There was an America's Next Top Model marathon on the TV, but Deadpool wasn't paying it any attention. There was an overly affectionate kitten in his lap, and he was only petting it distractedly, ignoring the other kitten who was attempting to gnaw is ankle off.
He was just... waiting.
Quietly.
Patiently.
This could not bode well.
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There was -- perhaps -- a quick glimpse of Nate, squatted on the couch, arms crossed and looking at Wade with a sympathetic expression.
But he faded again, just as quick.
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"You're hurt, Aly," He said in a softer tone. "I'm fine with getting hurt so you all don't have to be, I just... This is worse, okay?"
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"No more solo shit for anyone, okay? We get our asses kicked, we do it together."
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She looked up, worry in her eyes. "What's wrong with Arashi?"
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"Nothing's wrong with him," Deadpool replied, a touch defensively.
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That was bad.
"Did you explain the note?"
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"'sides, don't even know if that's not just me having another nervous breakdown. They come and go."
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