The Wolverine and Jubilee Page

Monet and the Madman

Disclaimer: All characters (except Tony) belong to Marvel Comics. I'm not paid to do this (though I really, really wish I was!).

Summary: Monet joins Deadpool for a wild night out.

Note: This story is fourth in a series I've written. If you want a better idea of what's happened between Monet & Deadpool, read "Old Flame, New Fire." I'll admit this one is a bit strange, but I felt like writing it. Enjoy!

It had been Nate's idea. Sort of. "Go out and try to have fun," he'd said. "You should get to know him better. In no time, you'll be willing to kick some evil butt right beside him."

Jubilee had agreed. "He's really not such a bad guy. He's kinda cool, once you get past the pervert on the surface. Just spend some time with him."

Sean hadn't been quite so supportive. "Be wary, lass. Wade Wilson may be unable to harm ye physically, but he's ruined many a life mentally. Keep a close eye on him."

Every sensible feeling in her body had told her to stay home. Something else told her to go out with Deadpool. Not on an actual date, of course. She never would have agreed to that. Deadpool had called it an "outing with violent tendencies." In other words, he was planning to start a bar fight.

She had expected that, though. What she hadn't expected was for Wade Wilson to change her view of him forever.

* * * * *

"It smells like vomit in here."

Deadpool adjusted the cowboy hat on his head. "That's not just vomit, M. That's 100% pure alcohol-induced vomit."

"Joy," Monet said dryly. "Why are we here again?"

"I got a tip that an old friend of mine is stopping by."

"By 'friend,' you mean someone that owes you a large amount of cash, drugs, and/or beer?"

Deadpool glared at her. "I'll have you know it's simply a matter of pride."

Monet smirked.

"Okay, so he owes me twenty bucks. It's the principle of the thing!"

"Are you telling me that I'm dressed like a Native American simply because you need money?"

"First, I don't *need* the money. Second, it's a theme bar. Third, you get free drinks if you wear a costume. So zip your lip and enjoy that martini, missy."

* * * * *

Anthony Adonis Briggs was a loser. In first grade, he'd gotten beat up every day. In ninth grade, his girlfriend had dumped him for the captain of the football team. In college, he'd flunked out in freshman year. What happened after that was anyone's guess.

Anthony Briggs was still a loser. But Wacky Tony was a crime boss with a reputation for boiling his victims alive. There was even a rumor that some had been melted down and made into candy bars. Whether it was true or not, there were never any kids near Tony's house on Halloween.

But aside from the smell of boiled human flesh, there was nothing Tony liked better than the smell of alcohol-induced vomit. Sure, it was sick, but when you were a crime boss, most people tended to agree with anything you suggested. So when Tony thought it was a good idea to visit the Way Out West bar, Tony's men thought it was a great idea. If he had known who was waiting for him there, Tony would've just stayed home and boiled his neighbor for fun.

* * * * *

"There he is, cupcake," Deadpool said, looking towards the door. "Fat and nasty as ever. I knew Wacky Tony would never change."

Monet's eyes drifted to the door, where a large group of men were walking in. Tony stood in the middle, while his troop of bodyguards surrounded him in a tight circle formation. They walked across the bar to a table in the corner.

"Shall I dispose of the guards?" Monet asked.

"Don't bother," Deadpool replied. "I'll handle it. But when I give the signal, throw your drink at me."

"What?" Monet asked, obviously confused.

"You'll see." Deadpool stood up and walked across the bar. He stopped directly in front of Tony's table, where two guards stopped him.

"Pat him down," Tony ordered.

Before either guard could obey the order, they fell to the ground with knives through their necks.

"Tony, buddy, we gotta talk," Deadpool said. "There's a certain matter of some money that you owe me."

Tony snorted, motioning for his guards to surround the mercenary. "I don't owe anyone anything. Even if I did, I think I'd remember meeting someone like you."

"Oh, really? Does this help?" Deadpool pulled off his mask.

Tony nearly choked. "Wilson?!"

"In the flesh. Literally. Now, about that money..."

"Get him, men!" Tony shouted. "I want his bones boiled into soup!"

The guards drew their guns. "Hold it right there, pal," their leader commanded. "You're not gettin' outta here alive."

"Never intended to." Deadpool leaped into air, delivering judo kicks to anyone that got close enough. He landed on the table and flipped off, driving his boots into Tony's fleshy neck. The crime boss toppled out of his chair and onto the floor, where he did his best to continue breathing.

"Open fire!" the leader screamed.

"Now, M!" Deadpool shouted.

With uncanny accuracy, Monet threw the remains of her martini at Deadpool's chest. She wasn't sure what he was planning. Then she found out.

Faster than anyone could've imagined, Deadpool whipped out a lighter and held it inches away from his chest.

