Chapter 5
Wade wakes up to a warm smile and a slightly concerned frown. In that order. Peter is smiling at him, though concern is high in his features. Peter glances down at his body, and furows his eyebrows. The lower half of his regenerating body hurts like a bitch, but he's pretty sure it's just bones and veins. Those always come first. Than the organs and vocal chords. Then he gets his muscles and then his arm and leg bones. When more mucles. Then his fingers and toes. Then his dick. That would amuse him if it didn't hurt like a fucking bitch.
[I don't think bitches actually hurt that bad, though?]
[Shut up and just accept the Author's use of a well known, often used, descriptive term]
White's right though
[Shut up, Wade. No one gives a fuck about your opinions.]
Wade let's the boxes bicker about the phrasing and continues on down the dirty thought path he was headed on. Which is only dirty because he's on it, and it's his thoughts. It's mostly a blank path, which is probably because he's a pretty stupid person. In a smart way.
[Yeah, right, smart my ass]
Wade ignores Yellow in favor of filtering reality into his brain. Peter is waving his hand in Wade's face, trying to catch his attention. Wade makes eye contact with the brunette, blue eyes meeting brown ones.
"Hello? Deadpool? I was wondering if you needed another drop of the eye contacts?" Peter questions kindly. Wade's eyes do burn a bit, so he looks up in affirmation. Peter smiles and nods, before pulling the dry cloth gently off of Wade's head. Wade gets to watch Peter's add he dampens it, but it goes out of view when Peter retrieves the eyedrops.
Peter does his thing, putting the damp cloth on Deadpool's head after administering the eyedrops. Then looks down at the rest of his body in concern, biting his lip thoughtfully. Wade wonders how much of his body needs to regenerate, and also how quickly he can leave. He doesn't really want to scar his hospitable host with his ghastly and gruesome scars that scare.
[Making alliterations, now? Really?]
[Hey, that was good!]
[Yeah, for a shitty slam poetry writer, maybe.]
Wade ignores them again in favor of focusing on Peter. Peter drums his fingers on the coffee table, thoughts running in his head in an almost visible fashion. Wade can practically see the gears turning. He thinks maybe this is it. Maybe Peter is finally going to reveal himself as some evil scientist fucker who's going to lock him up somewhere.
[We're already in a tank]
"Does it hurt?" Peter asks. Wade looks up, and Peter's face screws tighter into a frown.
"Can I do anything to help?" His eyes flick down. Peter continues frowning.
"Do you wanna get moved to the bathtub?" Wade looks down.
[Bathtub, really?]
[Well its still better than what we deserve.]
[True. But still. A bath tube?]
Wade watches Peter sigh in resignation. Shoulders slumping down ever so slightly. He still looks like he wanna fixes it, though. Peter runs a hand through his hair, before getting up to get himself ready.
Wade likes Peter. Sort of. He doesn't trust Peter, but he likes the Peter he's met. The nerdy, geeky, somewhat dorky Peter who has the most delicious ass to grace the planet.
[Mmm, that ass.]
Wade likes that Peter, but he doesn't like the slow signs of malnutrition he seems to be showing. It concerns Wade that he hasn't really seen Peter eat anything over then a sandwich a day, and the fact that he can practically see his bones is another issue. Peter's eyes also hold bags under them, which makes Wade wonder where Peter goes every night after work.
Before White or Yellow can respond to that thought, Wade pushes in another one. Maybe, when he's fully healed up, he can take the guy out on a date. Or at least get him some thank you food. There's that really good Chinese food place nearby. He thinks. He's not entirely sure of Peter's address.
[You won't be doing anything for him when your fully healed, dumb ass. Hell be to scared of you and your deep-fried testicle face to eat.]
[Yeah, he'd vomit at the sight of you! How can you take him out to eat if he knows what you look like?]
Shit. You're right. How the fuck am I supposed to stop him from seeing me?
Wade takes a moment to panic, before an escape plan hatches into his mind. He'll leave before Peter gets home. Once he has legs, of course. He'll ditch Peter and go regenerate in a dumpster somewhere the rest of the way.
Yellow helpfully reminds Wade of how this will make him seem ungrateful. Also, that he's in a tank. Which begins an argument about whether or not Peter is Weapon X. Wade decides he doesn't believe it, and let's White and Yellow argue it out.
