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whattheactualass · 6 years

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☺ ✖ – Providencia was a strange territory when compared to the other’s of the Roman Republic. The aristocrats still played part for the whole and held the most power on their island, but their senator that represented them was a woman. The backlash Fury, the Consul that had chosen her had received was terrifying- but had faded like a hush. Minds had swayed overnight. It then became a providence commonly talked about- whispers surrounding it but never being messed with. Providencia had it’s wars- it’s attempt to conquer and bring home goods, rarities and treasure, but it had never fallen. No one targeted their territory. They didn’t dare- something had always stopped them. Those outside of the city-state believed it to be the center of the gods’ favor. Their hiding place, their central playing ground. It was the only way to explain why it was so vastly different, why minds had swayed so quickly when a decision reached the city of Rome. Why this random island that appeared in the Mediterranean Sea held such a strange set up for their operations, but still lay under the Republic’s rule.

Wade had grinned when he’d first heard the whispers. He had always found humans to be clever- how their ‘stories’, mocked by some, could hold so much truth- but they’d always been strange to him. Weird, wishy-washy characters on the game board.

Strange, like the fact that he’d been the one to receive the most recent peace offering. The fact that they were receiving the peace offering from another territory headed by the senator Antonius Stark was weird enough. But Neena deciding that Wade should receive it was even stranger. Him. The God of War- all because she ‘had a good feeling about it’.

Wade, had given her a bemused look. Tried to remind her that this was an attempt at peace- one that he didn’t even understand- he wasn’t targeting any other providences, though the concept amused him and that he was the general known for heading wars. Enabling them and tearing down other nations. Neena didn’t know how strange it was- how ironic it would be- for him to receive this object of peace. No one knew his deity status outside of the other deities running around on providence- but she’d simply shrugged him off, told him she’d be recommending it to the others.

They’d followed her. They always had. A strange amount of luck that few knew the source of. Neena was a tool of the divine. The unknowing celestial conduit of this age. How many times had Wade witnessed- what was she going by now, Vanessa? - whispering in the woman’s ear? Too many, really.

The gift in question was a gladiator complete with gold and a ‘party to celebrate peace’ from Tony Stark- a disinterested looking aristocrat from a rich, rich family a couple providences over. He hadn’t been happy when he’d met the general. Wade hadn’t been rude- just blunt. Upfront. Confused. Tony had held a distrustful expression on his face, looking unsatisfied with the language that tumbled out of his mouth. Neena had said they needed to ‘work on that language’ and being more ‘diplomatic’, but Wade hadn’t asked for a slave to begin with. He wasn’t interested in slaves. He found the concept to be demeaning. Improper. He’d watched slaves act more noble- more worthy of the gods than even the highest aristocrat.

He didn’t want this gladiator as a slave- even if he had been an apparent believer in the God of War. Emphasis on believer- Wade would guess he devoted. It was evident by the crippling amount of scars, ridiculous body mass, and greying hair. It was rare to meet a gladiator that had even one grey hair- not one that had a full head of it- and Wade tried to remember the last time he’d heard a prayer in his name. He suddenly realized he’d stopped paying attention to the individuals once they’d started dwindling, merely tossed good fortune in the way of those who took their time to worship. Needless to say, he had Wade’s attention quickly- and if his short-attention span remembered right, he’s pretty sure he’d just pointed at ‘Nathan’ and asked, for clarification purposes, if he really “could do whatever the fuck" he wanted.

Stark hadn’t looked impressed. Neena had given him the look. Nathan had been taken away, lodged at Wade’s domus further away from the center of the city.

But he’d buzzed around Wade’s head all night, even as the general bustled around the party, rubbing elbows and making those from the neighboring nation laugh. They were key players- other generals and world leaders that he needed for his next plan. For his next game. And they always fell so easily, settling in line and ready to move forward. Wade tried not to cheat, not using anything to sway their minds. He simply used charm, well placed information and the weaknesses apparent in wandering glances and small frowns. Humans were so easy to read and it had started to get boring, really. After decades of playing the same sort of games.

So Wade had returned to his domus, knocked on the door and gotten a disgruntled ‘you don’t have to knock’ and found the man kneeling. Wade supposed it was strange, the way he disregarded the other’s skewed attempts to show respect- no doubt beaten into him by the arrogant prick that had scowled at Wade all night.

But Wade hadn’t expected Nate to take an interest so quick- to have the balls to push him up against a window after Wade had, nonchalantly, hinted at him being a God. It had been delivered as a joke, but a twinkle of truth in hazel eyes. The closest to a reveal he’d ever gotten.

Two arms trapping him against the window seal, mortal lips ghosting over his skin and sending goosebumps up the vessel’s skin.

Then I'd have no choice but to worship you. Maybe I’ve prayed to you already.

Nate had pulled away before he could respond. And Wade had grinned- something more authentic than the mask he’d wore for the past couple centuries. Reaching his eyes as they looked to the human in curiosity.

