Nurse Parker

Wade had infested Peter’s apartment and his life for the next five months onward. A week after the first incident, Peter discovered him again, this time sitting on the rails, and clutching his bleeding bicep. Peter dressed the wound anyway because he was nothing but a man dedicated to his profession. However, it also didn’t stop him from reprimanding the merc when the man told him he just allowed some ninja mutants to slash his fleshy bit because their swords seduced him to stab himself on their shiny sharp edge.

Then there was another.

And another, until it became their somewhat routine that Peter as grumble as he may, must drag his tired ass to patch Wade up, regardless of ungodly hours Wade chose for a nightly visit. Their activities during those earlier days, though, contained with just wound-dressings, Peter’s instruction on how Wade supposed to take care of himself. Just a necessary talking but no carefree conversing.

Despite Deadpool’s reputation for running his mouth unstoppably, Wade surprisingly kept it to himself most of the time. He might quip that and throw sarcasm there, several hit-on puns but nothing chatty.

Here is Peter’s valuable lesson: patients came in different shades and sizes, including their expectations of medical service whether just keeping it impersonal or friendlier procedures. To give more or less than they wanted would certainly get him complaints or worse sued. The tough life of a nurse. Nevertheless, annoying as it sounded, Peter tried his best to ease off his patient’s discomfort because he himself once used to be in their shoes before. He understood how much illness and pain could weaken people’s mental strength.

Hence, if Wade wanted to keep it professional, Peter’d not prod or pry. However, when he almost finished the bullet wound on Wade’s chest, Peter noticed Wade’s demeanor which told otherwise. Wade was staring at Peter, looking like he wanted to let out something on his mind but hesitated to. And Peter could tell it through Wade’s mask. He had no clue how but did it anyway. Peter dubbed it as “nurse intuition.” Following his gut instinct, Peter asked Wade an ice-breaking question like why Wade always bothered him instead of getting a better treatment from the hospital.

Wade took a chance instantly by responding that Peter must take responsibility because he stole his first kiss.

“Wade, that mouth-to-mouth resuscitation didn’t count anything and I did it to save your life.” Peter explained, exasperated.

Wade gasped and began to wail dramatically. “But I saved my first kiss for the wedding day. We’re going to swear the oath until deaths do us part! Now life has killed the dream, I dreamed.”

“Duh, it’s hard to sympathize your agony when I’ve lost my first to Hersey's kisses. It was sweet and chocolate-y.” Peter snickered, patting Wade’s shoulder with mocking condolences. Wade’s body stiffen but quickly relaxed.

“Cruel nurse.” Wade sniffed.

“I appear to have the last package in my fridge. Want one?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

After the ice was broken, their regular meeting at Peter’s balcony became much more eventful. And kinda fun. There was one night that Wade didn’t injure himself so bad and they initiated a different activity that Peter’s patch-up skill wasn't required.

On that night, Deadpool showed up as usual but with a small cut from a potato-peeler on Peter’s balcony.

“You do know ban-aid exist, right?” Peter said but handed him one anyway. As he prepared to shoo Wade off, Deadpool waved his another arm that hooked a plastic bag containing Mexican takeouts. Smugly face evident through the mask. The bastard somehow knew Peter never turned down free food and abused the knowledge.

It was Wade’s idea that they dined on the rooftop of Peter’s building.

Annoyed that he got woke up in the middle of the night and had to crawl up the fire escape so they could eat greasy midnight meal, Peter followed Wade up anyway. However, all of his annoyance and sleepiness disappeared when they reached the rooftop.

New York looked… different from a higher point of view, Peter suddenly realized.

Standing near the edge, he stared at the scenery before him in amazement. Dark, light and many tall buildings. The sky was dark without stars, shy away from the sharp lighting displays of the restless city. The moon also absent, too cloudy. But the wind was not too strong. They were nice, caressing Peter’s pajama form gently. Peter closed his eye contented in letting his sense relaxed to the soothing sound and touch. It was not romantic per se but it made Peter felt almost free. From responsibilities that tied him tightly to the ground. And be himself.

