[Fic] Everything Nice part 3 - Cable/Deadpool
Title: Everything Nice 3/??
Author: Guardian
Rating: PG-13 (NC-17 overall)
Pairing: Cable/Deadpool
Timeline: sequel to Sugar & Spice
Disclaimer: written for fun, not profit.
Word count: 2,400
Summary: Wade is forbidden to stay home, so he has to make his own fun.
Previous Parts: Master post here.
"Just find him something to do," Taskmaster demanded, already exasperated with Wade's antics.
"Outlaw's already on the job, and I'm not paying Wade a cent!" Alex harrumphed.
Taskmaster groaned as another paper football hit him in the head. "Can we please send him home to his boyfriend?"
"Hey! Nate's not my boyfriend," Wade denied. "And he says I'm not allowed to go home for a while, because he's taking Hope to learn about bees and he thinks I'll do something inappropriate or irresponsible with bees."
"You? Never," Taskmaster said.
Wade flailed his arms emphatically. "That's what I said! We could have taught Hope about bee stings and anaphylactic shock!"
"Don't listen to your boyfriend - go do it anyway," Taskmaster urged.
"Nate would be really skeeved - and HEY! He's not my boyfriend!"
"Wade, a bottle of tequila couldn't make me forget the two of you making out in Central Park," Taskmaster said. "Scott Summers probably asked Wolverine to blind him after that."
"Tony, come on," Sandi scolded. "They're so cute together."
"We're not together," Wade insisted.
"Wade, you're currently living in the same house and raising a child together," Sandi said. "I don't care what you call it. Any further back into that closet and you'll be in Narnia. And you hate those beaver people."
"Argh. I do. I do. I hate those damn beavers," Wade said. "With their enormous teeth and their ungodly talent for rustic architecture."
"Here's an idea," Taskmaster interrupted. "Go build an elaborate, pressure-sensitive IED* and lay on it. If you bring me back a piece of your scapula, I'll give you a lollipop."
"I thought I was your friend, Tasky," Wade complained, draping himself dramatically over the back of the couch so his upside-down head was next to Tony's.
"Go away, Wade."
"Just ignore him," Sandi encouraged. Taskmaster sighed and tried to listen to his girlfriend's advice.
"Ohhhh, 'F' is for friends who do stuff together! 'U' is for ukelele! N is for- hrrk!" Wade gave Tony an angry glare, unable to sing with a hand strangling him.
"Wade," Sandi broke up the one-sided fight, slapping at Tony's arm until the vice-like grip was released. She pulled Wade up-right and continued speaking before his crushed trachea healed itself. "We still have a puppy situation. Remember the ones that you brought back? It would reeeeally help if you could go find them all homes."
"Puppies?" Wade frowned, rubbing his throat. "How much you willing to pay me?"
"I'm not paying you!" Alex asserted again from across the room.
"If you can sell them, you can keep the money," Sandi offered quickly.
"I'll take the case!" Wade declared.
"I'm so glad to hear that!" Sandi grinned.
"Yeah, I was worried we'd have to call in the X-Men," Taskmaster added.
Sandi grabbed Wade by the arm and led him off to a different room. "They're in here," she said, opening the door to what looked like a previously unused closet. Several puppies were curled up with each other, sleeping in a furry little pile. A few others were eating some puppy food and drinking out of a shallow dish. They eagerly perked up and headed to the open door, so that Sandi had to quickly kneel and corral them in.
"There's seven of them," Sandi explained while she scooped up little white-and-brown-spotted bundles and deposited them into a lined cardboard box. "I'm sure people will want them; they're really cute, right?"
"Cute, sure, uh-huh," Wade said, scooping up another little pupy with a rolly-polly belly.
"Ah, no-no-no," Sandi stopped him, taking the little puppy. "Outlaw wants this little guy. She likes his scrappy ear, see?" she pointed at the floppy, wounded ear that had a piece missing.
"Most of them have scrappy ears," Wade noted, peeking into the box. The puppies looked like they'd all been in a bar fight. With Wolverine.
"Yeah, but this one has a little mask, too," Sandi said, gesturing to the brown around its eyes. "She's naming him Bandit. Isn't he precious?" she gave the dog a little squeeze, and it licked its nose at Wade. "I'd take one too but my cat hates dogs." She pouted while Wade scooped up the box of squirming puppies and stuck her hand in for a quick goodbye pat. "Bye puppies! Wade's gonna make sure you all find good homes. Right Wade?"
