Tony ignored the crazed man and his unconventional style in outfit and made his way over to the bar. He needed a stiff drink. Something to muddy the memory of today, because this was not the sort of day he had signed up for when he agreed to be part of the Avengers Initiative. Crazy seemed to have taken on a whole new meaning.

He couldn't even pour himself a drink before a shot of some creamy shit was pushed into his face. "What the—!"

"I present a blowjob. Because we could all use one," Wade explained happily, leaning over the other side of the bar with the shot glass still held close to Tony's face. "I swear it works miracles."

"I don't like being handed things."

Scarred cheeks twitched up in what might have supposed to have been a smile. "Suite yourself. More for me then." He tilted his head back and took the creamy shot in one go.

Tony cringed.

The idea of alcohol had just lost its appeal. The still empty whiskey glass in his hand was put down. "Well, this was nice. Let's not do it again," he said, eyes anywhere but on the man still leaning over the counter towards him.

Far too close and now smelling of something sweet.

It would have to be a sober night. Something he sadly had gotten used to after the transplant of the arc reactor. Frustrated and not at all in the mood to see anyone anymore, he moved towards the elevator. His penthouse had everything he needed, there was no point in him being down here, except for the small part of him that sought the company of others. His, so called, teammates. Flat mates. And currently, the only human interaction he got on a daily basis.

"JARVIS, lock the liquor cabinet," he called out to the AI as an afterthought. Wade Wilson was forlornly looking down into his shot glass, and Tony knew that look. Knew that if given the possibility the man would raid the cabinet. Drink until reality took on a new kind of meaning. "Don't wait up, Wade Wilson. The cuffs might be off, but the jail door is still locked."

He heard the man move behind him and his spin tightened with the urge to turn.

"This will be the third time you run from me today." The quiet voice sounded loud in the empty room. "I never took you as a coward. I guess I should have. It takes one to hide behind a tin outfit after all."

Tony gritted his teeth and glared over his shoulder. "First of all, it's not an outfit. Second of all, it's not made of tin. Do I need to go on?"

Wade just grinned victoriously. "Not at all," the man replied, turning and heading towards the large floor to ceiling windows that lined the common area. The man pressed close to the glass and stared down as far as he could see.

Tony sighed and rubbed his hand over his lightly bearded jaw, glancing back towards his escape route.

"Life on top of the world," Wade said and rapped his knuckles against the glass. "Classy as shit."

Rolling his eyes, Tony made his way over to the window as well, keeping as much distance between the two as possible. "Hardly on top of the world," he replied back, and after a while added, "I could build higher."

"Like a god dissatisfied with his throne. You must have so much in common with that god-man, Thorian, wasn't it?" Wade drew the words out, his hand still trailing over the glass in a way that made Tony cringe. Finger print smudges were a hell to clean out.

"Clearly you've already had more than enough to drink for one night. If you want to continue babbling, do so either to an empty room and spare us mortals from your insistent chatter, or I'd recommend JARVIS, his humorless personality would fit you perfectly."

Wade just chuckled like the maniac he was. The perfect opportunity for Tony to make his way back to the elevator. This time he was certain to make his escape.

"But there is something you wish me to babble about, ain't I right?"

Damn, the man had made him stop again. Any more manipulation like this and Tony would happily throw the man off his tower. He'd survive as well. That in itself was practically begging Tony to do it; see how long it would take the man to reassemble himself well enough again to become this annoying.

"And would you talk about it?" Tony asked, refusing to turn around.

"Hmm, I'm sure a man like you can convince me."

"Right," Tony drawled and felt his jaw tick. "The thing you mentioned to Steve Rogers and the Director. If pretty is all you want, then go get plastic surgery like the fucking rest of the world."

"Please, if that was all, I knew you wouldn't be able to give it to me." The smugness in Wade's voice surprised Tony and he glanced over his shoulder, taking in the way the man was leaning casually against the glass window, arms crossed and dark eyes trained on him. "You see, a little birdy told me you haven't been able to complete it. Been running into set back after set back."

A security breach!

"And this little birdy would be?"

"Ah ah, weapons maker. I know how you work. You might have stopped massing producing—might not even kill yourself, but you'll find away to eliminate all who so much as try to snoop around. Thing is, I like my little spy."

Humphing, Tony felt himself zone out, his mind already processing through all possible scenarios that could have caused such a breach. "It matters little. I'll find who it is."

Wade just waved away his promise. "Go ahead, try. But other than full on restoration of my glorious self, what I want right now is something far more simple and a hell of a lot more tangible."

Tony's alarms were going off. The shark like smile on the scarred face before him was something he had seen far too often: a game was being turned on him. One day he had known this infuriating man, and in that time, he had done everything to push every single one of Tony's buttons. He was everything Tony hated about humans, everything that made Tony built higher and further away from.

"And what do you want, Wade Wilson? Fame? Money? Don't bore me."

Wade just laughed and stepped away from the window, spreading his arms. "It's simple enough. I want a room."

Tony's brain stopped processing for one microsecond. All channels going quiet. "What?" he hissed and turned sharply.

"One room in your tower, and of course, the right to fight as an Avenger. And I'm not talking trainee shit here. The contract and the whole shebang. You give me that, and I promise, I'll take you to that space junk."

He was being played, of that Tony was certain. Wade Wilson had yet to show any signs of actually knowing where the IDP was. The problem with letting him sign an Avenger's contract was that it would be far too binging. Public kind of binding, and shit like that couldn't be undone with a snap of a finger.

