Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, nor am I affiliated with them in any way. All characters (aside from Nev) are not of my creation, and I have no rights to them.

I keep nodding off. People are talking but I'm not listening.

Maybe you should be.

"They never listen to me," I mumble.

"That's because you're crazy. The only thing you offer is comic relief that, surprisingly, no one asks for. Also, I do it better," Tony says. The casual tone and lack of any actual emotion in his voice doesn't bother me today. It usually does. It doesn't now.

Maybe it should.

"Stop making suggestions that I don't like," I grumble back.

"Then make your own," Peter says, sounding exasperated. I stare at them. "Were you even listening?" I lean back and wait for someone to explain what I'm missing.

"Remember about, oh, twenty years ago, when there was that huge attack on..." Yeah, I want to listen to someone who wasn't even around for the greatest joke set ups in history. Internet memes that reference stuff in the 70s and 80s - pure comic gold - just sails right over his head. "...so he thought, to teach you some responsibility, YOU would be the one given the case. Naturally, well..."

"Naturally, we think you're the worst choice for this," Wolverine spits. I tilt my head at him.

"Yeah, well, I want the job. Give it to me, let me do it," I snap at him, standing, getting in his face.

This isn't a good idea, you only have half a friend in this room. And that's not the half coming through right now.

"Maybe I'll make them all halves." I wish I wouldn't do that. I need to stop.

"That's exactly why - you're not stable enough to care for yourself, you certainly couldn't-" I punch him. I punch Wolverine right in his stupid head with his stupid ugly hair.

Are you bitter or is it really just ugly as shit?

"No. Wolverine has God awful hair," I say. That makes one whole time I'm glad I can't stop myself. He swings back, he's faster than me, and his stupid hand-razors go right through my neck. I cough-

Is that your blood? Spraying from your mouth? Unless it's the hot sauce from last night it's probably your blood. You should be worried though if it is, in fact, the hot sauce. Mostly because it shouldn't be in your throat, but rather your intestines.

-and I can't even answer. Someone dislodges them from my trachea, and I try to suck in as much air as I can. I can feel my body mending itself. It's still something I feel. Or hear. It never just happens without me thinkng about it. I thought I'd be used to it by now. Nope. The door slams open, and my vision starts refocusing. A very aptly named Nick Fury has showed up and is looking at us with no hint of being amused. At all.

"Has anyone come up with a reason better than mine yet?" he asks. His voice is calm. He's scary when he's calm. Mostly because the opposite of his actions and his name start a weird OCD feeling. He's met with silence. Then Capatin I Don't Get It points at me.

"He said he wants the job. He said to let him do it."

Should we be arguing? You probably don't want this, it's probably something like cleaning the bathrooms.

"Do I want to know how that's related to explosions?" I ask disgustedly.

"See, he can't go 60 seconds without talking to himself," Captain What's That Mean says.

"I've managed to keep more control over transforming than he has over his mouth," Hulk says.

"ENOUGH."

Is Nick Fury standing up for you?

"I'm choosing him, because none of y'all came up with anything better than 'he talks a lot' which can be said for most of you," he says, eyeing Tony. Tony looks at his shoes. "Wade, with me." I hug the wall, trying to stay as far away from everyone as I can. As soon as I'm out of the room, Fury stops me, standing in my way, looking at me very seriously.

"You weren't paying any attention. But now would be a good time to start."

Or we could think of funny words like smorgasbord or snickersnee or your favourite, chimichanga.

"Shut up, trying to listen," I blurt. Fury looks at me like he's trying to be patient but losing the battle.

"Twenty years ago, during that massive explo-"

"The one caused by that weird experiment-exhausted lizard that everyone ended up calling Godzilla that I killed by unzipping its spine from its body? I'd like to point out that it wasn't Godzilla, because it didn't have any spikes on its back," I point out. "Also I was able to convince the homeless shelters to use the meat in their... food. Then all the hobos got sick, and the city smelled worse than-"

"Yes, that explosion," he says with that impatient tone coming through.

"The explosion caused by the living lizard god or the homeless vomit-bombs?"

"I found a young girl. She was 5. Now she's older and wants to work here at SHIELD. She's going to stay with you for the next few weeks to watch what you do and see if she actually likes this hero job," he says quickly.

"Can I consider us a couple?" I ask.

"You cannot," he says firmly.

"So I need to pretend she's my cousin, will do," I say holding my hand out to shake. He sighs and shakes my hand.

"Great. so if you'll just keep walking this way-"

"Walk like I have a stick so far up my ass even the world's best proctologist couldn't help me?" I taunt. No reaction. He leads me into a room, empty save for one other person standing at the window looking outside. Even turned slightly away from me I can tell she's pretty. Not gorgeous, not stupid sexy. Just pretty. Olive complexion, dead-leaf brown hair in a single thick braid down her back. Short, very short, an inch or two over 5 ft. Not skinny, not fat. And more expression in her eyes - her very grassy green eyes - than I see in some peoples' entire faces.

And there's your cousin!

"I don't know if I actually have any cousins."

