Wade Wilson (Deadpool) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ishotyouuu) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
busemox2013-03-03 12:13 am
ishotyouuu) wrote in busemox2013-03-03 12:13 am
(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.]
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.]
no subject
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.]
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[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.]
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[All the same, he briefly pauses at the doorframe, sagging a bit as the intoxication and the weariness momentarily overtakes him. It's been a very eventful night, all things considered, and healing from multiple injuries does tend to take a lot out of you.
His shirt, freed from its confines, slowly slips off his shoulders to the floor, and he can't really be arsed to pick it up. Well, that and he's afraid that bending over will just cause him to plummet to the floor along with it.]
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[So this is what it's like taking care of somebody drunker than he is. Travis stoops down to pick up the shirt.]
If you're allowed to worry about me, I should be able to do the same for you. Just lemme help you.
[Honest? Check. Still pretty gay? Also check. At least there's no guarantee Wade'll remember it at all in the morning. He chucks the shirt at the nearest chair-- he's being helpful, not neat.]
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Fiiiine. 'f it makes you feel any better. Gimme your shoulder. I'm, uh... kinda wonderin' which bed to get into anyway. Seein' two of 'em right now. Point me in the right direction, okay Trav?
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It's... kind of nice, getting to take care of somebody like this.]
You got it?
should've used this for the last tag but whatevs
Heh. Whoops.
[With Travis's help, he shambles his way across the room at a snail's pace. Luckily the bed isn't that far. He nods in response to Travis's question, swaying a little. Oof. Gotta be more careful with that.]
Yeah. Yeah, I'm good.
[He doesn't move. Travis is warm. Very warm. Wade presses against him, letting out a small hum of approval. Who knew that skin-on-skin contact could feel so nice?]
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Geez, Wade. [He chuckles lightly, sitting them both down on the bed.] You usually handle yourself this well when you're plastered?
[But he's reluctant to let go of Wade again.] Go ahead and lie down. [And be the one to detach first so he doesn't have to.]
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But he's so tired, and drunk as he is he's liable to screw it up. This has been a fantastic day, all things considered. Best to just quit while he's ahead, as much as he wants to do the complete opposite. He's already been too loose with information, he can tell.
Grudgingly he relinquishes his hold on Travis, shifting forward a little so that his head hits the pillow when he lowers himself down. It takes quite a bit of effort and some detangling of his legs, but he manages to get himself underneath the covers. The bed is amazingly comfortable-- has it always been this comfortable? Feels like he's lying on a cloud-- and he can feel his eyelids growing heavier even as he struggles to remain awake.
Wade knows he's fading, and he knows there's a big dopey grin on his face right now, but try as he might he can't suppress it. He's happy, drunkenness aside. He hasn't felt this relaxed-- this content-- in quite a long time.]
Man... [A soft chuckle.] What're you doing to me? Why you gotta be so nice 'n...
[The sentence is lost in the soft buzz of a snore. The alcohol, the brawling and the general weariness have finally taken their toll, and Wade Wilson is out like a light.]
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Wait. ...Shit.
There's that damn thought again. So that's how this is going to go down, huh? He shakes his head, as if to shake any of these dumb sappy ideas from his mind. (Doesn't work in the least, but it was worth a shot.) He really has gotta get it together.
In spite of himself, Travis turns his head to look at Wade, already sound asleep. It's funny, and almost cute-- he's pretty sure only five-year-olds fall asleep that quickly-- and his expression immediately softens. It's stupid, really, that he's having so much trouble acknowledging whatever feelings or not-feelings he holds in that cynical little heart of his. He should get over it.
Because, whichever way you look at it, he likes him. Maybe, as his inner tween girl keeps shouting, like that. And really, who gives a damn how that goes down? Why should he have to deal with it now?
All he really wants is to be with him, period.
Travis smiles a little, and tugs Wade's covers up a bit more securely.]
Man, I should be asking you the same question...