[Cable & Deadpool] Good Intentions (1/?)
Remember that other-C&DP-story I kept talking about writing during those last couple of bits of Dogs of War and kept asking questions for? Well, this would be it.
Title: Good Intentions
Summary: Deadpool thought killing that 'Nathan' guy was going to be a fairly routine job. He couldn't have been more wrong.
Chapter: 1/?
Characters/Pairing: Cable/Deadpool, X-Force
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6020
Warnings: Bordering on dubcon territory
Intro notes (because this is sadly not one of those stories that can get away without a lot of intro notes): AU fic, splitting from canon around New Mutants #98, a.k.a. Deadpool's very first appearance in Marvel canon, also being the first time he and Cable met. I am not sure whether, in good conscience, I can recommend people actually read that chapter if they haven't already, since we're talking Liefeld art in all its glory, and that is not the kind of imagery I'd want anyone to have in mind when reading this. All you really need to know is that Cable's still in his early days leading the New Mutants/X-Force team, and Deadpool's working for a guy who wants him dead, but when he breaks into the mansion he gets only as far as threatening Cable and having a brief fight with the kids before being shot by 'Domino' and tied up. Beyond that, I am going to be playing rather loosely with a lot of elements of the timeline - partially because it’s an AU, but also because the canonical timeline already contradicts itself in ways I cannot otherwise resolve.
So, yeah - C&DP fic set before C&DP started (and doubtless well before anyone at Marvel had ever considered giving either character a solo series, let alone an oddball team-up). If that wasn't bad enough, I may as well admit the idea is, at heart, really just a gratuitous PWP which probably wouldn’t have beyond idle speculation if it hadn’t then grown a surprisingly convoluted plot and backstory and continued to bug me until I got it down on paper. On the upside, if this does up and abandon me before I finish it, at least the first scene will stand well enough alone.
“I think we should find out exactly who we're dealing with,” he said aloud, unfolding his arms and moving towards their prisoner. Deadpool eyed every step with the jittery attention of a caged beast.
“Oooh, you want to see me without my mask on? I'm warning ya, you won't like me without my mask on. I don't think I'm the kind of girl who goes that far on a first date, Nathan-baby.”
Cable had his hand on the mask before the final word was out of his mouth, and pulled it off in one quick tug.
There were shocked gasps and murmurs from behind him. Cable pursed his lips.
Well, this was... expected, technically. Hardly less confronting for it. To his own mind at least, more warranting the judgement of 'poor sod' than 'monstrous, inhuman freak', though he'd be naïve to imagine everyone else would see it that way.
“Warned ya,” Deadpool snarled, vicious despite the way he bowed his head under the glare of all those eyes, trying to hide his face in shadows that weren't there to hide it.
It may have been the single thing that went furthest to helping Cable make up his mind.
“Leave us. I'll deal with him,” he told the others.
“Cable, he's...” Sam started to say. Either adjectives failed him, or good sense warned him before he got any further.
“I had noticed,” said Cable. “Meanwhile, in the twenty odd seconds the rest of you lasted against him, I hope you all noticed how much more training you still have to do. Now would seem a good time to start.”
The room cleared quickly after that.
Deadpool looked around warily, like he half-expected a hooded man with a box of medieval torture instruments to walk out of a bookshelf, but finding that it apparently was just him and Cable, he turned his attention back to his captor, full force.
“Alright, Nate, since it's just you and me, let's clear a few things up - what do you bet is the one thing a guy with my looks hates more than being reminded he's a freak?”
“What?” said Cable, playing along.
“Try pity,” Deadpool spat. “So if clearing out the brats wasn't your way of saving their innocent eyes the shame of me getting 'forcefully interrogated' the way real mercs handle it, I am going to be seriously pissed off.”
“Who says I pity you?” said Cable. “Or that I imagine 'forceful interrogation' is going to work on a man who keeps talking with a supposedly broken jaw?”
“Oh, suuuuure, I bet you sent the kids away because you're so taken by my good looks and charm that you wanna have your way with me right here, right now, huh, big boy?”
'Loudmouthed' did not do him justice.
Well, why do things halfway?
Cable took another step to put himself inside Deadpool's personal space, and crouched - slowly - down until he was just about on the other man's eye level.
“And what if I do?” he said, taking hold of his chin. Then he kissed Deadpool on the lips, brief but purposeful.
When he leaned back, Deadpool had taken on a haunted look. “Uh, sorry, think I was hallucinating for a sec there, what'd I miss?”
Cable smirked. He didn't let go of Deadpool's jaw. “Hallucinating or fantasising?”
“Who can tell? They're both so... that was real?”
In lieu of answering, Cable pressed another kiss to the side of his jaw, the texture of the skin there unusual, but not unpleasant. If the bone really had been broken earlier, it showed no sign.
“Aha, right, very funny,” Deadpool grumbled. “No really. Hilarious. I'm just splitting at the seams. My inside seams where no-one can see them. Joke's over.”
“Who says I'm joking?” said Cable, keeping his movements slow. The pulse in Deadpool's neck was racing now.
“Uh, I think there's been some kinda mix-up,” Deadpool tried, voice suddenly faster than even its usual rattle. “I was 'sposed to be appearing in a comic today - y'know - manly, G-rated, painfully heteronormative? Not a porno. Definitely not this porno. Wrong room. All my agent's fault. I'll just see myself out...”
“Nice try.”
“Are you sure you wouldn't rather beat me to a pulp?”
“Would you enjoy that?”
“No, but it sounds a lot better when you get back and your boss wants to know how it went!” Deadpool insisted frantically. “You remember that thing where I tried to kill you about fifteen minutes ago?”
Easy does it, Cable decided - he didn't want to make Deadpool panic. Giving the jaw one last nibble, he moved back. Instead, he brought both hands to trace the muscle of Deadpool's chest - less threatening, but thoroughly unambiguous as a statement of intent. “Clearly. I also remember how you got in undetected, and took three of my men down before they could stop you.”
“And that turns you on? Don't you heroic types have rules about molesting your prisoners?”
“That only applies when the prisoners don't want to be molested.”
“Did you stop and think maybe I don't? I'm already crazy! Nofair, messing with my head!”
“I'm quite sincere about this.” Although the fabric hid the worst from view, he could feel the same textured skin from Deadpool's face extended over the rest of his body, the rapid rise and fall of Deadpool's chest under his fingers. “And you've been thinking about it,” he added, “ever since you first laid eyes on me.”
“Bet you use that line on all your prisoners,” Deadpool muttered, indignant.
Cable let himself smile. “You thought I hadn't noticed?”
“There was nothing to...!”
A finger over Deadpool's lips was surprisingly effective in shutting him off. “You weren't in much of a rush to finish me off,” Cable reminded him. “You made quite the point of letting me know it wasn't personal.”
“Can't blame a guy for being disappointed you put up such a lousy fight - Tolliver had me thinking you were going to be an actual challenge. Just 'cause I'm a morally challenged psychopath doesn't meant I don't have professional standards to think of!”
Cable let his hands travel around to Deadpool's back, leaning in until his lips didn't quite brush the lobe of his ear. “Then it wasn't because you were thinking,” Cable let his voice drop to just about a whisper, “'a shame to have to waste such a nice piece of arse'?”
“N-no!”
“You're not,” his hands trailed lower, the inviting curve of Deadpool's own (also very nice) arse so very close now, “as subtle as you think.”
“I'm carrying enough weapons to be the next three Arnie movies by myself! Where does 'subtle' enter into it?” Deadpool twisted under his hands. “The boss never mentioned this in the mission statement!”
