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Chapter Text

Nathan's name curls around Wade's bicep in two rows. All six of his names, the second row tucked under the first so that most people would think it was three different names. Nathan Christopher Charles Dayspring Askani'son Summers becomes Nathan Dayspring; Christopher Askani'son; Charles Summers.

“I used to think I was getting three hunks,” Wade gripes, into the ripped and hard muscle of Nate's chest. It's so nice. He smells clean and manly and only a bit like gun oil, which is a miracle considering the BFG he lugs around. “And you are definitely only two and a half, maybe two and two-thirds hunks.”

“You want to make a return?” Nate asks, slowly petting a strip of non cancerous skin on Wade's head. He's careful like that. “Soulmate not as described?”

“Hng,” Wade says, kissing the Wade Wins on Nate's chest, the rest lost to the cool dystopian metal cancer on Nate's left side. Together, they're a walking research commercial. Okay, Wade's that by himself, but Nate helps by being infinitely more pleasant to look at. “Don't want to be greedy. You could let me chisel and finish my name on you, though.”

“Is this like the WD-40 thing?”

“N—Okay, yes,” Wade admits. “But you can't say you wouldn't like your ridiculous name to be even longer and cover my whole arm."

Nate hums, and his eye is a golden pulsing ember. He can't even deny it.

Wade is a merc, and Nate is a morally ambiguous member of mutant royalty. Before that and long after, Wade was military; Nate was a child soldier in an apocalyptic future. Together they fight do crimes, mostly.

Wade's young and a hell of a good shot and has no soulmate, so he gets tapped for special forces. It doesn't matter the country. Everyone knows that special forces guys don't have soulmates. It's one reason why they let Wade Wilson in.

He's good. Wade is a damn natural at killing, and he wonders if this is what he's for. If people like him don't have soulmates because they wear away every bit of soul they have left.

Then, Wade goes to sleep one night. He closes his eyes and counts enough sheep to doze off. When he wakes up, there's five names on his arm, which could mean any from one to five newborn soulmates. Maybe more but that's even more unlikely. He even has to check to make sure that only one day has passed for sure, and he ends up conceding he slept for eighteen hours. Someone or someones was just born. Happy birthday. One boy named Christopher Charles Dayspring Askani'son Summers is a fucking mouthful, though, and what the fuck is an Askani'son?

Soulmate names aren't an exact science, but names are always true. Maybe it's a joke that he changes his name to later. It's not any language Wade knows, and he speaks at least three.

A short few weeks later, Wade gains a sixth name, which pretty much cements Wade's thought that there's three of them. Parents Dayspring took a while to decide on baby Nathan as a first name, which doesn't jive with the presumption that they're hippies. They have to be, right? With a name like Dayspring. It must be, like, a predetermination thing.

He doesn't think it's improbably adopted out triplets. There's billions of people out there. Sometimes it takes a little while for whatever soulmate mojo to kick in with a name, right? For whatever thread of fate to connect them just got tangled up with too many names. Or he's just destined to end up with a boy almost twenty years his junior, if they ever meet.

The military finds out Wade's names. It's not like they wouldn't, not when they pay and house and feed and have doctors for him. They're done with Wade because he can't go back to the rank and file after doing the things he's done and seen the things he's seen, and they won't keep him because there's at least one someone he belongs to now. There's no place for that in special forces.

Then he has nothing but the names on arm and a good shot.

Sometimes, Wade wonders if he's meant to be in a weird square with these three. It's only a thought; most people don't meet their soulmates, and even if Wade has three times as much chance as the average person, he doesn't really believe he ever will. He's no good for anyone. He can kill and maybe make a mean meatloaf. That's about it. He didn't think, when he was a kid, about what his soulmate would be like.

Lots of people don't meet theirs. People still fuck and have kids and lives. Wade didn't think he'd have any of that. He didn't think he'd fall in love either, but he's making plans for a white picket fence and maybe, one day, being a better dad than his own was She's his girl, and they're not soulmates but it shouldn't matter. They're both making a little bit of money, and it's just until they can get away and then they'll do something slightly more respectable. Vanessa never asks about the names on his arm, and Wade doesn't ask about the name on the bottom of her foot.

Then Wade gets cancer.

He tells Vanessa he's found one of his soulmates instead of telling her he has tumors. That their dreams for a little slice of suburban life pale in comparison to fucking fate. That it's Chris with dreamy blue eyes, and he's funny and loaded and from a made-up sounding country. She doesn't know that Wade's soulmates are so fucking young that they're not missing anything. She can keep all the pittance they've scraped up.

It's not like Wade will need the money.

Fate deals Wade a shitty hand, and he really, really hopes that his three soulmates got all the luck he didn't.

