#deadpool shenanigans

Note: I actually don’t often ship Foggy/Matt, as my OTP is Fratt, but I have a thing for cuddly dom!Foggy, so there’s that.

Oooh. Poetry.

__________________________

Deadpool had about five minutes before Matt packed up his shit and went home. It was starting to snow; his senses didn’t work so well in this weather, his fingers were frozen, and his socks were wet.

His socks were wet.

“Honey! I’m home!” Wade called, finally clambering onto Matt’s roof. “~I can’t feel my face! Baby it’s cold outside. Let’s go back to your place…sooo we can fuuuuck~”

“That’s not how the song goes,” Matt said, irritated. “I’ve been here for an hour. We said one, Wade.”

“Nuh-uh. Three! I’m totally early.”

He was not early. He was dumb, and Matt was cold and his socks were wet.

“Can we please just get this over with?” he snapped. “Your being here at all is a professional courtesy. Your man is there,” Matt pointed to the fourth floor. “My diamond is there.” He pointed to the fifth. “Got it?”

“Capisce compadre.” Wade saluted, but didn’t move from the roof. “I’m just curious though, what do you need a three million dollar diamond for?”

More socks, Matt thought, these are wet.

“I’m starting a charity for disadvantaged blind orphans with abandonment issues,” he confessed. “Then I’m giving the rest to the church.”

Deadpool laughed. “Sure. I should have asked, ‘hmm, how many pairs of silk sheets can you get with three mill?’”

Perching on the edge of the building, Matt tested the cable before buckling himself in.  

“So many,” he answered, and then slid down onto the roof of the bank.

“Nice ass!” Wade yelled after him.

_________________________

Daredevil strikes again! Georgian Diamond stolen from Max Security Vault! said the Bulletin headline.

“DD strikes back. DD, a new hope. Return of the DD. The Phantom D–”

Matt hung up on him.

A few seconds later, Wade called back. “Is this Ghengis Connie’s? How is your dim sum on a scale of one to ten?”

Matt hung up.

“Idiot, Idiot, Idiot,” said Matt’s phone.

He did not answer; instead, he drank his very good organic coffee and wiggled his vicuna wool covered toes with quiet satisfaction.

“Idiot using Weasel’s phone, Idiot using Weasel’s phone, idiot using Weasel’s phone.”

Matt sighed.

“Unknown number, probably Wade, unknown number, probably Wade – I don’t know why I get up in the morning,” he said when he finally answered. “Stop calling me. And stop calling me Daredevil.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal. But I’ll never lose your number, Rikki. What are you wearing?”

Matt hung up.

_________________________

They met on a heist.

Both people. Both times.

Matt would never ever admit to why he tolerated Deadpool’s crap, and he and Foggy were still really new, but Matt could reasonably say that two of the most prevalent people in his life were introduced to him while shit went down. Attachments were often made in times of strife, after all.

One introduction occurred during a high stakes B&E at S.H.I.E.L.D. Accounting HQ (don’t ask), and the other was at the law offices of Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz. Matt was stealing sensitive paperwork both times.

Deadpool was attempting to reconfigure someone’s face while arguing about the merits of fish tacos v carne asada (Matt has never asked for an explanation, because Matt gives a fuck only sometimes and this was not one of those times), and the whole one-sided debate/torture session was being held right on top of the file cabinet that Matt needed to break into.

It was very inconvenient.

Punches were thrown, acrobatics done, and some of Deadpool’s limbs were lost. Even though Matt left him doing a black knight “just a flesh wound” impression, Deadpool decided to seek out Matt later anyway. Apparently they were now “best friends for freaking ever and ever,” and “they still make those halfsy heart necklaces, I’ll get us one, omg!!1!”

There was over a year of suffering Wade’s…Wadeness, before the second most important person in Matt’s life walked in on him shuffling through Jeryn Hogarth’s personal file cabinet at 3 am.

Seriously with the file cabinets.

“Um, are you… stealing…stuff?” said Foggy, and then he took a deep breath. “Do you need legal representation?”

Matt considered this. “Probably,” he decided. “But that depends on my getting caught.”

Foggy nodded sagely. “True that,” he said. “I doubt I could out-ninja you, if you are, in fact, the dude I think you are…so, I’ll go call the cops and you can just skedaddle while I hope for the sake of my career that you’ve not taken anything too important.”

