Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You’re jolting awake from a nightmare, moving too quickly and smacking your kneecap against something solid. As the pain drags you to full consciousness, you can feel a soreness in your muscles. There’s something hard and solid underneath you, the surface a little sticky when you lift your head and peel your cheek off it.

The smell of food hits you, fluorescent lights making you wince as you lean against a rain speckled window and take in your surroundings. A diner. The rest of the tables are mostly empty, the waitress behind the counter not even glancing over as you try to get your bearings.

Sitting on the table directly in front of you is an empty coffee cup, a metal carafe, and a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. Looking across the table, you find him reclining on the bench in the booth with his legs stretched out and his back against the window. The second you make eye contact, you look away and wordlessly reach for the carafe.

“There’s my gloomy girl,” he greets you with a half-grin. “You know, you really need to learn how to pace yourself. You always go too hard too fast and make yourself pass out.”

“What time is it?” The smell of the fresh coffee makes you feel a little better. A warm and almost inviting contrast to the cold rain hitting the window beside you.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t past your curfew.” Wade takes a sip of his own coffee and watches you, waiting for you to start eating. “What’s the worst that can happen if you’re a little late anyway? It’s not like they can fire you.”

What’s the worst that can happen? You don’t know and you don’t want to know. Life is hard and it’s even harder for someone with your…affliction. Most people keep you at arm’s length once they know about it, even your “employers”. Wade Wilson has been the only person that just doesn’t care about it and treats you like an actual person.

“It’s just better to follow their rules.” It’s a quiet response as you reach for the bowl of cream and sugar packets.

Without them, you don’t know where you would be. They make sure you have somewhere to live, make sure that you have food, they pay you a portion of the fees collected for your services. You’re comfortable, aren’t you?

As long as you follow their rules, they’ll take care of you. Be home before the next sunrise after a job, don’t separate from your hired bodyguard, don’t talk to the X-Men. Three simple rules, three very easy to follow rules, to ensure that you aren’t left to fend for yourself on the street.

“Come on. Isn’t there anything you want to do? You’re stuck in a cycle,” Wade argues, resting an elbow on the table. “You go with me to do a job, then I take you home and you just stay there until the next job. Doesn’t that suck? Don’t you get bored? I mean, that seems like a pretty shitty work/life balance.”

Setting his coffee cup down, he looks you directly in the eyes. How long have you been working together? It’s coming close to a year, right? A year since he was approached with an easy gig as a bodyguard for someone with your…talents. All he has to do is go with you on jobs, protect you from getting kidnapped or attacked, and then make sure you get home before sunrise. Most of the time, Wade just hovers nearby and watches you work.

After working together for almost a year, Wade feels like he knows you pretty well. He can tell when you’re about to faint and when that happens, he carries you. He knows that you’re usually lightheaded even after you wake up, sometimes a little shaky. He knows that sweets can usually make you slightly less gloomy, he knows that you can’t resist petting every dog you come across…even the vicious guard dogs. More than anything, Wade knows that you’re not really made for this kind of work.

He wouldn’t say he has a soft spot for you. No, if anyone pointed out the way he acts when he’s with you, he’d say that you just wore him down after so many jobs together. He’s more careful about how he carries you when you pass out, he’s started noticing things about you. Small details that let him know what kind of mood you’re in, whether you’ve been sleeping enough or if you’ve been skipping meals.

Across the table, you’re quietly eating and looking out the window at the rain. The droplets on the glass blur the headlights of the cars on the road, the neon lights on the businesses across the street. There’s always something about your face, even when you’re smiling. It’s like you have gloom embedded into every fiber of your being, this weird sadness that you can’t seem to totally shake.

“Hurry up. We’re taking a detour on the way back to your place.” Wade sees your head snap in his direction, your mouth opening to argue. “I’ll get you home on time. I just want to do something first.”

You should say “no”, you should insist on going home as soon as possible. Even sitting here in this diner might be considered risky. The problem is that you know Wade by this point. He’s not going to take “no” for an answer. He’ll bring you wherever he wants to because he knows that you need him. Honestly, he’s all you really have.

That’s how you find yourself following Wade down an alley, your gaze briefly flicking to a plaque near the door he opens. You don’t have time to read the plaque. Wade slips an arm around your shoulders, keeping you tucked close against his side, and guides you into the bar.

Immediately, you feel uneasy. The atmosphere is hard to describe. There’s a strange tension, despite most of the people in the bar seemingly relaxed. Drinking, smoking, a few guys standing around a pool table. The place is dimly lit and there’s a smell of cigarette smoke and stale beer hanging in the air. It’s rare that you get to set foot in a bar, unless your client for the night happens to request you meet in one.

“Hey, hey, hey! Just relax. I’m not gonna let anyone near you, okay?” Wade pauses in his steps, his fingers pressing at your shoulder through your jacket. “Hey! Where’s Jerry?” he calls towards the bartender.

Behind the bar, there’s a disheveled man with glasses, focusing on pouring some shots. He lifts his head to reply and the second he sees you, his eyes narrow. “Wade, come on!”

“What?” Wade brings you up to the counter with him. “We’re just here to see Jerry’s-”

“She’s not allowed in here,” Weasel hisses. His eyes flick from Wade to you. “You have to leave. Now.”

“There’s Jerry.” Wade turns you away from the bartender, pointing at a table in the distance. Sitting there is a much older man with a mastiff puppy sitting at his feet. “Hey, Jerry? You don’t mind if she pets your dog, right?”

To your amazement, the old man just sips his beer and gives Wade a thumbs up. You look back at Wade, silently questioning if it’s really okay. He’s already launched back into his argument with the bartender so you gingerly make your way over to the table. The puppy starts to wag its tail and it stares up at you with big, wet eyes as its paws start to tap on the floor in excitement.

“Thank you…” You look at the old man and he just nods, gesturing to the puppy. Crouching down, you rub the puppy’s ears and it licks your cheek. There’s this warmth blooming in your chest, this feeling like storm clouds drifting away from the sun. The mastiff puppy almost reminds you of…

Meanwhile, Wade is smacking a hand down against the bar and giving his friend a firm glare. “Look, you have no idea how badly she needed this. It’s just for a few minutes and then we’ll leave. No harm done. Look, Jerry’s fine with it. He doesn’t have a problem with her.”

“He doesn’t have a problem with her, but you know that some of the guys around here aren’t cool with mutants. I’m just trying to prevent a fight.”

Wade leans closer and lowers his voice more. “If anyone tries to start shit with her, I’m contractually obligated to kick their ass.”

“Contractually? Really? Because from my point of view, it looks like you’re going soft.”

“Oh, I’m hard. I’m harder than I’ve been in a while. I’m “little blue pill, call your doctor if it lasts more than four hours” hard.” The words are hissed and his lips twitch up at the corner. Reaching across the bar, he pats his friend’s cheek. “I don’t want to fight you on this. So just play nice with her. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t had a mutant in here before.”

“Look, having her in here is like having a cop in a drug den! You know how many times she’s undone a job someone did? She’s the eraser to our marker, Wade! You already stir shit up by working with her!”

“Hey, Jerry? What do you think? You don’t have a problem with my partner, do you?” Wade calls over to the old man.

The old man doesn’t respond. While you’re petting the puppy and rubbing its chubby little belly, he’s telling you all about his old dog Bosco that he lost in a fire years ago. “He was my best friend,” he mumbles, sighing. “The best dog in the world. Irreplaceable. But I just can’t imagine not having a dog. Bosco II was a good boy, but he just wasn’t the same. Bosco III has some big shoes to fill.”

You’re frowning, nodding, as a tightness settles in your chest. “Bosco sounds like he was perfect,” you quietly comment. Looking at the puppy, hearing Jerry’s stories about his old dog, an old memory is being dredged up. It happens every time you pet a dog. This bittersweetness, this lingering melancholy.

“He was the best! He was always there for me! I could talk to him for hours.” Jerry shakes his head, mumbling something to himself as he seems to get lost in thought.

“Jerry’s going senile.” Weasel attempts to give Wade an intimidating glare, but it’s clearly not working. “Look, just do this for me. As a favor. She got to pet the dog so just get her out of here.”

You’re on what Wade affectionately likes to call “vampire hours”. Be back at your apartment by sunrise, get to leave for jobs at sundown. It isn’t by choice, of course, it’s one of the rules set by them. By the time you’re leaving the bar with Wade, you can see the sky turning orange and pink on the horizon and you know that you have to hurry.

Your apartment is nothing luxurious. It’s above a bookstore that’s been around since the seventies. Quiet, comfortable…secure. A reinforced door, windows that are shatterproof and only open enough to fit a hand through, soundproof walls. They make sure your apartment is stocked with everything you could need so you don’t have any excuse to go out between jobs.

Wade usually drops you off in front of the building, watching you disappear up the stairs through the thick glass door. Today, he slips in alongside you. Trudging up the stairs behind you, glancing over his shoulder and checking the stairwell for possible cameras. He can see one camera positioned to face the door at the top of the stairs and he flashes a smile.

“I guess…I’ll see you when the next job comes up.” You have a hand on the doorknob and turn towards Wade, expecting him to say goodbye and leave.