Christopher Charles Summers was born with a name on him, like just under half of all babies are. Nathan would come later, and his parents are unit Dayspring even if they do not know it yet, and he was always and forever destined to be the Askani'son.

None of that is relevant to a boy with a metal arm, pretending to be a null-scan. Even a useless mutant lives better than most humans. The caste system meant those with power ruled (and usually, those were literal powers), and anyone could take it from them, but only the strongest prevailed. Apocalypse's word is law because he has the mightiest sword.

And one day, Nathan would overthrow him. His parents can only give him so much of history, and most of that is legends about the X-Men, who the Askani revere. They tell him, when he asks, that it is the name of his soulmate on his chest, and that they do not remember what it used to say in whole, if they ever knew.

Wade Wins. Still, Nathan takes it as a good omen. Nathan has to win, for Wade to also do so.

Nathan is the Askani'son, the Dayspring, and his name is infamous to too many people. By the time he's a man grown, Nathan has accepted that Wade must be dead. The world is harsh, and Nathan's enemies harsher, and unless he was as competent and dangerous as Nathan's parents, Wade could not survive. If he could make it, he would be able to find the Askani, and he's not with Nathan.

With a prayer, Nathan hopes Wade forgives for not trying harder. But he will avenge him by obliterating and rending Apocalypse to pieces.

Weapon X sucks. Wade doesn't like to think about it. Bastards got what was coming, and the flashback's been done so many times.

{Extremely tragic. We all know the story. At least you're not alone in your head anymore.}

That's true. Wade returns to his only marketable skill.

{We all know the drill. You get hired to do jobs. One of these is offing Cable. Skip ahead.}

So anyway, Tolliver hires him. Wade has one of the most extremely awkward encounters with his ex in the history of the world, and well, it's easy to say no one wants him like this. Nessie would have stayed with Wade through the horror and terror and accepted it, eventually—but Wade comes to the job almost unrecognizable from who he was before. So's Vanessa.

There's a kind of vindictive glee on his boss's face when Tolliver hands him the job on ‘Cable’, aka ‘Nathan Winters’.

If Wade stopped every time a target was named Nathan, Christopher, or Charles, he'd be a significantly less effective mercenary. Of course, not all of his targets are extremely attractive and dangerous men. Wade may pose a little when he breaks into his base and aims his gun. It's an extreme waste of such a nice specimen of manhood. Woof. It's nothing personal.

Well, to Tolliver, it is. Wade's just the muscle.

There's just something about him. Wade dodges a metal punch only to get the flesh one in his jaw. It sucks. He goes at it, and most of his fancy tech went to neutralizing the mutant kids, not Cable, who can punch with the force of a giant metal arm that works better than the real thing.

Wade's getting fucking sloppy if he can be taken down by five people, but they've got mutant powers, and even his healing factor takes time. Breaking three of his limbs and stabbing him a bunch won't stop Wade. But it will stop him enough so they can truss him up.

“I don't get this kinky on a first date. Unless…You wouldn't happen to be Nathan Dayspring?” Wade's voice goes up about two octaves, as he struggles from the bloodloss. It'll heal. Maybe in another three pages, but for now, he's at the mercy of some mountain climber level knots. He runs his mouth. He knows this isn't his jailbait Nathan, and maybe in another couple of years, Wade can break his heart and find one of the others for him, if he isn't too selfish.

{Or possibly, Nathan Christopher Charles?}

A poor kid with three first names, Wade's never thought about until just now, but he can deal with two soulmates. That's extremely more likely than somehow, Wade having three chances at a good thing. Dayspring Askani'son Summers is definitely a new-age hippie child, though. He'd be a waif of a thing next to Cable, who is huge and can break Wade in half. Hell, Wade's a waif of a thing next to him.

Cable fucking stops in his tracks. It lasts for two seconds before he gets Wade's neck in the crook of the metal arm, threatening to crush it. “How do you know that name?”

Or maybe Wade's gonna get a broken neck because this is Dayspring Summers rebelling against his hippie parents by being the fucking epitome of an old soldier, and then Wade had to ruin it by bringing up his soulmate. Not the best idea Wade's ever had. Or more likely, shit—“What, you his dad? Oh fuck, that's gonna be one hell of an awkward family reunion.”

“Talk, or I'll break your neck.”

“Wouldn't, wouldn't stick,” wheezes Wade.

“Then I'll keep doing it until you talk."

“He's not gonna be happy if his old man kills his soulmate, you know. Does he have puppy eyes? I bet he does. Is the whole mutant teen group just his homeschooling group or—”

Cable orders the kids out, which is probably a lost cause, honestly. They've heard so much. Cable's gonna kill him, and then, he'll cut off his dick so he never touches jailbait Nate Jr, probably.

“Talk, again,” he says, constricting his arm a tad. “Where is it?”

