Work Text:
1.
"Parker Residence, how may I help you?"
Mary Jane paused on the other line, her breath hitching as if she was about to say something but stopped herself. Wade was no expert, but from the way she clicked her tongue, he would have guessed the following words were supposed to be angry.
Wade waited patiently, holding the phone with one hand while his other picked at something between his teeth. Popcorn was delicious but ruthless.
"I didn't know Peter had a secretary now."
"It's a terrible gig."
"I wouldn't be surprised if he got a butler without my knowledge too."
Wade was starting to think Peter was very lucky he didn't pick up this call.
"Oh, he's dusting right now. Do you want me to put him on?"
That drew a chuckle out of her. Who said Wade couldn't handle a pissed-off person without egging them on for fun? He could be civil! It was just less entertaining.
"Hi, Wade."
The mercenary grinned. "My employer might not be happy with such informal language."
"Where the hell is he?"
Wade licked his lips as he finally got the damned popcorn piece out of his teeth. He stretched out his legs on the couch, hitting the edge of the coffee table. Peter was passed out next to him, curled up on the couch in such a way that it was hard to tell where his arms or legs even were.
"He's completely conked out."
Wade had been telling Peter to go to sleep for hours, but the man insisted he was fine and they should watch a movie. He was already snoring by the time the Pixar lamp started stomping on the letter I.
"Do you want me to pass on any messages? It's kind of the whole point of the gig."
Mary Jane didn't chuckle at the obvious joke this time. Instead, she sighed, long and a bit frustrated.
"No, I... He just hasn't answered any of my texts for like a week."
"Really?" Wade pulled the phone away from his ear to glance at the screen. There were 99+ unread notifications, plenty of missed calls too. "Huh. He's an ass."
"I know!" The frustration she tried to keep at bay peeked through as she exclaimed. Wade pretended not to notice.
"To be fair to him, it's been kind of a crazy week."
Sinister Six had a very destructive reunion.
"I know, I watch the news. And I was worried about him."
Wade's eyes found Peter's sleeping face again. From first glance, he looked peaceful, snuggled into the pillow so deep he was almost suffocating himself. But Wade couldn't help but notice the way his shoulders were still stiff. The way his eye bags darkened his face. The way he clutched at the pillow with a white-knuckled grip.
Even when sleeping, he was still tense. Still on the edge. Wade wished he could somehow communicate to Peter's body that it could relax when Deadpool was near. That he was safe.
"He's alright," Wade said, forgetting if the words were meant for Mary Jane or for himself. "Exhausted, but alright."
He brushed his fingers along Peter's hairline, pushing a few curls out of his face.
"Good. That's good. I'm glad he's not alone."
Wade blinked, not realizing she meant him. No one was ever lucky to have Deadpool around. Peter's luck worked in weird ways, though. As a scientist, Spider-Man had way more theories than normal about the way his luck worked. The topic made him ramble for hours, recalling every event in his life and connecting them to each other. Or was it connecting them to things that could have happened but didn't? Or maybe there was something about karma and how Peter only ever got the bad kind...
Wade was convinced a research paper was coming. He would figure it out then.
"Don't tell him, but sometimes it's so scary being his friend. Every day I turn on the news and dread a report about his body being found in the middle of the street, broken. It's stupid. He's supposed to bring people hope and courage and—God, I'll go full gray before I reach thirty."
Wade smiled faintly at the words, understanding them like nobody else could. Yet he didn't know how to respond. He didn't know how to comfort her. Anything he would say would be a lie anyways. As strong and capable as Spider-Man was, the possibility of him getting hurt was always there. Deadpool made it his mission not to let it happen.
But he wasn't as invincible as he pretended to be either.
"You'll pull it off," Wade whispered, even though he was speaking at full volume before. Peter didn't even stir at the noise.
She chuckled, a bit wobbly. "Thank you, Wade."
"I'll make him reply to every single one of your messages, alright?"
"Just a call would be fine too."
"MJ, MJ, you are clearly an amateur at negotiation. You have to start big."
"Alright. I want replies, a call, and a set time for a coffee date."
"Atta girl."
She let out a brighter laugh now.
"Bye, Wade."
"Thank you for reaching out to Parker Residence. We appreciate your call."
2.
Wade was snooping through Peter's bedside drawers when he heard the phone ring. It buzzed somewhere between the covers of Peter's unmade bed, the sound tempting Wade to instead snoop through the bed.
