Matt & Wade | Tuesday Evening (backdated)

[x-deadpool.livejournal.com]

Wade stops by Matt's room and they talk about this and that.


Matt's head pounded despite the stuff that Dr. Grey had given him and he lay curled up in bed trying to ignore the world. His room made that easy actually, with its soundproofing and air scrubber, though the fan on his laptop whirred and the bags from the stores they had visited were all on the floor against the back wall. This wasn't a migraine, he knew those, but it was a headache and it was pounding. It might very well turn into a migraine. That he could tell the difference now was progress and that he had longer periods without migraines than with was a serious improvement. That did not help him right now though.

Wade was still tired from the healing spell thing he'd helped out with, but he'd heard it through the grapevine that Matt's social worker was dragging him off to get winter clothes, so he figured the kid could probably use a little caffeine and some food by now. Which was how he found himself with vegetables and sandwiches as well as a healthy dose of Halloween candy in a bag and a couple cups of tea balanced precariously in one hand. Getting into the suite wasn't difficult, but he did pause at Matt's door and knock instead of just barging in. "Got food if you want it, kid."

The only reason that Matt replied was that it was Wade, "C'm in," he muttered, rolling over so that he was facing the door. Pushing himself into a sitting position he rubbed a hand over his newly buzzed hair. It was the longest of the clipper things that the guy had, but it was still shorter than his hair had been in a while. Since before rehab. "Sup?" he asked, smelling the food. It smelled good. That was how he knew it wasn't a migraine, if it was, he would not have wanted to eat. That he had had dinner with his social worker did not matter, he could and would eat again.

Opening the door, Wade held the food out in offering, tossing the bag onto the bed and then finding a chair to sit in so he could lean it back on two legs. "Shopping trip that bad, kid?"

Taking the food, Matt nodded, "Nah, she wasn't quick like you though. And she kept wanting me to try stuff on. And it was hot and the music was bad and people were rude and stupid...none of that was her fault though. I got to choose dinner, it was good," he took a sip of the tea then began to eat a sandwich. Yum. "It's a headache though, not a migraine. That's improvement. What about you?"

"Sorta tired still, to be honest. I'm working on not doing a whole lot of anything - Molly measured my head for a red and black hat yesterday and brought me this soup... it was like chicken noodle with hearty beef or something, I'm not quite sure. It was... interesting. I ate it all, obviously. And then I tried to explain Hitler and the Nazis to her, since they were on the History Channel, but that was kind of weird. Mostly I'm stopping by to see if I owe you an apology for saying the stuff I did on the journals," Wade's tone never changed, his body never tensed. He wasn't upset about anything, more this was just a boundary he wasn't sure he'd crossed and he figured it was best to get that figured out, all things considered.

Oh, that. "No, it's cool," Matt assured him, "I saw it and if I disagreed, I'd've stepped in. She pissed me off, but I don't think she realized it. Just because we're from the same 'hood, you know? I knew Layla when we were about 10. Well...knew of. She knew me as the kid who was always reading and studying and whose dad was a lowlife. Before I was blind. And I knew her as the girl that was in a coma. Then...yeah. She went into foster care and then I did and we haven't seen each other since," he had hoped they would be friends, but her attitude rubbed him the wrong way, "She acts like she knows me and got a clue. She don't."

Another foster kid? Jesus, Xavier collected them like other people collected snow globes. "Don't write her off completely, kid," Wade advised, shrugging. "She's new, right? Doesn't know many people, that kind of thing? I just figured somebody ought to call her on how not funny she was being. Glad I didn't step on your toes in the process."

"Yeah, she's new. Not as new as Korvus though," another one he completely did not get at all. Well, Korvus was just literal and so damn polite it was unnerving. That was different from Layla's attitude. "But yeah, I wasn't laughing. Looking stupid is something you get used to when you're blind, but getting mocked for it sucks."

Wade grinned when Matt brought Korvus up. "Dude, Korvus helped me make a VW Beetle amphibious. That car will drive on land and putter through water. It is probably my new favorite toy." Reaching over, he snagged a piece of raw broccoli and and chomped down on it almost contemplatively. "Like I said, don't write her off. Maybe she'll mellow out once she figures out she's not gonna like. Get kicked out or something. She says she makes zombies, right? That's gotta have some kind of effect on a kid's headspace or something. And it took you a little while to settle in, if I remember correctly. Didn't you try to beat me with your stick once?"

"Just a love tap," Matt mumbled around a carrot. "Do I get to drive your land-water thing?" he asked. He was still determined to learn how to drive. "And yeah, zombies. I've never seen them, but she can't raise my dad so I can ask him stuff, so it's not very useful."

Wade wasn't sure that raising Matt's dad from the dead would be such a good idea, all things considered. For one - decay. For two... the man might not have the answers the kid wanted, anyway. "Sure, you can drive the Beetle. I'll steer you toward the lake from the passenger's side."

"Awesome!" That made Matt's night. Finishing the sandwich, he got up and began to take things out of the bags to put them away. He had to keep his room clean, it was part of being blind and able to find things. "I'm not going to hit her, by the way. But it was tempting," he was mad the other day, but not anymore.

"That's good, not hitting her. Cause she probably won't get why you're hitting her, anyway. I don't think she got that what she was saying wasn't funny." Wade shrugged. He was the king of saying stupid shit to get a laugh out of people, but what he said generally did get a laugh. Or, in the case of brainwashed soldiers, it got concrete park benches chucked at his head. That was neither here nor there. "Anyway, it's part of your training - we should run through the Kata again or something tomorrow. In with the good air, our with the negativity and stuff."

