He'll be here soon, you told yourself, lying on your back on a jagged pile of debris from the building that had just toppled with you still inside. Each breath taken was more difficult than the last, until you felt the stabbing pain of a lung collapsing under the strain. You could barely move, but you managed to lift your head just enough to see the thin metal bar sticking out from the side of your chest, and you wondered how you were even still awake to have to suffer through this. When you finally heard Wade's voice calling out for you in the distance, after the span of an eternity had passed, you realized that this was what was keeping you alert enough; you needed to see him first if your body decided to let you die.

"Wade," you groaned, your voice barely a whisper without the force of air needed to carry it. Your throat felt dry and burned with the dirt and cement dust you had been breathing in since you settled; it left you wanting just a simple drink of water almost more than you wanted to see your brother's face. It wasn't until you actually saw him that you realized that the water really didn't matter.

"Don't move!" Wade called out to you, fully clad in his Deadpool gear for the occasion. Even despite the leather mask covering his face, you knew the expression beneath it was filled with terror and the suit was all he had to hold himself together.

It was ridiculous of him to think that you could move if you wanted to, but you forced yourself to nod in agreement anyway, just to placate him if nothing else. He moved quickly through the rubble, albeit a bit clumsily and causing a potentially dangerous shift in the pile, but that didn't seem to be a care of his at the moment. When he made the final leap and tossed the last boulder out of his way, you hissed at the pain it caused when he dropped down next to you.

"Sorry," you whispered, "I know you had better plans today."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Wade-"

"I said, shut your hole," he spat angrily, his hands frantically searching you to see where else you were injured. "Okay, I think it's the rebar speared through your chest that's causing the problem...final answer."

"No shit."

"Hey, I'm doing my best here, alright? I'm trying really hard to not say I told you so for getting an apartment this close to that ugly llama-looking Avengers tower, so don't make me say that I told you so, alright? I'd rather not have my last words to you to be I told you so."

"You're so...subtle..." you coughed out, wincing in pain.

"Okay, enough, just please...shut up while I think..." he stopped, pulling his hands away from you to bring them to his own face, holding himself there while his mind raged and raced in a convoluted mess that left him with no answers. No matter which plan he thought up on how to move you, it was most likely to end up with you dead, so he kept ticking off option after option. "How the fuck am I going to do this?"

"Wade-"

"Shh."

"No, Wade-"

"Oh my god, seriously," he hissed, "like nails on a chalkboard, (Y/N). Your voice right now? It's screeching like EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE in my head. Please, just shut up."

"Hey, asshat, I think I heard Iron Man fly past," you argued in a quick breath, wishing you had the ability to reach out and slap the guy.

"Oh! Sweet! Good call!" He stood up quickly but carefully, beginning to scale the debris to make his way back towards the only source of light that he could find in the hopes to get Tony's attention. Normally, he wouldn't be so ready to beg an Avenger for help, particularly from Stark, but with your life so tenuously hanging in the balance, he had never wanted to beg a man for anything so much as this. He had almost reached the top when he gasped at his own idiocy, turning back to you with a thumbs up and a smile in his voice as he called down to you. "Hey, do me a solid and try not to die, okay?"

It must have been a beautiful moment of divine intervention, or maybe it was a last surge of strength before the end, but slowly and definitively, you raised your hand to him in reply, your middle finger up straight into where the light was sure to hit it best.

~~~

When you woke up in the hospital a few excruciating hours later, you didn't rouse to the soothing sounds of your heart monitor, or the gentle hums of the pumps pushing fluid into your veins. No, instead, you woke to a loud whooshing of air and a grunt of frustration, followed by a loud pop and a childish giggle. The cycle repeated several times before you finally forced your heavy lids open to see Wade at your side, sitting with a box of latex gloves in his lap. He was blowing up one after another, struggling to tie the bottom closed, then drawing what you assumed to be Tony's face on it before stabbing it with his knife.

"I'm trying to sleep, Wade."

"And I'm trying to satisfy my murderous rage for one Tony Stank."

"Why? He was the one who got me out."

"I hate his facial hair. Like, seriously, either grow a real beard like a man, or accept that your testosterone fails after a certain age."

Now you had to get a better view of his work, as your curiosity was piqued. You pushed onto your side with a hiss and whimper at the soreness that covered every inch of your body, catching a glimpse of his next masterpiece just before his blade pierced it between the scribbled eyes. "That's because you're not drawing it right, you dumbass. That looks nothing like what he has."

"Yes it does!" he argued, hurrying to blow up another glove to show you. "Watch and learn." His hands moved quickly, the black sharpie in his hand gliding over the stretched glove effortlessly to draw very sharp features and a beard that, again, was way off the mark.

"Yeah, that's still wrong," you snorted, lying back into the bed with a quiet laugh. "That just looks like a face full of pubes, Wade."

He held up his latest work, squinting at it as if he were missing some obvious detail that hadn't escaped you, but he just wasn't seeing it the same way that you were. Even turning it from side to side to allow different light to glance over his art didn't change his resolve that he was right until he had his moment of understanding.

"Oh, now I see it!" he laughed, turning the glove to face you. "It looks like a face full of pubes because THAT'S WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE ON HIS FACE, (Y/N)! Have you ever seen the luscious beard that Barnes grows? Now that's what a beard should look like! Stank looks like he forgot to wash his face after going down on a grizzly with a bad case of alopecia."

"Oh my god, there aren't enough drugs in the world for this," you quickly groaned and closed your eyes tight, trying to force your mind to believe that you were anywhere else but there. Your hands blindly searched around the edges of your hospital bed until they found the only thing you could think of to save you from the moment; after a quick press of the nurse call button, you counted down the seconds until you could find glorious relief.

"Hey, you're awake," the nurse greeted with a smile, "are you having pain?"

"Yes, it's terrible. Worst pain of my life."

"Can you show me where it hurts?"

Without a second of hesitation, your hand shot up, pointing directly at the man at your side. "It's right about here."

"Hey! That's just rude! I have been nothing but a delight, keeping vigil at your bedside while you power napped all day!"

"I had a steel bar through my chest, butt munch!"

"I had a steel bar through my chest," he mocked with a snicker, his eyes never leaving his continued attempt at art. "Wah, wah, wah. I had a knife jammed into my skull and you don't hear me still whining about it."

"Because you're indestructible."

"Oh, yeah," Wade stopped with a shrug, "always slips my mind. Must have been the knife to the skull." He finished a few final flourishes on the glove in his hand, turning it around for the nurse to see, who was clearly more enthralled in hearing your argument continue. "Excuse me, sweet cheeks, but does this look like a face full of stray pubes to you?"

"You had a knife jammed into your head?"

"It sounds worse than it was. Pubes or no?"

"Um, yeah, sure," she finally agreed, but uncertainly. When he tried to pull back and return to his work, she hurriedly stepped towards him and took the glove away to get a closer look, her eyes widening in shock. "Wait...are you trying to draw Mr. Stark?"

"AH HA!" he yelled out, jumping to his feet excitedly. "I told you! I was drawing that one like an actual downtown full of stray curlies and she thought it was him!"

"Oh my god, Wade," you groaned, turning to the nurse who was now looking at you with a new appreciation for your situation. "Could I maybe get those pain meds now?"

"Of course, I'm so sorry. I'll bring the highest dose that you can have."

"Oh, it's not that bad," you waved dismissively, "just enough to get me back to sleep."

"I know, but the rest is for me. I have six hours left in my shift and I feel like I'm gonna need all the help I can get."