busemox | (no subject)

(no subject)

[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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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.]

Oh, so I'm your teacher now? Dunno how I feel about that.

[God, Travis's head against his neck, the smile he can actually feel on his skin; his hand upon Wade's-- it all shouldn't be this goddamn cute. He moves his hands to Travis's shoulders, pushing him gently back into view.

He's suddenly filled with an all-encompassing urge to see his eyes-- Travis has such nice eyes, especially when they're softened like this, and oh god he hopes he's not saying all of this aloud or he's gonna be humiliated when he's sober.]

Though maybe, if you keep bein' such a fast learner... I could grow to like it.

[He leans forward and kisses him again, softly, taking care not to aggravate that swollen lip of his. His body suddenly begins to move of its own accord, sliding against Travis's, seeking more of that friction. A voice in his head warns him not to push too far, drunk as he is and in the position he's in it's only a matter of time before...

Oh. Whoops.

With extreme reluctance, Wade breaks off the kiss. It's pretty obvious that Travis can feel it-- dude's on his lap, for crissakes-- and he flashes him a shy and embarrassed smile even as he struggles to keep his hips still.]

Heh. Well. That's kinda rude. Sorry. Guess we should... y'know. Quit while we're ahead.

Edited 2013-07-06 12:17 (UTC)

Then I guess I'd better keep at it. Practice makes perfect-- right, teach?

[Wade gets one last look at Travis' blue eyes, crinkling a little at the corners as he smiles, before they fall right back into kissing, his hips pushing into Wade's.

Until, well. ~~Is that a gun in your pocket, Wade, or are you just happy to see~~ Nope, he is DEFINITELY happy to see him. That's the signal to dial it down, he supposes, even if it'll take Travis a hell of a lot of willpower to not keep going like they both wish they could.]

Oh. Sorry. [Travis dismounts, also very reluctantly. He doesn't appear to be too phased by the fact that Wade's a little hard: mostly disappointed that they can't go further (and privately a little proud of himself for not being the one to crack first.)] Guess we got a little too enthusiastic there.

[Travis gives Wade one last quick kiss, then glances down very pointedly with an apologetic expression on his face.] Next time, buddy.

[Dammit, why does his conscience have to kick in now, of all times? All he wants to do right now is have Travis get back on his lap and let whatever happens next just happen. His reluctance is somewhat eased by the fact that Travis is of the same mindset as him-- if the guy had wanted to continue Wade isn't sure he would have had the willpower to refuse him. He'll be more grateful for it later. Not that he isn't right now. A little.

He offers Travis a wobbly grin.]

Hey, don't worry about it. S'not your fault. Well-- okay, it kinda is. Still, didn't mean to go off like some stupid virginal teenager. I should have better control of myself. Even though...

[There's a slight pause, the kind of pause that usually comes right before an embarrassing and unbelievably stupid confession.]

I, uh... [Don't say it don't say it you idiot you're only gonna make this situation more awkward]

...I was a virgin, y'know. Before I met you. With, uh... with guys, I mean.

[...Fuck. Well, nothing for it now. All that's left is the uncomfortable silence. Maybe a really good ribbing about how Travis had always suspected as much. Wade braces himself for whatever comes next.]

You were a wh--

[Oh. With men. That would've been a surprise. More of one, in any case; Wade's a hell of a lot better than he'd have expected from someone who'd never been with a guy before.]

...Really?

[Travis' tone is a little doubtful. Not that he doesn't believe Wade. But it is a curious reversal: he'd felt like he was the one doing the stupid adolescent experimenting thing, not him.

And he doesn't know what to do with the slightly dubious honor of being Wade's "first".]

I mean, s'not like I fuck a lot of guys or anything either, but... I wouldn't have guessed. [he admits, equally sheepish. Wade's his second, and the first was. well. different. so he's still trying to figure things out himself.]

Edited 2013-07-06 23:02 (UTC)

...That implies that you've fucked at least one guy before, though. I mean, don't worry-- I'm not judgin' or anything, I'm just sayin'. Before you? None. Zippo. [He exaggerates the syllables of the final word, almost as if he's a game show host or someone on the radio.]

Not that I never... y'know. Wanted to before, or anything.

