Who: Ella kindwithcourage & Wade Wilson wade What: Ella trades a warm meal for some company When: March 31, later afternoon Where: Ella’s Room - 103A Rating: General Audiences. Warnings: Wade. Foul language. Bad thinking from a bad man. Status: Closed/Completed GDoc
~*~
Ella didn’t understand the strange place she’d found herself in the morning after the ball, but she knew she would make the best of it. Have courage, her mother had told her, and after so many years, Ella knew she would always embrace the teachings of her parents. Every day, she strove to be the daughter that would make them proud, tending to the family home - and her happy memories - as she waited on Lady Tremaine and her stepsisters. Suddenly being alone was somewhat frightening, particularly since it meant her animal friends weren’t with her as well. There were so few things familiar about this place - Hope Springs Apartments - but she sort of liked the name and her apartment was more than enough room for herself. It also had a good amount of food, enough for at least a week or more.
The devices she’d been given, one handheld and the other some sort of box, were foreign to her, but she’d managed to figure out the handheld one well enough. Perhaps Mr Wilson would explain to her some of the other odd things in her apartment, such as the black square on the wall in the living room. She’d managed to figure out that the faucets controlled the water and that was a very cool invention. Ella was pleased with her personal place, but she was never one to turn down someone who was hungry. Mr Wilson seemed kind, if a little exuberant, but it was the kind thing to do. Her parents would be proud and, in truth, she wanted to meet more people and have a life away from Lady Tremaine. The ball had been a grand time, and Kit utterly breathtaking, but he was a Prince and she nothing more than a maid. They were hardly a good fit for each other, no matter her dreams. The memory of it would keep her heart warm, and that was all Ella ever thought she had the right to.
After opening the various drawers and cabinets, Ella was able to get a hearty stew going and fresh bread baking in the oven. It hadn’t had nearly enough time to rise as she would have liked, but fresh bread was best and she did know a good recipe for quick bread. Her mother had not left her bereft when it came to cooking, and the other kitchen staff had always been pleased to have her learning and working alongside them. The stew was a favored recipe of her mother’s, with carrots, onions, potatoes, and celery. She sung to herself as she worked, seasoning as she was taught and let that work while she seasoned and browned the strips of steak she’d found packaged in the cold cabinet. It was an efficient contraption, but it wasn’t something she was familiar with. Once the meat was sufficiently cooked, she added that to the pot and topped it off with a container of beef stock - which she marveled at the convenience of - and a healthy bit of red wine. That would need to sit for at least twenty minutes before it was ready to eat, which would give her just enough time to set the table and organize a bit before Mr Wilson appeared. Just as she turned to leave the kitchen, Ella saw a rather tall man leaning against the doorway. He surprised her enough to make her jump slightly, but she didn’t make much noise.
“Mr Wilson?”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Noise was the kind of thing which got a guy killed when he was an assassin. Well. A normal guy which Wade Wilson definitely was not since he was pretty sure he couldn't die. He was sure if someone could detach a guy's head only to have him reattach it later? They were as close to immortal as someone was going to get.
He kept quiet out of habit more than necessity as it stood.
Wade was nearly silent as he made his way to the apartment designated to Ella. She was more than easy to find. Her singing could be heard down the whole hall of the place. There was nothing hesitant in her voice. Free. She sang as if she were a free woman singing the song of freedom.
Joy.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard pure joy in someone's voice. Wade had sang plenty. Music was a friend of his. There was nothing about joy in his voice when he sang. Amusement. Sure. Insanity? Yeah. That was a thing he had some issues with since his brain was---his brain.
The woman was startled. He waved his fingers at her, smiling on autopilot.
"Yeah, no. Wade. Wade is fine. No one calls me Mister Wilson. That's basically like asking me to tie you up and beat you while you call me Sir or something. That's a thing now, apparently? Chicks who like guys to beat them while they call them 'sir'? I don't get it. I'm not into the whole beating thing unless it's for money and then usually it's followed by killing. Not women. Not usually. Mostly men. Bad men. Sorta bad men. Bad is relative? I don't know. My head is a little messed up? Wade's fine. You're Ella. You sing pretty. Anyone ever told you that?"
Women who looked like Ella, sang like Ella, moved like Ella, they were told how good they were all the time. They were always told how beautiful they were because it was a thing for them. A way of life. No one told Wade anything pleasant or positive about himself. He wasn't the kind of man who got positive compliments unless it was on his ability to kill.
Something told him Ella didn't know anything about killers. She sang with enough joy for a man to believe she'd never known pain in her life nor had she ever seen death up close, personal, unnatural. There wasn't anything unnatural in her face, voice, or manner. Ella was the kind of lovely which didn't know unnaturalness.
"Sorry if I talk too fast. Or much. I can't---I have limited self-control. My brain thing? It makes everything harder for me. You need help? Cooking? Doing whatever? I can help. I'm fast. Very fast. And fireproof. That's a good thing. In the kitchen. Being fireproof."