Who would ever corner a god? Wade didn’t know, but the answer was apparently Nathan.

His attention had shifted that night, even as they made their way down to the beach. Talked for hours- until Nathan stopped responding and the sun peaked over the horizon. Wade’s feet were buried in the sand, watching the sky twinge with hues of orange. Nathan had woken up in his bed the next morning. Wade left him to assume how he’d gotten there. And he’d yet to be separated from him since. Wade took him everywhere- interested in the fact that he listened to him chatter, took his words seriously and had the audacity to smirk, occasionally, and say something back. Wade had hated how he’d apologized after, voice strained as if he’d been forcing the words forward through his pride.

Today’s adventure had started no different from the rest, really, with Wade shoving the doors of the gladiator’s room open at the crack of dawn. He’d requested that Nate wear his good clothes- the ones they’d bought a few days prior maybe, Wade didn’t really keep up with the passing time unless necessary for a meeting with Neena and the two generals for their stupidly large armies. The two traveled more than Wade- settling on the outskirts of the republic with the intention of gaining more territory. Wade acted more-so as the last result- the one who was used to destroy the nations they wished to take over.

Stéphanos, ‘Steve’, laid to the North. While Coulson laid to the South. It was a planned meeting- nothing impromptu that would cover next steps and strategy. An update for the senate and requests, should there be any.

The looks Wade had received when he’d arrived with Nathan by his side would have led you to think Wade had committed adultery. Nate had protested, of course, but Wade had shrugged him off- much like he’d done with the two men and their heavy frowns.

It took an hour for them to warm up. To accept the fact that Nathan was just there and he wasn’t going anywhere after a couple pointed looks at Neena and a couple jabs at Wade. Wade had only given them a head tilt- a curious brow arch and a response that had nothing to do with the man on his right- but everything to do with ‘your toga seems a little tight today, is it riding up your ass, general?’.

Neena seemed strangely okay- unaffected by this turn of events.

So the talk continued, the glances at the man invading their ‘war room’ fading away as Coulson and Steve yammered away about their plan. Wade watched, taking in the board over the center piece. Taking in the counts, the current status of each man and their legions.

And then he starts talking- not to the two men, but to Nathan. A quiet yammer easily overtaken by the voices of the two generals who were hell bent on talking at the same time. Wade doesn’t necessarily need the feedback- but it’s sorting it out in his mind as he forces Nate closer- into his bubble with a gesture over the top. It’s the equivalent of talking to yourself- but Wade likes having someone there. Someone to listen.

He has his plan in five.

“Here’s what I got for ya,” it comes out nonchalant, but loud- the two generals shutting their mouths at the interruption to their discussion and Steve looks like he has something to say. But Neena is gesturing, waving her hand at the general with the potty mouth. It tumbles out- Wade gesturing to both a undeveloped nation towards the east, and one that’s up and coming, according to the words tangling in the grape vine. It’s a long walk for the two countering armies and a trek that would take a bit of resources. But Wade’s could come from the west, settle on the shore and not take a straight shot. It’s an area most providences don’t bother with, focusing rather on the slow expansion around the republic. But if they start here they can work their way back.

They’d need resources, permission from the republic in exchange for the resources- but Wade liked the odds- liked the ideal of creating one large circle of chaos when everything came crumbling down, eventually.

The other two don’t look happy, but they don’t necessarily disagree. Wade had yet to steer them wrong and having his army in the mix would almost guarantee a win.

So they agree. Finalize the plans and by the sixth hour they’re leaving- Wade the first out the door with a content sigh in his freedom. “Venus’ glorious ass I hate those two. So fucking pretentious.”

#AU: God Among Men #long post #sorry we're world building again #cablesummerss #catch the rome au you never wanted or needed but we're gonna give it to you #we're also gonna fuck with the roman state a lil b/c FUCK it's confusing

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whattheactualass · 6 years

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"Happy Thanksgiving, baby." Nate has been cooking the turkey all day, lurking around the kitchen to make sure Wade stays out of it. It's Canadian Thanksgiving but Nathan wanted to go all out for his baby. It's just the two of them, but Nathan's got lofty plans for all the leftovers.

☺ ✖ – Wade had mentioned Canadian Thanksgiving to Nate exactly once in a passing conversation. It had been a side comment on the date difference twisted with a short story about one instance where he’d mentioned it to a lady at Starbucks and how she’d tried to gently remind him that Thanksgiving was in November.

She was sweet. They’d talked it out. Wade had liked her.

Regardless, when Wade had tumbled out of bed, Nate was already in the kitchen. Something strange considering Nate was the one notorious for sleeping in. The merc had scratched at his neck, grabbed his phone off the nightstand. The screen lit up with 8:14. Wade’s nose wrinkled. Sometimes he managed to sleep in, but never longer than Nate. If Wade slept in, Nate tended to sleep in. If Wade got up, Nate tended to stick in bed until his scheduled wake up time.

It was just how it worked.