And that was Cable's cue to back off before Deadpool really started to panic. Bringing his hands back to safer territory, he sat back on his heels. “Let's talk about your boss,” he said. “How much is he paying you?”
Deadpool calmed down a bit - interrogation seemed to be an area he felt more comfortable with. “Is this one of those 'how much is my life worth' kind of questions? Sorry to bust your ego Nate, but it's more of a fixed salary kind of job.”
“Maybe I want to make you a better offer.”
“You want to hire me in exchange for sex?”
“A number, Deadpool.”
“Hah, then for your information, Tolliver's paying me two thousand buckos a week. Best paying gig I've had since-”
“You're lying.”
“Am not.”
“I have a better idea of what a mercenary of your calibre is worth to Tolliver than you give me credit for.”
“What are you, his Dad?”
“I'm the man who's about to offer you fifteen hundred a week to work for me.”
Deadpool froze. “Fifteen hundred? For serious?” The words escaped with a bit too much enthusiasm. Most of it faded again when he saw Cable smirking. “...you bastard.”
“Plus expenses,” Cable continued rotating his hands gently against Deadpool's sides. “Plus room and board. And... there are certain other perks I can offer you.”
Deadpool's eyes widened even further. “You are trying to hire me for sex!”
“I'm trying to hire you for money. You can consider this,” Cable spread a hand meaningfully over his chest, “incentive - to make you think twice when a real offer of two thousand comes your way.”
Deadpool squirmed a bit. “Uh, sure. It's been real, Nathan, but unfortunately for you, I really don't swing this way...”
Cable raised an eyebrow at him. Then he looked pointedly downwards. Deadpool followed his gaze to where part of his spandex costume was stretching further than it had been designed to.
“Whaaaat, that? That don't mean nothing! Deadpool Junior and me have some great times, but Nate, you're in for a world of heartbreak if you think it means anything just because he waves hello. Unless you think I also swing for public transport or a good taco or the Golden Girls or...”
“Older women turn you on too?”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“We'll get there,” said Cable, enjoying the way Deadpool's breath hitched when his hands dipped lower again.
“I'm still catching up on how we got here! Did someone forgot to send the artist one of the pages in today's script? Why is no-one noticing but me?”
“How much clearer do I need to make my intentions here?”
“Pretty clear how much of them are about putting one over the guy who just tried to kill you,” Deadpool snapped.
“Less than you might think.”
Deadpool made a noise of exasperation. “Okay, so maybe Big Deadpool and Little Deadpool don't always agree on the fine print, but let me tell you, if I was untied right now, this would be going very different.”
Cable raised an eyebrow and, unseen by Deadpool, fished a small knife out of a pocket.
The look on Deadpool's face when he realised the rope holding his hands had been cut was priceless.
“Your choice,” Cable told him.
Deadpool spent five seconds staring at his hands in furious indecision. Then he threw both arms around Cable's body and fixed his mouth viciously on Cable's neck.
“Didn't your... mother ever tell you...” he managed, between sucking kisses into Cable's skin, “it's rude to call a guy's bluff twice in one argument?”
Cable did not let the sweet sense of victory - or the decidedly interesting things Deadpool was doing to his neck - put him off his stride. “My mother was a clone created by a mad scientist, some number of centuries before the era in which I actually grew up.” He shrugged at the stunned look Deadpool gave him. “I never really knew her.”
“...you aren't gonna let me win anything, are ya?”
“You aren't making that very hard.”
“Making plenty of things hard around here on your own,” Deadpool grumbled, trying to climb into Cable's lap. Cable shifted to oblige him, and Deadpool scrambled in close, legs arriving either side of his waist so that two of those 'hard things' pressed up against each other, grinding them together in angry thrusts.
Cable let him, the last remaining doubts over an admittedly unorthodox plan falling swiftly to rest. Even with the contact dulled by several layers of fabric, Deadpool knew what he was doing.
“Just want you to know I do know what you're thinking, smartarse” Deadpool muttered, keeping control of his voice with increasing effort. “Guy like me, face like reconstituted roadkill. Even hookers probably charge double just to take his pants off. He's gotta be just about begging for it. And,” he added, panting as Cable's lips traced the underside of his chin, “let's face it - you're basically right.”
“Hm.” The patterns of heat Deadpool's hands were mapping across his back were far more interesting than anything he had to say.
“Just so you know,” Deadpool went on, “I could kill you, like, four different ways right now.”
“Only four?”
“Like four. Gimme a sec, I'll think of another one.”
I'm sure you could, Cable mused. The wiry strength evident in every muscle of Deadpool's body - in every move he made - was well worth admiring. “But you aren't going to?”
“Well. Not the kinda guy to look a gift fuck in the groin. I can kill you later.”
“Or you could take me up on my offer.”
“Could. Maybe. Maybe you could do a few more things to see if you can convince me.” If there had been any possible doubt about what kind of things he had in mind, a downward wiggle of his hips settled the matter.
Cable smirked into his next kiss. “Now you're getting the idea. What do you say we move this somewhere more comfortable than the library floor?”
“There's a table?” said Deadpool hopefully.
“I have a room down the corridor.”
Deadpool leaned back to look at him. “Sure you wanna trust me to get that far without changing my mind about whether this was a really dumb idea after all?” The angry edge to Deadpool's voice showed no sign of fading.
He had a point - even a short walk down a corridor was enough to rid the situation of a good deal of its spur-of-the-moment plausible deniability, from his perspective. Cable shifted backwards and palmed Deadpool through his pants. “I'll take my chances.”
“...that is so cheating,” Deadpool panted.
“Trust me,” Cable told him. “I'll make it worth your while.”
“Worst euphemism for 'bend you over the nearest surface and hope the kids won't walk in' I ever heard,” Deadpool grumbled, failing not to sound just a little bit hopeful about the prospect.
“I thought you wanted be the one bending me over?” said Cable, innocently.
Deadpool make what could only be fairly described as 'a noise'.
“I... what? You mean... but that was just... you were serious?”
“I could be. If you want me to be.”
Deadpool appeared to experience some momentary trouble remembering how to close his jaw.
“...where did you say your room was?” he managed.
Cable grinned and got to his feet, pulling Deadpool with him.
***
'Just down the corridor' had been a slight exaggeration, especially counting a stop at a bathroom cupboard to find a container of hand lotion, but Deadpool (somewhat uncharacteristically) didn't comment. Possibly he was still having trouble with his jaw. Or was having too much trouble getting his eyes off Cable's behind to notice how far they'd gone.
Cable let him close the door behind them, and stripped out of his shirt without turning around.
“You have a lot of guts turning your back on a guy who tried to kill you once already today,” Deadpool observed. He sounded a little bit distracted, and a little bit in awe.
“I could say the same about a man who broke into a building full of powerful mutants.”
Deadpool shrugged. “I grow back. Pretty sure you don't.”
Cable filed that under 'things to talk about later', and dropped his hands to his pants.
Under Deadpool's scrutiny, he may have spent a little more time and effort on the task of removing them than he needed to.
“Getting undressed?” he prompted. “Or did you want me to do that for you?”
“Do you want me undressed?” said Deadpool, pointing to his face. “It doesn't get better further down.”
“What you're wearing looks like a one-piece job, is this going to get any further otherwise?” said Cable, meeting his eye. “Show me.”
Muttering obscenities at his costume, Deadpool pulled off his gloves, then grabbed the top of his costume and yanked it down to his hips. He glared up at Cable, daring him to comment.
“Well?” he snapped.
It was a moment too late that Cable realised that forcing Deadpool to put himself on display like this may have been his first real mistake. The shame Deadpool felt about his appearance ran deep - far too deep to be the sort of wound he could risk opening lightly. And he could only imagine how any hollow sentiments suggesting it didn't look as bad as any fool could have seen it did would be received. Probably the only option he had left was not to notice it at all.
