Fic: G-Men, Then and Now (Captain America/Deadpool, PG-13) (2/4)
Title: G-Men, Then and Now (2/4)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,035
Fandoms: Captain America: The First Avenger (and general Marvel Cinematic Universe)/Deadpool
Characters: Cap (Steve Rogers), Deadpool, Darcy Lewis (intern extraordinaire from Thor)
Warnings: None for this chapter, except maybe Deadpool being Deadpool.
A/N: This was written last August for this prompt on capkink (back when there was virtually no plot information about The Avengers yet), which is why one character appears the way he does. I'm just getting around to posting all of my fills for the various MCU kink memes to my journal this summer. Also, this fic places 616 Deadpool within the MCU rather than combining the two canons.
Summary: Steve makes yet another new friend in this confusing future.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing in this wonderful sandbox.
Steve managed to avoid Wilson (or Deadpool or whatever he's called) for the next two weeks, except for brief encounters in the hallway and the gym that usually ended with odd statements like, "Just lie back and think of America!" Steve didn't exactly fear him or dislike him; he just couldn't understand him, like just about everything that wasn't his own bed these days. What baffled him the most was that Wilson seemed to live in his red-and-black suit and even the mask. He acted like he loved it. Perhaps Wilson was deranged or maybe he was simply very, very modern. From what Steve had gleaned from the television, either scenario was plausible.
Then one day (possibly a Wednesday---it feels like one), when the walls began to crawl closer around him, Steve went to the gym to go a few rounds with the punching bag. As soon as he walked in, he saw Wilson, hanging upside down from one of the rafters, waving at him.
"High-dee-ho, Cap!" he asked, his arms moving so rapidly that Steve was surprised he kept his balance. "Can I call you Cap or do you prefer Steve? Captain Rogers is probably more 'correct', but I'm not a formal guy. And definitely not 'Mister Rogers' 'cause now I have trolleys swirling around in my brain. But it's definitely a beautiful day in the neighborhood when you're here, Cap."
"I don't really have a preference," Steve told him as he began to pound the bag a little harder it was meant to be hit. "Deadpool, can I ask you a question?"
"Oh, my name sound so darn wonderful when you say it!" Wilson said dreamily, with a giant, affect sigh. "But yeah, shoot."
"What do you want from me?" His hand THUD-ed against the punching bag.
Wilson hoisted himself up and turned around to sit on the rafter facing Steve. "Nothing, dude, except maybe your company or the chance to whisk you off to a little island where we'd live on a farm raising mutated goats. Except that farming sucks. Anyway, why are you surprised? Everybody loves you. You're like Brad Pitt: the only people who genuinely hate you are snobby, socialist pseudo-intellectuals who still think that Woody Allen movies are original and that living in communes is productive."
"Who's Brad Pitt?"
"Oh, boy, I forgot about that. I am totally making you watch Fight Club. And Inglourious Basterds. And Cool World, just because it's trippy." Wilson kicked his feet happily.
"Hey, Wade! I brought you a sugar fix!" a female voice called out. It was that pretty dark-haired, blue-eyed girl Steve always saw wandering around the building, usually in a hurry, but now she was holding up a large white paper bag and smiling cheekily up at Wilson.
"Darcy! My very, very favorite beautiful intern!" Wilson hopped all the way down and landed perfectly on his feet, but did a somersault, probably just because he could. "Whatcha got today?"
"A whole crazy assortment. It was one of those wishy-washy days." She opened the bag and Wilson took out a ridiculously large cookie---in the old days, desserts that size only came out of state fairs. Then Darcy held out the bag in Steve's direction. "Want some, Captain Tightpants?"
"Uh..."
"Of course he does! Give him something, Darce!" Wilson said with a thumbs-up.
"Dude, if you don't pick something, me and Wade will eat all this and that'll be the Sugarpocalypse. Or Sugnarok." She shook the open bag and smiled at him. Steve took a strawberry danish that was about half the size of his face. "God, you two are cute together, you know that?"
"I, uh..." Steve racked his brain for the right response.
"Well, you know, Darce, we government experiments have to stick together!" Wilson clapped Steve on the shoulder. Steve could only guess that he was grinning.
*
"Deadpool---er, Wade, this can't be a good idea." Steve's stomach flipped as he watched Wilson hopping from rafter to rafter, throwing his two swords (katana, he said they were called) up in air and leaping much too fast to catch them.
"Of course it's not a good idea, Cap. I only ever had one of those---June 23, 1997," Wilson said, pausing to spin the katana together like a sharp, silver wheel.
"What was it?"
"I don't know anymore." He tossed the swords and flipped backward onto the next beam.