As soon as the liquid hit Deadpool's chest, the material burst into a column of flames. The guards that got too close were fried instantly. The ones that were unharmed ran for their lives.

Despite the obvious pain he was in, Deadpool ignored it long enough to grab Tony by the collar. "Gimme my money, you fat bum!"

Tony threw his wallet in Deadpool's face and ran from the bar as fast as his swollen legs could carry him.

In a few seconds, the flames died down, and Deadpool snatched up the wallet. "Hmm...that's almost three thousand more than he owes me. Well, there is the decade-long interest rate, so it should be about right."

"Wade?"

Deadpool glanced at Monet. "Yes, dear?"

"How is it that you managed to have your entire costume burst into flames?"

"You pick up a few things in the merc game, M. C'mon, let's go. Sean will try to kill me for bringing you home at this hour."

Those were the last words out of his mouth before he blacked out.

* * * * *

"How is he?" Nate asked.

Monet looked up. "He's lost a lot of blood, which caused him to faint. Other than burns over 90% of his body, which should heal fairly quickly, he'll be perfectly fine when he wakes up."

"So, did you two have fun?"

Monet paused. "I think he did."

"You didn't?"

"All I did was throw my martini at him."

"And that wasn't fun?"

"That part was," Monet admitted. "But I didn't expect him to just explode into flames like that."

"So he didn't tell you how he did it?"

"No. He just said it was something he'd learned on the job."

"Paige did a scan on the material. It had been soaked in gasoline." Nate grinned. "Y'know, you haven't said one bad thing about him since you got back."

"No, I suppose I haven't." Monet tapped a finger against her lips in thought. "I just don't understand it."

"What?"

"When we left, all I wanted to do was stay home and think about how much I hated him. But now that I've seen how far he's willing to go over something so meaningless..."

"It wasn't the money, M. It was his pride. Even a mercenary has to have some."

Monet sighed. "Normally, I'd say that setting yourself on fire to collect twenty dollars from a crime lord was insane. But for some reason, I can only think of what he did as being incredibly brave."

"Why's that?" Nate asked.

"I offered to take out the guards for him, but he refused. He wouldn't let me do anything."

"You offered to do that for him?"

"Yes, I-" Monet stopped and looked at Nate. "You love being right, don't you?"

"More than you do, M. Just give him a little time, and he'll open up to you."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Call it a hunch."

"Somehow I doubt that the world's most powerful psi has mere hunches."

Nate only shrugged. "Your call. Either way, he's waking up now."

* * * * *

Deadpool was happy. He'd taken Monet out for a night on the town, collected a large wad of cash, and probably managed to impress Monet a bit. Maybe. The point was that she hadn't complained once since they'd left the bar. But then again, he had been out cold. Maybe she had complained. But she hadn't said anything to him. Yet.

The doors to the infirmary slid open, and Monet walked in. "You are, without a doubt, the craziest man I know."

"And that just makes you want me more, right?"

"I'll ignore that comment because I have something important to tell you."

"My answer's no. I'm sorry, honey, but I can't marry you. You're too young, Jubilee would get jealous, Ev might have a nervous breakdown, and Sean would kill himself. Wait, maybe I CAN marry you..."

Monet sighed. "Deadpool, I want to give you something. A gift."

"There's nothing you could give me...unless, of course, you're going to come back in a second wearing nothing but a huge red bow and that pretty smile of yours."

Monet closed her eyes, holding in another sigh. "Just take it." She pressed a small box into his hand.

"Are you proposing to me?" Deadpool asked suspiciously. "Because if you are, the honeymoon can start right now."

"Open the box, Wilson," Monet said firmly.

Deadpool slowly sat up and cracked open the small box. Inside, he found a well-polished medal that nearly blinded him, even in the dim moonlight. "What is this, Monet?"

Monet took a deep breath. "It's a medal for bravery. It used to belong to my great-grandfather, Sebastion St. Croix. He earned it in a war. It's been in our family for years, passed down to the next generation by each patriarch."

"So...why are you giving it to me?" Deadpool asked, staring at the medal. "I don't deserve this."

"You don't understand," Monet replied. "Marius was deemed unworthy of the honor, and the medal must be passed on to a male member of the family. I only had it because I was chosen to one day marry and give it to my son. That day will be a long time coming, and I want to know that someone I can trust will keep it safe."

"You're trusting me to keep this for you? Why?"

"Because I know that despite the side you present to all of us, in your heart, you are a good man, Wade Wilson. I know you would never betray my trust in you on purpose. That, and if you did, Generation X would destroy you."

"Wow." Deadpool inspected the medal closely. "Are you sure about this, M?"

"Yes. You may not be family, but I want you to be the one that presents it to your godson."

"My WHAT?!" Deadpool shrieked.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Why can't I present it to OUR son?!"

Monet frowned. "Because I have no intention of marrying you."

