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"What's your name?"

Deadpool raises a hidden eyebrow at you. He had been waiting in line to pick up a couple tacos (okay, like ten) from the stand outside of your building when you had come through the large double doors and (surprising the shit out of him) decided to stop to chat for a bit. He figured since you were a decent human being he would walk with you to carry on the conversation, however long it may last.

[Oh please.]

{Yeah, the fact that she's smokin' has nothin' to do with it.}

Deadpool ignores the boxes and focuses on a reply. "You forget already, sweetheart?"

You elbow him gently in his ribs and he let out a startled sound somewhere between a laugh and a grunt at being taken by surprise. "No. I mean your real name." You look up at him mischievously. "Or is it one of those 'I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you' things?" You ask, putting on what Deadpool suspects is your best macho voice. It was garbage.

A smirk tugs at his mouth. "That depends on who you ask," he replies smartly.

You peer up at him again, curious, and Deadpool wonders if you know how you look when you send glances up at him from under your eyelashes like that. "How do you mean?"

"Well, if you asked my third grade teacher, Mrs. Irwin, it's 'that brat'. If you ask my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Kaymore, it's 'you little shit'. Et cetra, et cetra… Some people call me Wade, though. Among other things."

You let out a bark of laughter and he stands a little straighter, pleased. "Well, it's nice to get to know the man behind the mask a little," you offer, scrunching your nose up cutely. "I'm (your name)."

Wade hums softly in response, filing that information away in the back of his mind and the two of you continue on in silence, both attending to your own thoughts. After a moment, you let out a little huff of laughter and Wade tilts his head in interest. You give him an answer to his unasked question.

"You used to terrorize your teachers, I used to try making ghost friends with my brother's Ouija board."

A delighted smile pulls at the corner of Wade's mouth underneath his mask. "Ghosts make excellent friends," he agrees, nodding animatedly.

You gave him a cheeky grin in response, showing off your dimples. "We would have been great friends when we were kids," you say sagely, as though you were imparting some serious wisdom on his ass. "Freaks band together you know".

Wade's grin widens. He sure fucking hopes so.