Matt heard the man coming up the stairs. Hell, he’d heard him coming from blocks away - it was hard not to when the guy hardly shut his mouth long enough to take a breath.
So when Foggy opened the door, his instinctual greeting stuttering out into a squeak, Matt was already by his side, cane held loosely in his hands and head tilted to the side as their guest introduced himself.
Or, well, chattered incessantly about absolutely nothing related to himself.
“O - em - gee!” The man gasped, slapping his hands against his cheeks - masked, from the sound of leather on leather - and doing a little hop in place. “You guys are totally famous,” he squealed.
“We’re famous?” Foggy asked, voice pitched, hand coming to grasp nervously, a bit warningly, on Matt’s elbow.
The guy nodded his head emphatically, shooting his hand forward abruptly and making Foggy flinch back.
Matt sighed inwardly, then took a second to pretend to fumble about, knocking into the back of the man’s hand before gripping it and giving a solid shake, a placid smile on his face.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr…”
“Wade!” he belatedly introduced himself. “Wade Wilson, at your service,” he pronounced.
Matt nodded along amicably, ignoring how Foggy’s teeth kept clicking as he opened and closed his mouth while trying - and clearly failing - to say something as well. Matt took a step back, gesturing for Wade to fully enter their office. “And what can we do for you, Mr. Wilson?”
Wade drummed his fingers against his thighs, causing the blades strapped to his back and the pistols against his hips to shift slightly, and that was without bothering to go into the entire menagerie of other weapons concealed on his body. He shrugged widely, rocking on his heels. “Friend o' mine said you're some good legally loos, and I saw some of your cases - hoooooo boy - you guys are hot stuff.” He leaned forward in what had to be an exaggerated leer to add a salacious, “literally.”
Foggy spluttered, but Matt only gave another smile, turning to lead the way to the private office, cane tapping away. His co counsel sighed defeatedly, but followed, Wade trailing behind them both.
Once they were all properly situated and seated, Matt folded his hands together and set his elbows on the desk, looking in Wade’s direction. “Mr. Wilson-”
“Just Wade’s fine,” he said flippantly.
‘-Wade,” Matt corrected. “Would you care to describe your purpose for coming in today?”
Wade snapped his fingers - the sound subdued and more of a brush of worn material due to his gloves - and agreed. “Totally!”
There was a brief silence.
“Oh, you mean now,” Wade laughed boisterously, slapping the back of his head. Foggy chuckled along, albeit somewhat nervously, and Matt kept on his smile and raised a single brow. Wade’s chuckles died down, and he continued on, leather rubbing against leather with his constant, animated movements. “Well, I don’t know if you know, but I don’t really go the whole legal shmeagle route most of the time - kinda cramps my style, you get me?” - a rhetorical question, since he continued on without pause - “but anyways, there’s this whole issue goin’ on cause they’re saying I’ve merced someone that I so totally didn’t, and that’s not cool. And I have a legit alibi and everything!” The air stirred as he threw his hands up dramatically. “I had a date with some chimichangas, and lemme tell you, I’d kill anyone who got in between me an’ my chimichangas.” He paused. “But this guy’s got nothing to do with that cause he wasn’t anywhere near me or my ‘changas when he met his maker, so, it stands to reason -” he did a small aside [“-yes I know some fancy shmancy lawyer lingo-”] before getting back on track, “-that I did not perform the coup de grâce!”
“The what?” Foggy asked faintly.
“The ass-” [“HA, ass”] “-assination.”
Matt took a slow breath. Wade’s heart had remained steady - well, as steady as it was going to get - so he was more than likely telling the truth, which was somewhat unfortunate, since Matt could already feel a headache growing from being around someone with such a loud… presence. Not to mention Foggy’s still erratic heartbeat and constant side glances. Matt cleared his throat. “Mr. Wilson - Wade - would it be alright if just you and I discuss matters in more detail?” he asked, giving a subtle shake of his head when Foggy made a noise of protest. His partner clearly didn't want to take Wade as a client - which was completely understandable, for numerous reasons - and was obviously getting tenser by the second as a result of just being in the mercenary’s general vicinity.
