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the golden hour

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There’s a constant ringing in his ears, buzzing well into a whole minute now. It could be his hangover (though he physically can’t get drunk, not anymore) or it could be the knife nestled on the side of his head right now. Whatever it is, it hurts a lot. But he’s used to it.

“Wade!”

It’s Nathan. He sounds distant. And tired. If Wade’s feeling lucky, he’d think all this saving-the-world shtick is finally getting to his partner’s timeworn body.

“I’m okay!” He shouts, unable to hear himself. “I’m on Valium, everything’s fine.”

He sees Nathan mouthing ‘you dumb fuck’ at him in slow-motion, all furious like. His left eye glowers bright yellow, so bright it’s dizzying. He should probably take the knife out. He can’t see nor hear right like this.

Wade slides it out just in time to hear a roaring scream approaching him from behind. He’s no Bullseye but he lobs the blade right onto the bad guy’s forehead, just between his eyes, knocking him to the ground. “Good Deadpool,” he chirps, bouncing on his heels.

Turning around, he sees Nathan with his Awesome Gun out, shooting one bad guy after another. They’re all blue and bald; it’s like a Smurfs orgy but deadlier, he imagines. His katanas are tingling and ready to play.

It doesn’t take them long to finish, though. Moments later him and Nathan are the only two left, cobalt blood spoiling their boots.

“He’s dead,” Nathan tells him, grimacing as he looks down at the body Wade’s been messing about with. “Quit playing around.”

“But what if he’s a zombie?”

“We’re literally stepping on his intestines, Wade. I don’t think he’s going to bother you again.”

Wade chuckles. “Yeah, and I spelled out your name with them. Look,” he nudges the bloody innards spelled Nate with the sharp point of his sword.

“Idiot,” Nathan scoffs to hide a smile. “You cut me, by the way. I’m holding that against you,” he points at an incised wound down his organic arm. It was an accident, and it hadn’t hurt.

Wade tsk-tsks. “I’m sorry, I only meant to scratch.”

Nathan allows that. He pauses to take his trusty chapstick out of his utility bag, applying it generously onto his puckered lips. “Let’s go home.”

It’s no surprise that once they’re back in the mansion, Colossus is more than happy to school the both of them on how their little action earlier is incredibly unwise. Wade thinks he’s being incredibly unfunny. Nathan just sits there and takes it.

“Alright, that’s enough you communist homage loser,” Wade interrupts, already walking out of the study, “Let’s pick this up when you’re off your high-protein diet.”

Behind him, he can hear Nathan muttering an apology. Colossus accepts it, after all, he’s a softie. And the dead guys are all bad guys anyway.

Making his way into Nathan’s room, Wade all but plops down the unmade bed with a moan, staining the pristine sheets red and blue with his suit. Nathan doesn’t even want to entertain him by getting mad, it’s pointless; it’s Wade.

“That was uncalled for,” Nathan says, kicking off his boots.

“I wouldn’t worry, his heart’s made of steel,” Wade shrugs, peeling off his mask to reveal a smile.

Nathan rolls his eyes. He takes off his ruined shirt, immediately brushing off the urge to change into a fresh one. He’d join Wade in bed instead.

“How’s your head?” He reaches out to poke the tender flesh of Wade’s healed temple.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” Wade replies with a sly grin.

Nathan couldn’t help cracking a smile, and Wade sees it too.

“Shut up,” he grunts.

“Didn’t say anything.”

“I’ll smack that stupid smirk off your face.”

“With what? That sorry old mechanical butt?”

And that gets Wade pinned down by the wrists on the mattress, Nathan’s full weight resting on him. “Shut the hell up.”

They play the game for a little while, maintaining eye contact until Nathan draws back, furrowing his brows. “Did you just—tell me to kiss you? In your head?” He asks, incredulous.

Wade has the gall to look bashful. “You’re a telepath, Nate. Don’t make me use my Shatner voice.”

Nathan shakes his head but leans in to kiss Wade all the same, licking into his mouth and tasting iron and something else equally disgusting. He doesn’t mind.

Wade rolls his hips up eagerly, his leather suit squeaking as it strains to meet Nathan’s thinly covered crotch. He manages to release his arms from Nathan’s grip to wrap them around his back, closing the tiny space between them.

When Wade thrusts up again he can feel the hard lines of Nathan’s cock against his. “Fuck, if you don’t fuck me—”

“Just be quiet, I know what you want,” Nathan says in between kisses, peppering small pecks down Wade’s neck.

And Wade does.