The miles flew by to the sound of Led Zepplin, Wade's sometimes off key singing, a little air guitar, and elaborate games of eye spy that lasted until the sun was coming up again and they were on the other side of Pennsylvania. By then, Wade was staring longingly at the blue signs that indicated Food and pointing at his belly making growly noises.

So they stopped at a greasy spoon, ordered an abundance of food, and got a few funny stares when Wade insisted on feeding Dean a few bites of everything he ordered, especially his banana, strawberry, chocolate chip pancakes topped with blueberry sauce and whipped cream. Even the waitress had trouble reading his order back on that one, and Dean just smiled.

It felt like forever ago when Deadpool suddenly showed up in the hunter's life, and for the life of him, Dean couldn't remember why he found the guy so annoying. He was just as belligerent, loud, and mouthy. The random singing and flirting-none of it bothered Dean now. In fact, he looked forward to hearing what the guy would say next.

He was comfortable around Wade. And it was obvious that the merc was comfortable around Dean. When they first started traveling together, he always wore his red and black costume, or at least had the mask in place. But now in this little diner, with strangers surrounding them drinking coffee and rattling newspapers, Wade was dressed in casual clothes, with the hood of his shirt down, with only a black ball cap to hide his features. If people stared at him, he didn't seem to notice or care. He only had eyes for Dean.

Wade was practically dying to pick up where they stopped, but all he did was eat his pancakes and talk about the squirrels that were running around the parking lot. Though he didn't really want to, he was keeping his distance a little from the hunter. For Dean, it had been a long, agonizing time since those couple days of excessive sexual tension. And though Wade had spent every minute with him, only leaving Medical to grab something out of the vending machines or harass the nosey agents in the hall, he hadn't made any attempts to touch the hunter, outside of poking his arm or nudging him as they walked. Or that one time when he first woke up and completely broke down.

The merc was many things, but not pushy. Okay, not pushy when it really mattered. He would wait for Dean to come back around, even if it meant that he never did. Though that thought made his smile falter a little, Wade accepted that possibility. Right now, Dean needed a friend, and maybe he wasn't the best friend anyone could ask for, he could do the job. Judging by Dean's easy laughter, he was doing alright.

After breakfast, they made a little jaunt on a back road to get to Interstate 70, which would take them all the way to Kansas. They would go through St. Louis and Kansas City, then take a little jog north to make it to Lebanon.

They made it to the other side of Indianapolis before Dean decided it was time to find a hotel and crash for the night. He'd been going a solid 24-hours, and his eyes were grainy and body tight from driving so long. Though Dean offered, Wade didn't want to drive. Driving involved focusing on the road and avoiding cars. And focusing was just not something he was good at. Ever. So they found an Econolodge, got a room with two queen beds, and moved in for the night.

The first order of business was taking a shower. Despite how sexy people seemed to think a hospital sponge bath was, it really wasn't. The sponges were rough and cold, the nurses were impersonal, and it wasn't very cleansing. Dean was ready to get cleaned up, have a shave, and get between semi-clean sheets.

Wade plopped onto the bed closest to the window and started flipping channels. It was Saturday, which meant somewhere out there, Robot Chicken and Anime were waiting to be enjoyed. So Dean took his time in the shower, scrubbing his hair and stubbled face, letting his nose fill with the scent of motel soap and steam. When he stepped out of the bathroom to the main room, Wade had stripped down to his boxers and had a bundle of clothes under his arm.

While the merc showered, Dean started to shave. He never really liked being scruffy; it made his face itch. He lathered on a good layer of shaving cream and started slowly removing the growth, listening to Wade sing a medley of Patsy Cline ("Walking After Midnight" that morphed into "Crazy") that eventually switched to "In the Ghetto".

Dean laughed, and his hand slipped, and dark blood bloomed out of the cut on his cheek.

Suddenly, Dean couldn't breathe. His hands were shaking so much he dropped the razor. His vision went blurry, and in his mind he was being sucked back into that bubble of Hell. He could smell the incense and blood, mixed with Vetis' fetid breath. His whole body shook, and he felt bile rising in his throat.

Then his nose was filled with the scent of cinnamon and mint. Big, strong hands rubbed circles against his jaw. A deep, soft voice saying, "Come back, Chester. You're not there. You're here. I got you. I got you."

Dean blinked, his eyes finally focusing on the merc's face.

"There you are," Wade said with a flicker of a smile. The merc's chest was smeared with slowly drying soap, water beaded in the ripples and divots of his scarred skin. Dean took a deep breath, and felt like everything was falling apart. Couldn't see his own blood without spiraling out. Just like when he was a kid after his first hunt. John had been hurt, not badly, but it could have been bad. Dean woke in a nightmare, screaming and crying, and John slapped his face. Told him to man up, but he couldn't. Not immediately. So he lay on the floor with blood coming out of his nose, hugging himself because there was no one else to do it for him.