Cable stepped forward, making no attempt to school his expression beyond open-minded curiosity, and trailed a hand slowly down Deadpool's chest, exploring the texture he'd felt through his clothing. “Well now we're getting somewhere?” he offered, mildly.
The tension in Deadpool's shoulders relaxed only very slightly. “Y'know, this makes a lot more sense if you've got some kind of fetish for freaks.”
Cable raised an eyebrow. “A few minutes ago I was taking advantage of your desperation. Now I'm after you for fetish fuel?”
“No-one said it can't be both!”
Cable rolled his eyes, then cupped Deadpool's chin with a hand.
“I'm not going to tell you it's your most attractive feature, but if you hadn't noticed, half my torso is made of metal. You'd be amazed how many people don't find that a turn-on either.”
“...huhh.” The way Deadpool eyed his left arm, almost like he hadn't even noticed it until now, suggested he wasn't going to be one of them.
“Besides,” Cable added, smirking as his wandering hands pulled Deadpool closer, “I'm counting on you to more than make up for it in other departments.”
“Oh sure, just heap the pressure on a guy,” Deadpool muttered, but now the indignation from a minute ago had all but been replaced with breathless wonder.
“You're doing fine so far,” Cable told him, “Now, do I get a first name, or am I going to be calling you 'Deadpool' while you take me?”
There was a sharp intake of breath in response, quieter than last time but still much louder than breathing generally required. “Wade. Name's Wade.” Cable had the passing impression he was lucky Deadpool had remembered this. “You really were serious about the part where I get to fuck you...”
In answer, Cable sat back on the bed, spreading himself backwards, thoroughly aware of Deadpool's - Wade's - eyes on him the whole time. He reached for the hand lotion.
“You'll have to give me a minute,” he explained, starting to prepare himself with two fingers. “Despite all your insinuations, I haven't done this in a while.”
Cable must have blinked then, because he completely missed Wade getting rid of his pants. The next thing that mattered was Wade climbing on to the bed, motions awkward as though he was being drawn by unseen forces - or perhaps more aptly, as though he was half-afraid Cable might stop fucking himself with his fingers if he startled him. He seemed locked in indecision over what he wanted to touch first, or whether he was allowed to touch at all.
Cable could only imagine how he must look right now, the expression on Wade's face almost as good as a mirror.
“Or did you want to take care of this part?” he asked innocently, holding out the lube.
Wade snatched it from him, and quickly had it spread over both shaking hands, and some of the bed sheets. He used one hand to take hold of his cock with a groan, smearing it liberally with fluid. Cable was only too happy to let Wade take over opening him up with the other - he was at a much better angle for the job, taking to what Cable hadn't counted on him seeing as more than an unfortunate necessity with real enthusiasm. Interesting.
But not worth dragging out.
“Ready when you are,” he told Wade (it was a much more fitting name for the scarred and insecure but reassuringly human creature who'd emerged from Deadpool's costume), who responded by drawing out his fingers, rendered silent for the first time in the whole process. His hands settled on Cable's thighs as he lined himself up, massaging the muscle nervously.
They both hissed at the first contact, the head of Wade's cock pressing that first inch inside, the full girth significantly larger than the fingers had been (and he hadn't been exaggerating - it had been a while, long enough to make him take a moment to remember how to make this work). Wade's hiss turned into a whine as he slowly slid further in. A minute later he still hadn't moved further, and Cable was struck by the realisation that he was the one adjusting to the sensation fastest out of the two of them.
“Been a while for you too?” he asked, amused.
“S-shut up!” Wade snapped, thrusting the rest of the way in one quick movement, then pausing to groan. “If we're counting,” he added, voice strained, “since the last time a hot mutant hero wannabe with a fantastic arse tied me up and seduced me into fucking him through his own bed, then yes, it has been a while!”
He punctuated middle of the statement with an angry, sudden thrust, which nevertheless hit just the right spot inside Cable with unerring accuracy, and ensured it took several seconds after for Cable to assemble the whole sentence accurately. It hadn't been his intention to make Wade angry with him this far into things (indignant, put-upon anger of the protest-too-much variety or otherwise) - he wouldn't have thought that a good idea when they'd advanced far beyond teasing - but if that was any indication, apparently there were unexpected advantages to come with it.
Cable shifted a little on the bed, finding a position to give Wade the best access as he began to thrust raggedly.
“Any minute now,” Wade muttered, disbelieving, words emerging even more unevenly than his movements, “I'm gonna wake up and find out this is all a crazy wet dream and the boss is gonna want to know what all those stains on the mug-shot of you are meant to be...”
“A photo of me?” That made sense; Deadpool had had no trouble identifying him.
“Didn't... didn't do you justice... Did I say that out loud?”
“Didn't hear a thing,” Cable growled, rapidly losing all interest in teasing him. “More.”
It was the first suggestion that night Wade took to without the slightest hint of contrariness.
“Damn, this - place,” he stammered out a minute later, “full of all those kids - you even bother to think what you're gonna tell them 'bout what you did with the big scary merc you caught sneaking down the chimney...?”
“I'll tell them I packaged you up and sent you home. By mail.” Cable didn't even know where this was coming from anymore - just the weird superstition that if he didn't keep Wade talking he'd stop moving too.
Wade snickered. “Oh you bastard. Gonna get your fifteen hundred a week out of me without letting me leave your room, that the plan?”
It didn't sound like a bad plan, which said a lot - maybe a bit too much - about the state of Cable's mind at that point. Much more of this and he'd be making Wade sound coherent.
Wade was giving the distinct impression he could do this all night. Or come to pieces five seconds from now, and Cable didn't know which of those prospects he liked more.
“Did I mention,” Wade began again, “really not how I was expecting to spend the evening.”
“Glad you didn't get to kill me?” Getting a hand on his own cock - trying to jerk it in time with Wade's erratic rhythm - was almost too much on its own.
“Might be... might be seeing an upside or two. Oh, fuck...” From the sudden burst of uneven speed Wade put on, the way his eyes were fixed on Cable's hand, the sight of what Cable was doing to himself was doing nearly as much again for Wade as well.
Cable caught the side of his face in a hand and nudged Wade to look up at his face. “Believe it,” he pronounced. “This is real.”
The pronouncement alone wasn't what sent Wade over the edge, but it did mark his last attempt to say anything coherent of more than one syllable for the rest of the way. There were snatches of swearwords, variants on Cable's name, breaking off into deep-throated moans. All his attention was going into pounding himself into Cable as hard as he could.
For himself, Cable no longer found any inclination to do more than lean back and let Wade have him, the promise of release to come coiling tight inside him.
It had to be something of a miracle he outlasted Wade at all in the end - and then only by less than a minute. The sight of Wade - this fascinatingly twisted man - coming so completely apart while still buried deep inside him was breathtaking all on its own.
They both spent a while catching their breath afterwards before anyone moved.
Wade pulled himself out at last in one short tug that made them both wince, sat there panting some more for about five seconds, and then fell face-first down on to Cable's chest. The weight of his body was heavy but warm and comfortable; finding the willpower to mop the worst of the semen off his chest (excluding what Wade was lying in) and find something to cover them both with so they didn't wake up freezing later was more effort than it should have been.
“So we'll discuss the details of your contract with me later then?” Cable whispered to him.
Wade made an unclear noise that was probably some kind of threat, and appeared to go to sleep.
Cable got only halfway through trying to decide when he'd last had sex that good before following. (Certainly not as simple an answer as 'when he'd last been with another man', and certainly, the danger of the whole proposition had been some of the appeal...)