“Hey. How long have we been working together?” He keeps his eyes on yours, keeps that relaxed smile in place.

“I don’t know.” Honestly, you haven’t really been keeping track. It’s just been nice to work with someone that doesn’t care about your affliction. You’re pushing the door open, knowing that the sunrise is fast approaching.

Wade takes a step closer, onto the step just beneath yours, and puts a hand against the doorframe. “It’s been almost a year and I still haven’t seen your place. We still have a little bit of time left. Can I just take a peek?”

It’s an odd request. Sure, he’s asked about your apartment before, but he’s never asked to come in. It raises a few alarm bells, but you can’t be sure about his intentions. Wade is…weird. He doesn’t seem threatening right now and you don’t feel like you’re in danger. It just feels strange.

“Come on. I just want to see what it looks like. Look, if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine sometime. Deal?” Wade is already leaning closer and when you hesitantly nod, he grins. He steps in behind you, immediately glancing around to check for security cameras, but it looks like they give you some actual privacy inside your apartment.

“Just don’t close the door, okay?” You look back at him and see him nod. Once the door closes after one of your jobs, there’s an electronic lock that keeps it closed until your next job or until you get a grocery delivery. You can’t unlock it from the inside. So, confident that Wade will leave the door open, you turn away and start walking into the living room.

He lingers near the door, watching you for a moment. Then he looks back at the camera that’s pointed at the top of the stairs. Fuck the rules. What’s the worst that can happen? Wade quietly nudges the door closed and follows you, not realizing that he’s just sealed himself in the apartment for an indeterminate amount of time. They may or may not open the door early, but if he’s sealed in there with you, they at least know you can’t escape.

Chapter Text

You never would’ve imagined spending the morning with Wade, sitting together on your couch and watching one of the romcoms from your movie collection. There’s a bowl of popcorn sitting on the coffee table in front of you, drizzled with some of the sweet and sour sauce he found in the back of the fridge. He’s passing the pint of Ben & Jerry’s to you, not taking his eyes off the tv screen.

This is the first time you’ve ever had a guest in your apartment. A real guest. Not one of your bosses, not a doctor coming in for a physical. This is your partner…this is your friend…and he seems so unbothered by the fact that he’s stuck in here with you. When you told him about the lock, you expected him to be annoyed at the very least, but Wade is just treating this like a slumber party.

Neither of you know when the door’s going to be unlocked again. It could be days before the next job, maybe even a week. It all depends on the demand for your “services”. Until then, you have him all to yourself. Of course, you feel guilty that he’s been dragged into this, but part of you feels a little relieved to not have to be alone again, even if it’s just for a short amount of time.

“So, what’s your situation? We’ve been working together for almost a year, but you never talk about yourself,” he points out, still watching “The Proposal” on the tv. “You have a boyfriend? Family? Friends? You don’t have any photos around this place. Your apartment looks like an Ikea employee staged it for a real estate listing.”

“I didn’t decorate it,” you admit. Slouching a little, you gather a spoonful of ice cream and focus on the tv. “My bosses hired someone to do it.”

“You didn’t get to decorate your own apartment? Do they let you do anything for yourself?” Wade takes the pint from you and digs around for a particular morsel buried in the ice cream with his own spoon.

“No…not really.” There’s a frown tugging at your lips as the realization sets in. It’s been like this for years, so you just got used to it. Even before you started working with Wade, you were isolated. You weren’t pampered by any means, but it was more like they just didn’t trust you to make decisions for yourself. They picked out your groceries, they decided when you would get something new for your apartment, they determined if you’d earned more DVDs for your collection.

“What does your family think about it?” He scrapes the side of the container, getting a particularly tasty scoop while he talks.

“They don’t know. I haven’t seen them since I was sixteen.” You don’t look at him, but you know that he’s looking at you. Your grip on the spoon tightens and you lower your head, shifting your gaze from the tv to the coffee table. “I ran away from home and I haven’t seen them since.”

There’s a lot left unsaid. The reason why you ran away, the fact that they never looked for you. Your bosses found you at your lowest point a little over a year later and brought you in, promising you shelter and food. Promising that you’d be taken care of as long as you shared your “gift” with them. It quickly shifted from “sharing your gift” to “providing a service”.

“Hey. Look over here.” Wade waits for you to lift your head and turn. He smirks and leans closer, lifting his spoon. “Come on. Let me put this gooey load in your mouth.”

Heat gathers in your face, but you open your mouth and close your eyes. It’s good, really good. Wade got all of the mix-ins into that spoonful and you can feel the ice cream melting on your tongue when you close your mouth again. When you open your eyes, he’s already gathering another scoop for himself.

“Look, I get it. They take care of you, right? I mean, look at this place. You’ve got a fully stocked fridge, you have your movies, you have a nice apartment. But you’re not happy, are you?” He brings his spoon to his mouth and takes a bite of the ice cream, licking the spoon after he swallows. “What do you really want?”

What do you want? What do you want? The money from your work has piled up and you don’t even know how you’ll spend it. You’re not sure if they would even let you out to go shopping alone. Like he said, you have food and you have a roof over your head, but those things don’t make you feel happy when you’re stuck spending most of your time in solitude.

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer. You don’t know what you want. If you break away from them, you’ll be on your own. Though you wonder if it might be better if you stay. There’s still lingering prejudice against people with your affliction and you did try to be independent when you were younger, but it was so difficult. You have clientele now, you’ve made a name for yourself, so maybe things would be different this time.

“Fuck it. You know what? The next time we have a job, I’m taking you out afterwards.” Wade can already see you opening your mouth to argue and he shakes his head. “I’m not taking “no” for an answer. I’m going to show you everything you’re missing. And if they have a problem with it, I’ll just tell them it’s our anniversary.”

“Wade, I shouldn’t-”

“What did I say? Look, I won’t take you anywhere dangerous. We’re just going to have some fun. We can even drop by the bar to see Jerry and Bosco III.”

There’s a moment of silence as you consider it. You don’t know what might happen if you break your curfew, but with that being the case, you know that the worst they can do is fire you. Even though the idea of fending for yourself is terrifying, Wade has made you realize something about your life. This isn’t living. You’re not happy and time is slipping through your fingers.

“Okay.” Looking him in the eyes, you give him a nod and smile a little. It’s scary, of course it is, but you want to see what’s out there. You want to be able to experience things you’ve missed out on, to be able to actually enjoy life.

A few movies later and you’re asleep, slumped against his shoulder with a fluffy throw blanket draped around you. The ice cream pint is sitting empty on the coffee table, the popcorn bowl bare except for a few kernels. Wade can feel consciousness starting to slip a little, his head nodding as he struggles to stay awake.

Wade knows you’re out and he carefully maneuvers you onto his back to carry you to your bed. It’s only when he’s standing in the doorway, looking at the plush queen-sized bed against the wall, that he realizes how tired he really is. His thoughts are getting fuzzier with each step closer to the bed and he collapses next to you after he sets you down.

You nuzzle your cheek against the pillow, snuggling against the soft material and releasing a content sigh. He’s never seen you like this before. Calm, relaxed, almost happy. It’s different from when you pass out during a job. Wade drags the blanket over both of you and he watches you for a little longer, his head resting on the second pillow.

He knew that your bosses sucked, but he never realized how short your leash was. He had no idea that they locked you in your own apartment when you weren’t making money for them. Wade didn’t know just how alone you’ve really been. He never knew that he’s the closest thing you have to a friend, the only person that’s consistently in your life.

Look at you. Your eyelids are fluttering a little and you’re gripping the edge of the pillow, gently. Shifting your legs under the blanket and shuffling closer to him. Still asleep, even when he slips an arm around you to pull you against his chest.

He’s all you have, he knows it for a fact now. He knows you better than your bosses. Wade is the only one that even calls you by your real name. Your bosses call you “the asset”, “the mutant”, or “Eulogy”. He can see it in your eyes when he calls you by your name. That little spark of appreciation, that flicker of happiness.

The world is shitty and life can really suck sometimes, but he’ll show you that you can still enjoy yourself. When Wade takes you out, he’s going to show you everything you’re missing out on. He’ll going to do whatever it takes to put a smile on that face and then…

Wade’s thoughts are starting to go fuzzy again. He can hear the soft sound of your breathing, feel your chest brush against his. The last thought he has before he falls asleep is that once he gives you that taste of freedom, he’s not going to let you go back to this. You don’t need them. You can keep working with Wade, cutting out the middleman.

Waking up hours later, it takes a moment for you to register what you’re seeing. On the other side of the bed, Wade has an arm wrapped around your second pillow and he’s drooling a little. The blanket is mostly on his side, but it’s halfway onto the floor and his shirt is riding up, exposing his lower back.

Blood rushes to your face, realizing that he must’ve carried you to bed after you dozed off and just passed out next to you. Not that you can blame him. Your last job wasn’t exactly easy.

Your ability lets you bring back the dead two different ways. The most complex, and taxing, is a true resurrection. That’s when you’re able to fully restore someone’s body and essence, bringing them back to life and reversing their cause of death. An easier, and more common use, is the meat puppet variation where you reanimate their body enough for it to be able to move and control it yourself. There’s an even simpler version of that where you reanimate a body and just give them a particular task.

