"Multiples of Fun"

It took something dramatic to change a soulmark. Originally, they remained the same, but as society evolved, as people were able to travel further and the scope for soulmateship grew, as more wars started and ended, as more methods of killing were created… Well, it was possible for a major turning point in someone's life to change what the initial words from their soulmate would be.

But Brock was pretty damn sure no one's mark changed as often as his. It wasn't always linked to his work, which was dangerous and stress-inducing, and sometimes he felt sorry for his soulmate if this is what they were putting up with. Yet… a change was more commonly reported than a mark disappearing for a few hours, sometimes longer, before reappearing in the exact same writing.

What the hell was with his soulmate? Were they terminally ill? Did they just go into intense, death-like comas, or… or were they enhanced? He knew about strangeness; he worked for SHIELD, for God's sake. But someone who could die for more than a few minutes? At least twenty times that he'd counted, and there might've been times while he slept, or was in hospital.

When he joined HYDRA, his mark changed. Brock ignored what it said, and the many times after that. When he betrayed SHIELD the day of Project Insight, betrayed Captain America, he was sure he felt his soulmark change again.

It was some months later that he checked the words, just to see what it said. He tried not to think about what having the words on his right butt cheek indicated. At least he wasn't injured there when that Helicarrier ran him down. The serum, or whatever the hell they used on him, didn't clear up all the scars. He didn't care about that, and hoped his soulmate wouldn't, either.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," he muttered, his eyes quickly reversing the letters to read them: 'Well, fuck me, you're gorgeous. Let's go kill more bad guys! You with me? I'm gonna climb you like a tree later. Looks like you could totally hold me up against a wall, actually. Wanna test that theory?'

It was usually like that, some large block of writing that made Brock suspect his soulmate was not only a chatterbox, but also had endless lung capacity. Half the time the words had dark connotations, but this time… this time he was supposedly fighting the baddies.

"Well, fuck," he said. And apparently he was going to speak first. Better come up with something distinctive to say, then. Just 'Hello' wasn't gonna cut it.

Looked like he'd have to reform himself if he had any hope of meeting his soulmate after all these years. Decades of waiting. Brock clenched his fists and checked himself over. Seemed like his soulmate didn't scare easy, point in their favour, whoever it was.

Wade stretched his muscles as he approached the window. Since he bugged Tony Stark into letting him stay at the tower for awhile, just until the guys trying to kill Wade… you know… stopped trying to kill him, he'd been enjoying living the high life. Literally, considering how many storeys up he was. Kind of awe-inspiring. Besides, it was fun playing pranks on Barton, especially if he had Captain America's help, because there was a prank war going on, and while Barton and Banner made a formidable team, Wade and Steve held their own. He was hoping Romanov would join in, or form her own one-woman team, give them a real challenge.

New York City at night was a blaze of pinpricks of light. Wade would happily frequent the bars with some of his team-mates (not that the Avengers had included him in their big battles yet, but there hadn't been any since Wade came along), but since Stark had his own epic collection of booze and an endless supply of movies at his disposal, not to mention the best popcorn-making machine, there were even better reasons to stay in.

He… sort of hoped the death threats continued indefinitely. It was nice to have the company, even though the Avengers sometimes found his chatter annoying. Everyone did, so it's not like they were different in that respect.

And hey, it could be useful. The first time he met Pepper Potts, she'd come looking for Stark, who was in his workshop as usual, being all productive and skipping social interaction. Wade had chattered to her for a couple of minutes before Steve got there and clapped a hand over Wade's mouth. She stared at him for ten seconds.

"Come with me," she said, and she turned on her heel. He followed her to the elevator obediently, and once they got to the workshop level, JARVIS let them inside, where AC/DC was playing loudly. Pepper pointed at Stark, bent over some project or other, and said, "Talk his ears off until he quits work for the morning and comes to a meeting."

It worked. Wade perched on the bench beside Stark, telling him all about this crazy dream he'd had, which was actually true, in his defence. Three minutes in, Stark gave him a desperate look, noticed Pepper, and ran to her.