“Ooo alone time~” Wade crooned suggestively. “Count me in.”
Foggy stood abruptly. “Nope. Yep. Good call Matt. I will. Be leaving now. Goodbye.” And he was gone with a whisk of the air, door shutting abruptly behind him.
Matt turned back to Wade, giving a pleasant smile and a spurring motion of his hand. “If you’d like to continue…?”
Wade snapped his fingers again. “You got it, Sombrero. Really, it’s a pretty suck a duck situation cause it was over in Queens so I was close-ish to the scene, right, since that’s where Rosita’s - she’s got the best Mexican food I’ve ever had, Mattie, like, to die for, I have died for - place is, and the fucknugget who bit the bullet was apparently someone important an’ a goodie two shoes at that so now the coppers and all the other fuzz are even more up my butt than usual. Which. Totally uncalled for, seeing as I didn't shoot the mother fricker. Chimichangas, man, that's all I was there for. Just the 'changas.”
Matt resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands, instead nodding his head slightly and taking a steadying breath. “This… man, who you are being accused of killing. He didn’t happen to be Thaddeus Ross, did he?”
“Yeah! That’s the sucker’s name! How’d you know!” Wade exclaimed.
Matt closed his eyes for a moment behind his glasses, then opened them back towards Wade once more. “He happens to be a highly publicized individual.”
“Ooo~ was he a movie star? I just know I’d be great at that-” [“except if it’s Green Lantern; never again”] he shuddered “-but nobody’s ever given me the chance,” he admitted with a wet sniffle. “I’ll be doomed to forever remain as a B-lister at this rate,” he lamented.
Matt decided to ignore… the vast majority of that. “Ross was a general for the United States government, largely known for pushing for the accords,” he said, the last word spit out with a bit more disdain than was strictly professional.
Wade gasped loudly. “He’s General Stick-Up-His-Butt?!” he half shouted, then let out a whiny sounding groan. “God, now I so totally wish it was me who smoked him, screw the ‘changas” he wailed.
“I’d like to advise that you keep that preference private, outside this room,” Matt said, trying and failing at not already feeling a bit defeated.
Leather moved quickly against leather. Nodding, likely. “You got it, doc! My lips are sealed. Shut. Closed. Enclosed? Latched. Glued. Stoppered. Zippered whippered. Secured under lock and key-”
“Great,” Matt hastily interrupted. “Do you happen to have any evidence proving you weren’t at the scene when Ross was murdered?” he questioned, jumping back on topic.
Wade hummed. “Well, I paid in cash, so I don’t have a receipt from Rosie’s - she’s such a doll, screams at me in Spanish every time I visit, she’s totally in love with me, the sweetheart. I told her that once and she shoved an entire enchilada down my throat. Then she gave me the Heimlich.” He sighed dreamily, then sat back upright. “But there might be cameras out front! It was just too beautiful outside for me to sit cooped up indoors - the tables were abandoned, the sun wasn't shining, the rain was pelting-" ["maybe that was hail?"] "-so just an all around gorgeous day to eat out in. Rosie totally agreed.”
Matt pinched the bridge of nose. “Wonderful,” he managed to grit out. “If you don’t mind, can I ask why you’re seeking counsel for this? I understand that you hadn’t committed this particular murder, but you do have a rather large number of others that you’ve been rightly accused of.”
Another shift of leather. “Two reasons, muchacho: One, I only go after baddies now - even the hits I take I do legit research n’ stuff on to make sure the schmuck’s got what’s coming to him and sometimes I’ll go all sneaky like an’ pull a Mr. Right-” [“Love that movie”] “-and do away with my employer too, cause, asking someone else to murder someone for you’s usually a big no no too, yeah? But, anyways, point is that I go for the baddy boos an’ not just any ol' bean, but that point’s kinda a no go here cause Ross was a piece of shit anyways. So, Two, ‘s that I’ve got a shit ton more people after me than usual now cause they think I butched their boy, which, as I have now repeatedly said, I so didn’t cause chimichoos, and I can’t spend any time with Baby Boy because he doesn’t need that kinda attention right now an' so I can’t get my fix of that shrexy spandex suit.” [“Ooo alliteration. I love those. I am those.”]
