An otherwise relaxing morning is marginally dampened by the niggling feeling that something isn't quite right.
He can't put his finger on it at first, but after a couple of hours it starts to dawn on him that maybe – maybe – there's something not quite normal about waking up in a small, cold room made entirely out of concrete except for a big metal door that's been locked from the outside.
He doesn't want to jump to conclusions. After all, he's pretty sure he doesn't have anywhere else to be. That he can remember.
He can't remember much of anything at the moment, but maybe that's normal too?
It doesn't seem like it's worth stressing over. Someone must have locked the door, and he's pretty sure it wasn't him, so maybe they'll be back to unlock it again. Or not, and he'll be stuck in here until he dies of boredom. But he's got to have ages before that happens; he's sure there's tons of things an inventive guy can find to keep himself entertained in seven-feet-square of raw concrete prison. There's some really exciting mould growing in one corner under where the roof's been leaking for a start, that'll be good for at least a couple of hours. Maybe if he keeps watering it for a month or two it'll grow into something he can talk to.
For the time being, he makes himself (comparatively) comfortable lying flat on his back and watches the electric bulb hanging from the ceiling swing back and forward.
...come to think of it, what's making it do that? It wasn't doing that before.
Was that a rumbling noise he just heard? Is it getting louder?
The really exciting thing about that is that, unless the walls are made of some kind of magic, rumble-o-crete, or unless that's his stomach trying to digest a badly-chewed ventriloquist (are ventriloquists edible? How does he know the word 'ventriloquist'?), that's the first sign he's had that there's really, truly, a whole world out there on the other side of that door! Awesome! Maybe he'll get to see it someday.
Ooh, that one wasn't even a rumble, it was more of.... more of a boom. And another boom. And they are getting louder.
He's pretty sure that's thick concrete too, so on the outside they've got to be really loud booms.
But hey, he's new around here, maybe this happens all the...
Well, hey, maybe huge, muscular guys with metal arms and glowing eyes come bursting in through doors around here all the time too?
He hopes they do. The way that door flew the whole way across the room so hard now there's a big dent in the opposite wall – that was the coolest thing he's ever seen!
"Wade!" is the first thing the big guy says, and 'Wade' spends a couple of seconds looking around trying to figure out who he's talking to before it clicks.
"Oh, is that me? Am I Wade?" Wade. Way-deh. He likes the sound of that. He kinda likes the look of the big guy who just burst into his room too, even if he is wearing this weird combination of blue spandex and military gear. He's pretty sure that's not normal, but if there's anyone who can rock a look like that it might be this guy right here.
"Say, do I know you?" he asks, because he thinks he likes making conversation and the big guy still hasn't said anything else.
Something really awful happens to the big guy's face. "Apparently... not," he concludes.
"Huh. Okay," says Wade. That seems to be that. So why does he feel like he just backed over this guy's puppy? With a combine harvester. Made of fire.
'Combine harvester' is a great word. Words. He should find out what they mean.
Something outside goes 'boom' again. He was right, it's a lot louder with the door open. The big guy who seems really sad that 'Wade' doesn't know who he is grits his teeth.
"We're taking the back way out," he says.
Wade looks around his cell. "There's a back way?"
The big guy hefts a gun that is nearly as big as he is. "There will be."
Wade likes the sound of that.
The sound turns out to be 'whirrrr-BOOM-oom-oom-rumble-umble', and it's even better than he thought it was going to be. Wade doesn't care if he knows the big guy or not, but he's pretty sure he's going to like him a whole lot.
Maybe if he asks nicely, the guy will let him play with that awesome big gun of his later.
After they bust out there's a whole lot of running, and ducking around corners, and under things and over things, and more running. It's good fun, though he has the idea that if any of the guys Nate said were chasing them had caught up with them it would have been less fun – or maybe more fun – but they didn't catch up so what the hell, running around with Nate is cool with him. Eventually Nate says they've lost their pursuit and takes them both to a dingy room in a small hotel where he says they're going to wait until some contact of his can come by and get them.
'Nate' is what the big guy who blew open two doorways said Wade should call him. His real name is so long that if it went out in public wearing a fake moustache and funny hat no-one would question that it was born to be a whole sentence, so Wade is cool with sticking to 'Nate'. Possibly in more ways than one.
"So, what do while we wait?" Wade asks. He probably sounds a bit hopeful.
Nate gives him a long look. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Wade wonders if this is a trick question. "Um. You saying 'what's the last thing you remember'."
"Before I rescued you."
"I was in that room?"
Wade thinks about the question. "I woke up?"
"You don't remember anything from before you woke up there?"
Nate sighs and sits down beside Wade on the bed. The bedsprings creak in protest. Clearly the springs have rotten taste.
"Is that bad?" Wade asks.
"You have amnesia, Wade," says Nate. "That's usually considered a bad thing."
Wade knows the word 'amnesia'. He doesn't like it very much.
"How'd I get amnesia?" he asks.
"I don't know," says Nate, with a sort of a wry smile, "and since, obviously, you don't know either, that doesn't leave us a lot to work with."
