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"–I can leave if you want. Just, I figured you should...know."

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He hesitates very briefly —

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— and then he leans forward and kisses Z very gently on the burned corner of his mouth. 

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What?

What.

He stares at Marlo in quiet disbelief, like he just turned violently purple and he isn't quite sure yet whether it's a hallucination or not.

(He's also bright red, on the half of his face where that looks any different.)

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"I don't know how I'd be able to tell how long it's been. And I don't know what I'm doing. But I would like to try, if you would." 

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...oh.

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Oh. Okay.

That's...actually pretty great.

He darts forward and kisses Marlo right where Marlo kissed him, pulls back and grins.

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"–uh–I am also dating Asher– I don't know if that's a dealbreaker, or..."

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"...empirically we don't get along and I doubt that's going to change, but it isn't a dealbreaker for me if it isn't one for you." 

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He shakes his head.

"–yeah, no, it's not. I just didn't know, given, uh...1940s."

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"It'll be new to me," he says, careful. "But lots of things are new to me, and you're worth figuring it out for." 

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He makes an alarmed sort of squeaking noise.

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Z is very good. 

Marlo puts one hand on Z's cheek and pulls him forward and kisses him again, full on the mouth this time. 

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He forgets to even kiss back, for a second.

When he does, he can't stop smiling about it.

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Good. Z should always be smiling like that. 

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Now he's kissing his neck instead.

"Do you wanna...take your time about it?"

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"This is good," and his voice is a little shaky and his face looks as peaceful as Z has ever seen it. 

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Then he'll linger on Marlo's neck for a minute, and then pull up his shirt a little–

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"–never actually asked you if you were okay with this at all."

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"With what?" 

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He opens his mouth. Closes it.

 

"'Nobody dates Deadpool for the sexual gratification'."

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"...I'm fairly sure Asher doesn't believe that, you heard what he said to Sasha and you saw how he reacted afterwards. 

But even if Asher did mean it," and he reaches out and takes Z's burned hand, "I'm not Asher." 

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"...it's fucking gross, Cap."

His hand twitches a little before it closes on Marlo's.

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"Scars aren't disgusting. Not on you, not on anyone." 

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Scars are hot. This is fucked-up.”

(Whoever requested more insecurity from the audience: hey, fuck you, buddy. He totally could have saved this for after he made out with Captain America.)

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