Tʜᴇʀᴇsᴀ Cᴀssɪᴅʏ : ʙᴀɴsʜᴇᴇ (warningsiren) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2014-03-21 11:57:00 |
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Terry had recently fallen victim to the strange Tesseract activity. She was switched into the body of a burly man (which depressed her, why wasn’t she waif-like and androgynous?) She had stopped working on X-Factor stuff and had taken to staying in her room most of the time. When Deadpool left one night, she went and stocked up on alcohol. A couple bottles of vodka. Just in case she needed them. Several days had passed since then. She was still hiding in her room, thinking about what her world would be like when she returned. Terry decided she’d take the name Banshee. There was no body to bury. No ashes to spread. Her father’s death made her feel so small. He died in action-- he was saving people. She slumming it with Jamie back home. And here? She was being a selfish bitch and torturing Wade. It was good she had the vodka. Just in case-- just in case this happened. She needed to stop thinking for a little while. Maybe drink enough that she’d just fall asleep. The bottle was half empty when she heard the front door open and Wade doing something out in the living room. She was feeling floaty, feeling like a noodle, so she opened the door. “Wade?” Yeah, the noise she'd heard? Was Wade plopping several big bags of money onto the kitchen table. God bless him, he'd found a way to get her the money she needed. He looked just pleased as punch, until he heard the croak of her voice, and saw her when she opened the door. Oh, NO. "Terry... Aw, crap in a HAT. What did you do?" Terry slurred, “I did nuffin!” She walked to the table (slowly, slowly) and looked at the money. “What did YOU do?” "...I got the money you needed. All of it." He said with hard, rough growl. He felt his emotions threatening to shut down immediately, both from fear that she was falling apart on him... and fear that being with him was what drove her back to the bottle. "Have a few drinks, Red?" He asked, glad to have his mask on at the moment, so that she couldn't see the tears in his eyes. Her expression twisted angrily, “I was tinkin about me da!” Her accent was nigh incomprehensible. She felt she had ever reason. “I was tinkin about what I should be doin with me life!” She blinked and her face went blank, like she forgot what she was thinking about. “How did you get this?!” Okay, maybe she raised her voice. "Don't worry about it." He said,quickly changing the subject. "Terry.... You can't just do this when you're upset. You can't destroy yourself again." He told her, the heartbreak creeping into his voice as he tried to hold everything together. "I don't think he'd want to see you like this anymore than I do." “It’s a special occasion.” She reached into one of the bags and brought out a stack of money. “Wade-- yeh better tell me where you got all this right now!” "...you don't trust me?" He asked, trying not to sound hurt. "I promised you I wouldn't do anything illegal." He said, sitting down at the table and resting his head in his hands. This was his fault. He just knew it. She felt like she was in a fishbowl. This apartment felt smaller and smaller. Terry considered opening a window and just flying as far as her voice would carry her. She blinked slowly, sighed deeply and left the room. He could follow her, but she was going for the half-drank bottle and the still full bottle. She walked with them cradled in her arms to the sink. "I'm sorry, Terry. I'm sorry that... being with me probably drove you to this." He sighed, before standing...and spinning around to give a frustrated grunt as he threw a swift fist right into the wall, his hand going through it like a knife through butter. Terry sat the bottles down on the counter and looked at him, unimpressed. “Stop ett.” She began to pour out the half-empty bottle. Part of her wanted to stop and take just one last swig. Her hand hit the tap so that it could go down with some water. “Look, look what I’m doin’, for yeh.” A deep sigh. They were going to have to spackle that wall. "No more, Terry. I mean it." He said, voice lowering as he said his next words. "Whatever you need to not do this anymore.... I'll give you. Anything. Even if you... want me to leave you alone." She sadly poured the other bottle out and turned off the tap. “I’ll go to meetings or whatever.” Terry has said that phrase before in her life. She put her fingers into the long bottles and clinked them together. “Waaaaarriors, come out to plaaaay-aaaaa.” It took her a