The first order of business after Dean had completely recovered from his sudden burst of hormones in the shower room, was to call Sam. His brother was full of questions about the mission and if everything was all right, so much so that Dean just sat quietly and waited for the kid to get it all out of his system, before informing him that Sam and Castiel needed to get to New York.

That stopped Sam in his tracks, and he was silent so long Dean wondered if the call had dropped. Cell service kind of sucked in the bunker at times.

"Sammy?" he said gruffly.

"Uh, yeah. I'm here." Sam again paused, and Dean could almost see the confusion on his face as he asked, "Why do we need to come to New York? Are you in trouble?"

"Not in trouble," Dean said with a smirk. "They need a couple experts on demons, and really, who better than us?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Who needs experts?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D." Dean loved hearing the surprise in Sam's voice. "I can't really get into the full details over the phone, but there's some bad things happening. It's a mix of angels and demons, and mutants and it's not good. They need us. More specifically, they need you and Castiel. You guys are the brains."

"I...Dean, I don't know what to say." There was a smile in his voice, as he said, "I'll let Cas know. Um… His battery is still pretty low. I don't know if he can actually zap us out there."

"Don't worry about that. I've got two plane tickets reserved for you guys." Dean read off the confirmation numbers from Wade's laptop, then said, "Flight leaves at 4am. Once you get to New York, take a taxi to Stark Towers, and…"

"Stark Towers?" Sam blurted. "You mean like Stark Industries? Stark Tech?"

Dean's brow furrowed. "Yeah, I guess so?"

"Do you have any idea who Tony Stark is?" Sam asked, his voice indicating just how close he was to having a complete nerdgasm over the phone.

"We're meeting with a guy named Logan, so don't get too excited about whatever you're excited about," Dean said, laughing. "But yeah. Get your stuff packed. And…" He looked around Wade's living room, and said, "Don't worry about weapons or anything like that."

"Okay." Sam was smiling; Dean could hear it in his voice. "So, uh, where are you staying in New York?"

Dean's jaw twitched. "Staying at Wade's place."

Sam giggled. Fucking giggled. "Nice. Does he have a comfortable bed?"

"I hate you, Sam," Dean growled as he hung up the phone. Stupid little brothers with their stupid teasing. Dear god, if Sam knew the things that were going through Dean's mind today, right now even as he watched Wade bend over to get into his mini-fridge to grab a beer with his low hanging yoga pants and skin-tight t-shirt that showed every contour of muscle and jut of bone…

All those times he called Sam a girl were going to come back to bite him in the ass. Dean knew this. Dean deserved this.

Wade walked to the makeshift living room and handed Dean a beer before plopping down in the beat up recliner. "How's little Sammy and Cas?" he asked after a sip.

"Fine," Dean managed to croak out. He sounded tense, a little too tense.

So tense, Wade noticed it. "You okay, Chester? You seem a little…"

"I'm fine," Dean growled. He stared down at the beer, feeling kind of like an asshole for snapping. It's not Wade's fault that Dean lost control of himself in the shower. Nothing had happened between them that Dean wasn't fully on board with. Even the thing in the Impala, Dean was an active participant.

For a moment, Wade's eyes turned distant, and his smile turned sort of sad. And Dean found himself asking, "You okay?"

"Just thinking," he said before taking another gulp of his beer. "Sometimes, you really remind me of this guy I knew once. Nate. He… You could say he always felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders."

Dean shrugged. "Sometimes, it really is all on my shoulders."

"Yeah." Wade nodded. "Same way with Nate. Dude was from the future. Literally. He came back in time to sort of fix some shit that went wrong and led to a lot of bad during his time." Wade smiled softly, eyes looking to the past. "We... He was the only person who could make the voices shut up."

Dean's brow furrowed. "I haven't heard them in a while."

"Like I said, you remind me of him." Wade shrugged, then finished off his beer. Dean wanted to ask more questions about "Nate", because the way Wade looked, he was certain they were more than just friends. Not that he was jealous of that fact. Just curious.

But before he could ask, the doorbell rang, and Wade put on his mask, and made his way through the warehouse to pick up the pizza.

The look in Wade's eyes was all Dean could think about. The way they sort of lit up when he mentioned this other guy. And the oddest thought popped into Dean's head that he wanted to light up the merc's eyes too.

That thought made his cheeks burn and his heart pound a little, because he wasn't the kind of guy who thought about things like that. He was the King of one night stands. He wanted the girl at the bar who just wanted to get off and get him out the door. That was as much of a relationship as he could handle because his life was too complicated otherwise. The thing with Lisa was a half-hearted effort at best, and he only did it because he promised Sam to give "real life" a try. It didn't work. Would never work.

It probably would never work with Wade either. Dean was trapped in an uncertain limbo, somewhere between human and demon, living and dead. There was a lot of uncertainty. He felt lost and drifting (when he wasn't feeling homicidal). But Wade had a very soothing effect, maybe because the guy actually understood Dean's impulses, and didn't shy away. Just like Dean didn't shy away from Wade's scars or the voices in his head.

He was so lost in his own thoughts, Dean didn't hear the door when Wade came in, and jumped when the merc dropped the box on the table.

Wade lifted the lid, and inhaled deep, letting out an appreciative noise that made Dean break out in goosebumps. And Dean had to bite back a whimper at the practically orgasmic moan the merc made upon taking his first bite.

