(Pink)
[White]
{Yellow}
(MCU)
Less than three hours after drifting asleep Samantha woke up with her heart in her throat. She'd swear she could feel her ribs popping back into place. Samantha was sure she couldn't breathe, would never be able to again. And then suddenly her lungs opened up, and air rushed back in.
"Back with me?" Deadpool's breath ghosted over the moist patch of skin on her collarbone.
"You bit me?" She was back in bed with Deadpool stretched out almost on top of her.
"Yes I did, but the saying your name and shaking you didn't seem to be getting me anywhere." He rumbled. "Where were you?"
"The chair." Was her wobbly reply.
"Are we getting up to go for a run or are you going to try and get some more sleep?" His breath was still fanning against the exposed skin above the collar of her shirt.
She shook her head, "No I don't want to go for a run."
"I take it we're still undecided on going back to sleep then." He slipped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Samantha groaned, she was going to try very hard to fall back asleep, but she wasn't sure she could.
A few minutes later Wade returned holding a mug. "Here you go Princess."
Samantha sat up a bit but demurred. "I don't want coffee."
"It's not coffee." He pressed the mug into her hands and then slipped back into bed next to her.
Samantha sniffed at the steam coming up from the mug. "Chocolate?"
"Works on Dementors and bad dreams." He agreed, "And besides I don't think you need any more coffee. "Unless of course you want to get up and stay up."
"Are you getting up?"
"Not unless you're kicking me out of bed. Now tell me about this dream of yours." The sun was already coming up in the east giving him enough light to see her lips twist into a frown. "You'll feel better if you talk about it."
Samantha sighed and took a gulp of chocolate. She didn't look at him, just stared into the lightning room.
"Why haven't I bought curtains for this room yet?" She murmured, "There are windows on two sides of this room, and yet we don't have any curtains in it."
"I think it's because you're secretly a voyeur. But if curtains will make you happy have at. I don't care so long as they aren't pink." Deadpool's voice was warm with humor. It was obvious he was trying to make her feel better.
Samantha considered that for a moment, no one had ever accused her of having a voyeur streak, but she had to admit the idea didn't bother her as much as it 'should.' Certainly she didn't have to worry about ruining anyone's career now. And let's face it, she thought, if I minded I'd have had curtains up on day one.
"You might be right; you certainly bring out my inner flirt." She leaned into him, still holding the mug in both hands.
Wade snorted, but he was trying not to get sidetracked. "So about this dream?"
Samantha frowned again and then gave in. "When he propositioned me, I bit him. Let's just say that made him mad, or perhaps a better term is enraged. Bradley slapped me hard enough to knock the chair over. Then he kicked me in the stomach and chest. I don't know how long he did it for. I know he broke a few ribs, I could feel them popping back into place. I just tried not to let him know I was healing, so I tried to hunch into myself, but the chair kept me from doing that."
"Was that what the blood on your cheek was from when he slapped you then?" He asked quietly.
She nodded and then softer than before she continued. "He said it didn't matter if you actually like me or not because no man likes watching another play with his toy. And that was what he was going to do to get back at you. He was going to kill Weasel and me, but he was going to play with me first."
"I should have killed him slower."
[Or brought him back and did it again.]
{And again.}
"Once was enough, so far as I'm concerned, he got what he deserved." Her voice was almost too quiet to hear now.
"It's not, but it'll have to do." He growled.
"How often do you have nightmares?" She asked, trying to turn the subject.
"I don't sleep well for the most part. I either can't fall asleep or can't stay asleep, sometimes it's nightmares, sometimes it's just a need to move, or the boxes won't shut up."
[It hasn't been so bad recently.]
"I'm glad it's been better recently. I know it always seems like I fall asleep before you do." Samantha set her now empty mug on the bedside table and returned to leaning into his shoulder. "It seems like everyone in this universe should have PTSD. I know Stark does, and Rodgers, heck so does Hawkeye."
"Loki did a number on him." Wade agreed.
