Too much coffee.
I'm back! My muse kept bugging me to write Jean-Paul/Bobby smut instead of finishing my Deadpool/Siryn story. Bad muse! Pamcake spank!
Anyway, this story takes place just after "Method in the Madness." As usual, it's unbetad. Hopefully, this time I remembered to reformat my text before posting it. *smacks forehead* I am such an LJ newb.
Title- Ground Rules
Fandom- Marvel Comics
Pairing- Deadpool/Siryn
Rating- PG-13
Genre- My usual blend of fluff, humor, and angst
Summary- Wade offers Terry a place to stay
Disclaimer- I don't own any copyrighted properties mentioned within. They belong to their copyright holders naturally.
Ground Rules
I
It had been less than twenty minutes since she called Wade when she heard the familiar sound of his teleporter going off. Neither of them said anything for a moment, just stood there in the dark, looking at each other.
Naturally, Wade broke the silence. "Terry, I don't know who did what to get you like this, but I'm going to beat them with a crowbar when I find out."
She doesn't understand why it's such a relief to hear that. It's probably just hearing his voice again. "Wade..." she began.
"Come here. We can catch up at a diner or something. You look like you could use some food."
She managed a shaky laugh. "In yer Deadpool costume?"
Wade cocked his head to one side, confused. "So? People eat out in their work clothes all the time."
II
"So that's why you were in a bar, staring into your one-way ticket back to Boozetown?"
"Aye." Theresa leaned back against the booth and closed her eyes. She didn't want to be having this conversation. Not this soon. Not with Wade. Not in some truck stop diner after midnight. Losing the baby still felt so raw and Wade was not known for his empathy...or tact.
Wade twirled his fork in the remains of his pie as he spoke, mask pulled halfway up. He apparently came here often. "Why? Why in the name of Dunkin' Donuts did you hook up with Madrox again? I mean, he broke your heart once already with that 'Oh you really shacked up with fake me' line. I mean, if I was Multiple Pool, I'd make damn sure to keep track of my other selves...and use a condom, but that's because I don't want to pay child support. What a total creep! I'm sorry about the kid...and your dad too. He was all right for a stodgy, old Irish cop. But Jamie absorbed the baby right in front of you? Who does he think he is, an Austin Powers villain? Did he say 'Ah et a behbey' before you broke his fingers? Really wish I could have seen that, babe. Hey that reminds me of a joke! Why did the dead baby cross the road?"
Theresa covered her face with her hands as the tears started. What was she thinking? Deadpool was insane, a psychopath. There was no way he could help her through this. How could she even have considered turning to him? This wasn’t the Weismann Institute. He couldn’t save her from this.
"Because it was strapped to the-Terry...?” The fork dropped, loudly. “Oh...oh shit. You're not laughing...I just...I forgot you kind of have a higher regard for human life than me. Well, you and most other civilized human beings. Please, Terry, I'm so-"
She lashed out with her voice and her right hand. The solid impact and the way his head rocked back was strangely satisfying. "Ye...ye stupid FUCKING sod!"
"...Ow...I know. Believe me, I know.” Wade slid around to sit next to her, rubbing the right side of his face. “Just try to stop crying. I'll think of some way to-Well, I guess there's no fixing this, but if hitting me and cussing me out makes you feel better, that's fine, even if I forgot how hard you could slap a guy. Look, just...just c'mere. You look like you could use a hug."
Theresa curled into him, reluctantly. He smelled like gunsmoke and some kind of body wash. Strong fingers awkwardly rubbed her back, taking away some of her anger. She was glad the diner was mostly deserted. After awhile, Wade continued.
“Wow. That’s going right on the list of ‘Stupidest things Wilson’s ever said.’ I don’t know what the hell is-” Wade sounded bitter, angry at himself. “…Do you have anywhere to go? It‘d probably be easier if you didn‘t go back to New York for awhile.”
Thinking about tomorrow wasn’t easy when her whole world had been destroyed. It was easier just to listen to his heartbeat. To be held. “There’s always Cassidy Keep. I own it now,” she murmured.