Peter had made some half-hearted complaints about Wade's tendencies to put his nose in his business. Yet the man was so uncaring about his so-called business, leaving his phone or keys or sometimes even web-shooters right in Wade's lap.
He finally found the phone and flipped it over, reading the caller's name.
J. Jonah Jameson.
That's just unfortunate.
Wade let himself briefly glance at the bathroom door, where Peter was taking a shower. An activity that leaves you clean and relaxed. Talking with Jameson would just reverse these effects. And he couldn't let that happen to his darling! Wade taking this call instead of Peter would truly be selfless. Honorable, even.
"Yes?" Wade chirped into the phone as he plopped down on the bed on his stomach, kicking his feet in the air.
"Parker! You better get your ass here in ten minutes or you're fired. Fired! You hear me?"
"Loud and clear, emphasis on the loud."
"Don't sass me—wait." Jameson suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Parker?"
Wade imitated the annoying incorrect sound of a buzzer button.
"Not quite."
Jameson, even more confused now, huffed. "Who are you?"
"That information has a price, and I don't think a journalist's salary covers it, bud."
There was a brief silence as the man processed the words.
"Where is Parker?" Jameson asked, his voice a bit more level than before.
Wade recognized the tone well. It was the one people used when they thought Deadpool was about to hurt them and they tried to reason with him as a last resort. It was a weak act of calmness as their brains ran every horrible scenario a mile a minute.
Yet Wade didn't pose any danger to the reporter. At least not today. The tone wasn't meant for himself. It was meant for Peter.
Huh. That was almost heartwarming.
"He's in the bathroom." Wade answered casually, hoping to escape any kidnapping rumors. Peter would kill him.
Jameson fell silent again. He was clearly debating whether he believed Wade.
"I did not kidnap him. Or murder him. Or stolen his identity."
There, he covered the most common ones.
"Sure. And what are you doing with his phone?"
"He left it."
"How many times do I have to tell him to be damn careful! People in our business get in trouble all the time! The boy is way too trusting."
Wade let out a surprised snort. Peter always complained about Jameson, but he never mentioned the man mothered him. This really puts another layer onto that whole mess of a relationship.
He couldn't wait to bother Peter with it.
"I tell him that too. Can you believe he sometimes forgets to lock his apartment door? He always says that he was rushing and that there wasn't anything worth stealing there anyway."
Jameson grumbled. "Ridiculous."
"His phone doesn't even have a passcode."
"What!?"
"Yes." Wade nodded solemnly. At least Peter had a separate and a way more secure phone for Spider-Man stuff.
"He could leak classified information!"
"Isn't he just a photographer?"
"So? My employees shouldn't be this careless!"
Wade suppressed a laugh. Pointing out how The Daily Bugle was not the FBI would ruin this energy they were sharing, and wow, was it interesting. Peter will never believe him.
Jameson let out a deep sigh. Wade imagined it made his mustache float in the air.
"He's not coming to work today, is he?" The man asked grimly.
"Well, it is Christmas."
"Do you think criminals care? Do you think that menace does?"
"I think he does a little bit."
"Crime doesn't sleep! Stories don't just stop because idiots want to dance around a tree!"
"How's your heart? Are you sure it hasn't shrunk three sizes?"
"You're not clever."
Wade just grinned.
"I don't know who you are, but you're clearly a bad influence on Parker."
"That's the dream."
There was brief silence on the other end again. Probably so Jameson could take a breath. Wade was kind of jealous of the way the reporter managed to talk fast and loud without unnecessary interruptions like breathing.
"You're an idiot."
"Merry Christmas!"
Jameson just grumbled something under his breath and ended the call.
3.
"Shit."
"Just don't—stop moving."
"I'm not moving!"
"I think you're fucking moving, Peter."
The man hissed when Wade's needle went under his skin again. It was a nasty gash and it needed to be closed up immediately before they would need to deal with an infection.
"Sorry," Peter said and let out a breath, a bit shaky. "It's been a while."
"That's what you get for being stupid."
"I wasn't being stupid—fuck."
Saving Deadpool was objectively stupid.
Wade just clicked his tongue, focusing on the stitch. He never really treated his own wounds, but he did have the training. And ever since meeting Spider-Man, that training seemed to be of a lot of use. It was ridiculous that Wade had to be the one to get Peter a med kit. Apparently, before that, the man just downed a lot of painkillers and hoped the problem would resolve itself somehow.
