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[It's strange that wearing something other than his spandex ensemble would make him feel more naked in public, but there it was. Wade always was a master of contradictions. Even with the image enhancer in place, which gives him the appearance of what he'd looked like years before the cancer, the absence of cloth covering his face is enough to make him feel a little uncomfortable. But this place has recently opened, and he supposes they're not exactly used to costumed superheroes traipsing right on through. Not yet, anyway. Give it a few weeks.

As he sits there, alone in an unfamiliar Indian restaurant after waving away the waitress for the second time, he once again entertains the notion that he's been stood up. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened to him, and it's not as if he was prepared to make a big deal out of today anyway. After all, he's had tons of birthdays come and go without incident in his lifetime. What's one more?

Still, something causes him to keep glancing over at the entrance, waiting for a familiar face to come walking through. There must be some reason he keeps waiting, some reason he keeps holding back from eating a solo dinner and leaving to resume the festivities in the solitude of his apartment. It may seem pathetic and more than a little schmaltzy, but this is the first time Wade's ever had a chance to share this day with someone else in quite a long time.

He supposes that's worth waiting for, even for just another five minutes.]

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[Don't do it, Travis. It's stupid and sappy and you're slightly drunk and you ~~really really like this guy~~ are going to embarrass your friend with it and--]

It's just.

[Shit. It's too late. The words are there.]

We're not outside anymore, you don't really need to... hide your face from me or anything.

[He JUST manages to keep "because I thought it was all right from the start" in. Nope. Too gay.]

[And that stops him cold. The smile on his face wavers.]

You--

[He cuts himself off before he can say any more. He doesn't even know how he would finish that sentence. The awkward silence seems to stretch out for minutes instead of seconds, and he finds himself missing his mask. Hiding his scars is not the only reason he wears it, after all.

Wade's tongue darts out nervously to wet his lips, and he presses them together in a tight grin, hoping beyond all hope that Travis is too drunk to notice his little slip-up.]

Heh. Well, if you're gonna get all sentimental about it...

[He presses a few invisible buttons on the watch, and the image shimmers and fades. Wade chuckles again.]

There. Transformation complete. Regrettin' it yet?

[...shit. That sounded too disparaging. He awkwardly clears his throat and changes the subject. This is about making sure Travis is okay, after all. Not his little insecurities. He can deal with those later. Much later.]

Here, why don't you... have a seat over there? [He waves his hand in the direction of the kitchen table.]

I'm just gonna get some things real quick. Won't be long.

[And before Travis can utter a reply, he's heading off-- a little unsteadily-- to the bedroom.]

There we go.

[That's the Wade he knows. The way that he falters doesn't quite register with him, though Travis does sense, sort of remotely, that something's a little bit... off.]

I think you're overestimating how much I like Ryan Reynolds, man.

[And cracking a joke doesn't seem to solve Wade's problem. He's never been good at these awkward silences, either, so he mutters a small sound of agreement and sits where he's told.

As soon as he hits the seat, he breathes a tired sigh.]

Damn.

[It's almost been too eventful of a night for him. Hopefully Wade hasn't tripped over himself or anything-- it's going to take a lot to get Travis out of this chair.]

[To Wade's credit, he only has to stop once to realign himself as he makes his way through the bedroom. It's okay, sometimes the floor likes to tilt every once in a while. Especially when he's been drinking this much. Not a big deal.

He manages to reach the adjoining bathroom without too much trouble (although the mat trips him up and nearly makes him fall into the sink-- he briefly entertains the idea of setting it on fire as punishment) and opens the medicine cabinet, gathering the emergency first aid kit on the first shelf.

The first aid kit was a leftover from the last occupant of this apartment, and since Wade never needed to use it for anything, it just stayed in that one spot. Several times he'd thought about throwing it out, but never actually got around to doing it for some reason or another. Now, he's secretly grateful that he never actually followed through on his numerous plans to be rid of it. At least it was getting some use after all this time.

He shuts the medicine cabinet, doing his very best not to look in the mirror as he does so (he finds that he's less self-conscious when he doesn't know what he looks like) and once again makes the wobbly trip back to the kitchen and Travis.

He grins as he approaches, lightly shaking the first aid kit as if it's a box of candy.]

