🎵 Believe it or not, Hugh isn't at home 🎵 🎷 Please leave a message at the beep 🎷 🎶 I must be out, or I'd pick up the phone 🎶 🎺 Where could I be? Believe it or not, I'm not home! 🎺
[Who knew he was inviting God's most precious doomsday prepper into his home? (Except it's kind of cute. Don't expect him to admit it! And don't expect for Wade to explain why sometimes he's added to it, like maybe there's bandages with kitties on them that's found its way into a first-aid kit.)
He's framing that glowing praise, buddy.
Once he can get out of bed and isn't being crushed. You know, this isn't bad per se, but it's like of like when a panther's laying in your lap and its paw is just sort of hovering right over your groin. Like. One wrong move and pow, you're regrowing your junk for the third time this week.
As an example. Purely hypothetical.]
Nathan Cable Cableson. [Wade could shove him, probably hard enough to even send him launching, but... ugh. He's running on three hours of sleep and maybe he's incredibly soft when you dig around the hard, rotten-fish outer shell of him. Al never cuddled with him.] Don't make me do it.
[He's gonna do it! He's doing it. It's the kind of thing he comes up with as the lesser of two evils, with one just pushing Cable off -- and the second, the one he picks, just licking his cheek to wake him up.
Ew, actually.] That was way less fun than I was expecting.
[Cable is vaguely aware that Wade is speaking. He's also vaguely aware that something is licking his face. Probably a dog. Probably Wade's stupid dog that he keeps talking about, because Cable is probably just picking up on his stupid dreams. Dreams about his wrinkly dog licking his bald head.
But the squirming rouses him, because it's no longer comfortable to ignore Wade. Cable's eyes flutter open, eye glowing faintly in the dark. He has the momentary bliss of waking up, knowing he still hasn't heard his alarm. Then it's a terrible reminder of where he is.
Something's poking him.]
Why are you under me? [Tiredly, and also like Wade did this.]
Why is my face wet? [Cable swipes his hand across his face, thinking.]
[His tongue is buzzing and it's hard to determine if that's just stubble or Cable washes his face in acid. There's no questioning the bathroom habits of someone from the apocalyptic future. Maybe he doesn't even have a sink in the future. Why's he never asked if Cable has a sink? He might have lived on a horrible little homestead with a giant laser gun and... canned rations.
This is what three hours of sleep is getting him.]
Why am I -- bitch, you rolled on top of me! [It's probably a miracle, to this point, there haven't been more nights that devolve into bitchslapping, but there is something to be said about Wade coming home after having done a real, human job. It's like a dog with a job; it gets all that extra energy out.
It's not the glowing eye that's a little intimidating, it's that... oh, it seems really bad Cable repeated the question, huh?]
Uh.
[Don't blame the mold, don't blame the mold.]
A small monsoon localized entirely in our motel room? [That's not gonna work.] If your next thought is watersports, I can assure you that it's definitely not from that.
[Cable just makes a soft, hopeless sound as he wipes at his cheek. Finally and blessedly for Wade, he rolls off and drags a hand over his face and through his hair.]
Wassthetime? [He slurs it out. He should not be this tired from having a regular, human job but there's something terribly mind-numbing about it all.
And, as he gathers his bearings and realises it was his ass crushing Wade, he adds:]
[Holy shit, there's absolutely no way he should've gotten outta that. Sucker. The little breath he makes is not relief; it's mostly his lungs refilling after 300 pounds of metal is no longer crushing him into the boxspring.
You know. Okay. Hear him out. It wasn't terrible.]
It's 4:17. [How does he know?? And Wade's suffering from cuteness aggression, which is bad if his plan was to go back to sleep. He's only just holding himself back from ruffling Cable's hair. Any internal bruising's already healed, but there's likely to be more because now he's propping his head on Cable's chest to peer down at him, his folded arms making a little pillow (so much for personal space).] What's got you so goddamn exhausted, gummy bear? Seriously, I'd think even you would find a me-sized tick on your back a little annoying.
[Cable says, with the empty sadness of a man with an adult job. He doesn't even question how Wade just knows the time. Sometimes Wade just knows things.]