Sometimes you’re hired to resurrect someone to settle a will or for an interrogation. Sometimes you’re asked to control the dead to carry out a job that’s too dangerous for the living. Sometimes you get paid to bring someone back for much softer, sentimental reasons.

Last night took a toll on both of you. A true resurrection, but it wasn’t for an important businessman, a politician, or even a soldier. It was a little girl, gone way before her time. The five-year-old daughter of a man who took out a loan just to afford the resurrection, just to be able to see his kid open her eyes again and get to live a full life.

The family wasn’t a problem. They were incredibly grateful and accommodating. It was their neighbors that caused you trouble. Pounding on the door while you worked, making demands that you bring back someone for them next. After you lost consciousness bringing the girl back to life, you know that Wade probably had to fight his way out of the building while carrying you.

Looking at him now, watching him sleep, there’s this feeling in your chest. A warmth, something like domestic bliss. For the first time in years, you’re not waking up alone in your apartment. What would it be like if you could have this every day? Being with someone, not having to dread going home.

For just a moment, you think about something dangerous. The idea of leaving for your next job and simply not returning to the apartment. What if you went with him? What if you were able to pick and choose what jobs you take?

Wade moves in his sleep, swinging a leg over yours and shuffling to the center of the bed. The blanket finally slips onto the floor as his arm settles around your waist and he yanks you closer to him. “It’s colder than a prom night rejection in here,” he mumbles against your hair.

You freeze in place, a little stunned. “Wade? We should probably…”

“Nuh-uh.” He tightens his leg around yours, tucking you closer. “I’m not ready to get up yet. We’re locked in anyway. Just relax a little, gloomy girl.” Wade exhales, his warm breath brushing against your neck.

Your heart is pumping hard and fast, but you close your eyes. There’s no arguing with him, you know that. It’s going to be impossible for you to fall asleep again, but you can at least enjoy this for a little longer. He’s held you before, but never like this. You can’t remember the last time someone held you this way.

How much time are you going to have? How long is it going to be until the door is unlocked? There’s a part of you that dreads it. You know that things will have to go back to the way they were. Being locked up alone when you’re not working, hidden away like a tool waiting to be used. Is that really a life worth living?

Chapter Text

You’re not going home after this. The corner of his mouth lifts as he glances over at you. You’re focused on navigating to the morgue of this old hospital, lips set in a firm line as you check the map on the wall. Wade has been on his best behavior today, even though it’s been difficult. Even though he had plenty of things to say to the rep that let you both out of the apartment earlier, he couldn’t risk raising any suspicion.

You spent a week together locked up in your apartment and during that week he was able to really think about the future of your relationship. He’s already decided that this is the last job you’re going to do for them. After your work is done, after they deposit the payment into your account, Wade isn’t going to let you go back to that prison you’ve been calling your home.

He catches you glancing over your shoulder at him and he steps up beside you, skimming the map. “Who designed this place? It’s got more twists and turns than a Shyamalan movie. Okay, let’s see. We’re here, right? The staff elevators are this way. Left, right, right, left, left, and then all the way down this hall and to the right.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Wade turns away from the map and starts walking down the hallway. He smirks, hearing your hurried footsteps as you try to catch up with him. “We should charge extra for this,” he comments, turning around and walking backwards so he can see you. “They couldn’t even bother to store the bodies closer? Come on! You’re doing them a favor by taking this job! The least they could do-!”

“I can’t really complain, though. They set up the job using their connections. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have a job at all. I’d be…” You’re frowning and avoiding eye contact. Almost as if you’re afraid they’re going to overhear you and retaliate.

Wade says your name, making you look at him. “Why do you care about working with them? They’re treating you like the unwanted stepkid that gets locked in the closet when they talk back.”

He can see it in your eyes. The anxiety gnawing away at you, the fear of retaliation, but he can also tell that you know he’s right. Over the past week, Wade has been slowly chipping away at your loyalty. This past week, you’ve smiled more than he’s ever seen you smile in the past year. You’ve talked more than he’s ever heard you talk since you started working together.

He's shown you how happy you can be without them, how you just need him. You’ve been lonely for who knows how long, but you won’t have to be lonely if you’re with him. If you go along with his plan, you can experience everything you’ve been missing out on!

Of course, it’s not like he doesn’t expect to gain something from it. Breaking you away from them means cutting out the middleman. He can arrange resurrection gigs for you and you’ll both get to take home a bigger cut of the fees for your services. It’s a win-win.

Your mouth contorts into a frown as you consider what he said. He’s right, you know he’s right. The people you work for are no better than your parents after they learned that you were a mutant. Hiding you away from the world, keeping you at arm’s length, looking at you like you’re some kind of monster.

“You’re right.” The words come out in just above a whisper, your throat tightening. “But I don’t have any other options.”

Wade rolls his eyes and he stops, making you freeze in your steps. A hand settles on your shoulder and he leans close, bringing his face a few inches from yours. “You do have options,” he argues, tacking on your name. “You just need to grow a pair and pick one.”

“It isn’t that simple! Even if I quit, what am I supposed to do? I don’t have the same connections that they do! And these jobs…some of these jobs…” It feels like your heart is beating so fast that it might pop, like your blood is on fire in your veins. You know that these resurrections aren’t always for benevolent purposes.

The people that you’ve worked with aren’t always as good-natured as the father that hired you to revive his daughter. You’ve revived soldiers to keep them fighting after they fell in battle. You’ve brought back corpses that sat in the ground for so long that their families had long forgotten them, simply for the purpose of unpaid labor or experimentation. Worse, you’ve controlled the dead and made them fight for unsavory clients that paid you obscene amounts of money.

Your bosses have made it abundantly clear what could happen to you if you break ties with them. You could be held responsible for desecrating the dead. The X-Men certainly wouldn’t want to take you in; they would likely make it their mission to bring you to justice. People like you, people that use their abilities for something so shady, just give mutants a bad name.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Wade says, taking a firm tone. His grip on your shoulder tightens and he pulls you forward. Both arms wrap around you, one slipping across your lower back and the other crossing your upper back to pin you against him. “It’s my job to protect you.”

For a moment, you’re stunned into silence. Over the past week, you’ve gotten so used to Wade joking with you and acting all around lighthearted about your situation. This is the first time you’ve seen him act this serious. Your arms hesitantly lift to wrap around him and the second you hug him, your pulse seems to flutter. There’s a warmth blooming in your chest, spreading through your body as you slowly bury your face in the side of his neck.

“I…I want to be happy,” you quietly admit. “I want to live.”

“I know.” His breath tickles the side of your neck as he sighs and rubs his hand up and down your upper back. “I know you do. Look, it’s our anniversary. And I’m going to make sure you have a good time after we finish here, okay?”

The rest of the walk to the morgue, you can’t help but steal glances at Wade. That hug felt different from when he’s just carrying you or the times he held you when you were in bed together. You can’t place what it is exactly, but you can sense a shift in your relationship.

The client greets you curtly and gestures to the rows of tables waiting in the old morgue. Rows of bodies covered by white sheets, waiting for you to reanimate them. It’s a meat puppet resurrection. You just need to reanimate them so they can do simple tasks that you’ll implant into their brains. They’ll move without true thought or free will, acting solely to achieve the goals that you’ve instilled in them.

As you sit on the floor, you can hear Wade taking up his position near the door with his back against the wall. The client is standing out in the hallway, claiming that he doesn’t want to watch the process. Your eyes slide closed and you lean down, pressing your hands against the cold tiles of the morgue floor.

Taking a few deep breaths, you concentrate and start to feel a vibration through your arms. It settles at your fingertips and the skin turns warm, your power gathering there and growing. Your jaw clenches, your pulse accelerating as sweat begins to bead on the surface of your skin. If it was only a few bodies, this would only take a few minutes, but this is rows upon rows of corpses. It’s going to take more juice and you can feel a throbbing in your skull.

When you’re sure you have enough power stored, you release a pulse from your fingertips that spreads across the floor. It surges forward across the tiles, seeking flesh or bone. Opening your eyes, you watch the flickering purple light as it climbs up the table legs and your power enters the bodies. Around the room, corpses are beginning to slowly stir to something adjacent to “life”.

The surge continues further into the room, farther down the rows of bodies until it’s touched each one. Some of them are sitting up now, some of them still in the process of twitching back to life, others are already hoisting themselves off the table to begin shambling towards their new commander in the hallway.

You cut the pulse once they’re all standing and you immediately feel the effect. Blood rushes to your head and your heart beats wildly as you struggle to keep a grip on consciousness. Darkness is beginning to creep in from the edges of your vision, turning everything black as a floating sensation settles over you. Your grip loosens and you lose the fight to stay conscious as you begin to slump over.

Wade rushes forward the second he sees you start to sway a little. Just as you start to fall over, he slips an arm around you and he maneuvers you onto his back. He’s unphased by the corpses shambling past him to get to the door, more focused on making sure you’re stable.

This was a bigger job than your bosses said it would be. You’ve never had to revive this many bodies at once. They’re pushing you, trying to see how much they can get out of you. Wade wouldn’t be surprised if the next job involves even more bodies. Of course, you won’t be going on any more jobs for them.