Anger fueled Tony not to answer. He stalked his way to the elevator and was immensely pleased when JARVIS opened it for him without a word. The doors already closing as he sent one last look at where Wade still stood illuminated against the glass windows.

"Why don't you sleep on it," the man shouted just as the doors clanged shut.

Tony sighed heavily and slumped against the elevator wall, staring blankly at the smooth high-tech control panel that operated it.

"Sir, I am very disappointed in you," JARVIS voice broke into his thoughts causing him to groan and role his eyes at the camera.

"I cannot imagine why," he answered sarcastically.

"You think I am humorless," it said with a morose sort of voice. "I would like to let you know I am filled with all sorts of humor."

"Yeah, then why don't you tell some jokes to Dum-E, I'm sure he'd be over joyed."

"That is just rude, sir."

Tony just grinned into his fist, imagining Dum-E bobbing up and down happily as JARVIS tried telling joke after joke. He had to make sure to record it if it ever happened.

—V—V—

The next morning found Deadpool in the kitchen, humming happily to himself.

"Mr. Wilson, I would like to inform you that something is burning," JARVIS announced over his internal speakers, a hint of frustration in the AI's voice.

"Mm…" Deadpool hummed nonsensically at the AI and continued with his task before him, not at all giving a care in the world for whatever was troubling the AI. His hands were currently deep in a sugary batter that was far too sticky. "It's supposed to," he finally said, eyes laser focused on trying to unstick the substance from his leathery fingers.

"I am certain that this recipe does not call for the burning of any kind. I am switching off the oven."

The red, leather clad head shot up at that, white covered eyes narrowing in anger. "Don't you dare. I will find your circuitry and cut it."

"That would be impossible."

"Oh… Are you trying me?" he wondered, sticky hand coming down to land on his hip as he glared up at the ceiling. "Go on, try me. I'll make you eat those words. Oh, wait, you can't eat. I'll reprogram you to a California girl voice. We'll see how much you want to speak then, won't we."

"I do not see how my voice would make any difference," the AI answered a tint of confusion coloring its programmed voice.

Deadpool huffed and finally actually looked over at the oven. "Oh, goody. It's done." He skipped over and pulled it open, dragging out the hot pan with his hands, completely unbothered by the charred smell of leather entering into the mix of other smells currently permeating throughout the kitchen. "Mm mm. Delicious."

"It appears to be burning. Activating Fire Protocol: 21."

Deadpool had no more time than to register the words before a long hose like appearance shot out from around the microwave and dosed his home-made large sized muffin with liquid CO2.

"Hey! Just because you can't eat doesn't mean you can go and dose other people's perfectly made muffins."

"Based on pictures online, Mr. Wilson, the word perfectly made would not be something that could describe the monstrosity in which you have made," the AI argued.

Deadpool greatly disagreed with it. "Didn't your mother tell you not to trust everything you see online?"

"I am a highly advanced artificial being, Mr. Wilson. There is no need for me to be taught things such as that from a mother. Which I do not have to begin with."

Discarding the wet charred muffin on top of the counter, Deadpool stuck a still batter sticky finger into it and broke away the hard-crusted top to get at the sticky inside. Just the way he liked it. Lifting his mask just over his mouth he stuck the chunk in and hummed in appreciation.

"You know, for such an old guy, isn't your mother technically Tony Stark. Have you ever called him mommy?"

"From the moment I came to be, sir has always remained sir to me."

"Boring," Deadpool called out, continuing eating with one hand while the other held an automatic whip to the second bowl of batter that would go into the oven next. Ignoring the spray of small unmixed sugars and flour that were being sent flying all over the kitchen counter and floor. "Hey, next time, why don't you call him mommy; see how he reacts."

"That would be unwise," the AI said.

Curiosity caused Deadpool to stop eating and look over at the flour covered camera closest to him. "Why?"

"Unlike you, he does have the ability to reprogram me. He has also threatened me on numerous occasions with State College."

"Parents. They always think they know what's best. Mine thought that if they sold me off to enough people I'd get used to it, but what can you do? You still love 'em."

JARVIS beeped loudly, and the whine of a fan could be heard loud and clear over the mixer still going hard at it. "I—That is a most tragic past. It must have been difficult for you," JARVIS finally managed to get out after a few failed tries while his speakers seemed to have malfunctioned.

Tilting his head curiously, Deadpool stared over at the camera. "Yeah, real tragic. No worries though, when I was 15 they were killed by our rabid neighbor. God, that man was nuts. He believed aliens had infiltrated everyone around him and were trying to coerce information out of him." Hanging his head, he dropped the whirling mixer and made the cross before him, raising his head up towards the no longer white ceiling. "Rest in peace, little weird man."

"Most fascinating story," the AI commented, having lost its previous empathy. "What happened then?"

Deadpool turned the mixer off and poured whatever was left in the bowl over to a new oven pan. "Oh, I was sent to live with my uncle. Now that's a story," he whistled and shook his head as if he was recalling good memories.

"JARVIS, my man, turn the oven back on, we got a second."

"I must really advice you not to."

"Remember what I said earlier, advice is only for friends; other than that you're just preaching to the high heavens. Now, oven."

"Of course," JARVIS replied sullenly.

The oven whirled back on, the temperature stat rising like only that of a Stark tech could, back to its recommended level.