"He did, but I think that particular battle could have gone much worse. Not that it wasn't bad enough the way it did go. Actually, I think the whole portal through space thing might be too much for Tony. So I try not to bring it up with him."
(That and we like it here.)
"You like it here do you? And what exactly is it about this universe that you enjoy over the other one?" Wade meant it to be teasing, but Sam could hear something else buried in the sarcasm.
"I like this," was her honest answer. "I like being here with you. It's certainly better than my condo was. There I could barely work up the energy to do anything outside of immediate work concerns and running. It was a lot like being on pause, or at least what I imagine pause is like. Here everything is in color again. I stopped writing after the accident, but I started again last week. I should be finished with an article to submit by next Friday. I have the energy to tackle projects again, sorting your stuff, and getting the taxes computed and paid. I've been doing the same with Captain Rodger's account, getting it sorted out and diversified for him. And Pepper has had me audit a few things once or twice. Keeps me busy."
"Is that what you've been working on, I was wondering what the busy scribbling was about." Wade had noticed she'd had paperwork spread across the table daily, and a notebook she was almost never without.
"Yes, the effects of 'superheroes' on the economy and whether they help or hurt. I'm going to send it to the Times as an opinion piece. Widow got me my doctorate again, so at least I can string some letters behind my name. Doesn't matter much, but people want to see them when you offer an opinion on money. And even better I'll have my C.P.A. results here in the next week, at least that's the target release date. They have two testing periods every year, and I just caught the tail end of the second one." Sam's voice was stronger again, warming to the subject.
"So does all this preparation for living here in this universe translate into a permanent roommate for me?" Wade's voice was expressionless again, trying not to influence her answer one way or another. He wanted her to stay, especially when he ignored the fact that she'd be safer anywhere than with him. However, he wasn't convinced she wanted the same. Even if she didn't want to live in the tower, she was perfectly capable of getting her own place, as Parker had pointed out.
(We don't want to be roommates.)
Deadpool flinched but didn't say anything, which didn't stop the boxes.
{Told ya.}
[Lasted longer than I expected it to.]
"You two are like doom in stereo. What I meant, is I had roommates in college, and I didn't sleep with them. So I'm objecting to the idea of no sex, not to living here with you. Which given that you have the two idiots in stereo I will remind you of frequently if necessary." She tapped him on the forehead. "Assuming of course that you don't mind having a whatever you would happen to call this."
"Well since you're hell bent upon staying I guess this means I need another chair." He teased her.
"Yes, it's been driving me bonkers, not that I object to sitting in your lap." She teased him back.
"The chair stays. Other than that do what you want with the living room. I'll even make you a deal, you catch another few hours of sleep and I will suffer through looking at furniture with you." He slid down further into the sheets and tugged her down with him.
"I don't need to be coddled." She protested.
"Yeah well it's much more fun to exhaust you if you're not already exhausted." Deadpool probably wouldn't sleep, but he wanted to make sure she had a few more hours before she started her day. She seemed to have forgotten about the dream for now, and he didn't want her to get to the point where she avoided sleep because of her dreams.
"You're horrible at being ruthless; I hope you know that." She snuggled into his chest.
"You are the only person I know who thinks that." He kissed the crown of her head. "Now get some sleep. The longer you sleep, the longer I can put off shopping."
Twenty minutes of murmured conversation later and Samantha was back out. Wade waited until he was sure she wasn't going to wake up again and slid out of bed. Throwing on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt he wandered out to the living room but kept the door to the bedroom open. On the counter his phone sat blinking, indicating he had a message. It was his personal phone and not his burner, so the number of people the message could be from was limited, extremely limited. Sliding the screen lock he opened his messages.
How's she doing? Nat.
Not horrible, sleeping now. How did you hear? DP
Fury isn't happy. Calling Dr. Richards into access portal. Have fun with that. Came the immediate reply.
I wasn't aware Fury could be happy. Not my problem either way.
Let her know I'll be up in a week; we'll do lunch.
So Tosh, which do you find stranger, the fact that you text me at all, or that you're relaying lunch plans through me?
