Doug & Wade | Thursday Night (backdated)

[x-deadpool.livejournal.com]

After finding out from Marie-Ange that Jubilee and Doug broke up, Wade decides he should drag Doug out of the Brownstone for some quality drinking time.

Wade waited for all of two minutes after Amanda dragged Marie-Ange out of the How is lots of alcohol going to keep me from wallowing?apartment before heading over to Doug's. Once he'd found out why Marie-Ange was being dragged away, he'd figured his friend could use some time away from the Brownstone, too. Time getting drunk.

Opening Doug's door, the mercenary didn't even bother with knocking. "Heya, Douglas. You are being kidnapped. Put some shoes on, buddy."

How appropriate that Doug had spent far too much time on 4chan recently, as he was very much feeling like he should just post the "foreveralone" image on his door or the journals, or something like that. And yet he also felt as though he shouldn't be public about it, because such a melodramatic gesture would somehow cheapen anyone's reaction, make it invalid. And yet, he didn't want to be drinking alone. And yet, he was, because he couldn't bring himself to talk to anyone so that they might see how badly he was hurting.

And yet.

And yet.

And yet.

His brain chased itself in circles so that he almost didn't hear Wade enter as he sat in his overstuffed armchair (the one that Marie-Ange could never stand, a fresh pang) with a partial sixpack sitting on his coffee table. The other part was clearly already in Doug, by the empty bottles next to it. "Probably better not be Finnegan's," he muttered. Too likely to run into other members of X-Force.

"What do you take me for, some kind of novice in the ways of getting people trashed?" Wade asked, walking over to pick up a bottle of beer. He braced the rim of the cap against the edge of the coffee table, angled it properly, and hit it with the palm of his hand, making a pleased sound when the cap popped off. Then he started digging around under the coffee table with one foot, halfway looking for Doug's shoes. "Ruffian's first, then probably Sheila's, depending on how much alcohol you're trying to keep down. Also - cheese fries. Which are delicious."

He'd need his shoes if they were going out, but to Doug even just the effort of finding them and putting them on felt rather insurmountable. "I dunno. I mean, I do stupid shit when I have too much alcohol," Doug admitted. "Well, I guess sleeping with Amanda wasn't stupid per se, but reckless, maybe? Or something." The beer might not have been the first thing Doug hit, by the way his tongue was loosened.

Wade took a sip of beer and swallowed, then look at Doug almost contemplatively. "Don't make me put you in a fireman's carry. I know I've threatened it before, but Doug my friend, I am not going to let you wallow if and I have to carry you out of here, I swear I'll do it. Drink up and then we're off."

"How is lots of alcohol going to keep me from wallowing?" Doug looked at Wade a bit owlishly. "It's a depressant, y'know." But he put his shoes on and finished his beer obediently. "Also I'm pretty good at wallowing." It was about the only thing he felt like he was any good at right that moment.

"Less emphasis on science," Wade said, finishing off his own beer in a few long pulls. "More emphasis on standing and walking. And also on getting drunk. My sparkling personality's what's going to keep you from wallowing."