"Higher... he will just jump up there and reach them..."
Nodding absentmindedly, I tossed the guns in the air, shooting out some web to stick them on the ceiling.
"What about the swords?" the blind woman asked me.
"Oh, he will have to go on a treasure hunt to find those. If I am going to punish him for blowing his brains out when I'm standing in the room, I'm sure going to be creative about it..."
"Give him a kick in the balls for me when this is all over..." she muttered, before slowly leaving the room, making sure to avoid the kitchen, in which a somewhat dead Wade was laying in a pool of his own blood and brain matter.
"I promise..." I muttered to pretty much nobody, as I looked around the room, going over all the places I had hid his weapons in my head. When I was certain I was happy with my little hide-and-good-luck-finding-your-shit game, I left the room, just in time to hear the groan of pain coming from the kitchen.
He had just barely sat up and was holding his head that was still in the process of healing, covering his hands in more blood. He let out a small chuckle as I approached. "That was fun while it lasted..."
I plopped down in front of him, trying to keep my eyes away from the remains on the floor. "I hope you're in pain..."
"Nah, been through far worse."
"Aw, shucks."
"Terribly sorry to disappoint you, spider baby..."
We remained silent for a few moments, with Wade keeping his head in his hands even after I knew he had completely healed.
"My mask's destroyed..."
"I don't really care-"
"Come on, Spidey. How will we properly do the whole "I'm so ashamed I can't even look at you" bit with me ACTUALLY being unable to look at you? Don't want you throwing up your aunt's dinner..."
Taking a good look at him was enough to see he was holding the remnants of his mask with his fingers, stretching them over his skin.
I thought I wouldn't mention the fact that I could very well see his scared neck and most of the top of his-thankfully, intact- head.
Why did I still care about sparing his feelings after everything?!
It was almost as I was watching myself from afar, as I quickly left a kitchen and returned with a new mask, only to toss it at him and look away, before he allowed me to look again.
Much to my surprise, he still refused to look at me...
"Fuck, you have a lot of cleaning to do..." I said, pushing myself to look at the mess on the floor and wall.
"Yeah..." was his simple answer.
"That's it...?" I raised an eyebrow, fixing my eyes on the red and black mask. "No snarky comments, witty remarks, tasteless sex jokes?"
"Not this time..." he said in a dramatic tone, shrugging.
"Why is that...?"
"Well for one... this is the first time this writer has written something with me in it, so she's not used to me yet... And well, with my brain regrowing and all, it seems my conscience decided to turn up and say 'hi'..."
I remained silent, staring at him, waiting for some kind of explanation- hopefully about the 'conscience' bit.
"I know how you feel about me killing myself when you're around..."
Making a mental note to put that in the list of things I would hear only from Deadpool, I walked over the bloody mess, to offer him a hand.
He stared at it for a few moments, like a dog that just met a stranger. "You made all my weapons disappear again, didn't you?" he sighed heavily.
"You bet."
"Zoinks...!" he exclaimed loudly, before taking my hand and letting me pull him up. "Where are we going?"
"To the place where all the magic happens..." I muttered, pulling him softly in his bedroom.
As I closed the door behind me, he jumped on the bed, pushing something under it and laying seductively for me.
"Paint me like one of your French girls... Also, I'm batting my eyelashes at you, but you can't see it."
I sat at the end of the bed, giving him a tired half-smile. "First of all... I don't mind you killing yourself when I'm around, I mind it 24/7."
"Overly-attached spidey..."
"...Especially in cases such as these..." I raised an eyebrow, ignoring his comment.
"This is the part where I struggle to change the subject-"
"Which means that it's my part to make sure to bring it back and discuss it..."
With a sigh, he sat up, resting his arms on his knees, lowering his head.
Truth be told... I knew exactly what he was going to say. I had heard it so many times before...
He laid back on the bed with a groan. "How do I keep screwing this up?!"
By 'this', of course, he meant his very disfunctional relationship with Wolverine.
They had somehow gotten together very suddenly- Wade had announced it to me out of the blue a few months ago.
It was a relationship consisted of yelling, unsolvable issues, complete miscommunication, angry sex and me mentally stabbing Logan everytime Wade mentioned him, as I knew it would always be in a bad context.
Oh and of course- Wade occasionally shooting himself in various places of his body, depending on how bad the fight was each time.
"I've said it before, I'll say it again- this whole thing was a screw-up from the very beginning..."
I remained silent, going over ways to permanently kill Wolverine in my head, as I waited for him to defend his horrible relationship with colorful words and probably a few sex jokes.
"Spidey intensifies..."
His voice was a whisper- his face mere inches away from mine. I let out a sound, keeping my balance at the very last moment, managing not to fall off the edge of the bed.
"What'cha thinking?" he asked me, head tilted and resting on his palms.
