Chapter Text
Cable knocked on Althea's door. It rattled on its hinges, the warped wood giving slightly under the knuckles of his metal hand. He winced, unable to ignore the building's state of decay. There was a blue tarp draped over part of the roof. Numerous shingles were missing. Mold was crawling up the alley-facing wall. The windows were thick with grime. It made Cable sore just thinking about the amount of work it needed. He'd seen plenty like it in the city, especially on the outskirts and the post-industrial ruins his job tended to take him and Wade. He hadn't expected civilization to already be in such a state of decay in this era. In many ways, compared to his future, this place was paradise. But the cracks were already beginning to show. Althea's duplex was definitely one of them.
Cable knocked again. And again. Rang the shitty doorbell that probably didn't work, and finally gave up. He wedged one of the plastic cards gas station cashiers kept giving him in the space between the door and the frame. He pried the card back and jiggled the handle in a coordinated, practiced motion. The door swung open. He stepped inside, closing the door carefully behind him.
"Cable," Al said, shuffling slowly out of the kitchen with a cup of hot tea. The smell of freshly baked bread followed her into the hall. She'd gotten used to him coming and going.
"Al," Cable said.
"Watch yourself," Al said. "He's antsy today."
"Noted," Cable said. Al waved vaguely in what she thought was his direction. It wasn't, she ended up waving at the overloaded bookshelf across the room from him. He was beginning to wonder if she did this on purpose. She felt her way down the hall to her room, cursing as she tripped over the pile of garbage spilling out of Wade's. Cable let out a long sigh, and made his way into the living room. Wade was laid out on the couch, wearing a pink robe, a bright purple pair of socks, and his ever-present blue crocs. He had a ridiculously huge pair of headphones over his ears, and his eyes were closed, but Cable could tell he wasn't sleeping. One blue croc was hanging off the side of the couch, jiggling slightly. Cable touched Wade's shoulder, and before he could barely blink, Wade was sitting upright, the mouth of a pistol shoved at Cable's face.
"Jesus, Wade," Cable raised his hands. "It's me."
"WHAT?" Wade asked, clearly unable to hear Cable over whatever he was listening to. Cable snatched the gun out of Wade's hands and ejected the magazine. Full. Round in the chamber as well. Cable shook his head. Wade slid off his headphones, making a show of sticking out his lower lip and grabbing for the gun. Cable held it out of reach.
"Point this at me again, and I'll shoot you with it."
"Kinky." Wade said, standing up. Cable didn't try to stop him from taking the gun back this time. "But if you'd, you know, randomly break into my house at a more reasonable time of day, and not at 3am while I'm listening to my sleepytime ASMR, then I'd be less inclined to shoot you."
"Wade....its the middle of the afternoon."
"Oh." Wade sat down. "Well, shit." Cable sat next to him.
"How long have you been trying to sleep?"
"No idea," Wade said. "Technically, I don't really have to, but you know. It'd be nice."
"Yeah," Cable said. "I know."
They sat in silence for a long moment. Cable was almost a head taller than Wade, and the way Wade was slumped over his lap made him look even smaller in comparison. Cable was worried, to say the least. All he wanted was to reach out, touch Wade's shoulder, run his hand over the knobby scars of Wade's scalp, hold Wade close until the pain eased. But he knew better. Wade would just pull away.
"So, tall, dark and handsome-as-a-chunk-of-granite, what innocuous piece of information have you broken into my lovely home to deliver today?"
"We need to pick up a job," Cable said. "I'm running low on cash."
"Well, ask Weasel, I don't know why I've got to be involved in this," Wade said. "I'm enjoying my temporary retirement."
"Bullshit." Cable said, rolling his eyes. Wade'd been spouting that one, and all manner of other excuses, for weeks. Cable knew this for what it was. Wade was stuck in a rut. Truth be told, he could've found work without Wade, but working with Wade... Well, they worked well together, and Cable wasn't used to working alone. And he had to admit--they were one heck of a team. Even when Wade did something idiotic, which was often.
