🎵 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! 🎺
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
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.