He waited a moment but when no answer was forthcoming he set the phone back down and picked up the book he had been reading. He couldn't sleep anymore, but he wanted to be able to hear Sam the moment she got up.
Right about the time the Ents determined that Hobbits were not Orcs he heard a noise coming from the bedroom. Setting the book down he padded silently back down the hall to check on Samantha. She was just starting to stretch herself awake in their huge bed when he reappeared in the room. He flicked a glance at the bedside clock and smiled.
"Afternoon Coyote."
"What time is it?" She was still muzzy with sleep.
"Six minutes past noon. Which means that it's past breakfast time, looks like you're going to have to have brunch."
Samantha gave one more lazy stretch before hopping out of bed. Or rather attempting to hop out of bed, she snagged her right foot in the sheets and tripped instead. She managed to catch herself before she took more than two stumbling steps.
She gave him a rueful grin, "A picture of grace as always."
Deadpool snorted, "I'm still amazed you can walk in heels."
"Weird isn't it, I can walk all day in stilettos with a book balanced on my head, but put me near furniture and I'm bound to ram my foot into it somehow."
"Speaking of furniture are you actually wanting to go shopping today or hang out around the apartment and relax? You know like we were planning to do yesterday." He'd go if she insisted but he'd rather not deal with crowds of people.
"I'm not doing anything until I eat, and possibly not even then. Did you get any more sleep or have you been up since earlier?" She was headed for the bathroom but paused at the door to wait for his answer.
"I wasn't tired, so I've been reading." He turned to go back out into the living room, "Do you want breakfast or lunch?"
"Breakfast." Sam closed the bathroom door behind her sure that pancakes were in her future. Samantha was used to not having a mirror to consult every morning; it had taken her a little while, but she didn't miss it now. If she wanted to use one she could always pop into the guest bath but she had been braiding her hair for so long, she didn't need it. She quickly unbraided it from the night before and put it into a fishtail braid for the day.
"You know I'm starting to like this system, you make breakfast, we fight over lunch, and I make dinner," Samantha announced a few minutes later as she wandered into the kitchen. Just as she had predicted, Deadpool was making pancakes. She knew it was a direct reflection of his mood if he were happy he'd make pancakes if he weren't he'd slide a bowl of cereal across the counter to her. Weirdly he always seemed more concerned with whether or not she was eating enough rather than if he ate at all.
Samantha wasn't a breakfast person, which is why she didn't make breakfast. To her it meant grabbing a coffee on the way into work, maybe a pastry if she stopped at Starbucks. Wade on the other hand firmly believed that the day didn't begin until you'd eaten at least four pancakes, at least in her case, in his more like a dozen.
"The only fighting that we do over lunch is that you don't believe that chimichangas should be eaten daily. Which is insane because they can be eaten at every meal you don't have pancakes at." Came his reply as he slid the last pancake onto her plate.
"For my birthday can we have a pancake and chimichangas free day? She mused.
"I will agree to that if you agree to only pancakes and chimichangas on my birthday." He answered. "Unless of course this is your way of saying you don't like my pancakes?" Wade studied her expression carefully.
"I adore your pancakes, but I always have chocolate cake for breakfast on my birthday." Sam hopped up on the counter to start on the plate that Wade had already doctored with syrup and butter. Somewhere along the line, she had adopted the habit of eating breakfast on the kitchen counter while Wade either finished cooking his or leaned against the counter near her eating his. Her mother would be horrified, but she preferred it over eating at the table by herself or eating cold pancakes with him.
"When is your birthday?" He cut into her musings.
"The 12th." She responded without thinking.
"As in less than two weeks away?" He turned to away from the stove with his plate piled high.
"Hmm, I guess that would be right. I'm turning not 30 again." A corner of her mouth turned up at her humor.
"Not 30, funny, we're the same age. And do you really eat chocolate cake for breakfast on your birthday?" Wade stopped talking long enough to cram a rolled-up pancake into his mouth.
