(no subject)

[crownless]

[It's never anything drastically important, or anything terribly "serious", as much as he'd hate to use a loaded term like that. They're friends in the same business, is all, and they've at least got an understanding there. If he gets bored, he rings Wade, and they go out and do... something. Anything. Killing time between jobs (that they've made very sure to not have intersect again, thanks very much) and blowing off steam together quickly becomes their routine as the time goes and goes.

Not that it bothers Travis. Doing nothing with somebody (and occasionally doing, heh, something), he's always thought, is the true test of getting along on the long term, and he likes Wade. He's a good guy, and he hasn't gotten to really waste time with somebody on a regular basis since Bishop. It's comfortable, and not an arrangement he's looking to budge on anytime soon.

Because Wade's a damn good friend, all things considered. ...Emphasis on "friend".

And to further emphasize that "friend" part, they've taken to proving they can wingman for each other and for the love of god it's gonna work this time.

Travis sighs, dials the familiar number, and waits for the ringing to stop.]

Hey, we still goin' anywhere tonight?

Comments

[ishotyouuu]

Oh. Uh... okay.

[Relief. Relief so potent that he actually feels the tension completely leave his body-- tension he didn't realize had built up inside him. Guilt follows quickly after-- what kind of person is he to actually feel good about his friend's failure? It's not fair to Travis.]

You sure we should leave? I mean, the night's still young and everything-- you might get a second chance if we stay.

[The words come out automatically, without thought. Wade's merely being polite-- the thought of going through the same rigamarole is excruciating, and that concept brings about such a wave of self-loathing that he can actually taste it in the back of his throat. Selfish. Greedy. Asshole.]

1/2

[crownless]

[A second chance? Hell no, Travis almost exclaims; having said 'no' to her was a relief for him, too, and he can't handle a second go. Does that make everything Wade did useless? Does it make this whole night useless? He feels like he's wasted his time, and Wade's time, and hates that he'd gone along with it. Because of course it'd turn to this in the end. Of course.

Travis doesn't have any answers. He doesn't have a name for whatever this has become-- because they have really, really, really fucked up the friends-with-benefits thing-- and he's not entirely sure he wants it all to... go somewhere, or whatever you would say about it. He doesn't plan ahead nearly enough to know any of those things, and in this moment, he doesn't care in the slightest.

All Travis wants right now is Wade.

One hand curls around Wade's forearm, and the other slides to the back of his neck, palm brushing the skin of Wade's cheek as it goes. Raising himself up on the balls of his feet (four inches shouldn't be this much trouble) and gently tipping Wade's head downward, Travis kisses him on the lips: slowly, tenderly, like it's been years since the last time and he's savoring it. Wade still tastes like whiskey. Travis can't find it in him to care.

Fuck.

He's got it bad for this guy, doesn't he.]

2/2

[crownless]

[Travis breaks the kiss after a time, but doesn't release his hold on Wade's arm. He's probably wrinkling it. Well, fuck the wrinkles. Fuck 'em. Fuck you, too, Wade Wilson. Fuck you and your shirts, and your neck, and the small of your back, and the space between your collarbones; fuck you and your eyes and your hands and your lips and your smile.

He licks the taste of Wade, and the taste of alcohol, from his lips. He doesn't say a word. He shakes his head, feeling rather petulant.

Hell no.]

[ishotyouuu]

But--

[He can feel the protest still on his lips before it's pinned there, trapped between his mouth and Travis's. It changes into a helpless sound halfway through, a sound of surprise and maybe a little bit of disbelief. Travis's lips are soft, so soft he can hardly stand it, and he feels the world tilt; feels it slide back into place a little. Wade holds Travis's face in his hands-- it could be said that he clutches, so lost in the warmth and sweetness of the other man's kiss. It feels like he's drowning, his heart and his lungs and his entire body filling with a sensation that he doesn't want to be rid of. When Travis parts from him, it's too soon. The universe could've undergone heat death and it still would've been too soon. His words are a sigh.]

Um. Wow. Ahahaha. Wow.

[That's really all he has the capacity to say right now. Please hold while the synapses you are trying to reach are located.]

[crownless]

[Oh, God. He broke Wade.]

So, uh.

[Wade looks so absolutely dumbfounded-- in a good way-- that Travis can't help the stupid sly grin that sneaks its way onto his face. Keep being cute, man. Keep being cute. Besides, he's pretty proud that he was the one to accomplish it in the first place.]

Hope that cleared things up. [Right. The sleeve. Travis releases his hold on Wade's arm, leaving, as predicted, some nasty wrinkles on an otherwise very nice shirt. Whatever: it's gonna end up in a pile on the ground no matter what.] But seriously. Let's get the hell out of here. This place is cramping my style.

[And the only reason why this seems like normal Travis behavior is because Wade can't hear the way his heart's threatening to completely burst out of his ribcage.]