If he developed unrealistic expectations of Wade in the near future, it wouldn't be without basis.
***
Cable managed to disentangle himself from his still-sleeping bedmate without incident when he woke the next morning, fished up the previous day's pants from beside the bed and made his way to the kitchen. Deserted at this hour, for several minutes there was no sound but the kettle boiling stubbornly. Cable let his mind wander, content to allow himself a slow morning for once.
The noise didn't quite mask the sound of quiet footsteps making their way up behind him, and did nothing to soften the sound of a gun being cocked at his head.
There was another click a second later, but it was just the kettle - finally freed the effects of proverbial scrutiny - choosing that moment to announce it was done.
Cable straightened, but didn't try to turn around yet. “Morning, Wade. Coffee?”
“Yeah, no.” Wade did not sound pleased. “How 'bout instead we have a little talk about what the fuck that was supposed to be last night?”
Cable turned around, slowly, using the excuse of acting casual to avoid making any sudden movements. “You didn't seem to mind at the time.”
“At the time the blood wasn't exactly rushing to my brain, if you get what I'm saying here.” Wade was fully dressed in his costume - even the mask, which he must have had to go back to the library to retrieve. Given that he'd also found where his weapons had been stored, that probably hadn't required much of a detour.
“I thought I made myself clear? I want you,” Cable leaned back against the counter, “to work for me. And I'm willing to make it worth your while.”
“Yeah, got that,” Deadpool sneered. “What I don't get is how you get from that to where you're making it with a total stranger who just tried to shoot you in the head.”
Cable smirked, and gave Deadpool a heated look. “It worked out. Didn't it?”
“You didn't know it would,” Deadpool snapped, “and I got these issues with the idea of working with a guy who is, as far as I can tell, crazier than me! Who the fuck tries something like that?”
It was a little too late to realise the mistake it had been to leave Wade to wake up alone. Best to make the most of the situation - let him get his doubts in the open, and deal with them before they had any more time to fester. The irony was that Wade's concerns weren't ridiculous, or even unfounded - Cable had simply not counted on him to protest quite this much.
“Would you believe I got a fortune cookie telling me to look forward to a visit from a troubled stranger who was not what he seemed?” he suggested.
“Hey, I once got one that said I'd 'find spiritual peace after finding my centre where I'd never expected'. Don't see me running off to the Himalayas and opening up my knees to see if that's where my little black heart was hiding itself, do you? Try again.”
Apparently Cable was going to have to resort to the truth. Or at least, a version of events containing enough truth to sound convincing. “I consider myself a good judge of people.”
“Meaning?”
“I'm a mind reader.”
“Nice try, but I got a doctor's note saying I don't have to do that class.”
“Oh?”
“This bit up here,” Wade tapped his head with his free hand, “regenerates all the time along with the rest of me. S'what gives me my superhuman attention span, in case you were wondering. Psycho types can't get in.”
Now that was interesting. “I was wondering - I've rarely encountered a mind as hard to get a grip on as yours. Your thoughts keep... shifting. Fragments and images under a thick haze.”
Wade's gun dropped a fraction under a startled look, he seemed to be trying to decide whether Cable was bullshitting him.
“Emotional reactions, though - those I can skim off the surface. Even from you. I was very sure about what went through your mind when you first saw me,” Cable reminded him. “And being seen without your mask on bothers you a lot more than you wanted to admit, doesn't it?”
The gun clicked back into its previous position. “Y'know, reminding me how ripe I was for you to take advantage of ain't helping your case much.”
“Wade,” said Cable looking calmly at the gun, “for all the show you're putting on, I'm fairly confident you're not the kind of man who'd kill someone he's just slept with.”
“...okay, maybe, you have a point,” Wade allowed grudgingly, tightening his fingers around the gun, “but I might also be the kinda guy who gets an itchy trigger finger when he's angry and who thinks there's no reason you couldn't finish this chat with a couple of bullets in your legs.”
The edge of the bench under Cable's arms seemed suddenly sharper. “I'll keep that in mind,” he said, grimacing just a little. “But what I said about your emotional state from yesterday I only meant as an example. I didn't ask you to work for me because you were easy, Wade. I did it because my instinct tells me you'd be worth the investment.”
“Uh-huh,” Wade did not sound any more convinced, “so for everyone who's just tuned in, are these your hippie new-age psychic instincts, or is this coming from somewhere below the belt? 'Cause either way, they're setting ya up for a world of disappointment.”
“You think you're not worth it?”
“...have I told you how much I fucking hate you yet today?”
Cable decided to ignore that. “Tell me, why are you working for Tolliver?”
Wade shrugged. “Good pay, good hours, lots of mindless violence, which I happen to be pretty good at - and it's not like I need a job that comes with a dental plan.”
“Then it's never occurred to you that you could be a lot more than a well-paid thug?”
“Oh, I could be your well-paid thug?”
“In a word, yes. In more words, if you think an arms dealer like Tolliver is one and the same as a man trying to give a new generation of mutants the skills the world is going to need in times ahead, you're going to find the work I have in mind for you something of a surprise.”
“All sounds like the same package to me.”
“Then you'll be in for an even bigger surprise. You have a gift, Wade. What you paid for it,” here Cable's eyes dropped back to Wade's skin, the way he twitched under the gaze suggesting Cable's guess was on point, “doesn't change that. What makes you so sure the state of your skin and your talent for murder define all you can do with it?”
“The backup career in classical ballet came apart when they told me no-one was making tutus to fit hips like mine,” Wade spat. “You had that one at 'talent'. Not interested in your twelve-step-program to not being a chump.”
“There's no program. There's just me.” Cable took a step forward, his chest pressing right against the barrel of the gun. “Since you're determined to make this difficult, I'm going to be straight with you on this. You want to know why I'm taking chances with a man of questionable morals working on an enemy's pay check, and I'm answering: because I want to see what you do with the opportunity to take a better class of work. I can't force you to rehabilitate, and I don't have time for charity cases. I'm under no illusions about how far a man like you should be trusted, which is why I'm going out of my way to give you extra incentive not to double-cross me. What I'm going to give you in exchange is a chance to surprise me.”
“And if I don't?” Wade sounded unmoved. “Living down to expectations is kinda my speciality.”
“Then you're still making more money than what your present boss is paying you,” Cable pointed out, evenly, “and I'm sure I can still find ways to make use of you.”
“Y'know, one thing you haven't covered yet,” Wade said, pointedly, “is what happens if I take all your fifteen-hundred-a-week-plus-perks-and-say, go fuck yourself.”
“You walk out of here, and we never mention this again.”
For several seconds, nothing happened, save for the face under the Deadpool mask crunching even deeper into angry indecision. The gun didn't budge.
“If you need some time to think about it...” Cable offered. It was hard to tell whether Wade's silence was a good sign or a bad one. “I'm not forcing you to give me a definite answer here and now.”
“Uh-huh. Time. Sure.” The gun flicked back into a holster at Wade's side, and Cable started breathing a little more deeply again. “Sounds like a great offer, seriously. Tell you what, Nathan - don't call me, I'll call you.”
The kitchen door rattled for several seconds behind him. The footsteps in the corridor faded in the direction of the nearest exit.
Cable stared into the bottom of a still-empty coffee mug, and went to check whether the water had gone cold yet.
Well, that could have gone better. Could have gone worse - he hadn't actually been shot, in any vital or non-vital places. He had to consider the possibility he'd come on a little too strong.
He could credit himself with giving Wade plenty of food for thought, at least. And, he remembered with a satisfied smirk, quite a night as well.