Note... *IED = Improvised Explosive Device. XOXO, Deadpool.
//////
Wade sat on a New York curb next to a box of puppies, chin in his hand. It had been four hours and there were still two pups left, whining and playing with each other in the box.
He had stolen a cardboard sign from a sleeping bum and on the other side of the "Need money 4 booze" plea, he scrawled "Pupies 4 sale" and propped it up against a wall.
The day went by okay. Slow, but okay. Except for that incident when a mime tried to get friendly with him. Seriously, what part of having the business end of a gun pointed at you does a mime not understand? And worse, the frigging mime stuck an invisible cork in the end of his gun. Thank God he had his katanas - a little flesh wound and the mime finally takes a hint - but now he had to figure out how to get that stupid cork out of his barrel.
So, he was down to two pups. And he's made just over twenty bucks. Not from selling the dogs, but from people chucking spare change into the box. After being told to "get a real job" about ten thousand times, Wade was pretty convinced that the Hero Gigs seriously S-U-K, SUCKED.
A girl finally came up and had the decency to take one of the last remaining dogs. She looked like a hippie. Hippie chicks dig guys with dogs. Too bad she forgot to leave her number with him. How was he supposed to call her?
And that was it. Seriously. Wade Wilson and one puppy who looked like it belonged in an ASPCA commercial. It was funny, almost, because he could've sworn people went on about rescuing dogs, but this one, no one wanted to get within ten feet of. Or maybe it was him they didn't like.
Wade finally stood up - his ass hurt from sitting on the sidewalk all day, like seriously - and grabbed the box. The loose change jingled happy "spend me" noises in his pocket all the way to the nearest taco stand, and it got him about three and one sixteenth whole geniune tacos, and he found a bench to sit on with the dog so he could have his delicious tacos.
The dog was small, and a little scruffy. He was a dirty white sort of color (probably litterally just dirty) with brown spots and brown ears (one scrappy ear). Some fleas were quite happy in its fur. One eye was shut. Actually, Wade realized after all this time, the eye was probably gone. He was a quiet fellow, and he liked tacos a lot, too. He ate every bit that Wade gave him, thumping his tail in appreciation each time Wade spared so much as a gob of delicious meat-paste.
"If you like this, you'll love dog food," Wade told the one-eyed puppy.
"Hey mister," someone interrupted, walking over to peer into the box. "Are you selling that puppy?"
Wade dug his fingers into his taco again and let the one-eyed puppy lick his finger clean. "No," he said decisively. "This is my dog."
/////
Nate was... Nate wasn't sure how to accurately describe how he felt when Wade came home late (later than he'd forced Wade to stay away from the house) with a puppy in one hand and bags of dog supplies in the other hand.
Hope was thrilled.
"Is that a dog? Is it mine? What kind of dog is it? Is it a boy dog or a girl dog? Can it do tricks? What happened to its eye? Does it miss its mommy? Can it sleep in my bed? What's its name?"
"He doesn't have a name yet," Wade said. "But let me tell you, he loves tacos."
"Wade, can we talk about this, please?" Nate asked.
"Hope, do you want a dog?" Wade asked.
"Yes! Please, Dad, pleeease?"
"Two to one," Wade smirked. "You're out-voted, Nate. Democracy and all that."
"Wade, the poor thing has one eye," Nate frowned.
"You never refused anyone into Providence," Wade pouted at him pointedly.
"It has fleas, Wade."
"You let a terrorist into Providence," Wade continued.
Nate rubbed his forehead, already aware that he wasn't going to win this argument. On one hand, he reasoned, it would teach Hope responsibility. She'd have a playmate when Wade was out on a mission. And the dog would probably clean up nice enough. It was cute even now - dirty, flea-bitten, and very likely malnourished. It looked like a Brittany, which were supposed to be great with kids and very trainable. "What will we name him?"
"Bea Arthur!"
"Scooter," Hope said.
"Dogpool! Wait, wait, there's already a Dogpool. Bea Arthur!"
Hope scrunched up her face in thought. "Chancey?"
"Cyclops!"
"Wade, we're not naming the dog after my father."
"Winky!"
"How about Lucky?" Hope suggested, petting the puppy.