[Ladies and gentlemen, we have apparently reached the point where Wade has utterly lost what little filter he has. Will wonders never cease.]

[Travis laughs, more out of disbelief than amusement. Where the hell has this conversation gone?]

Well. Yeah, there was one. [A beat. He's not sure that he can say more, or really compare his teacher to Wade: that wasn't any sort of relationship, and it wasn't anything like... whatever the two of them are now.]

How's it feel playing for both teams?

[Wade has to chuckle at that.]

Kinda weird, to be honest. I mean, I always knew that I had that kinda... inclination; but actually puttin' it into practice was somethin' I never really thought about all that much. Scared, I guess.

Right up until you kissed me in that closet. Never actually told you this, but... that was some kissin'. Damn. I was thinkin' about it for days. As well as... what came after.

[He glances over at Travis with a coy smile.]

Why? How's it feel for you?

[Telling himself that he's good is a lot different from actually hearing it said to his face. But he's only turning pink because of the alcohol. Really.]

Oh, uh. Thanks. [He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed at the flattery.] I got nothin' on you, though.

[At Wade's question, Travis pauses thoughtfully.]

...I don't know. I mean, I always thought the last guy was kind of a fluke. [Or wanted to believe that he was.] He was, uh, he was that teacher I told you about earlier, and we never really... [Travis trails off. This isn't where he'd wanted the conversation to lead to, so he stops himself.]

Anyway. And then you came out of fuckin' nowhere. Didn't expect you to be... you.

[Wade raises an incredulous eyebrow at Travis's confession. His teacher? Really, how sordid of a past does this guy have? He can tell by the halting tone of his voice; the way he shifts in place that he's uncomfortable with the topic, and so Wade decides not to question further. After all, the last thing he wants is for Travis to be uncomfortable.]

Hey, you were pretty unexpected yourself. Even after that first night. And that call a few days later, when you were tryin' to work around askin' me if you could come over for round two-- didja know you sounded so awkward on the phone? So much different from that usual attitude you put on.

[Wade grins at the recollection.] I felt like I was listenin' to Baby's First Booty Call. It was kind of adorable, really. Heh. Guess that was part of the reason why I--

[He stops short. The smile slowly fades from his face as he grows silent; contemplative.]

[His tone's a little flustered; is the theme of the night is "embarrass Travis" or what.]

H-hey, it's not like I go around calling people up for that kind of stuff all the time, cut me some slack! I wasn't that awkward, either.

[Travis falls silent, listening to Wade, but when the other man stops short, it feels his heart's stalled. His mind immediately goes to both extremes-- whatever Wade's going to say is going to either be very bad and very painful, or... something he doesn't know if he's ready to hear yet.]

Why you... why you what?

[Is his voice hoarser? God. He knew it. Shouldn't have kissed him; should have just left it be.]

[Wade sighs; shakes his head.]

It's... look, I really don't wanna ruin the mood here. This whole night's been great. One of the best birthdays I've ever had. But there's just somethin' I need to get off my chest.

Y'know I never got to tell you why I threw the fight? At the hotel, I mean. Figured you'd wanna know about it sooner or later-- might as well be now. I know you think I'm still an asshole for doing somethin' like that. Any other instance you would've been right. Any other instance it'd be just for kicks. 'Cause I was bored and I wanted to troll you super hard or something.

'Cept... I didn't do it for kicks this time. I did it because... look, there was only one person who was gonna die in there. 'N that person woulda been you. Without fail. I'm not sayin' that because you suck or anything like that, it's just... I got a healing factor. A good one. An' you don't. There was only one way that fight was gonna end. And I just... I didn't want that to happen. You dyin'. Me killin' you. It just... wasn't how I wanted things to go, y'know? Even though I was paid to do it, I just... I dunno. Ever since we ran into each other at the hotel things have been... weird. Not sure what changed.

Like I said, before we got into this whole... situation, I thought you were just some egotistical douche with a silver spoon up his ass. Didn't know anything about what it was like to be dealt a raw deal by life. Then... I dunno. I just kept thinkin' back to the way you looked at me back there, back when you thought I was dead. No assassin as cocky as you make yourself out to be looks at his kills like that. Nobody's ever looked at me like that. Not for a while, anyway.

