IMPORTANT: this story is based on my fanart. It's completely family friendly, but I can't post it here. You'll get more out of this story if you pop round to AO3 (user: Act_Naturally) or Deviantart (user: agree-to-dissagree) to view it.

If the links don't work, google the user names, or remove the spaces from these:

deviantart agree-to-dissagree

archiveofourown works/15638781

Between one breath and the next, Thanos wiped out half the universe. But he didn't leave the rest untouched.

It's worse for the living. They remember. They wait – for answers, for fellow survivors, but not for help. Cities can't rely on their heroes. There's simply too much work for any individual, no matter how mighty. People must help themselves and each other just to keep society moving. They start picking up the pieces. They sorely miss every pair of hands that isn't there.

Deadpool sits on a high ledge watching the chaos. It's Taco Tuesday. It's time for patrol. Spiderman will arrive, they'll fuel up and get to work.

Any day now.

The voices in his head remind him that the tacos have gone cold. And that it's been Taco Tuesday for at least a month.

"He's a busy kid," Deadpool protests. "All those classes and an internship and fighting crime. Too busy to patrol with the old Wade Pool, but that's fine. As long as he's fine. He's just late, is all. He's never let me down."

Weasel would've scoffed at the sentiment. Deadpool will miss that arsehole. But it's easier, somehow, to watch friends turn to dust in your hands, than be left to wonder; to hope until you can't bear to give up.

Shaking hands crinkle a greasy bit of paper. "Come on, Spidey. Come on."