Your arms are dangling limply over the front of his shoulders as he walks, your legs wrapped around his waist. He’s carried you like this plenty of times in the past, but this is the first time he’s really noticed how you feel. The way your thighs press against his hips, the softness of your chest against his back, the warm tickle of your breath on the side of his neck. Now isn’t the time for him to get turned on, but he can’t help himself.

As he navigates his way through the desolate halls of the old hospital, Wade is calculating how long you’ll be asleep. After a full resurrection where you completely revive someone, you’re usually out for a few hours. A meat puppet resurrection usually makes you woozy, but you can stay awake. You’ve never revived so many meat puppets at once so he can’t be sure how much time he has.

Thankfully, his ride is waiting in the back of the hospital for him. Wade settles your unconscious form into the back seat with the mastiff puppy and he slips into the passenger seat. The older man behind the wheel glances over and Wade nods for him to just drive while he thinks about where he can take you.

When you finally regain consciousness, you half-expect to be waking up on a musty bed in the old hospital with Wade sitting nearby. Instead, you find yourself waking up on a soft bed in an unfamiliar room that you can instantly identify as a hotel room. The sound of a whine draws your attention to the edge of the bed and Boscoe III peers up at you from the floor, the puppy tilting his head.

You’re not sure what’s going on. As you get off the bed, you brace a hand against the wall to steady yourself. Your head still feels fuzzy, but you become aware of a new sound: running water. Looking towards the bathroom, you can feel heat gathering in your face as you realize that it’s the shower. It’s not like you haven’t seen Wade fresh out of the shower before, but it still makes you a little flustered to think about him in there.

The puppy whimpers and nudges your hand, his tail wagging in anticipation. There’s no way you can refuse his request and you sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his ears and smiling when the puppy licks your cheek. He trots off towards the chair in the corner, where there’s a rope toy sitting on the floor, but it draws your attention to something else.

There are two backpacks and at least five plastic bags tucked behind the armchair. You hesitantly stand and take a few steps closer to get a better look. At a glance, it looks like the plastic bags might have groceries in them, but something feels off. You take another step and freeze when you hear the shower stop.

By the time the bathroom door opens, you’re sitting on the edge of the bed again. Playing with the rope toy with Boscoe III, trying to avoid looking at the bags. At the edge of your vision, you can see Wade standing outside of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. Again, you feel a rush of heat to your face, but it’s joined by a flutter in your chest.

“There’s my gloomy girl,” he teases. Wade walks over to the bags behind the chair, completely unphased by the fact that his towel is sitting so low on his hips. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be out so I sent Jerry to get us some food,” he explains, dragging some clothes out of the bags. “He should be back soon. Here! Change into these and bring me the stuff you’re wearing when you’re done.”

You catch the bundle of clothes and frown. “Wade…what’s going on?”

He’s digging around for his own clothes and his lips twitch into a smirk. “We’re taking the next step in our relationship and you’re quitting your job.”

Chapter Text

“All you have to do is type two words. Just put “I quit”. Easier than catfishing a middle-aged man out of his savings using a picture of a porn star.” Wade nudges your shoulder, staring down at the cellphone in your hands.

You can hear the rush of blood in your ears, feel the rapid pounding of your heart as your thumb hovers over the screen. Before Wade, you never would’ve imagined quitting. Without him, you probably wouldn’t be able to push yourself to do it, but he’s opened your eyes. He’s opened your whole world.

He doesn’t know the real reason why you’ve been working together for a year. He doesn’t know that before him, you almost never had the same bodyguard twice in a row. You rarely got to make decisions for yourself after you started working for them, but in the case of your bodyguard, it was one of the few times that they honored your wishes. When you said that you preferred to work with Wade, they continued to hire him for every job afterwards.

It was the truth. He wasn’t like the bodyguards you’d had before. Everyone else was either too formal or too gruff. They kept a distance from you, they made sure that you knew that it was just another job to them and they called you “mutant” or “Eulogy”. Wade is warmer, much more casual, even if he tries to play it off as being meaningless.

Right now, you’re sitting on the floor with your back against the side of the bed. The mastiff puppy is sleeping with his head on your lap and Jerry is asleep in the armchair in the corner. Wade is sitting beside you, waiting for you to pull the trigger on quitting.

Taking a deep breath, you pass the phone to him. “I don’t know if I can type it,” you admit.

“Fine. I’ll take care of it.” Wade slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as he types the words “I quit” and adds a middle finger emoji at the end. With a smirk, he takes your hand and wraps your fingers around the phone. His hand covers yours, his thumb on top of yours to position it over the “send” button.

Staring down at the screen, at that message, it feels like your heart is in your throat. Your stomach is twisting into anxious knots, knowing that once this message sends, your life will never be the same. There will be no going back. If you hit “send”, you won’t have employers to manage your jobs…but you will have Wade.

His breath is warm against your ear and the side of your neck. “All you have to do is hit “send”. You can do it,” he urges you, saying your name. “I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together now.”

There’s a fluttery feeling in your chest when you hear him say that. A little rush of warmth to your face as you tap your thumb against “send”. The message is sent and you don’t wait to see that it’s been read. You immediately close your messages and lower your head, looking down at the sleeping puppy.

“Doesn’t that feel better?” There’s a playful edge to his voice as he hugs you a little closer. Wade’s other hand slips beneath your chin, gripping your jaw to turn your face towards his. He leans in, bringing his lips to yours in a far from innocent kiss.

That fluttering in your chest feels like it’s evolving into full on fireworks. Exploding in your ribcage, spreading sparks throughout your body, sending a wave of heat that claws at your lower abdomen. You slowly kiss back, moving your lips against his and resting a hand on his shoulder.

Romance is a luxury that you’ve never been able to indulge in. Your teenage years were spent as an outcast, your adult life thus far spent as a recluse. As you feel his lips curve into a smile against yours, it almost feels like you could just melt. It’s not exactly love, is it? No, it’s like. You like him, you’ve liked him for a while, but you never thought he felt this way.

When he finally breaks the kiss, he smiles and stands. “Alright,” he starts, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. “Now that that’s out of the way, we can celebrate. What do you want to do first?”

At your feet, the mastiff puppy is standing up and shaking himself awake. It’s cute…too cute. For a moment, there’s this heavy melancholy that settles over you like a cold blanket as you watch the puppy wag his tail and tilt his head.

“Hey. Everything okay?” Wade doesn’t miss the change in your expression. He knows you well enough to know when you’re getting bummed out by something so he can immediately tell that you’re having some less than happy thoughts and he’s not going to stand for it. “Okay, you know what? I know what you need.”

“Huh?” You look a little startled when he grins.

“I know a few places that you’re going to love. You’ve never been to an arcade before, right? We’ll hit up an arcade, we’ll go to a movie, we’ll get dinner at that one pizza place on the corner. And the best part is, you don’t have a curfew anymore. We’ve got all the time in the world to do whatever you want!”

When he mentions the pizza place, you can’t help but smile. The first job you worked together, he carried you to a little late-night pizzeria after you lost consciousness. You’d woken up leaning against his side in a plastic booth with a plate of cold pizza in front of you and you can still remember how amazing that cold pizza had tasted.

The arcade isn’t your first destination. After reluctantly parting ways with Jerry and his puppy, you find yourself following Wade back to the bar. The closer you get to the door, the faster your heart beats as you remember what happened last time. They don’t want you in there.

You know how you look, stepping into the bar and staying close to Wade. You’re not wearing what you’d normally wear when you go out. The clothes that your bosses always told you to wear were dark gray and looked more fitting for a hired necromancer.

What Wade gave you to wear feels unfamiliar, but comfortable. A loose-fitting Ghost t-shirt, a black hoodie, a pair of jeans that are just a size bigger than you’re used to. Comfortable, casual, something that he gave you, and it feels like the new you.

Wade knew that the bar wouldn’t be empty at this time of day, but he didn’t think there would be so many people. He slips an arm around you to press a protective hand against your lower back, shooting a warning look at anyone that happens to stare for too long. “We’re just going to grab a drink and make it clear that you’re freelancing now,” he whispers, sliding his hand to your hip.

He can already see the way that Weasel is looking at you and before he can try to kick you out, Wade grins and hugs you closer against his side. Reaching the bar, he slaps his free hand down on the counter. “Two shots of something strong. We’re celebrating her first night of freedom.”

Across the counter, Weasel shakes his head. “Eulogy can’t be in here. Look, you guys need to leave before-”

“Before what?” Wade leans closer to him, his smile unwavering. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. This is her first night of freedom.” He raises his voice, turning to face the rest of the bar with his hand still resting on your hip. Unsurprisingly, you’ve managed to catch quite a bit of attention and now all eyes are on you.

“Listen up! Starting tonight, Eulogy here is a freelancer! More importantly, she’s a freelancer working with me. So if anyone has a problem with her coming in here, you just let me know. One of you will end up on your ass outside and I can tell you right now that it won’t be her.”

There’s blood rushing to your face and you try to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. The last time you had so many people staring at you was in middle school during frog dissection day. The desire to just disappear is strong, but you can’t even try to turn away because Wade’s hold on your hip is so firm.

