Chapter Text
"C'mon, B," Pa motioned, "getcha things an' were leavin'."
He turned to walk away from the open door frame and I stayed still.
He noticed that I didn't follow, "Bernadette LaBeau, get your ass out here."
"No, Pa." I whispered, "I'm staying with Wade."
He walked back squinting at me, "What the hell are you thinkin'? You're not stayin' with this pervert."
"Yes, I am."
"Is it 'cause he's tryin' to...? That little - he- I'm gonna kill him." Pa pushed into the room and looked around angrily reaching for his card deck.
"He's out." I stood still at the doorway.
"Not only is he mess in' with my Burn, he's leaving her alone here?" He barked.
"He had to leave for patrol. An' you left me for days all the time!" I remarked.
"That's diff'rent... You had Bubba and Sam." He countered, stepping closer.
"Sometimes, I'm grown now Pa. My 18th birthday is in two weeks. You gotta let me do this on my own." I blinked pulling on my vest, I knew he didn't want to let me stay here but he more than likely would.
"...Fine. If you wanna stay with this fool then do it; I can't stop you." And with that he left.
After a few hours of pacing, Wade finally got back. Of course, I should have expected serious injury. He stepped in through the door hold his left arm with his right hand. The severely mangled arm looked like it had been ripped off then partially chewed.
"Damn mutts..." He mumbled plopping on his couch and pushing the arm back into place and holding it there, "Can you run in the bathroom and get me two tubes that say topical lidocaine and Solaraze?"
"Of course." As I was walking away I heard him hiss in pain, probably because the healing process was painful.
I tended to forget that even though he can heal he's permanently in pain from it.
When I got back into the den he was sat back with his head thrown back and groaning in pain.
I walked over to him and slowly pulled off his mask, he flinched a little but sighed.
"Lean forward." I ordered, he slowly did and I unzipped his suit, pulling it off his shoulders slowly. He stood up and I slid it off the rest of the way. Thankfully he had on grey boxer-briefs.
He sat back down and I gently pushed him to a laying position.
"Lay on your stomach." He slowly rolled over and I pushed his legs apart to sit between them.
"You don't have to touch me, I know it's gross looking." He sighed into the pillow.
"I don't know why you keep saying that. Your not gross, and I want to do this for you; you deserve it." I smiled, even though I knew he couldn't see it.
I had a little experience with topical anesthetics and pain gels so I knew what to do.
I grabbed the warm washcloth and softly washed his back, arms and neck as he steadily slowed his breathing back to normal.
When I carefully patted him dry, grabbed the Solaraze, and squeezed out a good sized dollop into my hand and warmed it.
With the first contact my hands had with his shoulder blades, I could feel all the puffy stripes, bumps, ridges, scrapes, and rough patches.
"Hm- that's another first." He snorted.
"What is?" I asked massaging my thumbs into his shoulders.
He moaned softly and sighed, "Someone is purposely touching me for my benefit, not theirs."
"Well, glad to do it for you." I rubbed more gel into his lower back and shoulders then reached for the topical anesthetic, giggling at his noise from the loss of my hands. I watched his pale blue eyes flutter shut in relaxation and smiled to myself. He was a piece of art. He didn't recognize how fascinating he was to look at and study. The ridges and scars over his back made a design personalized to Wade Wilson and I felt special getting to be one of few people that get to enjoy the view.
"You know, I don't get why you're still here; why are you doing nice things for me? No one ever stays around, no one cares enough to." He asked, voice occasionally faltering because of me rubbing his neck.
I sat quietly for a while as I finished rubbing in the lidocaine, centralizing it on the newly formed scar around his left shoulder, then finally answered, "because I do care about you. You talk down like you hate yourself and I can't, for the life of me, figure out why you do so much."
"Well," he exhaled to the side, flexing the rugged span of his back, "because aside from you people don like the scars and cuts. The whole rugged, bad boy thing only goes so far. Women are disgusted or appalled. It's not like it's the social norm to look like this, it's not like people look like this usually. I've been alone for ever- well, it feels like forever. No one has offered to stay or wanted to... until you came along."
I laid over him and presses a light kiss to the back of his head.
"I've been the same way. Granted a lot less time alone, but I have been the social outcast my whole life. My father was the only one around and he wasn't there often. So as soon as my abilities developed I left and did what had to be done. The only thing I could do; kill."
He sat silently and breathed slowly, "That help any?" I asked.
"Mm, yeah, a lot actually. I feel almost good." He laughed.
I stood up and washed my hands and came back to him still laying there.
"Turn over?" I asked.
"Sure." He flipped over and closed his eyes. I put my knees on either side of his hips and got the other washcloth to clean the blood away. After I dried his chest, I squeezed some pain gel into my hands, warmed it and rubbed it into the fresh scars. He hissed out in pain and my movements stilled.
"No, keep going." He sighed.
I resumed rubbing the circles with my thumbs and watched his face contort and relax as I smoothed my hands down his chest and reached for the anesthetic.
I noticed that it was out of reaching distance so I did what seemed normal; rocked forward to grab it.
"Fuck-"
The noise that he made caused me to sit back up quickly and look at him confused.
"Uh... Sorry? Did I hurt you?" I asked unsure of whether the sound was of pain or pleasure.
"....no.... Pretty much the opposite." He laughed casually pushing me off him.
As he stood up, I immediately flushed noticing the clearly tented boxer-briefs.
Not sure how to feel about the current situation, I stumbled backwards, mumbled a 'I'm going.....I'll....wash my hands.', and walked to the bathroom.
Once I got into the bathroom, slammed the door and drew in a breath, my eyes got wide and I thought about it for a minute while I washed my hands.
A series of thoughts like, 'How the hell am I supposed to respond to that....?' And, 'what do I say?' And 'should I leave now...?'
Regulating my breath, I opened the door to find him no where to be found.
A/N: well yep. Not really and end notes just uh, sorry for the crap updates.... I've been really busy. Love you, victims!
~Love, Your Friendly Neighborhood Assassin~