Lookee what I found~! Don' worry about a thing, okay Trav? Doctor Wilson's gonna take good care of you.

[A pause.]

Wanna take your shirt off? We still kinda need to... assess the damage here.

[He chuckles.]

Well, Doc, you got your work cut out for you.

[Travis pulls his shirt up over his head without any hesitation: after a few years of getting into scraps for pay and even more years of doing it for free, he's not shy about baring himself like this. Not when there's obvious wounds that need to be taken care of.

And obvious wounds there are. Travis' torso is very quickly turning several fetching shades of bruised. There's a long cut along his side that's still dripping blood: shallow, but very present.

He blinks and looks down at himself.]

...Huh. You really do. Didn't think it was this much of a mess.

[Wow.

Even disregarding the healing factor, bruises don't exactly show up too clearly on skin already covered with scars, and so Wade has forgotten just how colorful the human body can get when it's wounded-- various shades of green and blue and purple and black. Some red in there too, if you count the blood.

Aside from the cut on his side, the other injuries don't seem too bad, but Wade has learned from experience that appearances can be deceiving. He'll have to at least check to see if there are any broken ribs underneath all that bruising. Can't be too careful, after all.

His eyes rove over Travis's body, taking note of all the areas he'll need to examine: those strong-looking shoulders, that firm chest; those subtle stomach muscles that become visible every time he takes a breath--

...Fuck. Wade swallows hard and struggles to keep on track. Drunk and horny is never a good combination, especially when he's got an injured buddy to take care of. He offers Travis another quick smile.]

Nothin' I can't deal with. I've seen much worse, believe you me.

[He opens the first aid kit without further ado, using the small bottle of peroxide to soak one of the cotton swabs. He immediately applies it to the shallow cut on Travis's side, using what he hopes are gentle strokes.]

Sorry if this hurts a little. Doin' the best I can under the circumstances.

[Travis doesn't flinch at the peroxide, but the grimace on his face and the hiss of him sucking the air in through his teeth is enough to show that it doesn't feel great.]

Ngh... shit, forgot how that stings.

[He casts Wade an uneasy expression.] Gotta grin and bear it though, right? Don't want you to think I'm some sorta-- ow, ow, watch the big bruise there-- some sorta punk amateur, right?

[Don't think Travis doesn't notice those wandering eyes, Wade. He's not shy about that either, but... when he's spotted purple and black and blue isn't exactly the right time. Still, he's enjoying the attention, for reasons that he's beginning to realize are entirely unsexy.]

Thanks again for this.

Pfff... amateur, no. Punk, maybe. How else're you gonna explain that hairstyle, huh?

[The cut's long and pretty ugly, but at least it's shallow. Still, Wade figures it could do with a dressing. He takes some gauze out of the kit and applies more peroxide to it before pressing it firmly against the wound. He wraps a bandage around Travis's body to hold it in place, finally shrugging as a response to the other man's thanks.]

You don't have a healing factor. What kinda drinking buddy would I be if I just let you lie there an' bleed?

Hey. The hair works for me, all right? Don't knock it.

[He doesn't sound entirely offended, though. Travis gives the bandages a light touch, checking to see if it's secure. (It is-- very. Wade's pretty good at this.)]

And if that was the case, I wouldn't have come with you in the first place.

This was, uh.

This was fun.

[Wade's fingers hesitate over Travis's sides. He still has to make sure Travis doesn't have any broken ribs and internal bleeding, but his sudden shift in tone has surprised Wade. He lets out an awkward chuckle, his lips quirking in an embarrassed smile.]

This is, uh... this is usually par for the course with me, so it's always fun. But, uh... it was nice. Havin' someone to share it with, I mean. For once.

[He hadn't meant to add that last bit. Wade's never been too good at keeping his tongue in check under normal circumstances, and alcohol only makes the problem worse. He supposes that's just another thing he and Travis have in common. Wade clears his throat and begins the task of examining Travis's sides, fingers gently probing and searching for anything out of the ordinary.]

Lemme know if anything hurts, okay? Like, not in a bruised way or anything-- I mean if it really hurts.

Same. Not like I've got a whole lot of people to hang out with in the first place-- not that that makes it any less, uh.