“Hogarth has evidence that one of your clients is guilty of embezzlement. This is that evidence,” Matt told him, waving the folder around. “So no, your ass isn’t on the line.” He thought for a moment. “Unless I decide to get rid of the witness.”

“Sure ok,” Foggy scoffed, taking out his phone and thumbing through it. He punched in 911 (presumably) and held it up for Matt to see (which he couldn’t). “Calling them now, so…catch you on the flipside.”

Matt made it four blocks away by the time the cops caught up, and by then he had replaced thoughts of the heist with thoughts of Foggy. Matt was fascinated, and oddly charmed by this man, and some part of his brain must have come loose or there was a gas leak in his apartment or something, because he found himself calling Wade to talk about it.

“He sounds amazing,” Wade said, groaning into the phone. “Is he hot? Are you gonna hook up? I think I’m jealous.”

“I don’t know what he looks like because I can’t see,” Matt reminded him politely, and Wade groaned again. “But he smells nice.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“I can’t see him at all, because I’m blind.”

Wade hung up on him.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” Matt’s phone announced thirty seconds later.

“Just promise me one thing,” announced Wade, sounding melancholy. “Bros before hoes, Matty. Bros. Before. Hoes.”

Matt promised reluctantly, even though he had no intention whatsoever of ever crossing paths with Foggy again.

But fate had another plan, of course.

…and also Foggy and Matt’s romance is really quite a lovely story, and honestly, there’s only so much Deadpool readers can take.

_________________________

“Oh good! I caught you.”

Matt wasn’t sure how exactly Foggy Nelson had figured out where his local bodega was. He wasn’t sure how Foggy knew who he was even, because he was in Matt-clothes, not Daredevil cat-suit clothes.

And he’d just called himself Daredevil. Fucking Wade.

But more pressing things were at hand, like this getting caught business.

“What?”

Foggy seemed to realize what he’d said, based on his nervous shuffling. “Uh, not in the ‘apprehending a suspect’ sense, but in a, I need some friendly advice sense.”

Matt put down the fruit he’d been inspecting, and turned to face Foggy directly. There was an intake of breath.

“That’s…a cane. How did I miss the cane? Wow. Uh. Cane.”

“How did you know who I was?” Matt asked, crossing his arms. “And give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you?”

He wondered if Foggy had thought any of this through, but then he didn’t seem all that nervous at the mention of killing things. Huh.

“Because you don’t kill people?” Huh. “And you feel like paying me back for doing you a solid that one time?”

Matt suddenly blushed, feeling like an asshole. He did owe Foggy, and he felt bad that Foggy had had to call on that debt to get Matt to help him. Matt wasn’t…a bad person, per se. Self-serving, yes. Compulsive liar and thief, absolutely. Unwilling to help his fellow man (especially when appealed to directly)? Of course not. He was human. He had human…emotions. Empathy. Compassion.

Stick hadn’t completely fucked him up, after all.

You’re a hot mess, baby, his internal Wade-voice said. What you need is some dick, offer him an afternoon siesta–

Shut up, Wade.

“Sorry, Nelson. Of course I’ll help.” Matt mumbled, frowning in the direction of his shoes. “I’m not a complete ass.”

“Ookay… never said you were. So, here’s the thing: someone broke into my apartment but they didn’t steal anything, man, they left something. In your expert opinion does this smack of crazy or clever manipulation? Or both?”

“What did they leave?”

“A hoe.”

Matt blinked. “Excuse me?”

“A hoe. Uh. Like the farm tool…thing. The raking. Of the crops. I don’t know I’m from Hell’s Kitchen.”

“A hoe,” he parroted in disbelief.

Foggy was smiling nervously, he could hear it, and Matt might have smiled back had he not realized exactly what (or whom) he was dealing with.

“Deadpool,” Matt hissed.

———-

“I’m just trying to get you out there.” Wade dodged a kick to the face. “It’s been two years, Matty! I’m surprised little Matt hasn’t just fallen off…just, detached and run off to find someone that actually appreciates him for who he is– ”

Matt socked him in the stomach. “Oof!” said Wade. “OK time-out. Time-out. That actually hurt kinda.”

Despite being angry at him, Matt did pull away, his hands on Deadpool’s shoulders. “You need to stop,” he told his friend. “Nelson could have gone to the police with your note.”