"I think Bea Arthur is a good name," Wade said, nodding in approval at his own idea.
Nathan planted a heavy hand on Wade's shoulder. "How about we let Hope decide?"
Hope made a face, trying hard to think. She smiled when the puppy licked her fingers and tried to wriggle into her arms. "I can't decide."
"Then wait on it for a while," Nate said. "You don't need to name him right away. Wade, what did you buy?"
"Important stuff," Wade huffed, digging into his bags. He pulled out collars - three different ones for some reason - tennis balls, bowls, a squeaky toy, a leash, a stuffed animal made to look like roadkill, a rope, a flea collar, dog treats, and a rubber bone.
"You didn't get any dog food?" Nate questioned when the bags were finally emptied.
"We'll just feed him tacos, Nate," Wade said. "It's practically the same thing for crying out loud."
"It isn't."
"Yeah, but you're such a perfectionist."
The dog was given a bath - an ordeal that ended in splashing and trying to wrangle a wet puppy with towels. Wade was sent out to get puppy food, and because of his indecision he ended up buying several different brands.
"Seriously, it was almost as bad as diapers," Wade groused while Nate and Hope struggled to towel off a hyperactive pup. "There's organic and stuff with rice, and dry vs. wet or that new refrigerated stuff, and they all taste pretty much the same. What a scam."
They put a blue collar with paw prints on the dog - the only one that wasn't enormously too big - and the flea collar as well. Clean and dried, the dog was fluffier than Wade remembered. But a clean, dry, and fluffy puppy made Nate a lot happier, so it was an acceptable disappointment.
Hope stayed up way too late playing with the little thing and tossing names out into the air to see if they sounded right. "Dinosaur? Brownie? Coop? Moxie?"
Her dads finally tucked her into bed, and the dog whined on the floor until Nate picked it up and let it join Hope.
"Thank you so much," Hope eagerly hugged and kissed both of her dads, and then sank back into bed to hug her new dog.
"Get some sleep, okay?" Nate said, petting first Hope and then the new pup.
"He's wiggly," Hope giggled, trying to keep the puppy still beside her.
Nate shut her door and went to bed, surprised to find that Wade had somehow beaten him into bed.
Wade was sprawled out on his stomach, still in uniform, a picture of exhaustion. Nate shut the door and changed quietly. All the while, Wade never stirred, even when Nate sank into bed next to him.
Nate watched Wade for a long while, and then finally lifted the mercenary's feet and removed his boots, one by one. When his feet were properly bare, Nate took a naked foot in hand and began to lightly rub the scarred flesh with his thumbs, following the curve of his ankle, the arch of his foot, the shallow dips just below his toes. Wade suddenly twitched, his foot jerking out of Nate's hand.
"Tickles," Wade mumbled, turning over onto his back.
"Sorry," Nate mentally filed that away and began to carefully work on the other foot, still succeeding in making Wade squirm. He finally let go and moved up on the bed, resting beside Wade and wishing that the costume weren't between them. He found Wade's hand and removed the glove, continuing his massage on each finger.
"Nate," Wade's throat definitely did not squeak a little when he spoke. He coughed, anyway, just because. Shaddup. "This might sound kinda stupid, but you know me.... I was wondering... 'cause uh, people were saying - not like I care what they say at all - but are we like, um, boyfriends now, in a serious way, or is there a different word? 'Cause... we're not married or anything. And unless we're in a buddy cop film, we sure as hell aren't gonna be partners. And we're not lovers... er... yet," he added, glad that his mask could hide his blush. "And we're not - I repeat - not gonna be 'special friends' or any of that other bullcrap. I mean, really. So, uh... this is a serious thing, right? A serious, long-term thing?" He bit his lip to shut up, highly aware that he sounded way too hopeful just then."
"I love you, Wade Wilson," Nate said in a voice that was way too low and sexy to be anything but completely serious and oh my gawd, were those his bedroom eyes?
"I love you, too, Nathan Christopher Priscilla Askani'son Summers," Wade babbled, trying to ignore the fact that Nate was unmasking him completely and it was freaking him out. No mask + Nate was usually okay, because Nate was his best male friend, but now Nate was his... his...? "Euwah, so this means you're my... you're my...?"
"What do you want me to be?" Nate questioned, staring contentedly at Wade's brown eyes.
"Boyfriend," Wade whispered.
