quipsandthwips | Deerington Inbox

[Peter can't help but get excited on Wade's behalf, too, even if he's metaphorically ran over by the energy Wade's adopted at the present; a grin splits his face, and he gives him a little punch at the bicep, all fondness and relief rolled into one. Because thank god. Thank god it's working — that something's going right, after all the horrible crap that's dogpiled everyone in this place lately. He feels his soul re-enter his body for once instead of him struggling to drag the incorporeal bastard back in week after week.]

... Wade, that's awesome—

[But you know, his stupid grin turns to one of confusion when the toothbrush ends up. And his own eyebrows raise a little. And he's about to tell Wade that it's fine, it's all good, he has a little hygiene bag hidden here with a toothbrush and deodorant and all the usuals, things he absolutely had hidden in backpacks through his youth and time as Spider-Man—

But then he freezes, because... is it weird, to already have a toothbrush here?

Is that kinda sound weird?

Maybe his own train of thought stutters alongside Wade's, in the moment.]

... Oh, uh. Yeah, man — a toothbrush is fine! Considering how often I have to make sure you're not keeling over, you know... [He's quick to repair any awkwardness, plucking the toothbrush out of Wade's hand and putting it on his ear like one would a pencil.] Maybe I shouldn't be supplying you with coffee this morning, Mr. Energizer. Sit down before you undo all the work the doc started.

Edited 2019-06-03 22:44 (UTC)

[ That's a curious amount of micro-expressions, ones Wade is definitely trying to follow and translate if the way his eyes flick from spot to spot on Peter's face as they happen.

Okay... He took that... well? Right? But there was definitely something weird there...? Wade's eyes ultimately end up lingering where Peter tucked the toothbrush behind his ear... ] Yeah? [ And, wow, apparently he can turn the wattage up, because he seems to brighten up even more. The threat of no coffee seems to have no effect on him whatsoever.

A chair is tugged out to plop down on though, his grin not faltering at all. He's actually happy. He hasn't been this happy in a while. Months? It's almost intoxicating, but it's always a feeling he tries to chase and ends up crashing and burning at some point. ] God, if this shit had been available at home a lot more people would be way less dead... [ Would they? ] Actually, no, I still would have killed the fuck out of Francis and all of those shit-swizzling fuckbags.

[ ...

Might as well chase it as long as he can. ] I'm pretty sure you're the one with the actual coffee addiction out of the two of us.

[ There's a pause where Wade just watches Peter for a moment, and then lurches to his feet. ] You were going to let me forget! [ He's not looking at Peter, so he's... probably talking to the fourthwall, he's definitely talking to it. There is no taming his zoomies apparently, because he's up to his feet and heading to his room.

When he returns it's with a familiar shirt that had been in tatters and covered in blood, it is neither of those things anymore. Sure, if you look hard enough you can see a light discolouration, but not enough of one that someone not looking for it would notice. The stitches however are practically invisible from the outside. ] I was going to fuck with you and wear it and see how long it took for you to realise, but then I'd actually have to wait for you to notice and I'm not known for having the virtue of patience... Or any other virtue actually... virtues are overrated. Like Ghandi and flavoured lube. [ Does he look prepared to go on about how flavoured lube is overrated, maybe stop him........ ]

[He frowns at the mention of dead people. As he usually does, and there's no less amount of frustration in his brow every time. He clears his throat and sips his coffee, and it's really a miracle he doesn't spit it in the middle of that long-winded rant. Maybe he's just too used to expecting Wade to say this kinda stuff on the daily. Or on the hourly. Yeah, the hourly.

Besides, he's busy being distracted by the sewn up flannel in Wade's hands.]

... Wow. You actually know how to sew without making things look like a Tim Burton movie.

[He carefully takes the shirt in his hand, turning the cloth this way and that.

Looking up with eyebrows high on his forehead:]

Stop whatever horrible thing you're about to continue on with, and I'll thank you.

[ Wade's mouth snaps shut with an audible click of teeth, and he almost looks innocent for a moment, but then that only last for about ten milliseconds because it's open again. ] Lavish me in thanks, I have been waiting for this moment my entire life.

[ He waves a limp wrists at Peter that makes it clear that he doesn't actually want a thank you. ] Bee tee dubs, I sewed my suit. Shocker! I know. You're looking at the next Burda Style.

[ Finally, he settles down ready to actually enjoy a morning coffee with the cute guy that's made it his fucking goal not to see Wade die of cancer. The thought has made him feel weird just about every time he's had it, and he's well aware what it means but he's not going to voice it.