Chapter 2
Title: Good Intentions
Summary: Deadpool thought killing that 'Nathan' guy was going to be a fairly routine job. He couldn't have been more wrong.
Chapter: 1/?
Characters/Pairing: Cable/Deadpool, X-Force
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6020
Warnings: Bordering on dubcon territory
Intro notes (because this is sadly not one of those stories that can get away without a lot of intro notes): AU fic, splitting from canon around New Mutants #98, a.k.a. Deadpool's very first appearance in Marvel canon, also being the first time he and Cable met. I am not sure whether, in good conscience, I can recommend people actually read that chapter if they haven't already, since we're talking Liefeld art in all its glory, and that is not the kind of imagery I'd want anyone to have in mind when reading this. All you really need to know is that Cable's still in his early days leading the New Mutants/X-Force team, and Deadpool's working for a guy who wants him dead, but when he breaks into the mansion he gets only as far as threatening Cable and having a brief fight with the kids before being shot by 'Domino' and tied up. Beyond that, I am going to be playing rather loosely with a lot of elements of the timeline - partially because it’s an AU, but also because the canonical timeline already contradicts itself in ways I cannot otherwise resolve.
So, yeah - C&DP fic set before C&DP started (and doubtless well before anyone at Marvel had ever considered giving either character a solo series, let alone an oddball team-up). If that wasn't bad enough, I may as well admit the idea is, at heart, really just a gratuitous PWP which probably wouldn’t have beyond idle speculation if it hadn’t then grown a surprisingly convoluted plot and backstory and continued to bug me until I got it down on paper. On the upside, if this does up and abandon me before I finish it, at least the first scene will stand well enough alone.
- Well sheez, it's not like we're lovers or nothin'! The guy just cuts the pay-checks and I cut the throats.
- Deadpool discussing his then-employer - actual quote from X-Force #2
“I think we should find out exactly who we're dealing with,” he said aloud, unfolding his arms and moving towards their prisoner. Deadpool eyed every step with the jittery attention of a caged beast.
“Oooh, you want to see me without my mask on? I'm warning ya, you won't like me without my mask on. I don't think I'm the kind of girl who goes that far on a first date, Nathan-baby.”
Cable had his hand on the mask before the final word was out of his mouth, and pulled it off in one quick tug.
There were shocked gasps and murmurs from behind him. Cable pursed his lips.
Well, this was... expected, technically. Hardly less confronting for it. To his own mind at least, more warranting the judgement of 'poor sod' than 'monstrous, inhuman freak', though he'd be naïve to imagine everyone else would see it that way.
“Warned ya,” Deadpool snarled, vicious despite the way he bowed his head under the glare of all those eyes, trying to hide his face in shadows that weren't there to hide it.
It may have been the single thing that went furthest to helping Cable make up his mind.
“Leave us. I'll deal with him,” he told the others.
“Cable, he's...” Sam started to say. Either adjectives failed him, or good sense warned him before he got any further.
“I had noticed,” said Cable. “Meanwhile, in the twenty odd seconds the rest of you lasted against him, I hope you all noticed how much more training you still have to do. Now would seem a good time to start.”
The room cleared quickly after that.
Deadpool looked around warily, like he half-expected a hooded man with a box of medieval torture instruments to walk out of a bookshelf, but finding that it apparently was just him and Cable, he turned his attention back to his captor, full force.
“Alright, Nate, since it's just you and me, let's clear a few things up - what do you bet is the one thing a guy with my looks hates more than being reminded he's a freak?”
“What?” said Cable, playing along.
“Try pity,” Deadpool spat. “So if clearing out the brats wasn't your way of saving their innocent eyes the shame of me getting 'forcefully interrogated' the way real mercs handle it, I am going to be seriously pissed off.”
“Who says I pity you?” said Cable. “Or that I imagine 'forceful interrogation' is going to work on a man who keeps talking with a supposedly broken jaw?”
“Oh, suuuuure, I bet you sent the kids away because you're so taken by my good looks and charm that you wanna have your way with me right here, right now, huh, big boy?”
'Loudmouthed' did not do him justice.
Well, why do things halfway?
Cable took another step to put himself inside Deadpool's personal space, and crouched - slowly - down until he was just about on the other man's eye level.
“And what if I do?” he said, taking hold of his chin. Then he kissed Deadpool on the lips, brief but purposeful.
When he leaned back, Deadpool had taken on a haunted look. “Uh, sorry, think I was hallucinating for a sec there, what'd I miss?”
Cable smirked. He didn't let go of Deadpool's jaw. “Hallucinating or fantasising?”
“Who can tell? They're both so... that was real?”
In lieu of answering, Cable pressed another kiss to the side of his jaw, the texture of the skin there unusual, but not unpleasant. If the bone really had been broken earlier, it showed no sign.
“Aha, right, very funny,” Deadpool grumbled. “No really. Hilarious. I'm just splitting at the seams. My inside seams where no-one can see them. Joke's over.”
“Who says I'm joking?” said Cable, keeping his movements slow. The pulse in Deadpool's neck was racing now.
“Uh, I think there's been some kinda mix-up,” Deadpool tried, voice suddenly faster than even its usual rattle. “I was 'sposed to be appearing in a comic today - y'know - manly, G-rated, painfully heteronormative? Not a porno. Definitely not this porno. Wrong room. All my agent's fault. I'll just see myself out...”
“Nice try.”
“Are you sure you wouldn't rather beat me to a pulp?”
“Would you enjoy that?”
“No, but it sounds a lot better when you get back and your boss wants to know how it went!” Deadpool insisted frantically. “You remember that thing where I tried to kill you about fifteen minutes ago?”
Easy does it, Cable decided - he didn't want to make Deadpool panic. Giving the jaw one last nibble, he moved back. Instead, he brought both hands to trace the muscle of Deadpool's chest - less threatening, but thoroughly unambiguous as a statement of intent. “Clearly. I also remember how you got in undetected, and took three of my men down before they could stop you.”
“And that turns you on? Don't you heroic types have rules about molesting your prisoners?”
“That only applies when the prisoners don't want to be molested.”
“Did you stop and think maybe I don't? I'm already crazy! Nofair, messing with my head!”
“I'm quite sincere about this.” Although the fabric hid the worst from view, he could feel the same textured skin from Deadpool's face extended over the rest of his body, the rapid rise and fall of Deadpool's chest under his fingers. “And you've been thinking about it,” he added, “ever since you first laid eyes on me.”
“Bet you use that line on all your prisoners,” Deadpool muttered, indignant.
Cable let himself smile. “You thought I hadn't noticed?”
“There was nothing to...!”
A finger over Deadpool's lips was surprisingly effective in shutting him off. “You weren't in much of a rush to finish me off,” Cable reminded him. “You made quite the point of letting me know it wasn't personal.”
“Can't blame a guy for being disappointed you put up such a lousy fight - Tolliver had me thinking you were going to be an actual challenge. Just 'cause I'm a morally challenged psychopath doesn't meant I don't have professional standards to think of!”
Cable let his hands travel around to Deadpool's back, leaning in until his lips didn't quite brush the lobe of his ear. “Then it wasn't because you were thinking,” Cable let his voice drop to just about a whisper, “'a shame to have to waste such a nice piece of arse'?”
“N-no!”
“You're not,” his hands trailed lower, the inviting curve of Deadpool's own (also very nice) arse so very close now, “as subtle as you think.”
“I'm carrying enough weapons to be the next three Arnie movies by myself! Where does 'subtle' enter into it?” Deadpool twisted under his hands. “The boss never mentioned this in the mission statement!”