few minutes to compute what he said. “--Don’t leave me alone-- don’t yeh dare!” She sounded angry. "Cool your jets, Red....I just... I thought maybe being with me helped drive you back to the drinking. I didn't want you to feel... stuck with me." He said, before looking at her. "If you... could see yourself through my eyes, just for a day... you'd never drink again." He stood then, walking over to open his arms to her. Frankly, the girl looked like she could use a hug. "I'll always support you, Terry. And I'll never lose faith in you." She stayed with the anger, it made sense. “Why would-- why would being with someone who loves me make me drink?” It was the complete opposite. He was gone when she started to drink and she was lonely, her dad’s death was making her feel morose, like the last Cassidy in the world. “And don’t you-- don’t you ever punch a goddamn hole in our wall again.” "Because, Terry. Because you're so damned beautiful, and yet you get to look at THIS every day." He said, pulling off his mask in disgust. "It's not fair to you and I know it. I love that you can see past it... but you shouldn't have to. I sit here and have my daydreams and fantasies, and I can't even share them with you because I know you're in a bad place right now. And I know it'd grow right back, but I would honestly cut my own arm off just for a chance to take your problems and make them better. Because I know how you're feeling right now. And it makes me sick to think you can feel that way. Because I live my life feeling that way. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY." Terry immediately went into defense mode. She was still drunk and a heavily scarred man was yelling at her, telling her she was beautiful. She covered her ears and shouted, “Stop! Jus’ stop,” she took a few steps closer to him, “I need ta sleep tis off, then we can talk.” Or fuck, since that seemed to be the preferred way of communicating with each other. “I like yeh just the way-- I love yeh, Wade. I care about yeh. Don’t put yerself down.” God, he felt sick. He'd always wanted to hear her say she loved him.... but to hear it for the first time while she's stupid-drunk? It broke his heart. "Y-Yeah. Go get some sleep, beautiful. We'll talk later." He thought about it, before adding, "Anything you need, babe... just let me know, ok? I'd do anything for you." Oh, did he want to just destroy things right now… Terry didn’t want to go back to her room. She had spent far too much time in there lately. So she sauntered over to the couch and lay face down on it. It wasn’t before long that her breathing slowed. She probably drooled a little, too. Sweetly, Wade just sat down on the floor, against the sofa, to make sure that until she was awake and sober... he'd be right there just in case she needed him.Wasn't like he had anything else to do, right? So he just relaxed, trying not to let his thoughts drift back to the bad places they generally tended to whenever he was alone and quiet. Hours passed and Terry slept soundly. She would have a hard time admitting the only times she slept like this, without nightmares or anxiety-- was when she was in Wade’s arms. She didn’t want to need anyone. Because people die, they leave, they forget to stay. It was the middle of the night when she stirred, arm reaching out for Wade. “Oi, me head.” "Yeah, imagine that, right?" Wade said with a mock sense of wonder. "Who'd have suspected alcohol leads to hangovers and insane headaches?" He said, although he leaned over to sweetly kiss her forehead. "You do that crap again and I swear I'm gonna become a native American, cos I'm gonna join the Smackaho tribe." Terry’s mouth dropped open and she looked daggers at him. She swatted at his face near hers, “I’m sorry, I was lonely.” And filled with self loathing, regret, blah blah blah. It was a little manipulative to say that-- then Wade would think he left her alone too long. She quickly added, “Because I wasn’t leavin’ my room.” "Heyheyhey! Chief Smackaho here, I'm tellin' you!" He laughed, shaking his head. He knew he wouldn't tell her what she'd said earlier... he wouldn't put that kind of pressure or guilt on her to say it again. "You want some coffee or something? God, I thought you Irish people could hold your liquor..." “Coffee? It’s-- oh but it’s fucken dark outside! Wade, you trying to keep me up all night?” She knew she was being flirty with him. And again, she felt shitty. Trying to get out of trouble by being cute. Terry hugged the couch cushion. