Part 1
There's a response.
It's been only two hours since Wade posted his online profile, hoping to get some hot piece of ass to pound him into oblivion for his rut, and he's already gotten aresponse. Wild.
Chewing his lip, he sits in the dark of his apartment and blinks up at the ceiling. The fan is droning because shit is New York hot (or maybe it's the first prickles of his godforsaken rut, already beginning to set in a few days early as a cherry on top of this shitshow). He sort of assumed he'd post it then nothing would happen. Honestly, he's not sure how to even go about dating anymore, let alone dating online, and he sure as hell isn't sure how to casually hook up for a rut without needing to pay for it.
And there's a response! Already! A person already interested enough to contact his crusty ass!
Probably because you used that old picture, let's be honest.
It's so undeniably true that Wade doesn't even bother denying it.
For a long moment, he stares at the screen of his phone. The email contains no further details than New message! Login to reply, and part of him is thankful for it. He's almost expecting some wisecrack about his skin despite there being no way anyone viewing his profile could know about it.
Then again, now that he thinks about it, maybe they could. Maybe the Avengers are still keeping track of him. Maybe Stark thinks it would be funny to poke some fun; after Wade told Steve he needed a new husband during that last team up, he was pretty pissed. Maybe someone (Weasel probably) just recognized him and is messaging to tell him to get a life and stop posting old pictures of himself on the interwebs (Ha! Webs!).
Paranoid much?
Stomach knotting (Ha! Knotting!), he shifts in bed uncomfortably and sits up to grab his laptop. He knows he's going to need to type properly for this one.
While it boots, Wade wraps a blanket around his shoulders and punches his pillow, getting it nice and fluffed so he can tuck it against his chest. Sighing, he drags his thumb over the trackpad and clicks through to the website. Everything about this is stupid, and he probably should have listened to White, but what's done is done. Here he is. Here the message is. Might as well look.
James Smith has messaged you!
He scratches the patchy beard just barely forming on his chin, wincing when he realizes he doesn't have his gloves on so hello skin-to-skin contact.
(More like scar-to-scar!)
Sure is a boring name.
I bet he's cute! I bet he's a big, strong Alpha!
You do understand this is for rut, right? We're supposed to hook up with a Beta. You know, notget the shit beat out of us by another Alpha or get some poor Omega knocked up.
Wade swats at the air next to his ear as if he can brush them away. He clicks the link to the man's profile and pauses. The picture provided is of a pretty, plain blond with bright blue eyes. He's a Beta, and apparently gay. His bio is sugary and romantic and it just makes Wade bored.
"What even is this?" he mutters, still scratching. "I said I wanted to be pounded. This guy's a twink with an obvious boner for the typical romance. Probably watches Bareback Mountain on repeat and cries about it - not that I'm one to judge, but-"
Okay…. First off: Brokeback. Brokeback Mountain.
Are you really complaining? He's cute! He's interested! Our rut is so close, who even cares?
No, he's right. This is stupid. Why would he contact you? He obviously doesn't want to be on top of anyone or anything. I mean, you did put switch, though.
Now who's stereotyping! So what if he's a little on the smaller side? Vanessa was small and she could still fuck you into the mattress!
"Shit, he's right."
And what about Shiklah? She could whoop your ass, too!
"Damn right."
And Siryn, too! She'd dom our dumb ass until-
Okay, okay - I really don't think the readers are interested in hearing about thattrainwreck.
Name drop!
"Alright, boys! We're getting laid by a hot blond!"
He goes into the message, and falters.
Hello! I just saw your profile and thought we might be a good match! Would you like to chat?
The boxes, for once, are quiet while Wade types up his response. Then he gets cold feet, deleting the whole thing, and they won't shut the fuck up.
"I'm not sure I can do this," he says, voice high and croaking. "It's not high! Cut that line! It's perfectly manly!"
Not really!
You sound like a goddamn teenager.
"Perfectly manly!"
We didn't come this far for you to pussy out. Get your act together.
Yeah!