"I once thought I had a good idea," Darcy said through a mouthful of brownie. "I took a lit class on Jane Austen for an elective and thought I could just watch the movies. It flopped when I based my final paper's thesis on Mr. Darcy's open-shirt rowing scene. Turns out that's not in the book."
"Aw, that's what I woulda done, Darce." Toss, flip. Toss, leap.
Steve took a cookie out of the bag this time, one covered in M&M's. "So, Darcy, you're a college girl?"
"Yup, I'm only doing the whole S.H.I.E.L.D. thing to finish up six credits. Political science. One day, I'll be a senator and you guys will totally be my security guards."
"'Cept I'll be your top aide!" Wilson shouted, swiping the swords against each other.
"So you'd be the first, then? Woman senator, I mean."
Darcy looked at him like he'd just grown two extra heads. Then she laughed, reached up, and patted him on the head. "You are such a cute little Martian! And no."
"You tell 'im, Darcy!" Toss, jump. Toss, twirl.
Steve's cheeks grew hot. "Just wondering: do you and Wilson...are you two..."
"Me and Wade?" She laughed again, more giggly this time. "Nah, he's just my new BFF---he's the only guy around who's not a lame suit. Except for that guy in the file room who's got those dreamy green eyes---his name's Luke, I think. And Wade's got a much bigger crush on you anyway."
"You mean he's a---"
"He likes everything."
"Jesus, Cap, with your smooth moves, you're making me look like George Clooney." Wilson threw the katana against and jumped. Or at least Ryan Reynoooooooh!!!"
Wilson fell in slow motion with his arms and legs wiggling helplessly right before the swords pierced him onto the floor. At least, that's how Steve would remember it. He wouldn't remember running to his side (or Darcy following him), only the sight of Wilson splayed out a copy of the Vetruvian Man he'd once seen in an art book, only with more blades.
"Hi, Steve. What did you think of that landing?"
"You're still...does this place have a hospital wing?" Steve wondered why he still didn't know that.
"Don't sweat it, just pull these things out already!" Wilson reached over towards one of the katana with his unpierced arm, but quickly gave up. Steve yanked out the one in his side, then the one in his left arm. Wilson sprang up immediately. "Thanks for that, Cap! All good now!"
"Uh, how do you feel?" He heard Wilson's bones snap back into place. Not possible. Not even for Steve.
"Christlike, as always."
"As gross as it is, I kind of love it when he does that," Darcy remarked. They both ignored her.
"How did you---? You can't really---?"
Wilson punched him in the arm. "Like I said, Cap, we government experiments gotta stick together."
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,035
Fandoms: Captain America: The First Avenger (and general Marvel Cinematic Universe)/Deadpool
Characters: Cap (Steve Rogers), Deadpool, Darcy Lewis (intern extraordinaire from Thor)
Warnings: None for this chapter, except maybe Deadpool being Deadpool.
A/N: This was written last August for this prompt on capkink (back when there was virtually no plot information about The Avengers yet), which is why one character appears the way he does. I'm just getting around to posting all of my fills for the various MCU kink memes to my journal this summer. Also, this fic places 616 Deadpool within the MCU rather than combining the two canons.
Summary: Steve makes yet another new friend in this confusing future.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing in this wonderful sandbox.
Steve managed to avoid Wilson (or Deadpool or whatever he's called) for the next two weeks, except for brief encounters in the hallway and the gym that usually ended with odd statements like, "Just lie back and think of America!" Steve didn't exactly fear him or dislike him; he just couldn't understand him, like just about everything that wasn't his own bed these days. What baffled him the most was that Wilson seemed to live in his red-and-black suit and even the mask. He acted like he loved it. Perhaps Wilson was deranged or maybe he was simply very, very modern. From what Steve had gleaned from the television, either scenario was plausible.
Then one day (possibly a Wednesday---it feels like one), when the walls began to crawl closer around him, Steve went to the gym to go a few rounds with the punching bag. As soon as he walked in, he saw Wilson, hanging upside down from one of the rafters, waving at him.
"High-dee-ho, Cap!" he asked, his arms moving so rapidly that Steve was surprised he kept his balance. "Can I call you Cap or do you prefer Steve? Captain Rogers is probably more 'correct', but I'm not a formal guy. And definitely not 'Mister Rogers' 'cause now I have trolleys swirling around in my brain. But it's definitely a beautiful day in the neighborhood when you're here, Cap."
"I don't really have a preference," Steve told him as he began to pound the bag a little harder it was meant to be hit. "Deadpool, can I ask you a question?"
"Oh, my name sound so darn wonderful when you say it!" Wilson said dreamily, with a giant, affect sigh. "But yeah, shoot."
"What do you want from me?" His hand THUD-ed against the punching bag.