“Well, yeah, but I don’t think a gloomy, drafty castle is a great place to start putting your life back together, Terry.” He was stroking her hair now. Neither of them stirred when the waitress cleared the plates and left the bill. “I know you'd be crazy to even consider this after what I said…but my apartment’s a two bedroom. I’m keeping some of my favorite toys in the spare one now, but I can just put them in storage or leave them with Weasel. Of course, I only have one bed. We‘ll just have to share it.”
Wade tried to be decent, she reminded herself. He just didn’t have much experience with it. Living somewhere her memories wouldn‘t torment her...The offer was tempting even if everyone would consider her mad for willingly living with Wade. Good thing she wasn't planning on telling them. “What are ye going t’ charge me for rent?”
Wade was back to his usual flippancy. “Nothing if you let me install a camera in my bathroom.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “How about I pay half the rent instead?”
“Deal. Now, can we pay the bill and go get some of your stuff before you fall asleep on me? I don’t mind being your pillow, but people sleeping sitting up tend to drool a lot.”
III
The diner coffee must have kicked in because Terry had the energy to argue again. “I’m not kickin' ye out of yer own bed, Wade. It's more than enough yer lettin' me stay here after I've been such a stranger to ye."
Wade draped a blanket over the couch and set a pillow at one end. "Just take it, Red. Between my healing factor, caffeine intake, and unrelenting nightmares, I don't sleep all that much. In fact, I usually just crash on the couch while watching the tube. Also, it would really stoke my fragile male ego to let a lady in distress have the most comfortable place to sleep."
Grieving or no, she wasn’t a “lady in distress” and letting Wade coddle her would give him the wrong idea. "As a firm believer in gender equality I have to say nae. The couch is mine until ye get that spare bedroom emptied out. Guess ye'll just have to live without yer Letterman reruns.”
"You're taking away my TV?” There was real distress in that hollow voice. “You know, Terry, a woman isn't usually allowed to completely ruin a man's life unless she's married to him. Does this mean you're proposing? If so, I'd rather you did it on one knee with a dozen roses. I'm a romantic kind of gal."
God, she’d almost forgotten how good bantering with him felt…or how much she missed their friendship. "Sorry, Wade. Forgot the ring in my other pants."
Wade crossed his arms and pouted under his mask. “My offer to share the bed still stands…even if you won‘t make an honest woman out of me.”
Theresa laid down and pulled the blankets up. For the first time since she left the hospital, it felt like everything might be all right. “Good night, Wade.”
IV
Someone gently shook her. "Terry? Teeerryyy...? Are you awake?"
“I am now.” The glare was a wasted effort and she knew it. It was probably too dark to see and Wade was unaffected by dirty looks. Some light filtered through the window and…train jammies. He was wearing train jammies.
“I had a bad dream,” Wade stage whispered. He was kneeling down next to her, clutching the blanket.
“Ye’re about to have a worse one.” She refused to laugh, damn him. It was the middle of the night. Train jammies were not that funny, even if Wade looked perfectly ridiculous in them, wearing his Deadpool mask. Where in God's name did he find...?
“I can’t get back to sleep. I figured warm milk might do the trick. So if you’re…”
“Finish that sentence and ye’re a dead man, Wade Wilson. Now, if ye actually plan on letting me sleep here, get back to bed,” Theresa snarled, all patience exhausted.
Snapping at him was more effective than glaring. Wade drew in a breath to say something and then let it out. He stood up and walked back to his room in silence. After a moment, Theresa forced herself to turn over and go back to bed. She wasn't the least bit sorry, she told herself. If he was going to make breastfeeding and dead baby jokes, he should very well expect to have his head bitten off. At least she had some peace and privacy. Theresa closed her eyes...
...And nearly tripped over him when she got up the next morning. Wade had camped out on his own living room floor, right beside the couch, still in those blasted pajamas. Terry didn't know if she wanted to kill him, let him sleep, or hug him. Two years and he hadn't changed a bit. The real question was, did she want to start this again? Wade could just as infuriating as he was endearing, with that bloody persistance of his. She looked down at him. His mask was askew, and he was clutching one of his katanas like a teddy bear. Somehow, she wasn't surprised when he started softly talking in his sleep.
