||[Oct. 25th, 2006|10:32 am]
Cable x Deadpool
So I bring you guys three things: an answer to the 'What does ____ love about ____' meme that kind of got out of hand (I am entirely incapable of doing these things as they're supposed to be done), plus a double-drabble and a drabble to make sure kirke_novak doesn't have to cry with the angst all the time.
FREAK ON LITHIUM
Sometimes Wade likes to watch romance movies. Just grab a big bucket 'o' popcorn, turn on the television and prepare for a big freakin' laugh riot. Like this flick, a pointless piece of crap named Serendipity that's just dripping with factual inaccuracies.
See, all that love-at-first-sight crap doesn't take. You don't just look someone in the eye and go, 'Hey, you're kinda hot, let's build ourselves a little love nest.' Never takes. Ever.
Even Bea took a month full of Golden Girls reruns and no sleep to take, and she's like Woman Incarnate. You don't get more Woman than Bea.
Lasts longer that way.
When he thinks about it - gettin' maudlin, gettin' ridiculous now - the whole 'love' spiel usually takes off right around the time someone looks at you like you're not the worst freaking murdering travesty of a thing they've ever seen. That look, y'know, all I-can-see-you-and-I-don't-mind, usually doesn't appear at the first date. Usually there's a lot more screaming and crying first.
Possibly punching if he's lucky.
Then day after horrible freaking day passes and they're still not gone, they still call you in the middle of the night and tell you to go come hurt something for them. And because you're that kind've idiot, you show up, you maim the bad guy (they never like you offing 'em) and you hopefully get back home in time for the next episode of Battlestar Galactica (Starbuck's kinda hot, but the Prez takes the cake. Rowwwr. Few more years, she'll be a real contender). Puppy-love stage. When it's all still fun and fighting.
And then's the big one. You go 'splat' all over the pavement in front've 'em, and they pick you right up and point you in the right direction. That's when it hits you so bad it gets painful. Sometimes (Vanessa) they just don't have it in 'em to push too long, 'cause they need pushing themselves. Sometimes (Terry) you come crawling for your next sympathy hit and they kick you to the curb.
Don't happen often that someone sticks around.
Hypothetically. You know. There's been a lot of chicks (and who wouldn't, with his ass) but only one Terry and one Vanessa, and that's where the line ends. Right there.
Nobody ever stuck around. Nobody.
Maybe there's a tiny bit of something inside of him that says that he's wrong, but recent events have kind've proved that that isn't necessarily a good thing anyway. Gotta keep your independence, y'know. (Gotta stay angry, gotta keep going, gotta make up for the sting)
Who? Well, that don't matter, does it? It's not. Now. Not. Never.
And tiny parts don't matter. Just the big part of him, the one clutchin' the gun and whistling a cheerful tune as it ponders pretty, pretty bullets flashing in the darkness. Not the small part (the part of him that says 'I don't know') that makes him hum 'Lithium' in between bars and whispers bullshit to him at night about all the things he could've been had he let him (which is stupid 'cause he'd never let anybody).
Hell, he'll even deny it if they ever ask him about it. Not that they will, 'cause there's nothing to ask about. Really. Wade Wilson's got no big girly feelings on the inside.
Never was someone who gave a crap about him long enough to really push it. Never was someone who made him believe he could be something for longer than a minute. Never was someone who made him so angry when they pushed it that he couldn't cope. That's all shit. Like the freaking romance movies. Lies and subterfuge.
Nah, the truth is, in this life, you never get your own rock to lean on. No matter how nice it feels, there's always a bomb hidden underneath, and if you can't defuse it you're gonna have to take it out.
Yeah, best thing you can count on at the end of the day is just this one bullet.
THE END OF THE WORLD PT. 1
It's been a while now. That much is pretty much a tangible thing in the air at this point.
"Uh," says Wade.
Not really used to having trouble finding words.
"Hey," says Nate, and his voice is dark and rumbling.
"Yeah. Hey. Uh. This thing," he gestures at the sky, "We need to take it out, right?"
"That would be the idea, yes."
"Okay," he says, and looks out into the hills, covered in unnatural light with explosions beating tiny patterns into the landscape. "This is gonna be a lot of work."
It's quiet again. Wade rubs the back of his neck.
"Uh," he says again. "Wanna, I dunno, grab some slush puppies when this is over? We can talk about how I hate your guts and you can tell me how much you hate my guts, you can bring your big lance-thingie, it'll be just like old times, right?"
Nate just smiles at him.
"Okay," he says. "Let's go."
Tensions high, but their thing is still there and it's calm on the inside.. old times. Stupidly comforting in its way.
If Wade said he didn't know if it was a good thing, maybe, just maybe, he'd be lying.
THE END OF THE WORLD PT. 2
It's the end of the world until something red-and-black comes crashing down from the sky onto the ground with an unearthly noise, quickly fading into nothing.
In a little charred heap lies what once may have been designated as Wade Wilson. Pathetic and curled up into a ball, it seems like a shadow of the person it once was - a wrecked thing.
Nathan stares quietly over the hill. He's alone.
He reaches down and lifts Wade off the ground like he's just a sheet of paper, dangerous but easily broken and passive like anything.
Carries him home.