"Try not to do that," Fury hisses at me. When she turns around she doesn't look terribly impressed with me. Actually she just looks like a puppy that's heard a weird noise and has this confused yet curious mix going on in its head. "Guinevere, this is Deadpool." I look at Fury. I don't want to do this. Changed my mind.

"Just remembered, goldfish is on fire, I'm busy for the next few weeks. Captain What's So Funny is available though," I say nervously. Guinevere lets out a breath.

"I don't like him," she says flatly. "He never gets my jokes." I look back at Fury, who looks very smug.

"Goldfish can take care of itself," I answer his unasked question. He nods.

"Did you match us up on our mutual dislike of Frisbee Shield?" she asks him.

Oh, that's good. Not as good as Captain Derogatory Stuff.

"Captain Derogatory Stuff offers more freedom than focusing on the shield but that's still good," I say. At least that sounded relevant. A smile ghosts over her lips.

"You have a job, too. You'll know when the job starts" he tells her with his hands on her shoulders. She looks back at him with a completely unexplainable expression. "If you have any of the troubles I suggested you might, call me."

"I'm not worried. And I'm not sure you should be either. You wouldn't be doing this if you didn't trust him," she says. He doesn't answer, looks away from her. She ducks her head, trying to catch his eyes again. "Right?"

"Just call me every morning, ok?" he says. She smiles, more with her eyes than her lips.

That's your cousin, remember?

"Yeah, cousin. Right. Window shopping is ok," I answer. Stop that. She looks at me.

"Did they feed you yet? It's late, y'know, about the time most start thinking of dinner," she says. She sounds happy. I don't get it. Is there something stuck on my mask I can't see? I run my hand over my face. Don't feel anything. "Too tired to get food?"

"No. Just surprised I didn't think of that. Usually it's my favourite thing. That and using Wolverine's car when he leaves his keys just laying around and returning it with "How did that get there?"s, but mostly eating," I keep looking at Fury like he's going to yell at me for saying something wrong.

"Go out, have a nice dinner. Talk. And please, Guinevere, call me in the morning so I know nothing's happened," Fury half pleads. She laughs a bit incredulously at him.

"Relax. We'll both be fine," she assures him. And she floats past me out the door, just expecting me to follow. And I do. "Don't let him intimidate you."

"Huh?"

"He's incredibly protective of me, don't let that scare you. I have some serious dirt on him that makes him drastically less scary," Guinevere says smugly. The security stops us at the door.

"Are you actually going with this guy on purpose, Guinevere?" one of them asks. She steps closer to me, and I take a step away. Not happening.

"Yes. Call up Nick Fury, up in his office, bother him and waste his time if you don't believe me," she says airily. Both men pale and step aside. I don't say anything, just get the door for her. It got dark fast. The single light hanging on the metal awning is all that lights this section of sidewalk. But the sky is clear and the moon is just full enough to light the path to the main street. Walking with her feels like I'm walking someone's puppy.

You've compared her to a puppy twice now.

"Yeah but she's all distracted and looking at everything like a puppy," I try to rationalise. In front of her. Within ear shot.

"I'm observant. Sometimes it comes in handy. Not usually, but sometimes," she tells me. When we hit the busy street, the crowded sidewalks, she steps closer to my side again. This time I just let her. Been a while since anyone's wanted to be less than a couple hundred feet from me.

Don't hold her hand or anything. Cousin? Eyepatch Fury?

"I'm not great at being social. Anticipate long awkward silences," she says suddenly. I rub my eyes through my mask. Yeah, I am actually tired. Cooped up all day in the stupid SHIELD quarters, now I'm suddenly having third thoughts about this.

"I'm usually pretty mouthy but that whole 'behave yourself' thing isn't something I really warmed up to. So I sorta just shut down," I answer. "I'll peg long awkward silences as a guarantee."

"I don't mind it," Guinevere continues. "I'm not terribly talkative, even with people I do know. A lot can be said without actually saying anything." I nod.

"I get that a lot. Dirty looks or people turning away from me or people sighing at me or, my favourite, me walking into a room and everyone shutting up." Why am I telling her all this?

"I don't think people deserve to be treated like that," she says as she jams her hands into her pockets. "Anyone, not you specifically." Ouch. "Well, you too."

Maybe she'll be nice.

"I'll still be mostly lonely," I shoot myself down.

"I'll do the best I can to be tolerable company," she says with a laugh to her voice. No more third thoughts. I'm back to being ok with this. "Where are we going? Are we just aimlessly drifting til we find a place that doesn't look creepy? It's cold. Not to make a fuss," Guinevere asks. I look around. I was actually heading home. I'd forgotten about eating. Little bit distracted.

"That place there at the corner? Looks a bit shady but I promise there's less to worry about there than there is at your average McDonald's" I assure her. She looks at it, sizing it up.

"Any port in a storm," she answers finally. We stop at the corner and my mind wanders off a bit.

Feelings? Nothing. Not scared? No, not trusting yet but not scared. She isn't like them. Nick Fury wouldn't raise a demon child. I didn't think he'd raise any children at all.

Her hand brushing mine wakes me up. The light's changed but I hadn't noticed. What I am noticing is that I do suddenly very much want to hold her hand. But I don't. I can't.