"Come on, you don't want me along," Wade said. "I'm the king of fuck-up."
"We're a team," Cable said. "X-Force, remember?" Wade let out a snort of laughter.
"Yeah, for like, five whole seconds."
"Keeping a group like that together isn't easy," Cable said. He should know. He'd been kicked out of more squads than he could count.
"Yeah, whatever, just fuck off and let me go back to not-sleeping, okay?" Wade pushed at Cable, trying to get him off the couch. Cable didn't move an inch.
"Listen, dipshit, I've got no reputation, I can't just strike out on my own," Cable said. "Plus, Weasel's been selling us as a package. No Deadpool without Cable, and so on." Because you temper the crazy, like diluting jet fuel. Cable could hear Weasel's voice, clear as day, in his head. He couldn't help but grimace at the thought.
"Well, jeez, if that's how you feel about it."
"That's not what I fucking meant and you know it." Cable rolled his eyes. "Listen, will you just get off this fucking couch for once? You can't stay here forever."
"Excuse you, I get up to pee and eat, thank you very much." Wade raised an eyebrow, and waggled one index finger at Cable.
"Jesus Christ," Cable massaged the bridge of his nose. "Look, if you'll get dressed and come to St. Margaret's with me, I'll let you buy me a phone."
"O-M-G, really???" Wade's face lit up, his big brown eyes sparkling. Cable felt something twist in his chest. He looked away before the feeling could blossom into anything more troubling.
"So help me God, yes," Cable said.
"Okay, but we gotta go get the phone first, before the stores close."
"Fine. Just, please, take a shower."
#
Cable sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He stood in an enormous store, full of trinkets, games, devices he'd only seen in heavily damaged historical records. Some of them the ancient ancestors of the AI in his arm. He wore his scarf tight around his neck and his collar turned up, but he could still feel the idle customers in the store staring as they passed. He was big, and half metal, and Wade was...well, Wade. This place was too public.
"I don't like this," Cable said.
"Will you just chill the heck out for a second, grumpnuts?" Wade said. "We'll be out of here in a couple hours, max. I know, I know, the stink of capitalism. Never fear, your good pal Wade is here to guide you through the minefield of smartphone selection."
"Why is it going to take so long? It's just a phone."
"Oh, you poor thing," Wade shook his head, tutting softly. "Just follow my lead. It's best just to go along with the sales pitch. They're required to give it to you. Bottom line, and all that. So, do you want 32 gigabytes or 64? Trust me, bigger is better. I've got six SD cards full of nothing but Golden Girls slash. Mmmm."
"I don't care," Cable said. "These devices are primitive at best." He took the phone Wade held out to him--it was connected to a flashy display by a thick cord--and tapped the screen idly. It took him a second to realize why it wasn't responding to his touch. It refused to pick up on his metal hand. "Wade. This doesn't even detect my arm."
"Listen," Wade said. "You can text with one hand. I've done it with less, trust me. I'll get you a special glove if I've got to."
"You have to purchase more accessories to even make this useful?"
"Oh boy, just you wait babe, we haven't even gotten to cases and earbuds yet. At least I'm getting you one that has a headphone jack."
Wade took the phone out of Cable's hand and handed him another, nearly identical one. The salesperson standing behind the desk nearest to them smiled at him, her green eyes sparkling from behind thick glasses.
"Is there anything I can help you with?" She asked, smile never wavering. "I can help you get that set up, if you need."
"Thank you, that won't be necessary," Cable said, returning the smile. He turned back to the display to find Wade staring him in shock, mouth agape.
"What is it now?" Cable said, letting out an exasperated sigh.
"Sorry, I've just never seen an old white man being polite to a service employee in the wild," Wade said. "Things really are different in the future, huh?"
"There's no reason to be rude."
"Reason has no purchase here," Wade said. "This is retail."
"Whatever you say," Cable said. "This one is adequate." He handed the phone back to Wade. In truth, he really didn't care. Most of these didn't have enough processing power to even be remotely useful to him. But he recognized the need for him to have some way to interface with the systems of this era.
