Just as he does anywhere between five and seven times a week, Wade strutted his stuff over to the nearest 7-Eleven, plastic reusable cup in hand, ready to face some stoned ass college dropout that doesn't know the price of the goddamn products that they sell. Wade has lost count of the number of times he's had to try and convince the cashier that the refills are a mellow 69¢ and not a whopping $1.49.
This time though, when he rounded the corner, the glass doors of the... horrifyingly filthy convenience store coming into view, he nearly dropped his beloved cup on the piss-soaked pavement. He couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing.
The cashier was gorgeous.
From the deep-set frown on his face to the gleaming metal prosthetic arm that was even more noticeable against the stark white hue of his t-shirt, he was everything Wade's ever wanted and more. He must be an army veteran, considering the scars on his face and neck that no doubt cover the expanse of his rock hard body, and the fact that you can tell a lot about a man by his haircut. And, well, the cashier had what Wade thought looked like marbley-black and grey waves that he wouldn't mind having crash over him and drown him.
"Hey, do you have some change you could spare, or are you just going to stand there ogling that wrinkled fucking goose at the cash register?" Asked the homeless man sitting in a ratty old Spongebob Squarepants beach chair with even rattier blankets piled atop his lap to keep him warm in the... seventy-two degree weather they're having.
Shaking his head and slapping it a few times for good measure, Wade turned to face the lowlife. "You better watch what you say, jackass, cause that's my future husband you're talking about." Before the old haggard man could bite back, Wade headed inside, making sure that his boots squeaked loudly against the unwashed tile so that the hot piece of ass at the register would look up at him as he sauntered over to to slurpee machine.
"Jesus christ," the man muttered lowly under his breath, sticking a finger in his ear and rubbing it around as he clenched his eyes shut. Guess Wade's boots were just a little bit too squeaky for Mr. tall, tan and bionic's liking. He glanced over his shoulder only to see that the man was already glaring after him. More than likely staring at his ass. Good, Wade thought to himself, Mr. Sexy is already putty in my hands.
He was quick to fill up his cup to the very top with cherry, practically having to give the lid a goddamn blowjob when it began to erupt like a volcano. When he was done, his hands were sticky and covered in the juices of his favoritist thing in the entire world aside from buttsex.
Before heading over to the cash register, he grabbed some knockoff brand Hostess cupcakes and some Trolli gummy worms. He set all the crap atop the counter, a wide smirk spread across his scarred up face. "So, what's the damage, big boy?"
The man, who's name tag said 'Nate', blinked very slowly before scanning the three items. "That'll be $4.99, Red," he said, voice a deep, low rumble that sent Wade's mind straight to the gutter. The man must've been referring to his red and black leather jacket he wore while out on a kill. God, it's just so cute how Nathanial's already so madly in love with him...
"Aw, he's already come up with a nickname for us..." Wade cooed as he slid a fiver across the counter. Nate let out a low growl deep in the back of his throat and punched some buttons on the screen in front of him before setting the receipt and a penny in the palm of Wade's hand. Which in turn caused the latter to close his hand around Nate's and hold still for a moment until it was being slowly wiggled free from his firm grasp.
"You talking to me or what?"
"Nope, just to the voices in my head, Nathanial."
"It's Nate—"
"Anyways, Natey, you free after work or do you just wanna, y'know, take this into the back room-"
"Are you propositioning me?"
"Depends..." Wade smirked, "Are you saying yes?"
"No." Nate grumbled with no real heat behind the words.
"Dammit. Guess we'll just have to try again next time then."
"Still talking to those voices, huh?" Nate asked with a raised brow, seeming genuinely curious. God, it's like every person Wade flirts with instantly falls madly in love with him... Though it does seem like the guy isn't too big a fan of shacking up while at work. Maybe he wants to buy Wade dinner before splitting him in half? Guess there's a first time for everything.
"You bet your sweet ass I am, Nathanial,"
The corner of Nate's mouth twitched slightly, almost as though he were about to smile, but managed to bite the side of his cheek in time to suppress it. "I'm not gonna bother correcting you again because I know you're just gonna come up with another ridiculous nickname, so have a nice... day, Red."
"Day... right. It's not like it's one in the morning or anything," Wade mumbled, more to himself than Nate. "You have a nice day too, Natey. I'll see you in your dreams. And in mine. And probably again tomorrow at this time because I have a really bad sugar addiction."
He then grabbed all his junk off the counter and headed out the door, not missing the quiet "shit," Nate had breathed out.
"You don't even have to ask this time, buddy!" Wade said to the homeless man sitting outside the building as he tossed his change toward him.
The penny landed atop the man's blanket covered lap. His wrinkled face managed to scrunch up even more as he picked up the coin and inspected it. "The fuck is this?" He asked, looking offended as all hell.
"It's what you oh-so rudely asked me for earlier—" before Wade could even finish his sentence, the coin was being launched at him; hitting him square in the face.
The act of blatant disrespect outraged him, but he clenched his hands into fists by his sides and miraculously managed to hold off on ripping the homeless piece of shit to shreds.
Realizing that he should keep anything and everything given to him by his future husband, Wade slowly bent over to pick up the fallen penny. One good reason to not beat the crap out of the scum of the earth stood before him is the fact that he'd more than likely end up spilling his slurpee. And his off-brand Hostess cupcakes could very well end up being crushed to smithereens; their crumbs mixing with the puddle of piss on the pavement and making it look like someone went number one and number two in the same spot. The mental image would've had him laughing so hard he'd have to change his clothes, if not for the fact that it involved his favorite cheap, off-brand snack cakes being just a little bit destroyed.
Oh, and he didn't want to be tasked with having to dump not one, but two bodies in the same night. Which, by the way, is the absolute worst thing about being a mercenary. They make the... er, lifestyle seem so goddamn easy in movies. You know, the usual 'break into wherever your victim resides, shoot them in the head and skedaddle'. But guess what, kids, that's not how shit works in the real, non-cinematic world. You have to investigate and surveil your target for sometimes days ahead of the planned death-date (as Wade liked to refer to the day he kills his victim's on), and you have to hack into their cell phone, computer, bank account, maybe follow them around for a few days, learn their schedule, find a discreet way to dump the body, or if they need to be alive for the particular job you were hired for; deliver their unconscious and severely damaged body to the person who's paying you.
So yeah, Wade was rightfully exhausted and wanted nothing more than to head home and take a much needed shower, rather than break some sack of dick in half.
"You're lucky I'm exhausted from slicing some other motherfucker in half and dumping the body a couple of hours ago, jackass, otherwise you'd already be nothing but a pile of freshly cut meat marinating in a puddle of cancerous piss." He didn't miss the audible gulp the homeless man emitted, or the way he attempted to covertly eye the amber colored liquid on the pavement just outside the store where Wade had just met the love of his life. There were very few doubts in his mind that Mr. Homeless and Douchey had been the one who'd urinated in front of the fine establishment we call 7-Eleven.
"Oh, and word of advice, buddy," Wade took a step closer to the surprisingly short man standing a mere four and a half feet away from him. "Don't shit where you eat. Like, okay, I know you pissed where you sleep– but it's basically the same thing."
The man did not respond in any way other than blinking and gawking at Wade. He has that affect on a lot of people.
Feeling as though he'd gotten his point across, Wade slipped his new lucky penny into the small and useless pocket on the front of his jeans and made his grand exit. Which was really just him brushing past the old man and jostling him the slightest bit.
He wouldn't let their encounter ruin his good mood at having met the love of his life inside of the fine establishment he'd walked away from mere moments ago. He'd carry the memory of Nathanial until morning, as well as for the rest of his life.