"I'm mentally killing your boyfriend."
"Don't!" he cheerfully said, putting his hands on my waist and pulling me forward- before I knew it, I ended up lying on top of him.
"Wade, we seriously need to-"
"No, we don't."
"You can't-"
"But I will!"
"Listen-"
"- to my heart when you're calling for me?"
"Wilson!"
"I'M SORRY, WILSON!" he yelled dramatically.
"Really...? 'Cast Away' reference?" I sighed.
"I could have done better, couldn't I? I'm so embarassed...!" he announced in a similar dramatic tone.
Getting off of him, I fell by his side with a smile.
"How are you killing yourself one moment and then the next you're just being silly again?"
"Well... for starters, hi, I don't know if we've met, I'm Wade Wilson. Secondly... white and yellow were positively shrieking inside my head, they stopped when I blew my brains out and now... they're just muttering in the back. They're always quiet when you're around..."
The only response I could master was a nod, as I lay next to him, staring at the ceiling that desperately needed a paint-job. Our bodies were just barely touching; the scent of blood was still in the air and we could both hear Blind Al cursing from somewhere in the house and yet something was telling me this moment was the most peaceful Wade had been for quite some time.
"We really need to clean up... Blind Al might slip and fall in the kitchen with all that blood..." I heard myself saying.
"Fine, you absolute moodkiller. Which reminds me... I'm going to get up and the sheets will be covered in blood, won't they?" he complained.
"Seeing as how you stayed in the same suit you were wearing when you shot yourself, there is a big chance of that, yes..."
"Shit!"
"Wade?" I lowered my voice.
"Spider baby?" he asked, trying to mimic my tone.
"What did you fight about this time?" I turned my eyes on him.
He remained silent, staring at me for some time. "I didn't deny something..." he stated simply.
"Wade... I know this might seem like the world's best explanation but you're going to have to try a little harder than that..." I turned on my side, folding my arms on my chest, as I stared at the masked mercenary.
"That's the best I can do. That's the only part I can actually explain..." he threw his arms in the air.
Rolling my eyes, I jumped off the bed. "Keep your secrets, Wade. Keep thinking they will remain secrets..."
His cracked voice, calling out my name, stopped me in front of the door, as I turned around to look at him. "What is it, Wade?"
He remained silent, hanging his head on his chest, as my heartbeat was getting louder.
"Will you paint me like one of your French girls after all?"
I stormed out of the bedroom, heading to the closet Blind Al everything that was necessary for housework.
I could hear his laughter for a few moments, before it was abruptly cut. A few moments of complete silence in the whole house, before hearing him yell- "MOTHERFUCKER!"
I assumed he found his guns.
I caught myself smiling at the huge green eyes staring at me, as the southern belle was trying to find her way into my mind.
"Damn, psychics are fucking lucky..." the girl muttered, her eyes still fixed in mine.
I placed my drink on the table softly. "I know. I could get you in serious trouble for catching you out of school this late at night-"
"It's fine. I have a chaperone and he is a teacher!" she announced confidently.
"When did we decide I'm your chaperone, Anne Marie?"
"Just now!" she batted her eyelashes at me.
"What do you want, kid?" I sighed, accepting my defeat, as I pulled the glass closer to me once again. "Straight to the point, please!" I said, staring at her above my glass, as she paused for a moment, looking as if she wanted to re-collect her thoughts, or maybe find the right thing to say.
She narrowed her eyes. "Fine. I- Well... We heard you and Deadpool today."
"Yeah, we weren't exactly subtle, were we?" I snorted.
"You... never are!" she said with an apologetic smile. "I'm not a gossiper, Logan, I'm not here to hear details about your relationship with him... I just want to make sure you're alright... You look-"
She stopped, looking once again for the right word. "Like shit?" I offered.
"... I was going for miserable. What kind of language is that around your own student?!"
"You mean the student that's essentially having a drink with me in a bar teachers usually spend their nights off, risking to put the both of us in trouble, calling me by my first name and quite openly asking me about my relationship?"
Damn, this girl had a talent of making people smile.
She batted her eyelashes at me once again, as she started fishing for the cherries in her drink.
The smell of this disturbingly red thing was hurting my nose...
"There's not much to say, Annie... We just got in another fight. Regular Tuesday for the two of us..."
I didn't have to look at her to sense the concern in her eyes.
"Look... If he makes you happy, then please, tell me right now, I will shut the fuck up and leave you alone, I promise." she said, trying to meet my gaze.
The silence that fell between us for the next few minutes was too defeaning for the bar's music to cover up.
"You know what Wade and I have in common?" I heard myself saying.
"Special sense of humor in different ways?" she offered with a smile.
I frowned at her before responding. "Healing factor."