"Are you sure? We haven't even scratched the surface--"
"Please, Wade. Let's just buy it and go," Cable said. "You can get...the case? And whatever else it needs."
"Oooh?" Wade's yellow eyes lit up. "No takebacksies?"
"No takebacksies," Cable said, repressing a smile as this provoked a fit of giggles from Wade. Twenty minutes later, they were back at the desk with Nate's new phone, a bright pink glitter case, an assortment of brightly colored charms and matching earbuds. The girl with the glasses had been replaced with another girl, with dark skin and fluffy black hair like Domino's. One of her arms was a prosthetic. Her name tag identified her as Kiley. The old woman ahead of Cable and Wade in line was staring at the cashier, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her eyes kept darting between Kiley's hair and her prosthetic, as if she expected Kiley to drop one of her purchases.
"Here you go, m'am," Kiley said, and handed her a plastic bag. "Have a good day." The old woman shuffled off without a word. Nate felt resentment coming off her in waves: [they shouldn't be hiring people like that, so unprofessional].
They stepped up to the counter. Wade put their items on the glass surface, all the while chattering away. Nate wasn't listening, neither was Kiley by the look on her face.
"Here you go," She said, after Wade had paid. "By the way, you two are adorable. Solidarity." She held out her prosthetic toward Nate. He stared blankly at it in response.
"Oh, we're not--we're not--" Wade stuttered. He elbowed Cable and leaned in so he could whisper in his ear. "Fist bump her, damn, you're so rude."
"Fist--what?"
"Make a fist with your winter soldier arm and bump her hand. Jeez, weren't you paying attention to my lecture about 21st century customs?"
"No," Cable said, honestly. He bumped fists with Kiley, who was barely holding back a fit of giggles.
"Seriously, you two make a cute couple."
"We're not a couple. Thanks, bye!" Wade handed Cable the bag and swept them out of the store, leaving Nate feeling a little bewildered. That was probably the fastest exit he'd ever witnessed Wade make out of a conversation. Usually it took him at least five minutes or so of useless, if charming, babble. Wade didn't speak again until they were sitting in the back of Dopinder's cab, on their way to Sister Margaret's. Nate let out a soft sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him. Glad to be out of the bright, noisy environment of the store. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to being surrounded by countless anonymous strangers. The noise of their overlapping thoughts alone was enough to make him nauseous.
"Here, I'll help you set it up," Wade said, flapping his hands impatiently at the bag in Cable's lap. Nate wordlessly handed it over. He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. His shoulder ached where the virus met his flesh. His back ached from supporting the weight of the arm. He hadn't been able to supplement it with TK lately--fighting off the virus was taking up every scrap of his energy. The hum of the virus' semi-sentient consciousness was louder than ever in his head. The pain from line it cut across his torso was bright as a knife wound. The virus was fever hot under his skin, a constant burning pain that would swallow him whole if he thought about it too long. He could feel the virus inside him, grating against flesh and bone every time he moved.
Wade snapped the phone into its pink case, wove the charms into a slot at its base, and plopped it in Cable's lap. Cable picked it up and examined it, paging through the enormous number of applications Wade had somehow managed to download onto it in under three minutes.
"What is all this useless junk--"
"Don't you dare call my Insta useless," Wade said, letting out an offended gasp. "And there it is, the source of the author's mysterious, wacky title."
"What the fuck are you talking about."
"Just give it a chance, alright?" Wade said. "I promise it's worth it. Give in to the dangerous allure of Web 2.0."
"Fuck," Cable muttered, and closed his eyes again. He made a mental note to hook the phone up to the AI in his arm once Dopinder dropped him back at his apartment. That thought had barely formed before he was drifting off, lulled by the vibration of the cab and Wade's nonsensical, stream-of-consciousness jabbering.