Wade appeared at Peter’s side silently, offering Peter a smile.

“I bet it’d feel pretty amazing swinging between that tall buildings too. No one lay claim on that space yet but my mutation gives me no wings. Disappointing.”
Peter laughed. A genuine laugh he ever had in years.

They unofficially added rooftop dinner to their schedule since then.

But they couldn’t have dinners at rooftop every night, realistic speaking. Because it rained in New York. So, Peter invited Wade to eat in the kitchen like what civilized people did. Wade was flabbergasted.

“You want me, as in me, in your apartment?” He asked.

It was Peter’s turn to be surprised that he never invited Wade into his apartment before, with the exception of balcony. How rude had he become? Aunt May would be disappointed.

“Well, the balcony is a part of my apartment. I don’t see the difference why you can’t be inside too.” Peter shrugged. He opened the door to his bedroom, raising his brows as he waited for Wade to finally get in.

Wade still acted all awkward all the way to the kitchen. Then his boot stepped on an empty pizza box that Peter left on the floor. Peter cringed. Then he remembered why he never invited people to his house. Because it was dirty –and the floor was basically the landmine of rubbish.

“I forgot to warn you. My house is a bit messy.” Peter told the mercenary weakly, red slowly creeping up to his neck and cheeks in embarrassment.

“‘A bit messy’, huh?” Wade parroted, a tone tinged with mirthful judgment.

Peter huffed defensively, “I am a nurse. I have no time for mundane chores.”

Then, Wade placed his large hand on his head and ruffled.

“Wade!”

“Don’t get your feather too ruffled, Baby Boy.”

A day later, someone broke into Peter’s house and spirited away his collection of garbage. His dishes got clean and his clothes even ironed. Peter kept leaving candies in the fridge for his hardworking culprit.

Time actually flew. Before he even realized, his Birthday was due to tomorrow. Peter stopped paying attention to his Birthday for a long time ago. Aunt May always gave him a call to wish him well and happy. Sometimes, when the girls were nearby and free, they would take him off for a dinner so they could catch up with each other lives. But this year, with Gwen tearing down her hair on her Ph.D. thesis on biochemistry at Empire State University and MJ on tour with other Broadway casts, Peter supposed he would do what he had been doing for years on his Birthday: working.

Wade was shocked he almost fell off the rails when Peter offhand told him.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me earlier?! How I suppose to find you a perfect present in this short amount of time.”

Peter shrugged. “Thanks, but you really don’t have to get me anything. It’s nothing special.”

“Like hell, it’s not.” Wade growled, seemingly caught up in his internal monolog then he brightened up. “Worry not, Baby Boy! I’d come up with something – prepare to get a surprise!”

Peter never thought that Wade would deliver his present in the middle of the day. At Peter’s workplace. Peter was working at medical report department, organizing medical reports for the doctors of afternoon sessions when a frighten interns rushed to him. “Mr. Parker, there is a man in a costume looking for you.” She stuttered out, legs quivering that Peter had her sit down immediately before the poor girl fainted. Then, he took off.

Peter ran, meanwhile cursing Wade. Oh, Peter couldn’t wait to skin him alive.

Then he spotted him. Rephrased, it would be hard to not spot him. The man was in his usual Deadpool suit but this time he was wearing a ‘nurse costume’ on them too. It was pink and highly sexualized female uniform of nurses that could be found in a Halloween party. Or porn. That small pieces of the garment for a normal-sized female stretched out on Deadpool’s built form and looked painfully uncomfortable to everyone’s eyes but the man himself. Wade looked up from the family of patients he currently having uncomfortable chat with, his eyes shone when he spot Peter running to him.

“Baby—“Peter tackled Wade, not letting him finished, and maneuvered the oversized child to nearest room and shut the door.

Peter heaved out a sigh of misery when he heard a catcall from Deadpool who stood behind him.

“Damnit, Baby Boy. That sheer power of you.” Deadpool openly leered at Peter’s behind, “That sweet ass of you in the thin blue gown too. And I’m the one wearing ‘sexy nurse’ suit.”

