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Wade Wilson, A.K.A. Deadpool, A.K.A. the COOLEST Merc With a Mouth EVER, was having an awesome day.
He'd woken up to freshly baked brownies for breakfast, and Rogue hadn't even rolled her eyes at him when he ate the whole pan. The paycheck for the last job he'd pulled in Mexico had cleared, and the smell of chihuahua piss had been cleaned out of his favorite pair of boots. Weasel had called to tell him he'd finally gotten in those new guns he'd been drooling over for months. Rogue had also decided that it was her turn to treat Wade to his favorite diner for dinner, and the place was even serving his favorite dish even though it wasn't Taco Tuesday!
Sure, the waitress kept giving him Looks that were probably speaking ones, but Wade wasn't very fluent in whatever language she spoke so he just ignored her. And there were tacky cut outs of hearts everywhere. And every other customer in the store looked like they were playing footsie under the tables. And there were way too many sappy love songs being played over the speakers.
Whatever. The point was that he was having an awesome day, and nothing could ruin it.
Nothing.
Really.
.....crap. He hated it when that little niggling voice of doubt decided to speak loud enough to be heard over all the other voices in his head.
"Waaaaait a minute," Wade narrowed his eyes and looked suspiciously at Rogue, the hanging pieces of paper, and the sour looking lady. There was something there, he could feel it. Something to do with the hearts and the date. What was the day? "Is this-"
The backward writing in the front window finally caught Wade's eyes. Valentine's day. Oh, he felt like an idiot now. He whipped his head back to pin the kid with a glare he really hoped transferred well through the mask, "Is this a date?!"
The kid looked up with that adorable wide-eyed-and-blank-caught-with-hand-in-cookie-jar face that he kept meaning to train her out of, but the fact that it was useful in situations like this stopped him. She was a sly one, he'd give her that. If it hadn't been for the writing on the window, she'd have gotten away with this one. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"
Rogue smiled uncertainly, "Happy Valentine's Day?"
"No! Wrong! Bad! Nu-uh!" Wade shook his head violently enough that he could almost pretend the whole day wasn't there, but then one of the paper hearts sparkled. "We've had this talk before, kiddo."
"I'm seventeen, not nine," Rogue said with a sigh that was truly epic and long suffering, which was a sigh she was getting very good at. "You're not in any danger of becoming a pedophile. Besides, lots of women take their fathers out today."
"Woah! Ok, first off? Seventeen still ain't legal nowhere that counts, and I just don't do that. Second? Father, me? That's so wrong in so many ways that I don't even know where to start. And when I don't know where to start talking about something? That should clue you in to how seriously fucked up it is."
"Get over it, Wade," the kid went back to picking at her burrito platter. "Day's about over and I'm not taking anything back. So, you might as well enjoy it."
Taking anything back? Wade leaned back from the table and looked around cautiously. He would've noticed if she'd brought a box or something with her, but she really was sneaky and he wasn't putting anything past her anymore. "Why? What else have you got hidden away?"
"Paranoid much?" Rogue held both hands up. The universal gesture for 'I'm not armed, please don't shoot me in the ba-aargh!' Which was a complete lie coming from her. "All I got is that porno you've been looking for."
Danger, Wade Wilson! Danger! The correct answer to a sentence like that would involve the words no, return, and never again. But a traitorous part of his brain perked up and took temporary control of his mouth, "Porn?"
"Yep," Rogue grinned. Oh, she knew she had him there. "The one set in an all women's prison."
"With the blonde twins?" Wade's mouth continued the conversation completely without his permission. "With the German accents and the toys?"
"And the red-head," Rogue said as she reached for the hot sauce. She slowly coated the burritos before putting the final nail in the coffin of Wade's battered conscience. "It's the complete version."
Seventeen, seventeen, seventeen. Wade stuffed an entire taco into his mouth. He didn't trust what it would say.