He scratches a blunt fingernail over a stain on the table. ] Actually, I wanted to thank you. Cancer is a fucking full-blown shitshow. I'm talking Mr. Mime levels ugly. You didn't have to do any of that, or stay. I wouldn't have blamed you for leaving. [ Is he calming down or just feeling a bit nauseous? It's a mystery. If Wade's being honest, he regrets not being able to crawl away and find a ditch to die in somewhere, Peter looks tired STILL. Not that he isn't elated that the nanites are working, but this had sorta become a goal he'd never expected to attain, like ever. ]

... Hey, Mr. Mime's just trying to live his life. Whatever he is.

[It's a quiet little reply at first, as he fidgets with the sewn fabric in his hands.]

You really think I'd bail on a friend just because of a C-word? No way.

... And anyway, I'm pretty sure someone who's dealing with cancer doesn't have to thank the healthy, sad lumps around them for sticking around. I mean, I did want to throw you into the lake a few times, but I'm pretty sure the cancer part was irrelevant to those feelings.

[The corner of his lip twitches.

....... Lil' shithead.]

Don't you protect Mr. Mime!

[ Despite that, he has a small little smile on his face. He looks far more relieved than he has in a long time. Feels it too. ]

You could try it, baby boy, but you'd end up in the lake, not me.

[ Look. Even if he knew he was talking to Spidey, he'd be singing the same tune. ]

You'd actually be really surprised. Usually it's like people's go to option. Like when they find out they've knocked someone up. You're totally the type to stick around if you knocked someone up too. Congrats.

[ Wade shakes the thoughts out of his head, and offers Peter a softer look. ] But definitely still feel obligated to bring me coffee daily. I'm not used to the morning company. [ It's nice. Real nice. ]

... Gee, thanks. Good to know I wouldn't be a MIA dad.

[Boy, sure hope nobody gives him a scare someday by faking him out with the possibility for a son.

That'd be stressful as fuck, yanno????]

I'll bring the coffee, you keep making the casseroles for me to steal when you're not looking.

It's not stealing if I'm making them for you.

[ He opens his mouth to say something else -- then abruptly stops.

That's weirdly domestic, huh? ] Yeah, it is. All of this is. I should stab something quick! [ Wade looks around. ] Not him! I'm not stabbing him.

[ Wait! ] You'll keep coming over? [ Reel it in, Pool. Where is his mask, he feels naked. ] I'll make you a million casseroles or pies. Or casseroles AND pies.

[ He's not lonely, what gives you that idea? ]

[He blinks at that, as if Wade had said something surprising. Not bad. Just. Surprising. But really, is it that weird, that a friend makes something for you? Yeaaah, right. Everyone knows why they're both weird about it.]

Well, yeah. I mean, I might stop coming over if your place gets anymore overrun with weird knick-knacks.

... Besides, my place is a dump, most of the time.

So you're saying you don't want to get murdered by a demon possessed doll in your sleep next time you KO on my couch?

[ Wade can't help but grin over at him. ]

A dump is what you're going with? Really?

[ Just gonna zoom past any awkwardness. ]

[He puts a hand on a cocked hip, squinting at Wade.]

First-off: absolutely, 100% that's the reason. Not even a joke. I'm not going to be the victim that inspires the next Conjuring movie.

And second: what word would you use, wise-guy?

[ Wade holds up his pointer finger. ]

Nothing I own is haunted, as far as I'm aware. I'm the scariest thing in this house. But if it was. I am super great at stabbing ghosts so you should see my demon stabbing skills.

[ They're non-existent.

He raises another finger so it looks like he's making a peace sign. ]

Hoarder's paradise?

... Is hoarder supposed to be a positive word now?

[He gives pause, looking around.]

I'm actually kind of thinking we should do an episode of Ghost Adventures here.

Just to be safe.

Nope. [ He pops the p, apparently not very invested in insulting Peter seriously. Or, well, taking it seriously, anyway. ]

Okay, but you're Zak, because you're the cute bossy one. And I wanna use a spirit box. Hey, you're freaky deaky smart, can you make one?

[ Oh, no, he actually seems excited by this idea. ]

Oh, boy, I'm ready for my debut!

[He hops onto his tippy toes, surprisingly well-balanced on the chair he'd been sitting on as he throws some dramatic hand gestures.]

This is Zak Baggins, come at me, ghosts!

[He stops, points an accusing finger at Wade.]

And no, I'm not making you a spirit box; I'm haunted enough by your house.

[ A laugh startles from Wade, but he's grinning like this is the best thing he's seen, and he was literally just excited about eyebrows. ]

Come on! How will I know if anything is haunted if I have no way to talk to the spirits beyond?

[ :( !!!! ]

What if one of them murders me because they wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich but I didn't know because I can't talk to them?

[He lets his arms settle on his bent knees, raising an eyebrow]

You could always just leave peace offerings on the counter.

[... That Peter will eat, when Wade's asleep, like a ghostly Spider-Santa.]

I'm guessing the spirits are telling you they prefer wheatcakes and chocolate to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

[ He's not implying you're a liar and a fatmouth, but he is doing exactly that. ]

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