I'm the bad guy who makes fun of people who die

Gwen wasn’t a huge alcohol girl. She actually kind of hated it, if she was being honest. Even rubbing alcohol kind of made her stomach revolt, but that brought back ugly memories for her regardless. 

She felt bad for drunk people though. Even when they spilled their shit on her shirt. “Okay, hold on now,” the blonde said gently, grabbing their arm. This man was clearly over the legal achohol limit. 

Wade yanked his arm back, eyeing her cafrefully. It wasn’t always that a pretty girl made Wade angry, but when they did, it was always the blondes. Maybe it was a genetic code. maybe he resented his mother Maybe it was just a personal dislike. The point was, he was furious now.

> Wade: Why the hell would you attack Jean

> Wade: Dumbass. You’re human now? You can die?

> Wade: Don’t throw yourself out of any windows until you get your powers back

[Text-Midnight Summers Dream]: Shield offered me a check with atleast 6 dollar signs

[Text-Midnight Summers Dream]: Yep! Pure human. 0% tumor.

She fisted her hand at her side. Better that than swing at him. It was a tough call. perhaps then he’d get her name right.

“Emma” She hissed, “My name is Emma, you sad pathetic drunken twit.” She eyed him up and down and shook her head. “Your pores are seeping with fermented everything. Pretty as that face is, I’m sure even you don’t want to risk damage.” 

Her gaze is hard as he takes the bottle. Disgust rolls off of her in wave and she’s tempted to push his chair over from under the table with her foot. It’s a rash decision and she dismissed it quickly. Taking the bottle she slides the water toward him. “Drink it. All.” It’s not a request it’s demand. “We’ll play a game alright, darling after that’s gone.” She’d humor him for now. And only for now.

“Sad? I’m not sad! A pathetic twit, maybe, but definitely not sad.” He huffed at her. “Aww, you called me pretty. Even the wicked witch of the west has a heart.”

Wade eyes the bottle. It looks as if the bartender had taken a piss in the cup and had washed it out with the water currently residing in it. And as cute as he was-or thought he was, at the very least, his mind wasn’t good right now- Wade wasn’t one to enjoy water works. “I’m only gonna do this cause you scare me.” He grabs the bottle, placing it tentatively to his lips. 

·         She’s staring at him for a moment, listening. “Oh fucking hell.” Jessica’s forcing herself not to gag – or punch him. “How much is it gonna take for you to fuck off and never come back?” She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the watering. “I mean shit – you can’t smell that?”

“How much is it gonna take?” He feigns ignorance. “Well, I dunno ma’am. I’m not allowed to sell these, or Father Gabriel will beat me again. See, I’m a Jehovah Witness. Can I have an hour of your time?” He nearly bursts out laughing at his own stupidities. “Smell? I’m sorry miss, I lost my sense of smell in the war.”

“Sure it’s not,” Grant snorted as he put the gun down. “Marvelous?”

“A real beauty. Most agents here, they’re dumb. They don’t take good care of their weapons. Yours, on the other hand, is pristine”.

Steve had been enjoying his routinely midnight walk with Tank. The night air cooled him like no other, and it was a peaceful, long walk — one that was without the usual squabble and chaoticness of a typical day at SHIELD Uni. The courtyard was empty, as was everything else.  Only one or two people were out at this time of night, including Steve himself. So, for the most part, things were relatively calm.

That is, until the one and only Wade Wilson came barrelling into him, spilling all of the contents of his drink on Steve’s white shirt.

The blond took a moment to consider the situation (and the liquid currently staining the front of his shirt). Wade looked… drunk. Really, really drunk. The two of them were friends, of it not that, close acquittances. At least, Steve considered the other man to be a friend, despite their limited interactions and conversations. Now, however, seemed like a better time than any to bridge that gap.

“If you hadn’t been walkin’ ‘round with that bottle of vodka, I wouldn’t have gotten it on my shirt.” A sigh was expelled as he looked down at his shirt again, soon followed by a gruff, “I’m sorry. You alright?”

Wade stared up at the large man in front of him. The bulkiness size of him, along with the equally big dog to his side indicated that he would’ve gotten his ass kicked, had it not been Steve’s dopey face staring down at him.

