. He always walked quietly, but he didn’t think he walked quietly enough to sneak past heightened senses. But the conversation continued, so Dean listened in. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but it was a habbit.
“-wanted to make sure you’re really okay. I know you’re having a hard time with all this.” That was Steve’s voice.
“I just… I want to scream at him. What are you doing? Why are you doing this? And why doesn’t he just come back?” Natasha said weakly.
“I know it’s annoying to hear, but really, I think this is just his process. He’s gotta get it out of his system.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but… it’s wrong, and he knows it. He’s acting like Wilson.”
“From what I understand, Wilson doesn’t do that stuff anymore. Isn’t he hunting with Dean full-time now?”
“Supposedly… I just don’t trust him. I think with enough money, he would go back to his old ways.”
“Well, hunting doesn’t pay at all, so there must be something keeping him there.”
“I don’t know, Steve. It’s just… all of it is too much sometimes. I feel weird with him being here. I know I have no right, and it doesn’t even matter because she isn’t here, but I wouldn’t be okay with him being here if Claire was home.”
Steve paused, and Dean felt his own indignance rise. That was a low blow. Wade wasn’t any threat to Claire. Or a bad influence. Nat might feel that way, but Dean thinks that his relationship with Wade is strong enough that Wade wouldn’t turn on him, not for money. Finally, Steve thought of something to say.
“Isn’t that how Tony felt when pictures of Wilson with the Spider-kid started popping up?”
“What do you know about Spider-Man?”
“Not much, just that Tony recruited him, he’s from Queens, and his voice sounded like a child. I wish I could ask Tony about that, recruiting a kid, but I don’t think he’d be very happy to hear my opinion and I don’t want to upset him. I know that Spider-Man got dusted.”
“Well, you’re right, Tony didn’t want him around Wilson.”
“But Dean seems to trust him. And Dean’s as cautious as you are, if not more so,” Steve countered.
“I know… I’m just afraid. I’ll get over it.”
“Mhmm. Well, if you need me for anything, I’ll gladly help out. And while I’ve got you here… Does Dean have some sort of… issue, or anything, with… uh, well,” he trailed off.
“Spit it out, Steve. Does he have an issue with what?”
“Gay people?”
“You mean is he homophobic? I doubt it. Claire’s a lesbian and he acts like her dad. Clearly loves the kid. I don’t think he cares. Why?”
“He just got super weird when I offered to kiss Wade. I thought he was straight so it would be less weird if I did it, since I’m bi. I didn’t mind. But he seemed so… awkward about it.”
“Huh. Yeah I think I tuned in for part of that. Maybe he has some repressed shit of his own. Maybe he’s into Wilson. Who knows?”
“Hm,” Steve murmured. “Maybe. Oh well. I’ll let you get to sleep. Goodnight, Nat.”
“Night, Steve.” Thank god Steve’s wing was in the opposite direction and he didn’t pass Dean’s spot down the hall.
What the fuck? Did Dean have repressed shit? He didn’t think so. Or at least, his repressed shit was all hunting-related. He definitely wasn’t into Wade. He was a straight dude. Definitely an ally, like Natasha said- he didn’t care that Claire was gay, and he wanted her to be happy. It’s what any good person does. And Steve was bi? Captain America was bisexual? It was frankly surprising but Dean didn’t think it was bad in any way. Why would Steve think he is homophobic? Was his awkwardness earlier rude? Dean forgot all about his book. His mind running a mile a minute, he got back in bed and panicked for a while, never reaching any good conclusion in his thoughts. He finally fell into a restless sleep three hours later.