Short Stories and Oneshots

Room of Doom and Gloom

Author: ANGSWIN 

Platform: Fanfiction.net

Type: Harry Potter x Deadpool

The Master of Death and the Merc with a Mouth are sometimes neighbors...

~~

"Hey there, Lightning Strike. Thought I heard somebody in here. Long time, no see!" the Merc with a Mouth called out the greeting in a jovial tone as he strode into the apartment next to his own without knocking or waiting for an invitation to enter. A man already sat in the sagging chair on one side of the dingy room. Therefore, the newcomer jumped up to sit on the rickety table, which was the only other available surface in the room. He swung his legs below it in an almost childlike way as he continued to speak.

"You look like shit, you know. In fact, maybe I should call you Shit Strike, instead."

"You're one to talk, Wade. At least I don't have to wear a mask because I look like I was chewed up and blown out of a flatulent dragon's arsehole," the other man replied wearily in a distinctive British accent before he yawned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. After all, it was still the middle of the night where he had just come from, even though it already seemed to be the afternoon in his current location, instead. In fact, he had to blink from the brightness of the sun that had no problem shining through the threadbare curtains which hung from the windows in the crappy little flat where he had suddenly found himself.

"Ouch, that hurts, Magic Boy," Deadpool replied as he pulled off said mask (thereby completely proving the other man's point) and gestured at his own heart, "right here." However, all traces of mock pain left his tone and face when he leaned forward in an interested manner. "Watcha doin' back in my part of the universe, anyway? Death makin' you his bitch again?"

Harry Potter sighed at the truth of it, even if he sometimes wondered if taking Wade into his confidence had been the smartest thing to do. IN his defense, though, he had been quite drunk at the time. "You would think being the Master of Death would mean something completely different – especially after I ended one of the most powerful wizards of all time, wouldn't you? But no...just because I had possession of all three of Death's Hallows at the same time and survived...all it means is that I get pulled from my own dimension into this one without warning whenever Death decides he needs a particularly difficult and evil soul to be reaped...one that his normal reapers just cant handle. In fact, the last thing I remember from tonight was that I was curled up in my warm bed with Ginny..."

"Oooh, yes! The feisty hot redhead. Give me details!" the dirty-0minded menace interrupted.

Harry just ignored him as he continued, "...when all of a sudden I was pulled back into this shite hole." He gestured around at the so-called residence where he had been dumped because Death was apparently too cheap to spring for a nice hotel suite. "No offense," he added half-heartedly as he belatedly remembered that Wade also lived at the Sunset Apartments complex full-time.

"None taken. In fact, it gets me hot and bothered when you talk all nasty and Britishy to me. Plus, you're right. It does smell like a hole full of shit around here," Wade replied with a shrug – completely unfazed by the grouchy wizard's insults as he got down to business. "Do you know who your mark is yet?"

"No, Death just cant make it easy for me and give me a photo or whatever," Harry groused before he yawned again. "Somehow, I will just know when I see him, but I'm sure that it is some super powerful and devious pain in the arse maniacal villain again..." he paused when he saw his red and black-suited neighbor preen in delight. "No, I'm not talking about you, Deadpool. I'm well aware that you are immune – even to my particular skill set! Plus, even though you don't want to admit it, you're no villain. In fact, you take out more of the bad guys than I do in either of my jobs!"

Wade pouted for a minute before he conceded. "Okay, okay, you're right. Just don't spread it around, though...and can you at least refer to me as an anti-hero? I don't want my rep to be ruined with the guys over at Sister Margaret's."

Harry snorted at the unlikely name of Wade's favorite cesspool of a drinking spot, but it did give him an idea. "Since, I'm obviously not going to get anymore sleep, why don't we get out of this godforsaken Room of Doom and Gloom and go get some of that dirty dishwater you drink, instead? Knowing the kind of people who patronize that rubbish bin you call a bar makes it seem likely that the arsebucket I need to reap could very well show up there. If you're a good boy, I'll buy...Weasel practically drools at my wizarding coins, anyway...and I may even let you help me take the evil piece of shite out whenever he shows up."

"Oh, Potty Head, you're me bestest friend ever!" Wade squealed with girlish delight at the idea.

Harry just shook his head with amusement at the man's antics. He really was one crazy sonofabitch, sometimes. Nevertheless, Harry was no longer the man that he used to be, the one who ha struggled when it came to learning how to compartmentalize his feelings as the Master of Death. In fact, he was now experienced enough to realize that Deadpool...crazy or not...was exactly the kind of ally that he needed in order to do his job efficiently on this side of the Dimensional Divide. In fact, he was even able to admit...deep down inside...that maybe Death knew what he was doing after all when he stranded Harry at the Sunset Apartments in the strange superhero universe in the first place.