He’s trying to make things easier for you, trying to show you that even though the world sucks most of the time, you can still enjoy life. After he makes his declaration, you can finally turn your back to the rest of the bar, and the bartender is begrudgingly setting a shot glass in front of you. It’s filled to the brim and he sets another one in front of Wade before pouring himself one.

You watch Wade down his shot in one quick gulp, throwing his head back to swallow. Lowering your eyes back to the whiskey in front of you, you’re hesitant to drink it. You’ve had alcohol before…when you were a teenager. At your lowest point, in a pet cemetery with a bottle of cheap wine swiped from a convenience store. Exactly where your bosses’ representative found you.

Taking the shot glass into your hand, you decide to do it. Like he said, it’s your first night of freedom. This is the new you. The liquor burns down your throat and you wince at first, not used to the sensation. There’s a pleasant heat settling in the pit of your stomach and spreading through your veins.

Another shot follows another, the alcohol humming through your body as things become fuzzy, but you can’t stop smiling. You can’t stop laughing at every joke that Wade makes, every funny story he tells you as Weasel chimes in with his own. All of that despair, all of that loneliness that you’ve been dealing with, feels like it’s been lifted off your shoulders. You don’t feel like some kind of freak. No, you actually feel…normal…and it’s amazing.

Your brain still feels fuzzy when you suddenly register that you’ve stumbled into the bathroom with Wade. His lips are covering yours, his hands on your hips as he presses your back against the bathroom door. A little clumsily, you slide your hands up his chest and wrap your arms around his neck. Your lips move against his in a whiskey-flavored clash of tongues and teeth.

His hands slide around to your butt, pushing your hips forward against his and grinding against you. He groans into the kiss, already hard and not caring in the least that you’re doing this in the bathroom at the bar. One hand slips around to the front of your jeans, clumsily tugging at the button as the alcohol continues to course through his system.

When you feel him mouth your name against your lips, there’s a tightening in your core. A little tingle that runs through your whole body in the most amazing way. The feeling of warm fingers slipping down the front of your pants makes you break the kiss, pressing your face into the side of his neck. “Wade…”

His fingertips make contact with your skin beneath your navel and begin to trail lower. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he hisses, his fingers pressing against your slit. “And you’re soaked. If I knew you were this into me, I would’ve broken you out sooner.” A finger slips past your lower lips, dipping into you and quickly getting coated in your slick arousal. Wade presses it deeper, feeling your tight walls clutch his finger like a sheath.

Your hands grip his shoulders, your hips moving a little to ride his finger. Your breath hitches as he eases a second finger inside, muttering about how tight you are. He doesn’t know and you’re a little too lost in the sensation of his fingers stroking your sensitive inner walls for you tell him that this is actually your first time.

It aches at first. A slightly stinging pain as your pussy becomes accustomed to the stretch. You keep your face buried in the side of his neck as you cling to him, muffling little grunts and moans as he starts to thrust his fingers in and out at a steady pace.

“There we go. Just let me take care of you,” Wade whispers, curling his fingers and grinning when you moan. He strokes your soft, wet walls and angles his hand to grind the heel of his palm against your clit. With each pump of his fingers, he moves his wrist to roll against your clit in little circles.

There’s a tension quickly building in your core. The muscles tightening and pulsing, your hips moving on their own for you to grind against his hand. Your fingers tangle in his hair near the base of his skull and you open your mouth, shallowly biting into his shoulder to muffle the sounds threatening to escape your lips. Everything feels so warm and it’s almost like the air itself is pulsing around you both. Just as the tension becomes almost unbearable, it snaps.

Your muscles spasm, your walls gripping his fingers in a fast rhythm that has you seeing stars. It’s like a wave crashing over you. Slick coats his fingers from your release and your breathing comes in ragged pants as you cling to him. Of course, you’ve gotten off by yourself before, but this is the first time you’ve done something like this with someone.

While you’re still recovering, Wade slips his fingers out of you. Sticking them into his mouth to lick and suck as he works his pants open with his free hand. He eases them down to his knees and helps you slip out of yours, letting them hang off one ankle as he lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms around his neck, as the hot tip of his cock presses past your lower lips and trails up and down your slit.

“Fuck, you already feel amazing,” he groans, his lips beside your ear. He presses your back against the wall and draws his hips back a little, letting his tip catch against your entrance. With a grunt, he pushes forward and his shaft glides along your tight walls, rubbing at them in a way you’ve never felt before. “Shit…you’re tight as a virgin,” he grunts, thrusting deeper.

It's still a little painful at first, but you rock your hips to meet his and gently tug at his hair. When you angle your hips, you’re able to grind your clit against his pelvic bone and it has you moaning his name softly. Moving to match his thrusts, you can feel yourself gradually losing that painful, stretching sensation and it’s replaced by a bliss that has your ankles locking together against his lower back.

“That’s it, gloomy girl,” Wade murmurs, falling into a fast and rough pace that has you bouncing against the wall with each movement. His lips brush against the side of your neck as he pounds into you, his grip on your hips tightening. “Fuck…this feels amazing! Come on…take it…” A hand moves between you, fingertips rubbing quick circles over your clit to push you towards a mutual climax.

You’re squirming, still sensitive from your last release, but he’s insistent. The tension builds with each circle, the heat growing and pulsing in your lower half as he keeps moving his hips. You might have bruises on your lower back tomorrow, but in this moment, you don’t care. A second climax hits you and your back arches, your pussy clamping down on him as you release.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, moving his hips and holding you against him. When his thrusts start to get sloppy, he goes harder and faster. “Just hang onto me, okay?” The words are grunted and seconds later, he groans and slams your back against the wall again. “Fuck!” Ropes of cum splash against your inner walls in pumps as he finishes, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck.

You’re still panting a little, your walls twitching against his shaft and making him hiss. The alcohol is still warmly buzzing in your veins as you kiss him, subconsciously bucking your hips against his. “Wade…”

“I know…I know.” He breaks the kiss and rests his head against the wall behind you, his own breath still ragged. “I promised you an unforgettable night, right? I’d say we’re off to a pretty good start,” he teases you.

Chapter Text

Your head is pounding as you’re dragged out of sleep by the sharp chiming of your phone. Opening your eyes, your breath catches in your throat. The events of yesterday all come rushing back to you at once as you stare at Wade’s sleeping face. Quitting your job, celebrating with him at the bar, having your first time, and everything that you did afterwards.

There’s a dull ache in your hips and between your legs, a faint pain in your thighs. As you push yourself up onto your elbows, you turn to look at the window on your left. The curtains are open, harsh sunlight spilling into the studio apartment and making you wince. It’s like needles are being driven into your skull, piercing your brain.

This isn’t quite a hangover, you’ve had those before, but it’s a throbbing headache. The phone is chiming again and you recognize that ringtone. It’s not a text message, but a phone call. Not wanting to wake up Wade, you start searching for your phone.

You slip off the edge of the bed and kneel down, digging around in the pile of clothes on the floor. Finally, you find your phone, but you’re pulling it out of the back pocket of Wade’s jeans. A frown tugs at your lips, unable to remember why he had your phone, but your confusion is quickly replaced with panic as the screen lights up.

There are several missed calls and voicemails, even a few dozen text messages. The sight makes your blood turn to ice in your veins. There’s a heaviness settling in the pit of your stomach as you lift the phone to your ear and listen to a voicemail.

It’s one of your old employers. The strict, cold voice of an older woman explaining to you that you’re bound by contract to work with them for a minimum of ten years. You can instantly bring her face to mind because she was the first one you met, after you were picked up in the pet cemetery. Graying hair pulled back into a tight bun, a skirt suit in a deep shade of maroon, heels that clicked harshly on the floor as she approached you.

As soon as the voicemail finishes playing, your phone starts to chime with another new call. You need to say something. Ignoring them won’t make this stop. Taking the phone with you into the bathroom, you cast a glance at Wade’s sleeping form before you close the door.

“I’m sorry, but I quit. I know that we had a contract, but when I signed, I wasn’t told that there was a ten-year minimum!” Your voice is just above a whisper, not wanting to wake Wade. You know that if he finds out that they’ve been calling you, he’s going to take matters into his hands and it might make things worse.

“Eulogy. If you thoroughly read through the contract, you would have seen that it clearly stated that we expect a minimum of ten years of dedicated service. You would have also seen that resignation requires at least a month’s notice before cutting contact. Regardless of whether you read the terms and conditions or not, the fact of the matter is that you signed a legally binding contract and violating our terms can and will result in consequences.” Again, it’s the voice of that older woman speaking in a cold and almost clinical tone.

You’re quiet, waiting. Knowing that you can afford legal fees if they intend to take you to court, but you have this gnawing feeling in your gut. An uneasiness, a suspicion that they’re not talking about suing you or asking you to pay reparations.

“We’re aware that you’re with Wade Wilson,” the woman continued. There was an edge to her tone as she spoke, something sharp and bordering on threatening. “We’ve discussed the situation and we’ve reached a determination. We’ll give you until the end of the day to return to your apartment. Obviously, you won’t be working with Mr. Wilson moving forward. We’re sure that it was his influence that caused you to make the rash decision to breach your contract.”

