Cecilia & Wade | Thursday Evening

[x-deadpool.livejournal.com]

Wade visits Cecilia for a checkup, then they discuss tattoos.


"Sit still." Cecilia frowned as she ran her fingers up Wade's forearm. "For whatever reason, your veins are really hard to find, and if you keep wriggling, it'll be impossible. And then I'll have to stick you repeatedly," she looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed, "and I actually like you, so it won't give me any great joy." She continued to trace his vein, tapping it a few times before looking to her left and picking up an alcohol wipe.

"Yeah, yeah," Wade said, quirking a smile despite himself. "Most docs tend to like poking me with sharp things. I'm an anomaly so I'm intriguing or something." He held still, though, since he wanted to minimize the amount of time he spent int he medlab. "I dunno what this new blood work is gonna tell you, though. My blood work hasn't changed in close to twenty years."

Cecilia's eyes were fixed on his arm. "It'll tell me that your blood work hasn't changed in 20 years." She grabbed the needle and pulled his skin taut. "Which I'd like to find out for myself. Because I'm a doctor, and this is our procedure when you've got a rather slow-growing cancer and haven't had blood work in an embarrassing amount of time." She inserted the needle and started to fill up one of the seven collection tubes she'd placed in front of her. "Won't take long, but I'm sure you know the drill. While we're doing this, tell me how you feel most days." God, that was businesslike.

"Well, HDJ did blood work. And so did Osmosis Joe. It's just nothing's changed," Wade said, resisting the urge to shrug. Cecilia might smack him or something if he dislodged her carefully placed needle and he really didn't relish the thought of being stuck over and over again. "And if the cancer hasn't killed me after twenty years, I'm kind of resigned to the fact that I'm stuck with it, anyway."

"I know nothing's changed." Cecilia said as she capped the third tube and started to fill a fourth. "But you're starting with a new physician, and it's protocol, and I lied, I enjoy sticking you with a needle. What do you want from me? I can't fight my human instincts." She fell quiet as she watched his blood drain. "I know you're used to it," she looked up at him, "but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try my best to help you fight it. That's sort of what they trained me for."

Wade quirked another smile. "Yeah, you took an oath, didn't you?" He shook his head, though, before tilting it back to look up at the ceiling. "Man, fuck cancer."

"I did, though some days I regret it." She didn't really though. "Open your hand."

Cecilia grabbed a piece of gauze and applied it to the puncture as she removed the needle. Even though she knew it'd heal, old habits died hard. "Hold that down for me?" She put the labels on all seven tubes, then stood. "Fuck cancer," she agreed before turning on her heel to put the blood in the fridge.

After a minute, Cecilia returned, cookie in hand. Not that it was necessary for the amount Wade had donated, but because... cookie. "You're going to beat this." She began cleaning up after herself. "You're doing well already."

Wade took the cookie with the hand not holding gauze and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. He chewed a couple times, then said, "Just tired of it, 'sall." He managed not to drop or spray crumbs everywhere, which he was pretty proud of. Sometimes it was the little things. "But seriously, after three years of hopping back and forth between the mansion and Muir, not to mention all the doctors I saw before, I'm not sure there's anything anyone can do about it. And I really don't want to do chemo again, since it doesn't seem to accomplish anything."

Cecilia nodded, listening as she threw the needle, tubing and sundries into a marked trash can. "No chemo," she said, more repeating him than promising. "I doubt there's any need to put you threw something that aggressive if your body is keeping the cancer in stasis. I'll have to do some research, of course, but I don't want you to undergo it if you don't have to."

She sat back down across from him and taped the gauze to his arm. "Doubt this is even necessary," she said, amused. "Thing probably closed up already. That must be nice."

"It's convenient, if nothing else," Wade said, nodding. He'd throw the gauze and tape out once he left and deal with the bruise as it healed. "So, what else is up on the list of stuff to test today, doc?"

