Chapter 11
Wade remembers what happened. The memories come rather sudden, and all at once. Flooding his brain with memories of vague pain and death. He had been here on a job - had finished it, actually - but upon beginning his journey to his safe house had happened upon a man with a cruel smile and a woman with dangerous eyes.
[Stop with the poetry.]
[Yeah, it's realllyyy boring.]
[You career as a slam poetry writer doesn't exist so please stop.]
Well, fucking fine then. Wade hap happened across a man with a creepy as shit grin that made his stomach twist, and a woman who had this fucking murderous look in her eyes. Seriously, the tacos he had just eaten felt like they were either gonna go up, up, up or down, down, down. They were fucking creepy. Anyway, he'd seen them and had immediately decided that perhaps he should go find another safe house to hide out in for a little bit. Well, actually, he took a few minutes to decide on this, which was exactly and precisely the moment in which they decided to walk past him. Like he didn't exist, and they were talking to. He could tell it was meant for him to hear, they weren't hiding the conversation very well. A trap, obviously. Wade would have ignored them had they not happened to mention kidnapping fucking children and he'd immediately turned to completely maim a bitch, or preferably both the bitches with his own beautiful not-bitch katanas whose name were very pretty. Instead they had dissipated in a weird as puff of vaguely weed-smelling smoke and left a fucking business card, which floated down to the ground like a dainty ass feather. The card had a very nice and cursively written address upon it.
Naturally, Wade had immediately set about finding the address to save the kids who actually had a questionable place in reality. They could have been a faked story, but the man and woman had seemed like the legit types. The actual kinds of creepy motherfuckers would kidnap children just to bait Merc with a Mouths with questionable sanities and very oddly specific morals. So, Wade took off to find the address and save the kids and be his usual anti-hero self. He recalled that he the boxes were trying to reason with him, and while he's sure they had wonderful points, Wade is, in fact, a dumbass, so most of those points were ignored with complete sincerity as he got increasingly more angry and upset with the child kidnappers.
Which had led him to a warehouse that was the usual brand of creepy, foreboding, and pretty much abandoned. And he'd walked in and got himself snagged in a weird rope net that looked oddly like the ones that were always set in the fucking forest of every movie in which someone was capture ever, and he'd momentarily forgotten he was Deadpool, Merc with a Mouth and about a billion weapons. It took him a few minutes to look around and see the kidnapped children, who were crying and were tied together on a stage. Weird blood red lights shining on them as Wade regained his bearings and used his weapons to slice the everloving shit outta the net and fall out, tumbling on the ground as he tried to untangle himself. He tried somewhat to censor himself, and succeeded to enough of a degree to get the kids to laugh.
Then those two creepy motherfucking children kidnappers-
[You realize that there are like, children reading this?]
[It's Wade, they should expect this.]
[True, but-]
Popped up outta nowhere with like, a gazillion henchmen-
[230,768. We counted, remember?]
And fucking attacked Wade. Wade had managed to free the kids and get them outside to somewhat relative safety before brutally massacring all two hundred thirty thousand seven hundred and sixty-eight henchmen. He'd almost finished off the last two when the woman stuck a weird ass needle in his neck from behind and injected him with something that felt like pure ice. He'd went to kill her but then the creepy smile guy fucking shot his knees out, which proved to be a terrible problem because the woman suddenly had fucking acid in her hands, and then she shot him in the head and there was a vague feeling of his body being blown off, seconds before ringing filled his ears. Then he could feel the acid eating up his skin, and then he was dead as all fuck.
When he was finally able to see, he had been sitting on Peter's counter top.
Wade listens to the music that hasn't really stopped playing ever since he came, and is beginning to lightly doze again. He doesn't have eyelids, so it's occasionally rather hard to sleep, but he can't really control when he passes out, and the weird goggle things around his eyes are dark enough to where he could fall asleep if he tried. Peter's gone, and Wade had wanted to go snoop around his apartment, but upon exploring the option, had decided that maybe Peter wouldn't like that. He'd certainly hate for someone to go snooping around through his shit. Then again, Wade's knowledge on boundaries is rather limited, so he could be helplessly wrong. He decides against it anyway. The TV is turned off, which kinda sucks but Wade knows he could amuse himself with other things if he really tried.