“Maximum effort,” it comes out off with a grunt as he pushes himself off the bed. He should start getting ready- dawning his Canadian jersey, comfy pants, and settle in for a nice, long day in front of the Television to watch the Thanksgiving Day Classic. And, maybe, if he asked nicely, a certain future-tech and livestream wizard could find him feed from the Kitchener-Waterloo Oktoberfest parade, since time zones were fucking stupid.

Maybe Nate would join him, too.

“Nate,” it comes out chipper, arms stretching above his head as he exits the bedroom in search of the man. The kitchen is his go-to - Nate almost always made breakfast, because Wade’s choice of twinkies and Unicorn Power Poptarts, apparently, wasn’t a ‘healthy option’.

There’s the sound of pots, knives on cutting boards, and movement in the kitchen and Wade makes a beeline for the doorway, fully intending to wrap lanky arms around Nate and ask why, exactly, he decided to break his schedule.

“Hey. Priscilla. Listen I know you’re cookin’ and shit but do you wanna wat-”

Nate meets him at the archway, ‘May I suggest the sausage?’ apron and all and Wade, after his brief moment of surprise moves to finish the sentence. It gets cut off when two strong hands are gripping his waist, twisting him around, and gently pushing him forward a couple steps.

The TV flicks on- the sweet voice of Rosie Del Campo ringing out her Thanksgiving greetings in their humble living room.

“What in the strong-jawed name of Justin Trudeau-”

Wade gets a grunt, a light one that signifies he won’t really be getting an answer as Nate turns back to the kitchen. Wade can tell he’s focused by the lack of verbal responses and the set to his shoulders.

Wade’s eyes follow him as he disappears into the kitchen, brow furrowing and mouth open. He starts giving a ‘What the actual fuck, Nate’, but trails off at the sound of the Fergus Pipe Band, eyes shifting back to the TV screen.

It’s all he needs to find himself settled down on the couch, an itch at the back of his mind reminding him he still needed to get dressed for the occasion- but he figures he can do that after the parade.

The day was otherwise uneventful. Wade ends up dressed, yammering about the parade and the upcoming games which he mostly watches for the sake of celebration. His stomach rumbles at the smells slowly filling their apartment, but every fucking time he gets up to go get a snack, Nate’s meeting him halfway, shoving shit into his arms and keeping him out of the kitchen.

At one point he joins him, settling down on the couch with a heavy T.O. arm draping across the back of the couch. Wade’s attention moves to him promptly, but any questions he has are cut off as Nate starts commenting on the game. Wade finds himself leaning into the man’s side, attention deterred as his body shifts so his legs are on the couch, toes wiggling into the place between the arm and the cushion.

Nate supports his weight easily. He looks tired- obviously. He’d been in the kitchen for fucking ever already- but Wade can see some sort of light. A sense of pride, maybe?

It makes his heart happy.

Nate leaves with a kiss to the side of Wade’s bald head and a soft “I’ll be back, baby.” as some timer scatters their time with it’s shrill beeping from the serving hatch.

Wade doesn’t question it. Nate steadily becoming more present in the living room until about three, where he’s gone for a whole hour. Wade’s finally beckoned to the kitchen.

“Fucking christ on a cracker it’s about da-” he cuts off, mouth open before it clamps shut. He blinks once, twice, then three times at the ridiculous spread.

“Happy Thanksgiving, baby.” It comes out in that gentle rumble, pulling Wade’s gaze back to the man. There’s that small uptick to his mouth that has Wade’s heart melting.

It made sense, of course it did, but somehow it still didn’t.

Nate, a futuristic American, he could only assume, spent all fucking day in the kitchen for Wade’s stupid, lovesick, and blessed ass.

The grin that spreads across his face could light up New York, eyes crinkled at the edges as he covers the space with quick, long strides. Long arms curl around Nate, lips smacking against his in a kiss that, while short, speaks thousands of words.

There’s a huff of breath against it, Nate’s signature ‘I’m too tough to laugh’ amusement that has Wade pulling back. Nate looks pleased, brown eyes crinkled just the smallest bit, even though his lips are only upterned a centimeter.

“Ugh and you made pumpkin pie,” Wade lets out with a groan, lanky body draping against his time-traveler as his cheek plants to Nate’s shoulder. Limber hands wiggle down to Nate’s spandex covered ass to give it a squeeze.

“We might have to get creative. I’m kind of wanting you for desert, but we can’t let that fresh pie go to waste, right?”

There’s a vibration in Nate’s chest that tells Wade he’s amused, one well-placed joke away from a startled laugh, if Wade’s lucky. A heavy hand slides over his jersey-covered spine, soft lips pressing to his cheek.

“We can do whatever you want, baby.”

#// i'm not going to bother reading this for errors i hope it sounds okay #cablepool #//FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT YESTERDAY WAS CANADIAN THANKSGIVING AND I JUST SUCK AT DOING THINGS IN A TIMELY MANNER #cablesummerss #*insert witty cablepool tag here | wip*#{ Scribble that shit out | Prompts and Drabbles }#asks

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