He dreamed, as always, of the battlefield. His enemies this time were faceless, shape-changing. He thought he caught the hint of Canaanite colors one second, Apocalypse's monstrous hoards the next. One figure stood out in the masses of soldiers, a dark outline against the bright flash of gunfire. A tattered, dirt-brown cloak swallowed their slight frame. A hood shrouded their face in darkness. A huge rifle was slung across their back. They lifted a hand and pointed at Cable, saying words he couldn't make out. There was something...familiar, about them. Something Nate could feel but not place.
He opened his mouth to call out to them, but before he could speak they disappeared behind a caravan of tanks and armored vehicles. He stumbled after them, struggling through knee-deep mud. But by the time he reached the place they'd been, the battlefield had swallowed every trace of them.
Cable kept searching, wandering. Sometimes he caught a glimpse of cloak billowing in the wind, or the flint of a rifle barrel in the run, but it was gone before he could react. He crossed the topography of countless battlefields, the curves of each he knew as intimately as the body of a lover. But the further he walked, the more they morphed and twisted together. Paths didn't lead where they should. Rivers flowed where before there had been nothing but dust. Rocky alcoves with hidden enemies appeared where there had been none. Thick, wild forests lining the walls of canyons were instead barren desert without a hint of cover. At every turn, the shadowy figure alluded him, until he was on the edge of despair.
A shell blasted a crater centimeters ahead of him, knocking him back. He lost his footing and slid into a deep gully littered with twisted metal and craters. His failing sense of direction shattered like glass on rock. He couldn't remember where he was. The path he'd been following vanished into the dark as a thick fog fell over the battlefield. The twisted hulks of burned out war machines loomed over him in the gloom. Eyes gleamed at him from the shadows, vanishing like distant stars when he turned to look. The feeling of being watched spread through him like rust in metal, eating away at the fortress he kept between his waking mind and the dark, swirling mass of his subconscious.
Something brittle crunched underfoot. He looked down, realizing he stood in an ocean of bones. They were bleached white and gleaming in the light of a huge, red moon hanging low in a starless sky. The bones stretched to the horizon in every direction.
Every muscle in Cable's body ached. Putting one foot in front of the other grew more difficult with each passing moment. But he couldn't stop. Couldn't stop. They--Canaanites, Apocalypse, whatever--would catch him if he did. He had no choice but to persist, a weapon running long past its warranty and held together with spare parts and iron will. As the bones began to shift and buck under his feet, he opened his mouth in a scream heard by no one in a dead world. He tried to run but the bone-littered earth pulled him under like water. There was someone--someone calling his name, muffled by the ringing in his ears. He tried to reach out to them, but all he got was static.
"Cable! Cable! Shit, fuck. Dude, wake up!"
Of course. Wade.
Cable blinked into consciousness. Wade shook him again, his eyes wide and wild with fear. The taxi was still running but stationary, pulled off the road into an alley. Dopinder stared at Cable, mouth agape, one arm slung over the seat. Cable straightened, unable to manage more than a grunt of acknowledgment as he pushed Wade's hands away.
"Dude, you went full on post-traumatic-screaming-in-your-sleep there for a second," Wade said. His hands still hovered over Cable's chest, as if he were trying to ward off whatever he thought was haunting Cable's dreams. Cable grunted again, rubbing his eyes, trying to free his mind of the murk of the calico battlefields of his nightmares. He could still feel the crackle of laser fire burning through the air just overhead. Smell cooking flesh from soldiers turning to ash under jets of flame. He shuddered, trying to find an anchor in the waking world. His mind settled on the technicolor static of Wade's thoughts. It drowned out the frantic circles his mind was running around itself and gave him a chance to regain his composure. It was enough to tether him to reality.
"...S'alright," he managed. Even though he couldn't read Wade's thoughts, he could still feel concern coming off him in powerful waves. "I'm alright."
"Yeah, and my cancer's in remission," Wade snapped back. But he lowered his hands, and didn't push Cable for details. Nate was grateful. Even if he had been prepared to explain, he doubted he could find the words to do so.
"So, uh," Dopinder started.
