Domino thought that she'd come home to her nice, quiet house, listen to jazz, and relax in a hot bath with pizza and vodka; don't knock 'til you try it. After that, she would finish reading that book she'd started over three weeks ago. A quiet night at home alone. Not necessarily what the mercenary wanted, to be alone, but what was she supposed to do? Get a cat and become the crazy, blue-skinned cat lady that smelled like kitty litter? Get a boyfriend? She hardly trusted her tastes. They tended to die, play games, or disappear from the timeline.

Whether being alone was what she wanted or not, that is how she'd decided her night would be. But when she walked through her front door, she got that prickling feeling someone else was lurking in the dark. She simultaneously flipped the lights on and aimed her gun at her intruder, finger on the trigger. Then she recognized the red and black clad figure collapsed in between the coffee table and couch.

"Wade, why are you on the floor? Wait, no. Why are you bleeding all over my floor? Again."

"I missed the couch. Also, you're gonna wanna fix your hallway window before squirrels get in."

"You broke my window?"

"I wouldn't say break. Shatter is more like it. Speaking of, grab some tweezers and help a brother out here?"

Domino had already walked to the hallway to investigate the damage. At the end, glass shards littered the floor, and red splattered the hardwood as well.

Wade started giggling from the living room. She didn't want to know.

The window, or rather the hole, was covered almost completely by duct tape. He must have brought that with him because she knew for a fact that there had been none in her home.

"Squirrels are really good at getting through duct tape. I can't tell you how many times they have thwar – nngah! Excuse me…my kidney just regenerated. Hopefully, it's not upside down this time."

She leaned back against the wall inside the living room, trying to force her mind to adapt to the fact that she was going to have to deal with Deadpool. One didn't simply jump into the Olympics that was handling the insane mercenary.

"I swear, Wade, every time you come here, you muck up the carpet."

"I do not."

Domino pointed to a dark stain the couch couldn't completely cover, walked over to a plastic plant in a corner and moved it, showing another stain, then picked up the three rugs spread throughout the room.

"So that's why you have such ugly, random rugs all over the place. I actually tried to clean one that one time."

"Yes, you did. With bleach," she said dryly.

"It got the stain out."

And several feet of the carpet's intended color as well.

"Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't toss you out."

"Because you secretly find me charming and endearing," he said, chin propped up on his hands, elbows on her table. Elbows connected to arms that were still bleeding, pooling red.

The blue-skinned mutant clapped a hand over her eyes, blocking out the sight. Now he's upgraded from her carpet to her furniture. Lovely. What next? The ceiling?

She winced, moving her hand back to her side, and forced herself to look up.

"I swear to Lee, Dom, the monkey did it!"

Her mouth opened, but she thought better of it and closed it. The desire to shoot him was steadily growing with each passing moment, but the futility of it was bleeding on her living room floor. It would only be a waste of bullets and more mess to clean.

"Just…go take a shower," she said finally.

"See, I would, but…" he lifted his left leg. His foot was missing. "I didn't know your neighbor had dogs until I hopped the fence. If you would be a pal?"

Domino counted to ten then dragged Deadpool by his nub of a leg and shoved him into the tub before stomping outside to get his foot. Her life at present was making Cat Lady look pretty appealing.


Domino muttered to herself, about how she needed to stop planning things and having expectations, seeing as how they all died rather fantastic deaths. She was on her knees, a bucket of soapy water nearby, scrubbing at the blood and whatever-else stains on her coffee table. She had changed into clothes that really needed that one extra reason to get rid of and the holey jeans and faded t-shirt were getting it.

Deadpool – Wade was singing a song in her bathroom so off-key she couldn't even recognize it.

"You're out of towels," he said from behind her.

"Well, if I had known I'd be havin' company then –"

She'd turned to give him a glare, but her gaze didn't quite reach his face. With no mental command to do so, her body flung itself away from Wade, luckily missing the bucket. The man simply stood there, probably feeling absolutely no shame as Domino's face became uncomfortably warm.

She dragged her eyes to his face, and annoyance flared through her at seeing the smile on his lips.

"Why are you naked?"

"Because I just got out of the shower, my clothes are all ripped and bloody, and you're out of towels? Why did I just phrase that as a question when that's the answer? I don't know. By the way, you're gonna wanna clean that hallway bathroom."

Where had she put her gun? She was convinced one shot would be worth it. Domino reached out for the closest thing to her and threw it at him. However, it was only a pillow from the couch and not nearly hard eno – She would not finish that sentence.

"You are an exhibitionist of the worst kind."

"Au contraire. The worst kind would be a fat guy. A guy so fat, other fat people look at him and say, 'Dang, that dude's fat.' A guy so fat, you can't tell if he's male or female for all of the rolls. That is the worst kind. Or second worst kind. I, however, am the best kind because I am sexy, and I know it."

"Wade. Go find pants. Put them on. Talk less."

She knew better than to tell him to stop talking altogether. He'd just talk even longer and louder about things that made no sense.

"Fine. I'm going to call it a night. Should I wait up for you, honey?"

Wade tilted his head to avoid getting beaned the eyes with the flying scrub brush, but it bounced off of the wall and hit him anyway. For the first time since she walked through her door that night, Domino smiled.

Her somewhat elated mood deflated the moment she walked into her bedroom.

"Get out of my bed, Wilson."

He peeked at her from beneath the blankets.

"But –"

"Out."

"I'll keep my hands to myself. Promise."

"Your hands are the least of my worries."

"Honestly, Dom, what kind of man do you think I am?"

Fist on hip, she started to count off her fingers. "A mentally deranged, delusional, homicidal, narcissistic, rude, insecure –"

"Oh my gosh, shut up! Rhetorical question, woman. Learn the meaning."

"You can sleep on the couch, the floor – heck, sleep in the tub, but get out of my bed!" she emphasized her point by kicking him.

He was near enough to the edge that he fell off, but Deadpool dragged her and the covers down with him. Fortunately, she landed on top of the two-hundred and ten pound mercenary. But then, unfortunately…

"WHY ARE YOU STILL NAKED?"

She scrambled off of him, shrieking.

"Well, yours were chafing the boys, and –"

"How could they possibly chafe? You wear a skin tight, full body suit!"

"Hey, that's practically a compliment. Means your skinny. Women like being told they're skinny."

She threw her head back and groaned, more from frustration than anything.

"Aw, you're just made because you like it."

"You realize this is sexual harassment?" she shook her head. "I swear, I cannot stand you."

"Eh. But you, of course, realize this is my personality, and if it really bothered you, then you'd have emptied a few clips from your guns in me and kicked me out. You certainly wouldn't have gone for my foot unless…" He waggled his eyebrows and folded his hands behind his head. "You like having me here."


Wade on her floor, Domino slept in her bed that night then went out and bought him clothes the next day.