He hadn’t been able to appreciate Wade’s drawing of Foggy in a giant dick costume (“it’s very très chic,” Foggy had said) but the addition of the address for Matt’s local grocery and what time he usually dropped by was absolutely not something he appreciated at all.

“Oh, come on.” Wade threw his hands in the air as Matt stomped around his kitchen. “He never would have gone to the po po. He’s the most innocent butterscotch donut there ever was. The worst he’s probably ever done to anyone is ask if they were really blind. And those were special circumstances! And his hair is golden and glossy. He wears cute suits. He’s really come along way from She’s All That!”

“Wade, enough.”

Wade sunk into a sullen silence, which, getting him to actually shut up for even a short period of time was sort of a superpower of Matt’s. Everyone said so. And usually this was where he sighed and told Wade to stop pouting and then forgave him, but Matt was serious this time.

“You could have really screwed up here, you know. Nice guy or not, Foggy Nelson knowing my secret identity isn’t necessarily a good thing. Now he’s…involved. My enemies could come after him.”

“Spider-man hasn’t tried to arrest you in months– ”

“They could use him to hurt me. If I’m being honest, that’s what I’m most afraid of, Wade. Of people I care for being caught in the crossfire.”

“Oh my goooooooooood,” Wade exclaimed, skipping over to Matt and grabbing him into an uncomfortable hug. “You’re still scarred about that one time with the Punisher! Awwwww, Matty. You knew I’d be fine! I’m sorry you got splattered with my brains– ”

“You’re sorry?”

“ –and for making you choose between your boyfriend and me. But that was my fault, not yours. I was on Castle’s radar a long time before he started doing the do with you. Which sounded pretty hot, gotta say. Oh, and I heard you that one time.”

“Ugh.”

“You’re kinda loud.”

“Just…” Matt sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Just let me handle it, okay?”

“You got it, DD. Consider me persona non grata! El out of it-o. Worry not about anymore interference from me, my good sir. I leave thee to thy contemplations of eternal celibacy. Foggy Nelson is never gonna hear from me again! You have my word.”

_________________________

“Hi,” Wade said into Foggy’s ear, who nearly jumped out of his seat in surprise. “Sooooo? What’d you think? He’s hot, right?”

“I, um– ”

“Ooh, breakfast burritos!” He purloined Foggy’s meal, sitting across from him at the little cafe table. People stared. Wade knew it was because he was super handsome and famous. “I notice you didn’t ask him out.”

Foggy shrugged awkwardly. “Well, he was pretty annoyed, so I figured it wasn’t the best time to suggest dinner.”

Wade shoved the half-eaten burrito in his pocket. “I see,” he nodded. “Oh, and speaking of seeing, how do you feel about the blind thing? Because let me tell you, it took some getting used to– ”

“Um.”

“ –but then Matt explained this thing called ableism to me, and wow was that an eye-opener. Pun totally intended. So if you’ve got a problem with blind people I completely understand, but also you’re probably gonna meet Mean Deadpool instead of Nice Deadpool. The Mean one kills people. Wait. So does the Nice one. Just don’t hate blind people, OK?”

Foggy let him finish, a cute little wrinkle in between his eyes. “I’m not ableist,” he replied, slowly. “I have no problem with the differently abled. Please don’t kill me. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now, Matt is a very handsome duck, yes,” he admitted. “Like really handsome. And I’m interested. Very interested.”

Wade leaned forward excitedly. “It’s the hair isn’t it? I mean Charlie Cox is hot as fuck, but Comics!Matt has always been my secret man-crush. I’m thinking this particular fanfic features more of a Mixed Matt, like, Charlie’s adorbs face but with ginger tresses, and of course he’s got that ass in any medium. Because, like, that ass.”

Foggy held up a hand. “Dude, I’m trying to ask for Matt’s number.”

Deadpool pulled out his phone, which was covered in smooshed breakfast burrito. “Dude, why didn’t you just say so? Why do people insist on writing pages filled with useless dialogue? I’m not even that funny.”

________________________

“Unknown number, probably Wade, unknown number, probably Wade– did you pick up my dry cleaning again? I’ve told you hundred times to leave those people alone– ”

“Uh. That sounds like a story.”

Matt blinked. He blinked again. “How did you get this number?”

