The Eye Of The Beholder

Chapter 4: No Words

Deadpool

Who knew Spidey actually gave a damn about us?

He...he was crying. He was crying over us...am I dreaming this up?

Maybe he would fuck our ugly ass.

I close my eyes. I've gotta block them out. I'm not gonna hurt Spiderman again.

What if he asks to take our mask off?

"I'm not going to," I whisper. "I'll make up an excuse. I don't want him to leave. Not the way everyone else did."

He's very insistent. He would never drop it as easily as we would.

Just make sure the excuse is reasonable.

"Obviously. Losing him is not an option here. He's the only one who ever really cared."

Besides Weasel.

I stare at myself in the mirror. Weasel was my best friend. He was there when I was fuckin' sexy, when I found out I had cancer, after the Project X assholes fucked me over...Weasel cared that my face was fucked up, but he never left my side. He didn't give up on me just because I looked like an avocado................
When I lost Weasel, I nearly lost my sense of humor and that's saying a lot. Weasel's death was on me. His blood was on my hands and because of the way he died...I couldn't even bury him properly. Use your imagination. It was fucked up and it still hurts.

"Wade," Spidey says, knocking on the door, awakening me from the nightmare I call my past. "Food's ready."

"Okay, I'm almost done," I call in return.

I chuckle to myself a little. He'd make a good house-wife. It'd be kinda nice to live here. His perfect little face waking me up every morning with breakfast. And his place is so tidy. Everything is well organized, practically color coded. What must he think of us, with our place all...fucked up...that's as delicate as I can think to put it...Sorry. Wait a minute. I'm Deadpool. I don't give a fuck about your feelings (yes, I do. I love you guys).

I walk out of the bathroom, my suit still a little wet from cleaning off the dried blood. The first thing I see is a platter of chimichangas and tacos.

"Awww...Baby boy, you know me so well," I coo.

He laughs. "It doesn't take rocket science to know your favorite foods." He sits on the couch in front of medium-sized flat screen, with a few tacos on a small plate for himself. He pats the seat next to him on the couch with a still glove covered hand. I grab the entire platter and oblige.

"Spiderman?" I say, my mouth half full of a taco.

"Hmm?"

"Don't you still have like...school or something?"

Are you trying to get rid of him?

"Yeah, but I'm not really gonna worry about it right now." He shrugs a little.

My face muscles contract indicating my confusion. "Why?"

"Because my friends are more important to me than my school work and I'm more worried about you than I am about school."

Awwww....

"Really? I--I wouldn't worry 'bout me. I'll be fine. You know me. I'll be okay," I half stutter in shock, trying to pass it off.

"Wade...you just shot yourself in the head." He puts his plate down on the coffee table.

He's got a point.