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[ Peter hadn't felt too hot, waking up this particular morning. Not a sick feeling, necessarily, but just something...off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, his senses tingling at a low level - nothing actionable, but enough for him to go yes, I know something's up, please stop bothering me about it. Maybe if he were less bleary-eyed, he would have noticed the shimmering something lingering next to the side of his bed, before he got up and stepped right into it.

But he didn't, because Peter Parker is first and foremost not a morning person, which actually makes him a perfectly suited roommate with Wade - who seemed to keep all kinds of fucking hours - much to the consternation of their neighbors, he's sure, especially when they're arguing about the best power ranger at two in the morning (the red one, obviously). No, instead, Peter swings his legs over the edge of the bed and walks right through the damn thing - and doesn't notice anything different until he's cracking his eyes open in the mirror and staring at a very different face from the one he's normally greeted with.

The aborted yelp and crashing from the bathroom is probably par for the course in this apartment, though.

It's not the first time Peter's woken up in a different (?) body here in Folkmore, though he thinks he still sees himself in the lady in the mirror, which is different from last time. She kind of looks like May, like she looked in the old wedding photos on the mantle. So, the fox turned him into a girl. Great.

Peter wanders out into the kitchen ten minutes later, still in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt with some kind of beaver on it that he'd found in a bargain bin. He was already skinny, typically, all lean muscle as his metabolism tried to eat itself - but at least he was tall, to even it out. As a woman, the clothes hang off him more than usual - and he says that as a serial Hot Topic-esque layer aficionado.

That's when he realizes there's a man he doesn't recognize in their kitchen. ]

Can I help you? [ Peter crosses his arms, somewhat awkwardly, over the newly-acquired chest - raising an eyebrow at the intruder. Wade was typically gone by the time he woke up - or something was on fire, which would also wake him up - and if the fox hit both of them at the same time, wouldn't it be with the same bullshit? A logical fallacy, Pete, but to be fair he just woke up - he's not firing on all cylinders yet. ]

[Wade for his part hasn't even worked out that anything's changed, and his face is missing its scars. He hallucinates enough that the shimmer doesn't even register as something worth worrying about hours earlier. He makes a point not to spend a lot of time looking in the mirror... for certain obvious reasons. No one wants to see his face less than himself. He's gotten used to Peter enough not to wear his mask 24/7 in the apartment, at least.

He's up earlier than Peter, but that might be because he never actually went to sleep last night. His sleep schedule is just as erratic as everything else about him. Sometimes he'll fall asleep in awkward positions on the couch or chair too, or maybe even curled up on the floor. Sometimes he makes it to his bed!

Wade turns at the voice mid-pancake flip, blinking dumbly at the woman just as the pancake misses the pan and splats on the floor, awkwardly adjusting his footie pajamas covered in duckies.] Um... I don't know. Can you? You any good at making scrambled eggs?

[He stares at the shirt and the boxers. Wade knows those are Peter's, so he's going to make an assumption that Pete got some last night. Surely he would have heard that, but with the amount of noise Wade makes himself, it's understandable that he'd miss it? And no, he's not jealous! Shut up!]

[ The first time Wade had fully removed his mask, Peter liked to think he’d kept it together pretty well. He knew about Wade’s scars, of course, and had become aware of the fact that they extended beyond just the lower half of his face and neck - he couldn’t walk around in full-body leather all the time, much as Wade liked to try. The beat of silence had stretched, almost as if Wade was waiting for something - a reaction, though what kind, Peter wasn’t sure - until Peter had simply asked if Wade wanted the last slice of pizza.

He wanted to ask, does it hurt? Does it still hurt you? But it hadn’t seemed the right moment. He’s not used to having friends, let alone guy-friends (which always seemed a different breed somehow, you know?) - Peter hadn’t wanted to fuck it up.

Peter’s brow furrows, which is unreasonably cute on the female translation of his face - her eyebrows are more generously tamed than his usual, to be sure. He’s never seen this guy in his life but - are those footie pajamas? ] Kind of hard to fuck those up, I’d imagine. Just don’t put me on bacon duty.

Are you a…friend of Wade’s? [ Peter hazards a guess, slowly rounding the kitchen island to make for the fridge. Something about him is oddly familiar; the dude is staring at him, like he didn’t expect him to be there. Neither of them have ever really brought people around - well, alright, Rue brought them food once and Steven comes over to bang on the door when they’re being too loud, but otherwise - well, if Wade has, Peter hasn’t been in at times to notice.