~*~
Ella didn’t mind that Wade had let himself in, but he hadn’t made any noise at all. Being in a new place was disconcerting, since she’d known when there was even the slightest change to something in her family home. She missed the physical reminders of the memories she had of her parents. Knowing it would make her smile slip, Ella pushed the thought from her mind to focus entirely on Wade. He seemed like a kind man, if maybe a little lonely. She understood lonely.
“I’m not sure I understand why anyone would want to be hit,” she ventured uncertainly. It was easier to focus on the brighter things. “Thank you for your kind words. My parents loved to hear me sing. Now, it’s a reminder of them and the happier times we had together. My mother died when I was a young girl, my father only two years ago. I’ve been taking care of my family home even since.” Ella purposefully left out any mention of Lady Tremaine and her stepsisters, determined to enjoy her reprieve, however slight it might be.
“You are a...bounty hunter? I believe that is what we call someone of your position, where I’m from. I don’t mind that you’re talkative. I’m...on the quiet side, with the exception of my singing. I would be happy to listen to whatever you have to say, Mr- Wade.” Ella smiled self-consciously as she caught her mistake. “The stew needs another few minutes before it’s ready for a taste test, but would you mind getting the plates down from the top cabinet? It’s a bit taller than I can comfortably reach and I don’t want to break anything.”
Ella decided that she liked Wade. Maybe all he needed was for someone to listen, and be kind. She had a feeling being kind would be much easier with Wade than with her stepfamily. “I apologize if I don’t understand some things. This place is...very different from my home. I’m afraid I might not be as knowledgeable about certain things. Though, I am pleased to discover the changes in the kitchen. The faucet, for instance, is much more convenient than the well I use at home.” She offered him a warm smile, gesturing to the cabinet where the plates were. “Thank you, for your help. And your company.”
~*~*~
"Thank me for my company?"
Wade made a disparaging sound as he moved through the small kitchen to put a foot onto the countertop, stepping onto it as easily as if he were taking a single step up a single stair. He had to duck from how low the ceiling was in comparison to his height -With his head on right, Wade was 6'4" in his bare feet.- but it wasn't a hardship on him to retrieve the plates. Gathering a serving plate, a serving bowl, and a bread plate for two, Wade stepped back down from the counter to move back to the table to start placing everything properly. He had no memory of where he'd learned how set a table, but he knew how.
Wade didn't remember anyone teaching him to use a katana either. He definitely knew how to do that.
He didn't ask too many questions at all really. They gave him a headache which made him want to stab himself in the face with his own blade. It only made a mess, never fixed anything. Best to leave it all alone in Wade's opinion.
"No one thanks me for my company. They sometime thank me for my work since I'm pretty good. Being indestructible? Totally good for business when you're an assassin. I'm not really a bounty hunter so much as that. Assassin. Bounty hunters only bring in people who are wanted for some kind of crime or reward. Me? I'll bring in anyone for the right amount of money. As long as it's interesting. Gotta be interesting or the money doesn't matter. I usually don't know what to do with the money anyway. Crazy brain is crazy."
Wade waggled his eyebrows at her as he breezed by her to the sink where he took her dishcloth to wet it, adding a sparing amount of soap before going over to the countertop to wipe it down. He had been walking on it. No sense in making Ella clean up after him even if he didn't see the tracks.
"Your family is dead, huh? Sorry to hear that. We all die though so you can keep smiling! You'll see them again someday when you're dead, too. I don't think I can die. I won't see anyone except the living. I think you're probably luckier than me. You're definitely better looking and a much better cook. What's it like where you are at home? Like medieval times or something? All knights in shining armor and that kind of thing?"
~*~
“Oh,” Ella said softly, startled as he simply stepped up onto the counter like it was nothing more than a stair. Surely there was an easier way to go about getting the plates! But Wade found exactly what she needed and even set the table. It left her feeling a little odd, wondering why he’d set the table for her. It had always been she helping the staff, and after Lady Tremaine had let them all go, no one had helped her with a thing. Ella was struck by just how disconcerting receiving help made her feel. “It was very kind of you to set the table for me,” she remarked, thinking it would be silly of her to thank him yet again.
“You could donate your money,” Ella suggested, “to those less fortunate. I don’t know that I’ve ever met anyone who is in a similar employ, but I believe that will be the case for most of the others here.” She offered him a warm smile, unafraid that he might be there to kill her because she believed he would have done so already. There wasn’t much of anything interesting about her, and though Lady Tremaine might want nothing to do with her, she’d have to pay for help around the estate if she kept it. It just didn’t seem logical that Wade might want to hurt her.
He made her chuckle as he continued. “You flatter me,” Ella chastised lightly. “We have a well where I draw water from daily, sometimes more if Lady Tremaine or my stepsisters take a bath. Our oven and stove are both wood burning, and our ice box is much less effective than this one. I quite enjoy the convenience of it, though I’m not sure what that does,” she admitted, pointing to the microwave above the stove, “or that,” pointing to the toaster on the counter. “Do you know what they’re for?”