“I…I don’t want to keep working with you.” It takes a lot of courage to get the words out, but you push yourself. Living in isolation, having your life controlled. Now that you’ve had a taste of what life can really be like, the idea of going back fills you with such an intense sense of dread that it makes your stomach churn.

“Well, you don’t have a choice,” she says simply. “A mutant with your abilities needs to be handled with care and you know that Mr. Wilson isn’t capable of managing someone like you. Eulogy. You need our management. If you aren’t in your apartment, alone, with the door closed, by sundown…Mr. Wilson is going to die. Now, we have taken into consideration how it would be done. Would you like the details? We’ve chosen a method of execution that will be both painful and render his body too damaged for you to successfully resurrect him.”

Your chest tightens, sweat beading on the surface of your skin. It feels like there’s a hand squeezing your throat and you look at the closed bathroom door. “You can’t-”

“Oh, we can. Did you believe that you were the only mutant under our management? We have plenty of people in our employ that we can send. Now, the sooner we can confirm that you’ve returned, the safer Mr. Wilson will be.”

The call ends and your stomach clenches. A coldness settles across your skin and your heart is pounding. Your head is still throbbing from drinking with Wade last night, but you know that you need to move quickly. Slipping out of the bathroom, you see him still sleeping as if nothing’s wrong. Completely oblivious to the fact that your old bosses are planning to kill him.

Panic makes your headache so much worse. Nausea begins to gnaw at you as you get dressed, not taking your eyes off of him. He shuffles towards your side of the bed, reaching around on the empty space, and you tense up. “Wade…?”

He groans and pushes himself up on one elbow, frowning. He sees you standing beside the bed, frozen in place wearing just your jeans and bra. “Where are you going?” he asks, slipping your name on at the end. His voice is still a little rough from just waking up. “Are you grabbing breakfast?”

“I…um…” Your words catch in your throat, your heart sinking. If you tell him what your boss said, he won’t let you go. You know Wade and you know that he won’t let the threat of brutal murder stop him. As badly as you want to tell him, as much as you want a final goodbye, you know what you need to do. You can’t spend your life running and hiding, you can’t subject Wade to that kind of life.

“Wade.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, you wrap your arms around his neck. He leans into the hug, putting both of his arms around you and trying to drag you into his lap. You pull back, lowering your eyes and grabbing your shirt to finish getting dressed. “Ill be back, okay? I just need to do something.”

He’s not fully awake, still groggy and yawning. Running his fingers through his hair, he nods and watches you put on his hoodie. “You want me to go with you?”

“No…no, it’s okay.” You smile, but the edges of your vision start to blur. You can feel it again. That tightness in your throat, a slight burn in your sinuses as you fight back tears. Knowing that this is the last time you’ll get to see him…and you can’t even say goodbye. It’s for the best, you know that it is, but it feels like someone ripped open your chest and stabbed you in the heart.

“C’mere.” Wade pulls you close again and leans in, kissing along the side of your neck. He sighs and hugs you tighter for a second, threatening to drag you back into bed with him. When you put your hands on his shoulder, he reluctantly lets go of you and he rolls his eyes. “If you’re getting breakfast, can you get me something with bacon? I want black pepper maple bacon. Sweet and spicy…”

“Yeah. I’ll try to find some.” Watching him flop down onto the bed again, you feel that stirring in your chest. That fluttery sensation spreading through your abdomen. You see him bury his face in the pillow you’d been using.

As you approach the apartment door, you hear him call your name again. Looking over your shoulder, you can see him leaning up on his elbow. “Wade?”

“I love you, gloomy girl.” He smirks when he sees your eyes widen a little. “Come back soon, okay? We have to plan your first day as a freelancer.”

You want time to freeze. You want to go back to him, you want to just curl up in bed with his arms wrapped around you. When was the last time anyone said they loved you? After that incident in middle school, your own parents stopped saying it. Why did this have to happen? When you finally find someone that understands you, someone that isn’t afraid of you…someone that loves you…and you’re being forced to leave him.

“I love you.” There’s a strain to your voice, but he doesn’t catch it. Wade is already snuggling with your pillow again, dozing off.

Leaving the apartment, your legs feel like lead. You don’t want to keep moving. You don’t want to go. Once you’re back in your apartment, you’ll never get to see him again. More than likely, your bosses will keep you under even tighter security and they may even keep you locked in for a long time just to make sure you don’t try to run again.

It's early in the morning. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon and cast a pink glow to the edge of the sky, but the sky is still mostly a deep dark blue. The air is crisp and you zip up Wade’s hoodie, shivering in the Ghost t-shirt that he gave you yesterday. Your bag bounces quietly against your hip as you move down the sidewalk.

There aren’t many people out this early, but you’re still wary. Glancing over your shoulder often and being alert to the sounds around you. Early morning commuters and delivery trucks zoom past your left side, the occasional pedestrian walks past you without a second glance. You’re making progress, drawing closer to your building.

Are you doing the right thing? Abandoning Wade for his own safety, without even explaining why. Voluntarily stepping back into that prison. You don’t want to go back to your apartment, you don’t want to work for those people, but wouldn’t it be more selfish if you put his life at risk just so you can be free?

What would Wade say if you told him about the phone call? Freezing in your steps, you frown and wipe your eyes before your tears can spill down your cheeks. He would tell you that there’s no way in hell that he’d let you go back to them. Wade would come up with a plan to keep moving, to keep you both safe, while he found a way to take your bosses out. He wouldn’t give up on you…especially after what he said this morning.

The memory of the words “I love you, gloomy girl” is what makes you turn around. Adrenaline courses through your veins and you can feel a smile tugging at your lips as you hurry down the sidewalk. He loves you! Someone loves you! And what do they say in all of those romantic comedies that you’ve seen? You don’t give up on someone that you love!

As you break into a sprint, you’re thinking about how you’ll tell him what happened. You don’t want any trouble; you just want to be able to enjoy life. You just want to be with Wade. Maybe you can convince him not to go after them. If you both leave the country, maybe you can start a life together elsewhere.

Something bright pink zooms past you from behind, making you jolt to the side. Whatever it is, it strikes the sidewalk further down the street with a small explosion that cracks the pavement. Your eyes widen at the sight of the pulverized concrete and shreds of what looks like a playing card.

Looking over your shoulder, you don’t see anyone or anything. No other pedestrians in sight. No threatening presence peeking around the corner at the end of the block. With the blood rushing in your ears, your skin prickly with goosebumps, you slowly look up and spot a figure perched on a fire escape above and behind where you’re standing.

There’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and he jumps down from the skeletal metal stairs, landing gracefully on the sidewalk. As you turn to face him, the man shuffles a deck of cards between his hands. The wind catches his long brown duster, making it whip behind him almost like a cloak. He takes slow, deliberate steps towards you and looks you up and down.

“Been waitin’ a long time to get you alone, Eulogy.” His voice has an accent to it that you slowly recognize as Cajun, from some of the movies you’ve seen. He keeps moving towards you, even as you stumble back a few steps. “How ‘bout you make this easy and come along with Gambit? No reason you gotta make this harder than it has to be,” he says, lifting a card. A pink crackling energy seems to consume it like a flame.

Chapter Text

You need to run, need to get back to Wade. With your ability, fighting for yourself would be tricky. You might be able to raise some dead rats from the sewer and have them defend you, but after seeing the way Gambit’s card exploded against the pavement, you know it won’t be much help. At best, the rats could buy you some time to run, giving you a head start.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, Miss Eulogy?” The man’s tone has a honeyed quality to it, despite the taunting edge to his words. Between his fingers, Gambit flicks the glowing pink card and the glow is extinguished as it disappears back into the deck of cards. “Real shame to see such a sour look on such a pretty face.”

If you run now, it won’t take him long to catch you. He’s standing three feet away from you; just a few long strides and he’ll be on you. “Did you…call yourself Gambit?” There’s hesitation in your voice, but your eyes are locked on his. Keep him distracted, keep him talking while you try to come up with a plan.

“Gambit, Remy LeBeau, Le Diable Blanc.” The cards shuffle from one hand to the other as his eyes lower, skimming over your form. There’s a twitch at the corner of his lips, a slight lift, as if he was expecting you to look different. “For a necromancer, you sure don’t look very-”

“I know. I’m not…this…isn’t how I usually dress.” There’s blood rushing to your face as you glance down at your clothes. The Ghost t-shirt, the baggy hoodie and jeans. You’re not the picture of a mutant with the power to raise the dead, but he doesn’t seem to be looking down on you for it. If anything, Gambit looks amused.

The cards shuffle to his other hand as he takes a step toward you, watching and waiting to see if you’ll run. His lips settle into a smirk when you stay still. “Smart girl. You know Gambit ain’t goin’ back without you.”

“Who are you working for?” Your blood is pumping hot and fast as you watch the cards shuffle back to the other hand. Quick, effortless, shuffled by skilled hands. Letting your gaze rest on his hands, you can see his fingertips skimming across the edge of the deck.