"Sure, just break my heart, why don't you? I guess I'm not wounded enough for you."

"Deadpool, you can say whatever you want, but I know that this honor has moved you. If you decide to thank me, you may do so in the morning. I am going to bed."

Deadpool caught her arm as she turned away. "Wait, M. I need to tell you something."

"Yes?" she asked, turning back to look at him.

"I'll do my best to keep the medal safe. You can count on me."

She smiled. "I know."

"One more thing, though."

Monet's smile began to fade. "What?"

"Since I am gonna be your kid's godfather and everything, NOW can I have a hug?"

She sighed. "Very well, but if you even think of trying anything-"

"I'll keep my hands away from the naughty places," he said, holding up a hand. "Merc's honor."

Monet slipped her arms around Deadpool's neck, being careful not to harm any of his wounds.

Deadpool slowly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. "Thanks, cupcake," he whispered in her ear.

Monet rolled her eyes. "You're welcome, Deadpool."

"Um...Monet?"

"What?"

"I can't let go. My arms are locked. I can't move them!"

Monet sighed again. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I'm serious! I can't move them at all!"

"I'm moving away in three seconds, Deadpool."

"No, don't! I mean it! You can't do AAAAAAAAAHHH!!!" He fell to the floor in a writhing heap. "The pain! GAAAH!"

Feeling a bit guilty, Monet kneeled beside him. "Are you all right, Wade?"

Deadpool cringed as her hand touched his back. "So much pain... Hurts bad... Need...morphine..." He stopped and looked up at her. "Do I need to go on, or can I pick up my Oscar now?"

Monet frowned. "You were faking."

"You win the prize, babe." Deadpool stood up. "My healing factor's better than it used to be. Anyway, I should be going. I've probably got a million jobs waiting for me back home in cold, lonely, empty, depressing apartment. Say, I don't suppose you want to-"

"NO," Monet said firmly. "Goodbye, Deadpool."

"Hey, wait! You had fun with me tonight, right?"

Monet hesitated. "I-"

"YEAH! You had fun, babe! Admit it!"

"I admit nothing."

"C'mon, you know you wanna say it. No one's gonna hear it but me."

Monet sighed. "Fine. I had fun with you, Deadpool."

"WOW! I didn't really think you'd say it, but now I feel all special."

"Weren't you leaving?"

"Oh, right. Seeya later, cupcake!" Deadpool waved as he teleported away.

Monet shook her head and walked back to her room.

* * * * *

Monet knew something was wrong when she sat down at breakfast. Everyone was looking at her with huge grins on their faces, and even Jono looked like he was trying to smile. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "What are you all smiling about?"

"This came for you today," Jubilee said, handing her a small box. "I think you'll be surprised."

Monet opened the box and peered inside. She found an old tape recorder inside, as well as a note.

"Dear Monet: Sorry I had to rush off last night, but I was really excited when you told me how much fun you had with me. So excited, in fact, that I recorded what has now become my fave phrase. I also took the liberty of passing out copies of the tapes to all your pals. No need to thank me, but if you suddenly decide to leave the team to become an exotic dancer, I'll be the guy in front row throwing quarters every night. Sincerely, your love slave, Deadpool."

Monet placed the note back into the box. Amazingly, she didn't smash the box or scream. Instead, she laughed.

"Did I miss something?" Jubilee asked.

"I think it's a result of hanging out with Deadpool for a night," Nate suggested.

"So she's nuts like him?"

Nate shrugged. "I'm a telepath and I can't tell."

* * * * *

"Al, I had a perfect weekend."

The old woman glanced at Deadpool. "That reminds me. Terry called, and she said she'll be in town next week."

"Yeah? So what? I'm much too busy for her."

Al blinked. "Wade, have you been eating the bad cheese again?"

"Al, there comes a time in a man's life where he just has to move on. Now is one of those times."

"You're obsessed with someone else, aren't you?" she asked.

"Never could hide anything from you. Sure, I'll miss Terry, but now that I've got my Algerian cupcake, everything's comin' up roses, baby!"

"Oh, Wolverine called. Department H has place a million dollar bounty on your head."

"Okay, everything but that! The point is, NOTHING could spoil this mood."

"One more thing," Al added with a smirk. "The people from Playboy called. Your check bounced, so they're cutting off your subscription."

"NOOOO!!!" Deadpool wailed in agony. "They can't do this to me! I need those girls to LIVE! I mean, how could I possibly go ten minutes without...um...reading their informative and stimulating articles...?"

Al snorted. "You get millions for each job you do, and your checks still bounce? Some things never change."

"Correction, Al," Deadpool replied, staring at the medal in his hand. "Things do change, and sometimes for the better." A smile came over his face. "Hey, I've got this really cool tape recording you just HAVE to hear..."

The End