"This…" Wade said, holding up the slice, "This is the one and only thing I've missed about this shithole. Ozone's has the best damn pizza in the borough. No offense to the Pizza Hut of Lebanon, but seriously. Try this."

Dean drifted over to the table and picked up a giant slice, and took a bite. His eyes went wide, and he felt like he'd just found a piece of his soul that was missing. No wonder Wade was moaning like a porn star. It was so good, that despite Dean originally not feeling hungry, he had a second slice. Wade ate the rest of the pizza, letting out a satisfied belch.

"I don't know about you, Chester, but I'm beat," Wade said with a yawn for emphasis.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. It's been a busy couple of days."

"Yeah." Wade looked around the room, frowning at the cushions that made his sitting surfaces. He scratched the back of his head, and said, "I only have the one bed…"

"I noticed," Dean said.

"I can stay on my side if you can," the merc said with a grin.

Dean laughed, feeling heat rising on his face. "I… Yeah. I can do that."

A few minutes later, after Wade dug another blanket out of the closet and dusted off a pillow from the living room, the two were laying on opposite sides of the stack of mattresses. Dean was on his back with his arms at his sides, hands balled into fists. Wade lay on his stomach facing Dean, snuggled under his blanket, leg cocked out so that his knee was only a couple inches from Dean's side.

It shouldn't have felt awkward, Dean reasoned. Considering how many nights the two of them had ended up sleeping together on the couch or that one time in the kitchen. But that was because of circumstances, like nightmares and too many pancakes in front of the TV. They always started out in separate beds, and never slept in a bed together.

And Dean had never pounded one out while thinking about the merc either. That was still very fresh in his mind, along with the muscular vision that was Wade's astounding ass and legs and body. And fuck, Dean was getting hard again. He closed his eyes, focusing on breathing. Deep breath, 1… 2… 3… 4…, exhale 1… 2… 3… 4…

"Chester?" came Wade's sleep-deepened voice.

Dean bit his lip, feeling all progress fly out the window. "Yeah?"

He huffed a laugh. "Anyone ever tell you you think too loud?"

A nervous laugh escaped Dean's lips. His hands were still fisted at his side. "Sorry. I guess I have a lot on my mind."

Wade rolled onto his side and held out his arm, and said, "Come here."

Dean didn't move. "Huh?"

The merc let out a long suffering sigh and scooted closer, close enough he could rest his hand on Dean's chest, Wade's face pressed into the side of the hunter's pillow. He rubbed his hand over the tensed-up muscles of Deans chest, moving to his arm in a slow, gentle path. At first, Dean did not relax. But after a couple minutes, his entire body seemed to melt into the mattress. Eventually, he rolled towards the other man, and Wade's hand drifted down Dean's side, sliding to his back.

It was actually very soothing. Relaxing. Comfortable, even. There was no demand in the touch, no request for reciprocation. Yet, Dean's hands found their way to Wade's chest, feeling the texture of scar-covered muscle beneath the thin, tight fabric.

Then their mouths met in a brief brush of lips, almost chaste. Each returning again and again, lingering longer, slow and lazy and relaxed. Where before his mind was whirling with anxiety, Dean's mind was gloriously blank. It felt good to kiss Wade, natural as breathing. There was no urgency, no push for more. Wade's hands continued their slow path, tracing Dean's sides and skimming up and down his spine.

At some point, both of them drifted off to sleep with their limbs tangled around each other, foreheads resting together.

Wade woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. His heart was pounding, his body shaking. Though whatever nightmare had been in his mind, he could not remember what it was about. Sometimes, not remembering was worse than knowing because that's when the paranoia hit. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes as if that would somehow scrub away the discomfort.

He was about to get up when he felt movement behind him. He jumped up out of bed, a gun in his hand as he wheeled around with the hammer cocked. Wade was a fraction of a second from pulling the trigger, halted only by the soft whimpering noise coming from the bed.

Then he remembered. Dean. The cuddling. Kissing. Dean was in his bed. And from the sound of it, the hunter was struggling with his own night time hell.

With a shudder, Wade released the air from his lungs, and uncocked the revolver. He returned to the bed, sitting down as gently as possible not wanting to startle Dean awake, even as his own heart still thundered in his chest. Carefully, he snuggled up to the hunter's back, looping an arm around his waist, his forehead resting against the back of Dean's neck.

Softly, he started singing, "Hey Jude, don't make it bad…" It was meant to comfort Dean, but in all reality, it was more of a comfort to the merc. Sometimes just hearing a voice, even his own, made the world feel more real. There were many times when he was in the Workshop, even on the operating table, that he would sing whatever song that came to mind, just because it helped to pull him out of the torture, even if it just made the doctors laugh.

Wade Wilson didn't go crazy over night. It was a process that took years of torment and brain washing, mixed with sensory overload and sensory deprivation. He was thrown back and forth between extremes, and in the meantime he slowly split into pieces. That's why he started to believe that it was all just a story, and somewhere out there some sadistic writer was slowly spinning his world into further madness and tragedy. Once upon a time, that was a comforting thought.

His arms tightened around Dean, who was now breathing slow and deep, again sleeping peacefully. Wade wasn't the type to pray, even before Weapon X, but in that moment, he silently begged the writers that this story arch didn't end with disappointment and another broken heart.