Where's what? Wade can't draw a map like this.

“The name, you blathering fool.”

“Left arm,” Wade gasps. “It's not pretty, hell, I'm not pretty. I didn't think you'd be a romantic.” Holy shit. He might get out of torture for this. Holy shit. He might not when Cable sees the blistering over the names and the fact that there are other names.

Cable rips Wade's sleeve off, which is so startlingly and inappropriately hot that he barely bites back a gasp. Fuck. Is it wrong to get a boner at your soulmate's extremely hot and strong dad and hope he gets even half of that?

There's silence. “Oh, right. I'm covered in tumors and look like a deep fried Freddy Kruger brother. It grows back clear if you wanna read it. Gotta cut it out for it to get pretty.”

“Oath,” Cable swears, and blessedly, Wade can breathe now that he lets go. “How is this my life?”

Cable takes a step back and crouches so that he can decapi—actually, no, he's taking off Wade's mask? That isn't anything like what Wade expected. Oh fucking hell no, is he judging how hot Wade is? He loses that contest by several miles.

“Your name's Wade,” Cable says, and that doesn't sound like resigned father-in-law, but it also doesn't sound like someone who's deciding that Nate Jr can just meet one of his other soulmates.

“Yep, that's me! Hahahaha, please don't rip my spine out. I like it.”

“My name,” and the eye fucking glows? What? It glows? Whose eye even does that? “Is Nathan Christopher Charles Dayspring Summers.”

What. Wade has enough of his blood back to not faint, but also there's something he's been meaning to ask for years. “What the fuck's an Askani'son, then?”

And then, “Wow, okay, you look like a very mature fifteen.”

Tolliver sends Ness-as-Domino after them when Wade doesn't come back. It, uh, doesn't go well, but it's not like they kill Nessie or anything.

The family reunion is so much more awkward than Wade thought because Nathan's Tolliver's dad, what the fuck.

Chapter Text

Nathan's life is a lesson in hubris. Of others, of gods, and mostly, of himself.

Deadpool—Wade—is his soulmate. The more he talks, the more Nathan's sure he knows his voice.

He does. He knows the timbre of his voice and the way his shoulders fill out a set of armor, and he knows exactly how fast Wade can react. He's taken enough bullets for Nathan. Nathan's never known his name before.

Fuck. The healing factor explains a lot, though. He doesn't have the energy for this nonsense. His timeline is already a confusing mess without this.

“So, um, are you going to untie me? I'm just asking because while I'd just love hanging around with you like this—” Wade says, and he's nothing like Nathan expected under the mask. His eyes are expressive even if they're pale and mysterious, and his cheekbones are good. Nathan could trace them with his fingertips.

“You're not going back to Tolliver. I don't care if you stay here, but if you're going back, I'll have to dispatch you.” This is his soulmate, someone who will make him the best version of himself, somehow. Nathan thinks Wade's already done it. The heavens did not part with the Bright Lady's own light when they met, but there was a magnetic attraction. Joined fates. Whatever one wanted to call it when a younger Nate was extremely impressionable for a very muscled man in red with a teleporter and associated him with positive reinforcement.

“What're you going to say to the kids? Oh, sorry, can't let the burglar leave. He's your new stepmom. Man, I am so glad you're not your dad. I thought I was going to pop a totally inappropriate boner—but it's just a supremely understandable boner.” It's going to be a long uphill battle to Wade's best self, though.

“You're not trying to kill me anymore,” Nathan asks. “Are you?”

“Well, no,” Wade says, honestly. Some things are sacred, and soulmates are one of them. “But can you blame me? Man's gotta eat. Can I see it? Is it a tramp stamp?”

“Later,” Nathan decides. This is a later problem. He disarms Wade and secures him the best he can. “I need to see my squad. You were so gracious as to take them down in twenty seconds.”

“Fuck, I'm a terrible stepmom. I get timeout for this next scene, don't I? I'll behave. Can't murder anyone now. But come back soon.”

No one's dead. Most of Deadpool's devices were meant to incapacitate rather than kill, but Nathan has no illusions that it's out of a sense of mercy and not out of the confidence that Deadpool would have finished them off if needed. Their medbay is stocked. Nate tends to the injured.

Rictor doesn't want to be touched, but they've disentangled the dampening net from choking him. Cannonball is slightly more agreeable with being helped. There's not so much as a broken bone on any one of his team. There's other hurts, but it's mostly pride and things that will heal, and it is nothing that stops them from moving ass in an emergency. Nathan can't do anything about knocked heads when he doesn't know if it's bad.

Mutants heal fast. Else, they learn to.

The debriefing is not the most pleasant thing.

“Deadpool's dealt with,” he starts off. “He won't go after us again.”

