ᵃᵘᵗᵒᵖᶫᵃʸ They call me Nightclub

Martin winced, but he calmed down when he felt her lips on his. His hands raked across her hair. “She wasn’t exactly my biggest fan before, Jane,” he murmured when they broke apart. He shook his head. “I guess I think too much.” A smirk lit up his face. “I just realized I’m talking about overthinking with a workaholic.”

“How am I a workaholic?” Punching him gently on the arm she laughed, though felt somewhat offended. “If your brain felt like a hamster wheel caught on fire you would probably want to spend that much time in front of a desk as well!” Kissing him a few times, one right after the other as if asking for forgiveness and comprehension, she went on. “It’s not that she didn’t like you. We were in so much pain... You’d also hit someone if you were in a lot of pain and they didn’t leave you alone for a bit. Wouldn’t you? I know you would.”

Martin scrunched up his nose as her eye twitched. He let out a sigh and let Jane go, instead focusing on a wall in the corner of his apartment. “I knew it,” he grunted, throwing his arms in the air. “She still doesn’t like me.” His eyes glowed gold for a second and the lightbulb above him dimmed slightly. 

“Come on, it’s not that.” She claimed, soon hugging him again and pulling him closer to herself. “Electricity is complex, even more in the human body. I’m pretty sure the twitching is just... let’s call it a malfunction. She’s gotten used to you, that’s something, right? It really could be a lot worse.” Sighing, she pulled away, if only to brush his hair back with her fingers, pursing her lips before she went and kissed him on the lips. “Stop worrying.”

Martin cocked his head to the side and hummed lightly. “How is she today?” he asked, in a higher pitch than he was used to. “You don’t seem to be complaining as much.” He tried very hard not to smile, as he assumed that she didn’t like to be talked about.

“Fine. I mean, I guess she’s fine. I haven’t had a headache in a while but that’s probably because I haven’t had a reason to be angry as of late. Does that... Does that even make any sense?” She asked him, standing on her toes so she could wrap her arms around his neck comfortably, leaning against him, one of her eyes twitching. Quick to cover it with one of her hands, she pursed her lips. “Then again... we don’t really know. She pulls some ugly stuff like this.”

Martin couldn’t stay mad at her, even if he tried. “Yeah,” he mumbled, a faint blush clouding his cheeks. “You’re right.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek before returning to the shopping bag. “Just the basics. Milk, eggs and all that crap.” He nudged her on the shoulder.”If you guys wanted something, you should write a list next time.”

“See, that’s even worse? You technically have two girlfriends and you don’t take care of either of them.” She gathered, of course, laughing it off soon afterwards, just to let him know she wasn’t actually trying to guilt trip him. They had bad temperaments already and trying to do something just to spite the other wasn’t the best of ideas, they both knew by now. “We could always go out again. On me... even though it was your turn.”

Martin shook his head and bit his lip. “My head is fine, but I wonder if I do say you’re giving me a headache you would be mad at me.” He poutws, but winked afterwards. “You are still a really cool person, but you’re also really bossy.” A slight smirk glided across his face. “Just like when we first met!”

“As far as I can remember you liked me being bossy. I couldn’t get you to leave my office that one time and sooner than later I ended up with a secretary, boyfriend, and roommate. Are you complaining now? Because I did warn you.” She granted, booping his pouting lips with one of her fingers. “But yes, what did you bring?”

Martin ground slightly and massaged his temples. He closed the door with an abrupt slam. The shopping bag he was carrying dropped to the ground. “I just got in the door, thank you very much!” A quick grimace, before a smile lit up his face. “Nice to see you too.”

“Well, fine, I was just joking.” She implied, feeling rather... weird at his reaction to what she had tried to say. Standing from her chair and letting her blue prints slide back into a roll, Jane walked up to him, settling her hands on his head. “Does it hurt or are you really mad at me? Because I can help with the first thing, the second one, not so much.”

“You might want to get away from that window instead of leaning against it like that.” She said, a pang of cautiousness sipping through what seemed an almost manually wired brain. Jane wondered if he noticed her lack of some reactions and then having some others in such a natural manner. Fact was, she couldn’t afford to focus much on that. “Sympathy, yes. If I had a reason why, trust me, you’d be the first to know. But it probably really has something to do with the fact that you don’t call yourself a hero when you know you’re not.”

“If it didn’t sound like something that would land me in jail, I’d help you, no shares needed. As much as I hate the man, I just want to spite him, not potentially put the rest of the world at risk. Much less for money... not that I’m lacking any, anyway.” Moving in closer to the window, she paid attention to detail; it’d have to do. “If you’re not a superhero, Mr. Deadpool, then what are you? Because I’m taking a little sympathy of you and that rarely happens with people who walk around dressed... like that.” 

“You would think it’d be easier considering he seems to be somewhat busy at times destroying different cities, but alas...” She granted, shrugging a little, one of her hands reaching for her mouth in a bit of a thoughtful expression. She knew it was hard to break in. Of course it was. But she had never anticipated managing to get the man’s attention would prove to be such a challenge. Once the window was fixed, Jane reached back for her bag, lending out the money to him. “There you go. But uh... What would getting those files imply? I mean, what’s to happen when you get them?”

Deadpool looked at the window then back at Jane, then back at the window again, “Ugggh fiiine. Make it 75 and deal.” He stated before going over to the window to assess the situation a hand. It shouldn’t be too difficult to pop the window panel-thingy back in, “Joanne’s Fabrics.” Wade removed his gloves so he could better work on the window.

Jane shook her head and leaned against the nearby wall, next to her closet. “Considering you broke into my place thinking I was related to Scrooge McDuck, I shouldn’t even be paying you. It’s fifty or you’re not going anywhere.” Part of her didn’t mean the threat. Elizabeth’s rage against Tony Stark wasn’t going anywhere, no matter how much time passed since the New York Incident, and he seemed to have some interest in the man himself. If he had come around making questions, then she could as well. “So, what’s your own deal with Tony Stark?”