Nate made a rumbling noise of approval and answered by capturing Wade in a kiss.
Author: Guardian
Rating: PG-13 (NC-17 overall)
Pairing: Cable/Deadpool
Timeline: sequel to Sugar & Spice
Disclaimer: written for fun, not profit.
Word count: 2,400
Summary: Wade is forbidden to stay home, so he has to make his own fun.
Previous Parts: Master post here.
"Just find him something to do," Taskmaster demanded, already exasperated with Wade's antics.
"Outlaw's already on the job, and I'm not paying Wade a cent!" Alex harrumphed.
Taskmaster groaned as another paper football hit him in the head. "Can we please send him home to his boyfriend?"
"Hey! Nate's not my boyfriend," Wade denied. "And he says I'm not allowed to go home for a while, because he's taking Hope to learn about bees and he thinks I'll do something inappropriate or irresponsible with bees."
"You? Never," Taskmaster said.
Wade flailed his arms emphatically. "That's what I said! We could have taught Hope about bee stings and anaphylactic shock!"
"Don't listen to your boyfriend - go do it anyway," Taskmaster urged.
"Nate would be really skeeved - and HEY! He's not my boyfriend!"
"Wade, a bottle of tequila couldn't make me forget the two of you making out in Central Park," Taskmaster said. "Scott Summers probably asked Wolverine to blind him after that."
"Tony, come on," Sandi scolded. "They're so cute together."
"We're not together," Wade insisted.
"Wade, you're currently living in the same house and raising a child together," Sandi said. "I don't care what you call it. Any further back into that closet and you'll be in Narnia. And you hate those beaver people."
"Argh. I do. I do. I hate those damn beavers," Wade said. "With their enormous teeth and their ungodly talent for rustic architecture."
"Here's an idea," Taskmaster interrupted. "Go build an elaborate, pressure-sensitive IED* and lay on it. If you bring me back a piece of your scapula, I'll give you a lollipop."
"I thought I was your friend, Tasky," Wade complained, draping himself dramatically over the back of the couch so his upside-down head was next to Tony's.
"Go away, Wade."
"Just ignore him," Sandi encouraged. Taskmaster sighed and tried to listen to his girlfriend's advice.
"Ohhhh, 'F' is for friends who do stuff together! 'U' is for ukelele! N is for- hrrk!" Wade gave Tony an angry glare, unable to sing with a hand strangling him.
"Wade," Sandi broke up the one-sided fight, slapping at Tony's arm until the vice-like grip was released. She pulled Wade up-right and continued speaking before his crushed trachea healed itself. "We still have a puppy situation. Remember the ones that you brought back? It would reeeeally help if you could go find them all homes."
"Puppies?" Wade frowned, rubbing his throat. "How much you willing to pay me?"
"I'm not paying you!" Alex asserted again from across the room.
"If you can sell them, you can keep the money," Sandi offered quickly.
"I'll take the case!" Wade declared.
"I'm so glad to hear that!" Sandi grinned.
"Yeah, I was worried we'd have to call in the X-Men," Taskmaster added.
Sandi grabbed Wade by the arm and led him off to a different room. "They're in here," she said, opening the door to what looked like a previously unused closet. Several puppies were curled up with each other, sleeping in a furry little pile. A few others were eating some puppy food and drinking out of a shallow dish. They eagerly perked up and headed to the open door, so that Sandi had to quickly kneel and corral them in.
"There's seven of them," Sandi explained while she scooped up little white-and-brown-spotted bundles and deposited them into a lined cardboard box. "I'm sure people will want them; they're really cute, right?"
"Cute, sure, uh-huh," Wade said, scooping up another little pupy with a rolly-polly belly.
"Ah, no-no-no," Sandi stopped him, taking the little puppy. "Outlaw wants this little guy. She likes his scrappy ear, see?" she pointed at the floppy, wounded ear that had a piece missing.
"Most of them have scrappy ears," Wade noted, peeking into the box. The puppies looked like they'd all been in a bar fight. With Wolverine.
"Yeah, but this one has a little mask, too," Sandi said, gesturing to the brown around its eyes. "She's naming him Bandit. Isn't he precious?" she gave the dog a little squeeze, and it licked its nose at Wade. "I'd take one too but my cat hates dogs." She pouted while Wade scooped up the box of squirming puppies and stuck her hand in for a quick goodbye pat. "Bye puppies! Wade's gonna make sure you all find good homes. Right Wade?"