Bobby wrinkles his nose. “He didn't look like he wanted to stay down. He's … dead, then?”

“Bobby, did you miss the last part of the fight? Because Deadpool said his soulmate was ‘Nathan Dayspring’! Is that really your last name? Very stylish.” Boom-Boom, thank you. Very astute observation.

“We're keeping him, boss?” Sam interjects. “Because you wouldn't—and he can't go back to his boss. He's really your soulmate?”

That's a slightly more loaded question. Marks are proof enough, and meeting a soulmate is rare enough that it's romanticized in every human culture. Killing a matched person is tragedy; killing your own is unthinkable. Nathan's already supposedly the savior of the whole damn timeline, so what's making him a little more special? That little bit of culture survives in the future; meeting your soulmate makes you stronger, a whole lot stronger if you have powers, and Apocalypse tolerated that. That or he was secretly a romantic, and that thought makes Nathan's stomach turn.

“Yeah,” he says, after the terse moment. Nathan hasn't tested out anything; so much of his power goes to constraining the virus as it is. He hasn't even touched him skin-to-skin. “Looks like we're a match. I've got him handled. He's not a threat now.”

Rictor's not happy about it, more so than the others. “And you have him contained? He took us down like nothing. He could do it again. He could escape and come back with backup! How do you know that he isn't, Cable?”

Nathan taps his temple. “I'd know.”

Rictor swears. It takes a moment before he says something disparaging about telepaths.

Nate reaches out with his senses to keep track of Wade. His mind is extremely different. Holding onto the impression of Deadpool's mind is more than navigating through an ever-shifting landscape. It's tricky. Nathan could get lost in it, and he doesn't trust Deadpool to lead him out. Not now. Not as he is.

“Is he cute, at least?” Tabitha asks.

There's no good answer to that one, so Nathan sets his jaw.

Lucky for him, he gets a call so he doesn't have to answer. It's from a number he doesn't recognize, but they use burners in this line of work. It's Domino just about at his door. She must have finally gotten his message and settled her affairs.

He smiles. Something can go right today. Nathan introduces her to the team and lets her pick a room and settle in.

Domino is extremely welcome. Nathan had an elite squad of young mutants, but he still needs to recruit. They're young soldiers. Now he's also up one extremely volatile merc, who he can't just keep in a spare basement, and it's nice to have someone he trusts to herd them.

He has to go back to the library. He really can't keep him there forever. Maybe they could set up the Danger Room.

“Could just keep me in your bedroom,” Wade leers. At this point, he's just humoring Nathan with not breaking out of the restraints. “ 'Swhat I deserve, isn't it, Nate?”

Nathan doesn't dignify that with a response. It's just a tactic. Letting him goad Nathan isn't a good use of his time. “You could make yourself useful. ” He could be. He's good in a fight. Nathan's not making the offer, but Deadpool gets it just as sure if Nathan projected the thought into his head.

“Man, you know the life. You double cross an employer and you'll never get good work again, even if it's in the name of love and chemicals.”

“And that's a problem?”

“Oh fuck you," Wade says, without real heat. “Huh. $%£¡! Fuck! Oh, I can do both. Not a regular imprint, then. It is a problem because I need to pay rent. Unless you want me as your kept man. This is kind of a snazzy place. Nice carpets.”

Nathan shouldn't find his humor endearing.

“Even if you're not going to validate the ‘soulmate sex is mind blowing’ rumor,” he pauses. “That definitely got me a smile, right? That's just your grumpy man smile? Take me to meet your friends, Nate. I want to know more about your surrogate children.”

Something in his heart twists when Deadpool calls him Nate. It—if anyone has the right, his soulmate should count on that list.

“You don't touch my team, and we're clear.” Nathan is responsible for those kids. Soulmate or not, he's not letting a threat stay in their base. “And I'll be watching you.”

“But I can touch you, right? Get me some of those sweet soulmate endorphins." That's an incentive. Nathan wonders if it'll work. “ Aren't you missing some kids? I kind of thought there'd be more. I had to study so many dossiers.”

Nathan cups Deadpool's face with his flesh hand. Wade leans into him, nuzzling it with his textured skin. The soulmate's touch endorphins were, in fact, real. Nathan feels warm and invigorated; he feels like he could lift a car with his flesh side and not just his mind.

“Okay, nothing hurts and that felt really nice,” Wade says. “Nice break from chronic pain. Pay me in cuddles. I'll save so much on drugs.”

“I better not regret untying you." Chronic pain, Nathan notes. A side effect of the regeneration?

“You can tie me up anytime." Wade's flippant flirting—a distraction tactic at the very least—needed some getting used to.

Stab his eyes. Nathan's already thinking about getting used to it. He wonders how far down the scarring goes, if Wade has any hair for Nathan to nose into. But he needs to be absolutely sure. “Your full name, what is it?”