He has a nice face, Peter decides, cutting his gaze away to focus on retrieving the eggs from the fridge. A nice face, chiseled jaw, kind eyes - where has he seen this guy before? Peter has to push the long hair over his shoulder to keep it out of the way as he pulls out the eggs with a soft huff of annoyance. He knew how to braid hair on someone else courtesy of May, but it’d probably be a whole other experience trying it on himself. Maybe he should figure out a ponytail. Did they have a rubber band around? The answer was probably yes, with the caveat that they all belonged to Wade’s silly band collection or something. ]

Unless you walked in off the street to cook pancakes, which I mean hey, my fault for leaving the door unlocked. [ Peter moves for the mixing bowl in one of the cabinets, growling in frustration when it proves too high for his new height. If he were alone, he’d jump to the ceiling - but instead, he grumbles muttered curses to himself and halfway climbs onto the counter, reaching for it stubbornly. ]

[Most people seeing his scars had a comment. But no comments worse than the one's he had to describe himself, either verbally or in his head. But Peter hadn't done that. It had been a surprise that he'd not entirely known to handle. The insults hurt, even if Wade tried to act like they didn't and that they were nothing more than what was expected. He's an ugly motherfucker. End of Story. Period.

The brow furrow does make Wade do one of his own, this time with actual hair on his brows-- because the look is oddly familiar despite it's distracting cuteness.] Am I... [Huh?] What? Do you know Wade?

[At this point, Wade's questioning if he even knows himself. What the flying fuckballs is going on here? He stops a moment after flipping a new pancake, seeing the woman struggle with the tall cabinet. He moves over to grab the bowl for her. He might not know who the heck she is, but he's just going to roll with it, as he does with most things. It's in handing her the bowl that he finally notices his hands. The only bare skin he could see because of the pajamas. His very, very scarless hands.] What Freaky Friday bullshit is this?

[These definitely aren't Lindsay Lohan's hands, though. They are his. Wade rushes over to the stove, nearly tripping over his own feet, to stare into the microwave above and it at his dull reflection in the tinted glass.] What the shit!?! [His hands go to his face. His handsome, beautiful scarless face.] God damn, you are a sexy motherfucker.

[He feels a twisting in his stomach, because this is definitely not permanent. Of course, it's not. Nothing good ever lasts.]

Edited 2024-07-26 03:37 (UTC)

[ Peter is not most people, as they'd come to find out. He took Wade's bullshit in stride, and generally with amusement instead of incandescent rage, as some others might be inclined towards. In return, Wade kindly looked over all of Peter's oddities and poorly-executed lies (he would argue they're half-truths, but let's be honest in the sanctity of his own head - they're lies). When they met in the middle, they actually got along pretty well. But the fact remains that Peter has never judged Wade for his appearance, and was raised with more than enough compassion that his first thought isn't for himself, and how it makes him feel - but rather Wade's comfort.

Now it's Peter's turn to look completely baffled, edging more towards bewildered than suspicious by this point. ] Yeah? He lives here, dude, of course I know him.

[ All a big elaborate dream? Wouldn't be the first time. Peter slips back off the counter when the guy moves to help him, murmuring a quiet thank you, despite his disgruntlement - wasn't this guy's fault the fox or whomever had decided to fuck with him today. Bowl secured, however, and the random guy seems to have a full-on menty - or some kind of dramatic realization, anyhow. Peter blinks owlishly, watching the guy stare at his reflection like - aw hell. ] Wait -

Is this not - like, your normal? [ Peter hovers to the side, worrying the bowl between his hands. Then the lightning strikes, and he almost drops it, one hand coming up to smack at his forehead. Oh my god, he's so stupid. ] Wait a second - she got you too! She did, didn't she? That fucking fox -

No, it's not my normal, Ella Enchanted! [Wade quips with a flair of irritation because he's a little upset to be honest. Because this feels like a taunt by Thirteen. Giving him something that will definitely go away. But-- maybe he should enjoy it while it lasts?

Then the woman is talking again and Wade turns to look at her again as she's going through her own freak out. He stares as realization hits.] Peter?! What the shit?! [Wade moves closer, peering at her.] Damn. Don't take this the wrong way. But you make a hot ass woman. I mean, you were pretty good-looking before, but still. Kudos.

[ Peter snorts at the reference, as he does most of Wade's nonsense; he can definitely sense that there's discontent here, perhaps deeper than a simple trick by the fox should typically warrant. The question as to why should be pretty self-evident - Wade, sans scars? Or at least a face that wasn't scars, even if this wasn't Wade's face? The first option seems more likely, if Peter's going to be a nerd and use his critical thinking skills. ]

Yeah, it's me. No clue. Not sure if I woke up like this or what. [ Peter can't help but laugh, throwing up his hands in a guilty as charged motion. ] ...thanks? Not half bad yourself, stud. Got a whole GI Joe thing going on.

[ Peter wants to ask, but he knows he shouldn't. At least, not when it's immediately fresh. ] Could be worse, at least we're still in our own apartment. Fully switched bodies with this guy Bucky a while back, not a fun time.

I know. It's like I'm People Magazine's Sexiest Man alive... but from 2010. I've got a little wear and tear going on, but I still got it! [He grins, pushing past his melancholy quickly, as he so often does. All jokes and nonsense, as it should be.] And I was Canadian Special Forces, so you're not wrong about the GI Joe thing.

[He moves back to his pancakes, flipping the last one off the pan. Something to focus on while he reels internally over this development.] I've talked to Bucky. I don't think he likes me very much. [Big surprise.] But that might be because I flirt with Rogue non-stop.