"Yes chocolate cake is a must, has been since I was five. That was always the deal I could eat whatever I wanted on my birthday. Of course after the age of say 12, I usually just had the cake for breakfast and normal food for lunch and dinner. Except the year I happened to be pregnant on my birthday, that year I didn't have chocolate cake until around 2 pm when food was safe." Sam laughed a bit at the memory.
It was on the tip of Sam's tongue to ask if he ever had a similar birthday tradition but remembered in time that asking about his family was futile. It was also a sure recipe to an angry mercenary. Not that he'd harm her, he'd just rant and rave for hours or sulk depending on what memory her probing brought to the surface. At least she thought that was the reasoning behind the different reactions.
Wade's moods were mercurial. He could, and did, flip between them at a drop of a hat. Something that Sam was still getting used to. Academically she could understand that, given the life that he had led, but knowing the reasoning behind some of it didn't make it easier. But she was learning a bit more about it every day, for instance when he started stringing sentences together with barely a pause for breath it was a good idea to let him wind down on his own. Sam just tried to keep up with the subject changes and ask relevant questions to let him know she was still listening. On days when he was broody and staring off into space, she let him have quiet. She'd make a point to bring him a snack or drink so he wouldn't feel ignored but she didn't pressure him for an explanation.
Neither course of action came easy to her, but she was trying. She wondered from time to time if her parents and friends had found her this difficult in the years since the accident. Well probably not, but she figured a huge thank you was in order anyway. Assuming she ever went back to her version of the universe.
"What are you thinking about?" Wade broke the companionable silence that had settled in the kitchen.
"The difficulties of sending a trans-dimensional Thank You card."
{Imagine the postage.}
"You could ask Strange, but he's not the most helpful of people." Wade reasoned.
[That's because sane people don't like helping insane mercenaries]
{Speaking of dimensional holes weren't we supposed to tell her something?}
[Richards]
"What about Richards? I'm assuming you mean the Fantastic Four one."
"Widow texted earlier, saying that Fury was still a dick and that he had Richards taking a look into the portal thing."
[And…]
"Oh and she'll be up this next week, so something about lunch." Wade shrugged.
"I'm not exactly thrilled at the idea of Fury having any say in what happens to me, but since I went to Stark and the rest of the Avengers for help, I guess it was inevitable." As far as Sam could tell the only bright side in this was that she would get a chance to talk to Natasha.
"Is it Fury that worries you or SHIELD, and by SHIELD I mean HYDRA." He cast her a serious look.
"HYDRA, and let me just say I cannot tell you how hard it has been not to scream a warning at all of them! Heck, I haven't even brought it up with you because I wasn't sure how far ahead your fourth wall breaking goes. How does that even work, do you dream about a movie on its release date?" The relief that she wasn't alone in this was very clear in her voice.
"If the movie is released then I've seen it and yeah no one likes spoilers. Besides, if you tell them a few things are bound to happen. One you'll get told your insane, been there done that, no point to it. Two you'll shift the timeline or break it." He shrugged. "Three you'll end up a target for HYDRA because they'll want to know what you know. Personally, they alternate between trying to get rid of me, trying to capture me, or trying to hire me." He was unapologetic on the last one. If they wanted to hire him to take out their competition, he didn't see why he couldn't get paid for it.
[Pays the bills.]
{Do we pay bills?}
(You do from now on…)
"Yeah I have this feeling I'd be spending a lot of time in a dark room refusing to answer questions if I catch their attention." Samantha agreed, "And that's if I'm lucky. So yes I'm trying to avoid exposure."
"On the bright side the Fantastic Four aren't part of SHIELD, so this is probably more to satisfy the pirate's curiosity than anything else. Or you'll luck out, and Richard's will forget you exist for six or so months until his wife reminds him about you because Fury won't stop nagging her."
"Which version of the Four is this? The original one or the new one that bombed. Not that either was a spectacular success at the box office." She set her empty plate aside and took a sip of her coffee.
Smirking, Wade answered, "The 2005 one, and no, not one person notices that Johhny Storm is just a younger looking Steve Rodgers."