"This isn't, like, something that happens to me a lot?" His earlier hopes that nothing out of the ordinary was going on are starting to feel a bit unfounded.
"No. If anything..." Nate gives Wade a speculative look. "You've lost time before – forgotten specific events – but we fixed that. This is more likely to be something your captors did."
"So what's do we do about it?"
"We're going to wait until our support gets here," says Nate, "and then I'm going back to ask them."
"Can I come?"
Nate looks like he's about to say no, then he reconsiders. "Why not? Seeing the rest of the facility might jog your memory."
That seems to bring them right back to the original, 'so what do we do while we wait' problem, which Nate still hasn't addressed yet. Amnesia aside, Wade's had a pretty cool day, but Nate looks kinda down. Maybe there's something he can do to cheer him up?
Wade would really like to do something to cheer Nate up.
He edges a bit closer and shifts a hand. "So, help me out here, we do know each other, right?"
"You could say that," says Nate, though he doesn't seem to be saying it to Wade, so much as someone invisible on the other side of the room. Wade opts to ignore this.
"Sooooo we know each other pretty well?"
Nate looks down. He's looking at Wade's hand, which just so happens to have shifted itself onto Nate's thigh. Where it's moving around in what might be construed as a grope-y sort of way. What? He thinks he can feel some more metal down there and he's curious, okay?
'Plausible deniability' are some other words Wade knows.
Nate doesn't actually seem to mind having it there. When he looks up he's got this twinkle in his eye that Wade likes a whole lot.
"You could say that," he replies, but this time in a very different voice and now he is talking to Wade, and that thing tilting Wade's chin up is totally Nate's hand, yesyesYES! He'd say that out loud, but Nate is kissing him, and he shuts up then because this is way more important than talking.
Nate probably meant this to be a brief, point-making kind of kiss, but Wade has other ideas. Not that Nate is protesting all that much.
"I knew it!" Wade says when he finally has to come up for air, "Knew we knew each other in the really well kind of knowing each other way!" Today just keeps getting better.
"Did you remember something?" Nate asks.
"No but we could do that some more just in case I do," Wade says quickly.
Nate frowns. "I..."
"Oh wait," Wade cuts in, looking down, "scratch that, part of me – part of me totally remembers you."
Nate follows Wade's gaze down to the part in question.
"And the rest of me really wants to get to know you better," finishes Wade, trying not to sound too desperate. He may be keening a bit.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," says Nate, and he's not frowning anymore but he's leaning back and out of Wade's personal space, and that is seriously not on.
"Oh c'mon, Nate! I may not know me very well but I'm pretty sure I'm not the kind of guy who'd care if this is a 'good idea'." Though that might be a bit of a lie, because Nate said they could be stuck here a couple of hours before anything interesting happens, and spending a couple of hours in a room with Nate without having sex sounds like torture. Really bad torture, The kind of 'really bad' you can only express with an obscure pop-culture reference, and Wade's a bit short on those right now, and doesn't want to spend the next two torturous hours distracting himself from 'sex-with-Nate' by trying to think one up.
"There's a certain truth to that," Nate admits, though he doesn't sound like he's changing his mind, and that's when Wade decides he's pretty sure he's not above begging either.
"Pleasepleaseplease, Nate, I've probably had a very traumatic day that I can't remember and I need someone to kiss it all better."
Nate looks to be wavering under Wade's well developed and only slightly bullshit arguments, but he's not over the edge yet. "I don't want to take advantage..."
"Yes you do!"
"That part that remembers you remembers you really well! You've got to help me take care of it or I'm going to have to take care of it myself, and while I'm doing that I'm going to have to think about you real hard, and you wouldn't make me do that, would you? I mean, I can't even remember what you look like naked, which is so unfair, and where would that leave us?" Wade protests.
Now Nate's smirking, which is a odd because Wade doesn't know whether he likes that expression or whether he wants to punch it in the mouth, but the important thing is that Wade's personal space isn't so personal anymore.
"Well, if you put it that way..." says Nate, and Wade decides that compromise is the key, and the proper way to deal with that smirk is to kiss the hell out of it.
Nate's being a bit – tentative, but at least he's getting the idea that Wade is very serious about this, and not that he has much basis for comparison but Nate's good at kissing and his hands are... well, they're starting to get towards some interesting places. This may not be a race but Wade's not feeling terribly patient. Right now his whole life to date contains not one single incidence of getting laid, and having only about five hours worth of memories sounds like a pretty piss-weak excuse, and Nate has a great arse and he should move so Wade can get his hands on more of it.
Nate's nudging him down against the bed and... wait, why isn't he coming too? Ohh, he's taking his shirt off. Which means Nate is now half-naked. Wade hasn't figured out yet whether he's a 'glass half full' or a 'glass half empty' kind of guy; all he knows is that half-naked Nate is exactly half as naked as Wade wants him to be and he likes where this trend is going.
This could be an excellent time to lead by example.
