Holding Back - 23. Chapter 23

There is no answer to his texts, and Peter’s calls go straight to voicemail. Feeling better than yesterday, he puts on his clothes and heads up to the Bronx to Wade’s apartment, but it is empty and dark with no sign that anyone has been there since yesterday morning, and Peter returns home with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Where could Wade have gone? Did something happen?

By mid afternoon, Peter’s worries have turned to full scale fretting, and he’s pacing his living room, running through his options in his head. He could put on his Spider-Man suit and go look for Wade himself, but even though he feels fine he knows his body is still healing. If he does find Wade and he’s in serious trouble, Peter might not be strong enough to save him. He could contact The Avengers or The Fantastic Four, request their aid in tracking down Wade. But how does he explain to New York City’s greatest heroes that they need to help him save Deadpool? Who else could he try to contact? Daredevil? The X-Men, maybe?

There’s a knock on Peter’s door, and he wants it to be Wade, needs it to be him so badly that he doesn’t even stop to consider who else it might be. Rushing to the door he pulls it open, Wade’s name on his lips, ready to kiss him in relief, punch him for leaving without saying anything—

‘So this is what ya actually look like.’

Peter blinks, staring wide-eyed at the man before him. He’s seen him out of costume before, but he never expected to find him on his doorstep. ‘Logan?’

Wolverine’s hands are in the pockets of his jeans, and he’s dressed in a grey wife beater and checkered flannel shirt. He gives Peter what might constitute a smile on someone else, but on Logan’s gruff face it looks like a grimace. Wordlessly, Peter steps aside, and Logan walks his broad frame into the tiny apartment.

‘Sorry for showin’ up at yer door like this,’ he says, once Peter’s closed the door and is facing him. ‘I know you value yer privacy and guard yer identity like a hawk, but . . . I didn’t really have many options, so I followed my nose.’

Peter crosses his arms across his chest. ‘So . . . What do you want?’

Logan scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. ‘Don’t really know how to say this . . . Wade’s been captured.’

‘Wait, what? By who?’

‘The Anti-Mutant Defence League. You know ‘em?’

Peter nods, looking away. He slowly walks over to the couch and drops down in a seat. It’s as if all his worries have come to life. Wade’s been captured. They can’t kill him, but . . . Who knows what they’re doing to him by now?

‘What . . . What happened?’ he asks after a few moments’ silence.

Logan leans against the kitchen counter island. ‘After you were shot . . . Wade gave me some intel and asked me to call him if I dug anything up on the bastards that did it.’

‘The bastards that did it are dead,’ Peter points out. He is unable to keep the edge of bitterness out of his voice; he’s forgiven Wade, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

‘Yeah, but their bosses ain’t. Anyway, we tracked down a group of ‘em, so I called Wade like I promised, and he came to help us out. But these weren’t like the thugs the two of ya fought the other night. These were professionals. They had skills and know-how. They knew to aim for Wade’s head. He went down like a sack of bricks. Nightcrawler tried to Bamf over and get him out of there, but . . . He got hurt bad. It was all we could do to get him outta there, and in all the confusion Wade got snatched.’

Peter nods slowly. ‘So, how do we find him?’

Logan shrugs. ‘That part’s already done. Wade’s got kind of a . . . particular scent. I’ve already tracked him, I know where he’s being held. But it’s heavily fortified. Armed guards, all exits covered, alarms . . . We gotta be smart about this, disable the systems, sneak inside, if we wanna get him out. Now, I know you got hurt, but—’

Peter stands up at once. ‘Let me go get changed.’

‘Wade’s gonna try and kill me for gettin’ you involved,’ says Logan, and there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

‘Yeah, well, Wade can kiss my ass,’ Peter says, heading towards his bedroom.

‘I was under the impression he already had, and then some.’

Peter turns around, and finds Logan actually smiling now. He returns the smile, in spite of himself. ‘Wouldn’t shut up about me, huh?’

‘Wade talks about whatever’s on his mind, most of the time. At the moment, that mostly seems to be you.’ Logan pauses, studying Peter’s face. ‘Gotta admit, I worried that it was all in his head or you were jerkin’ him around somehow . . . But this is as real for you as it is for him, ain’t it?’

Without hesitation, Peter says, ‘Yes.’

Logan nods. ‘Yeah. All right, come up to the roof when you’re done. Pick-up in five.’

* * *

Wade doesn’t know how long he’s been chained up like this. He’s in some kind of warehouse or bunker, and he’s been hanging by his wrists from the ceiling since he woke up. It’s getting to be a little uncomfortable, especially since he’s starting to get kind of desperate for a piss, but for the most part he’s just bored out of his skull. He’s been under guard the whole time, and he’s tried talking to his captors, but he gets no response from them.

They’re probably under orders not to talk to us . . .

‘Are you under orders not to talk to me?’ Wade asks out loud. There is no response, and he wriggles a bit, legs swinging a few inches above the concrete floor. ‘Seriously, can I at least go to the bathroom?’

His guard turns away from him and walks over to the room’s only door. He lifts two fingers to his ear, says something in a hushed voice, opens the door and then leaves. Wade wriggles again. He kicks his legs, as if that’s gonna make them longer and let them reach the floor. He could try chewing off his own shoulders, but fighting his way out without arms will be tricky.

He doesn’t look up when the door opens again, still kicking his legs in futility.

‘That won’t do any good, you know.’ It’s a familiar voice, with an unplaceable accent, and Wade looks up in surprise.

‘Really? No! What?’ He squints. ‘Why?’

‘Why not?’ says Daken with a shrug. He stands leaning against the door, his arms crossed casually over his chest. He’s wearing black jeans, a black tank top and combat boots.