He could hear Foggy Nelson’s heartbeat speed up over the phone (Wade was fond of testing Matt’s abilities this way, usually with his hand down his pants, which was why Matt kept the length of their phone conversations to thirty seconds or less) and waited for an explanation that didn’t include the words 'dead’ or 'pool’. Alas, Matt was unlucky in life.

“I don’t know why I believed him when he said he would drop this,” Matt grumbled, leaning against his sink. “Listen, Nelson, it’s not that I don’t like you– ”

“No, it’s okay,” Foggy reassured him, though he sounded disappointed. “I get it, and I’m sorry I’m bothering you.”

“You’re not!” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not bothering me. I’m just not dating right now.”

“Bad break up, huh?”

Matt laughed humorlessly. “The worst.”

“Yeah, I lost a real spitfire a couple years ago to corporate law, and then wham! I’m suddenly working for HCB and there goes my high horse. She’s made it her goal in life to destroy me in court every chance she gets. Of which there are now many.”

“Why did you go to work for Hogarth?”

“Turns out owning your own practice is a total bummer. Thank you casseroles from endless pro bono clients are not accepted in lieu of rent money. Who knew.”

Matt smiled despite himself. “Not even enchilada casserole?”

“Not even that.”

There was a comfortable silence, and then Matt took a breath and said, “you know I was going to be a lawyer?”

“No way, Jose!”

He laughed. “Really. I was.”

Foggy laughed too. “How on earth did that go so sideways?”

So Matt told him, and Foggy listened and made all the right jokes and didn’t judge and generally charmed the pants off of him. They talked about law, then breaking the law (as you do), then Wade, then Wade’s hygiene (as you do), and then moved on to old movies, vinyl records, the best place for cannoli, that One Time Tony Stark Crashed Into a Strip Club, and the current health care bill that everyone but Wade was concerned about.

“We should have dinner,” Matt found himself saying during a slight pause in their banter. “I mean yes. I’m saying yes.”

“To dinner? As in, a dinner date?” Foggy sounded hopeful.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “We should do that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They set a time and place; both a bit breathless with excitement. When Matt hung up, he checked the time. It had been 2 hours and 36 minutes since he’d accepted the call. He had talked to Foggy Nelson for 2 hours, and 36 minutes.

When’s the wedding? His inner Wade-voice said.

Matt scoffed and ignored it, but he had a small smile on his face for the rest of the night.

_________________________

His socks were wet again, but this time it had nothing to do with snow. This time it was the Hudson; which Matt had decided to take a dip into (no, not decided, he’d been pushed. Pushed).

“You are dead!” He yelled, water-logged and spitting mad. “Dead!”

Wade only laughed and laughed.

“Um, thanks for the help,” Spider-man said, somewhat dubiously. Behind him, a large Godzilla-looking green reptile lay dead and still partially on fire.

“I wasn’t helping!” Matt growled, boots squelching as he dragged his sore body away from the boardwalk. “I’m a villain, remember?”

“Right.” Spider-man didn’t sound so sure. “You know, Daredevil, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“You sure did,” Wade nodded, slapping Matt on the back of his wet catsuit. Ugh. “He’s not a villain at all! Self-serving? Yeah. Kind of a dick? Sure. But sinister enough for Spidey’s rogues gallery? Nah…wait. Isn’t Stilt-man in there somewhere? I take it all back.“

“I’m not a hero,” Matt hissed.

“Your boyfriend thinks you are! OMG Spidey it’s so cute, he’s dating the embodiment of summer sunshine, Raffi, and kittens playing in little boxes.”

Wade went on to tell the entire story of MattnFoggy, and Spider-man thought it was all very lovely, of course.

“That’s so sweet, DD,” he gushed like a High Schooler. “And now I’m 100% sure you’re just misunderstood.”

“110!” Wade crowed.

“110,” Spider-man nodded.

Later, Matt and Wade trooped back to Matt’s apartment; one exhausted and pensive, while the other remained as hyper and cacophonous as always. Wade was ecstatic about making a new friend, and was going on and on about “Team Red”, but Matt was too distracted to listen.

“Wade,” he said, cutting off his endless stream of nonsense. “Do you think…do you ever wonder about going straight?”

Wade gasped. “Honey, no.”

“I’m serious,” said Matt. “I’m just– I’m just worried for Foggy. I want to be good for him.”