And that was Cable's cue to back off before Deadpool really started to panic. Bringing his hands back to safer territory, he sat back on his heels. “Let's talk about your boss,” he said. “How much is he paying you?”
Deadpool calmed down a bit - interrogation seemed to be an area he felt more comfortable with. “Is this one of those 'how much is my life worth' kind of questions? Sorry to bust your ego Nate, but it's more of a fixed salary kind of job.”
“Maybe I want to make you a better offer.”
“You want to hire me in exchange for sex?”
“A number, Deadpool.”
“Hah, then for your information, Tolliver's paying me two thousand buckos a week. Best paying gig I've had since-”
“You're lying.”
“Am not.”
“I have a better idea of what a mercenary of your calibre is worth to Tolliver than you give me credit for.”
“What are you, his Dad?”
“I'm the man who's about to offer you fifteen hundred a week to work for me.”
Deadpool froze. “Fifteen hundred? For serious?” The words escaped with a bit too much enthusiasm. Most of it faded again when he saw Cable smirking. “...you bastard.”
“Plus expenses,” Cable continued rotating his hands gently against Deadpool's sides. “Plus room and board. And... there are certain other perks I can offer you.”
Deadpool's eyes widened even further. “You are trying to hire me for sex!”
“I'm trying to hire you for money. You can consider this,” Cable spread a hand meaningfully over his chest, “incentive - to make you think twice when a real offer of two thousand comes your way.”
Deadpool squirmed a bit. “Uh, sure. It's been real, Nathan, but unfortunately for you, I really don't swing this way...”
Cable raised an eyebrow at him. Then he looked pointedly downwards. Deadpool followed his gaze to where part of his spandex costume was stretching further than it had been designed to.
“Whaaaat, that? That don't mean nothing! Deadpool Junior and me have some great times, but Nate, you're in for a world of heartbreak if you think it means anything just because he waves hello. Unless you think I also swing for public transport or a good taco or the Golden Girls or...”
“Older women turn you on too?”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“We'll get there,” said Cable, enjoying the way Deadpool's breath hitched when his hands dipped lower again.
“I'm still catching up on how we got here! Did someone forgot to send the artist one of the pages in today's script? Why is no-one noticing but me?”
“How much clearer do I need to make my intentions here?”
“Pretty clear how much of them are about putting one over the guy who just tried to kill you,” Deadpool snapped.
“Less than you might think.”
Deadpool made a noise of exasperation. “Okay, so maybe Big Deadpool and Little Deadpool don't always agree on the fine print, but let me tell you, if I was untied right now, this would be going very different.”
Cable raised an eyebrow and, unseen by Deadpool, fished a small knife out of a pocket.
The look on Deadpool's face when he realised the rope holding his hands had been cut was priceless.
“Your choice,” Cable told him.
Deadpool spent five seconds staring at his hands in furious indecision. Then he threw both arms around Cable's body and fixed his mouth viciously on Cable's neck.
“Didn't your... mother ever tell you...” he managed, between sucking kisses into Cable's skin, “it's rude to call a guy's bluff twice in one argument?”
Cable did not let the sweet sense of victory - or the decidedly interesting things Deadpool was doing to his neck - put him off his stride. “My mother was a clone created by a mad scientist, some number of centuries before the era in which I actually grew up.” He shrugged at the stunned look Deadpool gave him. “I never really knew her.”
“...you aren't gonna let me win anything, are ya?”
“You aren't making that very hard.”
“Making plenty of things hard around here on your own,” Deadpool grumbled, trying to climb into Cable's lap. Cable shifted to oblige him, and Deadpool scrambled in close, legs arriving either side of his waist so that two of those 'hard things' pressed up against each other, grinding them together in angry thrusts.
Cable let him, the last remaining doubts over an admittedly unorthodox plan falling swiftly to rest. Even with the contact dulled by several layers of fabric, Deadpool knew what he was doing.
“Just want you to know I do know what you're thinking, smartarse” Deadpool muttered, keeping control of his voice with increasing effort. “Guy like me, face like reconstituted roadkill. Even hookers probably charge double just to take his pants off. He's gotta be just about begging for it. And,” he added, panting as Cable's lips traced the underside of his chin, “let's face it - you're basically right.”
“Hm.” The patterns of heat Deadpool's hands were mapping across his back were far more interesting than anything he had to say.
“Just so you know,” Deadpool went on, “I could kill you, like, four different ways right now.”
“Only four?”
“Like four. Gimme a sec, I'll think of another one.”
I'm sure you could, Cable mused. The wiry strength evident in every muscle of Deadpool's body - in every move he made - was well worth admiring. “But you aren't going to?”
“Well. Not the kinda guy to look a gift fuck in the groin. I can kill you later.”
“Or you could take me up on my offer.”
“Could. Maybe. Maybe you could do a few more things to see if you can convince me.” If there had been any possible doubt about what kind of things he had in mind, a downward wiggle of his hips settled the matter.
Cable smirked into his next kiss. “Now you're getting the idea. What do you say we move this somewhere more comfortable than the library floor?”
“There's a table?” said Deadpool hopefully.
“I have a room down the corridor.”
Deadpool leaned back to look at him. “Sure you wanna trust me to get that far without changing my mind about whether this was a really dumb idea after all?” The angry edge to Deadpool's voice showed no sign of fading.
He had a point - even a short walk down a corridor was enough to rid the situation of a good deal of its spur-of-the-moment plausible deniability, from his perspective. Cable shifted backwards and palmed Deadpool through his pants. “I'll take my chances.”
“...that is so cheating,” Deadpool panted.
“Trust me,” Cable told him. “I'll make it worth your while.”
“Worst euphemism for 'bend you over the nearest surface and hope the kids won't walk in' I ever heard,” Deadpool grumbled, failing not to sound just a little bit hopeful about the prospect.
“I thought you wanted be the one bending me over?” said Cable, innocently.
Deadpool make what could only be fairly described as 'a noise'.
“I... what? You mean... but that was just... you were serious?”
“I could be. If you want me to be.”
Deadpool appeared to experience some momentary trouble remembering how to close his jaw.
“...where did you say your room was?” he managed.
Cable grinned and got to his feet, pulling Deadpool with him.
***
'Just down the corridor' had been a slight exaggeration, especially counting a stop at a bathroom cupboard to find a container of hand lotion, but Deadpool (somewhat uncharacteristically) didn't comment. Possibly he was still having trouble with his jaw. Or was having too much trouble getting his eyes off Cable's behind to notice how far they'd gone.
Cable let him close the door behind them, and stripped out of his shirt without turning around.
“You have a lot of guts turning your back on a guy who tried to kill you once already today,” Deadpool observed. He sounded a little bit distracted, and a little bit in awe.
“I could say the same about a man who broke into a building full of powerful mutants.”
Deadpool shrugged. “I grow back. Pretty sure you don't.”
Cable filed that under 'things to talk about later', and dropped his hands to his pants.
Under Deadpool's scrutiny, he may have spent a little more time and effort on the task of removing them than he needed to.
“Getting undressed?” he prompted. “Or did you want me to do that for you?”
“Do you want me undressed?” said Deadpool, pointing to his face. “It doesn't get better further down.”
“What you're wearing looks like a one-piece job, is this going to get any further otherwise?” said Cable, meeting his eye. “Show me.”
Muttering obscenities at his costume, Deadpool pulled off his gloves, then grabbed the top of his costume and yanked it down to his hips. He glared up at Cable, daring him to comment.
“Well?” he snapped.
It was a moment too late that Cable realised that forcing Deadpool to put himself on display like this may have been his first real mistake. The shame Deadpool felt about his appearance ran deep - far too deep to be the sort of wound he could risk opening lightly. And he could only imagine how any hollow sentiments suggesting it didn't look as bad as any fool could have seen it did would be received. Probably the only option he had left was not to notice it at all.
