Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

I Can Hear You (Deadpool x reader)

Warning: It's Deadpool- he's gonna swear

"Yes, Mr. Stark. Yes, of course. No, I don't think we should move forward on that just yet..." you paused, pulling the phone from your ear and listening for what you thought you may have heard, but coming up empty. "Okay, yes, we can meet tomorrow. Certainly, Mr. Stark, thank you." You hung up the phone and stood, walking to the door of your office at Stark Industries, peeking out to make sure that you were actually alone. It wasn't often that you stayed this late after hours, but Tony had assigned you to an almost impossible task that required every minute of your time.

Again, you had come up with nothing as you listened, deciding that it was your imagination getting the best of you. The sound of your shoes against the hard wood floor echoed throughout the office and only reminded you how alone you were; you quickly pulled them off and threw them aside, enjoying the feel of the cool wood against your aching feet.

"What the...?" you sighed, seeing that you had received another ten messages from Tony in the short time it took you to walk from your door and back. "Well, I've slept here before, I guess I can do it again."

But there was that noise again. The security at the office was second to none, so an intruder was pretty much an impossibility, and the cleaners weren't due to arrive for another hour. Resolving yourself to find the source, you stood just outside of your office and waited to hear it again, turning towards it to follow its sound. It grew louder as you neared the small office kitchen, sounding more and more like the...microwave?

"I can hear you," you scoffed, "you're just the best ever at being sneaky."

"Jesus what the shit holy mother of fucking what?!?!" Deadpool exclaimed and jumped, dropping his plate of warmed-up food on the floor with a resounding crash of broken glass. "Oh. My. God, (Y/N), you scared the shit right outta me." He looked down at the floor and his shoulders dropped and his voice changed its tone to an almost childish whine, "aw, man. I can't eat that now."

"Well, I should hope not-"

"Or can I?" he mumbled, kneeling down to pick up remnants of his dinner from the broken shards of plate.

"Ew, Wade, no! Put that down!" you scolded, pulling his hands away. "I'll buy you something when we leave, just please, don't eat off the floor."

"What about the five hundred second rule?"

You furrowed your brow and looked at him in complete disgust, wondering exactly how many dropped meals he had eaten in his lifetime. "I'm pretty sure it's a five second rule, and even so it's a bad idea. I work in the biochem division, genius. I don't trust anything on these floors."

"Um, hello?" he scoffed. "Indestructible over here. I can eat three meals a day off of this bad boy and not get diarrhea once."

"Alright," you grumbled, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him towards the door, "you just go wait in my office. I'll clean this up quick and we can go. Just promise me, no more talk of diarrhea or any other bodily function."

Much to your relief, he skipped down the hall and left you to clean up in peace. A few seconds later it was all dashed when you heard a scream from your office. "Great, what the hell did he do now?" you mumbled to yourself as you ran.

"(Y/N), don't get mad-"

"Then don't give me a reason to be."

"I was helping with your emails because there were so many, and I might have...accidentally...answered Mr. Stark with a picture of my unmentionables."

"Wade," you sighed, rubbing your eyes in frustration, "if you're trying to give me a stroke, this is the perfect way to do it. How would you have done that? I don't have any pictures like that, or even close to that, on my computer."

"Oh yeah, I checked," he replied with growing excitement, "but get this! If I take your handy dandy phone and open up your email, I just drop the leather, aim the camera, and bam! Super penis."

"I'm so fired." You jumped when your phone began to ring, holding your hand out with a look that could kill. He quickly threw it to you and sat back in your chair, waiting anxiously for feedback on what Tony thought of his picture. "Hello, Mr. Stark. Yes, I'm very sorry. My boyfriend thought he was being funny, and instead of replying I must have forwarded it to you." You paused to shake your head at him as Tony went on, but you were suddenly jolted to attention.

"He did what?! Shit, Mr. Stark, I'm sorry. I'll take care of this right away." You hung up and hurried to Deadpool's side, grabbing his arm and pulling him from your chair. "You sent that message on purpose."

"Did not, can't prove it."

"You said, 'hey Mr. Iron Man, I've got a pretty big hammer too."

He yanked his arm away with a snort, "pfft, I'm fuckin' funny."

"You're also going home hungry."

Pushing him from your office, you closed the door behind him and gathered your things so that you could leave too, knowing that any work you thought you could get done was now all but pointless. Throwing your phone in your purse, you grabbed it and made your way to the door, jumping when his masked head suddenly peeked back through.

"Okay, fine, but tell me one thing. Did he say anything? A man likes to know where he stands." He held out his hands, moving them back and forth as if using them to measure. "Like, on a scale of Hulk to Hawk, where do I fit in? I mean, obviously, I'm shooting for Thor, but I'd be happy with Cap too."