[He's spouting such bullshit right now. Wade's not helping, with his feelings and his hands doing things, and--]

I-- [Travis' voice nearly catches in his throat.] I'm okay. Pretty... pretty great, all things considered, really. Don't worry 'bout me, I just hope I gave you an all right birthday, if you don't get to do this kinda thing often.

[Wade is close. Way too close. If his chest keeps doing these stupid flips, he swears he'll punch through it again himself.]

[Wade's grin turns sly, though he doesn't look up from his ministrations. Making sure your buddy doesn't need to go to the hospital is serious business, okay.]

I dunno. Does having a nice dinner, drinkin' yourself stupid and pickin' several fights while havin' a bro to back you up count as an "all right" birthday to you? 'Cause that's pretty much a recipe for an awesome birthday to me.

[His grin fades as he turns momentarily serious.]

...Thanks, by the way. For, uh... makin' it memorable.

[Dammit, inebriation. Stop making him sound ridiculous.]

You're welcome.

[Travis Touchdown's never really been the conscientious type, evidenced by the fact that he's friends (and then some) with Wade in the first place. He doesn't think things through before he does them, and he never has-- probably never will. Not entirely.

But kissing a guy on impulse has, after all, done good things for him before, hasn't it?

Travis leans forward and kisses Wade. He'd been intending something a little more intense, when the idea'd first crossed his mind a couple hours ago: drunk, reeling from the rush of a bar fight (or three), he was supposed to downright pounce the guy, fuck him as stupidly as he'd done the first couple times. He hadn't been bandaged and aching then. He's also got less room to move. (Like he wants Wade's hands off him right now, anyway.)

It's a small gesture. Simple. His lips linger for only a little while. And just like that, he leans back into his chair again.

Travis finds himself staring at Wade, as bewildered as if he was the one who'd been kissed out of nowhere. There goes the whole "don't turn this into anything date-y" idea: he doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to do next.]

[Before Travis makes his move, there's a bit of awkward silence in between them... or so it seems to Wade. He lets out another embarrassed chuckle-- man, how many has that been so far? He should keep a record.]

Heh. Sorry. Didn't mean to kill th--

[And then he finds that his words are stolen from him. The sound he makes is soft, muffled by Travis's mouth. Time seems to stretch out-- god, it sounds like such a cliche, but the seconds that pass between when Travis's lips touch his and when he finally pulls away seems almost infinite. Wade opens his eyes when Travis parts from him, and even that surprises him-- he didn't realize he had closed them.]

...Oh.

[The word is a sigh; little more than an exhalation of breath. The drink must be finally catching up with him. Now that he's finished playing nursemaid to Travis the intoxication's finally set in, which would explain why his mind feels so stupid and sluggish right now.

He doesn't quite remember a rapidly pounding heart being one of the symptoms, though.]

Shit. That was stupid.

[Travis runs a hand through his hair, nervous: Wade's not looking like he's got much of anything to say to break the tension Travis has just pushed over the edge.

He stares up at Wade apologetically.] You're ok, right?

[And for once, Wade doesn't preface his actions with any sort of quip or witty remark. He doubts he could even think of one if he tried.

He merely leans over and kisses Travis on the mouth-- softly, as if afraid that even that small action would aggravate his injuries. His hands slide over the bare skin of Travis's hips, pulling him gently closer as the kiss grows deeper; more intense.

The muffled sound he makes now is one of pure pleasure, as if some part of him deep down had always wanted Travis to kiss him tonight-- and perhaps that was true. He slips his tongue teasingly across Travis's lower lip, taking in the mixed taste of alcohol and spilled blood that he's both surprised and not surprised to discover he doesn't mind.

Needless to say, he's definitely okay. More than okay, even. Utterly fan-fucking-tastic.]

[Oh.

That's a good enough answer for him.

Travis inches forward, lips parting eagerly as he eases into the kiss. It's true. This is what he'd been quietly hoping for--and trying to stifle--all night. The taste of alcohol and his own blood is on his tongue, and he doesn't care: all that matters is that he's here and that Wade's hands are on him again.

...Though. Something's bothering him. He pulls away reluctantly.]

Wait-- Wade, hang on. You're drunk and I'm, uh, I'm pretty banged up already right now.