'N that was before the whole story with Bishop came out, and then I started really thinkin' about you and how you're interesting and funny and a blast to hang out with and real easy to talk to and you actually wanted to celebrate my birthday and...

[Wade breaks off; chuckles wryly to himself.] I dunno. Maybe it's just afterglow or somethin'. Long-term afterglow. That's a thing, right? Whatever.

[He suddenly casts a shy, sidelong smile over at Travis.]

I just, uh... [He swallows hard.] I think you're cool. I think you're really cool. Now.

[He doesn't give Travis a chance to respond to that. His cheeks are warm, and he's not sure whether it's the alcohol or some semblance of embarrassment over what he's just said. With a groan, Wade flops over onto the arm of the couch; covers his face with his hands. His voice is muffled.]

Jesus, I'm wasted. Don' ever let me drink this much again, promise? I get like... diarrhea of the mouth when I'm this drunk. Moreso than usual, I mean.

[How the hell can anyone be so utterly pleased and so flat out terrified at the same time?

The entire debacle at the hotel had been pushed far out of Travis' mind, at least tonight. Returning to that discomfort is jarring, and it doesn't take long for Travis to stop meeting Wade's eyes as he continues on: not so much for any of his lingering feelings, but for Wade's.

Does it really matter that much to Wade? Whether he lives or dies? It... it does, doesn't it?

The sheer weight of this realization-- someone, this someone, actually likes him without hooks or agendas, and he likes him back-- is almost too much. Travis swallows. He's speechless, and scared. But... happy. And he's a little worried about what that means for him.]

Nah, it's-- it's all right, you already know how bad I start to mouth off when I'm drunk. [He rests a comforting hand on Wade's shoulder, and hesitantly he returns that smile.]

You're not half bad yourself. Pretty great, actually. And thanks. For, well. For giving a damn.

Thank you for caring that much.

Heh. No problem. Who else's gonna be my babysitter when I'm this drunk, huh?

[It's clear to Wade that's he's said entirely too much. His face is hot, and he's pretty sure it's not from all the alcohol he's consumed tonight. He reaches up and rests his hand on top of Travis's for a few seconds before gently pulling it off of him (their palms touch for the briefest of moments, and he doesn't understand why his heart kicks itself into a trot because of it), clumsily rising into a sitting position again.]

Y'know... 'm kinda tired now. Think I'm gonna lie down. You gonna be okay? That couch turns into a futon, by th' way. In case you wanted to sleep out here.

[In case he wanted to sleep out here? Where the hell else was Travis gonna sleep? Wade doesn't know, nor does he bother to elaborate on what he's just said. Right now he's drunk and contemplative and stupidly maudlin and it's best that he gets away before he says something even more idiotic tonight. Trust him to open his big mouth and potentially ruin everything. This is why he can't have nice things.]

Edited 2013-07-10 08:39 (UTC)

Well, I probably fucked that babysitting gig up, since you're the one who ended up taking care of me. [He gestures to his bandaged torso to illustrate.] I'll be fine.

[Travis pauses. "In case he wanted to"-- what's that supposed to mean?]

But it might be a good idea for me to watch you. Make sure you stay on your side and stuff. [How many more times can he blame the alcohol (that's nearly out of his system, by the way) for his lapses of judgment tonight? He's pushing this too far.] If you're all right with me sticking around for a bit.

[Wade chuckles, running his hand along the top of his head.]

You don't need to worry about me. Haven't gotten sick in ages. Bein' drunk's no exception. But, uh... thanks. For hangin' around and stuff. I don't mind.

[He lurches to his feet, swaying a little and reaching a hand back to grasp the arm of the chair, just in case. When he's sure he's steady, he begins the arduous task of toddling in the direction of the bedroom. It's suddenly way too hot-- he's already unbuttoning his shirt before he's even halfway there.]

Yeah, but--

[Travis quickly gets to his feet and follows after Wade; the fact that he can't even remember how much this guy's had to drink probably isn't a great sign.]

--it's still gonna hurt if you fall over and crack your damn head open on the sink. Might knock you into bein' sober, though. Let me help.

[says travis, trying very hard to ignore the fact that Wade's shirt is half off already.]

(no subject)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

[1/2]

[2/2]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

should've used this for the last tag but whatevs

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)