Wade's pretty sure his torso's done with it's growth for know, because he can feel the growing pains of his shoulder and arm bones slowly beginning to form. Peter is clever and had left enough of Wade's general chest area higher than the box so that when his arms grow in they won't be smooshed against his sides or something. His arm and shoulder bones are dangerously numb in a so-used-to-the-pain-he-can't-feel-it kinda way. He's actually waving his knubby fore arm bones, because their tiny right now and what kind of a person would he be if he didn't wave his knubby fore-arm bones?
He passes out. It's rather sudden, but it's very hard to keep himself awake. His body just kinda shuts him down and forces himself to sleep randomly. He can't stop it.
When he wakes up, his box had rolled him into the bathroom. He stares blankly at the mirror, still trying to reintroduce himself into awakeness. His brain is spurting random information at him, and he suddenly feels it sputter to a stop as he peers at his reflection. His skin is growing back. Which is bad, very bad. First, becausecond Peter will see it. Second, because Peter will seen it. Third, because Peter. Will. Fucking. See. It. Also, his skin never grows back before the rest of body so that was a little concerning.
Wade feels a small bit of pain set in, followed by a shit ton of more panic. His skin was forming in patches, and was steadily growing at its abnormally slow rate. His whole body had been regenerating rather slowly, actually, but he suspected that was the weird thing injected into his neck's fault. He hoped his healing factor wouldn't always be this slow. He'd have to seriously rethink his life choices if he did that. Wade wishes he could close his eyes, but he can't.
His whole world starts spinning away in a mess of delirious fear. Peter was going to be revolted. He was going to kick Wade out and take the box. Peter was going to see his scars and pity him. He was going to see and he would scream. Peter was going to-
The door opened, causing Wade to breat from his stream of thoughts.
"Wade? Where are you?" Peter called in, and the sounds of him dropping his duffel bag and no his slowly advancing steps made Wade feel even more panicked. Wade rushes to hastily tell the box to close the door, breaths beginning to puff out short and wrong. Peter's footsteps stopped.
"Don't come in," Wade called through the door, voice coming out weird and cracked. Peter stays silent a moment, and Wade stares at the door knob in tensr horror. It was going to turn, because everyone opened it-
"Alright," Peter responds a little quietly. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing is wrong. Everything is as fine as your delicious ass," Wade responds, though his voice says rather the opposite.
"Alright," Peter replies, there's concern in his voice, but Wade can hear the amused smile.
Wade doesn't respond for a few minutes, letting his thoughts circulate and loop and twirl and twist into themselves. It leaves a confusing knot of words snd he begins to forget what had freaked him out in the first place, until he looks at the mirror. Peter has been quiet for a long time, now.
"Wade?" Peter suddenly calls, "Can I come in?"
"No," Wade responds, panic flaring at the thought. His skin is starting to cover about a full sixty percent of his face, now. He can't let Peter see that- see him.
"Wade," Peter calls in. Wade feels his breath hitch. Here comes the insistence, the forceful words. "Do you want me to go?"
"No," Wade says quickly. He doesn't want Peter to go, but he doesn't want him to see him. Frustration tears through him. This is the part where Peter forces him to choose, isn't it? He knew Peter was to good to be true. He knew.
"Alright," Peter replies, "Is there anything you need?"
Wade is baffled. His whole mind draws a blank. Peter isn't doing the things everyone else did. He's not leaving, or trying to force him to speak. He's not forcing him to choose between comfort and privacy or his company. Peter is understanding, which he knows is what Peter is, but it stills makes him speechless.
"I don't-" Wade starts, voice a little small, "I don't know,"
"That's fine. I'll just wait here then, okay? Tell me if you need or want anything." Peter's reassuring voice makes Wade feel calm. Just for a moment. Wade sits there for another few minutes, calming himself down. Untangling the knot of thoughts and slowly getting himself into a stable place.
"You can-" Wade's voice stumbles over itself. "You can come in now- but don't- don't look at me."
"Are you sure?" Peter asks.
"Yeah,"
The door opens, and Peter's eyes are closed. He smiles in a general direction. Wade takes a moment to appreciate Peter's aas before Peter makes his way to the toilet. He closes the lid before sitting down. Eyes still serenely closed. Wade stares at him in mild fear and hesitation. But the his is Peter, and if anyone wouldn't run screaming, it's Peter.
"You can look now," Wade's voice is small.
"Are you sure?" Peter asks.
"Yeah," Wade replies.
Peter's eyes open. Brown meeting blue. Peter blinks a few times, taking in Wade's half skinned face before a small smile runs through his face.
"Your eyes are as pretty as ever."