Well, that’s one hell of a plot twist . . . Not! Evil baby Wolverine sides with the bad guys!

It’s almost like Daniel Way wrote it. Except then it would be good.

‘I’m guessing,’ Wade kicks his legs again, ‘that you’re not here to rescue me.’

‘You’re guessing right.’

‘I’m guessing also,’ Wade wriggles some more—he really has to piss now, ‘that these guys don’t know that you’re a mutant.’

‘Right again,’ says Daken with a smirk. ‘Aren’t you the clever one, Wade Wilson?’

‘What if I were to tell them?’ Wade challenges.

‘Like they’d believe you over me!’ Daken scoffs. He stands up straight and prowls closer, the tattoo on his arm seeming to swirl with the motion of his muscles as he clenches and unclenches his fist. His black mohawk falls attractively in front of his pale grey eyes. ‘But why would you want to tell them?’ he continues silkily. ‘We don’t have to be enemies, Wade. We could be . . . friends.’

Man, Daken is really hot!

I’m inclined to agree. Bet he makes a spectacular power bottom!

Wade shakes his head. ‘Nuh-uh, baby Wolverine! I’m immune to mind mojo. You can’t sway me!’

Daken smiles, baring his teeth. ‘It’s not mind-mojo, my dear. It’s pure pheromones. Not that I need them. You already want me. Why wouldn’t you?’ He stops in front of Wade, reaches out and cups him through his suit. ‘There are many, many potential benefits to being on my side.’

It’s sort of an impulse. It just seems like the thing to do, really, and his bladder is so full anyway, so with Daken’s hand on him, Wade just lets go.

Daken clearly smells it before he feels it, his nose wrinkling and his brow furrowing, and a second later, as the first drops break through the fabric of the suit, Daken pulls his hand back as if burned.

Wade gives a satisfied sigh as he fills his suit up with urine. ‘Oh man,’ he sighs. ‘I’ve been holding that since last night, however long that’s been . . . Like, would it kill you people to have some windows up in here so I could get an idea of the time?’

‘You are disgusting!’ Daken sneers.

Wade shrugs as well as he can, hanging by his wrists. ‘I told your boys I had to go. They didn’t listen.’

‘And stupid. My side is the winning side.’

‘Chaotic neutral, motherfucker!’ Wade smirks. His piss drips into a puddle on the floor. ‘I’m on my own fucking side.’

Daken turns away with a disgusted look on his face.

‘Hey, prodigal son,’ says Wade. ‘Answer me straight. Why are you siding with the folks who wanna kill folks like you?’

Daken sticks his hands into his pockets and looks back at Wade for a second. ‘Maybe I just want to watch the world burn.’

Wade shakes his head. ‘Nah, man. That’s not it. You wanted to watch the world burn, there’d be plenty more efficient ways of doing it. You’ve got one reason, and one reason only to team up with these shitsticks. You just wanna piss off your dad. Only reason to be this much of a douchenozzle. You two seriously need to hug it out, man.’

Daken rolls his eyes. ‘You fucking hero-types . . . Always trying to fix things.’

‘Hero-type? Moi? I’m flattered, Loganette! But I ain’t a hero. I’m just sick of your daddy issues fucking shit up all the time. When normal people are fighting with their parents they slam doors, maybe knock over a vase. When you fight with your dad, you level whole city blocks. And it’s sooooo fucking passé, dude!’

The punch to his gut comes out of nowhere, and knocks the air out of him, though it’s hardly a surprise. As soon as he’s managed to suck in a breath, Wade laughs.

‘Struck a nerve, didn’t I?’ he wheezes. ‘Oh, my baby Wolverine . . . Get the fuck over yourself. You may be stronger than I am, but I heal better. I’ll outlive you.’

‘True,’ says Daken, flexing his fist with a look of unconcern on his face, ‘but your precious Spider-Man won’t.’

Did he threaten our Peter?

He did. We have to kill him. Like, now.

Wade takes a deep breath and tries not to let any emotion through in his voice. ‘What the shit are you talking about?’

‘Oh, please!’ Daken smirks at him. ‘Even if I hadn’t had the reports of you killing a whole squad of my men to save his life, I can smell him and his cum all over you. Well.’ He wrinkles his nose again. ‘Maybe not anymore. The stench of your urine is fairly overpowering.’

‘Yeah, my piss is pretty potent,’ Wade agrees. ‘Probably strong enough to cover up your pheromones. As for Spidey, you wanna kill him you gotta go through me first!’

Daken laughs a soft, cruel laugh. ‘Oh, Wade . . . But I already have. I’ve got you right here, and you’re not getting out. There is nothing you can do to protect your precious Spider-Man.’

He ain’t wrong. We’re kind of stuck here, and if he could smell Peter on us, he can track him to his home.

We gotta get free! Gotta save Peter!

‘Oh, he better not be even thinking that,’ Wade mutters darkly. ‘Motherfucker better leave my Spidey outta this.’

Daken laughs. ‘Gladly. He’s not who I want. You’re not who I want, either.’

‘No,’ Wade says. ‘You want daddy dearest. So what am I? Bait?’

‘You’re a lucky coincidence, Wilson.’ Daken saunters back towards the door, and Wade can’t help but watch the sway of his hips. ‘You were never part of my plan, but you fit into it nicely. Logan fancies himself a hero.’ He opens the door. ‘Let him be one.’

The door shuts on Daken’s perfectly sculpted ass, and Wade heaves a sigh. His wet suit is rapidly cooling, adding to his discomfort.

It was worth it, though.

He nods at nothing. ‘Fuck yeah.’