“Listen.” Wade reached out and took Matt by the shoulders, shaking him a little. “You already are good. You’re great. Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes great. So what if you steal stuff? You’re not hurting anybody!”

“Rich people,” Matt pointed out.

“No one cares about the 1%, coal miners, or crybaby white people. You’re a freedom fighter! An enemy of fascist America! I’m proud of you, Matt. And so is Foggy, because that’s who this is really about.”

Which was true. This was about Foggy, and it was becoming a serious hang-up that was threatening the very fabric of their relationship. Something needed to be done, so Matt gathered his courage that night and asked Foggy if he really knew what he was getting into.

“You do know that I’m a villain, right?” He said cautiously. “I’ve been arrested by the Avengers and everything.”

For the first time, Matt was feeling somewhat ashamed of this, rather than just indifferent or irritated.

“Psh,” Foggy replied, holding Matt’s hand. They were intertwined on Matt’s couch, which seemed to be their habit these days. “Who needs those guys? Not me. Plus I like you just the way you are, and I know it’s cheesy, but you’ve stolen my heart.”

Matt smiled shyly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Foggy leaned in and kissed the top of his head and squeezed his shoulders. Matt melted. “But you know what, Matty? I don’t think you’re a bad person at all. I think you’re great, and it doesn’t really matter that you steal stuff, unless you’re caught and go to prison, which would suck. But even then I would stick by you. I’d be your legal representation.”

“That’s practically a proposal.” He grinned and sat up and stared in the general direction of his boyfriend. He felt warm and cared for, and the pure, overwhelming affection he had for this man prompted him to say, “Foggy Nelson, will you be my legal representation?”

“I will.” Foggy’s heart didn’t lie. “Forever and always.”

Anyway, it’s Valentinte’s day today and both B and I are incredibly single, so just like last year, we spent it hanging out and being weird. We got up, got ready, and then wound up hanging out in the kitchen to eat breakfast where one of the other people living in the flat was making chicken (which smelled amazing, by the way). So we ate, then went to the store to get some food for later in the week, came back to the apartment and had some hot chocolate because why not, and then headed out to the O2 (the place, not the store). Now the O2 is pretty huge, but I didn’t really realize just how big it was until we were there and wow, it’s kinda massive.

Not the greatest picture, but it’s the white dome with all of the pointy yellow things on top of it (alien defense mechanisms. They’re totally Alien Defense Mechanisms and no one can tell me otherwise).  There are a ton of restaurants inside, so we popped in and ate at this really cool little restaurant called Square Pie.

It’s a cool little restaurant that serves traditional British pies, like lamb and rosemary or steak and cheese, or something like that. It was small and quite charming and the staff were very kind. I got the steak and mushroom pie, in case anyone was wondering.

Anywho, we wound up walking around for a little bit and while we were walking we saw some Deadpool cosplayers, which was fun to see! We weren’t able to get pictures with them, but there were several of them all together and it made both B and I grin.

Then.

The fated moment arrived.

SKULLPOOPL i mean DEADPOOL in DBOX SEATING.

For those in the audience who don’t know, Dbox seating is where the seat moves with the film, so someone gets thrown, the back of the seat jerks forward, the camera tips and the seat cushion tips, there’s and explosion and the whole seat shakes, etc. And might I say, it made me movie almost more exciting. I’ve never gone to a movie with Dbox seating before, so it was definitely an experience, especially considering it was, you know, Deadpool, so explosions abounded.

Also, a note on the actual movie: without giving away anything I will say that it’s R-rated for a reason. It was funny, but definitely earned its R-rating, so don’t go taking your 13 year old children to it because you think it’s just a comedy super-hero movie.

Moving on. After the movie, we went to go get some dinner. The one place that wasn’t SUPER packed and also wasn’t extremely swanky (looking at you stereotypically high-end bar with way too dim lighting and like 4 people sitting in it) was a TGI Friday’s and even that had a supposedly 40 minute wait (even though we wound up waiting only 20-ish minutes, which was nice, but weird). The food was good, but our poor waitress looked about run ragged as she dashed around to try and get to all of her tables. She was sweet, though and took good care of B and I, so that was good. When we told her we had just gone to see Deadpool she grinned and told us not to give anything away because she’s seeing it tomorrow. I hope she enjoys herself.