Chapter Text
{When the sun shine, we shine together...}
[Told you I’ll be here forever…]
Said I’ll always be your friend…
Deadpool was in a particularly good mood that night. He had an easy hit on one of his all-time favorite types of targets—a pedophile who had apparently been involved in a sex trafficking ring spanning three states.
{Took an oath, I’mma stick it out to the end…}
[Now it’s raining more than ever…]
Know that we’ll still have each other…
[YOU CAN STAND UNDER MY UMBRELLA...]
“You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…” he sang under his breath, spending a stray thought on what Spidey would look like dancing to that song. Maybe he could convince him to dance with him if they ever became friends.
{Yeah right, like he’d ever wanna be friends with you.}
“Hmph.” Deadpool had been trying to take on less jobs, or only take jobs to rough people up or deliver them elsewhere; of the jobs that did require killing, he only took ones for people he was sure were in the wrong.
[Like that’s good enough. Spidey would never kill.]
{Not even this guy? He’s a MONSTER.}
[Maybe so, but wouldn’t Spider-Man say he deserves a trial? If he is a monster, we can make sure he dies in jail. Wouldn’t that be just as good?]
“Alright, alright! Now’s not the time. I already took this hit, it can be my last one,” the merc finally responded with another huff.
He knew he should probably be a little more careful to keep quiet, but he didn’t particularly care if he was heard or not. He had already deactivated the button that would allow for Mr. Coldwell to call for his bodyguards, and the man’s family was away on vacation. He checked over his guns one last time before swinging over the ledge to crack open the window of the large penthouse suite.
Unfortunately for ol’ DP, it was raining pretty hard.
THWACK!
Deadpool’s gloves slipped from the sill and he managed to land hard on his back, knocking his breath from his lungs. Temporarily distracted and unable to breathe as he was, didn’t notice the figure approaching until he was already too close.
The man’s crowbar swung towards him. It took little effort for Deadpool to roll away while drawing his gun, but his lungs still weren’t working right. He finally got a full breath in, and it was disgustingly alpha, acidic and sour and very strong. He shouldn’t have been surprised—he was in this man’s bedroom, after all—but in the moment of his distraction the crowbar made impact with his leg. Not wanting to waste more time, the merc sent a bullet through the man’s head.
Standing and taking stock of the (relatively) clean master bedroom, he was surprised when his leg collapsed under him. Apparently, it had been broken by the crowbar in the small scuffle. The pain hadn’t even registered.
Damn. I was really looking forward to making this fucker suffer at least a little bit. He made sure his leg was in the right position while it finished healing (re-breaking it to heal right was always a bitch and a half) before checking that the man was, in fact, Mr. Coldwell.
{That’s what you get for being distracted during a hit!}
[It was YOUR fault we started singing!]
{It was raining more than ever, what was I supposed to do?}
Deadpool tested his leg. It would be a few minutes before he could do anything more than limp on it. Climbing back out the window might have been safer, but going through the house would be faster. He got no further than the hallway before he heard it.
“Daddy?” Aww, fuck. Wade’s head whipped around, landing on the small girl peeking her head out of the opposite door, probably no more than seven years old. “Who are you?”
“…Deadpool, at your service. Why aren’t you on vacation, sweetheart?”
The girl remained half hidden by the door, apparently still deciding whether to trust him or not. Wade was glad of the low light; it gave him the chance to roll his sleeves a little way up to reveal his scent glands. Hopefully, the smell of blood would be overpowered by the scent of calm omega.
{Good thing she can’t see your skin, or she would be running away so fast–}
[More like, good thing she can’t see the blood on your suit! Do you really think this is going to work!?]
Her head tilted to the side, looking comforted and a little curious. No surprise there; Deadpool knew he was the largest omega most people had ever seen. Although trifling compared to some of the other behaviors, people’s disbelieving stares were one of the reasons he made sure his suit was so well sealed.
The girl stepped slightly further out to answer him.
“Daddy sent Mommy on vacation, but not me. He said I was old enough he wanted to spend more time with me… but I don’t want to.” She said these last words softly, as if it was a confession. “He said he would visit me tonight.” Wade thought about her age, and the age of Mr. Coldwell’s supposed victims, and momentarily felt like throwing up.
[What the fuck what the FUCK WHAT THE –]
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” Wade’s words were more of a growl than he meant them to be.
The girl pushed open her door more, and he could suddenly see she was wearing jeans and a hoodie, even though it must have been around midnight, and she had a backpack on. The pattern on her face stayed still, and he suddenly realized that it was a bruise, not a shadow. “I’m going to run away.” Her jaw stuck into the air in defiance, but he could see it shaking.
He couldn’t help but look at her and see sixteen-year-old Wade.
{What do we do? What do we do what do we do what do we do–}
[What would Spider-Man do?]
Spider-Man! Wade thought quickly for a second, rolled down his sleeves, and held out a hand.
“What do you think about tacos, sweetheart?”