Peter let his head hit the bathroom wall behind him as he looked up at the ceiling. They were crammed up in his tiny shitty bathroom, Peter sitting on the toilet and Wade kneeling beside him. It was quiet except for the faint sounds of traffic coming from behind the opened window and Peter's own ragged breathing.
And then the phone started to ring.
Peter reached out to grab it from the edge of the sink.
"It's Aunt May."
"Answer it."
"I can't answer it."
"It's Aunt May!"
"I know."
"You know how much she likes hearing from you."
"I know!"
"So, answer it!"
"I can't!" Peter shouted out in the same breath he groaned at the sudden pain. Wade winced, trying to calculate how many bags of frozen peas they will need after this. "She's not stupid, she'll know I got hurt. And then she will get worried. And sad. And scared. And—"
"Fine. I'll answer it then."
"Wade."
Peter was barely able to protest as Wade snatched the device out of his hands. Wade's heart tugged a bit at the weakness of the man.
"Hey! It’s Wade. How are you?" Deadpool put on his cheeriest voice as he slipped the phone between his ear and shoulder blade, his free hands continuing to stitch Peter up. He could multitask just fine, even if Peter's glare seemed to doubt him.
"Oh, hi Wade. I'm good. Just sat down after dinner." Peter's aunt hesitated only a second before replying. She had met Wade before, and he could never tell what she thought of him. Usually his people-reading skills were quick and efficient. But the older woman seemed relaxed one minute and simply polite the other. She laughed at his jokes sometimes. But also sent him inspecting looks.
Still, it was a better reaction than from most.
"Is Peter not around?"
"He's..." Peter bit his lip to stop a groan from going out. Wade patted his thigh sympathetically; he was halfway done. "Out."
"Without his phone?"
"Don't worry, he at least didn't forget his jacket."
"Oh, well, I can call later then. I don't want to bother you."
"You're not bothering me," Wade said quickly, at the same time pointing at a glass of water on the sink. Peter rolled his eyes and picked it up. He needed the hydration. And the distraction. Because this next little section might be rough.
"What did you have for dinner?"
"Just some lasagna. I was thinking of bringing the leftovers to the shelter."
"That's a good plan. I should really get your recipe one of these days."
That was a risky move on Wade's part. He could almost hear the audience in his head quiet down and lean forward, waiting for the reaction.
"Of course, I would love to! It's one of Peter's favorites."
The audience stood up and cheered, whooping and hollering and—
"Fuck!" Peter almost choked on his water as Wade pulled the string sharply. Wade ignored him. He couldn't help him in any way except finishing taking care of the wound.
"Is everything alright?"
"Sorry, I poked my finger. Doing a bit of embroidery right now."
"I didn't know you liked that kind of thing."
"It's a secret talent. I'm really good with a needle." Wade grinned. Peter just wheezed quietly.
"I always liked knitting. Just give me the needles, turn on a sitcom and I will be stuck for hours."
"If it's Golden Girls, those hours could turn to days."
Aunt May chuckled, louder than Wade expected. "That's so true!"
"Oh, God..."
This time it wasn't clear whether Peter was reacting to his own pain or the realization that Wade and Aunt May shared an intense love for The Golden Girls.
Wade decided to cover all bases and simply make a shushing motion at Peter. The wounded man just glared at him and mouthed 'hang up.' Wade stuck out his tongue.
He was not about to lose this chance of unexpected bonding.
And if Peter's whining became more insistent the more he chatted up May, Wade pretended not to notice.
4.
"Parker Residence, how may I—"
"Have you ever heard of The Hornets?"
"Are they giant hornets about to destroy New York for the third time this week?"
"No, it's... uh." Harry stopped talking, his voice fading out as if he pulled the phone away from his face. Probably to check if he dialed the right number. "Hello?"
"Mornin'."
"It's not morning."
"And I am not Peter. This conversation is filled with many mysteries."
"Seems like it," Harry agreed carefully. "Wade, right?"
"I go by many names." Wade tried to sound ominous but had a distant feeling he failed. Harry let out a noise of amusement. New Yorkers, man.
"So. Have you heard of them?"
"Giant hornets?"
"No. The family. Old money, some criminal activity in the past but seemingly clean now. They go golfing every Saturday."
