|Marvel High, part the seventh
||[May. 27th, 2007|09:42 pm]
Cable x Deadpool
|||||Moulin Rouge & Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy soundtracks||]|
Before I start, I would like to say that this fic does not take place in Brampton Ontario. I just think it has one of the most awesome street names ever. (Check Google Maps after reading this to get what I'm talking about). There's a quite entertaining story about how I came to know about it, but that's getting off topic.
Alternate universe fanficton (don't hold that against it), Cable/Deadpool slash, crack? This is Chapter seven. Cable and Deadpool and everybody else belongs to Marvel. Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.
“Hey, how come you have an entire folder on your computer labeled ‘Wade’?”
Weasel peered around the door of the kitchen.
“Uh, ignore that,” he said.
Bob, having somehow found himself dragged off to Weasel’s house, moved the mouse away from the suspiciously stalker-like file labeled after the hero of this story and to the right folder, which contained several illegally downloaded episodes of the original Star Trek. In his kitchen, Weasel grabbed a root beer. He paused, hand still halfway in the refrigerator, as he wondered what Wade Wilson was doing right then.
Unknownst to him, Wade was getting undressed in Nate Dayspring’s house. But not by Nate, like Wade secretly wished.
“Hey waitaminute, where did Nate go?” Wade asked aloud, pulling down his blood-covered pants.
The door opened and a pair of clean pants shortly followed by a clean shirt were roughly thrown through the door, soundly hitting Wade in the face. Wade cursed at the wordiness of this chapter, and reluctantly pulled on the pants.
“Didja iron these yourself?” asked Wade, “What, are you some kinda nerd or somethin’? You don’t keep a calculator on you, do you?”
From the other room, Nate called, “Says the guy who spends his days watching Battlestar Galactica and the Golden Girls.”
Wade pulled on the shirt as he looked around the room. It was rather plain, with a mattress (but no bed), a duffle bag, a map of North America and what looked like a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
“42!” he cried, “That was the last mark I got in History! That must mean…”
“Please don’t finish that sentence,” said Nate, coming into the room all dressed.
“This your pad? Where’s the parents? Oh no wait, they’re busy savin’ humanity and stuff, except your mum who’s only a clone of a mutant that is either evil, all powerful, or dead.”
Nate raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask Wade to shut up, as Wade suspected he would do since that was what everybody did, he “I know, I know, you never knew your father. All that Finding Nemo exposition/reference stuff from the last chapter… So you live here all alone?”
“Yeah,” said Nate, looking away from Wade, but not being able to stop his glowy eye from flashing, “But come on, you said you had to go home.”
“Let’s try this… You live at 52 Yellowbrick Road, right? Bodyslide by two.”
“How did you…?”
They disappeared from Nate’s room and appeared in front of Wade’s place.
“Hey, you never said you could teleport.”
“Oops, must have slipped my mind,” said Nate, the sarcasm dripping from his words.
Wade looked at the kid beside him, and grinned.
“There you go! Stop being so grim and gloomy all the time. As if you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders.”
Nate pushed him toward the door as he said, “What if I do?”
“Stop answering questions with questions!”
“Am I doing that?”
Wade opened his own front door and sniffed in a highly dramatazized, sarcastic way.
“You’re so mean.”
He went inside and closed the door behind him, leaving Nate on the porch.
“Why thank you.”
Wade peeked through a gap in the curtains of the door’s window. He watched as Nate stood there, before he left, hands in pockets, to walk home.
“Wade, that you? You’re late.”
“Sorry, Pa, hope you saved me some HB sauce.”