“What the hell, Wade?” Peter glared at him, slowing rubbing his temple to ease off his upcoming migraine.

“Your surprise, Birthday Boy.” Wade curtsied, then he adopting that salty tone and purred “You seems tense. Lucky, I have a medicine for this.” Peter’s spine shivered.

“Ew, no.”

Wade pouted. “Peteyy. You need to be more cooperative.”

“Wade.” Peter warned.

“Parker, who the hell is that clown you’re talking too?” A third annoyed voice interrupted their talk. Peter was startled. Crap. Of all room, he had to push Wade in the nurse on-call room where, blessed Peter’s luck, Jemma J. Jameson, the terrifying head nurse aka Peter’s superior, was currently having her coffee break.

Here is the fact about Jemma J. Jameson. The woman was of the same age of his aunt. Despite having no biological relationships with the Bugle’s hardheaded editor, Jemma shared many similarities with him, last name, appearance, and personality. This mustache lady was stubborn, conservative and authoritative, with a sharp tongue that made interns and young nurses cry three times per day. Aunt May always called her ‘the old hag’ until she retired. Needless to say, Peter was scared of her.

“Well, Parker? Do we have all day?”

Peter gulped.

“He is… he is my friend. Wade.” Peter stammered nervously. Wade opened his mouth trying to say something but Peter placed both of his hands on his mouth. Peter’d not permit Wade screw up his career. No.

“Bloody hell, Parker! Spill the bean why your friend’s fucking here in the staff room and where is his permit.” The female Jameson was losing her non-existent patience.

“He is a… a cosplayer! A family hired him to play a superhero visit to their child.” Peter lied, and cringed at how weak and unconvincing it sounded. His boss raised her brows, looked unimpressed.

“Your friend is an idiot, Parker. That suit is of Deadpool, a menace. Have you even read a newspaper, kid thesedays.” Jemma said, of course, she was the only one who subscribed the Bugle.

Peter bristled.

“My friend is not a fool. He has a different perspective of how Deadpool should be interpreted. A fool is a person who blindly believes anything ill-cooked by the tabloid with no evidence to support their claims.” Peter ranted.

Jemma was gasping at him with wide eyes. Hand with a coffee cup hung mid-air. Even Wade stopped wriggling.

Then, Peter’s self-preservation kicked in.

“Oh! Ma’am, it looks like we have to go now. Bye! See you around!” Peter wrapped up and dragged Wade out of the room before his boss finally regained her conscious. Peter was so screwed.

“You defended my honor.” Wade said, astounded when they were out on the hospital’s lawn.

“With my own future.” Peter mumbled then he started to panic. “Oh gosh, you made me talk back to my boss! Now she is so going to grill my ass for disobedience.” Peter blamed Wade because he was the only one around to blame.

“Eh, in my defense, you did it yourself. I was busying sniffing your hands.” Peter groaned.

“How about let Nurse Wade handled your stiffness?” Wade began his seduction. Again.

“No, Wade.” Peter said firmly.

“No, what?”

“No to sexual advances in general. Big no to the roleplay that involves healthcare professions. I’m working with THEM. Nothing could be more turn off than imagining my boss DO that.”

Both of them shuddered in unison.

Wade showed up at night with a pizza and he did the imitation of Jemma J. Jameson all the night including that inappropriate sexual roleplaying her with the Bugle’s Jameson. Peter tried to be scandalized but ended up having an episode of hysterical laughter.

Those days were like a bright blue sky that was a deceit of the building storms which were soon going to strike the oblivious sailors.

Peter tended to look over crucial facts even they were staring at his face. Like the fact that Wade was a super vigilant and Peter was just a simple man. The big gap between their lifestyles was soon going to tear whatever forming between then apart.