Fucking answer the twink.
Yeah!
If shit is going to go down, I'm not letting you halfass this thing.
Yeah!
Groaning, he types up the most reasonable message he can come up with. "Feels like I'm sweating bullets."
If you could, it would save us a lot of money.
There was that one time you shit a few out after the funwith Deathstroke.
Why would you bring up that piece of shit now of all times?
That earns a chuckle, and Wade is just distracted enough that he doesn't stop himself from hitting send.
hiya cutie whats a sweet thing like you doin single?
Wait, I just realized something….
"Oh no…."
You? Realize something? Sounds fake.
Do we have to pay him?
… Um….
"No? I mean, maybe? Does it matter?" he grumbles, pouting at the picture of the man. "Y'know, I wonder what Spidey looks like-"
Here we go….
"Whaaat? It keeps me up at night!" Wade whines, poking around the man's profile. "Bet he's gorgeous. With an ass like that, you know God had to give him a pretty face."
If God is real, he's arealsick fuck.
I'm not sure we can say - I mean, everything that's happened to us is our writers' faults, really.
And God made them so here we are, a manifestation of their fucked up nature.
Grunting, Wade pokes through the tabs on the profile that should lead to more pictures and more info, but instead he's met with nothing. "Y'know… there isn't a lot here…."
Maybe he just made the profile?
"Nah, it's fake."
Jesus Christ you're paranoid.
"No, I'm serious. Besides! Who was against this shit from the start?"
Wade drags the photo of the man to another tab. Google does its thing and there they are: stock photos, of all things; they're not even from a hot babe's Insta.
(I feel like a spy-haxxor-dude!)
"This guy isn't real," he says cooly, scrolling through the similar pictures that pop up. They're all of the same man posing for some cheap photoshoot. He closes the tab and leans back, pressing his fingers to his eyes harshly.
Something dark settles in the pit of his stomach, twisting and churning. He's itching for a knife - something that will make the pain go away.
Don't tell me you got your hopes up….
When Wade doesn't answer, the boxes stay quiet.
Returning to his messages, Wade stares at the dots at the bottom of the screen that indicates typing. "What's the point of making a fake profile?" he asks, voice sharp.
Maybe he's like you! I mean ugly! Like you! So he uses a fake pic! Like you!
Oh, the irony.
"Heeey… yeah! That's right! Could just be a nasty fuck like me! Could've just made his profile, too!"
Pretty sure I saw a date on there that read he posted it three months ago. Plenty of time to add some actual detail to it.
"You're just bitter!"
We're gonna get laid by an ugly fucker!
No, you're fucking stupid and you need to actually think before you jump into this. You already about shit yourself at the thought of being played - which is still a very real possibility! - and now you're just going to continue with-
There's a ding.
"Message!"
Goddamnit.
Haha you're sweet! I could ask you the same thing, handsome ;)
Wade shoves the computer back and hops off the bed, nearly tripping over his sheets but quickly righting himself before he's sent sprawling headfirst into his sword stand. White chokes and berates him for it immediately, but he's a little too distracted to care.
Giddy and full of energy. he's itching to shoot something, but in a good way this time.
"Holy shit why haven't I been online dating for years now?" he giggles a little wildly, a little too happily. "It's perfect! I get to see dick pics and no one has to see my face!"
For fuck's sake-
Diiick!
"No! Seriously! Imagine-"
His computer dings again and he twists around, belly-flopping onto the bed to see the message.
You like to bottom, yeah?
Wade squeals like a girl, burying his face in the pillow.
Oh, geez….
We're getting laid!
Did I mention this is a bad fucking idea?
He has - about ten times just today, actually - but Wade stopped fucking caring around the second time. He's not really in the mood for Debby Downer to ruin this for him. He spent the last five hours making his apartment look presentable (cleaning up the takeout, scrubbing the blood stains, shoving his weapons in the closet) and his mood can't be ruined. He's going to have a nice dinner from Toloache with this motherfucker he met online. Then he's gonna wait a day for his rut and get fucked.
