Authors note


I'm going camping this weekend, so here's an early chapter!


Matt was firmly convinced that Wade Winston Wilson, Alias Deadpool, could give anyone a headache given enough time spent with the man. He was a self proclaimed "Merc With a Mouth", and he lived up to that name. Which is to say, the man never shut up. Which was interesting, because he was a famous mercenary. Or 'infamous' as he'd corrected. Matts headache was steadily building into a migraine.

They'd somehow managed to evade the NYPD, which Matt would have been more impressed with, if he hadn't been distracted trying to figure out exactly how bad off the child in Deadpool's arms was. He'd suggested a hospital, but that idea had been shut down. He'd then tried to convince Deadpool that the kid needed some kind of medical attention, and had somehow been talked into following the man to his warehouse.

"Safe House." Deadpool insisted.

Matt thought that the mans borderline telepathic tendencies were infuriating. If it weren't for the promised safety for the children they had with them, he would never follow the man. Spider-Man, or 'Peter' as his suit had called him, was still passed out in Matts arms. His heartbeat was unnaturally slow, but that wasn't unusual for hypothermia.

What was unusual was how slow the other kid's heart beat was. If Matt hadn't been listening for it, he wouldn't have even known that it was still beating. His breathing was equally shallow and slow. If Deadpool wasn't being so possessive of the child, and if Matt hadn't already been carrying Peter, he would have insisted that the child be handed over so that Matt could get him some proper medical attention. For heaven's sake! If Matts senses weren't so enhanced, he'd have assumed the child to be dead!

"Here we are!" The change in the tone of Deadpools rapid fire word vomit caught Matts attention. "Well, su casa es mi casa!" Matt's nose wrinkled.

"That's backwards."

"Is it? Well, I've heard it both ways." the door made an absolutely horrendous screech. Matt cringed. "Hey, have you ever seen Psych? Man that was a good show. I wonder if I have the DVDs in this safehouse?"

"Do you ever oil your door hinges?" Matt asked. Deadpool's head tilted.

"I don't think so. I oil my guns. You know, proper care of weapons is super important. I once had a guy try to kill me with a rusty machete. You ever been stabbed with a rusty machete? That shit hurts, man." Matt did his best to tune Deadpool out again.

The smell of gunpowder and blood was thick in the air, and Matt followed a babbling Deadpool as he zigzaged his way across the large, open space. Deadpool paused next to what Matt assumed to be a couch.

"Sit anywhere you want." he said, before looping around and settling onto something large and fabric and filled with tiny beads. Oh, a bean bag chair. Of course. Matt set Peter on the side of the couch and leaned him against the arm before turning to Deadpool, who still hadn't stopped talking.

"Do you have blankets? Or a space heater?" Matt interrupted halfway through Deadpools spiel on Micheal Myers, and what a horrible serial killer he would be if he were real. By which Matt means Deadpool thinks the man is bad at killing. Deadpool pauses for less than a minute.

"Space heater, no. I think the blankets are in the hall closet. Oh, wait, no. this is a warehouse. Um. check under the couch?" Deadpool then started talking about all the things he's found under the couch. Matt resists the urge to take off the mask and pull his hair out. There are, however, two thin blankets under the couch. It's better than nothing.

After Matt finished wrapping Peter in the blankets, he turned back to face Deadpool. Though he couldn't see it, he knew the man was watching him. He still hadn't stopped talking, though Matt hadn't expected him to.

"I need to examine the kid." He stated bluntly. Deadpool went silent for a long moment. It was almost frightening.

"No." his voice was hard and unforgiving, and he only said that one word. Matt was shocked.

"Deadpool…" He started, hoping his tone was soothing.

"No." the man repeated. Matt grit his teeth.

"Deadpool! I can barely hear his heartbeat! He sounds like he's on the brink of death!" He snapped.

"You can't touch him! What if you hurt him more?!" Deadpool was starting to sound hysterical.

"I'm not going to hurt him!" Matt exclaimed, incredulous. "I just want to make sure he's okay!"

"He's fine! Back off!" Matt was about to respond, but a faint sound behind him caught his attention.

"Activating heater." A muffled, electronic voice announced. Ah, Peters spider suit was back online. Matt refocused on Deadpool, who was muttering to himself.

"Can't touch him. Probably thinks he can 'examine' the kid the same way those scientists did." a pause. "Of course he does. Who says 'examine' when they're talking about people? He's gonna hurt him." of course it was Matts own poor choice of words that set Deadpool off.

"Medical professionals examine people, Deadpool." He interrupted.

"Never met one that wasn't dirty. Back off, med boy." Deadpool's body heat had curled protectively around the comparatively cooler one of the child.

"I just want to see if he's alright." Matt tried to sooth. Deadpool snorted.

"Ha! 'See' he says. Fucker's blind, can't see shit." Deadpool went back to his muttered conversation with himself, and Matt sighed. If he thought he could do it without serious bodily harm he would have tried to check on the child anyway, but as it was, Deadpool was on edge, and likely to attack anyone or anything he thought might be a threat.

Matt flopped down on the couch next to Peter and sighed again. His head hurt. He'd started to fuss with the blankets wrapped around Peter while he tried to figure out what to do about the other kid, when he heard a familiar sound.

"What asshole?" Deadpool asked, seemingly to noone, as Matt swiveled his head to face the direction of the noise. "Oh, that asshole." Deadpool said as something glass on the ceiling shattered, and the sound of the Ironman suit echoed around the enclosed space.

Matt wished he'd stayed home.