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was quiet and somber. She meant it. "Don't be sorry, Terry. I mean it." He said sternly, knowing that the worst thing she'd ever done probably wasn't even a third as bad as half the shit he'd done in his life. "Just... if you go destroying yourself, who's gonna be here to keep me on the straight and narrow, right?" Terry smiled sleepily. “Okay.” That seemed like a plan. Stay sober so that Wade won’t kill anyone and get SHIELD on his ass. She rubbed her face on the cushion. Muffed, she (kind of) said, “I meant what I said.” "Well... I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear it." He said, without even having to think about his reply. "Because when I hear you tell me that for the first time, I want you to be sober and HAPPY to say it. Not drunk and depressed. No offense." He said, shrugging and trying not to let on how bad it hurt to hear the words spoken in that situation. "Not trying to sound like a jackass here, but I think you get me." “I get you.” She sighed sadly, disappointed in herself. There was a quiet now. A quiet she wasn’t sure how to break. “Do yeh wanna to go up to the thirteenth floor and play Street Fighter? Dibs on Cammy.” Terry then buried her face into the couch cushion, it was muffled but audible, “Augh I feel so gross.” Physically and mentally. "Cammy. CAMMY SHE SAYS." He laughed, showing the occasional emotional maturity that even surprised HIM, by letting it go right there. He didn't want her feeling bad or awkward... so he pushed his own feelings aside and just helped her repress. "Woman, my Akuma WILL END YOU." He reached for his mask, still VERY uncomfortable with anyone other than Terry seeing his face. "Your choice... mask or image inducer? One way or the other I'm rockin' my Pokemon bathrobe." “Always Cammy,” she said, rolling herself off the couch to stand. “... Image inducer.” Terry wasn’t sure there would ever be a time Wade would be comfortable with himself. She hated herself, he hated himself-- what a pair they made. "Fine... BE Cammy. I guess it's better than Vega or Balrog..." He smirked, helping her to her feet. Sweetly, as much as he hated himself, he loved her even more. Meaning that all his own heartache and misery was willingly pushed aside for now, just to help her get that beautiful smile back on her face. Seeing her even SLIGHTLY happy was always the best part of his day. "Also.... just a friendly reminder that I *do* have a birthday coming up in two weeks..." He said with a mischievous whistle. Oh GOD. And face it... we know what his two big wishes were. “So… you want me to play as Vega on your birthday?” When he helped her up, she crossed her arms behind his neck and hopped up to cling to him like a ginger koala. “I’m not going to share you with another woman, Wade. Give it up.” "Not even if I let you pick the chick?" Wade asked, an almost adorable whimper to his voice when he asked. He set his hands under her rear both to support her... and cause face it: he loved touching her ass in ANY WAY. "You are so mean to me...." He said in a dramatic, 'woe-is-me' tone which was clearly teasing as he walked toward the door. Oh, he had no problem carrying her all the way to the arcade games like this. In fact... if asked? He'd likely prefer it. "I'm gonna take care of you, you know." He said, getting serious for just a moment. "Whatever you have to go through from this point on? You go through with me at your side." Theresa had to quickly duck her head into the crook of his neck. She felt she might cry. No one ever said that to her in a way that made her believe it. She believed it. Her uncle was a tree or something-- her father, dead. Jamie… well, Jamie was Jamie and he’d never be hers. She believed Wade. “Well, don’t let me win at Street Fighter, that’s all I gotta say.” "BITCH PLEASE." He said with a hilariously indignant snort. "I love you more than a fat kid loves cake, but even I have limits. And letting anyone beat me at Street Fighter? IS ONE OF THEM." Dear lord. He really was random, strange, and occasionally nutty as hell, wasn't he? Still.... for all his faults (and he had many), he did love this woman with everything in him. She let him carry her to the hall. She even let him carry her to the elevator. But once inside, she hopped down and stood beside him. Her heart skipped a beat as she took his hand in hers. Was any of this real? Was she still asleep? Did she deserve any of this? “Like a fat kid loves cake, hm?” "Ohhhhh yeah." He said, nodding vehemently. "CHOCOLATE cake no less. Still: no way do I let your admittedly gorgeous ass win. I have my Street Fighter dignity, you