“Oh thank god” He let out a shaky laugh. “I thought you were some meathead. Thank god. I was worried I was gonna get beat, and not in the good way.” He eyed the man with a suspicious look, not buying his whole story. “Mmhmm, sure. It’s my fault for walking. Sure.You were probably following me around, planning out how to discreetly steal my vodka! You’re probably gonna go and share your shirt vodka with Bucky under the covers, aren’t ya! People like you are gonna run this school to the ground, forcing me to buy whole new bottles until I can properly enjoy an entire one.” Wade rambled on, slightly forgetting where he was going with the ‘conversation’.

The force of her eye roll was strong enough to give her a head. She could have  just left it at that. She blamed Logan. She wasn’t even supposed to be here. She watched them a moment longer. 

She stood before him, hand on a hip. Unamused expression clearly on her face.

The call of that name had a short breath leaving her.  Hand fistingHe hugged her and Emma winced in disgust, body tensioning, “Why I can’t disagree with that statement. I’m Emma. and you’ve had enough to drink. I, on the other hand, have not.” She needed. She turned to move to the bar getting him water and herself a shot. Before even returning to him. consquences be damned she took the shot and moved to sit before him, a  bottle and shot glass sitting before her. She was going to need it.

“Drink up, buttercup.”

Wade aimlessly followed after Emma. Jean? Jemma. 

“But Jemma!” He drawled out the horrible amalgamation of a name, clinging to her like an octopus at a petting zoo. “I don’t need water.” He falsely claimed, sitting down at a shitty table the size two Bobby’s.

·         Jessica opened her door and quirked a brow at the man, frown etched onto her face as she looked over the man in front of her. “Is there –,” Her throat constricted, and she gagged at the smell that seemed to come from him. “What the ever-loving shit is the fucking bag?”

Wade suppressed an insane amount of giggles, face contorted into something in between a grin and the face an ox would make if it was constipated. “Well ma’am, that’s a homemade concoction I like to call ‘Jesus Bread’.  It’s called that because it’s been moldy for three days, but I picked the pieces of rot off!” He explained excitedly.

Some reason she had known going out was a bad idea. She should have just stayed in her room, curled up watching Netflix of something with Ty or just Mal or that matter. But no. She was here.  Next time she asked Logan for a suggestion she was ignoring it.

At least the drunkards were mildly entertaining–but then again she’d made sure they didn’t touch or talk to her

Her attention moved to the familiar voice. She hated the saying “small world” but in this case, it fit. She fought the groan. Maybe she could ignore it, pretend she wasn’t there and he wasn’t there. But something told Emma that wasn’t the case. Rising from her chair she put a hand on the man’s shoulder who’s shirt was soaked. “Don’t mind him. You realize you spilled your drink down your shirt earlier and have no reason to start a fight” She spoke to him, hypnotic tone to her voice. Easy enough.

“Clearly you’ve had too many drinks and somehow the universe is punishing me. Sit down I’ll get you some water.”

Wade came close to bitch slapping the man who had so rudely stolen his Vodka. He couldn’t be fooled with the ol ‘I’m so pissed off why’d you do this.” trick. He knew the mans tricks. He’d go to the bathroom to ‘Clean up’, just to go and suckle on the wet spots of his shirt like a free loader.

The only reason Wade hadn’t beaned him with his now soul crushingly empty vodka bottle was the increasingly pretty blonde in front of him.

She looked familiar. Maybe it was the hair. Or the eyes. Maybe, just maybe, the ass. The actual answer soon came to him as he saw her mess with the vagabonds mind. “Oh my god.” He laughed, not believing his luck.

> Wade: The stick’s fine

> Wade: Seriously what happened?

[Text-Midnight Summers Dream]: Right so ya know that girl who turns into phoenix?

[Text-Midnight Summers Dream]: I miiiiiiight’ve fought her

[Text-Midnight Summers Dream]: ANd she miiiiiiiightve kicked my ass and took my powers.

“No. No, I don’t think– That is a horrible analogy and I’m wondering how narcissistic you really are.”

“Hey hey, not narcissistic, bucko. Maybe a bit of Schizophrenia here and there, but definitely no narcissism “

A.) He could drink alcohol again and

B.) All the resistance he had built up to the wonderful fluid was gone, meaning that

C.) Wade was drunk, drunk as fuck.

So drunk, in fact, that the bottle of vodka was nearly empty in his hands. He was gonna need a new liver.

Or two.

It didn’t matter to Wade, what did matter, however, was the fact that he spilled the rest of it on some rando’s shirt.