Theresa smiled, shook her head, and said to herself, "If I'm going to stay here, I think we'll need to set some ground rules, Wade."
Anyway, this story takes place just after "Method in the Madness." As usual, it's unbetad. Hopefully, this time I remembered to reformat my text before posting it. *smacks forehead* I am such an LJ newb.
Title- Ground Rules
Fandom- Marvel Comics
Pairing- Deadpool/Siryn
Rating- PG-13
Genre- My usual blend of fluff, humor, and angst
Summary- Wade offers Terry a place to stay
Disclaimer- I don't own any copyrighted properties mentioned within. They belong to their copyright holders naturally.
Ground Rules
I
It had been less than twenty minutes since she called Wade when she heard the familiar sound of his teleporter going off. Neither of them said anything for a moment, just stood there in the dark, looking at each other.
Naturally, Wade broke the silence. "Terry, I don't know who did what to get you like this, but I'm going to beat them with a crowbar when I find out."
She doesn't understand why it's such a relief to hear that. It's probably just hearing his voice again. "Wade..." she began.
"Come here. We can catch up at a diner or something. You look like you could use some food."
She managed a shaky laugh. "In yer Deadpool costume?"
Wade cocked his head to one side, confused. "So? People eat out in their work clothes all the time."
II
"So that's why you were in a bar, staring into your one-way ticket back to Boozetown?"
"Aye." Theresa leaned back against the booth and closed her eyes. She didn't want to be having this conversation. Not this soon. Not with Wade. Not in some truck stop diner after midnight. Losing the baby still felt so raw and Wade was not known for his empathy...or tact.
Wade twirled his fork in the remains of his pie as he spoke, mask pulled halfway up. He apparently came here often. "Why? Why in the name of Dunkin' Donuts did you hook up with Madrox again? I mean, he broke your heart once already with that 'Oh you really shacked up with fake me' line. I mean, if I was Multiple Pool, I'd make damn sure to keep track of my other selves...and use a condom, but that's because I don't want to pay child support. What a total creep! I'm sorry about the kid...and your dad too. He was all right for a stodgy, old Irish cop. But Jamie absorbed the baby right in front of you? Who does he think he is, an Austin Powers villain? Did he say 'Ah et a behbey' before you broke his fingers? Really wish I could have seen that, babe. Hey that reminds me of a joke! Why did the dead baby cross the road?"
Theresa covered her face with her hands as the tears started. What was she thinking? Deadpool was insane, a psychopath. There was no way he could help her through this. How could she even have considered turning to him? This wasn’t the Weismann Institute. He couldn’t save her from this.
"Because it was strapped to the-Terry...?” The fork dropped, loudly. “Oh...oh shit. You're not laughing...I just...I forgot you kind of have a higher regard for human life than me. Well, you and most other civilized human beings. Please, Terry, I'm so-"
She lashed out with her voice and her right hand. The solid impact and the way his head rocked back was strangely satisfying. "Ye...ye stupid FUCKING sod!"
"...Ow...I know. Believe me, I know.” Wade slid around to sit next to her, rubbing the right side of his face. “Just try to stop crying. I'll think of some way to-Well, I guess there's no fixing this, but if hitting me and cussing me out makes you feel better, that's fine, even if I forgot how hard you could slap a guy. Look, just...just c'mere. You look like you could use a hug."
Theresa curled into him, reluctantly. He smelled like gunsmoke and some kind of body wash. Strong fingers awkwardly rubbed her back, taking away some of her anger. She was glad the diner was mostly deserted. After awhile, Wade continued.
“Wow. That’s going right on the list of ‘Stupidest things Wilson’s ever said.’ I don’t know what the hell is-” Wade sounded bitter, angry at himself. “…Do you have anywhere to go? It‘d probably be easier if you didn‘t go back to New York for awhile.”
Thinking about tomorrow wasn’t easy when her whole world had been destroyed. It was easier just to listen to his heartbeat. To be held. “There’s always Cassidy Keep. I own it now,” she murmured.
