Rated M for relatively graphic violence, lascivious and sexual talk, and the dropping of several F-bombs. Similar in crudeness and tone to the movie. Hope y'all enjoy!
Wade Wilson didn't actually want to die; but he was sure as fuck ready for it.
Yep. This whole dying thing was taking forever. Especially since Wade was so good at fighting.
Didn't help that his healing factor got turned back on a minute ago by an instinctively redirected round from that sweet as ass rifle from the future. Courtesy the guy who was currently beating his face in with what may have been the rustiest pipe it had ever been Wade's ultimate misfortune to have knock his front teeth out.
A hazard of the job that happened more often than he'd like to admit. Though, since he was usually wearing the Deadpool mask when some hopped up whack job swung at him, he usually just swallowed them and pretended regrowing beautiful, perfect adult incisors didn't hurt. And that he hadn't just had them knocked out.
This case though, he let the crumbly remains of his pearly whites sit on his tongue, swimming in a quick growing pool of mouth blood for the perfect moment to-
Haha! Got him right in the eyes! Or, eye anyway.
Ooh, he loved the look on the weirdo's face when the cyber guy wiped Wade's Dentine Surprise(tm) out of his baby blue and saw chips of human teeth all over his burly, gloved hand. Unfortunately, it probably hurt Wade more than it did him when the salt and pepper dude who at least still had hair straight up Pitch Slapped him to the ground with the gooey, sharp mess.
Wade got the last laugh on that one though, he thought with an out of breath chortle. Hoping the stupid, built as hell, pediatric-assassin liked cancer cells flooding his mucus membranes! Though, it was moments exactly like that Wade almost wished he had a little HIV to spread around.
Sharing was caring, after all. And whoever this bozo thought he was looked like he could use a lot of caring in his life about then.
Guy'd look a lot friendlier if he'd just smile more. And put down the big lead fist he was raising for more than just a love tap that time.
Though that shining metal arm wasn't pulling any of its punches, Wade was pretty sure the chiseled face attached to it was —let's be honest here— eye fucking him harder and harder as the fight went on.
It was his ass, wasn't it. The gaudy prison jumpsuit really brought out the bubbly shape he'd worked long and hard to perfect.
Had to be why this Cyborg wannabe child murderer couldn't keep his hands off it. Or from kicking it. Really hard.
"Working through some serious pent up sexual aggression there, huh buddy?" At the 'what the fuck' pause that got him, Wade regrew his last tooth and put it to good use in a lascivious smile. "You are exactly the guy I wouldn't wanna run into on a late night 'oops, I forgot to buy milk before fucking midnight and it sure as shit can't wait till morning' milk run." At the further disturbed look that got him, the guy who's floating ribs were getting the chance to stop floating through his liver affected a thoughtful frown and went on.
"Unless you had a fresh, self lubricating jimmy hat on you. And when I say fresh, I don't mean the one you've been carrying around in your wallet since senior year of community college." Wade switched back to the winning smile as the guy with a vendetta against life itself made a weird snarly noise somewhere in his sinus area and started stalking toward him. "I mean the one you just bought in the mini mart before following little old me down the dingy alley I like to take to cut back home because you saw me in the dairy isle, on that big bubbly security mirror they keep near the front, from where you'd been ogling the frozen foods and you wanted to see for yourself whether things were really, considerably larger than they appear."
The last couple words were just a bit choked off as the Robotnic who might not have appreciated being accused of wanting to stalk and subsequently make sweet, sweet dubiously consensual alley love in a law abiding, hot as shit, milk drinker grabbed Wade by the throat and squeezed. Hard.
"Yeah, buddy, great way to prove your not into the kinky stuff," Wade more lip-synced than said. Considering his windpipe and voice box had just been crushed by that rippling, unnaturally alluring, gunmetal grey death machine with a well formed bicep.
Judging by the narrowing of both a shiny and a slightly still blood and tooth remnant covered eye, Mr. Frownypantz could read lips just fine.
So instead of doing something to deter Wade from his current line of inquiry, the bad boy with an obvious hard on for the guy with the obviously useless throat picked Wade off the ground —mostly by the throat too— and shish kebobbed him onto what had to be the second rustiest pipe Wade had ever hated saying a bloody 'hello' to.
"Don't try to tell me this isn't a sex thing for you, 'cause I can always see the lies in my lovers eyes!" Wade said. Thankful that his voice came back just as that frustrated set of definitely getting pink eye from all that blood eyes tore themselves from his captivating, ruggedly handsome face.
Doubly thankful when the last words at least got the super soldier to pause before up and leaving him there. Right where Mr. I'm Coming Back To Come For You Later wanted him.
Tetanus laced pipe sticking alluringly over a foot through his solar plexus.
Yeah, Wade thought as he sighed a nice death rattle to himself, he had been figuring he'd end up dying in this shit hole within the next few weeks of the wonderful, terminal cancer he'd been gifted with. If not even sooner by the hospitality of his new prison buddies. And if neither of those things panned out soon enough for his liking, he could always go the way of the ancient samurai, who, when dishonored, would hang themselves from a fluorescent light fixture.
If he could just get his hand on some rope. Oh, but all the lights were too high to reach with a stupid rope. So maybe he'd have to fling himself off one of those extremely poorly thought out, very fling yourself offable staircases they had everywhere instead.
It almost made him think whoever'd designed the place must've wanted people to kill themselves by way of the highly tempting flinging staircases.
But, alas: Wade had his stupid healing powers back and could hear the dulcet stains of his underage, practically prepubescent cellmate screaming in fright for his life. So he yanked himself off the BDSM skewer and went to once again confront his future, 'accidental' back alley, late night milk run, just forceful enough to be extremely torrid, encounter buddy about the dangers of denying yourself what it was in life that you really wanted.
Which, Wade was pretty sure, was his very own sweet, sweet, tight enough to bounce a Suzan B. Anthony dollar coin off ass.
If not just a candlelit dinner somewhere private enough that Mr. Roboto could have his way with him after some well done steaks and a half bottle of eighty proof whiskey.
Man that homicidal, Full-on Metal Jacket guy had some weird fantasies.
Wade couldn't wait for their star crossed reunion.
"Wait for me, Gunnery Sergeant Hartman! You can yell at the new recruits all you want, but don't shoot the kid!"
Hi there, denizens of earth. Hopefully.
I got challenged (by a friend, don't worry) to write a one thousand word Deadpool/Cable fic and my brain churned this piece of work out around five anti meridian. So I figured I'd post it online and see how things worked out.
Hope everything's quiet on the Eastern front! And that everyone's having a great weekend!
I could probably write a follow up if folks are interested! :D Feel free to let me know if you are!