"Yes, yes," Wade said. "Carry on. We'll just pretend this little incident never happened, in the tried-and-true methods of toxic masculinity." Dopinder wordlessly put the taxi in gear and pulled back onto the road. Nate spent the rest of the drive to Sister Margaret's fighting off drowsiness. He nodded off a few more times, his head drooping onto his chest. He expected Wade to laugh, but Wade remained sat in silence.
#
They reached the bar. Dopinder parked out back. Cable and Wade slipped in through the back, through the kitchen, and around the bar. Weasel spotted them and rolled his eyes. He'd chided them countless times for coming through the back. He'd threatened to make Wade wait tables if they didn't stop. Wade showed up in booty shorts, a crop top and roller skate and did exactly that. Weasel let it go after he saw the mountain of tips Wade had at the end of the night.
Cable followed Wade and sat down next to him in a haze, barely looking where he was going. Weasel sauntered over, idly cleaning a glass that was already sparkling clean. He set it down on the counter and scowled at Cable and Wade.
"What'll it be tonight, boys?"
"Just business," Cable said, before Wade could open his mouth. Wade stuck out his lip, making puppy eyes at Weasel this time. Weasel, to his credit, was much better at ignoring Wade than Cable.
"Well, business has been slow lately, 'specially for you two sacks of numbnuts," Weasel said. "Don't get many requests for the now-fugitive Deadpool and his time-traveling cyborg boy toy."
"Don't look at me," Wade said, raising his hands. "Cable's the one who needs the money."
"Don't lie to me," Weasel snapped. "I've seen how much cocaine you can snort in fifteen minutes." Cable chuckled, shaking his head.
"Alright, alright," Wade said. "You got me on that one. I do love some of that sweet, sweet snow."
"'Some,'" Weasel muttered, shaking his head. "Alright, well, mostly what I've got is some generic corporate stuff." He pulled out a short stack of folders from somewhere under the bar. Cable picked them up and shuffled through them, pursing his lips. Wade bobbed behind him, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the folders in Cable's hands. Cable ignored him.
He had to be careful what jobs he got involved in. The timeline was a house of cards, one wrong step from someone with foreknowledge could send the whole thing tumbling. Worse, the 21st century was critical -- a flash point of historically significant people and events. It was why he'd come here in the first place.
He split the folders into two piles, and slid the smaller one towards Weasel.
"That should be enough to keep us busy," Cable said.
"Don't I get a say?" Wade whined, still hovering just behind Cable's shoulder.
"Do you care?"
Wade hesitated, considering, and let out a short sigh. "No, not really." He admitted, and slouched against the counter, his back to the bar.
"We drinking tonight?" He asked, his yellow eyes glittering, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. Cable couldn't help but return it.
"Fuck yeah," Cable said. Wade laughed, bright and loud. The sound of it warmed Cable's chest. Just having Wade around dulled the ever-present ache of the virus, but seeing Wade happy made Cable feel a little lighter on his feet. He hadn't realized until now how much he'd missed Wade. When Wade wasn't in one of his black moods, he could light up a room like no one Cable had ever known.
"Alright then," Weasel said. "Well, what can I get you boys?"
"Something strong," Cable said. He turned away from the bar, turning just in time to catch Wade mouthing "BLOWJOB" at Weasel. Cable rolled his eyes, heat rising in his face. His heart pounded in his chest like he was a love-struck teenager. The worst of it was that he never knew if Wade was actually interested, or if it was just another joke.
"Two blowjobs, coming up," Weasel said. "Can't believe I actually put that on the menu."
It'd been months since they'd done something like this. Wade had been too deep in his post X-Force stupor to do much besides be a lump on Althea's couch. Cable had been busy seizing any excuse to keep his mind off the virus. He'd been running on fumes for weeks, afraid of what might happen if he slowed down. He was on the edge of a precipice, desperation and sheer iron will the only things keeping him from tipping over. He'd always been living on borrowed time, but he'd never felt it as acutely as he did now.
But tonight, against his better judgment, he would drink and try to forget.
