Gabriel & Wade | Saturday Afternoon

[x-deadpool.livejournal.com]

Gabriel and Wade accidentally have a bonding moment. Sort of. (Also, OOC shoutout to Erin for the artisanal jams idea. <3)


Wade put his glass of scotch on the end table near the fluffy looking couch, then flopped onto said couch with an oof. "Cohuelo. Regale me with tales of your skiing prowess."

Gabriel made a face as he scooted to the other end of the couch, shaking Wade's feet away from his legs. "Okay, one, you are a space hog." He scooped his phone off the coffee table and migrated to a nearby chair. "Also, someone here snores, and I'm 95 percent sure it's you." His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it for a second, then frowned. "And I've been skiing, like, once. Like, two months ago, with a weird Olympian and a shapeshifting teenager."

"And my bratty ward," Wade reminded him. "I'm sure that was thrilling. Also, I don't snore. You can ask the ladybird. I got snowburn, though. You gotta learn how to like defend your space, my friend. There was totally a kidney shot in there. You could've had me off the couch easy."

"Yeah, well," Gabriel shrugged. "I'm still learning how to cut a bitch. Haven't reached that pay grade yet." He eyed Wade's scotch. "One second." As he rose from the chair, he vanished. About 30 seconds later, he was back, an Irish coffee in his hand. "Okay." He took a sip. "So. Can't you heal from snowburn? Haven't you regrown limbs?"

"Healing it's not the problem," Wade said, reaching for his scotch again and taking a sip. "Actually, that's a lie. It's totally the problem. But mostly because it itches like a son of a bitch. Mostly on my nose. The like, underside of my nose. Does that have an actual name? Ugh."

Gabriel's phone vibrated again, and he picked it up and swiped. "I couldn't possibly tell you, but I guarantee someone has pierced it." He raised his eyes to Wade "If I google 'nose taint,' do you think anything will come up?"

"I mean, there's the septum piercing, but I think that's like up in your nose," Wade offered. "Also, don't google that, that's a terrible plan. Who are you hooking up with here? Your swiping is not subtle."

"Dude, come on." Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "It's not that. I just woke up. And we're supposed to be bonding." The implied air quotes around that were almost visible. He sent one more text, then put his phone on the ground. "I'm trying to get weed."

"What, so you can get high but not laid when not stuck in 'bonding' mode?" Wade didn't bother to imply the air quotes, he just outright made them with his fingers. "Also, c'mon. Morning wood."

"I didn't say that," Gabriel made an exasperated huff. "Just, you know, easier to stomach the thought of singing Kumbaya while being forced to listen to people go on about how to covertly shoot people in the forehead if I'm high." He scratched his neck. "And, you know," he shrugged, "if we get stuck in a blizzard or an avalanche or whatever, I need supplies."

"This," Wade said, gesturing with his glass at the room around them, "Is not that kind of retreat. I'm pretty sure Fe hasn't left the bar except to sleep. And maybe not even then. Besides, if you wanna know how to covertly shoot someone in the forehead, eh. That's a different skillset. That's not team building. That's like. Hey, when you're using your powers, you can take stuff with you, right? If you're touching it? You set up those little microphones. You don't need to know how to covertly shoot someone when you can shoot them while speeding around so fast they can't see you."

"Dude," Gabriel raised an eyebrow, "everyone here is awfully chummy. Half of you are, like, sleeping together or have slept together or want to sleep together. And some of these people are just fucking hard to take. It doesn't matter what kind of retreat it is."

Wade considered that, then shrugged. "You're not wrong. But it's not every day you meet somebody, tell them you're actually fifty-something, have cancer that won't go away no matter what you do, used to kill people for a living, and sometimes still take contracts when you're having a bad month... and then have them still wanna date you. I mean. Whatever. We do shady shit. That makes us shady people. But we're also the least judgmental people you'll ever meet cause acceptance is hard to come by. So y'know. It's any kind of retreat you want it to be. Mostly, I think it's supposed to reinforce that we've got your back, we just expect you to have ours, too. Cause we're all kinda fucked up, special snowflakes."

Gabriel took another sip from the coffee. A bit of cream stuck to his upper lip, and he wiped it off. "That was, like... really sweet." He raised an eyebrow. "Honestly didn't know you had those kinds of feelings in you."

"Well, I hate to disappoint," Wade said. He smirked, and finished, "Don't fuck it up. We're super shady, special snowflakes and most of us could kill you with our pinkies and no effort."

Gabriel snorted. "Yep. There it is. There's the man I drove around for the better part of six months while he did god knows what for god knows how much." He shook his head. "This is what I mean when I say all of you are crazy."

"Artisanal jams," Wade said. "Cut-throat business, artisanal jams. Finding the right artisans, the right jams, the money to fund the jam-making... messy work."

"Mmhm." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Jams."

"Strawberry, grape, peach," Wade said, nodding sagely. "Moonlighting as an artisanal jammer is ridic."

"Yes. Well." Gabriel picked up his phone again. "Knowing that you jam knives and guns into people's throats doesn't make this conversation any less surreal."

"Jamming knives is sloppy. Jamming guns is impractical," Wade said, taking another sip of scotch. "Also, they have nothing to do with peaches. And now I really want some marmalade. Orange. Mm... artisanal marmalade. That'll be my next grand investment. After the taco class thing."