Okay, maybe he won't wait. Why would he? Why should he?
Sure, giving a stranger his address and inviting them over when he's already sure they're lying about their identity is probably not a great idea (not to mention he's already clarified he's all about bad ideas), but what's the worst that can happen? If the guy is a creep, he'll just kill him. Save the whole world a little bit of trouble. If the guy is a creep and stronger than him, he'll just let himself be killed then come back and get a little revenge. If the guy is actually cute, maybe there will be some puke on his carpet when the kid sees Wade's face or something but no harm, no foul and he'll at least have company for dinner.
You're going to get us a stalker or some shit.
Better than being alone forever!
"There we go! Bright side to everything!"
Moving around the couch, Wade sets out the containers of carne asada tacos and those cinnamon things he stopped to get from Taco Bell. Like the gentleman he is, he also snagged a rough-looking rose from a street vendor. He puts some water in an old can then slips the rose right in.
"Ah, yes…. A romantic dinner."
We aren't getting laid.
"Spoilsport."
You just put a rose… in a fucking can… and then put that can on a table full of cinnamon twists and tacos.
"It worked for Nessa!"
Vanessa was a piece of work just like you. And even she would have been freaked out if you had pulled this shit on your first date.
We did pull this shit on our first date.
"See? It's all gonna be fine."
You also paid for that first date.
Wade knows it's not going to be fine. He wanted to do something nice even though this is just a hookup (if that), only problem is he's not sure exactly how much is too much, especially considering the situation. More importantly, how honest is too honest?
Rubbing his jaw, he admires the packages of food and the rose. "This probably counts as too honest."
Definitely.
You don't say….
Cheeks hot, Wade groans and turns to look at the computer on the kitchen counter. Embarrassment tightening his chest, he pouts at it tiredly. "I should… cancel I guess."
No shit.
Nooo….
"I don't wanna…. I don't know. I'm tired of looking like an idiot."
Too bad you are one.
But the ugly Beta….
And, of course, that's when the doorbell rings.
I fucking hate fanfiction.
We're getting laid!
Wade rushes to the door, pathetically eager and lacking the sense he needs to be cautious. He pauses once there and straightens the button-down he put on over his suit before checking to make sure his mask and gloves are on. Can't have the guy vomiting before he even steps inside.
With a deep breath, he opens the door.
Standing in front of him is a tall, lean kid. He's got a hood drawn over his head but he peers out at Wade with big, doe eyes which quickly sharpen upon spotting the mask. Cheekbones that could cut, lips soft as all hell, and a jaw to die for - this kid has no reason to use a fake pic on the web and it's a huge red flag.
No fucking shit.
After a moment, Wade sucks in yet another breath, intending to invite the pretty thing inside before he gets the sense to leave, but immediately kid is swinging his fist. He catches his wrist instinctually, but he can't stop the kid from sweeping his legs out from under him, only roll with it and drag him down, too.
Wade lands hard on his ass, and the boy lands even harder on his chest, knocking the breath out of him. Full lips parted, the he's panting and his skin, pale as ivory, is going pink already. Up close, Wade can see the sprinkle of freckles so light they're barely there on his cheeks and the dark edge around his irises and shit is he gay.
When he breathes in, the kid's scent is so goddamn thick that he can taste it - but the funny thing is he has no definable endotype. If he was on suppressants, he'd smell all baby-fresh like youngins before they present, but he doesn't. He smells sharp like an Alpha but sweet like an Omega and subtle like a Beta. Wade is so goddamn confused he doesn't think to grab the kid around his waist. It gives him the upper hand, allowing him to rear up.
Eyes dark and brow knit, he's a fuckign sight to behold.
Wade is distracted, like the idiot he is, and it earns him a knee to the balls.
Wheezing, he arches his back as if to get away and chokes out, "Holy mother Mary of fuckin' shit!"
Dumbfuck. I told you this was a bad idea.
Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr glimcold and early access to the next chapter can be found on my page!