Nate and Wade have a serious talk about cohabitation, and Wade starts thinking about the crystal ball he found.

warnings: flaaaaangst. au (Earth-339) with 616 references. background het. talk of mental illness. spoilers for Messiah War. language: pg-13 (primetime tv plus f***, s***, and g**damn).

pairing: Nate/Wade, with a teensy side of Laura/Julian.

timeline: late April 2012.

disclaimer: marvel owns Cable & Deadpool, disney owns marvel.

notes: 1) i really can't help the running gag about Reed trying to blow up the world. i just can't. 2) Julian shouldn't tease about kidnappings. he obviously doesn't know what happens to people who kidnap Hope. 3) Laura is made of a few different varieties of awesome. as for the general way she's acting here, she's been at the X-Mansion a few years now and can probably fake being normal pretty well when she has to (like Cameron from The Sarah Conner Chronicles). 4) Avenue Q is win.

Belong

"No."

Wade scowls and leans in his chair to peer out the window of the restaurant for the millionth time. A few hundred feet away, Julian is trying to look cool while pushing Hope on a swing and talking to Laura (Wade is pretty sure it's a plot by Hope to Get Them Together, because she's turned into an evil little matchmaker since Christmas). "And why the hell not?" he asks.

Nate calmly drinks his iced tea. "Because Hope is barely eight years old and needs specialized education in a safe, stable environment."

"Shit, drop her with the Fantastikids every day; the telepathic brat'll teach her everything she needs to know about life, the universe, and everything. As an added bonus, if she survives his dad's ongoing attempts to destroy the world—"

"Reed has never actively attempted to destroy the world," Nate corrects.

"—then we know she'll be just fine when Armageddon hits."

"Shall we turn the question around?"

Wade grimaces. "Let's not."

But Nate is unrelenting. "She wants you to live with us. She is going to stay at the X-Mansion, where the X-Men can protect her."

"That statement shows a fundamental lack of faith in the Avengers that I find very disheartening, Nate."

"The Avengers give your apartment a wide berth."

He huffs. "Oh, like they have any room to talk… I only blew up a few sort-of-important buildings, and only when there was a good reason for it, like a Skrull invasion or Normie's goon squad trying to kill me. They've done worse as fricking collateral. Hell, that Speed kid blows shit up on purpose because it's fun. I'm not denying that it's fun to blow shit up, but it's kinda irresponsible, and the fun falls a little flat when people keep making you pay damages."

"I'm waiting to hear a good counter-argument."

"Me 'n the girls can protect her just fine, and the Avengers ain't the only ones who 'give my place a wide berth,' as you so eloquently put it."

"You're being unreasonable."

"I like my apartment. It's spacious and full of my cool stuff, and completely off-limits to people who hate me."

"Oh, Wade," Nate sighs, and shakes his head.

"Don't you fucking shake your head and sigh at me!" Wade growls, looking out the window again. "Like I'm just some fucking delusional little high school kid throwing a fucking PMS tantrum, just because maybe I don't feel like willingly living in a place where I'll be surrounded by people who'd just as soon see me wiped off the face of the planet. Like this is some stupid emotional callback to fucking Christmas and fucking overreactionary almost-suicide-attempts. Fuck you, Nate. Fuck you."

"You're exaggerating."

He slaps a hand down on the table, making the ice cubes in Nate's glass jump. "I'm not, and you goddamn well know it. They can keep it quiet as long as they only have to see me once a month, tops—they start seeing me every day and she's gonna get to hear a very comprehensive list of my character flaws. You think she wants or needs that?"

Nate makes a sad face, like he wants to apologize.

"Don't say it," Wade whispers.

"Okay," Nate says, but reaches out and takes his hand. "But we talked about this at Christmas. Do you remember? In my room, after the mistletoe?"

He does; he tightens his fingers around Nate's. "I remember."

"She's so tired of saying goodbye to you, Wade. Just…just give it a try, just for the weekend. Maybe they'll surprise you."

The words lodge a bitter lump in Wade's throat. "That's the thing, Nate—people like them never surprise me."

He hears Nate swallow thickly. "I…"

"Don't," he says again. "Please."

But Nate has apparently decided to be stubborn, because he reaches over to take Wade's other hand. "Wade, look at me."

He rolls his eyes, but eventually obeys. "What?"

"Hope deserves at least one proper parent, and you are, quite frankly, embarrassingly good at the job. I've tried. For eight years, I've tried. I've been pretty piss-poor at it."