"Marmalade," Gabriel repeated somewhat vacantly. "And I'm the gay one." He swiped a few times on his phone then sighed. "God, how is it that nobody in a stupid ski town has any pot? Am I going to have to blow a ski instructor?"

"I could probably get some airlifted here, if you're really desperate, but we're talking like. A lot. I mean, a lot a lot," Wade said, giving Gabriel a significant look. "I'd be trusting you to use it responsibly. And give me thirty percent of whatever profits you make."

"Oh, shut up. I don't want your drug cartel connection. A 14-year-old asked me for GHB the other day, and that was a low I'd like to never repeat."

"Weed is pretty harmless," Wade commented. "And I mean, it's basically legal everywhere. Ish. My source isn't a drug cartel. It's some hippies out in Washington State - medical grade."

"It must be convenient to be you," Gabriel said wryly. "With every connection imaginable, all the money in the world and every possible skill set."

"I'm old," Wade said, shrugging. "You're literally less than half my age. Keep going the way you're going and you'll have a network that's better than mine by the time you're my age. And I don't have every possible skill set. I just know when to delegate."

"And an answer for everything." Gabriel raised an eyebrow, then took another healthy sip from his Irish coffee. "That must be convenient too."

"It's a gift," Wade said, shrugging. "The gift of gab."

"And a curse for the rest of us, I'd have to say."

"You wound me, Cohuelo. That's a mortal wound there. My lifeblood is gushing here," Wade said, tipping his glass toward the younger man in a salute.

"I'm sure." Gabriel raised his glass as well, then brought it to his lips. "Good thing you've got 1,000 lives."

"Yeah, virtual immortality," Wade said. His voice was dry as he muttered, "Best mutation ever. Totally."

Gabriel almost visibly brightened. "Dude. Was that a dark note I detected?" His phone vibrated again, but he ignored it, shoving it off his lap and onto the floor. "And not from me? Spill."

Wade considered the younger man for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm turning fifty-six this year, right? And I've looked like this," he gestured vaguely to his face, "For the last, I dunno. Twenty-five years. I'm not aging. But everybody else is. The rose-colored glasses are firmly in place, but. Dunno how well that's gonna stick when the ladybird's going gray and Doug's getting arthritis in his hands or whatever."

"Huh." Gabriel looked down at his feet for a second. Aging was something he'd thought about a lot, though for the opposite reason. "So you're — I mean, you think you'll be like this," he looked up and gestured to Wade, "forever?"

"It's a possibility," Wade said. "I mean, assuming I don't get decapitated or something. And even then..." He shrugged, knowing he couldn't elaborate where people might here. "Being dead might not stick. You never know."

Gabriel was uncharacteristically quiet for a bit. "I know that sucks, but, like think about all the shit you'd see. Like, everything. There's so much you wouldn't miss, and you're not, like, regretting all the things you didn't get done once it's too late."

"Yeah, no. I mean, I don't wanna be like ungrateful or whatever. Opportunities abound," Wade said. "But..." How to say it? "You know, before I wound up at the mansion for health stuff, I hadn't been in one place for more than three months in over a decade? It's easier that way."

"Uh, hello." Gabriel raised an eyebrow and gestured to himself. "You think I don't know that? I literally outrun everything. Well, not literally, because physics, but you know what I mean." He looked into his mug and then took another sip.

"Right, and then I'm here. And it's like. Yeah, I can go see whatever whenever, there's no rush. But what's the point? I mean, that's a legit question. Everybody I actually care about is gonna die some day. Not me, though. I go somewhere and see something awesome, I wanna tell somebody and... what? They're dead." Wade frowned at his glass, swirling the liquor. "Anyway, that's my dark note for the day."

"Yeah." Gabriel watched Wade as he focused on his whiskey a little too intently. It wasn't that he hadn't seen Wade seem down before, but this was something more deeply felt. Something more existential. It surprised him, and it made him wish there were something he could do. Well, there was, but—

He wrestled with the decision for a bit, not even hiding it on his face, and then, without really realizing he was doing it, he opened his mouth. "I'm 20."

Wade half-smiled, a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, but then his brain caught up with the words that'd actually come out of Gabriel's mouth and he paused, brows rising. "Yeah?" He asked.

"Yep." Gabriel closed his eyes as he took another sip. He opened them, took one look at Wade's face and rolled his eyes. "Oh, shove it."

"Sir, yes sir," Wade said, giving Gabriel a mock salute. A moment later, he tipped his head to the side and asked, "Did we just bond? Was that a bonding moment? I feel closer to you, Gabriel Cohuelo. Like, on a metaphysical level. We were like this," he continued, putting his drink on the end table so he could raise his hands and hold them as far apart as he could. "But now we're like this." He moved his hands closer, until there were only a couple feet between them.

"Oh my god, you're the worst." In a split-second, Gabriel grabbed a pillow from behind his back and hurled it at Wade's head with surprising force. "I should have let you mope."

Wade didn't even bother trying to dodge the pillow, he just started laughing. "See? More bonding."

"Seriously, I hate you." Gabriel gave Wade his best unimpressed face. "I regret everything about this conversation."

"I don't," Wade said, still smiling a little. "But I expect us to never mention any of it ever again."

"No," Gabriel said, a little more seriously, "we won't." He shrugged. "But now you and Marie-Ange have one more thing to talk about, so there you go."