|Fic: Where You Need Me
||[Sep. 23rd, 2010|11:22 am]
Cable x Deadpool
Title: Where You Need Me
Pairing: Nathan Christopher Charles Soldier X G.I. Jesus Priscilla Dayspring Askani’son (a.k.a Cable)/Wade Wilson (a.k.a Deadpool); male/male pairing
Rating: PG-13 for violence and schmoopiness
Fandom: Deadpool/Marvel/Cable & Deadpool
Summary: Thank you. I’m proud of you. I love you. Goodbye.
Warnings: A mix of canon writing and my own additions. Also: no sex this time around.
Acknowledgements: I hereby acknowledge merianmoriarty as made of win! Thank you for the beta, darlin’!
Disclaimer: I do not own Deadpool, Cable, or any other Marvel character mentioned herein; they are not mine. They are the property of their creators, Liefeld/Nicieza/Marvel. I am making no money off of this fanfiction.
So, he hadn’t made it to Providence in time to fight against the Hecatomb. That was fine; Rogue had it in hand A-OK – or, rather, had it in her head. She caught it, contained it, everything was fine… Nate was fine.
That was great.
Wade had made it in time to get Irene away from Sabretooth. God, it felt righteous to stand here shooting pieces off of the crazy feral. Shoot-shoot-shoot-shoot until he can’t shoot no more. Sing and blather and all the usual Deadpool goodies while he tore apart a man he hated with the burning intensity of a thousand fiery suns.
He left off shooting; clicked the safeties back and forth a few times to make it sound like he was out of ammo.
“My tur—“ Sabretooth snarled through his bloody, grinning death mask of a mouth.
So, Wade shot him again.
As the barrage of bullets started up again, as bullet casings rained down around his ankles in a jingling cascade, Wade started speaking again.
“This is for Nessa,” he said. “Lots and lots of these are for Nessa. Sure, she didn’t give a flying fig about me anymore, but she didn’t deserve to die that way. And these are for what you did to me. Just ‘cause I was joking about the stag film thing doesn’t mean I didn’t feel what you were up to back there – literally! And these are for Gareb and these are for what you were gonna do to Irene, ‘cause you’re a sick bastard, Vickie. A real sick bastard. I know what you do to women. I know what you were gonna do to her. Fucker. And all the rest of this is for givin’ Nate one more headache t’ worry about on what’s left of his island.”
He held the triggers down and emptied every last bullet he had into Sabretooth until, finally, the chik-chik-chik of empty guns sounded for real.
“Hey, look at that,” Wade taunted. “No mo’ buwwets.”
Blood pouring like waterfalls from his shattered wreck of a body, Sabretooth let out a glottal bellow of rage and staggered toward the mercenary.
The fight that followed was somewhat of a letdown to Deadpool. Because Sabretooth had been so badly puddinized by the bullet barrage, he was moving like an forty-years-old desiccated corpse. It was hardly any effort for Wade to avoid Sabretooth’s attempts to gut him. He managed to lodge a hunting knife in Vickie’s arm (eventually removed and thrown back at him) and slice his leg tendons apart by the time a familiar telekinetic glow enveloped the feral.
“Hello, Wade.” Never had two words sounded more— “Goodbye, Victor.”
Okay, four words.
As Sabretooth’s scream faded into the distance, Wade swiped the worst of the blood and gore from his swords while watching Nate float down to him.
“Where’d ya toss him?” Wade asked casually, and grinned at the smug smile that ripped across Nate’s face.
“Ummm…” Nate shielded his gaze from extraneous light and looked away. “That way.”
Meaning, Nate had launched Victor somewhere in the general direction of Australia. Knowing Nate, Wade suspected Vickie would have a fight or three with a few Great Whites and some other sea predators before the feral made it ashore. With as much blood as the sick bastard had been leaking, it was inevitable.
Wade re-sheathed the katana swords. “Okay, what now?”
“First things first.”
He really never expected the handshake offered to him. He’d expected something a little sappy, a little schmoopy; a hug, a kiss, an admonishment that he shouldn’t have come but Nate was glad that he had.
Instead… a handshake.
A gesture of respect.
Wade took hold of Nate’s hand. He clasped it firmly and shook; two firm pumps, up and down, feeling the strength of Nate’s warm hand against his own.
“Ahhhhh, you had me at ‘hello’ and you know—mmmph!”
There it was: the kiss he’d thought he’d get, though muffled as it was by the Deadpool mask.
And then, Nate was letting go of his hand to take hold of the mask, pulling it up and away. Wade gripped hard into Nate’s hair, holding the other man against him for the kiss that followed, trying not to feel desperate and trying not to feel like he knew what was coming because he knew Nate.
The kiss (hot, affectionate, desperate, perfect) ended, albeit reluctantly. Panting, gripping bruises into each other, Nathan and Wade held tight to each other and stood with their foreheads pressed together.
“I don’t want to let go,” Nathan eventually confessed, whispering.
“Me, neither,” Wade confessed right back, also whispering.
“But we have to.”
They continued to hold each other, sharing breath in their embrace.
“Sorry for everything?” Nathan murmured, flexing his right hand against the curve of Deadpool’s head to feel the shift of scarred, streaky skin against his palm and fingers.
“What?” Wade cupped his hand over the back of Nate’s neck and marveled at the heat of him.
“Domino said you told her to tell me ‘sorry for everything’… just in case,” Nathan said, and lifted his head so he could press a kiss to Wade’s forehead. He kissed down to Wade’s cheek, and then pressed their foreheads together again.