[Wait a second. Is he actually turning down sex? Oh God, he really is, isn't he?]

We probably... shouldn't. [Oh God it hurts to say that why is his waste of a conscience kicking in NOW of all times.] Not that I wouldn't if we could.

[Wade blinks stupidly as Travis pulls away, almost as if he can't comprehend why he would stop. Oh shit, am I doing something wrong? Did he actually not want this? Is--

As he listens to Travis speak his piece however, he feels a strange sense of relief. Drunk as he is, he's at least self-aware enough to feel somewhat gratified that Travis isn't the type of person to take advantage of someone in a moment of weakness. Not that he'd ever expected Travis to be that type of person, but... well, he's misjudged people before, hasn't he?

He mentally blocks that train of thought before it can travel to... he doesn't know where, but he's pretty sure it's not going to be pleasant. Instead he offers Travis a reassuring smile.]

Don't worry, okay? I, uh... [A self-deprecating laugh.] I don't think I could do anything even if I wanted to. And I do want to. Really bad. But ever since-- well. I made a promise to myself years ago: no sex when heavy drinking's involved. I mean, 'f I can't even walk straight, there's no point in me doin' the horizontal mambo, y'know? It'd just be awkward for everyone involved, and I don't wanna, like... embarrass myself in front of you or anything.

[He leans forward to press his forehead against Travis's, giving him another soft, swift kiss.]

Makin' out's fair game, though. If, uh... if that's okay with you.

[Travis shrugs a shoulder.] Hey, fair enough.

[Thank God. He feels weird turning down sex he actually does want, but at the same time, going any further now wouldn't have sat well with him at all. At least Wade is still somewhat reasonable of a drunk. Unlike, er... Travis himself, actually. Whoops.

And just because he's been trying to stuff his tongue down Wade's throat for the last what-seems-like-forever doesn't mean that he doesn't feel the effect of that close contact. His breath hitches for a moment, and he finds his hand instinctively on Wade's arm, squeezing gently.

Kissing on its own has suddenly become more intimidating than sex.]

More'n okay.

[Maybe he is getting too close too quickly. He shouldn't be thinking--well-- teenage girl thoughts, or admitting quietly to himself that god yes, Wade can be reallyreallyreally fuckin' cute sometimes.

Travis slides forward and onto Wade's lap, kissing him eagerly: silently, he directs the wrist he's already got a hold on to the expanse of skin where shoulder becomes base of neck. Impulse, and how badly he wants to kiss Wade and not stop, have won out against all his worries yet again.]

[Wade has time for a small noise of surprise as he feels Travis's weight settle into his lap-- the kitchen chair creaks loudly in protest and he prays that it'll hold together-- and then Travis is kissing him again and his mind is once again fully and wonderfully occupied. He sinks eagerly into the kiss, his breath becoming a sigh against Travis's mouth, and when Travis guides his hand higher he follows with the other one, cupping Travis's face as he gently nibbles on his lower lip.

It's... strange, really-- kissing someone for its own merit and not as a precursor to sex. He can't remember the last time he's done it (his mind unhelpfully tosses up that scenario in the closet, but that isn't quite the same, is it?) Wade finds it oddly liberating-- though there's still some part of his brain that aches for him to up the ante a little bit. It's nice. Really nice, actually.

His heart is fairly thrumming in his chest now, from the closeness; the feeling of Travis's lips against his and the soft sounds he's not sure Travis is aware that he's making. It's an altogether weird feeling, but not unpleasant in the least.

In fact, he's pretty sure he'd be very happy if he could just keep feeling this way ~~forever~~ for a while.]

[The cut on his lip still stings a little--probably should have considered that before throwing himself headlong into a makeout session, but since when does Travis consider anything--but he ignores it: it'll work itself out eventually, and he's getting used to it already. He hums a soft noise of approval, settling more comfortably on Wade.

It isn't until the chair creaks yet again that he remembers himself. As well as the fact that there are two grown men on one feeble kitchen chair. He pulls away, blinking at the other man, then down at the chair, then, a little embarrassed, back at Wade. Travis leans his cheek into one of the hands cupping his face, almost apologetically.]

...Yeeeeaaah, this probably wasn't one of my better ideas.