She remained silent, waiting for me to explain my rather obvious statement- she knows me too well.
Poor thing.
"He is quirky and makes me laugh... I am strong enough to hold him down when something goes wrong. We've both seen some shit in our lives... especially him. We could essentially be two different sides of the same coin... we could understand each other- at least up to a point. I mean... we're still talking about Wade here..."
I stared at my drink as if I hoped it would give me all the answers.
"But most importantly... we're both living weapons with no definite lifespan."
"I... don't see how that last part should matter that much..." she tilted her head.
"And yet, it was what pushed us into this. Unless something changes... we will both most likely go through life watching people go while we are staying back... It would make sense if we sort of... shared that blessing, curse, nowadays just plain fact."
"But you still have to be somewhat compatible to make a relationship work..." she said with a soft smile, thankfully pushing the both of us away from the realization of how sad and dark that last sentence was.
"Exactly. I care for Wade. I can go as far as saying that I love him, but... fuck, we're awful for each other."
We both chuckled as she signalled the waitress, who approached our table with a smile. Before I knew it, I was frigtheningly staring at the matching red drinks in martini glasses on our table.
"How did you say this was called...?" I said, counting the cherries inside the martini glass- turns out they were three.
"Cherry Vanilla Love."
I took a sip of Anne Marie's favorite drink. "What's in this...?"
"Cherry Pie Liqueur and Vanilla Vodka" she seemed far too amused.
"It's disgusting..."
"I'll pretend I believe you!" she said cheerfully.
Playing with the cherries in my drink, I felt my smile fade away as she spoke again. "So... you love Deadpool but... not the way you should?"
"We both convinced ourselves that we are our only chance at..."
"Happiness...?"
"I don't even know, Annie..." I muttered.
I didn't know how to continue this conversation. Hell... I didn't want to continue it a moment longer.
"Sadly... people are more than their obvious similarities. Perhaps it would be better if you two were there to witness each other's happiness... instead of trying to force it on yourselves."
She took my hand in hers with a smile and we were simply left staring at each other for some time.
"I feel all warm and fuzzy inside..." I whispered, staring at her with widened eyes.
We were laughing like idiots once again.
"What happened between you too?" she was the first to speak.
I stared at my drink for a few moments, before raising my eyes on her again. "I am convinced he is in love with Spiderman- I called him out on it."
"And... how did he react?" she was looking at me with big eyes.
"He didn't deny it... And you know what the worst part really was?"
There goes that defeaning silence again.
"I didn't particularly care..."
~/~
Wait... isn't it over yet?
I thought you meant to make this a two-part...
Oh... now you want my side of the story.
Why?!
I don't know my side of the story!
Sure my relationship with ol' Howlie is not the best, but when you're ugly inside and out, you're not exactly picky.
Not to mention... he was right about what it was that brought us together.
Well, that and that rock hard ass of his...
I sort of expected that night would go like most others- I would somehow piss him off, we would throw things at each other, the whole school would pretend not to know what's going on, we would eventually end up having angry sex on the couch... But he decided to bring Spidey into this.
Now you might ask... "Wade, why didn't you just tell him you don't have feelings for Spidey?!"
Yeah, don't ask, your voice sounds a little weird.
But in all honesty... I didn't answer because I didn't know the answer.
Do I have feelings for Spidey...?
If I say 'no' I would be lying.
If I say 'yes', I'll go down a road I can't come out off and that will probably end with blood and tears.
Maybe even other stuff that are nowhere near as fun.
"Wade?"
He stares at me silently, as I put on my brightest smile, hoping it will excuse the fact that I broke in his apartment once again, only to climb in his bed and sit beside him.
Just to be near him.
What...? He calms the voices down. White and yellow are a faint whisper in the nights when I sneak in his apartment to sleep near him.
He looks too cute when he sleeps, not even they want to disturb that...
Not to mention more people than usual are out to get him lately and I want to make sure he's safe.
No homo.
Oh, he probably can't see the Colgate advertisement with the mask on.
Foiled again.
He gifts me with a small smile, as he snuggles near me, simply going back to sleep. I lay down, making sure my arm is just barely touching his.
"When I wake up, I'm going to pull off the mask." he mutters.
"No, you won't!"
"No... I won't. Will you make me wheat cakes in the morning?"
"Ew."
"Good..." he smiles softly, sensing the approval behind my disgust as he turns my arm into his personal teddy bear.
Alright, maybe a little homo.
Well... now for the right tune to guarantee some seriously fucked up dreams.
"Soft spider, warm spider, little ball of-"
"Web...?" he offers as he senses my hesitation.
"Happy spider, sleepy spider...?"
"Itchy, sweaty spandex...?"
"I've taught you so well..." I can almost feel the waterworks coming up.
My baby spider grew up.
Don't I have feelings for Spidey?