Between Buddies (I won't if you don't) [Marvel]
Title: Between Buddies (I won’t if you don’t)
Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, manner, or form, own Wolverine: Origins, X-Men, the Marvel universe, or the characters said universe/franchise contains. All publicly recognizable characters are copyrighted to Marvel and Fox. No infringement intended.
Fandom: Marvel
Continuity: X-Men Origins: Wolverine, movie-verse
Characters: Fred Dukes/The Blob, John Wraith/Kestrel
Warnings: Wanking joke.
Summary: Wraith supplies sufficient motivation for Dukes to be lose a few.
Author’s Note: I’m so, so sorry.
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“John. John, I got a problem.”
Wraith snuffled, burrowing his face back into the crook of his arm. His back was killing him, every muscle stretched into an uncomfortable position, his spine feeling tight and cramped and nearly cracking with every breath, but goddamn if that had not been the best fifteen minute bout of sleep he’d had all week. No nightmares, no jolting awake finding himself teleported onto the roof or back in the closet. Just a restful, spine-killing, good old fashioned snooze.
Damn every charitable urged he’d ever had, he was going to murder Dukes. Cold-blooded. Just him and a piano wire.
“What?” He groaned, palming his sunglasses off his face and tipping his hat out of the way. Fred-Fred looked oddly uncertain, for once sporting no drink or grease-dipped artery-stopping confection. He shuffled from one overburdened foot to the other.
Fred spread both hands, presenting his palms as if every answer could be found in their creases. “I got a problem.”
“What kind of-oh. Uh,” Wraith sucked in a breath, rocking back in his seat. That kind of problem.
“I can’t reach it.”
“No. Hell no.”
“But I can’t reach. I won’t tell nobody if you don’t.”
“No, Fred, no. Call-call that girl, Vanessa, Carla, whatever her name is, no, no, no,” Wraith sputtered, looking every which way but directly in front of him. They were friends-well, old associates, at least, and that bred a certain kind of loyalty, sharing what horror stories they did, but, but, no.
“I ain’t got a girl. That’s what started me up. See, I was thinking about-”
“I don’t want to know. I really don’t want to know. I thought I was done with this kind of shit with Wade gone.”
“But I can’t reach it. And I already been ignoring it before. C’mon, John, be a bud,” Fred took a lumbering step forward. Wraith shot up out of his chair, retreating a full three.
“This is just sad, man. You need to lose some weight, butterball,” Wraith snorted. “Isn’t healthy to be, well. Like that. Bad enough you can’t bathe yourself, but I’m not wanking you off.”
Fred paused, eyebrows descending like angry storm clouds on the horizon. “…Did you just call me a butterball?”
“What if I did?” Wraith folded his arms, one eyebrow rising up independent of its twin. “What’re you gonna do about it? You can’t touch me, and you’re huge, Fred. It just ain’t right.”
Indignant in his stretched shorts and whatever sheet that called itself a shirt, Fred drew himself up, puffing up his chest what, in another life, would have been an intimidating swell. His nostrils flared. “I can lose it. I can lose it whenever I want to.”
“Bullshit.”
“Don’t you be calling me a liar, John,” Fred rumbled, deep and low. “I can be fighting trim, less than a week. I just put on a few, that’s all.”
“A few? Really, Fred? I’ve put on a ‘few’. Stop living in denial, man. You got an eating disorder.”
“I don’t puke,” Fred replied, slow, not quite certain what argument was to be made.
Wraith considered, for a long moment, simply teleporting outside, getting on his bike, and leaving. But then his eyes met Fred’s, and all that shit they did came rushing back, and his shoulders slumped. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Alright, then, Fred. We’ll make a deal. You train up, get slimmed down, and I won’t be callin’ you a butterball.”
“Fine,” Fred sucked in a breath, anger melting away. “You’re a good friend to me, John. But, uh, first…” He pointed down.
“Oh, Jesus…”
“I won’t tell nobody if you don’t.”