Heavy Healing

10 Wade

To say that things weren't clearly a little weird as soon as he stepped into Peter's apartment would be a lie.

"Are you working on something?" Wade asked, setting one of their brown paper bags down on Peter's kitchen counter, staring over his shoulder at the strange set up living in the middle of the apartment. There were large linen sheets held up with various light sorts hovering around, a plastic mirror sitting next to the odd station. It looked... like a really bad fort?

"Uh... yeah. I'm trying to make due with what I have. I'm not really used to doing studio work, normally I did candid photography or outside stuff." Peter said, not looking over at Wade as he set down the second bag he was carrying. He could see that Peter's ears were beginning to burn red.

"What are you taking pictures of now?" He asked, wondering if Peter was embarrassed by the setup itself or something else...

"Um," Peter's voice cracked. The poor guy nearly combusted after that. Standing three feet away, Wade could feel the heat of embarrassment rolling off the guy in waves. Peter cleared his throat and shrugged. "Well, you know. It's- it's not. I don't know. Equipment is expensive."

"Uh-huh." Wade nodded slowly. "It was porn, wasn't it?"

"What!?" Peter squawked. "No of course not! Who do you think I am?"

"A desperate young and attractive man in need of a few extra bucks?" Wade raised a brow before shaking his head and waving Peter off. "In the end, it doesn't matter, I want to eat." He gestured at their bags which were growing colder by the minute. He stepped forward to begin dividing up their food. He had taken the initiative again, ordering things for them to share with Peter's input. They'd gone to this fun little local Mexican bar that was a little hip and smelled great. Peter had been right about it being something that he would have found too stimulating if they'd stayed there to eat their meal. Honestly, he hated that Peter was right. Even more so that he didn't feel that Peter should know him that well. He supposed they'd known one another for a while now, but it was just strange. Perhaps it all boiled down to the fact he wasn't used to having friends.  He wondered how Peter felt about it all? 

"Do you want an actual plate?" Peter asked, stepping around Wade to approach his cupboards. They were filled with old Corelle dishware, plates that had been well-loved and were in stages of fading. They didn't look old enough to be the kind that had lead paint, but they were twenty years old at least. He was pretty sure he faintly recalled the same plates from somewhere in his own youth.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be a terrible idea." He nodded. 

He wished he could actually remember something solid about when he was younger, but all he had were the faint whispers of memories and he couldn't tell if they were normal illusions of lost time, or if they were actually gone. Much of his memory had been eaten away by the cancer. More than he could fathom and as much as it was a relief that he didn't even know how much of himself he couldn't remember, it was still terrifying that he didn't really know who he was. Sure, he was Wade Winston Wilson. He had been living a questionable life before he had cancer, a hitman of sorts but not quite as legitimate. Then there was Ajax and the transition. He remembered more of that then he cared to. He wouldn't forget everything if he had the choice, but he wished he could forget some of the horrors of it all. And then he became Deadpool because of that, losing a lot of his freedom as his own person whilst simultaneously gaining some things. He was confident he lost more than he'd ever gained though, and given the option, he'd certainly forego everything and choose to die rather than live the remainder of his life not as himself. 

Not that he could really remember who he was, but he knew he wasn't it. But he was getting closer. Every day it was an uphill battle but despite how awful he felt, today he felt more himself than he had since he mutated. He knew he was getting better.