~*~
Cooking was not something Wade bothered with on the whole. Mostly? He ate the kinds of food available in 24-hour filling stations or fast food. It wasn't like he could go into a restaurant and sit down for a meal. Take-out was an option. Sometimes. Delivery, too. It really depended on where he was at the time. Food was what it was to him. No matter what he ate, he wasn't ever changing.
Ella was a strange bird. She seemed to have no idea what she looked like or how impressive her culinary skills were to some guy like him who was used to eating beans out of a can if left to his own devices. It didn't surprise him or worry him to think she hadn't come from a place with electricity or where toasters and microwaves were the normal way to do things. He'd already figured out she was from somewhere earlier than him.
"The one thing with the levers? It's a toaster. You can toast bread or English muffins or bagels in it. Makes the bread a little warm and crunchy? I don't know if you have toast where you're from though I think I saw a thing on The History Channel about a forked cast iron rod you held bread in while holding it over a fire to toast things? Could be wrong. Like I said: brain thing."
How was he supposed to explain a microwave to someone who didn't know what electricity was? Wade crossed out the option of putting his head in it and turning it on. He'd find it funny. Ella might cry or scream or something. That wouldn't be funny at all. It'd most likely wind up getting him attacked by whoever else had met her already. She had the air of someone who attracted protectors. Wade was hungry, not interested in a fight.
"I'm not really the altruistic type on the usual," he muttered, finally deciding, "The box with the numbers? You open it, put frozen food in it, and use the buttons or the numbers to thaw or cook the food using electricity which is just like harnessed lightning. Cool, huh? I mean, interesting. Good? I'm sorry. I use a lot of pop culture references you really aren't going to get. Who brings in water for your bath? Do you have your own maid?"
~*~
Wade was an interesting person, but she liked that about him. Uniqueness was a trait that should be nurtured, not diminished or chastised or inhibited. She liked the way he explained things, and there was an appreciation in her smile when he didn’t think her silly for her questions. “Oh yes, we do have toast. Oftentimes I make it in the skillet because it’s easier and I’m able to cook multiple things at a time. Breakfast is sometimes a tricky meal to coordinate timing for,” Ella admitted, moving to the stove to stir the stew. It was ready to serve, which was likely a good thing given how hungry Wade seemed.
She very carefully lifted the large pot and carried it over to the table, setting it on a few doubled up cloths so that the heat of the pot wouldn’t burn the wood of the table. “It sounds interesting. I’ll have to test it out a bit, thank you. I don’t mind that I don’t always understand your references.” Ella ladled out a generous portion for him and then only a half size in comparison for her. “Come, enjoy,” she offered, before returning to take the bread out of the oven. It was sliced and put into a bowl before she brought it to the table.
“I’ve taken care of the household since my father passed. He was a merchant and would travel great distances many times of the year. When it was my mother and I, there were staff that helped run the house. I learned a great deal from them. She passed when I was a young girl, and my father years later, after he’d remarried. Money was a concern for us, and so the household staff were let go. I picked up many of the tasks, as I had the most experience of us all. Lady Tremaine and my stepsisters have...other talents,” Ella explained, more than willing to share her story as they tucked in for their meal.
“I hope you enjoy it, Wade.”
~*~
Someone with more sensitivity with Wade Wilson would have listened attentively to Ella prior to dishing themselves a bowl of her stew. They would have looked at her lovely face, possibly even reached out a hand to touch her arm or her shoulder to give an empathetic squeeze. She had admitted she was an orphan who was left in the charge of a stepmother with two daughters of her own to raise and no staff to care for any of them in a time when modern conveniences weren't even dreams.
Wade Wilson was hardly a sensitive man. He was eating as soon as the stew was on the table. One hand held his spoon as if it were a weapon while the other was clenched around a slice of hot bread he bit chunks from as he ate the stew. There was nothing wrong with her cooking even if she likely hadn't gotten an education. Just went to show public education as a concept? Fucking stupid.
He loved being right about things. Even if he was only right inside his own head.
Nodding, Wade muttered, "Stew's great. Bread's great. Eat something. Don't think about your stepmother or stepsisters. They all sound more like stepbitches to me. Lazy. I can tell even if you won't say it since you're nice. I'm not nice. I'm insane. I'm glad you're here, Ella. You'll be treated better. You've got my word on that."
No one ever gave him anything. People only bartered or bargained with him for what he could do for them. Wade was a tool. He was a crazy tool, but he was a useful tool all the same which was why people put up with him.
The fact they couldn't kill him also helped.
A lot.
Whatever.
They were all jealous fuckers.
"I'll make sure people treat you good. Maybe not as good as you deserve, but I don't think I know a world where people could understand how to treat someone as good as you. I'll make sure we all do our best. Gotta be good enough. All I got, y'know?"
He shrugged, went back to eating.
It was really good stew. Shouldn't let it get cold. Go to waste. That would just be a damn shame and Wade did hate a damn shame.