Note... *IED = Improvised Explosive Device. XOXO, Deadpool.
//////
Wade sat on a New York curb next to a box of puppies, chin in his hand. It had been four hours and there were still two pups left, whining and playing with each other in the box.
He had stolen a cardboard sign from a sleeping bum and on the other side of the "Need money 4 booze" plea, he scrawled "Pupies 4 sale" and propped it up against a wall.
The day went by okay. Slow, but okay. Except for that incident when a mime tried to get friendly with him. Seriously, what part of having the business end of a gun pointed at you does a mime not understand? And worse, the frigging mime stuck an invisible cork in the end of his gun. Thank God he had his katanas - a little flesh wound and the mime finally takes a hint - but now he had to figure out how to get that stupid cork out of his barrel.
So, he was down to two pups. And he's made just over twenty bucks. Not from selling the dogs, but from people chucking spare change into the box. After being told to "get a real job" about ten thousand times, Wade was pretty convinced that the Hero Gigs seriously S-U-K, SUCKED.
A girl finally came up and had the decency to take one of the last remaining dogs. She looked like a hippie. Hippie chicks dig guys with dogs. Too bad she forgot to leave her number with him. How was he supposed to call her?
And that was it. Seriously. Wade Wilson and one puppy who looked like it belonged in an ASPCA commercial. It was funny, almost, because he could've sworn people went on about rescuing dogs, but this one, no one wanted to get within ten feet of. Or maybe it was him they didn't like.
Wade finally stood up - his ass hurt from sitting on the sidewalk all day, like seriously - and grabbed the box. The loose change jingled happy "spend me" noises in his pocket all the way to the nearest taco stand, and it got him about three and one sixteenth whole geniune tacos, and he found a bench to sit on with the dog so he could have his delicious tacos.
The dog was small, and a little scruffy. He was a dirty white sort of color (probably litterally just dirty) with brown spots and brown ears (one scrappy ear). Some fleas were quite happy in its fur. One eye was shut. Actually, Wade realized after all this time, the eye was probably gone. He was a quiet fellow, and he liked tacos a lot, too. He ate every bit that Wade gave him, thumping his tail in appreciation each time Wade spared so much as a gob of delicious meat-paste.
"If you like this, you'll love dog food," Wade told the one-eyed puppy.
"Hey mister," someone interrupted, walking over to peer into the box. "Are you selling that puppy?"
Wade dug his fingers into his taco again and let the one-eyed puppy lick his finger clean. "No," he said decisively. "This is my dog."
/////
Nate was... Nate wasn't sure how to accurately describe how he felt when Wade came home late (later than he'd forced Wade to stay away from the house) with a puppy in one hand and bags of dog supplies in the other hand.
Hope was thrilled.
"Is that a dog? Is it mine? What kind of dog is it? Is it a boy dog or a girl dog? Can it do tricks? What happened to its eye? Does it miss its mommy? Can it sleep in my bed? What's its name?"
"He doesn't have a name yet," Wade said. "But let me tell you, he loves tacos."
"Wade, can we talk about this, please?" Nate asked.
"Hope, do you want a dog?" Wade asked.
"Yes! Please, Dad, pleeease?"
"Two to one," Wade smirked. "You're out-voted, Nate. Democracy and all that."
"Wade, the poor thing has one eye," Nate frowned.
"You never refused anyone into Providence," Wade pouted at him pointedly.
"It has fleas, Wade."
"You let a terrorist into Providence," Wade continued.
Nate rubbed his forehead, already aware that he wasn't going to win this argument. On one hand, he reasoned, it would teach Hope responsibility. She'd have a playmate when Wade was out on a mission. And the dog would probably clean up nice enough. It was cute even now - dirty, flea-bitten, and very likely malnourished. It looked like a Brittany, which were supposed to be great with kids and very trainable. "What will we name him?"
"Bea Arthur!"
"Scooter," Hope said.
"Dogpool! Wait, wait, there's already a Dogpool. Bea Arthur!"
Hope scrunched up her face in thought. "Chancey?"
"Cyclops!"
"Wade, we're not naming the dog after my father."
"Winky!"
"How about Lucky?" Hope suggested, petting the puppy.
"I think Bea Arthur is a good name," Wade said, nodding in approval at his own idea.