Weasel brought them round after round of drinks. Cable took whatever Wade put in front of him, outside of a couple sugar soaked cocktails he knew would turn his stomach. Wade filled the space between them with talk -- complaints about Althea's shitty landlord, celebrity gossip, movies and TV shows Cable had never heard of, the local politics of Althea's very insular neighborhood, and a thousand other things. The cadence of Wade's voice lulled Cable into something like a meditative state, and he found himself hanging on Wade's every word. He listened, nodding his head occasionally as if he were keeping time, and drank until he could hardly sit up in his chair.
By the time they stumbled out of the bar, Dopinder had given up waiting on them, and the street was empty and quiet. Weasel shut the door behind them with a snap. The sound of the lock turning over grated against Cable's ears. His mind wandered, catching a glimmer of the man's thoughts;
[--should start taking bets on when those two are finally gonna fuck--]
Before Cable's inebriated mind could grasp the meaning of it, Weasel's thoughts slid out of focus. Cable let them go -- too drunk to care. He leaned into Wade, one arm sliding around Wade's waist with the sort of casual boldness that only a drunk can manage. Wade went rigid, his heart beating fast under Cable's ear as Cable settled against Wade's chest. They stood there for a long moment. Long enough that even in his sodden state Cable began to wonder if he'd done something wrong.
Before he could follow that thought any further down its dark road, Wade put his arm around Cable's shoulders. Cable leaned further into him, laying the full weight of his metal arm on Wade's hips. "Holy Mary Mother of Fuck, are you made of lead?" Wade groused, stumbling a little under Cable's weight. Cable grunted in reply, his eyes still closed. If Wade had let go of him then, he would've dropped to the pavement like a stone, and staid there.
Wade half carried, half dragged Cable down the street. Cable's apartment wasn't far, but by the time they reached it the pleasant haze of drink had begun to fade, leaving Cable feeling stiff and sluggish in its wake. His joints felt fused in place, his muscles rubbery and useless. The ache in his back had returned with a vengeance. Wade stumbled again under his weight, cursing. Cable muttered an apology, his face growing hot with embarrassment. He tried to take a few shuffling steps on his own, but all he managed to do was trip and step on Wade's foot.
"Steady there old man," Wade said as they entered the lobby. "Goddamn, didn't know you were such a lightweight."
A small sliver of relief ran through Cable -- Wade thought he was still drunk. That his weakness was temporary. Cable told himself it was easier that way. He'd never liked the way people treated him after they found out about his illness. They walked carefully around him, holding their breath as if just by breathing his air they might catch the virus. They assumed he couldn't be relied upon. That he would fail.
Cable didn't want Wade thinking of him like that.
Wade pulled him into the elevator, Cable pressed the button for the third floor, and they rode up in silence. Wade hesitated as they stepped out of the elevator, letting Cable's stumbling steps lead them down the hall. It hadn't occurred to Cable until that moment that Wade hadn't actually been inside his apartment yet.
He stopped in front of number 10's shabby gray door. Wade started digging through Cable's jacket pockets, looking for keys. Cable gestured at the doorknob, turning the mechanism inside with his TK. It clicked, and the door swung open. Cable sagged against Wade, a fresh wave of exhaustion rolling over him.
"Oh-kay, that was weird," Wade said, raising an eyebrow, but didn't question it further. He helped Cable inside and closed the door behind them. Cable's apartment was small -- a living room, a cramped kitchen, and one doorway leading into a solitary bedroom. Wade headed towards it, and deposited Cable carefully into the bed within. He turned to leave, but before he could step away from the bed Cable caught his wrist in a loose grip.
"Stay," Cable said. His voice was hoarse and thin, barely a whisper in the quiet room. Wade hesitated for a long moment, the velvet dark of the bedroom hiding his expression.
"You're drunk," Wade said, gently pulling free from Nate's grip. He patted Nate's shoulder. "See you tomorrow?"
"Mmmm," Nate muttered, already half asleep. Wade slipped out of the room, the door closing quietly behind him.
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