Samantha laughed, "A much less behaved version as well. At least this version of Richards looks like he graduated college already. Makes it slightly easier to keep a straight face when he's called 'Mr. Fantastic'."
Wade snorted, he found Reed Richards more than a little sanctimonious but thankfully they didn't cross paths all that often. Maybe Weasel knew of something that would keep him busy this week so he wouldn't have to put up with him and Stark in the same spot. That was of course if Richards didn't get distracted by one of his science projects. Or if Doom didn't decide to leave Lateveria this week and pay a visit to New York City. Maybe he should give Doom a shout, rattle his cage a bit. Then he could kidnap Sue and everyone would forget about Coyote.
"Whatever just put that smile on your face can not be good for mankind." Samantha could almost see the wheels turning, but since the boxes weren't flashing up right now, she had no idea what it was about. Judging by the gleam in his eye though it wasn't a PG plan.
Samantha hopped off the counter to rinse her plate and set it aside to wash later. Taking her refreshed mug of coffee with her, she wandered into the living room to find her tablet. She had an idea about the living room furniture she wanted to run past him.
"I was simply wondering if I could convince Doom to schedule a visit in the upcoming week." Wade followed her out with the grin still tugging up the edges of his mouth.
"I wasn't under the impression that Doom would visit New York just to do you a favor. And I have to say that him visiting just to annoy the Four will backfire on you somehow. Not that I can prove it, until you do it and then it'll be too late." She murmured still looking for her tablet.
"What are you looking for?" Slightly deflated by her, probably correct, assumption that Doom wouldn't pan out.
[She'd make us help them, and then we'd have to listen to Victor monolog.]
{Dude still hasn't figured out that the bad guy doesn't get the girl.}
"I'm looking for my tablet; I had something saved on it that I wanted to show you."
"It's on the table, you left it there last night, I plugged it in to charge for you." He gestured with his head.
"Ah hah, thanks for that." Sam wandered round the corner to retrieve it.
"So what are our plans for the day? Shopping or?" He slumped in his chair hoping to hear that he was avoiding the gallows.
{She said she doesn't need an escort everywhere, let her go by herself.}
[Recipe for disaster.]
{The shopping or the alone part?}
[Both]
"The goal for the day isn't to torture you by making you go out in public without your suit on. The goal is to relax, finish a project I'm working on for Steve, and maybe get something a bit bigger to sit on so I can sit with you without sitting on you." She chided him.
"And you hope to do all this without leaving the apartment today, oh crazy one?" He watched as she stood next to him fussing with her tablet.
"I have a secret weapon; it's called prior experience in furniture shopping. It also may or may not involve me wandering around the furniture stores a while ago with Pepper and Natasha figuring out which sets were the most comfortable and taking pictures of them with my tablet so I could show them to you and find out which one you could live with. There are five options that make the comfort cut, three go with your chair and two do not. However, the chair could be moved into the bedroom so you could sit on that when you take off your boots rather than on the bed."
"How long have you been plotting to get furniture into this room?" On his face, he wore an expression of mock horror.
"Since the moment, I saw it." She smiled.
(Momma would have had it in here by the end of the first week.)
"I'm not sure if I should congratulate you for your self-control or mock you for being a slacker."
(Both)
"I can't help it; it's the loneliest looking living room I've ever seen." The truth was past her lips before she could stop it.
"Weirdly I don't get a lot of visitors; I'm not sure if it's because I tend to un-alive them or if they don't like my taste in music."
"I'm not saying we should host a party every weekend, but when you bring home Spider-man as a human shield, it'd be nice if he had a place to sit. Which by the way sort of negates the whole 'fiercest mercenary' ever gig." She dropped her tablet in his lap.
"Now that's just hurtful, do you know a better mercenary?" He ignored the tablet for the moment.
"Well maybe not better but more frightening, assuming Nat counts, because honestly I find her scarier. Not that you aren't terrifying when you're working, I mean I'm sure you scare the crap out of many people. But I've seen you argue with your boxes over which episode of Family Guy is the best. It's weirdly endearing, and before you start, so is the pouting you're about to engage in."