The name Hornets might have breezed through some of the filthy places Deadpool used to hang out at. Places where you came looking for someone to employ or to be employed. People with money always stood out, their stench of elitism following them like a loyal dog.
"Sure, what's in it for you?"
"I need them investigated. And soon."
"Look, I'm not Peter."
Wade left the words 'I'm not Spider-Man' unsaid. It was obvious.
"But can you help me?" Weirdly, Harry wasn't affected by the statement. By either of them.
Wade thought it over for a moment.
"Maybe."
"Do you need me to pay you? Would that help? You're a mercenary, right?"
Oh, this was starting to become very intriguing. Weasel will flip once he finds out Wade managed to find a client just like that.
"Forget the maybe, it's an absolutely. How may I be of service?"
"I mostly need some information."
"Wait wait," Wade stopped him as he looked around. Damn Peter and his disorganized apartment—there! He quickly grabbed the notebook and flipped it over. There was a half-dried orange marker in-between its pages. Good enough.
"Okay, I'm ready. Hit me."
"Yes, alright." Harry cleared his throat. Wade started drawing an orange sun. "They came to me as investors for Oscorp, talked a lot about a beneficial future and their great interest in the company. That's usually how these meetings go, but there was just something... shady."
Wade tapped the marker against his lips. "Shady how?"
"Visibly."
Deadpool snorted. And then drew some sunglasses on the sun.
"Right right, okay." Wade continued to scribble in his notebook. "What time was this meeting?"
"Is that important?"
"Everything's important."
It wasn't important.
"Uh, I think two-ish maybe?"
Wade just nodded and drew an exploding rat. It was one of his better creations.
"You seem to already know they're bad news. What's the point of this investigation?"
"Could I call it simple curiosity?"
"You can call it whatever you want. But that isn't the truth."
There was a pause.
"No. It isn't."
The pause continued. Wade was quite familiar with it. The kind that had an end, if you managed to wait it out. Deadpool wasn't that good at waiting, but the scribbling helped.
He was mid-shading a giant hornet chasing a tiny Wolverine when the other man finally spoke again.
"I think they knew my father."
Wade simply hummed. Honesty. That was rare to get in his business. He should warn Osborn to be more careful next time.
There probably won't be a next time.
When Peter finds out, there will definitely not be a next time.
"Do you want me to find any evidence for that statement?"
"If you can."
"Oh, I can do a lot."
"That works." Harry decided to ignore the implications. Or maybe he was way more morally flexible than his best friend.
"Should we agree on a discreet location to meet in a week or so?"
Wade kept in a laugh. "Do you want me to wear an oversized trench coat too? Maybe some sunglasses? Oh! We should agree on a code phrase beforehand. On the same note, do you want a physical folder or a flash drive?"
"Okay, I get it, I watched too many movies. What, uh, do you usually do?"
"Email."
"Ah," Harry said, probably a bit embarrassed. First times were always rough. "We can do that."
"Or," Wade let the pause linger for dramatic effect. "We could do the trench coat thing."
"I can't tell if you're still making fun of me."
"It would be fun! The mercenary business these days gets very repetitive."
"I never wondered," Harry deadpanned.
No one ever did. Maybe Wade should really consider the secretary’s gig. He would pull off the outfit for sure.
"So?" Deadpool prompted when the other man didn't say anything for the last minute.
"I'll take the flash drive."
"Copy that."
Wade hung up the phone and grinned to himself. He hadn't done a classic investigation in a while. Jessica Jones was way more popular for those kinds of gigs, which was ridiculous! The woman hadn't smiled since she was five. How did she keep getting clients?
Either way, maybe it was time to try to squeeze himself into the detective genre.
Too bad Wade forgot to tell Harry he would do it for free.
5.
"Your phone's ringing."
A poof of color exploded from the vial Peter was holding. The man didn't flinch and simply brushed a hand over his goggles.
"Who is it?" He asked like an afterthought, clearly more invested in whatever experiment he was doing. It had something to do with webs, because of course it did. But also, it might have been related to his boots sticking to ice? Wade got distracted at that point of the rant.
Peter should stop bringing science talk into their sex life.
Wade pulled the phone closer to himself and glanced at the screen. It was Spider-Man’s work phone and it had a ridiculous amount of contacts. Who knew Thor even had a phone?
"It's Human Torch."