Matt felt like he was having a mild out of body experience. A sense of calm settled over him. “I understand,” he said formally, if a bit stilted. “As your attorney, I'll do my best to ensure that your innocence in this matter is upheld.”
Before today, Matt would’ve laughed right in the face of anyone who tried to claim he would be referring to Deadpool and innocence in the same sentence without some form of negation in between the two. As it was, he’d accepted his fate. What the hell, he decided with an inward shrug.
“Look at us,” Wade said happily.
“Look at us…” Matt echoed, somehow faintly amused.
“Just a pair of avocados,” Wade remarked dreamily.
Matt's eyebrows furrowed. “You practice law?” he questioned dubiously.
Wade slapped a hand on his knee. “No! Silly! I’m the fruity kind!”
Matt thought back to Wade’s ‘Baby Boy.’ Squinted. “You’re… gay.”
“No, no; I see myself more as an all around type of person, you get me? A little dabble here, a little dabble there - some brony action’s always good-”
Matt raised his hand abruptly. “Just - stop. Please.”
“Shutting up now,” Wade said agreeably.
Matt rose from his seat, Wade taking the cue and doing the same, and led the man to the office door, opening it and letting Wade step out first. “We can discuss this more in detail same time tomorrow; I’m afraid I have another client coming in soon,” Matt told him.
Wade hummed, and Foggy stood from his desk to follow the two to the front door.
Wade opened it to leave, but Matt couldn’t help his lingering curiosity, and asked, “What did you mean, then, about being an avocado?”
Wade turned back to them, clapping his hands together. “Oh! Well, Weasel, the little shit, came up with it, and I mean, he’s not wrong, even if I did threaten to do him great bodily harm if he ever called me that again, but, as a fellow avocado, it’s totally cool for you to use it, Mattie,” Wade practically sang.
“Thank… you?” Matt said, a slightly confused smile edging on his lips. “But, why?”
“Why what Mattie-poo?”
Matt winced. “Please, never say that again. And why did your… Weasel think of that name?”
“Because I look like an avocado!” Wade exclaimed, like it was obvious. Which. Was it?
Matt tilted his head towards Foggy - who’d been gaping at the duo for the entirety of the conversation - in a wordless question.
The blonde shook himself. “I’m not really sure I’m following, either,” he admitted.
“Oh boo,” Wade pouted, then immediately perked up. There was the sound of shifting leather and then Foggy made a rather concerning noise.
“Yep, I get it,” he said weakly, and Wade cheered.
Matt tilted his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing, and Wade 'awed' at him. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” he cooed, the fabric shifting back again, to the apparent relief of Foggy.
“I… alright,” Matt conceded uncertainly.
“Well, I best be off,” Wade farewelled brightly. “Toodles!”
He swung the door shut behind him with a flourish, and Matt listened as he jovially skipped away, loudly humming a faintly familiar tune.
“Matt,” Foggy’s arm suddenly on his shoulder jolted him back to the present. “Matt. What the fuck.”
“It appears… I have a new client,” Matt said faintly.
“Matt. What the fuck.”
“Did he really look like an avocado?” Matt questioned abruptly.
Foggy did a full body shudder. “Like a Caucasian avocado,” he confirmed.
“That is… mildly concerning,” Matt admitted.
“Yeah. ‘Mildly,’” Foggy scoffed. Then he fully turned to face Matt, beseeching. “Please, for the love of God tell me that you didn’t seriously just take Deadpool - the literal mercenary hired hitman actual killer mass murderery guy - as a client.”
Matt shrugged, countenance guileless as could be, and dutifully laid out his newest creed. “Avocados stick together,” he informed the other man.
There was a pause, in which neither of them said a word.
Then Matt's genuine expression cracked, and his cheeks dimpled as he grinned widely at his partner, completely and utterly unrepentant.
Foggy stared.
“I hate you,” he decidedly said.