“'S Wilson. Wade Winston Wilson, at your service,” Wade replies. “That mean you're going to strip down for me now? I'll swear I'll not get handsy."

Askani save him, Nathan thinks as he tugs down his shirt collar, just enough for Wade to see some of his name. Then, for expediency, Nathan uses his telekinesis to undo the bonds.

"Good. If I stayed tied up any longer, I was going to have to pee on the floor. Fuck, your tits are nice. How far does the metal go down? If I lick it, am I getting stuck?”

Wade's probably not going to stop ogling him. Nathan's been objectified and deified, but outright wanting to touch the virus was new. He manages, “It's warm.”

He doesn't have much sensation on that side. The image of Wade teasing at the edge of the virus, at the battle ground of Nathan's nerves and the technometal makes a little heat rise to his face. Fuck. Mission first. Sort out his wants later.

He makes the executive decision to keep Deadpool on Graymalkin. Professor can keep him in line. Nathan shows him where the rations are, double checks the overrides on Professor, and he promises to come back soon. Wade's got books and the ability to rifle though Nathan's unlocked drawers. It should keep him occupied for at least a day.

“I'll promise I'll clean the sheets when I'm done,” Wade says, and the worst part of not being able to get a grasp on his tingly-shifty mind is that Nathan thinks he really has no filter, but he can't be certain. That's novel. Infuriating. Flattering if all it takes to distract him is appealing to his base desires, and that happens to be Nathan.

“If I'm going to be your kept secret, anything I can do to get let out?”

“You're here until I—”

"—deal with my old boss? Damn, way to make me feel like a damsel in a futuristic tower. I didn't pack any smelling salts in my pouches. If I'm going to be extremely passive and not get to inflict gratuitous violence, what's my incentive?"

Nathan touches Wade's cheek, lightly. Chronic pain having a simple cure is a good one. Nathan wonders if Wade's healing factor has been affected by having him around.

“Oh, okay. A couple of hours of snuggling a day, at least until I'm sufficiently stockholmed, I guess.”

“Half an hour,” Nathan declares. “Let Professor know if you need anything. He can make you a training course if you get bored, and my data library has books.”

“Holy shit, you've got robots!”

The slide back to base is one of hardest ones he's done in a long time.

Rictor leaves. Sunspot leaves. Nate's down two mutants and up one (possibly two) mercs, and this team needs more hands. Nathan needs to recruit.

Domino helps him with the recruitment files. It's damned nice to speak with an adult again.

“This isn't where I thought you'd ever end up,” Domino remarks, leaning in the doorway while Nathan cleans his guns. “Babysitting kids.”

“They're not children. They're soldiers,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag. It sounds hollow. “They're dangerous, and they're not just kids.”

“No more than we were,” she teases. “You were born with a gun in your hand. But?”

“They're mutants. This is what the world's like, for people like us.” Nathan's dad shot—shoots beams out of his eyes. Nathan has always been dangerous. “But control of their powers is what we can work on.”

Domino laughs. “Are you a teacher now? Who's the best marksman?”

“Boom-Boom, actually."

They pick up an mutant named Siryn by chance, and Nate can see her potential. Second generation mutants like her—like Nathan, should stick together. Not that he'd tell her about the weight of legacies.

She already knows.

Nathan schedules his daily half an hour with Wade, and it's not wise, but he can feel himself softening. Wade spends days obsessed with Jean, Hank, and Scott. The robots, not the X-Men.

(“The robots! Are they like family? With you being metal and all?”

“Yes. Greymalkin is my home. They've been with me a long time.”

“Oh. Nate! You were raised by robots, oh-em-gee. That AI always live in this ship?”

“I wasn't—sure. It doesn't matter. Professor used to be in my arm, if you're asking.”)

Wade also takes to wearing a spare shirt of Nathan's like a shift in a ploy that works. It takes two days of that for Nathan to show him how to use the clothes fabricator, and Wade spends a couple more days playing dress up before recycling the outfits and producing half a dozen bodysuits with better armor than his usual one.

Nathan might regret this, but at least he hasn't touched Nathan's arms lockers. That might be because they're hidden and under Professor-gated voice control, but still.

Wade has no sense of personal space. He's always crowding around Nathan when he shows up, draping himself over Nate like a particularly large and rough cat. Nate can't say he dislikes it, even when they're not skin-to-skin.

“I'm getting bored with space domesticity,” Wade whines, as Nathan holds his hand. “When are going to let me out? It isn't the fifties anymore. I'm starting to feel like a Desperate Housewife or a particularly sad military wife.”

“I haven't finished it with Tolliver, yet. That's what you were waiting for, yes?”

