Kurt & Wade | Friday Night (slightly backdated)

[x-deadpool.livejournal.com]

Kurt stops by Wade's suite at the mansion with a bottle of homemade liquor and they blow off a little bit of steam before heavy topics arise and the conversation gets a little more serious.

"Wade!" Kurt called through the door, knocking again. "Open the door. I have alcohol."

Wade put his karambit down and headed over to the suite door, pulling it open with raised eyebrows. "It's like 'open sesame' only made from all-grain wheat-mash."

"Quality all-grain wheat-mash", Kurt assured him, lifting the bottle in proof. "I have not seen you for a while, so I thought to change that."

"Works for me," Wade said, gesturing the other man into the room, lips quirking faintly. "Excuse the knives all over the table. I'm cleaning some of them before taking them to the brownstone."

"Your room, your knives", Kurt said easily, eyeing them with more appreciation than anything. "And those are very fine knives. Preparing the brownstone for... eventualities?"

"That's a nice way of putting it," Wade said, sitting down at the table again and picking up the karambit to continue sharpening and cleaning it. "Glasses are in the kitchen in the cabinet next to the fridge. How's Jubes? I've been in and out of the brownstone lately but I always seem to miss her."

Kurt put down his bottle and wandered over to fetch the glasses. "She has not been leaving her apartment very much, so you would likely not have seen her in the hall. She is recovering, enough to be getting back to paperwork, get bored and demand amusement."

"I saw that," Wade said, smiling a little. He pushed his chair back from the table a bit and ran through a few slashes with the karambit, then tested the balance as he moved into a horizontal jugular slice and pull. "I was glad to hear she hadn't been hurt too badly. Artie worried me, though. It's lucky Amanda's as good at what she does as she is."

Kurt nodded, returning to the living room. "A broken wrist and some stitches, nothing that will even take too long to heal. And Artie... yes. That could have been a great deal worse without Amanda and a suitable source for her power."

Putting the knife down, Wade slid up to the table again and nodded to the chair across from him. He didn't comment on the topic of where Amanda had drawn the power from, figuring his opinion might not be completely shared - Kurt was an X-Man, after all, and they had that whole 'no killing' rule. Wade didn't have that rule, really, and he felt nothing but a faint sense of satisfaction that the people who'd attacked the brownstone were dead. Enough said. "Marie-Ange is doing pretty well, herself. Out of her sling today."

Kurt himself was more flexible when it came to the 'no killing' rule than perhaps he ought to be - not when it came to his own actions, or other X-Men's, but he knew without judging that X-Force played by a different set of rules. "Good", he said with a smile. "It was... a closer call than most, I think. Thank God and their own capability that they all came out alive."

"Exactly." Wade picked up one of his machetes, a jungle golok from Borneo, before nudging the karambit closer to Kurt and asking, "Ever used one?"

"These specifically? No." Taking it as an invitation, he picked the knife up to examine it more closely. "We tended to use plainer and cheaper work back in the circus, though they still needed to be well weighted."

"Good for fighting," Wade said. "Very, very good for gutting. Has an interesting history, actually. It's from Indonesia and the style goes back maybe eight hundred years? Maybe more. The ancient Sudanese copied its shape from the claws of tigers. I've got one that's over a century old - not here, obviously."

Kurt nodded. "That particular one would be a collector's item, not for use now? They are quite lovely - and a tiger's claw would probably be the ideal shape, given its method of killing. You are skilled in using all these?" He waved his hand over the table.

"I've got my favorites," Wade said, indicating his Boker Plus Todd Begg Ginger fighter. "But that one," he nodded toward the karambit, "Would've come in handy in Genosha. Versatile. Not always expected. Knives are kind of a hobby for me. And I've had a few decades to practice."

"I am a little out of practice", Kurt admitted, "and I never really did know knife fighting. As a boy, I could hit a target at any spot pointed out, but it must be different when the target is a person up close and fighting back."

"A bit. You can sometimes follow through with the knives in various martial arts movements, just use the blade as an extension of your hand, if that makes sense. But it's definitely more personal." Wade ran the whetstone along the golok's blade, tilting it into the light to see the glint along the edge. "I like throwing knives, though. You saw one of my sets, remember?"