"Nothing, I guess." Cecilia shrugged. She wished she'd grabbed a second cookie. "I mean, we'll see how the blood work comes back and go from there if we need to, but no scans or machines or anything. Not today." She crossed her legs. "No new pain? No new headaches? Don't say the one Jean gave you."

Wade had opened his mouth to say just that, so he shut it again, then grinned. "No, things have been pretty uneventful. Just the usual tiredness and bruising after a lot of physical activity. But nobody's mowed me over lately, so nothing extreme."

"No? Logan must be getting soft." Cecilia grinned back. She grabbed a nearby pen and notebook and scribbled something down. "Normal bruising? Normal for you, I mean?"

"Logan and I drink more than we spar - have you ever been hit with one of his fists? It's like a freaking freight train. Between the two of us, we're pretty evenly matched, but I don't really do gratuitous pain, y'know?" Wade paused to think about it, then said, "Yeah, regular bruising. I mean, I bruise easy - have for ages. The other docs all said it was because of the cancer. And the tiredness, too. The bruises stick around for a day or two, which is apparently weird for people with healing factors, and then they're gone."

"Yep, that's the leukemia," Cecilia nodded, continuing to scribble some notes. Everything about this felt so awkward. She'd never really tried to help treat a friend like this - not that she'd really be able to treat him anyway - and she was wavering on this weird line between professional and personal that she obviously couldn't quite navigate. "Every medical instinct I have says not to do anything," she finally said after a minute. "But I don't want you to have cancer either."

Wade smiled. "Pretty sure nobody wants me to have cancer," he said. Then he waggled his eyebrows. "But hey, maybe this is nature's way of like, balancing the scales - giving other people a fighting chance. I mean, can you imagine how much I'd dominate if I didn't have to worry about those pesky hairy cells?"

"Oh, heaven help us all," she intoned, deadpan. "You big, strong, tour de force you." Cecilia rolled her eyes and chucked her pen at him.

Laughing, Wade caught the pen, gave it a twirl through his fingers, and then tucked it behind his ear. "I know, right?"

"Boo, it's no fun when you catch it." Cecilia made a show of sighing. "I'm getting predictable. Which actualy reminds me, I'm thinking about getting another tattoo." She tilted her head at his look. "Oh, for the — you didn't know I had a tattoo?"

"Cece, you rebel!" Wade said, obviously delighted. "What'd you get? Barbed wire? An abacus? One of those staff things with a snake to represent your dedication to your career or to remind you why you don't allow yourself to stab dashingly handsome mercenaries with scalpels?"

"Oh my God," Cecilia snorted, grinning despite herself. "You are so - first of all, that thing is called a caduceus. It's Greek. Second, barbed wire? What do you take me for? And third, how unobservant are you that you've never noticed before? I'm almost sure you've seen it."

Wade looked her over, then tilted his head to the side. "Nope," he said. "Never noticed one. Did you get a tramp stamp? Because I have to admit, I haven't been looking at your ass. I'm sure it's very nice, but you're always in lab coats when I see you. Or sweaters because grilling steaks at midnight is cold."

"That is not — I hardly wear lab coats ever," she protested, meeting his glee with an incredulous stare. "No tramp stamps. Nothing nearly so sexy or trashy. Don't tell me I strike you as an angel wings kind of gal." She looked around and then stood from her chair. "So help you, if you let out a wolf whistle, Wade." She removed her lab coat and tossed it on a nearby counter, then turned and shifted her shirt so her left shoulder was exposed to reveal a smallish tattoo of the Puerto Rican flag.

Wade looked pointedly at the lab coat Cecilia had tossed away, then back toward the tattoo she'd revealed. "Aw, national pride," he said, grinning. "Nice. I totally think you should get another one. A bigger one. No angel wings, though."

"Yeah, I'm not a SUNY Binghamton sorority girl, so I don't think angel wings are happening." Cecilia adjusted her shirt and sat back down, letting the lab coat rest where it was. Now that she wasn't drawing blood, there was really no need, and she felt like she had to make a point. "If it's big, it has to be somewhere I can hide it. I'm not going to be dispensing aspirin in here forever, at least not if I have anything to say about it. So I have to be able to look professional."