"Your dad was a dick," Wade said as he dabbed the shaving cream away from Dean's face, and Dean realized that he'd been speaking his thoughts out loud. "You were a kid. And despite this whole demon thing you've got going? You're still human."

Dean looked at Wade, at the serious expression he wore as he cleaned the cut on Dean's cheek. Once upon a time, Dean would have shouted about John Winchester being a good man and doing what he had to do. But not now. Sam always saw through the shouting, saw the hurt and need that made Dean repeat it over and over, as if repetition would make John a good father. Dean took the beatings, took the shouting, took the nightmares, because he thought that's what it meant to be a good son.

John Winchester would probably be ashamed of Dean now. A demon, crying in a hotel with a naked mercenary cleaning his boo-boos. But considering the only time the guy ever said he was proud of him was while possessed by Azazel, Dean couldn't bring himself to care.

"You shouldn't care," Wade said, answering Dean's not so inner monologue. The merc smiled, and added, "I'll clean your boo-boos any time you need me too. But only special occasions will I do it naked."

Dean's face turned a little pink.

"You okay?" Wade asked softly.

Dean nodded. "Go finish your shower."

Wade went back in the bathroom, but left the door open, and finished in less than a minute. Dean had just enough time to pull on a t-shirt and sit down. Then he and the merc sat on Wade's bed with all the pillows from both beds and ate junk food they'd picked up at a gas station earlier, falling asleep sometime after 2am on top of the covers with wrappers and empty cans littering the space around them.

At some point in the night, they migrated under the blankets. Dean snuggled up against the merc, shamelessly enjoying the feeling of strong muscles enveloping him. If there were nightmares, he didn't remember. The only thing Dean remembered was feeling safe, falling asleep with the teleportation tracker in his hand.

They slept late the next morning, waking to the sound of the housekeeper pounding on the door. Dean got up with a groan, stepping around the crunched pop cans, and opened the door.

"It's past noon," the housekeeper grumbled. "And yours is the last room."

Dean nodded. "We'll be outta here in a few minutes."

"Honey!" Wade groaned from under the covers. "Come back to bed!"

The housekeeper gave Dean a knowing look, and said, "You have 30 minutes. If you're not out by then, I'm charging your card."

"We'll be out in five," Dean said, starting to close the door, as Wade shouted, "Ooooh! Quickie!"

Ten minutes later, they were in the Impala. It would have been five minutes, but Wade was taking his sweet time and doing his best to keep Dean from putting on pants. First, stealing Dean's bag. Then unzipping them like a ninja every time he walked past. Finally, Dean went into the bathroom and locked the door to finish dressing.

The rest of the ride home was easy going. They managed to miss rush hour in both St. Louis and Kansas City, and when Dean hit the Kansas flats, he opened up the engine and let Baby run. Wade lounged back with his arm draped across the seat, smiling into the warm wind that whipped through the windows. Dean kept looking at him, and every time their eyes accidentally met, they both laughed like a couple of dumb kids with a crush.

They got back to the bunker after midnight, rolling into the garage and lingering for a moment in the car because suddenly they both remembered that they liked to kiss each other.

Without words, they agreed that the Impala could be unpacked in the morning, and they raced to the door, pausing only to again kiss and touch. Despite only being about a week, Wade felt like it had been forever since he'd tasted the hunter's lips. And for Dean, it had been a damn long time. Part of him was nervous, because this was strange new territory, but those nerves were lost in the fog of sensation as Wade pinned him to the wall of the garage and trailed hot kisses down the hunter's neck, nipping and licking at the juncture of his shoulder.

Dean couldn't help smiling, because here there would be no interruptions. There would be no alarm clocks or brothers or missions or annoying asshole archers to interrupt them. It was just him and Wade, and… and…?

"Munchkins?" Dean gasped, his eyes finding a short person in a gumdrop hat standing on the opposite side of the catwalk.

Wade looked at him, confused until he followed Dean's line of sight and straightened up as another person in a pointed green hat appeared out of a door that he didn't remember seeing before. Then a skinny girl with short cropped ginger hair came out of the door along with a dark haired woman in a bomber jacket. The two human sized women were holding hands as they strolled out of the emerald world beyond.

The ginger's eyes got big and a wide grin spread her face as she squealed, "Dean!"

"Charlie?" Dean said, as she latched onto him. He looked at Wade, who was laughing.

Interruptions just seemed to be a part of life.

The End. For Now.