Wade

Okay so, I know what you're thinking.. Or maybe I have absolutely no idea what you're thinking. Well, anyway, I'd bet a hundr- No wait, I take that back. I'd bet five bucks that you're wondering how I know Natasha. She's the Black Widow. C'mon. You've never heard of her? Any other person in my universe would probably say, "Of course you haven't. She's a spy. It's her job to disappear and not exist." But I know better. I know that you're sitting there, on your laptop, or your family computer, or your smartphone, reading this fan fiction that some seventeen-year-old fangirl thought up. So I know that you know exactly who I am and exactly who Natasha Romanov (or Romanoff, whichever you prefer), A.K.A. Natalia Alianova Romanova, A.K.A. the Black Widow, is. Okay, maybe not exactly who we are, but you've at least heard of us. Most likely you've even seen a few movies or played a few video games that we're in, too..

Nobody ever believes me though. They just think I'm crazy. I'm not crazy. Mentally-unstable? Of course. But I'm not crazy. I mean, I'm right about all this comic book stuff, aren't I? ..You're really just reading a story about me right now, aren't you? Every aspect of my life has just been the product of some guy's imagination...

Hey, idiot. Widow's still staring at you.

Ohhh yeah. Heh. Forgot I had company over. She's taken a seat on the couch, and she's still staring at me, with a look on her face that is so full of confusion that it's almost... cute. At the same time, she's also very clearly agitated. For the first time ever, I feel somewhat grateful for those annoying voices. (I definitely don't wanna keep her waiting and piss her off anymore than she already is.) "Thanks," I accidentally say out loud.

No problem, bro.

"Umm. What?" She makes a face, her expression full of contempt. She yawns after a few minutes, unamused and wanting to go home already.

I fumble over my words, shaking my head and mumbling incoherently, causing her to sigh and roll her eyes. "I'm sorry. I- uhh ...wasn't talking to you..?" God, Wade. Could you sound any stupider? You're so stupid.

True dat!

….Really?

Sorry.

Meanwhile, Ms. Romanov is idly tapping her fingers on the couch. When I seem to be finished with my little fit, she looks up at me. "What's up with the mask?" She blinks, waiting for an answer. Did I not mention that I'm wearing my Deadpool mask right now?

"Yeah. I slept with it on," I say, shrugging my shoulders. I'm used to it having it on all the time now. It's pretty much my face since I don't let people see my actual one.

Her eyes wander around the room, analyzing the unimpressive contents. She's trying her hardest to avoid scrutinizing me, though her gaze unintentionally flickers back to me every now and then. Furrowing her brow, she blurts out another question, "You sleep with your mask on?"

"Yes I do." I state simply, too tired and lazy to elaborate. I let myself fall backwards onto the floor in front of her, putting my hands behind my head and crossing my legs. "On a different note, why are you here? I get that S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to keep tabs on me, but why'd Fury send you? Did he run out of less-important monkeys to do his bidding?"

This gets a slight, half-hearted laugh out of her. "Something like that."