You're softer than you look. All the pancakes. [Gruffly, he narrows his eyes at Wade as he settles on his chest. He reaches his metal hand out and pushes at his shoulder, but there's no real fight to it. It's evident that he's not even trying because if he was, Wade would not still be there.]
Something about the monotony of it. Working. [He circles his hand vaguely.]
[He's still Marvel Jesus even if he's been tossed out of the timeline. Again. Don't worry; his powers of salvation came with him. That's why he's saving Cable from the monotony of being asleep and waking up feeling fully rested and fulfilled.
Even though he ruined that for Wade first. Wade's just that selfless.]
Whoa, I didn't know we were going in for 4 a.m. body shaming, Bucky. I don't see you complainin' when I come home with an extra stack.
[Nope, there's no commitment to that push so Wade's staying right where he is. He's taking advantage of sleepy Cable because sleepy Cable's at least nine percent less likely to try to cut his dick off, and that's a win.] Aw, never had to work a soul-sucking retail job? You just lived out the cushy, post-apocalyptic life? [He flicks a piece of Cable's hair that has fallen woefully out of place back in line.] Look, I'm only offerin' because you might not remember this conversation in the morning, but you can quit. Do something else. Blow up some schools or set fire to a kids' playground. I make plenty to keep us here.
[Mostly 'cause he steals an ungodly amount of food from work and he's already made it a bad idea for the guy owning the place to fire him. Guts for garters, etc. etc. Also because he hasn't spent his joolies on coke. Yet. Glaze is great because that shit is cheaper.]
Maybe I like you when you've got an extra stack on you. [Cable's tolerance for being in this position has timed out, so he uses his metal arm to wedge Wade off him and onto his back. He then pats his stomach in a weirdly affectionate but too bizarre to quantify manner.
Then he rolls himself forward and out of bed. He's only in trunks, so he's unfolding a pair of sweatpants to step into. Then he glances over at Wade in bed.]
I am not going to be your house husband. [His tone is dead serious.]
Do you want coffee? I don't want to talk about it without coffee. [Or with coffee.]
If I knew you were gonna be this horny at 4 A.M., I would've been the one waking you up. [He grins, rolling off like a cat who's understanding the laptime is over. But only because he agrees, obviously.
He'll take even weird doses of affection. Makes him all warm inside. He's even keeping a little journal of the times Cable's reached for him first, and circled them with hearts. That's growth.
He'll never know.]
Hey, slow down, hot stuff, I didn't even propose yet. You know some people make money doing hobbies, right? [Sweet of him to think of being a husband first. Though -- ah. Yeah. Anyway.] Look, I'm fearing for your level of hand-eye coordination right now. Sit your ass down and I'll make the coffee. Fuck knows I'm not going back to sleep now.
[He's got a shift in three hours and unlike his devil may care attitude might indicate, he does intend to keep it. Besides, the action in the back alley's been heating up lately and he's hoping to get in on it. Which is not a metaphor for an orgy, it's just your average drug trade.] Now I think about it, do you have hobbies?
[He is, in fact, pushing Cable out of the way to get to their tiny kitchenette. It might not be Nescafe, but it's gonna be close enough.] There's gotta be something more in there than reading and playing hunt-a-killer on the weekends.
Those are the same thing. [No they aren't, but do you really want to waste the energy arguing about it? Wade's already shuffled around in his little wiener-covered boxers (he picked up a pack from what he's pretty sure was a post-apocalyptic Costco) into the kitchen to start the coffee.
Doesn't take more than a few seconds for the smell to start waking him up. Mm. It's not good coffee, but something about that shitty, dime-store diner kind of coffee reminds him of the good times. Sucking it dry out of a thermos in the middle of a fucking jungle. The good ol' days.]
Pump the misogyny brakes, Cabes, I think basketweaving is pretty sick. How else do you think we carried shit before plastic? [That's just facts. History facts.
