Caldo de Pollo for the Black Hearted Chapter 7, a x-men: the movie fanfic

Warnings: AU to the nth degree. Mashing X1, comics, and Origins into something weird.

Disclaimer: I do not own, and it is better that way. Because I don't want responsibility for it.

Notes: Hey, look! I'm not dead! I just feel like it. This looks like crap, but it's the best way I could figure out how to get some of the more important bits from LJ over here. A few for fun back story, but the last few are kinda important. Those're the bits that I thought had already been put up here.

Caldo de Pollo for the Black-Hearted
by Fairady

It takes the better part of a day to air out the house after the cake burns, and there's still a faint smell of smoke for days after that Rogue really hopes Wade won't ask about when he comes home.

Rogue had wanted some cake. No special occasion or reason, she'd just been craving it.

The cake mix box had made it seem so easy. Put ingredients in bowl, stir, bake. How much easier than that does it get? She doesn't know how it went wrong, but by the time she'd figured out something was wrong the cake was nothing more than smoking charcoal.

I took her ten minutes to get it out of the oven and to figure out she needed to toss it outside where it could smoke in peace. Plenty of time for the smoke to fill the rest of the house. And the smell-

That was it! She wasn't cooking anything ever again.

It's not until a week later that she figures out Wade had hooked the oven up to a couple of extra propane tanks to make it "cooler." Three days later she finds an almost expired box of brownie mix.

The trick to deflecting bullets is practice, lots and lots of practice, and maybe a good doctor or two.

Yes, he taught himself how to do this before he got that nifty little healing factor. Yes, he's still alive despite several very close mishaps. No, he has no intention of teaching this to Rogue.

Bright as the kid is, she doesn't really have the speed needed for it. Plus she kinda sucks with a sword. She's much better with a knife and her own fists though so it's not like it's that big of a loss.

Rogue thinks he's absolutely insane (More so than normal and she's not sure how that's possible either) but can, sadly, easily imagine him coming up with the idea to even do it. She's pretty sure it has more to do with male stupidity than anything else.

It's that combination of pride, ego, and desire to look cool that had led Cody to do many stupid things. All of which she has intimate first-hand recall of.

Cool: adjective; 1. Wade Wilson (see picture).

Rogue had been surprised to find a dictionary in Wade's house. A thesaurus? Sure, she could see him having one or two of those, but not a dictionary. Then she noticed that Deadpool had been written over Webster on the cover.

She isn't so surprised anymore when she realizes he's re-worded the whole book.

The cable had been out and he was having too bad of a hair day to risk going out. What else was guy to do but reinvent the English language?

Wade doesn't remember being as young as Rogue, no, seriously, he literally doesn't remember anything before the age of 22.

Research shows that changing laws kept the legal drinking age ping-ponging from 18 to 21 in different states throughout the country. The fact that Wade doesn't remember his early years isn't due to the fact that for four years he roamed from state to state getting as drunk as he possibly could before the law changed. Nor is the fact that the age suddenly went up after he'd been in a state for a while due to his love of picking up fights/riots/governor's-wives.

But it certainly didn't help.

The roses had been planted while he was gone, and he would've gotten rid of them himself if he hadn't seen the new and improved pots Rogue had made.

The skull pots were wrong in a way that made him want to hug and cuddle the girl and call her his cute little psycho Wadette. Doing that tended to get his fingers bit off though, so he settled for lining them up on the front porch so the whole neighborhood could see.

Making the pots had been tricky. She'd needed to look it up on Youtube again, and find the bone saw she remembered seeing in the basement and thought was a power tool.

It's a little disturbing how easy it was to make them after that, but not as much as admitting to herself that they actually look pretty nice.

Wade tackles her ignoring her screams and punches --which actually kind of hurt now that she's putting on muscle-- and grabs the remote saving them from the horror that is youthful ignorance and MTV, "I'm king of the remote!"

Until they started wrestling around in jello while wearing bikinis again, the Real World was not allowed to be watched in his house. Cribs was totally OK though. He'd once seen an episode about Tony Stark and the Playboy Bunnies had still been in the hot tub!

The Real World ban is unfair but strict. It sucks that she has to wait for him to go on a mission just to watch the episodes she's secretly Tivo'd.

She has no idea who Tony Stark is, but she remembers that episode of Cribs. Tony had answered the door shirtless and wet. She wonders if that had anything to do with the fact that it hasn't made it to re-runs yet.

The sheer number of complaints and protests that came out from that episode were among the largest MTV has ever seen. Apparently, airing an episode about an arms dealer was something worse than giving porn stars their own shows.

That particular episode of Cribs is being held in reserve for a rainy day when ratings get too low.

He was on to her little tricks, Rogue only became sweet and nice when she was about to ask him for something that was guaranteed to end in a massive firefight.

Last time it had been donuts. And, hey, that's something he could totally get behind. Crispy Cremes with sprinkles and jelly filling were truly the food of Gods! So, it's all big brown cow eyes and "Puhlease, Mistah Wade!" and the promise of donuts. And who'd think anything was wrong with that?

So off he went. Down to the Qwik Stop for a dozen boxes. How was he supposed to know Tuesday was the designated days for every single wannabe-gangster to hang out in the parking lot wearing their momma's jewelry and begging to be shot?

Seriously, that's something that should be printed up on fliers and distributed, because Deadpool would've gone out more on Tuesdays if he'd known.

It takes a full day for his eyes to fully heal --acid is a real bitch-- in that time he gets pretty good at tracking the brat down just by the sound of her laughter.

Watching Wade stub his big toe on every single thing in the house is the most entertaining thing she's seen since the cheese incident. The frilly bonnet and stickers help. She doesn't think he's noticed them yet though. So, she takes the opportunity to take as many pictures as she can before his eyes heal.

Wade once cut out his own eye (He doesn't remember why he did it, it'd just seemed like a good idea at the time). A new one had generated in under a minute. But that had been years back when everything still worked right.

The eye lasers are always cool, but, after that thing with the acid, using them hurts and makes everything look blurry for an hour afterward.

And there's also the fact that the lasers aren't quite as strong as they used to be. And the fact that the blurriness is sticking around longer each time. And his arms feel like they're on fire every now and then. And last time he got his hand hacked off it took over an hour for a new one to regenerate. Oh! And lately he's been leaving things behind when he teleports. Blood, guts, lungs, unimportant and minor organs....

He wonders if his HMO covers any of it.

The biggest difference he'd noticed in his life was that he now spent significantly less time bleeding out on the floor after missions.

The fact that he's still bleeding kinda worries him. It's probably old age finally catching up with him. That neat little ageless thing the Fur Twins had going just didn't take too well to him.

It's not so much of a problem with the kid around though. She's nice enough not to say anything as she sews those stubborn holes shut.