[Being very careful not to knock the chair over, too, Travis maneuvers off Wade's lap, a hand resting on his upper arm for support. (And maybe 'cause he just likes the guy's arms, too. Sue him.)]

So! Couch?

[It's posed as a question, but Travis is already moving in that direction, hand lingering on Wade's shoulder for just a moment more. He flops rather unceremoniously on the couch. His hair's almost entirely undone, lips a little swollen, torso bandaged up-- but in spite of how unkempt he looks, Travis is grinning wide, entirely at ease.]

[Wade's sure there's an answer in his hazy, muddled brain somewhere-- though the booze and the fervor of Travis's kisses are doing wonders to stop it from traveling down to his mouth-- but it becomes a moot point when Travis ends up maneuvering in that direction anyway. Good thing, too. Wade probably would've wanted to stay there until the chair actually broke underneath them.

He takes a second or two to collect his bearings, and even then it's quite the effort to actually get out of the chair. The sight of Travis sprawled upon his couch looking decidedly, irresistibly disheveled is what ends up driving him forward, because fuck-- shirtless as he is and with his hair all mussed, the man looks entirely too tasty for his own good right now.

Wade manages to make his way to the couch, sitting down heavily with a rather gusty sigh. Wordlessly he gives Travis a pointed glance, shifting his gaze down to his own lap as if wondering why Travis hasn't repeated his previous actions yet.]

Pray continue, Mr. Touchdown. 'm at your mercy 'n all that.

[He chuckles, aware at how ridiculous he sounds, and eager to feel Travis on top of him again. He always was a little greedy.]

Edited 2013-07-06 07:35 (UTC)

Whatever you say.

[And Travis obliges, very readily; he moves back onto his lap without missing a beat, knees bent and straddling Wade's legs. The sight of the man beneath him, expectant, is enough to give him pause-- he's got a nice view, and (among other things) Wade's got a nice smile. Particularly when he means it.

He can't sit and stare for long, though. He nearly brings them lower, but in the interest of actually controlling himself, lets his hands rest idly on Wade's chest, fingers occasionally moving but largely of a desire to be active, er, elsewhere. Travis leans in close and kisses him again, soft, slow, drifting away from Wade's lips and toward the corner of his mouth, the line of his chin, the sensitive skin of his neck.]

God, Wade.

[He doesn't know what exactly he's trying to say, and he doesn't follow it up with anything: just a sigh, his breath on Wade's skin.]

[As if they've got minds of their own, Wade's hands wrap themselves around Travis's hips automatically. The sight of Travis looking down at him briefly catches him off-guard, and his smile wavers slightly as he feels something jolt in his chest. Shit. Travis has to stop looking at him like that; like he wants Wade as badly as Wade wants him.

It's making him feel... odd. Though it's not unpleasant. Not in the least.

He gladly accepts Travis's mouth again, sucking briefly on his lower lip, and when Travis moves to explore other areas he tilts his head back with a moan of approval. There's that instinctual inner alarm when he exposes one of the more vulnerable parts of his body, but it's quickly silenced. Now you've got me doing this, he has time to think to himself, amused. You're gettin' to be a bad influence on me, Trav.

His fingers tighten against Travis's hips; he slides against them-- it's so hard not to when Travis is doing such amazing things to his neck right now-- inevitably causing some delicious friction down below.]

Mnnn... goddamn, dude. The hell'd you learn to kiss like that?

[But Travis does want him-- badly enough to go back on his word and to kiss him when he'd spent so much of this evening telling himself he wouldn't. Something about that man that's getting him. Something.

The noises that he's making are part of that, and Travis can't help stealing glances up at Wade. God, he looks... he doesn't have a word for how good he looks, head tilted back like that.

Fuck the adjectives. He can't think in straight lines anymore. Travis manages to stifle a moan-- they need to slow down, as much as he doesn't want to, his hips moving against Wade's of their own accord.]

Me? [He pauses and rests his head in the crook of Wade's neck.] Heh, well. [He moves a hand down to where one of Wade's rests on his hip.]

Copying you a hell of a lot. And getting creative with it.

[It's not like he's had the opportunity to practice much before Wade, really.]

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never has this icon been more appropriate

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wow strangely appropriate icon is strangely appropriate XD

pffff

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