Peter grabbed another vial and swirled it around as he peered at his notes. His handwriting was bad enough that he wouldn't need to worry about anyone stealing his ideas. Reading it would be close to impossible.
"Pete."
"What?" Peter asked absent-mindedly as he flipped his notes over. He wasn't even looking at the vial as he mixed it with the previously exploding one. This time the only reaction was some bubbles.
Weirdly, Wade was kind of turned on. Damn those science talks. And damn Peter for conditioning him into associating science with fun times. That might have been his plan all along, the menace.
Shit, was Jameson onto something all along?
"Phone. Ring ring. Blonde douche."
"Just see what he wants."
Oh?
"Really?"
Peter simply hummed in confirmation, writing something down.
Wade grinned.
He accepted the call.
Before Wade could even decide on which fire pun to use, Johnny Storm's voice filled his ears.
"Webs! Finally! I was beginning to think you would leave me hanging."
"I'm sure you're used to that."
The man paused. There were some shuffling sounds on the other line.
"You're not Spider-Man."
"Good job, Bonfire. Do you want a gold star?"
Fireboy let out a long-suffering sigh. "Deadpool."
"So, my reputation precedes me."
"Oh, shut up. Everyone knows wherever Webs goes, you're not far behind."
From Sparky's tone, he was clearly implying some things. Wade paid it no mind. Everyone knew if you wanted to lower yourself to guard dog levels, Spider-Man was just the guy to do it for.
Peter also looked great from behind.
"Don't you have his real number?" Wade asked instead.
Flame Brain cleared his throat before pitching his voice to imitate Captain America from those old patriotism ads. "This is official Fantastic Four business."
Wade snorted. And then cursed at himself. If Candle over here could make him laugh, then his status as a humor connoisseur would really lose credibility.
Storm continued with the same voice. "Mr. Fantastic has discovered some interesting never-seen materials in a meteor from outer space. It revealed itself to be quite unusual and in possession of a lot of curious qualities. The project seems to be bigger than expected and Mr. Fantastic would like some extra hands with research and experimentation."
The man finally took a breath, done with the horribly scripted message.
"Wow."
"Yeah. It's alien goo."
"Goo? All this fuss is about goo?"
"It's apparently very cool."
"No way that's true. It's goo."
"Yeah, but weirdos like Reed and Peter love that shit."
Wade glanced at Peter, currently inspecting a sticky ball of webs between his gloved fingers. Scientists really did live on a different wavelength.
"Yeah, so. Can you get Peter now? Where is he anyways?"
Wade was still looking at Peter as an idea shot up like a light bulb above his head. The light bulb was lit with malicious red.
"A research project on some weird alien goo?" Wade exclaimed loudly, ignoring whatever question Torch asked before. "Oh, I don't think he would be interested."
Peter's hands froze mid-air.
"Really?"
"Sounds very boring."
"Uh, well, Reed has mentioned something about it imitating certain liquids' chemical compounds?"
"Wow, imitating liquids' chemical compounds?"
Wade pretended not to notice Peter's gaze turning on him. Instead, he casually lounged against Peter's makeshift workstation and pretended to be very interested in his nails.
"Yeah, it's like a chameleon. Ben has a theory that it's like a sourdough starter in a way that it's kinda alive."
"Goo that could be alive?"
Peter's eyes narrowed and he started to outstretch his hand to take back the phone. Wade masterfully slipped away to the other side of the room.
"Okay, can you stop shouting into my ear— yes. But no. Just a theory. A Ben theory. So basically worthless."
"Intelligent chameleon alien goo, uh-huh, yes. Old news, amirite?"
"Wade, give me the phone!" Peter was in his space again, desperately trying to steal back the phone.
"Dude, I think you're living in a different technological era or something."
"I get that all the time. Anyways!" Wade continued talking as his other hand tried to push Peter away. "Thanks for wasting everyone's time. Go burn a robot or something—"
"Wade!"
"Is that Peter?"
"What? No, just my landlord."
Peter just groaned but, surprisingly, backed off. He made a beeline for his workstation.
"I could recognize that whiny voice with my eyes closed."
"I don't think you need your eyes to hear."
"Can you just hand over the phone?"
"Can you stop skywriting? It's ruining the view."
"Not as much as your stupid panda mask. Go back to the zoo."
"I will, as soon as you return to high school. We would love for you to finish your degree."
"Dick! I have finished high school just fine!"
"More like—hey!"