Wilson hoisted himself up and turned around to sit on the rafter facing Steve. "Nothing, dude, except maybe your company or the chance to whisk you off to a little island where we'd live on a farm raising mutated goats. Except that farming sucks. Anyway, why are you surprised? Everybody loves you. You're like Brad Pitt: the only people who genuinely hate you are snobby, socialist pseudo-intellectuals who still think that Woody Allen movies are original and that living in communes is productive."
"Who's Brad Pitt?"
"Oh, boy, I forgot about that. I am totally making you watch Fight Club. And Inglourious Basterds. And Cool World, just because it's trippy." Wilson kicked his feet happily.
"Hey, Wade! I brought you a sugar fix!" a female voice called out. It was that pretty dark-haired, blue-eyed girl Steve always saw wandering around the building, usually in a hurry, but now she was holding up a large white paper bag and smiling cheekily up at Wilson.
"Darcy! My very, very favorite beautiful intern!" Wilson hopped all the way down and landed perfectly on his feet, but did a somersault, probably just because he could. "Whatcha got today?"
"A whole crazy assortment. It was one of those wishy-washy days." She opened the bag and Wilson took out a ridiculously large cookie---in the old days, desserts that size only came out of state fairs. Then Darcy held out the bag in Steve's direction. "Want some, Captain Tightpants?"
"Uh..."
"Of course he does! Give him something, Darce!" Wilson said with a thumbs-up.
"Dude, if you don't pick something, me and Wade will eat all this and that'll be the Sugarpocalypse. Or Sugnarok." She shook the open bag and smiled at him. Steve took a strawberry danish that was about half the size of his face. "God, you two are cute together, you know that?"
"I, uh..." Steve racked his brain for the right response.
"Well, you know, Darce, we government experiments have to stick together!" Wilson clapped Steve on the shoulder. Steve could only guess that he was grinning.
*
"Deadpool---er, Wade, this can't be a good idea." Steve's stomach flipped as he watched Wilson hopping from rafter to rafter, throwing his two swords (katana, he said they were called) up in air and leaping much too fast to catch them.
"Of course it's not a good idea, Cap. I only ever had one of those---June 23, 1997," Wilson said, pausing to spin the katana together like a sharp, silver wheel.
"What was it?"
"I don't know anymore." He tossed the swords and flipped backward onto the next beam.
"I once thought I had a good idea," Darcy said through a mouthful of brownie. "I took a lit class on Jane Austen for an elective and thought I could just watch the movies. It flopped when I based my final paper's thesis on Mr. Darcy's open-shirt rowing scene. Turns out that's not in the book."
"Aw, that's what I woulda done, Darce." Toss, flip. Toss, leap.
Steve took a cookie out of the bag this time, one covered in M&M's. "So, Darcy, you're a college girl?"
"Yup, I'm only doing the whole S.H.I.E.L.D. thing to finish up six credits. Political science. One day, I'll be a senator and you guys will totally be my security guards."
"'Cept I'll be your top aide!" Wilson shouted, swiping the swords against each other.
"So you'd be the first, then? Woman senator, I mean."
Darcy looked at him like he'd just grown two extra heads. Then she laughed, reached up, and patted him on the head. "You are such a cute little Martian! And no."
"You tell 'im, Darcy!" Toss, jump. Toss, twirl.
Steve's cheeks grew hot. "Just wondering: do you and Wilson...are you two..."
"Me and Wade?" She laughed again, more giggly this time. "Nah, he's just my new BFF---he's the only guy around who's not a lame suit. Except for that guy in the file room who's got those dreamy green eyes---his name's Luke, I think. And Wade's got a much bigger crush on you anyway."
"You mean he's a---"
"He likes everything."
"Jesus, Cap, with your smooth moves, you're making me look like George Clooney." Wilson threw the katana against and jumped. Or at least Ryan Reynoooooooh!!!"
Wilson fell in slow motion with his arms and legs wiggling helplessly right before the swords pierced him onto the floor. At least, that's how Steve would remember it. He wouldn't remember running to his side (or Darcy following him), only the sight of Wilson splayed out a copy of the Vetruvian Man he'd once seen in an art book, only with more blades.
"Hi, Steve. What did you think of that landing?"
"You're still...does this place have a hospital wing?" Steve wondered why he still didn't know that.
"Don't sweat it, just pull these things out already!" Wilson reached over towards one of the katana with his unpierced arm, but quickly gave up. Steve yanked out the one in his side, then the one in his left arm. Wilson sprang up immediately. "Thanks for that, Cap! All good now!"
"Uh, how do you feel?" He heard Wilson's bones snap back into place. Not possible. Not even for Steve.
"Christlike, as always."
"As gross as it is, I kind of love it when he does that," Darcy remarked. They both ignored her.
"How did you---? You can't really---?"
Wilson punched him in the arm. "Like I said, Cap, we government experiments gotta stick together."