He hops onto the counter and swings his adorable, overly muscular cancerous legs, as coy as a coquette on a breezy summer's day. One might question how the fuck Wade can have energy at 4 in the morning after being flattened into a pancake by a steamroller ala Judge Doom, but -- the answer is probably the healing factor and the sheer amount of sugar he consumes on the daily at work. Pancakes are free and easy to hide in his pockets.
Wade gives him a look, the kind with a slight squint like he's clearly just said something a little insane... but Wade's also never been a parent, and that fact feels stunningly like dropping a pin into a completely empty and silent room, his legs ceasing their swings for a second.
What's it like? Having a kid? Having a family? And if he chokes, it's just a precursor to a sneeze.
He wants to fucking know so badly, though. He was so close, and even if it's gone, Cable had it. Fuck if he wants to decide whether it's easier to have it or never have. To know you never will. Doesn't matter either way.
Ah, 4 AM thoughts. Missed those. No, actually, the hell he didn't.] Man, with those pecs, the old women must love you. They'd probably pay extra for you shirtless. [Wade's the old woman in this scenario, clearly. His legs start swinging again, momentary lapse quickly quashed down again.] I'm saying you got time now. [He pauses there, then adds:] We both do. And life can't just be a series of bloody, indescribably gory murders and the character development that happens mostly off-screen in between.
[Wade flits around like he's weightless and without worries, both of which are not true. Cable sits perfectly still like he's been carved from stone, but he does lean back to look at Wade when he hops on the counter.
He also glances down at his chest, because Wade notices things about himself he doesn't care to and it seems like a revelation to him. But he shakes his head.]
It's not free time, it's borrowed. And it doesn't make sense, so it's a wonder any of us sleep. [Because he sure spends a lot of time staring at the ceiling, questioning everything he learned about time and time travel in time school.]
Something's coming for us, eventually. [And when it happens he will remind Wade that they had this conversation.]
Wow. I'll make sure I put that on your gravestone, Socrates. [Everyone's a critic. And a pessimist! And yes, Wade's firmly in that category, but he can still be exhausted by it when he hasn't drowned himself in four cups of coffee. With sweetener he bought from a crusty, bearded man behind the S-Mart.]
I sleep pretty well. [Cable's fucking warm besides the 50% metal, and he doesn't snore (badly), and Wade can pretty much sleep through anything, in any position, and has woken up half-pushed onto the floor and still had a pep in his step.
Wade looks away from Cable for a second, at some(one)thing else.] Wow. Foreshadowing.
[Sort of lazy foreshadowing, too.] I hope something does. We could use the action, and if it's a cool, bloodthirsty kaiju, there's probably enough psychos around here I could sell all its body parts to science so I can buy myself a gun.
[He's being a productive member of society, clearly.] Ooh, now we're talking! [He claps his hands and rubs them together.] Hobbies. What're we building? Nnorråker? Tornviken? Friheten wouldn't be too bad, we got room for a corner sofa if we chuck the desk.
[Yes, those are IKEA sets, and he's pronouncing them in a scarily accurate Swedish accent.]
[Cable glances out in the direction Wade is looking at and seems annoyed at himself for doing so. Or he's annoyed because Wade keeps saying Swedish names at him and he has absolutely no idea what IKEA is.]
Weapons, Wade. [He informs him gently.]
I'll make you a gun. [Surprisingly kind, so he sags back in his chair.]
Oh. [Momentary disappointment.] I really should've guessed that.
[Look, this place isn't exactly crawling with T-1000s or 800s or Kristanna Lokens (a real weakness in the world building, if you ask him), but there's definitely haunted offices and, uh... evil vending machines. Things that deserve to be shot, with really big guns.
Wade sits straight up instantly.] The machine is working! What do you want me to do, sexually harass it to go faster? [His legs are going supersonic now as they swing.] You'll really make me a gun?
[His brown eyes are big and wide, and he's looking like someone whose daddy finally brought him that G.I. Joe he wanted for Christmas.] A big one? A biiiig one! I'm thinking giant lasers, a little power dial, and a cupholder. [He slides off the cabinet to attend to the coffee -- Cable's first. Offering him a gun is no little thing, okay?] Is that three creams or four?