He paid this thought no attention. Having Wade around somehow made Peter feel alive and he started getting compliments from staffs and patients for just looking happy. His desperation made him neglected many things he shouldn’t. Like the fact that Wade had an aggressive suicidal tendency. Peter was not blinded to not see that his wounds which Peter had been treating for months, the majority had been caused by self-harm. The rest he got from allowing people to hurt him intentionally. To feel the pain. And Peter tried not to dwell on this fact. He didn’t even have the courage to tell Wade before. Too selfish. Too afraid that it’d scare off Wade from him.

Peter was shaking at this nauseous thought. He had been shaking for three hours now, kneeled on his floor as he stared at Wade’s lifeless body.

Wade was seriously injured when he dropped unceremoniously on Peter's floor. Peter was horrified when he saw him. Wade missed both of his right arm and leg. A big gap on his bowel and bullet holes decorating throughout his body. Blood bleeding from him like a waterfall.

“I’m going to call an ambulance!” Peter told him because no way Peter and his silly little kit could do anything on that.

“No. No hospital.” Wade said through the blood. “It’ll be alright.”

He then lost conscious.

Peter didn’t call an ambulance because Wade asked him not too. Peter searched for a long piece of clothes and tied it over Wade bleeding arm and leg to fruitlessly stop the blood. He did CPR. He did and did but he couldn’t feel Wade’s pulse or his breath. Peter started crying silently as he gave Wade the last blow on his mouth. A hand dropped at his side as he began to hit the floor furiously. And wept.

Wade came back after six hours.

Wade showed up the next night like nothing happened. Rummaging through Peter’s pantry as he claimed to make Peter his famous pancake. This time, Peter didn’t let it go.

“Wade, we need to talk.” Peter said calmly, standing in front of Wade. Wade didn’t turn back to talk to him. His demeanor instantly tensed, but still kept going with cheery oblivious attitude.

“About what?” He singsonged.

“Your death, yesterday.” Peter continued. Wade hummed.

“Wade, you scared me yesterday.” Wade's hands stopped mid-air getting a pan out but soon regained its motion.

“Huh, haven’t you seen death before? Thought you’re a nurse and not a chicken.” Wade’s voice dropped to his real one. A rarely used one that was gravel and laced with violence. And pain.

And Peter suddenly felt the anger subsided in himself, rose.

“Yes! But not my friend’s death! I couldn’t not feel something seeing people whom I care about died in front of me.” Wade threw the pan into the sink. It crashed loudly. Peter refused to flinch.

“Then, what is your suggestion? I die all the time.” Wade sneered, turned to confront him. His air oozed with agitation. Wade was scared he knew how this was going and he hated it.

“I’ve noticed things, Wade. At first, I didn’t say anything that would invade your personal boundary –“

“You should keep it that way.”

“I can’t.” Peter sighed. He gave Wade a tired smile. “I’ll patch you anytime you need me to. But since what I’m not sure myself too, you’ve become my friend. I care about you. Too much that I can no longer be impersonal and neglect the fact that you need help. I don’t want you in pain.”

Wade was staring at Peter and Peter looked at him with hopeful eyes. And then,

“It’s none of your business, Nurse.” He spat venomously. Peter flinched at his word. He should know. He’d learned about this for years. This was the works of the mental defensive system. Wade was hurt, feared and he didn’t mean to say what he said. But Peter also couldn’t help that it broke his heart or how it stimulated his lacrimal gland.

Peter stood silently letting his tear down, unaware of Wade who appeared unexpectedly before him. His hand hovering awkwardly between their bodies like he wanted to touch him but he changed his mind. Wade marched out of Peter’s kitchen. With one last glance, he said, “It’s been a good killing of time, but it’s over.”

It took Peter minutes to be able to move his shocked body.

“Wait, Wade!” Peter snapped out of his stupor, but he was too late. Wade already disappeared.

He blamed himself for his slow reaction that he couldn’t talk to Wade properly. With Wade’s tendency and his current stage, Peter found it hard to sleep, knowing that somewhere out there Wade’d be taking off his life.

He didn’t sleep the next night too.

The disappearance of Wade also invited the reemergence of Peter’s old nightmare that had haunted him for a decade.