{Widow counts if we could die she'd terrify us.}
[She can still mind fuck us.]
"Alright, Nat counts. And I didn't use Parker as a human shield; I brought him by because he was afraid I was holding you captive… Because I'm a ruthless merc, the Merc with a Mouth, the Regenerate Degenerate." He wasn't going to dignify the pouting part with a rebuttal.
So mouthy degenerate are you going to take a gander at your choices or shall I pick the white one and get pink throw pillows?" Totally a bluff.
"If you want to clean a white sofa daily be my guest." Came his sanguine answer, but he did pick up the tablet.
Sam kneeled on the floor next to the chair, cocking her head so she could see the tablet as well. Apparently she wasn't going to give on this furniture thing. Not that he really minded the idea, his only objection being it would remind him of her when she finally went home to her dimension.
[We'll just blow it up after she leaves.]
{Napalm!}
Sam hummed a bit in the back of her throat at the boxes. It sounded more like amusement than annoyance, in fact, it was remarkably similar to another noise she made when he knew she was happy. The throaty hum caused a flicker of interest to run down his spine. He shifted slightly wondering what his chances of getting her to abandon whatever project she had mentioned earlier to spend some time in the bedroom. Or the table, or his chair, he wasn't even close to running through all the ideas he had tucked away in his head.
Forcibly dragging his attention back to the tablet he browsed through the images. Brown leather, no leather, it was pretty much all in the same style as the chair he was currently sitting in. As he suspected, there was no white leather in evidence. He eliminated the two that didn't 'go' with his chair.
"Which one is the largest?" If he needed furniture, he wanted some he could stretch out across with no issues.
Sam scooted a bit closer and pointed, "It's also the most comfortable, in my opinion."
"Well pick a card and order it then." He handed her back her tablet.
" You're not going to argue over this?" Sam looked like she wasn't sure why he'd agreed.
Deadpool sighed.
[She's overthinking this.]
"Would you have asked Jonathan why he wasn't arguing with you?" Came his curious response.
"I wouldn't have asked Jonathan if he wanted new furniture at all, I would have just ordered if I thought it was needed. One because if I had asked he would have told me it was up to me and two because it was my house. I mean clearly we shared it, but we shared it as man and wife, so it was our house, but this isn't our apartment, it's yours."
"I'd put your name on the lease, but my name isn't on it either." He shrugged.
She snorted, "I know your name isn't on the lease, I filed it away when I cleaned your desk. And the fact that you pay that much in rent is highway robbery."
Shaking her head she wandered back over to the table and plugged her tablet back in on the charger. Snagging the notebook that had been sitting next to it earlier she started flipping through checking her notes. She had a project to work on, and she had already slept away half the day.
Deadpool raided the fridge for a drink and then strolled over to peer over her shoulder at what she was doing. He crowded against her chair ignoring the concept of personal space as usual.
"Charities?" He took in her neat writing.
Sam tilted her head back to eye him, "I'm making a list of charities for Cap, one's that are credible and fit the requirements he set out. I figure if I provide him with a list of 20 or so of them he can choose the one or two that he prefers and then we can set up a donation plan. I'm helping him organize his finances overall as well."
"I bought two of the bonds he signed and auctioned off for charity last year." Stretching over her shoulder, he put his glass down on the table.
"I heard that was immensely popular, raised millions for various charities to help repair the city after the invasion." She murmured, going back to work. "I should be done with this and have the list emailed to him in no more than an hour. Then we can do whatever you want to do."
"Whatever I want to do? You do love to live dangerously don't you." Wade's voice held more than a hint of suggestion.
Samantha tossed him a grin, "I do indeed, but let me finish this up first. Then I can devote my entire attention to whatever it is that that brain of yours is cooking."
Author's Notes
I hope all my American peeps had a lovely holiday weekend.
Thanks to everyone that left a non-member review (and all the member ones as well), they mean a ton even if I can't reply to them personally.
We all made it safe and sound to the new house and are settling in nicely so looks like updates will continue as normal. Yay!