"Pepper! Just the CEO I wanted to see. Sorry, Deadpool, talk to you later. Or, you know, be talked to by you later. But duty calls."

Stark hurried into the elevator. Pepper smiled at Wade and gave him a discreet thumbs-up. Which not only gained him her approval, but JARVIS's as well. So yay for the AI being on his side! Yay, yay, yay…

After that, people started to use him as a way to annoy other people into doing whatever they should've been doing. If Darcy wasn't there, and her scientists needed to be watered, fed, and given sunlight, she'd call Wade and get him to shepherd them out, with threats from her to make him baby-sit again if they didn't take care of themselves. (It lasted for about a week before he had to be science-wrangler again, which was fun, and made him feel useful. And Darcy was awesome, so.)

At nights he would check the back of his lower leg, see whether his words had changed again. They did it a lot. Not as often as he died, and he sometimes wondered what his soulmate thought of all their changes. But it meant… a hell of a lot that Wade had a soulmate, someone out there who wouldn't find him irritating. Or would, but wouldn't hate him for it, or use him for his motor mouth. It was no fun being the Merc with a Mouth if his soulmate couldn't stand him because of it. Whether his soulmate was indecisive, bipolar or schizophrenic, or died as often as Wade (or had the most epic petite morts ever on a regular basis… mmm), he didn't care, as long as they wanted him.

'You're amazing.'

…That was it? His newest soulmark. They'd always been pretty short, at least not 'Hey' or 'Hi' or 'Yo', so he made up for it by talking incessantly if someone spoke to him, or even before they spoke, in case he drove the words right out of their head. Hadn't worked so far… obviously. But 'You're amazing' as his words? Would he finally find his soulmate, or would there be another change before that could happen?

Wade sighed.

"AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!"

He nearly jumped out of his skin when JARVIS made the announcement.

"O…kay," Wade said, blinking rapidly. "Good to know. Uh, do they need me?"

"Of course, sir. Why else would I broadcast the message to your quarters?"

"My… my quarters?" He looked around. "Thought this was just a guestroom."

"Until you leave, or move in permanently, they are to be referred to as your quarters."

"…So! Where's the battle, JARVIS? I can get there before the others, just say the word, I've got my teleporter, won't take long—"

JARVIS displayed a map, with live footage of the latest threat to New York City. (And really, if they wanted to be destructive, shouldn't they go somewhere there wasn't a superhero hub? If these were pissing contests… well, the bad guys kept losing, so they should've learnt their lesson. But whatever. More fun for Wade!)

He jumped into his costume, grabbed his Hermione bag, and zipped to the location. He was the only one at the fray so far, and decided to leave rescuing citizens to the more photogenic members of the team. Heck, people would probably think he was a baddie, never having seen him before. Besides, black and red weren't exactly the most comforting colours to a credulous public. Now, red and gold, or red, white, and blue…

Speaking of red. By the time the Avengers got there, Wade had dispatched about, uh, a quarter of the clone-thingies? Each katana dripped with blood, reminding him of why he chose red as the prominent colour for his uniform, and he ran to Steve for instructions.

"What d'you want me to do next, captain?" he asked. "I'm ready, not tired yet, I could do this all day. Well, except for breaks for snacks, because chimichangas—"

"Problem," Steve said, looking over Wade's shoulder. "That guy over there? With the shirt with two crossed bones? He's HYDRA, one of the men who betrayed me when SHIELD fell. Could you…?"

"Deal with him? Absolutely! Be back soon, Cap!"

Wade sped off, chopping off a few heads right and left, until he reached the crossed bones guy. And… he realised the man was actually protecting citizens. His eyes were ever-moving, sometimes flitting over Wade and the Avengers, and every so often he shot the closest threat. Wade realised he was just staring when the guy shot a clone to his left, which meant it was time to snap back into action. He had an odd compulsion to show off, and swiftly took out ten more clones before reaching the crowd.

"You're amazing," crossed bones guy said, raising an eyebrow. Wade skidded to a halt, gaping, trying to find words, and whoa, had it ever been this hard before?