Wade scowls. "Yeah, well…why the fuck can't I play daddy from the comfort of my hard-earned independence? It's been more than six months, she's gotten to see plays and musicals and movies, she got to meet half the super-hero community, she's made a ton of friends—even with my brain springing more leaks than a rowboat made of colanders. How the fuck is she better off in fucking posh suburbia?"

Nate just sits there silently for a while. "Children need stability, Wade," he finally says.

"Which is it?" Wade snaps. "Does she need me, or does she need stability? Because the two don't really go together. I'm kind of the opposite of stability, especially with my amazing Swiss-cheese memory." He tries to pull his hands away, but Nate's grasp is unyielding.

"Please, just try it," Nate presses, and his expression is as close as it ever gets to a pout. "Just for the weekend. Come home with us, and if you really can't stand it, I'll drop the subject."

Wade hesitates. He looks out the window again to see Hope and Laura riding the merry-go-round while Julian gives it the occasional push. "And how exactly do you think I'll react if I suddenly find myself surrounded by strangers without knowing how I got there? Didn't think of that, did you?"

When Nate's hands slip away, it's all the answer Wade needs.

"Nope, didn't think so," he mutters. "Look…it's a nice little fairytale, Nate, but I can't do it right now. Winky the One-Eyed Jerkface would literally have my head on a platter if I spaced out and somehow decided it would be cool to shoot an X-Dweeb. Unless this gets fixed—"

"Until," Nate insists with a catch in his voice.

"Your goddamn optimism is really fucking depressing," Wade grumbles. "Fine. Until this gets fixed, I can't live with people I wouldn't immediately recognize."

"I'll find a way."

And Nate's got that scary-determined tone that he gets sometimes, the one that usually shows up right before he runs off to get killed…and Wade thinks guiltily of that little future-tech snow globe thingy again, the one Hope and Laura and Weasel said could answer questions.

"Wade?"

"Hm?" He realizes he must've been quiet too long. Outside the window, Hope is petting a dog while its owner talks to Laura and Julian. "Oh. Just thinking. I'm doing pretty good today; only had one skip this morning, and it was just fifteen minutes. Maybe it'll fix itself, and you won't have to do anything stupid and drastic. And before you even start, don't make me any promises. Not about this. You'd just end up doing something stupid and drastic to keep your dumb promises. Goddamn lemming."

"What if I promised not to do anything stupid and drastic, hmm?" Nate teases. "Then I couldn't possibly do something stupid and drastic to keep it."

"Smartass. Narrative convention says that the moment you make a promise like that, something is doomed to happen that'll make you go back on it. So far, you've done a pretty good job of never breaking your promises to me—"

"Two for two isn't exactly—"

"—and I don't want you to start," Wade finishes loudly, ignoring the interruption.

Nate leans over the table and kisses his cheek (some bitter single girl at a nearby table says, "Ugh, get a room…").

The door of the restaurant opens, and Hope and her babysitters come in.

Julian grabs Hope around the middle like a sack of meal and swings her over one shoulder. "We have something of yours. If ya want her back, leave a million bucks in a black suitcase under the third bench from the left."

"Yeah, right," Hope calls over his shoulder. "I'd eff-word you up, Julian. Now put me down, please."

"Oh, you'd 'eff-word me up'?" he asks, but sets her back down.

"She would," Laura says. "She could totally take you."

Hope stands on tiptoe to peer over the table at them. "Did you talk about it?"

She knew what they were going to be talking about. How the hell is he supposed to say no with her standing there with those big green eyes, looking all cute and hopeful?

Wade covers his face with one hand and punches Nate in the arm with the other.

"We did talk about it," Nate says carefully. "But we decided that now's not a good time. Until Wade gets better, it's the same as babysitting—he doesn't want to accidentally hurt somebody at the mansion."

"Oh," she says, and she sounds like someone just canceled a trip to Disneyland. "Well…why can't we just live with Wade until he's better?"

He hears movement behind him.

"Because you have school, sweetie," Laura replies, picking Hope up. "I know it sucks, but everybody has to go to school. Even I had to go to school."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And some of the kids at the mansion only get to see their daddies once every few months, instead of once a week. Nicole and Claudette and Monet only get to see their daddy twice a year."

"…then I guess I'm really lucky."

He breathes a sigh of relief. Thank god for Laura.

"Wade?"

He looks up and forces a smile.

Hope is perched on Laura's hip, and Laura passes her over to Wade.

"We are so lucky we get to see each other so much," he tells her. "So. What're we doing next week?"

"Sandi's been wanting to see Avenue Q, and she says she thinks I'll like it."

"Muppets singing about sex, relationships, and society? What's not to like? Let's go take Sandi to see Avenue Q next week."

.End.