Wade swallowed hard. Lowering his arms, he wrapped them around Nate’s torso, splaying has hands against that broad, muscular back. God, but he wanted to drag Nate down to the ground; wanted to wrap his legs around this hips and pull the other man in and never let go.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Just in case. Wanted you t’ know…”
“I hated our divorce,” Wade said, admitting it and feeling hurt all over again. “I hated how we went from friends to enemies in no time flat. I hated disappointing you.”
“Shh. Shh, Wade. You didn’t,” Nathan murmured, and kissed Wade’s face again, because he needed to.
The mercenary laughed; a short, broken sound. “Heroes don’t lie, Nate.”
“Said I wasn’t a hero.”
“…Y’are to me, bastard. Not that I’ll ever admit it to anyone else.”
Nathan cupped Wade’s face in his hands and pulled him into another kiss, gratified when the other man kissed him back with vivid eagerness.
“Wish I didn’t still have work to do,” Nathan said, dark and reluctant when this kiss ended. “Wish I could chuck it all and take you away somewhere. Want to hide in the dark where no one can find us and make love to you.”
Wade shivered hard. “Yeah… but you know what I said when you dragged me in to play Angels & Devils shoulder-minis, with Dom playin’ the side of selfishness. Stand-up responsible is top of the line, with you.”
Nathan sighed and held Wade tighter against him.
“’Cause I know you, Nate,” Wade muttered, dropping his head to rest it against Nate’s chest. “You care too much to let something go when you think you can make it better. It’s part of why… I think the way I do about you. An’ I’d never judge you for choosin’ the other choice. I just don’t see you takin’ that choice.”
Nathan lifted his head; waited for Wade to lift his and their gazes met, blue to brown. He saw the understanding and acceptance in Wade’s gaze. It pleased him and saddened him all at once.
He took another kiss, and then another, and another. Took what he could get, while he could.
“We have to go,” he said, and finally let go of Wade.
It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.
“Yeah,” Wade agreed, his voice low and hollowed out with resignation.
The Deadpool mask went back on and, just like that, they were both ready for battle once again.
“So… what now?” Deadpool asked, waiting for orders.
“We bury the dead,” Nathan said, not forgetting for one instant the innocent people that had died on his island, “and prevent anyone from obtaining the secrets of the future.”
“You think people are comin’ after your goodies?” Wade asked, and reloaded his guns with ammo cartridges.
“No.” Nathan looked out at the shattered remains of the dead buildings around him; mountainous rubble in the gray light of pre-dawn. “I think they’re already here.”
He saw Wade’s muscles tense. Only because he knew the other man so well could he spot the movement beneath the red and black spandex. He read the movement of that tensing and knew, in an instant, that Wade would throw himself into the path of an oncoming attack to protect him.
Oddly, he found himself recounting a history from his past; from the world’s future. It was the story of a brave woman who’d chosen to give her own life so his life could be spared, because she considered him a “greater good” than herself.
He told the story so Wade would know that the same thing was happening again, because there were several “greater goods” he had to protect at the expense of his own life.
“You totally made up the word ‘mechagenics’, didn’t you?” Wade accused him once the tale was told. “So, you say someone’s after your archives, filled with all the knowledge of the future and you won’t let it happen even if it means killin’ yourself. I say: we take ‘em out before it gets to that!”
“Unfortunately, I can’t go on the hunt with you,” Nathan replied, and lifted into the air; tested the limits of his fading telekinesis. Enough strength left, but certain people could not be allowed to know that, so he let himself wibble and wobble dangerously. “I have to encrypt as much information from the data archives as I can…”
He let himself fall to the ground and found Wade there to brace him up. He leant his weight trustingly into the other man’s grip, smiling ever so slightly as Wade propped him up without fail.
“Whoa,” the mercenary said. “A little shaky on your pins, there, Nate.”
“The telepathy from the mummudrai Urizen is gone,” Nathan confessed. “The telekinesis is not far behind. As much as I want you with me – as much as I want to go with you, to hunt for the invaders – we’re more effective if we split up. Especially as the bad guys don’t know about my backup bypass. I don’t know if it’s been damaged. I need you to retrieve it and keep it safe. It’s the one ace we have up our sleeves right now.”
Wade, very fluent in Nate-ese, looked at the other man for a long moment or three. And, eventually, he asked, “Okay; where’s this backup?”
“My apartment,” Nate replied, and focused his teke on assembling a high-powered rifle from spare parts. “Trophy case number three, inside the souvenir maquette of Anton Krutch.”
“You sly dog,” Wade murmured, watching the other man build a gun with his mind. “Fine. I’ll go get it. You keep your eye peeled, ‘cause we both know somebody’s gonna follow you to the source.”
“Yeah.” Nathan looked over at his frienemy, because he knew that Wade hated him just as much as the damaged mercenary loved him. “Wade…”
Deadpool pointed a harsh finger at him. “Do not say thank you. Do not say you’re proud of me. Do not say goodbye.”
Okay. Fine. Be that way. “Your zipper’s down.”
The panicked little jolt of OMGWHUT as Wade looked down made Nathan want to laugh. He allowed himself a huge, smug smirk of a grin when Wade looked back at him.
“Made you look,” he taunted.
Wade snorted. Turning, he loped away into the increasing light of dawn, calling over his shoulder, “You’re so immature.”
Nathan watched him go until Wade was gone from sight, and then turned to his own task. As he climbed over the piles of rubble toward his necessary duty, he thought of Wade.
Thank you. I’m proud of you. I love you. Goodbye.
(More coming eventually!)