Wade wonders what kind of food Peter likes, before sleep hits him with a tidal wave.
~
Wade wakes up and realized his vocal chords are back. His first reaction is to groan softly at the growing pain and the insides-touching-outsides pain. And the everything pain. He almost doesn't here the door open. His first thought is 'fuck. me. please.' the it's 'who the fuck came in?' followed quickly by a 'god fucking damn it is it a scentist?' followed by a 'oh, no it's just Peter' which was quickly followed by a:
"Well if it isn't my nice ass caretaker, Peter!" which was followed by a:
"Jesus Fucking Christ!"
[Jesus fucking Christ?]
[Masturbation?? In this Christian house?]
[How? How do you even?]
[Well Jesus and Christ are the same person, right?]
"How dare you talk about masturbation in the good christian house?" Wade uses a mock scandalized tone. Drama was in his blood, after all. He thinks.
"Masturbation? How- Oooooh," Realization dawns on Peter. "Well, I'm never going to say that again."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Petey," Wade chirps. Peter makes a sound usually accompanied by eyerolls before walking into Wade's line of sight and plopping down on the ground.
"Oh, bite me," Is Peter's response as he checks if the cloth is damp, "Do you think you'll need more eyedrops?"
"Nah, Petey Bear, I'm thinking I'm good till the next time your delectable ass comes to check up on me."
"So I did some research, Deadpool," Peter starts. Wade feels his blood metaphorically freeze.
[Oh shit, here it comes.]
[He's gonna kick us out!]
[We are so. Fucked.]
"-And I found out your name is Wade?" Peter finishes. Wade is hit with a rare second of speechlessness.
"Um, yeah, Petey Sweetey, that's my name. Why's that important?" Wade responds. Peter blinks, as if he needs to remind himself people can't read his thoughts.
"Oh, well I just wanted to know if I could call you Wade. You know, instead of Deadpool." Peter smiles that dazzling smile.
"Oh, yeah, Baby Boy, what ever floats you and your delicious ass's boat." Wade tries for a grin but he doesn't have skin so it buuurrrnnnsss. Peter looks at Wade strangely.
"What's up with the nicknames? Also, my ass is not that great... Is it?" Peter resists the urge to check his behind. Wade can see the small finger twitching. Wade stops himself from smirking.
"Your ass is peeerrrrfect!" Wade responds. "Like chimichangas but better! Like, tacos. It's like, a holy stack of enchiladas topped with ice cream and topped even more with Chinese take out while in a box made of pizzas. It's like, all wrapped up in a tamale. It's churros and hot dogs, Baby Boy. It's the holy grail of all the grails. It is the pizza topper of the pizza toppers. The ass of asses." Peter blushes ever so slightly.
"Really? Um, thanks, I guess. Your ass is probably better than mine-"
"No, Baby Boy, your ass is sweet, sweet, perfection to which no one can compare!" Wade insists. He's not sure why Peter's ass is the best, but it is.
[Uh, the pertness?]
[The perfect shape?]
[It's even the perfect size!]
[Perfectly squeezable?]
[Look at it!]
[We can't.]
Wade stays quiet, not sure what to say. (Although, if anyone asks, he totally wasn't silent. He's the fucking Merc with A Mouth, damn it. No way in hell is rep's gonna be tarnished by some kid with a perfect ass.)
"How old are you, Petey Wheatey?" Wade asks, "Because I'd hate to be thinking of you the why I'm thinking of you if ou were ust a kid. And you look like a fucking kid. Which totally isn't fair because hot fuckity damn your ass is sweet. I can't have this taken from me, your ass is just so-"
"I'm twenty three, and why am I wheatey?" Peter responds. Looking somewhat amused.
"Welll, Petey, I'm glad you asked. See, wheat is golden and your golden, and also, it rhymes."
"Okay?" Peter looks slightly confused, which is an adorable expression on hs face.
"Holy fuckity fuck you look adorable when your confused!" Wade blurts out, eyes adoring. "Almost like tacos. And I love tacos. They are delicious with their..." Wade begins to ramble about tacos. Peter listens with a small smile, occasionally adding commentary.
It's peaceful until Peter has to leave.