“Fine! I'll help! You wore me down with your fancy space ship and no torture and soulmate tingly feelings and cool new armor and fancy new guns.”

“I didn't give you new guns,” Nathan says, reasonably. He's got him.

“Can I have new guns, pretty please, newer, sexier boss?”

“Call it another incentive.” Nathan says. "There's a no guns needed task you can help me with, and then we'll talk."

Nathan slides back into the base at odd hours. It's just part 2 AM, local time, and Nathan wonders if he should start adding target practice to combat post-soulmate calm. The endorphins are really good for pain, and Nathan can't tell if he's using less effort with his telepathy because he's around his soulmate or because the virus just hurts less when he's touching Wade. Even a small break is nothing to sneeze at. People don't understand that the virus hurts; it eats at Nathan every moment of every day, and his telekinesis may keep him alive and human, but his telepathy dulls the pain. He resolves to meditate to get him back into the right mindset.

Domino catches him just outside his door. It was probably inevitable.

“Now that I've caught you like a boy sneaking back into his room, are you going to invite me in?”

Nathan shakes his head. “I didn't call you here for that. I needed you, but not—"

“—not like that, huh? Way to make a woman feel wanted. Do we not do that anymore, then?”

“I—goodnight, Dom. There'll be a better time to talk about this." Later.

Nathan makes his excuses and leaves Domino with the team for a few days. He takes Deadpool with him to talk to James Proudstar.

They come back with Warpath.

He brings Wade into the meeting he calls when he gets back. To Domino and Cannonball's credit, the base hasn't been blown up. Boom-Boom still might pull a surprise out.

“Team, this is James Proudstar—Warpath.”

Warpath inclines his head. “So this is the team?”

“Well, if you call four mutants and a cyborg a team,” Boom-Boom snarks. “I was really enjoying all the estrogen in the room to balance out the big kahuna over there, but I guess he wanted to change the room on us. I'm Boom-Boom. Tabitha Smith.”

“Theresa Cassidy. Siryn.”

“Ms. Quiet and Deadly over there is Domino,” Tabitha helpfully adds.

Sam has his hackles up when he introduces himself. “I'm Cannonball. Sam Guthrie. I thought we weren't seeing that guy again? Not you, nice to meet you, James.”

“You can call me Jimmy if you want.”

“Hey, kids. No hard feelings, huh? I've got nothing against you. Let's wipe it all clean.”

Domino has been deathly silent, disapprovingly silent, and Nathan can't directly pinpoint why she crosses her arms and glares at Deadpool. Some old merc gossip Nate wasn't privy to?

“You tried to kill us,” Sam points out.

“No, I tried to kill Nate. I wasn't paid enough to kill you, too, unless I had to. You think setting up dampener nets is easier than just slicing you with a sword? Besides, I don't kill kids unless they're about three times as evil as the average adult. Some kids are just evil, and then I don't even charge extra. Everyone's got their lines in the sand. You want me to kill some pedophiles, though? We can make it an outing.”

“Mr. Cable,” James slowly asked. “Did he try to kill you? You are friends, though.”

“Mr. Cable,” Boom-Boom parrots, cackling. “Now that's really not his last name. Can you imagine Nathan Cable as a name?”

“Boomer,” Sam pleads.

“I'm just saying Jimmy's polite! It's not like any of us are going to start calling him Mr. Dayspring all of a sudden.”

Domino jolts. Nathan is about to ask why but it becomes evident.

The intruder alert goes off.

They find an alien in the Danger Room, and he's a warrior. It takes a lot of effort to take him down and a blessedly a little less than that to get him to talk.

His name is Shatterstar.

Cable conscripts him. He can make a soldier out of him, and he knows a thing or two about belief in the X-Men.

Then, there's even more commotion, like the day wasn't exciting enough. There's the dog soldiers after Shatterstar, and then there's Morlocks also breaking into what Cable once thought was a very secure base, chasing after a Morlock girl.

Her name is Feral.

Nathan has a team he didn't have to work very hard for, now. What he does not have is a base.

There's no point in sliding Wade back up to Greymalkin. He can just come with them to the new base, once Nathan goes through his contingencies.

They've barely settled into the new mountain base before Nathan decides he has to talk to Domino.

“Is something an issue?” Nathan asks. “You recognize him. He have a reputation?"

“He's a merc, of course I do,” she says, quickly. Almost too quickly. Nathan hadn't heard of him before. “It's not a good one. I hadn't put it together before. That's your soulmate.”

“Domino,” and he's not going to pry. Neena has met hers, of course, she's lucky. She's also lost him, and Nathan would never pry the whole story from her. It was one way they worked, together. They didn't touch what they had with other people. It was the kind of thing that was good in the light before a battle and didn't need talking about.

