CHAPTER FOUR:
THE ONE FUCKING BED TROPE

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KETTI ALWAYS LIKED ROMANCE BOOKS AND HER FAVORITE TROPE WAS ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

Then she met fucking Deadpool and she never hated someone more in her life.

They weren't really enemies and the guy had plenty (she's not wrong, everyone hates me but not Ketti, she just doesn't know how to cope with the attraction yet) but she didn't like him by any fucking means.

So when Peter got a call from Gwen that she was sick, and didn't want to "harm Ketti by swinging her home" (in the literal sense, unfortunately, Peter's not a swinger) she stayed with Deadpool and Logan on their "sporadic trip to bumfuck who-cares-where" according to Dumbass when she asked about the location.

With Peter gone, Ketti could stretch out in the car but Deadpool, of fucking course, was hungry at nearly two in the morning and begged Logan for a full hour to please take them somewhere with a hot breakfast.

Ketti just wanted to stick her head out the window and get hit by a truck, but luck wasn't on her side, unfortunately.

They pulled into a Sheraton — because fucking no way Ketti was staying in a motel, who the fuck did they think she was? — and Ketti payed because they all knew Logan would be too intimidating and if Deadpool opened his mouth, they'd probably be kicked out.

Twenty-one minutes later, the three stood in the only room available.

King bed, not a suite, because that wasn't available and two of the three sighed in unison.

Deadpool just hopped onto the bed and lied in a starfish. "It's so comfortable," he said to the pair, pulling his legs up and placing a finger to the mouth of his mask. "Come join me?"

"Oh my god, Logan, can you please stick your claws in my eye sockets and kill me?"

"Sorry, kid," Logan glanced at her. "I don't do that kinda thing anymore."

"Oh, this is a convenient time to be retired."

Logan didn't respond, just sat himself down on a chair in the small table, and Ketti sat across from him.

Deadpool moved into a seated position.

"Kitten," he grabbed her attention, "if you sleep with me tonight, I'll be really good, I promise. I only like somnophilia if it's consensual."

"Fuck my life," she muttered, resting her head on her hand. "How do I keep getting into these situations?"

"I find that he's like a roach," Logan told her. "You keep trying to kill him or get rid of him and he keeps fucking coming back."

"Aren't you guys fucking?"

Logan grunted in response.

That didn't fucking answer anything.

(We are in fact, fucking, and have been since that first night in the Honda Odyssey. You know, the scene everyone has written fanfictions about? Yeah, we fucked then. A lot. It was intense. I still get off just thinking about it. Don't lie, you have, too. It was pitched to Disney. Blood and guts they can handle — but two queer superhero's? Hold onto your pearls, ladies.)

"You hungry?" Ketti asked Logan, both ignoring Deadpool who was scrolling through the television. "We can order pizza."

"I like pizza," Logan nodded.

"I think we don't even need ranch. I've got all the cream right here."

"Oh, Jesus—"

"—Oh, fucking Christ."

Logan and Ketti shared a disgusted grimace at Deadpool's behavior.

—

The pizza went down quicker than Ketti'd ever seen someone eat anything in her life.

Then came bed.

At four in the morning.

And fuck Ketti in the ass, (gladly, it's my favorite place to be) she did not want to sleep between Hot and Dumbass.

For two reasons.

1) Logan was too fucking hot and the odds of her having a wet dream were fairly likely and the last thing she needed was to fucking moan.

2) Deadpool.

These reasons were great, but unfortunately, did not deter either man from putting a space between them for the girl to lie down.

"If either of you touch me—"

"—We'll never do anything without consent," Deadpool assured, his voice more gentle than she'd ever heard it. "But I literally cannot wait until you do."

"Get rest, Kitten."

Ketti tried to ignore the rumble in Logan's voice as he spoke Deadpool's nickname for her. Somehow, it didn't make her want to blast her brains out, and it was doing the opposite effect.

Fuck.

Remember reason number one.

Do.
Not.
Moan.
In.
Your.
Sleep.
Ketti.

(I love sleeping Ketti. She is so responsive and when she wakes up around my cock, moaning and begging for more, it's fucking heaven.)

Ketti fell asleep within ten minutes. The bed was too comfortable. The air was too cool. The men next to her — despite her wanting to hit Deadpool — made her feel safer than anywhere else on the planet.

And Jesus fucking Christ, Logan smelled good.

Like fucking pine and cigars. Like a fucking trip to Colorado in the middle of fucking winter.

Deadpool smelled like cheap cologne and spandex, and a little blood, but she found it comforting.

And she'd never fucking admit that to anyone.

(She loves cuddling me.)

Logan looked to Wade after Ketti fell asleep. Wade lifted his mask above his head, meeting Logan's eyes.

Logan nodded down to the smaller, sleeping woman between them. Wade nodded.

They were in fucking agreement.

Ketti Kipps didn't know it yet, but she was already theirs.

—

Ketti awoke to Wade Wilson's face inches from hers. He was asleep.

She'd never seen his face before.

She wondered how much of him was Deadpool and how much of him was Wade.

He was covered in scars and burns, eyes closed, face peaceful.

He was fucking quiet.

Ketti didn't even care about how strange looking he appeared because she could hear herself fucking think for once.

And she thought about how fucking close her body was to his now that Logan was fucking asleep behind her.

Her eyes glanced down.

That.
Was.
His.
Fucking.
Arm.

Logan's arm — the arm that she fucking loves to look at — was around her waist, holding her against his incredibly defined chest.

By, god, how could one man exist like that?

And Wade's hand, she noted with a small smile — because it was cute despite how much she wanted to deck him — was intertwined with Logan's their fingers connected loosely in sleep.

Around her.

She suddenly felt very small.

And awkward.

They were definitely a thing.

She was not part of their thing, whatever the thing was.

And now she was between them.

Ketti watched Wade's face in sleep and the small sigh that seemed to leave his nose, the tug of his thin eyebrows.

He frowned in his sleep, eyebrows tugging again.

Was he okay?

She watched his muscles tense and he squeezed Logan's hand a bit.

Fucking tentatively, because god she did not need them to wake up, she slowly placed her hand on his face.

And gently, ever so fucking lightly, traced his skin.

It felt...weird.

He was definitely disfigured and it felt like touching a bunch of scars over and over again, but she didn't think it was gross.

It's not like she was petting a fucking snake.

Fuck snakes. Ketti fucking hated snakes.

Wade softened a bit in his sleep, sighing again, and nuzzling into her hand a bit.

Ketti smiled softly.

He was kind of...

Fuck no.

Fuuuuuuuuck no. Fuck those thoughts. Fuck no. Fuck no. No.

Ketti tried to focus on anything else aside from the two men sandwiching her between them, but she couldn't.

She could only focus on how fucking good it felt to have Logan's arm around her and how fucking cute Wade was asleep like this.

Oh fucking fuck.

She was fucked.

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ahhhhh next chapter is more chaotic but I just really wanted something cute and i love a one bed trope hehehe hopefully this was okay??????