If you think that'll work. [Cable mutters under his breath at Wade's suggestion, then nods at his question. His animated expressions have become a little endearing to Cable. Particularly the way his eyes light up.
Makes it hard not to smile, but he resists.]
You're getting a regular gun made out of scrap. Until we can afford to buy better materials. ["We" because they're in this together.]
[He probably shouldn't have said that, because Wade's instant response is "it couldn't hurt" and sticking one of his fingers enticingly in the closest hole in the coffee machine. Which does sear the skin on his finger off, but it only smells faintly of burning human skin, and it's barely detectable over the smell of the coffee.
Wade's lips only minimally come to a pout. His eyes are still bright and shiny, though.] Okay, deal! Though I really think we can push the cupholder idea.
[It's without too much of a flourish that Wade actually pours Cable a cup of black coffee (like anyone would've guessed otherwise), and then one for himself -- though this one gets a splash of maple syrup in it.
It's not about being a stereotype. Some things are just delicious. Stop judging him.
He falls back onto the edge of the bed, stretching his long legs out.] Here. Look, I figure on my days off I can jumpstart our supply and kill a few raiders out in the Fringes. God knows there's gotta be, like, tribes of them. Half of them are probably cannibals; I'd be doing the culinary world a favour.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He's framing that glowing praise, buddy.
Once he can get out of bed and isn't being crushed. You know, this isn't bad per se, but it's like of like when a panther's laying in your lap and its paw is just sort of hovering right over your groin. Like. One wrong move and pow, you're regrowing your junk for the third time this week.
As an example. Purely hypothetical.]
Nathan Cable Cableson. [Wade could shove him, probably hard enough to even send him launching, but... ugh. He's running on three hours of sleep and maybe he's incredibly soft when you dig around the hard, rotten-fish outer shell of him. Al never cuddled with him.] Don't make me do it.
[He's gonna do it! He's doing it. It's the kind of thing he comes up with as the lesser of two evils, with one just pushing Cable off -- and the second, the one he picks, just licking his cheek to wake him up.
Ew, actually.] That was way less fun than I was expecting.
no subject
But the squirming rouses him, because it's no longer comfortable to ignore Wade. Cable's eyes flutter open, eye glowing faintly in the dark. He has the momentary bliss of waking up, knowing he still hasn't heard his alarm. Then it's a terrible reminder of where he is.
Something's poking him.]
Why are you under me? [Tiredly, and also like Wade did this.]
Why is my face wet? [Cable swipes his hand across his face, thinking.]
Why is my face wet, Wade?
no subject
This is what three hours of sleep is getting him.]
Why am I -- bitch, you rolled on top of me! [It's probably a miracle, to this point, there haven't been more nights that devolve into bitchslapping, but there is something to be said about Wade coming home after having done a real, human job. It's like a dog with a job; it gets all that extra energy out.
It's not the glowing eye that's a little intimidating, it's that... oh, it seems really bad Cable repeated the question, huh?]
Uh.
[Don't blame the mold, don't blame the mold.]
A small monsoon localized entirely in our motel room? [That's not gonna work.] If your next thought is watersports, I can assure you that it's definitely not from that.
[Nailed it.]
no subject
Wassthetime? [He slurs it out. He should not be this tired from having a regular, human job but there's something terribly mind-numbing about it all.
And, as he gathers his bearings and realises it was his ass crushing Wade, he adds:]
Sorry.
no subject
You know. Okay. Hear him out. It wasn't terrible.]
It's 4:17. [How does he know?? And Wade's suffering from cuteness aggression, which is bad if his plan was to go back to sleep. He's only just holding himself back from ruffling Cable's hair. Any internal bruising's already healed, but there's likely to be more because now he's propping his head on Cable's chest to peer down at him, his folded arms making a little pillow (so much for personal space).] What's got you so goddamn exhausted, gummy bear? Seriously, I'd think even you would find a me-sized tick on your back a little annoying.
no subject
[Cable says, with the empty sadness of a man with an adult job. He doesn't even question how Wade just knows the time. Sometimes Wade just knows things.]