It wasn't like anything he had with Aliya, or Tetherblood, or anyone who wanted to warm the Dayspring's bed for a night.

It never occurred to Nathan that she might care.

“It's not like he hides his name.” Dom frowns. “Were you going to tell me before or after you brush me off and make me a fool?”

“I'd never do that to you.”

“Men,” Domino disparages. “Good. As long as I know where I stand.”

“With me, I hope. We make a good team.”

Her response is soft. “That we do, Nate. I guess I'm still the mother figure around here. We wouldn't want them taking after Deadpool.”

Whatever Nathan has with Wade is... Indescribable. The mildly intoxicating effect when they touch could have been worrisome, but Nathan feels extremely prepared and a bit assured in the knowledge that Wade is a weapon. Wade presses himself against Nathan's side and babbles, and Nathan's not entirely sure that he wasn't serious about being paid in cuddles.

“You know, you look like the silk sheets kind of guy. I'm kind of surprised you're not. ”

Nate has never met someone who liked to talk so much. He could listen to it all day.

“What I still don't get is how you got to be in charge of all the other fifteen year olds, except for being giant and intimidating and having many guns—oh that's how.”

“I'm not fifteen.”

“My memory's shit and like Scott Bakula, but you're definitely a teenager, according to my arm and how young I am.”

“Time travel.” Nate sighs. “There's a version of me that's fifteen, but I'm older. Obviously.”

“You really have to stop becoming more appropriate for me, else I'm just going to just come in my spandex.” Absolutely no filter. He just has no filter. Nate doesn't even need to read his mind, does he? It's just all out there.

“Speaking of hot in spandex... You and her used to have a thing, right?” Wade also has a way of just saying all the things Nathan wouldn't.

“We shared company.”

“You think she'd go for a threesome?”

Nathan snorts.

“You're right. I'm only inching on you because we're closing in on being chemically co-dependent. It's not like you'd choose cheese grater face.” That's. They don't have enough time to unpack that. Twentieth century beauty standards are fucked up. Wade's his soulmate. Nathan's not that shallow, and even if he were, Wade's clearly very athletic and flexible. “You don't think it's suspicious at all that she showed up right after I did?"

“It's Domino,” and Nathan has to elaborate. “That's her power. She's lucky.”

“Okay, that's a fake mutant power. Take it from the guy who has a knockoff power. Next you're going to say she has to be altruistic or else the luck runs out.”

“No. It doesn't work that way.”

“Only for someone with a mullet. Okay. But, oh, I can't believe I'm going to say this after a few paragraphs and not even the promise of a kiss or a light grope—I was really hoping this was a different genre—but panda-face's luck did run out. Tolliver got her. ”

Nathan stares. “You're joking.” He grabs Wade by the collar. “That's not funny.”

If this is some sort of strange power play because he and Dom shared a tent, Nathan didn't think he could be less endeared to this century.

“Shapeshifter,” Wade rebuts, and he goes slack, like a cat. “He's got a good one on the payroll, and she can't be running around if he's sending someone to undermine you. She's a method actress. And luck powers are fake. I'm plan A. She was plan B. I've got a vested interest in you, now, and there's no way she isn't reporting back that I'm alive as soon as possible. ”

Nathan relaxes his grip a little. Fine. That makes sense. Even if Wade's paranoid, he has no real motive to lie. It would all just be easier if Nate could just check.

Wade elbows him, and it hits a fleshy part. His elbows are surprisingly pointy. Nathan might deserve that. “Also, she's my ex? It's already awkward working with her before she impersonated your ex.”

“Anything else?” He's a telepath. He should be able to figure out if it's Dom. He will. Nathan doesn't like being manipulated, and he's not going to take Deadpool only at his word.

“I,” Deadpool pauses. “I may have broken up with her by telling her I found my soulmate? Also, fair warning, I will stab you if you grab me like that in a non-sexy way again. That's what else.”

Okay, he did deserve it. “We haven't sparred yet. I'll let you get one free hit. If you're telling the truth.”

Copycat had Nathan fooled for three weeks, and if Nathan had been nosier into her mind, he would have caught it sooner. It's enough to make Nathan punch a wall. She's caught and has no fight in her except to spit at Deadpool. They hole her up in the new Danger Room so they can deal with her at their leisure.

Later.

They take the fight to Tolliver, and getting the real Domino back the first priority after ending it.

It's Tyler. Nathan freezes, hesitates. What kind of father couldn't recognize his own son?

It doesn't change what he's done. It doesn't change what needs to be done.

Later.

Real Domino—alive and survivor Domino— is glad to see them, and Wade doesn't look skittish at all to be walking beside her.

“What's she going to do? Shoot me? I'll spit it out later. It'll hurt, but it was business. I never laid hands on her, and I think she was locked up in the basement. It was Tolliver's business."