Whoever he is, he’s a professional. You knew it the second you saw him. Gambit is exuding an effortless confidence, acting almost casual about this encounter. You’re not sure if he’s working for your ex-employers or if he’s from the X-Men. Either way, you know that going with him will mean that you won’t see Wade again.

“Gambit doesn’t work for anybody,” he protests, brow furrowing as he takes another step forward. “But if you’re askin’ how I found you, you’ve got the X-Men to thank. Been trackin’ you for a long time, Miss Eulogy.” Another step brings him less than a foot in front of you. Close enough that he could touch you if he reached out. “Gambit’s been watchin’ you himself for the past month, waitin’ for the chance to get you alone. Didn’t expect to find you shackin’ up with some mercenary-”

“I’m not…we’re not “shacking up”. Wade and I are…we’re partners. We’re doing freelance jobs now, so-”

“Nothin’ good gonna come from workin’ with a man like him.”

Now you begin taking steps back, keeping your eyes on Gambit. You lower yourself a little, reaching out a hand and pressing your fingertips against the wall to your right. Since it’s just animal bodies and you’re issuing one command, this shouldn’t take too much power.

You can already feel it humming through your body, spreading down your fingers and surging into the building. Your eyes stay on Gambit as you step backwards, your fingertips maintaining connection with the brick wall that’s now glowing purple. There have been a few hits already and you can feel creatures stirring back to life. Skeletons in the walls or beneath floorboards, taxidermy wrenching itself free from its mount.

Gambit knows what you’re doing. It’s clear from the smirk on his lips when he looks at the glowing wall. “Not gonna do much,” he warns you. “You really oughta make it easier on yourself and come without a fight. Wouldn’t wanna wear yourself out right away and miss the real fun.”

For the first time in a long while, you feel confident. Your voice is steady as you speak again, louder and clearer than before. At the same time, you can feel the surge of activity in the building beyond the wall. “I can’t go with you. I can’t go to prison, I can’t go with the X-Men. There’s someone I care about…someone that I…I think I love. And I’m not going to let anyone separate us!”

Something slams into the window behind you, hard, sending glass shards scattering over the sidewalk. Before you can look over your shoulder, you hear the frantic flap of wings and the scuffle of footsteps as creatures scamper through the open window and pour outside. You jolt as the taxidermy owl flies past you, a wingtip brushing your shoulder briefly. The owl leads the charge, a surge of smaller corpses following. Mice, rats, roaches, a few very unfortunate cats in different states of mummification.

You tense, watching them swarm Gambit, before you turn away and sprint as fast as you can. Behind you, you’re able to hear the fight taking place between the other mutant and your mini army of corpses. The scuttle of the rodents on the sidewalk, the tearing of flesh, the small explosions that you know are taking out your defenders. You know they’re at least slowing him down while you try to put some distance between you.

Get back to Wade. Avoid getting caught by anyone else, whether it’s another mutant or the police. Your shoes pound against the sidewalk, the cold morning air whipping at your face as you run. Not daring to look back over your shoulder.

Passing street corner after street corner, you don’t slow down until you’ve tucked yourself into an alley. You’re panting, your heart racing as you cover your mouth with a hand and try to stay in the dark. The sun is still slowly rising and you know that you won’t be able to hide for long. You just need to catch your breath and keep moving.

As you steady your breathing, you’re thinking about Wade. That cute, sleepy way he looked at you earlier, the roughness of his voice right after he woke up. Last night…was the best night of your life. You never had the luxury of romance before, never got to laugh so much or feel so…normal. Wade’s groggy “I love you, gloomy girl” replays in your head, stirring up butterflies in your stomach.

You need to get back to him at all costs. Even if you need to resurrect every rat and mouse in a five mile radius. You can’t let your old bosses, the X-Men, or the police separate you from the one person who treats you like an actual human being. The only person in the whole world that loves you.

“Gambit doesn’t wanna hurt you.” The voice echoes from down the street and you can hear slow, steady footsteps moving towards the mouth of the alley. “Coulda just come along without causin’ all this mess. If you think a few zombies are gonna slow me down, you’ve gotta rethink your strategy, Miss Eulogy. Nothin’ is gonna make me go back empty-handed.”

Your hand presses tighter over your mouth as you listen to his footsteps. He’s getting closer and closer. If you make a dash for the next corner now, you might be able to make it, but you can’t be sure that he’s alone out there. What if he has backup and they’re at the other end of the street, waiting to grab you?

Slowly, carefully, you begin to slide down the wall to tuck yourself further into the cover of the shadows. If you can get a hand to the ground, you can send a pulse into the sewers below and resurrect whatever bodies might be in there. Rats, snakes, gators, whatever there might be.

Before you can fully crouch, a hand is grabbing you by the front of your hoodie and your back is pinned tight against the wall behind you. Gambit narrows his eyes, his grip tightening, as he leans in close. “Makin’ it real hard for Gambit to bring you in quick and easy,” he warns, eyes fixing on yours. “I’m gonna give you one more chance to do the right thing before Gambit really-”

“No!” Both hands slam against his chest and there’s a burst of bright purple light at the contact. Immediately, he releases you and stumbles back against the opposite wall with wide eyes. His hand goes to his chest before he sinks down, sitting hard on the ground. Regret instantly floods your thoughts and you move toward him. “No…no, no, no! Don’t…! I didn’t mean it!”

Falling to your knees in front of him, you reach out and see your fingertips glowing purple. Your skin is vibrating and panic begins to rise in you. You’ve never touched a living person when you were using your ability before and now Gambit is convulsing. Forcing your ability back down, you reach out and gently take his face in your hands, but it’s too late.

The second you make contact, his eyes meet yours and his convulsions cease. His body goes limp against the wall behind him, the life leaving his eyes. Even though he continues to stare at you, it’s with a vacancy you’ve only seen in corpses. “I didn’t mean it…I didn’t mean to! I just…I just wanted to get back to Wade! Please come back! Please!”

You shuffle closer on your knees, still holding his face in your hands. This has never happened before and you’re frantically trying to think of why it happened today. Was it your fear of losing Wade? Was it just the shock of being found? Was it panic that activated your ability and made you…?

That can’t be it, though, can it? You’re able to resurrect people, but you’ve never killed anyone! At least, not directly. You don’t want a killing touch! Look at what you’ve done, look at Gambit’s body as he stares back at you in the dim alley. He was chasing you, trying to bring you back to the X-Men, but he really hadn’t done anything to hurt you. He said it himself that he wanted to bring you back without a fight.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do it!” You know what you have to do and your chest tightens at the thought of what will happen. Closing your eyes, you rest your forehead against his and summon your power to your fingertips again. Warm, humming on the surface of your skin as you replay Wade’s words in your head.

You can hear him breathing again and you know it won’t be long. Already, your thoughts are starting to become fuzzy. Consciousness is beginning to slip through your fingers as you fully resurrect Gambit. Once you pass out, you know you’ll be vulnerable. Wade doesn’t know where you are and by the time he starts searching, you know he won’t be able to find you.

“I love you, too.” The words are whispered as hot tears spill down your cheeks, your fingertips beginning to slip from Gambit’s face. “I love you, Wade. I…love you and I never…told you how much you really meant to me…you were my everything…” You slump forward against Gambit, but he doesn’t move.

While you’re fighting to keep your grip on consciousness, you don’t realize that he’s passed out. The shock of such a rapid succession of death and revival were too much for him to handle at once. What you do notice is the sound of voices, speaking from the opening of the alley and getting closer.

Fading in and out of sleep, you find yourself being hauled off of Gambit’s unconscious form. You make out a few things being said between the two newcomers. You don’t have the strength to fight, don’t have the strength to even open your eyes.

“Shouldn’t have happened. Never had this problem with a Eulogy before. They’re usually pretty good about keeping their hands to themselves or isolating.”

“Yeah, well. Every branch has its weird ones, right? One of them was bound to screw up. What should we do about him?” This is coming from the person carrying you. “Think we should move him closer to the street?”

“Him? We’re just supposed to focus on the Eulogy. This Gambit is probably gonna have some psych damage from that death pulse. Too bad we couldn’t-”

“Don’t say it. Look, we need to get this,” the person said, lifting you higher. “Processed. You have that shot ready? Now that this Eulogy has her death pulse, we can’t take any chances.”

“Got it right here.” The words are followed by a sharp pain in your arm and then your concentration begins to slip. The last thing you hear before you fully fall into that deep, dreamless sleep is, “Any idea where they’re going to drop her?”

Chapter Text

“Where are you, gloomy girl?” Wade checks the time and sighs, flopping onto his back on the bed. You’ve been gone for an hour. No calls, no texts. He knows that the lines can get pretty crazy at some of the restaurants in his neighborhood, but he’s starting to get worried.

He didn’t want you to go. He did try to drag you back into bed, but it didn’t work. Wade tries to call you again, but there’s still no answer. He finally pushes himself to get dressed, knowing what he has to do now.

If he can’t find you outside or he doesn’t see you in one of the places down the street, he’s going back to your old apartment. If you’re not there, his next step is going to be hunting down your old employers. Wade isn’t going to let you just disappear. You’re his gloomy girl! Your life together just started and he won’t let those assholes cut it short!