"Well, fuck me, you're gorgeous," he settled on, even though he didn't usually swear like that, and especially not in front of children. But this was potentially an important moment in his life; allowances had to be made, okay? "Let's go kill more bad guys! You with me? I'm gonna climb you like a tree later. Looks like you could totally hold me up against a wall, actually." Yep. Totally worth ogling. "Wanna test that theory?"

"…You're my soulmate?"

"It is you? Hells yeah, girlfriend! I think these folks will still be safe if we're over here, don't you? Can't get much done from back here."

"You were sent to deal with me, weren't you?"

"…Yeah, but you're my soulmate. I'm not lettin' anyone hurt you, babe."

He shook his head. "Not heading out there until I know Rogers won't kill me on sight."

"Okay," Wade said. "I'll be back to give you the all clear when we're done." He wagged his eyebrows as he looked Brock over. "And you can give me the all clear later."

Brock blushed, which was awesome.

Wade waded (ha!) through the bodies to Steve, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Good work, Deadpool," the captain said, still concentrating on his StarkPad. "If you join us on a regular basis, you should have a less… threatening pseudonym, something to think about."

"That's great, Cap—"

"And did you take out Rumlow?"

"…Who?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "The man I asked you to—"

"Oh! The one with the skeleton shirt?"

"Yes."

"No."

"…No?"

"Turns out he's my soulmate. And he was fighting on our side. Protecting civilians and everything. Obviously I wanna be one of the good guys, and since he's my soulmate… Steve, you've gone kinda pale. I can see that, and I'm looking through black mesh."

"I'm… I'm okay."

"Sure?"

"Brock Rumlow is your soulmate? Shit."

"Cute, actually. And that's his name? Awesome name. Anyway! He said he wasn't coming out until he knew you weren't gonna kill him on sight. His words. Please, please, please? Pretty please, Steve? Can I keep my soulmate? Can I, can I?"

Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I need to talk with him."

"Not a séance kind of talk?"

"No."

"So he's safe to come here?"

"Yes, Deadpool. He's safe."

Wade ran off, much more cheerfully this time, and ran smack bang into his soulmate, who was accepting thanks from one of the women he'd been protecting.

"You're welcome," Brock said, and Wade managed to pull him aside. "Verdict?"

"He wants to talk with you, and not post-mortem, so you're safe! You know, for now."

"Encouraging," Brock said, scratching the back of his head. "Okay. I'm coming."

"Hopefully inside me, later. I know where my soulmark is."

Brock cleared his throat, grabbed Wade's wrist, and led him out into the light.

"Ooh… is that a metaphor?"

"Is what a metaphor?"

"Talking to the author, sweetheart, you don't have to participate. Unless your head's been messed with as much as mine has. Did someone mess with your head? Because the number of times my soulmark has changed—"

"As many as mine?"

"Well, I kinda don't stay dead, and people find me annoying so I get killed a lot, but I'm so much fun to write that people keep bringing me back to life."

Brock stared at Wade. "Right. I should probably tell you that—"

"You're HYDRA?"

"Were HYDRA."

"Past tense? Great! Because I hate being experimented on. It isn't all that fun, trust me, I've had so many procedures I make Michael Jackson look like a plastic surgery virgin. Speaking of being a virgin, I may or may not have been saving the home run for you—"

Best plan for getting a kiss. Brock had Wade pressed against a… building, hopefully, and not Iron Man or War Machine, because talk about awkward, and… ooh, that was nice. Very nice. When Brock released him, Wade licked his lips, catching his breath.

"Later," Brock said slowly, "we're revisiting that idea of fucking you against a wall."

"Fuck."

"Damn right, babe. Say." He tipped his head. "What's your name?"

Oh yeah. That's something you should've mentioned earlier, Wade.

But you totally knew it was me. And my name's in the title and everything!

Wha… You're seriously hijacking my author's note? Go away, Deadpool!

You said—

I wasn't talking directly to you, sweetie! Just… No more interrupting author notes.

…Still gonna write more of me in future chapters?

Yes, because people love you. But go away.

Ooh, ooh, ooh! Can I do the thing?

What thing…? Fine.

*Wade clears his throat* Please review, everyone! How's that?

Very nice, Wade. Now go away.