"Okay," Matt liked the kata. It felt good when he did it. Like stretching sort of, but better. Centering in a way. "And yeah, I get that she won't get it. She thinks she's bad ass and all that, I get it. It's a defense mechanism. You gotta be bigger and badder than you are and never back down or admit you're wrong. Those're the rules. They change though for me, which is good because I'm not a fan of getting in peoples faces. Except that woman at the store today, I might make an exception for her, she needed some serious soap," ew. He had everything out of the bags and on his bed now, "What do you think of the stuff?"

"It's good," Wade said, looking over the selection Matt had laid out. "All in the same colors and stuff we bought that one time, so that's good. You got a good, fluffy jacket - be careful with it. If you catch it on something random, the feathers are all gonna come out. Good thing you're not allergic to feathers, huh?"

"The others were itchy," Matt explained. He was not a fan of the puffer coat, the fact that it was a 'puffer' just sounded wrong. But it was not itchy and it would definitely keep him warm. "And yeah, I tried to keep the same stuff. She thought I was silly for insisting, but I don't want to look like some rainbow man."

Wade chuckled. "Hey, it's good to keep things simple. Color here and there's cool for like, accents and stuff - apparently. I mean. I wear plaid and leather jackets a lot, so it's not like I'm some kind of fashion know-it-all. You should talk to Marie-Ange if you want actual fashion help of any kind in an emergency. But mostly I get by. I think most guys do, actually. Oh, dude - you could talk to Warren if you wanted opinions on like. Tuxedos and Armani suits and stuff. Vests - waistcoats... whatever they're called. Though he looked pretty funny in his hat with its feather at Halloween."

Why would Matt ever wear a tuxedo?! "I think I'm good, man," he replied, putting things away into drawers and his closet, "My social worker made sure I'll be warm enough and that's all that matters. And she made me get the jacket too big in case I grow more," he was 5'10" and 16 years old, he could definitely keep growing potentially.

"Warm's good," Wade said, laughing at the look on Matt's face when the word 'tuxedo' came up. "I dunno - you'll probably hit another growth spurt sometime soon. You grew a couple inches over the summer. That was the whole point of our shopping trip last time. I could see your ankles or your backside, neither of which was on my list of things to see."

"Yeah, I remember. I was always hungry," that happened whenever he had a growth spurt, "How tall are you?"

"6'2" - why?" Wade asked, still half-grinning. "Need a goal to shoot for? You're only four inches shy of it, for the moment."

"Just curious," Matt replied, "I can't remember how tall my dad was. Taller than me, but...that's obvious," he had been 13 when his dad had died. He'd been a lot shorter back then. "But yeah, that's a good goal. Maybe I'll be taller than you."

"Maybe you will be," Wade said, grinning. "And then you'll pack an even harder whack with that stick of yours when you swing it at my head - love tap my backside. You were trying to do some damage, don't even lie."

Matt shrugged, noncommittal. Yeah, he had been, but he wouldn't admit it. "I whack you too hard I'll break my stick," he joked, "It's just fiberglass, not titanium!"

"Which reminds me, we gotta get you one that is titanium," Wade said, nodding to himself as he continued to balance the chair on two legs, one arm held out to balance himself. "Maybe sometime this weekend. You need something you can use to beat the crap out of people if you need to."

"Are you back on that hitting girls thing?" Matt asked, slightly annoyed at the topic. Why was not hitting girls a bad thing!? He did not get it. Yes, there were always exceptions, but growing up in an environment where guys abused women and beat them up for fun and his father being a boxer, he thought not hitting girls was a damn good thing. "I don't know that they make titanium canes....I've never heard of one. It might have to be a custom thing..." and that would be expensive.

Wade gave Matt a funny look - it was sad the kid couldn't really appreciate the scrunchy face he made. "Kid, I am 100% behind you not hitting girls unless they really, really deserve it. I know there's all that equality stuff Kyle was talking about, but when you get right down to it, not hitting girls is on the top of my list of things that're good." That had been ingrained in him when he was a kid, mostly because his dad was such an asshole about everything. Dinner wasn't on the table at five? Mom had a black eye the next day. It was wrong and it was infuriating and there was nothing an eight year old could do about it. "Custom-made stuff's usually best, anyway."

Matt's dad hadn't been abusive, not like that, but that didn't mean he was the best guy either. They had similar backgrounds in some ways though, "Good. Because I don't intend to start." he stated vehemently. "It's also expensive," Matt protested. He disliked expensive.

Not addressing the issue of cost, Wade said, "I wonder if making a collapsible stick would ruin the integrity of the titanium..." He let himself trail off, then shrugged. "Oh well. I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually. Maybe I'll talk to Osmosis Joe about it, see what he can think up. Maybe he'll have some ideas about it that're better than what I'm thinking. I'm not much for science." He preferred knives. And guns. Which reminded him, he hadn't been out with Bea in a while. He should take her to the shooting range, show her a good time.

The mercenary rocked the chair forward so it was sitting on four legs again, then stood up. "Finish up the sandwiches and stuff, kid. You've got training tomorrow and I'm pretty sure neither me or Kyle's gonna go easy on you just cause you got dragged around shopping today." There was a smile in his voice as he headed for the door.

"See you later, Wade," Matt agreed, not worrying himself about the cane. It would happen or it wouldn't. He was betting on wouldn't, but that was fine. It was still a cool idea. "I don't expect you to go easy. Ever."