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Deadpool slash fic

Title: Irene Wishes that She Has Wade’s Problem
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Pairing: implied Nate/Wade, Stryfe/Wade, Nate/Wade/Stryfe
Warnings: bad grammar, AUness
Summary: Set in hohaiyee's story-verse where Stryfe is not so a much evil evil as badboy evil. Deadpool recounts his boy trouble to the largely unsympathetic ears of Irene Merryweather.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Deadpool and co. except for some comic books and action figures.

Irene Wishes that She Has Wade’s Problem

Irene saw Wade skulking around the public park on Providence, poking occasionally out of the hedges.

“Psst…Irene,” he hissed at her.


“Shh…shhh. Is Nate around?” He looked around himself suspiciously.

“No, he has a meeting the UN Secretary General this afternoon.”

“Good. Good.” This is getting odder and odder, Irene thought.

“Have you seen Stryfe around by any chance?”

“Not really. I think he and Nate had another fight this morning so Nate has banished him from Providence for the time being.”

“Really!?!? Great!” Wade finally jumped out of the shadow, mumbling ‘great, great’ to himself as he stretched and popped his joint obscenely.

Irene rolled her eyes in irritation when she realized that Wade actually is more flexible than her. Then she noticed the state of his uniform.

“Why is your uniform torn in places? And so rumpled.” Also now that he’s standing closer to her, Irene realized too late that Wade reeked as well.

She winkled her nose but either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care. Instead, Wade pulled her into one of the park benches, grasped her hand to his bosom and made her promise to cross her heart and hope to die riding on a pink unicorn with rainbow mane if she tells anyone what he is about to tell her. Irene can only nod dumbly.

“Nate and Stryfe are too much! At first it was great, I thought to myself they’re both hot and they both want you. The world can only get better for Wade Wilson. I mean, what’s hotter than sleeping with the ‘Messiah-of-Our-Generation’ (trademark CNN) and his brother”—

—they’re clones (Irene interrupted)—

—“and his twin (Wade completely ignored her), especially when you have a healing factor that just won’t quit and an ass tight enough to bounce quarters off of. But it’s too much! It’s constantly ‘bend over that table, Wade, I’ll teach you who you should go to first’ or ‘I’m going to take you so hard you’ll forget about him’ or ‘Take your clothes off now Wade, I smell him on you.’ It’s like two dogs fighting over a bone. I’m beginning to fear for my tender loins, if you know what I mean.”

Irene can only nod dumbly.

“Oh, I knew you’d understand, Irene Merryweather!”

Inside Irene seethed. It’s bad enough that Nate is completely ignorant of her feelings for him but when Stryfe suddenly showed up, Irene had thought that she might have another shot. But apparently, obliviousness and a terminal case of denseness is genetic, who knew.

Outside, she offered, “Maybe you should let them know that you don’t appreciate being fought over like a favored toy. You should tell them that they need to fight it out once and for all who gets....” She couldn’t bring herself to say ‘you’ to Wade.

“That’s it!” Wade suddenly jumped up and gave Irene a hug, which she did not want at all, before disappearing into the trees. “I’m so glad that we had this girl talk. You’re the best, Irene!”


“Psst…Irene,” Irene walked hurriedly, hoping to ignore the familiar voice hissing her name from the shades. “Irene, Irene, Irene, psst, psst.”

“What, Wade,” she finally turned to look at him, the slight tinge of desperation in his voice piqued her curiosity.

He appeared about the same as last time. “It didn’t work, Irene,” he said to her sadly.

“What didn’t—

Irene’s question was interrupted by the sudden arrival of the ‘Messiah-of-Our-Generation’ (trademark CNN) and his clone, followed by the immediate departure of one red-and-black clad mercenary.

“Hello, Irene.” Nate greeted her calmly. Stryfe barely nodded in her direction before taking off after Wade.

“Is there anything on my calendar for this afternoon?” he asked, not at all bothered by the destruction Stryfe and Wade are leaving behind them. No citizen of Providence would get hurt, Nate would have made sure of that; but Stryfe and Wade sure are causing some interesting and unplanned landscape transformations.

“Let me check.” Irene flipped paged through her PDA looking for Nate’s appointment table. It took her a few minutes to realize that the fighting noise have tied down, Deadpool’s annoying verbal taunts and your mama jokes included.

She looked up from her PDA and saw Stryfe walking calmly back toward his clone, Wade struggling ineffectively under the grasp of one armored arm, his mouth muffled by Stryfe’s hand.

Wade glared at Nate then turned a seemingly pleading gaze toward Irene.

“Uh, nothing. I didn’t see anything in your calendar for this afternoon.” She finally answered Nate, unsure of what’s going on.

“Excellent. Thank you Irene. You may enjoy the rest of your day off.”

Nate and his clone, his struggling bundle included, turned around in unison and levitated up into the air. Whatever Stryfe whispered to Wade calmed his struggling.

“Wait! Nate, what’s going on?” Irene asked, incredulous at the scene before her.

Nate turned and looked down at her; a familiar smirk graced his face as he nods slightly toward his clone, “we learned to share instead.”