Chapter Text
The Incident happened a couple of weeks after Steve woke up.
Fury and Coulson had briefed him on his situation and they had told him that over the years, he still had admirers. Steve hadn't expected anyone like this, though.
Steve had left his door open. He couldn't explain why. Maybe he thought a familiar face might walk back in against all impossibility. Instead, a figure covered in a red and black body suit and mask poked his head in.
"Whoa, Captain America! I'd know that handsome, bizarrely Aryan mug anywhere!" The figure (a man, Steve supposed) bounced into the room and did a backflip. "You know, I always did think it was a little weird that the Nazis got their asses handed to them by a guy who looked like their wacky ideal..."
Steve can feel his mouth hanging open as he watches the stranger, noticing the narrows swords sheathed and strapped to his back. "So you're a fan?"
"Oh, yeah. I've read all the comic books and I even bought all your old newsreels on DVD---had to kill a minor Arab sheikh to get that money. I love those things---they're even cheesier than Army of Darkness! But now you're here! Which is a thousand times better, don'tcha know." The man stood up, crossed his arms, and cocked his head to the side. "I didn't believe it at first because I heard a couple of S.H.I.E.L.D. mooks talking about it, and everyone knows that mooks and goons don't ever know any accurate information except random tidbits on how to destroy the villains evil lair. But then that cute little intern, whose name I'm totally blanking on---Daisy? Delaney? Something trendy-sounding but not in the Top 100---she told me about it when she brought me some chimichangas and she's practically Coulson's assistant or something, so I figured it was true. So now we're here. And it's amazing!" He made jazz hands motions and twirled around excitedly.
Steve blinked several times. "Does everyone nowadays talk that fast?"
"Nah, just me. Forgot to introduce myself in my fanboy SQUEE!" The man held his hand out. "Name's Deadpool. Also Wade Wilson, but the jury's out on whether I stole that or not. They're keeping me here because they think I have information on something---I don't even know what---but I stay because I kind of like it. Like I said, I'm totally a fan."
"Well, uh, that's good to know." Steve's ears seemed to burn with the amount and speed of language they'd just processed.
"WILSON!" Fury's voice booms in the corridor.
"Whoops, gotta go!" Deadpool rushed over to Steve, bent down, and kiss him in the space of about five seconds. There was definitely a mouth behind that mask. A very toothy one. Then Deadpool, or Wilson, sprang back and practically leapt out the door. Steve could hear him trying to placate Fury. "It's not like I was bothering him or anything...well, I probably was, but it had to be a lot more entertaining than whatever faux-military jargon you and your suits have been throwing at him since he woke up."
Steve took a deep breath and decided that Wilson wasn't completely wrong.