“Well, yeah, but I don’t think a gloomy, drafty castle is a great place to start putting your life back together, Terry.” He was stroking her hair now. Neither of them stirred when the waitress cleared the plates and left the bill. “I know you'd be crazy to even consider this after what I said…but my apartment’s a two bedroom. I’m keeping some of my favorite toys in the spare one now, but I can just put them in storage or leave them with Weasel. Of course, I only have one bed. We‘ll just have to share it.”
Wade tried to be decent, she reminded herself. He just didn’t have much experience with it. Living somewhere her memories wouldn‘t torment her...The offer was tempting even if everyone would consider her mad for willingly living with Wade. Good thing she wasn't planning on telling them. “What are ye going t’ charge me for rent?”
Wade was back to his usual flippancy. “Nothing if you let me install a camera in my bathroom.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “How about I pay half the rent instead?”
“Deal. Now, can we pay the bill and go get some of your stuff before you fall asleep on me? I don’t mind being your pillow, but people sleeping sitting up tend to drool a lot.”
III
The diner coffee must have kicked in because Terry had the energy to argue again. “I’m not kickin' ye out of yer own bed, Wade. It's more than enough yer lettin' me stay here after I've been such a stranger to ye."
Wade draped a blanket over the couch and set a pillow at one end. "Just take it, Red. Between my healing factor, caffeine intake, and unrelenting nightmares, I don't sleep all that much. In fact, I usually just crash on the couch while watching the tube. Also, it would really stoke my fragile male ego to let a lady in distress have the most comfortable place to sleep."
Grieving or no, she wasn’t a “lady in distress” and letting Wade coddle her would give him the wrong idea. "As a firm believer in gender equality I have to say nae. The couch is mine until ye get that spare bedroom emptied out. Guess ye'll just have to live without yer Letterman reruns.”
"You're taking away my TV?” There was real distress in that hollow voice. “You know, Terry, a woman isn't usually allowed to completely ruin a man's life unless she's married to him. Does this mean you're proposing? If so, I'd rather you did it on one knee with a dozen roses. I'm a romantic kind of gal."
God, she’d almost forgotten how good bantering with him felt…or how much she missed their friendship. "Sorry, Wade. Forgot the ring in my other pants."
Wade crossed his arms and pouted under his mask. “My offer to share the bed still stands…even if you won‘t make an honest woman out of me.”
Theresa laid down and pulled the blankets up. For the first time since she left the hospital, it felt like everything might be all right. “Good night, Wade.”
IV
Someone gently shook her. "Terry? Teeerryyy...? Are you awake?"
“I am now.” The glare was a wasted effort and she knew it. It was probably too dark to see and Wade was unaffected by dirty looks. Some light filtered through the window and…train jammies. He was wearing train jammies.
“I had a bad dream,” Wade stage whispered. He was kneeling down next to her, clutching the blanket.
“Ye’re about to have a worse one.” She refused to laugh, damn him. It was the middle of the night. Train jammies were not that funny, even if Wade looked perfectly ridiculous in them, wearing his Deadpool mask. Where in God's name did he find...?
“I can’t get back to sleep. I figured warm milk might do the trick. So if you’re…”
“Finish that sentence and ye’re a dead man, Wade Wilson. Now, if ye actually plan on letting me sleep here, get back to bed,” Theresa snarled, all patience exhausted.
Snapping at him was more effective than glaring. Wade drew in a breath to say something and then let it out. He stood up and walked back to his room in silence. After a moment, Theresa forced herself to turn over and go back to bed. She wasn't the least bit sorry, she told herself. If he was going to make breastfeeding and dead baby jokes, he should very well expect to have his head bitten off. At least she had some peace and privacy. Theresa closed her eyes...
...And nearly tripped over him when she got up the next morning. Wade had camped out on his own living room floor, right beside the couch, still in those blasted pajamas. Terry didn't know if she wanted to kill him, let him sleep, or hug him. Two years and he hadn't changed a bit. The real question was, did she want to start this again? Wade could just as infuriating as he was endearing, with that bloody persistance of his. She looked down at him. His mask was askew, and he was clutching one of his katanas like a teddy bear. Somehow, she wasn't surprised when he started softly talking in his sleep.
Theresa smiled, shook her head, and said to herself, "If I'm going to stay here, I think we'll need to set some ground rules, Wade."