You're softer than you look. All the pancakes. [Gruffly, he narrows his eyes at Wade as he settles on his chest. He reaches his metal hand out and pushes at his shoulder, but there's no real fight to it. It's evident that he's not even trying because if he was, Wade would not still be there.]
Something about the monotony of it. Working. [He circles his hand vaguely.]
Never done it before. Not like this.
no subject
[He's still Marvel Jesus even if he's been tossed out of the timeline. Again. Don't worry; his powers of salvation came with him. That's why he's saving Cable from the monotony of being asleep and waking up feeling fully rested and fulfilled.
Even though he ruined that for Wade first. Wade's just that selfless.]
Whoa, I didn't know we were going in for 4 a.m. body shaming, Bucky. I don't see you complainin' when I come home with an extra stack.
[Nope, there's no commitment to that push so Wade's staying right where he is. He's taking advantage of sleepy Cable because sleepy Cable's at least nine percent less likely to try to cut his dick off, and that's a win.] Aw, never had to work a soul-sucking retail job? You just lived out the cushy, post-apocalyptic life? [He flicks a piece of Cable's hair that has fallen woefully out of place back in line.] Look, I'm only offerin' because you might not remember this conversation in the morning, but you can quit. Do something else. Blow up some schools or set fire to a kids' playground. I make plenty to keep us here.
[Mostly 'cause he steals an ungodly amount of food from work and he's already made it a bad idea for the guy owning the place to fire him. Guts for garters, etc. etc. Also because he hasn't spent his joolies on coke. Yet. Glaze is great because that shit is cheaper.]
no subject
Then he rolls himself forward and out of bed. He's only in trunks, so he's unfolding a pair of sweatpants to step into. Then he glances over at Wade in bed.]
I am not going to be your house husband. [His tone is dead serious.]
Do you want coffee? I don't want to talk about it without coffee. [Or with coffee.]
no subject
He'll take even weird doses of affection. Makes him all warm inside. He's even keeping a little journal of the times Cable's reached for him first, and circled them with hearts. That's growth.
He'll never know.]
Hey, slow down, hot stuff, I didn't even propose yet. You know some people make money doing hobbies, right? [Sweet of him to think of being a husband first. Though -- ah. Yeah. Anyway.] Look, I'm fearing for your level of hand-eye coordination right now. Sit your ass down and I'll make the coffee. Fuck knows I'm not going back to sleep now.
[He's got a shift in three hours and unlike his devil may care attitude might indicate, he does intend to keep it. Besides, the action in the back alley's been heating up lately and he's hoping to get in on it. Which is not a metaphor for an orgy, it's just your average drug trade.] Now I think about it, do you have hobbies?
[He is, in fact, pushing Cable out of the way to get to their tiny kitchenette. It might not be Nescafe, but it's gonna be close enough.] There's gotta be something more in there than reading and playing hunt-a-killer on the weekends.
no subject
But he sits down, with his chair pointing at the kitchen so he can watch Wade from a good vantage point.]
Do you want me to start basketweaving or something? [Cable's nose wrinkles the way it does when he really doesn't like an idea.]
I was a full-time bounty hunter with an eleven year-old. I did not have time for hobbies. [He explains, as if he really needs to.]
And building shit is what got me doing menial work for old women.
no subject
Doesn't take more than a few seconds for the smell to start waking him up. Mm. It's not good coffee, but something about that shitty, dime-store diner kind of coffee reminds him of the good times. Sucking it dry out of a thermos in the middle of a fucking jungle. The good ol' days.]
Pump the misogyny brakes, Cabes, I think basketweaving is pretty sick. How else do you think we carried shit before plastic? [That's just facts. History facts.
He hops onto the counter and swings his adorable, overly muscular cancerous legs, as coy as a coquette on a breezy summer's day. One might question how the fuck Wade can have energy at 4 in the morning after being flattened into a pancake by a steamroller ala Judge Doom, but -- the answer is probably the healing factor and the sheer amount of sugar he consumes on the daily at work. Pancakes are free and easy to hide in his pockets.