know." He instinctively pulled her a little closer, just wanting to be touching her. “We should make a bet.” The elevator let out a DING! as it arrived on the thirteenth floor. Terry stepped forward but leaned on the threshold to stop the doors from closing. “What do yeh want if you win?” "Oh, a threesome!" He said, clearly just trying to annoy her. He knew by now she'd never go for it. "And with another chick. No dudes." Good lord. Well, he want about to say the first thing that came to his head. No, that involved seriousness and commitment sand things only crazy people would do. “Wade. ‘m not gonna share yeh.” She reached out to grab the front of his shirt and pull him close. She kissed him-- hard. “Try again.” He said nothing for a good minute or two, just letting himself enjoy that powerful, lusty kiss. He *still* couldn't believe Theresa was kissing HIM this way, and he was loving every second of it. Finally, though, like all good things, the kiss came to an end, after which he gave a comically dreamy little sigh before answering her. "Well, even I'M not crazy enough to say what I'm really thinking, so.... how about we compromise and say I get to go backdoor that night?" OH MY LORD. He really was an expert at rambling his way out of things before they got too serious, huh? Terry’s face read confused for a moment. Eyes like slits and nose all curled up. She didn’t give his request a response. Instead, she pushed at something else, “What yer really tinkin’? Tell me, Wade.” Terry removed herself from stopping the elevator doors and came closer to him. The doors closed on their own. "Don't get me wrong, Red. Going backdoor? TOTES something I want." He laughed, being completely honest, before sighing, realizing she wasn't going to let this go. And damn her, she was far too good at seeing through him for him to even bother trying to lie. "Well, before I say this, please keep in mind that I'm clearly shitballs crazy, ok? But... I guess I was thinking about running off spur-of-the-moment and eloping. SO ANYWAY, back to that game of Street Fighter you're about to lose..." She started to interrupt him, “Don’t bring up sometin’ you’re not going to tell me!” But then he said he wanted to elope. And Terry was speechless. She brought a hand up to her mouth. “We’re the last people-- you’re going to ask me to marry you after asking for anal?” Terry punched him in arm to punctuate her question. "Well if you're gonna nitpick, you technically MADE me ask you after asking for anal..." He replied, a hilariously indignant tone to his voice, before quickly repeating what he'd said earlier. "Annnnnd as I said, I'm obviously touched in the head, so, can I really be held responsible for saying stuff like that?" Terry shook her head. Something about that rubbed her the wrong way. What was she doing with Deadpool? --With Wade? How far was this going to go? She pinched the bridge of her nose. Why’d she pour out all that vodka? “I need to go back to the apartment.” "Whoa whoa whoa! I wasn't even gonna say it! You MADE me!" He said, trying not to panic too much. Key word? TRYING. “Terry, it was just something I was thinking about. I also think about how Hot Pockets are made and why we never saw what Nanny looked like on Muppet Babies. My brain doesn't exactly have normal crap going through it. Come on... don't let this ruin our night." She tried to get her shit together. It was a mild panic attack, really. Thinking about someone wanting to marry her. Thinking about DEADPOOL wanting to marry her. Her lips formed a thin line and there was absolutely no color in her face. She pressed the button to open the elevator doors and walked out, towards the arcade machines. “C’mon Pooly, we got a game to play.” Wade felt a lump in his throat, a nagging voice in his brain that chided him, reminding him that NOBODY would ever want a life with him, much less a woman like Theresa Cassidy. He felt ridiculous, like for a few days he'd allowed himself to think he could ever have any hint of normalcy or peace in his life. She didn’t tell him what she was thinking there... but she didn't have to. It was like the first time she saw his face, all over again. The look on her face was easy to read: the very idea of what he'd said shocked, scared, and disgusted her. And if he lived another hundred years... he'd never forget the look on her face in that moment. But did he vocalize any of this? Of course not. He merely did his best to sound like himself as he ushered her out the door. "Yeah, yeah. let's do this already. There's an ass-whoopin' coming your way." |