"I'm not saying put it on your face, doc," Wade said, laughing. "I mean, like - get a back tat or something that wraps around your side or something. You can show it off in the summer if you want but you don't have to."

"What? No." Cecilia stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "The ones around your side hurt like hell. Anything that touches your ribs like that? Forget it." She crossed her arms. "I was thinking about getting, like, a heartbeat on my ankle. But that's lame, and super medical."

Wade facepalmed. Then he looked at Cecilia and said, "Don't let out a wolf whistle, doc," as he leaned back and lifted his shirt so she could see the puncture wound that went right through him from front to back. "Now something like that hurts like hell. Some needles over your ribs are like butterfly kisses."

Cecilia let out a wolf whistle then grinned. "Are you actually blushing? Awww." She pushed his hand away as he tried to swat her. "Stop, let me look at that." She scooted in to look at his scar. "Wow. Must have hurt." She thought maybe Wade meant her to be grossed out by that, but since Cecilia had spent the better part of her adult life staring at people's insides, he'd found the wrong mark.

"I'm not blushing," Wade said, laughing again. "But yeah, it hurt. Taking the spear out hurt more, though."

"I bet." Cecilia scooted back. "I don't have a healing factor or anything, though. If I get a tattoo there, I'm just going to be sore for a while. Not fun for me. And honestly, I don't even know what I'd get that would be that big."

"A hummingbird and a delonix regia," Wade answered promptly, letting his shirt fall back into place. "To go along with your Puerto Rican flag."

"You know about that?" Cecilia tried to look suitably impressed. "Flor de Maga would be more likely, I think. But I don't know..." She shook her head. "I feel like I did the Puerto Rican symbol thing. Now I should find something else."

"But nobody else will know it's Puerto Rican," Wade pointed out. "It'll just be a pretty thing with lots of color. Which I'm told is important."

"You don't like pretty things with lots of color?" Cecilia tried not to smirk - it seemed to her like he'd just described Marie-Ange.

"I never said that," Wade said, holding up one finger. "But I'm not all that familiar with tattooing protocols or whatever. Unless it's the tribal stuff, which are not colorful."

"Yeah, no tribal stuff. I'll figure something out." Cecilia drummed her fingers on the table, considering. "The only reason I brought it up because I want someone to go with me. Well, I want you to go with me, when I finally do it."

"Sure, no problem," Wade said. "When do you wanna do it?"

"I don't know, man." Cecilia tilted her head. "I'll probably go through a few rounds of indecision, then put it off because I'm too busy and then expect you to drop whatever you're doing with a day's notice. But, you know, at least I'm self-aware."

"Right, so tonight. Sounds good," Wade said, nodding. "I'll pick you up at eight. You Google tattoo artists in the area and find the highest rated one."

"What? No!" Cecilia jabbed him in the arm. "For some of us these things are permanent, Wade. I'm not getting something tattooed on me spontaneously if I've got to live with it forever."

"Okay, you need time to think about it. So..." Wade paused and cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly. "I'll pick you up at nine."

"You're a crazy person."

"Yeah, yeah - you're not getting out of this. You gotta at least go introduce yourself to the artist or something. And look through books of potential tattoos. Maybe you'll be inspired. I won't even make you shoot tequila first."

"It must be nice," Cecilia remarked, trying not to sound haughty, "to live life with such reckless abandon. But that is just not my way, friend."

"It could be your way," Wade said, waggling his eyebrows.

"I bet it would be, if you had anything to say about it." Cecilia stood. "Good thing you don't."

"So nine it is, then, for artist introductions and looking at pictures. Excellent."

"Yeah, fine, fine." Cecilia waved him off. She had no intention of keeping that appointment, but he had cancer, so she might as well humor him. "Now get out. I've got things to do."