Nathan planted a heavy hand on Wade's shoulder. "How about we let Hope decide?"
Hope made a face, trying hard to think. She smiled when the puppy licked her fingers and tried to wriggle into her arms. "I can't decide."
"Then wait on it for a while," Nate said. "You don't need to name him right away. Wade, what did you buy?"
"Important stuff," Wade huffed, digging into his bags. He pulled out collars - three different ones for some reason - tennis balls, bowls, a squeaky toy, a leash, a stuffed animal made to look like roadkill, a rope, a flea collar, dog treats, and a rubber bone.
"You didn't get any dog food?" Nate questioned when the bags were finally emptied.
"We'll just feed him tacos, Nate," Wade said. "It's practically the same thing for crying out loud."
"It isn't."
"Yeah, but you're such a perfectionist."
The dog was given a bath - an ordeal that ended in splashing and trying to wrangle a wet puppy with towels. Wade was sent out to get puppy food, and because of his indecision he ended up buying several different brands.
"Seriously, it was almost as bad as diapers," Wade groused while Nate and Hope struggled to towel off a hyperactive pup. "There's organic and stuff with rice, and dry vs. wet or that new refrigerated stuff, and they all taste pretty much the same. What a scam."
They put a blue collar with paw prints on the dog - the only one that wasn't enormously too big - and the flea collar as well. Clean and dried, the dog was fluffier than Wade remembered. But a clean, dry, and fluffy puppy made Nate a lot happier, so it was an acceptable disappointment.
Hope stayed up way too late playing with the little thing and tossing names out into the air to see if they sounded right. "Dinosaur? Brownie? Coop? Moxie?"
Her dads finally tucked her into bed, and the dog whined on the floor until Nate picked it up and let it join Hope.
"Thank you so much," Hope eagerly hugged and kissed both of her dads, and then sank back into bed to hug her new dog.
"Get some sleep, okay?" Nate said, petting first Hope and then the new pup.
"He's wiggly," Hope giggled, trying to keep the puppy still beside her.
Nate shut her door and went to bed, surprised to find that Wade had somehow beaten him into bed.
Wade was sprawled out on his stomach, still in uniform, a picture of exhaustion. Nate shut the door and changed quietly. All the while, Wade never stirred, even when Nate sank into bed next to him.
Nate watched Wade for a long while, and then finally lifted the mercenary's feet and removed his boots, one by one. When his feet were properly bare, Nate took a naked foot in hand and began to lightly rub the scarred flesh with his thumbs, following the curve of his ankle, the arch of his foot, the shallow dips just below his toes. Wade suddenly twitched, his foot jerking out of Nate's hand.
"Tickles," Wade mumbled, turning over onto his back.
"Sorry," Nate mentally filed that away and began to carefully work on the other foot, still succeeding in making Wade squirm. He finally let go and moved up on the bed, resting beside Wade and wishing that the costume weren't between them. He found Wade's hand and removed the glove, continuing his massage on each finger.
"Nate," Wade's throat definitely did not squeak a little when he spoke. He coughed, anyway, just because. Shaddup. "This might sound kinda stupid, but you know me.... I was wondering... 'cause uh, people were saying - not like I care what they say at all - but are we like, um, boyfriends now, in a serious way, or is there a different word? 'Cause... we're not married or anything. And unless we're in a buddy cop film, we sure as hell aren't gonna be partners. And we're not lovers... er... yet," he added, glad that his mask could hide his blush. "And we're not - I repeat - not gonna be 'special friends' or any of that other bullcrap. I mean, really. So, uh... this is a serious thing, right? A serious, long-term thing?" He bit his lip to shut up, highly aware that he sounded way too hopeful just then."
"I love you, Wade Wilson," Nate said in a voice that was way too low and sexy to be anything but completely serious and oh my gawd, were those his bedroom eyes?
"I love you, too, Nathan Christopher Priscilla Askani'son Summers," Wade babbled, trying to ignore the fact that Nate was unmasking him completely and it was freaking him out. No mask + Nate was usually okay, because Nate was his best male friend, but now Nate was his... his...? "Euwah, so this means you're my... you're my...?"
"What do you want me to be?" Nate questioned, staring contentedly at Wade's brown eyes.
"Boyfriend," Wade whispered.
Nate made a rumbling noise of approval and answered by capturing Wade in a kiss.