"Ah, that does make sense." He nodded at the latter part with a wry grin. "I remember. That poor boy, he never did show his face again."

Wade grinned. "Yeah. But I figure it's not much of a loss. I didn't even get to take Bea out of her case." Putting the golok and the whetstone down, he sat back in the chair and tilted it so he was balancing on two legs. "Liquor?"

"Korvus is made of much stronger stuff", Kurt agreed with approval, then reached to open the bottle. "Liquor! My brother sent it, so it may very well be homemade and dangerously strong."

Wade suppressed a chuckle given Korvus was literally made of much stronger stuff. "Healing factor," he said. "But I appreciate good liquor anyway."

"I will warn you now, my friend", Kurt said, looking at him slantwise, "the last person who drank with me and then was smug about his lack of hangover, Nathan and I teamed up and dropped him in the lake. And I only needed Nathan's help because he was a speedster."

Smiling, Wade held his hands up in front of him in a 'don't shoot' sort of signal. "Not being smug, just stating a fact. Besides, I can get a hangover, it just takes more alcohol than pretty much anybody can afford."

"Then we will not have a problem." He grinned, opened the bottle and poured a measure into each of the glasses. "And you can have the lion's share of this bottle."

Still balancing his chair on two legs, Wade reached over and snagged one of the glasses. "What're we toasting?"

"You are going to fall over and test your healing factor", Kurt warned, half-automatic, half-joking. "And I think, the fighting skills of our... what is it you call Marie-Ange? Ladyfriends?"

"When I start trying to balance on one leg, then you can worry about me testing out my healing factor," Wade said, tilting the bottom of his glass toward the other man. "To our ladyfriends and their combat skills."

Kurt clinked his glass against Wade's, then knocked back its contents with impressive fortitude and his eyes only watering a little. "And the speedy downfall of the Serpent Society."

"Fuck yes," Wade said with feeling, tipping back his glass and swallowing its contents without a wince. He hissed as he exhaled, though, and eyed the bottle. "Nice." He said, settling his chair back on all four legs and reaching for the liquor to pour them each another shot. "It's not that I don't think Marie-Ange can take care of herself. She's very good at it. I just... want to have her back if it's necessary." He knocked back his second shot and shook his head a little.

"Likewise." He drank his shot in turn. "Jubilee thinks it is selfish of her not to make me go far away. And, like you, I know she does not need protecting as if she was helpless, but I want to protect her all the same."

"Exactly," Wade said, pouring a third round. "Tell me what you know about the Serpent Society. I pinged a few contacts but nobody's gotten back to me yet and I'm not sure I'm in the right circles for that information, anyway. Didn't want to ask Marie-Ange or Doug so soon after the attack."

"The Serpent Society", Kurt said on a long breath, almost a sigh. "When we first encountered them, they were in people trafficking. Young mutants being sold as weapons, specifically, and they took Tabitha. We got her back. Now it seems they are allied with the Black Court and are not just selling people anymore, but assassins."

"Oh, great," Wade said, filing that away for later. He considered putting out more feelers, ones specifically geared toward the Hellfire Club and Belladonna, but tossed the idea almost as soon as it popped up. Spies weren't his deal, he'd probably wind up drawing attention to himself by accident. That was all he needed. He'd have to get Wheeze to quit looking into the Society.

Taking his next shot, Wade sat the glass down with a dull thud and reached for his Gurkha kukri machete and the whetstone, needing to do something with his hands. Twelve inches of high carbon steel was a nice distraction. "Understatement of the year - I don't like those people."

"I want them all in the highest security prison there is", Kurt said grimly, pouring another shot for Wade. "Among... other things I am not strictly allowed to want to do to them."