Wade gives him a look, the kind with a slight squint like he's clearly just said something a little insane... but Wade's also never been a parent, and that fact feels stunningly like dropping a pin into a completely empty and silent room, his legs ceasing their swings for a second.
What's it like? Having a kid? Having a family? And if he chokes, it's just a precursor to a sneeze.
He wants to fucking know so badly, though. He was so close, and even if it's gone, Cable had it. Fuck if he wants to decide whether it's easier to have it or never have. To know you never will. Doesn't matter either way.
Ah, 4 AM thoughts. Missed those. No, actually, the hell he didn't.] Man, with those pecs, the old women must love you. They'd probably pay extra for you shirtless. [Wade's the old woman in this scenario, clearly. His legs start swinging again, momentary lapse quickly quashed down again.] I'm saying you got time now. [He pauses there, then adds:] We both do. And life can't just be a series of bloody, indescribably gory murders and the character development that happens mostly off-screen in between.
no subject
He also glances down at his chest, because Wade notices things about himself he doesn't care to and it seems like a revelation to him. But he shakes his head.]
It's not free time, it's borrowed. And it doesn't make sense, so it's a wonder any of us sleep. [Because he sure spends a lot of time staring at the ceiling, questioning everything he learned about time and time travel in time school.]
Something's coming for us, eventually. [And when it happens he will remind Wade that they had this conversation.]
I'm gonna start building shit.
no subject
I sleep pretty well. [Cable's fucking warm besides the 50% metal, and he doesn't snore (badly), and Wade can pretty much sleep through anything, in any position, and has woken up half-pushed onto the floor and still had a pep in his step.
Wade looks away from Cable for a second, at some(one)thing else.] Wow. Foreshadowing.
[Sort of lazy foreshadowing, too.] I hope something does. We could use the action, and if it's a cool, bloodthirsty kaiju, there's probably enough psychos around here I could sell all its body parts to science so I can buy myself a gun.
[He's being a productive member of society, clearly.] Ooh, now we're talking! [He claps his hands and rubs them together.] Hobbies. What're we building? Nnorråker? Tornviken? Friheten wouldn't be too bad, we got room for a corner sofa if we chuck the desk.
[Yes, those are IKEA sets, and he's pronouncing them in a scarily accurate Swedish accent.]
no subject
Weapons, Wade. [He informs him gently.]
I'll make you a gun. [Surprisingly kind, so he sags back in his chair.]
When you make me a coffee.
no subject
[Look, this place isn't exactly crawling with T-1000s or 800s or Kristanna Lokens (a real weakness in the world building, if you ask him), but there's definitely haunted offices and, uh... evil vending machines. Things that deserve to be shot, with really big guns.
Wade sits straight up instantly.] The machine is working! What do you want me to do, sexually harass it to go faster? [His legs are going supersonic now as they swing.] You'll really make me a gun?
[His brown eyes are big and wide, and he's looking like someone whose daddy finally brought him that G.I. Joe he wanted for Christmas.] A big one? A biiiig one! I'm thinking giant lasers, a little power dial, and a cupholder. [He slides off the cabinet to attend to the coffee -- Cable's first. Offering him a gun is no little thing, okay?] Is that three creams or four?
no subject
Makes it hard not to smile, but he resists.]
You're getting a regular gun made out of scrap. Until we can afford to buy better materials. ["We" because they're in this together.]
No creamer. No sugar.
pls inbox stop hiding my sexy cable tags
Wade's lips only minimally come to a pout. His eyes are still bright and shiny, though.] Okay, deal! Though I really think we can push the cupholder idea.
[It's without too much of a flourish that Wade actually pours Cable a cup of black coffee (like anyone would've guessed otherwise), and then one for himself -- though this one gets a splash of maple syrup in it.
It's not about being a stereotype. Some things are just delicious. Stop judging him.
He falls back onto the edge of the bed, stretching his long legs out.] Here. Look, I figure on my days off I can jumpstart our supply and kill a few raiders out in the Fringes. God knows there's gotta be, like, tribes of them. Half of them are probably cannibals; I'd be doing the culinary world a favour.