I Wouldn't Call That Art (Deadpool x Agender!reader)

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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?"

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