"You see the downward curve on this blade," Wade said, holding the kukri up so Kurt could have a better look. "It's associated with the Gurkha Warriors of Nepal. Under the Geneva Conventions, they can't actually be considered mercenaries - like the French Foreign Legion. The British East India Company was so impressed by them during the Gurkha War of 1814 that they specified in the peace treaty, and the Nepalese Gorkhali agreed, the warriors could be contracted to the East India Company's army." Resettling the machete on the table, Wade reached for his glass and knocked back shot number four before setting the whetstone on the table as wekk. "I would really like to use that on some of those Serpent Society people. Skip the high security prison."

"I met a retired Gurkha once", Kurt said meditatively, studying the kukri. "The toughest old man - yourself and Logan not really counting given your advantages - I have ever met. And yes, I have had certain fantasies since the attack. They came after people I love in their own home, trying to take them unawares. I am glad some of them paid for it."

Grinning, Wade said, "The former Chief of Staff of the Indian Army, a guy named Sam Manekshaw, once said that if a man said he wasn't afraid of dying, he was either a liar or a Gurkha. My kinda people."

"Would he have to add Wade Wilson's name to that list if he had met you?" Kurt asked teasingly. "I must admit mine would have to be left off. But there are other things I fear more."

"No, I don't think he'd have to add my name to that list. Just because nobody's figured out how to kill me yet doesn't mean they won't eventually. For me, at least, there's a significant difference between dying and my life coming to an end. They're related, but I've been technically dead before. Manekshaw meant life ending, I think. Who besides a liar or a Gurkha wouldn't be afraid of that?" Wade shrugged.

"True", Kurt agreed. "I believe in the life eternal, but I know others do not, or have different ideas of what it is like, and who I am to say 100% that I am right and they are wrong? Perhaps all ideas are right, and we will go to different places. Or nowhere at all."

"Heavy thoughts," Wade said, shaking his head a little. He'd never been particularly religious, himself, but everybody was entitled to their own beliefs. He'd just never really stopped to question his.

"Alcohol brings them out." He took another shot. "I have been thinking about it more lately. When my mother died, the last thing she said to me was a wish that I should live well, not just for duty, and find someone to love. I have tried to follow her wishes, and I love... I love Jubilee. But I know that I could lose her at any time, and not because she leaves me, and she is one of those with different beliefs. You have the same situation. How do you live with it?"

Wade tried to think of the last thing his mother had said to him - he couldn't remember. It'd been forty years since she died. "I dunno. Some people put their faith in God. I put mine in Marie-Ange's abilities and her intelligence. She's not defenseless. And if something should happen to her, if somebody should take her away from me..." The mercenary shrugged. "I'd hunt them down and take them apart piece by painful piece. It wouldn't make up for her being gone, but it would give me purpose. Temporary purpose, but purpose."

"I suppose this brought it home, faith or no faith", Kurt said quietly. "And yes, some purpose is better than none. The urge for revenge is a very human thing, I think, regardless of whether we act on it."

"Yeah. And we won't always be there for them. Genosha brought that home for me. I thought she was dead then. So maybe I've come to terms with it in a way that you haven't yet. I dunno." The mercenary reached for the bottle again, pouring them both another measure of liquor. "So I guess it's just doing what you can when you can and helping to pick up the pieces if you're not there for the fight. I'm certainly not going to be the person who attempts to wrap Marie-Ange up in bubble-wrap. She'd skin me alive. And look very pretty while doing it." He knocked back the shot, the burn not even really registering anymore.

"I think most of the women I know would look very pretty while teaching a lesson to any man who treated them as weak", he answered with dark amusement. "And... yes. I was with Jubilee in Genosha, I tried to patch her up and help her there and even the first night, in a cell as I set her nose, she was trying so very hard to take the pain in silence. I know full well how strong she is... but I suppose we always want to fight at their side no matter their own strength, and as you say, sometimes we cannot be there. At least I can take care of her now, and she knew I would come when she asked."

"Take comfort in that, my friend," Wade advised, nodding slowly. "There's trust in that. And if she's got it in you, you're doing something right." Pouring yet another shot, Wade held it out for a clink and said, "To having sneaky spy type people with trust issues trust us. Also, now I really want chicken and waffles. We should work on that."

"To trust", Kurt echoed with the touch of glasses. "I am sure there are chicken and waffles in the kitchen. Shall we go and look?"