Cable stepped forward, making no attempt to school his expression beyond open-minded curiosity, and trailed a hand slowly down Deadpool's chest, exploring the texture he'd felt through his clothing. “Well now we're getting somewhere?” he offered, mildly.
The tension in Deadpool's shoulders relaxed only very slightly. “Y'know, this makes a lot more sense if you've got some kind of fetish for freaks.”
Cable raised an eyebrow. “A few minutes ago I was taking advantage of your desperation. Now I'm after you for fetish fuel?”
“No-one said it can't be both!”
Cable rolled his eyes, then cupped Deadpool's chin with a hand.
“I'm not going to tell you it's your most attractive feature, but if you hadn't noticed, half my torso is made of metal. You'd be amazed how many people don't find that a turn-on either.”
“...huhh.” The way Deadpool eyed his left arm, almost like he hadn't even noticed it until now, suggested he wasn't going to be one of them.
“Besides,” Cable added, smirking as his wandering hands pulled Deadpool closer, “I'm counting on you to more than make up for it in other departments.”
“Oh sure, just heap the pressure on a guy,” Deadpool muttered, but now the indignation from a minute ago had all but been replaced with breathless wonder.
“You're doing fine so far,” Cable told him, “Now, do I get a first name, or am I going to be calling you 'Deadpool' while you take me?”
There was a sharp intake of breath in response, quieter than last time but still much louder than breathing generally required. “Wade. Name's Wade.” Cable had the passing impression he was lucky Deadpool had remembered this. “You really were serious about the part where I get to fuck you...”
In answer, Cable sat back on the bed, spreading himself backwards, thoroughly aware of Deadpool's - Wade's - eyes on him the whole time. He reached for the hand lotion.
“You'll have to give me a minute,” he explained, starting to prepare himself with two fingers. “Despite all your insinuations, I haven't done this in a while.”
Cable must have blinked then, because he completely missed Wade getting rid of his pants. The next thing that mattered was Wade climbing on to the bed, motions awkward as though he was being drawn by unseen forces - or perhaps more aptly, as though he was half-afraid Cable might stop fucking himself with his fingers if he startled him. He seemed locked in indecision over what he wanted to touch first, or whether he was allowed to touch at all.
Cable could only imagine how he must look right now, the expression on Wade's face almost as good as a mirror.
“Or did you want to take care of this part?” he asked innocently, holding out the lube.
Wade snatched it from him, and quickly had it spread over both shaking hands, and some of the bed sheets. He used one hand to take hold of his cock with a groan, smearing it liberally with fluid. Cable was only too happy to let Wade take over opening him up with the other - he was at a much better angle for the job, taking to what Cable hadn't counted on him seeing as more than an unfortunate necessity with real enthusiasm. Interesting.
But not worth dragging out.
“Ready when you are,” he told Wade (it was a much more fitting name for the scarred and insecure but reassuringly human creature who'd emerged from Deadpool's costume), who responded by drawing out his fingers, rendered silent for the first time in the whole process. His hands settled on Cable's thighs as he lined himself up, massaging the muscle nervously.
They both hissed at the first contact, the head of Wade's cock pressing that first inch inside, the full girth significantly larger than the fingers had been (and he hadn't been exaggerating - it had been a while, long enough to make him take a moment to remember how to make this work). Wade's hiss turned into a whine as he slowly slid further in. A minute later he still hadn't moved further, and Cable was struck by the realisation that he was the one adjusting to the sensation fastest out of the two of them.
“Been a while for you too?” he asked, amused.
“S-shut up!” Wade snapped, thrusting the rest of the way in one quick movement, then pausing to groan. “If we're counting,” he added, voice strained, “since the last time a hot mutant hero wannabe with a fantastic arse tied me up and seduced me into fucking him through his own bed, then yes, it has been a while!”
He punctuated middle of the statement with an angry, sudden thrust, which nevertheless hit just the right spot inside Cable with unerring accuracy, and ensured it took several seconds after for Cable to assemble the whole sentence accurately. It hadn't been his intention to make Wade angry with him this far into things (indignant, put-upon anger of the protest-too-much variety or otherwise) - he wouldn't have thought that a good idea when they'd advanced far beyond teasing - but if that was any indication, apparently there were unexpected advantages to come with it.
Cable shifted a little on the bed, finding a position to give Wade the best access as he began to thrust raggedly.
“Any minute now,” Wade muttered, disbelieving, words emerging even more unevenly than his movements, “I'm gonna wake up and find out this is all a crazy wet dream and the boss is gonna want to know what all those stains on the mug-shot of you are meant to be...”
“A photo of me?” That made sense; Deadpool had had no trouble identifying him.
“Didn't... didn't do you justice... Did I say that out loud?”
“Didn't hear a thing,” Cable growled, rapidly losing all interest in teasing him. “More.”
It was the first suggestion that night Wade took to without the slightest hint of contrariness.
“Damn, this - place,” he stammered out a minute later, “full of all those kids - you even bother to think what you're gonna tell them 'bout what you did with the big scary merc you caught sneaking down the chimney...?”
“I'll tell them I packaged you up and sent you home. By mail.” Cable didn't even know where this was coming from anymore - just the weird superstition that if he didn't keep Wade talking he'd stop moving too.
Wade snickered. “Oh you bastard. Gonna get your fifteen hundred a week out of me without letting me leave your room, that the plan?”
It didn't sound like a bad plan, which said a lot - maybe a bit too much - about the state of Cable's mind at that point. Much more of this and he'd be making Wade sound coherent.
Wade was giving the distinct impression he could do this all night. Or come to pieces five seconds from now, and Cable didn't know which of those prospects he liked more.
“Did I mention,” Wade began again, “really not how I was expecting to spend the evening.”
“Glad you didn't get to kill me?” Getting a hand on his own cock - trying to jerk it in time with Wade's erratic rhythm - was almost too much on its own.
“Might be... might be seeing an upside or two. Oh, fuck...” From the sudden burst of uneven speed Wade put on, the way his eyes were fixed on Cable's hand, the sight of what Cable was doing to himself was doing nearly as much again for Wade as well.
Cable caught the side of his face in a hand and nudged Wade to look up at his face. “Believe it,” he pronounced. “This is real.”
The pronouncement alone wasn't what sent Wade over the edge, but it did mark his last attempt to say anything coherent of more than one syllable for the rest of the way. There were snatches of swearwords, variants on Cable's name, breaking off into deep-throated moans. All his attention was going into pounding himself into Cable as hard as he could.
For himself, Cable no longer found any inclination to do more than lean back and let Wade have him, the promise of release to come coiling tight inside him.
It had to be something of a miracle he outlasted Wade at all in the end - and then only by less than a minute. The sight of Wade - this fascinatingly twisted man - coming so completely apart while still buried deep inside him was breathtaking all on its own.
They both spent a while catching their breath afterwards before anyone moved.
Wade pulled himself out at last in one short tug that made them both wince, sat there panting some more for about five seconds, and then fell face-first down on to Cable's chest. The weight of his body was heavy but warm and comfortable; finding the willpower to mop the worst of the semen off his chest (excluding what Wade was lying in) and find something to cover them both with so they didn't wake up freezing later was more effort than it should have been.
“So we'll discuss the details of your contract with me later then?” Cable whispered to him.
Wade made an unclear noise that was probably some kind of threat, and appeared to go to sleep.
Cable got only halfway through trying to decide when he'd last had sex that good before following. (Certainly not as simple an answer as 'when he'd last been with another man', and certainly, the danger of the whole proposition had been some of the appeal...)