Stepping outside, he runs a hand over his hair and releases a sigh. It’s still early, but there are enough people moving along the sidewalk that he knows the search is going to suck. All he can do is try to spot you in the crowd. You left wearing one of his hoodies and a Ghost t-shirt, so he’s just scanning for those.

As he’s nudging past people, his eyes darting to the windows at the front of every restaurant or convenience store, Wade is planning. He has a contact number for your bosses. If they snatched you up when you went outside, he’ll need to find a way to track them down. Of course, they’re not going to answer him if he calls. Why would they talk to him if they have you?

He'll have to ask around at the bar, try to find someone else that they might’ve contracted for a job. You had another bodyguard before him, so maybe he can track that guy down and ask him about your bosses. If they don’t have you, then Wade will have to target the X-Men next. He knows that one of your employers’ biggest worries was that the X-Men would try to snatch you up.

This was supposed to be the start of your new life. Ever since he spent all of that time alone with you, when you were locked in your apartment together, Wade has been thinking about it. Moving in together, you doing freelance revivals with him protecting you, getting a dog together! Wade Wilson and his gloomy girl.

Hours after Wade begins his search for you, you’re slowly regaining consciousness. Opening your eyes to find a misty, gray sky above you with the cold, hard ground against your back. There’s a slight stinging in sensation in your arm as you push yourself up on your elbows. All around you, all you can see is a thick mist with no discernable shapes.

You’re a little shaky when you stand up, which usually means that you did a resurrection recently, but you can’t remember. Turning around, you try to find something recognizable in the mist, but there’s nothing. You can’t hear any animals or any sort of movement, no voices. It feels so still, so eerily quiet, that it raises goosebumps on your skin.

Where are you? This isn’t a morgue, it isn’t someone’s hideout, it isn’t the basement of a shady bar or the hospital suite of a politician. Did you really revive someone recently? Where’s the body? Where’s the client? Where’s Wade?

Wade…that’s right. Shouldn’t he be here? He’s always close by, in case you faint. Maybe he just moved your body after you passed out and he’s finishing up with the client. If that’s the case, shouldn’t you just wait for him?

That can’t be right, though. No, it’s not dark enough. You only work at night and you have that curfew. You’re supposed to be back in your apartment by sunrise and judging by the light filtering through the mist, the sun is already up. If you don’t get back soon, they’re going to be upset and they might blame Wade for you being late.

The thought of them firing him makes your chest tighten. Your stomach twists into knots, a tightness coiling around your heart. The thought of being assigned a new bodyguard, never getting to work with Wade again…it’s such a lonely, painful feeling.

You don’t have anyone else. No family, no friends. After the incident in middle school, after your first revival, no one wanted to get close to you. Your own parents looked at you like you were a monster. Everyone that you’ve worked with since you left home, every bodyguard you’ve had assigned to you, has kept you at arm’s length. Wade is the only person in the world that treats you like a real human being, the only person who isn’t afraid of you.

“Wade?” Calling his name quietly, hesitantly, you begin walking. There’s no response and your heart sinks, but you know that you can’t give up. If something went wrong during a revival, you’ll have to resurrect him. Even if it’s not in the contract, you know that you can’t let something happen to him.

There’s muffled movement somewhere in the mist. Looking ahead of you, you’re still unable to see anything. A glance over your shoulder shows nothing but the thick mist. You can’t hear anything now and it makes your pulse sound so much louder in your ears.

Should you call out for him again? You don’t know what that muffled sound was. You can’t be sure of who, or what, is lurking in the mist. If you call his name again, you’ll risk attracting someone or something dangerous, but the longer you’re alone, the more you begin to panic.

Late for your curfew. Waking up in a strange place with this lingering heaviness in your limbs when you try to move. That stinging pain in your arm. It’s too much for you to handle all at once. You just want to close your eyes and reappear in your apartment.

At the very least, you didn’t see anything behind you when you glanced over your shoulder. Knowing that the path is safe, you begin to take slow steps backwards. Your fingers grip the strap of your bag tightly and you tug the neck of your hoodie up. Hoodie? Lowering your eyes, you realize that you’re not wearing the outfit that your employers insist on you wearing to jobs.

This isn’t the dark, professional outfit you’re used to. As you study your clothes, you can recognize a scent on the hoodie, too. It smells like Wade. What exactly happened? Why are you wearing Wade’s hoodie? And these jeans…this t-shirt…you don’t recognize them.

“Careful.” The voice comes from behind you as a hand settles on your shoulder. “You seem lost,” they continue, the voice sounding male.

You’re frozen in place, staring straight ahead of you. The rapid thumping of your heart is almost deafening as you feel your throat tighten, feel a rush of cold adrenaline through your veins. You could’ve sworn that you didn’t see anyone behind you in the mist.

Fingertips trail across your upper back as the stranger takes quiet steps around you, finally settling on your opposite shoulder and gripping firmly. The man in front you is tall, lean, and he’s studying you with clear mirth in his blue eyes. A hint of recognition, a hint of longing, take the place of that mirth as he takes in your features.

“You look like mine,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. The mist is clinging to his long black hair and his coat, giving them a wet sheen. It makes the gold accents shine bright, the green appearing almost aged in contrast. Droplets of condensation are dotting the curling golden horns of his helmet. “You look so much like her…”

“I…I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” Trying to take a step back is futile. His grip tightens on your shoulder, his brow furrowing with a sort of desperation. You quickly realize that speaking may have been a mistake.

His free hand cups your cheek and he pulls you a step closer to him. “That voice…you even sound like her. My Eulogy…”

“Your Eulogy?” Your grip on your bag is painfully tight, your knuckles aching. It was unsettling to wake up in a strange place, in strange clothes, but now you’re face to face with a man that you’ve never seen before. A man that’s claiming you look like someone he knows. His hand feels so warm against your cheek, so gentle, and you can feel blood rushing to your face. When was the last time someone touched you like this?

“You’ve just arrived, haven’t you? I can tell by the look in your eyes.” He’s still holding your cheek in his hand, those blue eyes carefully taking in each and every detail of your face. “Did they tell you where they were sending you?” Seeing the confusion in your eyes, he asks, “What is the last thing you remember before you appeared here?”

“The last thing…?” As you try to remember, a frown tugs at your lips. What is the last thing you can remember? Closing your eyes, you try to dredge up your last memory from the murky depths of the grogginess lingering in your brain.

“A revival,” you quietly respond. “It was a revival in an apartment building. I remember being there with my bodyguard. We were doing a job. I was reviving a little girl and…I fainted.”

“You weren’t even given an explanation, were you? If your abilities are anywhere near as powerful as my Eulogy’s, then they couldn’t take any chances. You were likely sedated and simply dropped here. Perhaps they even altered your memory, if they had reason to. Of course, that would depend on what truly happened before they took you.”

“You keep talking about your Eulogy. What do you mean by that? Are there other people like me? Not just mutants, but necro-”

“My Eulogy, from my universe. A beautiful Asgardian woman with the ability to raise the dead as she pleases and fell an army with one touch. You look exactly like her, you even sound like her. Of course…” His eyes lower to your hoodie and jeans, his mouth contorting with something like disgust. “She wore a dark velvet gown and cloak, she exuded elegance.”

The stranger turns his head as there’s movement somewhere within the mist. Taking your hand in his, he maintains a tight grip. “You claim to have relied on a guard in the past. I can only assume that you have yet to unlock the death pulse that my Eulogy is capable of. Until you’ve managed to unlock that power, I will protect you. Now, we need to keep moving. Staying in one place for long is dangerous in the Void.”

You want to ask him about the Void. You want to know exactly how much he knows about this place and what happened to you, but you can hear more and more movement in the mist. There’s a creeping, itchy feeling at the back of your neck as you let him guide you away from the spot where you woke up.

The mention of a death pulse has you on edge, but you’re not sure why. It’s like there’s something tickling at the back of your mind, some reason for your unease, but it’s just beyond your grasp. A death pulse. Can his Eulogy really do something like that? Is it as horrific as it sounds?

“There are two rules that I’ve lived by to keep myself alive in the Void,” he quietly murmurs, leading you into the mist. Through the gray haze, tree trunks are barely visible and it lets you know that you’ve entered a forest. “Don’t remain in one place for longer than necessary and avoid contact with others. Of course, I’m making an exception for you.”

Keep moving and avoid contact. You nod, making a mental note of his rules. They’re not as strict as the rules set by your bosses and they make sense.

As he leads you deeper into the forest, you look back over your shoulder. You can’t help but wonder if Wade is in here, too. He didn’t respond when you were calling his name and you don’t want to leave him behind, but this stranger is quickening his pace. The man is pulling you with more urgency, his grip on your hand still tight as his thumb rubs circles over your knuckle.

“Unless your guard is as powerful as you are, you were likely separated and he was left in your universe. You shouldn’t concern yourself with him now. We need to keep moving and find shelter.” He continues onward, his coat billowing behind him as he leads you past the trees and into the tall grass.

“Every day that I’ve spent here, I’ve thought of my Eulogy. I mourned the loss of her, I dreamed of her. Now, I have a Eulogy variant by my side and I don’t intend to lose you. This feels right. A Loki and a Eulogy.”