“I was chained up and trussed like a turkey,” Domino elaborates. She's not looking her best, but she isn't completely depleted. Her mouth is a thin line. “You owe me a lot, Nate.”

Nathan doesn't apologize for not knowing how long she was gone. They live their own lives. He doesn't know how to feel that they used her to get at him. He nods. He owes her more than she knows. “I do. How long were you down there?”

“What's the date?” she says, which isn't a good sign.

Wade hits what Nathan wants to say without being in his head. How does Wade do that? Nathan doesn't know how to be reassuring. “Copycat was here for three weeks, but you look like you've been rolled over for more than that.”

“Months,” she says, curtly. Nathan winces. “So I hope whatever base you're using has a bed I can sleep in for a week.”

“Not yours,” Wade says, completely inappropriately but also heading off the conversation Nate botched with Copycat. “Nate, babe, you're a giant hunk of a man, but it can't fit three unless we're really friendly. And I wouldn't suggest being friendly right now, with how banged up a Terminator you are—”

“How banged up I am?”

“Hold my hand and my last few itchy healing spurts should finish.” That answers that question.

“Wade." Nathan almost sighs.

Domino raises and eyebrow. She's thinking very loudly, Wade, huh?and she definitely knows what's written on Nathan. I reserve all rights to make you talk about this until after we're patched up

He gets the point.

The trail after Tolliver isn't that cold, but he can't see how he can get both these things done. “I've got to go after Tolliver. You both go help X-Force. I'll catch up with you later. I'll give you slide privileges until I get back. Don't wreck my ship."

Domino nods. Wade splutters, protesting, but Nate worms his flesh hand under his mask to stop that in its tracks. “Professor? Got that? Slide by two, new privileges assigned.”

Professor obliges.

Nathan's alone, and he has a mission.

Wade gets the point, later, of waiting. Nate's even more battered by the time he gets back. Nathan doesn't bother putting on more synth skin over his body damage. It's a lost cause, and Nathan's not feeling up to vanity.

And Wade had said, "I knew you were a real cyborg under that."

He can't shy away from what the virus turned him into, and it's only when he lets Wade peel away the damaged layer during their admittedly useful soulmate-endorphin time that Nate kisses him.

“Wow, uh,” Wade stammers. “Your lips are so soft, what the fuck.”

“There's that kiss you wanted.”

“That actually on the table or for just when I do good? I hate to set the bar so high that I'll never get kissed again.”

“Among other things.” They're close enough for another kiss, so Nathan pulls him in. The adrenaline battle rush still might be in him, but it's not like Nathan hadn't wanted this. He trails a hand down Wade's side.

“Is that on the table too? Holy shit I thought we were in one of those “the beauty of masculine gay chicken” smarm-type stories. We got to snuggle extremely fast. ”

“You weren't serious, then? All the flirting?” Nathan tries to find a seam on Wade's suit, but it looks like a one piece bodysuit. He gropes around, and Wade is thoroughly enjoying this part if the babbling is indicative. He leans over and breathes onto Wade's bared neck. “How do you get out of this thing? ”

“I shimmy, ” Wade says. “I'm shimmying. Holy shit, I bet soulmate sex really is the best.”

Chapter Text

“You can't pay me enough not to take any jobs,” Wade tells Nathan, once the dust settles. “I'm an independent woman who doesn't need a man.”

“Money is just an object,” Nathan argues. “But I wasn't going to ask you to. You can't be here if you are, though. I don't need another target aiming for us."

“Wow, you're kicking me out but not taking away my keys.”

Nathan gives Wade an address to a dropbox and a private comm for emergencies. He's not going to make his soulmate fight his war, and Wade can piece himself together. “If you need me.”

“Wow, you just gave me a booty call kit. You're perfect.”

⁂

“You swallowed me and not in the sexy—okay, it's kind of sexy—way! Nate!”

Nathan coughs. That was extremely unpleasant. “It's kind of poetic, in a sense.”

“Okay, you big sap. The old “soulmates are one” theory doesn't extend to you having to vore me to fix that.” Wade huffs. He looks down. “Okay, but I wouldn't mind doing that again if this is where it gets me.”

Nathan takes him in, unscarred, and Wade smiles. “Like what you see? Now that we're all unmelted and gross, you wanna do that in the fun way?”

It's going to hurt Wade when he's back to his usual self. It's better if Nathan doesn't acknowledge it.

Nathan checks on Kruch. He starts preparing for the flight to Singapore. They've got business to do. Irene is extremely good at what she does. This can be good.

“Nate! Excuse me, I'm right here. What's more important?”

Nathan tells him.

“Cool, let's punch in heads.”

“It's a date,” Nathan declares, and Wade squeals as he hops onto Nathan's back.