If he developed unrealistic expectations of Wade in the near future, it wouldn't be without basis.
***
Cable managed to disentangle himself from his still-sleeping bedmate without incident when he woke the next morning, fished up the previous day's pants from beside the bed and made his way to the kitchen. Deserted at this hour, for several minutes there was no sound but the kettle boiling stubbornly. Cable let his mind wander, content to allow himself a slow morning for once.
The noise didn't quite mask the sound of quiet footsteps making their way up behind him, and did nothing to soften the sound of a gun being cocked at his head.
There was another click a second later, but it was just the kettle - finally freed the effects of proverbial scrutiny - choosing that moment to announce it was done.
Cable straightened, but didn't try to turn around yet. “Morning, Wade. Coffee?”
“Yeah, no.” Wade did not sound pleased. “How 'bout instead we have a little talk about what the fuck that was supposed to be last night?”
Cable turned around, slowly, using the excuse of acting casual to avoid making any sudden movements. “You didn't seem to mind at the time.”
“At the time the blood wasn't exactly rushing to my brain, if you get what I'm saying here.” Wade was fully dressed in his costume - even the mask, which he must have had to go back to the library to retrieve. Given that he'd also found where his weapons had been stored, that probably hadn't required much of a detour.
“I thought I made myself clear? I want you,” Cable leaned back against the counter, “to work for me. And I'm willing to make it worth your while.”
“Yeah, got that,” Deadpool sneered. “What I don't get is how you get from that to where you're making it with a total stranger who just tried to shoot you in the head.”
Cable smirked, and gave Deadpool a heated look. “It worked out. Didn't it?”
“You didn't know it would,” Deadpool snapped, “and I got these issues with the idea of working with a guy who is, as far as I can tell, crazier than me! Who the fuck tries something like that?”
It was a little too late to realise the mistake it had been to leave Wade to wake up alone. Best to make the most of the situation - let him get his doubts in the open, and deal with them before they had any more time to fester. The irony was that Wade's concerns weren't ridiculous, or even unfounded - Cable had simply not counted on him to protest quite this much.
“Would you believe I got a fortune cookie telling me to look forward to a visit from a troubled stranger who was not what he seemed?” he suggested.
“Hey, I once got one that said I'd 'find spiritual peace after finding my centre where I'd never expected'. Don't see me running off to the Himalayas and opening up my knees to see if that's where my little black heart was hiding itself, do you? Try again.”
Apparently Cable was going to have to resort to the truth. Or at least, a version of events containing enough truth to sound convincing. “I consider myself a good judge of people.”
“Meaning?”
“I'm a mind reader.”
“Nice try, but I got a doctor's note saying I don't have to do that class.”
“Oh?”
“This bit up here,” Wade tapped his head with his free hand, “regenerates all the time along with the rest of me. S'what gives me my superhuman attention span, in case you were wondering. Psycho types can't get in.”
Now that was interesting. “I was wondering - I've rarely encountered a mind as hard to get a grip on as yours. Your thoughts keep... shifting. Fragments and images under a thick haze.”
Wade's gun dropped a fraction under a startled look, he seemed to be trying to decide whether Cable was bullshitting him.
“Emotional reactions, though - those I can skim off the surface. Even from you. I was very sure about what went through your mind when you first saw me,” Cable reminded him. “And being seen without your mask on bothers you a lot more than you wanted to admit, doesn't it?”
The gun clicked back into its previous position. “Y'know, reminding me how ripe I was for you to take advantage of ain't helping your case much.”
“Wade,” said Cable looking calmly at the gun, “for all the show you're putting on, I'm fairly confident you're not the kind of man who'd kill someone he's just slept with.”
“...okay, maybe, you have a point,” Wade allowed grudgingly, tightening his fingers around the gun, “but I might also be the kinda guy who gets an itchy trigger finger when he's angry and who thinks there's no reason you couldn't finish this chat with a couple of bullets in your legs.”
The edge of the bench under Cable's arms seemed suddenly sharper. “I'll keep that in mind,” he said, grimacing just a little. “But what I said about your emotional state from yesterday I only meant as an example. I didn't ask you to work for me because you were easy, Wade. I did it because my instinct tells me you'd be worth the investment.”
“Uh-huh,” Wade did not sound any more convinced, “so for everyone who's just tuned in, are these your hippie new-age psychic instincts, or is this coming from somewhere below the belt? 'Cause either way, they're setting ya up for a world of disappointment.”
“You think you're not worth it?”
“...have I told you how much I fucking hate you yet today?”
Cable decided to ignore that. “Tell me, why are you working for Tolliver?”
Wade shrugged. “Good pay, good hours, lots of mindless violence, which I happen to be pretty good at - and it's not like I need a job that comes with a dental plan.”
“Then it's never occurred to you that you could be a lot more than a well-paid thug?”
“Oh, I could be your well-paid thug?”
“In a word, yes. In more words, if you think an arms dealer like Tolliver is one and the same as a man trying to give a new generation of mutants the skills the world is going to need in times ahead, you're going to find the work I have in mind for you something of a surprise.”
“All sounds like the same package to me.”
“Then you'll be in for an even bigger surprise. You have a gift, Wade. What you paid for it,” here Cable's eyes dropped back to Wade's skin, the way he twitched under the gaze suggesting Cable's guess was on point, “doesn't change that. What makes you so sure the state of your skin and your talent for murder define all you can do with it?”
“The backup career in classical ballet came apart when they told me no-one was making tutus to fit hips like mine,” Wade spat. “You had that one at 'talent'. Not interested in your twelve-step-program to not being a chump.”
“There's no program. There's just me.” Cable took a step forward, his chest pressing right against the barrel of the gun. “Since you're determined to make this difficult, I'm going to be straight with you on this. You want to know why I'm taking chances with a man of questionable morals working on an enemy's pay check, and I'm answering: because I want to see what you do with the opportunity to take a better class of work. I can't force you to rehabilitate, and I don't have time for charity cases. I'm under no illusions about how far a man like you should be trusted, which is why I'm going out of my way to give you extra incentive not to double-cross me. What I'm going to give you in exchange is a chance to surprise me.”
“And if I don't?” Wade sounded unmoved. “Living down to expectations is kinda my speciality.”
“Then you're still making more money than what your present boss is paying you,” Cable pointed out, evenly, “and I'm sure I can still find ways to make use of you.”
“Y'know, one thing you haven't covered yet,” Wade said, pointedly, “is what happens if I take all your fifteen-hundred-a-week-plus-perks-and-say, go fuck yourself.”
“You walk out of here, and we never mention this again.”
For several seconds, nothing happened, save for the face under the Deadpool mask crunching even deeper into angry indecision. The gun didn't budge.
“If you need some time to think about it...” Cable offered. It was hard to tell whether Wade's silence was a good sign or a bad one. “I'm not forcing you to give me a definite answer here and now.”
“Uh-huh. Time. Sure.” The gun flicked back into a holster at Wade's side, and Cable started breathing a little more deeply again. “Sounds like a great offer, seriously. Tell you what, Nathan - don't call me, I'll call you.”
The kitchen door rattled for several seconds behind him. The footsteps in the corridor faded in the direction of the nearest exit.
Cable stared into the bottom of a still-empty coffee mug, and went to check whether the water had gone cold yet.
Well, that could have gone better. Could have gone worse - he hadn't actually been shot, in any vital or non-vital places. He had to consider the possibility he'd come on a little too strong.
He could credit himself with giving Wade plenty of food for thought, at least. And, he remembered with a satisfied smirk, quite a night as well.
Chapter 2