[But who could blame him?]

2010? Voting on our flip phones, are we? [ The swing back to something lighter is familiar, and Peter wonders if maybe his coping-with-humor isn't that dissimilar to Wade's, if not just as transparent. ] I meant the buzz cut, but if you've got a whole smooth Ken-doll situation down there, blame the fox, not me.

[ Peter turns to the eggs, following Wade's lead; not inclined to stare at him when he's clearly processing it himself. He hadn't even noticed - though perhaps Wade's transition was a little less intrusive than Peter's, so, fair. ] Pff, sounds like it might be justified. Just be careful of that metal arm - packs a punch.

[ Don't ask him how he knows. ~~He punched himself in the face with it by accident.~~ Peter starts cracking eggs into the bowl, having to reach up to push the excess hair out of his face once again. ] I woke up spooning her and he didn't kill me, so I think you're not doing too bad?

Yes. And data rates may apply. [He nods sagely. But the comment about Ken-dolls makes him pause, and he looks down and then, well-- this is your fault Peter, he tugs his boxers to have a peak at what's under the hood.] Nope, still there.

[And just as unscarred as the rest of him. His boxer elastic snaps against skin as he releases it, returning to the pancakes and taking them to the kitchen table.]

Not my first time pissing off a grouchy man with a metal arm. I think I'll be alright. [The threat of violence has never been a deterrent for Wade, anyway. If anything, it only makes him want to do whatever it is more.] You were spooning, Rogue!? What? When was this?!? Tell me everything.

[ Peter just snorts to himself and shakes his head, setting aside eggshells as he cracks them into the mixing bowl. He's never really had other guys to hang out with - living with his elderly aunt, and Harry being so...particular, sometimes Wade just being Wade throws him for a moderate loop. ] That makes one of us.

Oh? You know a lot of cyborgs, back home? [ Peter cracks eight eggs, pauses, and then continues to crack four more to make an even twelve. What? One of the great things about Folkmore is that he's actually able to eat as much as his metabolism needs; and Wade never ceases to have an appetite, either. Good thing food is bought with running your mouth; Peter's pretty sure Wade's a gazillionaire by now. ] Uh, like...two months ago? Guess a restaurant in town didn't pass inspection because a bunch of weird shit started happening to anyone who'd eaten there.

So yeah, I woke up, not myself. [ Peter places the last shell back in the egg carton, moving to toss it in the garbage. Are his cheeks a little pink? Maybe. Turns out he's an easy blusher either form. ] She was - you know. There, uh, also. She was really nice about it.

[ It's amazing he ever had a girlfriend. ]

One, at least. Cable. He was a grumpy time traveler. Absolutely obsessed with chapstick and fanny packs. Hated dubstep. Also, another guy who can turn entirely into metal. Colossus. Great ass.

[Wade moves to pour more battle to cook up a few more pancakes to go with the impressive stack he's already made.] I'm sorry I missed that. That sounds like fun. Although I'd feel sorry for whatever unfortunate fuck landed in my body.

[Cause, come on, who wants that?]

Oh. [Wade turns to look at Peter, and that blush isn't missed.] Heh. Did someone have a bit of morning wood, Pete...?

Sometimes I can't tell if you're fucking with me. [ Peter can't help his chuckle, which is really more of a giggle, oh sweet lord. ] Is it rude to say that dubstep feels like the song of the cyborg people? That's probably specist. Is that specist?

I have a feeling it'll happen again. Or something like it, anyway. [ Peter gestures to their persons, the changes Thirteen seems to see fit to shower them with so consistently. ] Aw come on, Wade. You're - you know, built!

[ Peter nudges Wade's arm, poking at the muscle with one finger before he moves to grab a fork from the drawer, and start whipping the eggs. ]

It wasn't my morning wood, that was the whole problem! [ Yeah yeah, he's a little red, but it's fine! Rogue and Bucky weren't offended, he managed to get out of it with minimal embarrassment (which is honestly something of a record for him.) ]

Part of my charm? [He grins, waggling his eyebrows-- that he's actually got at the moment.] Well, either way, this cyborg did not enjoy the song of his people. Or he just lives to be a grumpy fuck. But... also good guy. Beat my ass, stabbed, and shot me a whole bunch, but we really bonded after that.

[After murdering a bunch of pedophiles. Which he's not bringing up to Peter. Mentions of Wade's murderhobo tendencies do not spark joy in this apartment with Petey-Boy so he's less prone to go on about it.

He blinks at the nudge, turning to look at Peter. His expression is dubious.] Built, right. Built like a gym bro that took a dive into boiling oil on a dare. Who's into that? Are you?

[Not that he, you know, cares if you are or anything... ~~HE CARES TOO MUCH~~]

Ha! I mean, sure, sure, consent, etc., [He waves dismissively.] Whatever-- but that's still objectively hilarious!

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Folkmore IC Inbox

action | trial 21 | and they were roommates

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crawling my way back to the land of the living lmao

hard same lol. this caps the end of my tag bomb !!

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cw: bracket mention of pedophilia