Another thing he can't remember is how this shirt he's wearing is supposed to come off, but there's a big hole in the front of it (and a matching one in the back too, what are the odds?), and so after several whole seconds of frustrated wriggling, that's plenty enough excuse to rip the rest of it to shreds and fling it away. It turns out he's wearing yellow panties under his pants, but Nate is acting like that's totally normal, so who is he to argue?
"This would be the one thing you remember," Nate mutters, rubbing a palm over Wade's knee. The palm trails its way up the inside of his thigh as Nate leans in, and whohoo! he's officially up to the really interesting places. His hand gets to Wade's cock at just the same time his mouth gets to Wade's – like a really obscene version of the 'pat your head and rub your stomach' trick, which he's betting Nate is terribly good at because there is nothing lacking in his coordination whatsoever. A whole bunch of nerves down there are lighting up and throwing parties in the honour of Wade's brilliant 'good idea'. It's weird, because they're kinda familiar – in the 'can't draw you a picture but I'd know him if I saw him again, officer' sorta way – but they're new as well, so Wade's getting a second first-time-ever, and a second first-time-ever-with-Nate, and he probably shouldn't tell Nate but amnesia might just have its upsides.
Nate has big hands, the skin is pretty rough but Wade thinks he kinda likes that, and he has this awesome way of changing his rhythm just at the right moment when Wade's not expecting it and making him go ooooh. Internally, but a bit of happy squirming and a lot of sucking on Nate's tongue get the message across just fine. There's one horrible moment where Nate lets go, but before Wade can protest there's something else nudging him down there, and it's Nate's cock, and then Nate's hand is wrapped around both of them. Wade doesn't know which part he likes best. He has to admit this isn't what he was expecting they were going to do so much as something involving more... fucking, or bucking, or sucking, or... words rhyming with duck? Is 'ducking' a sexual act?
"Not that I'm aware of," says Nate.
Wade freezes. "...did I say all that out loud?"
"You'd be amazed how often it comes up."
Note to self: saying random stuff in the middle of sex with Nate doesn't kill the mood. This is going to be useful to know. "Uhh, well what I meant was I was thinking we'd go for one of the 'duck' words but if you don't wanna that's cool too because damn you give a hell of a hand-job..."
"I know," says Nate, and that's not just a smirk, it's radiating so much pure smugness they could probably see it from space. "You've mentioned it before."
Hoarse whisper right into Wade's ear, and damn, if wanting his memory back bad enough was all it took that would have fixed him right there.
It doesn't, of course, but it's hard to stay that disappointed that he can't remember all his other handjobs from Nate, 'cause he's having a tough time thinking of anything else that could improve today. More kissing might be nice, but even Nate doesn't have the concentration left for that anymore, and he seems to like hearing Wade babble enthusiastically, so why take that away? All Wade's plans for the immediate future involve them doing exactly what they're doing now until Nate's friends start banging down the door, and he's so completely occupied with that that he doesn't even notice for a bit that Nate's rhythm is getting less regular and he's started shaking and moaning Wade's name like it's the only word in the universe that means anything, and then he's coming all over Wade's chest.
Wade adds a minor revision to his plans: this is great and more of this would be great but orgasms look like they're pretty great too and it will be an acceptable sacrifice for this not to go on so much longer if he gets to find out first-hand.
Any time now, really. Or... wait, not just yet, there's something different about Nate's hand now it's moving again and he wants to try more of it... what is that? It's kinda slippery and nice and... oh – oh wow, that's Nate's own come all over his hand, how hot is...
A couple of minutes later, floating down from a state of bliss so complete that it almost drowns out the desire to put a bullet through the head of everyone in the next room who just started banging on the wall, Wade has his answer about orgasms and it is a whole lot of yes.
"I think I'm going to like being me," he pants.
Nate rolls over and looks at him seriously. "A lot of the things you're going to remember about your past aren't pleasant."
Wade gives him a sec to get to the point, but apparently that is the point? "But things are better now, right?" he says.
Nate seems unsure how to answer that.
"I mean, I'm with you, that's gotta be a good start," Wade points out.
Nate blinks at him, and shakes his head. "If your memory isn't back by tomorrow morning, remind me to tell you how we met."
"Are we talking something with all that epic love-at-first-sight, maybe with slow-motion-running, and orchestral music and stuff?"
"Not even remotely."
"See, I knew I liked you, Nate," says Wade happily.
A ninja jumps through the window, lands neatly on his feet in a hail of broken glass, takes a long look at them lying on the bed together, turns around and leaps back out again.
Nate swears, rolls off the bed and throws Wade his pants. "They've found us. Time to move."
Wade stares out the window. "You think he's coming back?"
"Hard to say. Friends of his who startle less easily? Very probably."
"What do I do if they do?"
Nate pauses in the middle of grabbing all his gear and waves an arm. "Do whatever comes naturally."
Naturally, huh? "We do this kinda thing a lot?"
"Welcome to your life, Wade," Nate mutters.
Ha! He was right all along. All totally normal and absolutely nothing to worry about.
Except maybe Nate's weird blue spandex thing, but getting him out of it on a regular basis doesn't look like it's going to be a problem.