Wade's arm went suddenly stiff as it stuck to the wall behind him, completely covered in webs. Peter lowered the half-assembled web-shooter. He raised an eyebrow at the mercenary as he walked over to him with no rush. He kept firm eye contact as he pulled Wade's fingers away from the phone one by one, the touch purposeful and strong.
There was a faint sound of curses coming from the phone.
Peter put the device to his ear, still looking at the mercenary. "Johnny. It's me."
He shot Wade one last glance before moving away, talking into the phone with growing curiosity. Wade didn't really listen to the words.
He was hoping for some science talk later.
+1
Wade's forgotten phone had rung six times by the time Peter finally gave in and picked it up. As a rule, he didn't involve himself in any of Wade's business. At least directly.
But hearing his stupid ringtone (Cotton Eye Joe) more than once was bordering on torture.
"Deadpool's not here right now. Sorry."
"The fuck do you mean sorry?" A gruff tone replied immediately.
Peter couldn't help but put on a sour expression when he heard Weasel's voice. He never really liked the man. He wasn't sure if Wade liked him either. Yet Deadpool still kept the shady man around, even if he was completely capable of managing without him.
"I'm not that sorry," Peter muttered before replying in a higher volume. "Wade's out."
There were muffled sounds of shouting and laughing in the background of the call. Peter had visited Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children exactly one time and hoped to never return. The phrase 'sketchy bar' didn't do the place justice.
"He really picks the best times to ignore me."
"He isn't ignoring you, he forgot his phone."
Weasel huffed a laugh, it didn't sound either jolly nor bright. It brought a slimy feeling over Peter's spine.
"Sure, and I'm dating Julia Roberts. Look, I tried. He can go die in a ditch for all I care," Weasel grumbled before his voice took a regular pitch again. "Oh, and tell him it's Mary's birthday next week. Everyone's chipping in ten dollars and signing a birthday card."
"Wait wait, what about all this calling? What did you want?"
"Hm?" Weasel hummed, the background noise growing a bit louder. "Oh, yeah. The Hornets are gonna sting his ass."
Peter frowned. "What?"
"It's this mafia family, big fans of acid bombs."
"What did Wade do?"
That was always the question.
Weasel sniffed like he was trying to get rid of an annoying booger. Peter winced, trying not to let his imagination run wild. God, Wade will owe him a lot after this.
"He was sticking his nose into their business, the usual shit. Probably would have gotten away with it if not for his attempt to 'Mission Impossible it up', as he called it. He's a bit bored lately; it's a problem."
Peter pinched his nose, thinking. Finding Deadpool without his phone will be a bit more difficult but he used to manage it before. The real issue here was the assassins.
"Do you know anything about what these hornet guys plan to do?"
"So you would do what? Throw a camera in their face?" Weasel grumbled and did that annoying sniff again.
"Just humor me."
Someone shouted in the background of Weasel's line. The bartender didn't react apart from sighing.
"Look, everyone knows Deadpool's situation. An assassination attempt would be meaningless. Unless they manage to give it meaning. Make it a warning for others thinking about snooping around."
"So what? Wade will be their scapegoat?"
"Basically." Weasel sniffed some more. "I mean, they're still angry about him stealing some shit, so it's killing two birds with one acid bomb."
"You weren't joking about the bomb."
"Nope."
"Okay. Sure. Why not." Peter rubbed at the space between his eyebrows, working up to his forehead. Sadly, it didn't help smooth out the wrinkles that were inevitably forming there.
"He'll be fine. Maybe the acid burns will actually make him look better."
Peter pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew Weasel and Wade made those kinds of jokes all the time, but he still hated it. He banned them and forced Wade to do the dishes anytime he joked like that.
Maybe one day, Wade won't need humor to address his appearance.
Maybe one day, he'll believe Peter when he smiles at Wade's bare face.
Maybe one day, he'll let Spider-Man save him without calling it stupid.
"Thanks for the information. Hey, could you do me one favor?"
"What?"
"Please, for everyone's sake, go blow your nose. I'm starting to think you serve snot."
The other line went silent for the first time since the start of the call. Before, there was always shuffling and grumbling and sniffing.
"Fuck you."
Weasel ended the call.
Peter repeated the bartender’s words mockingly to the silent room. And then he threw the phone on the bed, rolling his eyes.
Time to go save Wade from an acid bomb. Or something.