... Oh, god. Don't cry — if you cry, I'll cry, and then we'll have to go out and buy kleenex, because there's no way in hell I'd use any box of kleenex at your house—
[Except he looks and sounds worried, like someone who doesn't want to embarrass Wade but also knows he can't mask his sympathy pangs. God, that's just depressing, DP, and it makes his heart and stomach twist around all screwed-up-like. Peter knows what it's like, for someone to die because you're not fast enough. He's done it over and over and over — civilians, mostly, but also some of the most important people in his life. Failure is hard, and he's not gonna pretend he didn't cry after a number of those moments where he was so close.
A hush falls over them, as he sits up, too, looking over with a frown.]
... I bet if I asked her opinion about everything you just said, she'd say something really different.
[ Wade turns to look at him, mask pretty expressionless for someone who is usually emoting through it. Does someone as expressive as him even know how to school his features? ]
Yeah, love does that. It makes you blind to all the shitty stuff. [ It's dangerous when it comes to guys like him. There's far more shitty stuff in his life than should ever be overlooked and he knows it. It's even more dangerous that she makes him feel like he can overlook the shitty stuff. She can get him drunk on the feeling that it's not just another intermission between another train wreck.
He takes in a deep breath. ] So you're a social crier, huh?
[ He looks back at the picture of Vanessa, apparently not quite ready to stick it back in the envelope. ]
[He absolutely studies that expressionless mask. For a sign of anything, really.]
Oh, yep. I have the embarrassing honor of stumbling out of the theater after Marley and Me and telling everyone my red, swollen eyes were 100% allergies. I'll cry watching dramatic Oprah clips on youtube. Really, the sky's the limit.
He just sits there patiently, though, frowning a little.]
... I'm guessing it's a good thing I've never viewed this sad movie you speak of, huh? Watching literally anything that doesn't make my eyes sweat sounds more my scene.
-- Wait, you've never seen The Notebook? Seriously? You know we're adding that to the list now. Well, not for now, because I think I've had enough emotions for one night but...
[ He heaves out a heavy sigh, the apology not sitting well with him. ]
Don't worry about it, Bambi. Anything is better than being alone and listening to my own thoughts.
[ Which is true. Especially on matters like this. It just turns into a hate spiral that ends in him talking to himself or the fourthwall and chattering incessantly about how he's the goddamn worst of the worst. ]
There's no way you're gonna get me to watch an emotional chick flick, my heart can't take them.
[But with their momentary lapse in conversation, there seems to be some kind of... reprieve. A moment to rest from their feelings, or something. Because wow, this definitely was not how he thought his night was gonna go. Morning? Morning. Whatever.
He sighs, though, sitting there, unsure what to do for Wade.
It's not like he can just pull a Spider-Man and swing away victoriously saving someone right now.
Instead he just says the first thing that comes to mind:]
[Peter huffs a breath through his nose, sitting with his arms on his knees and sort of just accepting the close proximity as a constant in the equation that is the 'Wade Wilson Theorem'.
If there's one way he can fluster Wade, though, it's saying without much room for uncertainty:]
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[Except he looks and sounds worried, like someone who doesn't want to embarrass Wade but also knows he can't mask his sympathy pangs. God, that's just depressing, DP, and it makes his heart and stomach twist around all screwed-up-like. Peter knows what it's like, for someone to die because you're not fast enough. He's done it over and over and over — civilians, mostly, but also some of the most important people in his life. Failure is hard, and he's not gonna pretend he didn't cry after a number of those moments where he was so close.
A hush falls over them, as he sits up, too, looking over with a frown.]
... I bet if I asked her opinion about everything you just said, she'd say something really different.
That's usually how it goes.
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Yeah, love does that. It makes you blind to all the shitty stuff. [ It's dangerous when it comes to guys like him. There's far more shitty stuff in his life than should ever be overlooked and he knows it. It's even more dangerous that she makes him feel like he can overlook the shitty stuff. She can get him drunk on the feeling that it's not just another intermission between another train wreck.
He takes in a deep breath. ] So you're a social crier, huh?
[ He looks back at the picture of Vanessa, apparently not quite ready to stick it back in the envelope. ]
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Oh, yep. I have the embarrassing honor of stumbling out of the theater after Marley and Me and telling everyone my red, swollen eyes were 100% allergies. I'll cry watching dramatic Oprah clips on youtube. Really, the sky's the limit.
[He's joking a little. But only a little.]
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[ Finally he slips the photo into the envelope. Then another snuffle follows and it's hard to tell if he's still crying or if it's just leftovers. ]
Guess we can never watch The Notebook together, huh?
[ And there's some emotion, he still just looks sad, despite cracking jokes. ]
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[Up's a pretty good choice for waterworks.
He just sits there patiently, though, frowning a little.]
... I'm guessing it's a good thing I've never viewed this sad movie you speak of, huh? Watching literally anything that doesn't make my eyes sweat sounds more my scene.
... Sorry I screwed up making you feel better.
I swear I'm usually better at this.
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[ He heaves out a heavy sigh, the apology not sitting well with him. ]
Don't worry about it, Bambi. Anything is better than being alone and listening to my own thoughts.
[ Which is true. Especially on matters like this. It just turns into a hate spiral that ends in him talking to himself or the fourthwall and chattering incessantly about how he's the goddamn worst of the worst. ]
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[But with their momentary lapse in conversation, there seems to be some kind of... reprieve. A moment to rest from their feelings, or something. Because wow, this definitely was not how he thought his night was gonna go. Morning? Morning. Whatever.
He sighs, though, sitting there, unsure what to do for Wade.
It's not like he can just pull a Spider-Man and swing away victoriously saving someone right now.
Instead he just says the first thing that comes to mind:]
... If I'm Bambi, you're Thumper.
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[ Time for some more humour barriers. Putting up as many of those as possible. ]
Oh em gee, wait you do think I'm adorable you totally admitted you liked my face. That totally means the other part is true too.
[ Hello, that is a masked face leaning into Peter's face's personal space a bit, to squint at him. ]
I'll gladly be your Thumper.
[ omg bffs. ]
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If there's one way he can fluster Wade, though, it's saying without much room for uncertainty:]
Yeah. Well. You are my best friend here, Thumper.
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Now I know you're just trying to make up for snooping.
[ He's too flustered, he needs to hide more. ]
Just so you know I'm hiding all my valuables from here on out.
[ But then he grins behind his mask. ]
This totally means I'm allowed to snoop in your house.
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[He grins back, though, as if he absolutely knows he's flustered Wade.]
What is even worth much around here? I don't know if I could pawn much.
... Maybe I could get a couple Hamiltons out of the couch.