Title: The Hottest Wilson of All New York

Paring: Wade Wilson X Sister!Reader

Warnings: mentions of personal injuries, police and things.

Spoilers: yes, for Deadpool (2016).

Request: yes, for Giselle19871987 

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The thing with having a hitman as a brother, was the fact that the police always thought you would be the first one he'd contact. Maybe it was because the pair of you were fraternal womb-sharers whose father had run off, whose mother had died early, who both had to scrape by on the streets to even finish school. But unfortunately for the police who were always tailing after Wade Wilson ("he's got a parking ticket to pay, or he'll be taken to court" or "this time, Miss Wilson, your brother threatened a young man with pizza and a knife").

But no matter what, Wade was in the breeze. It had been years since you'd last seen him; you heard whispers around corners of the city of a Wilson up to no good, but that was as useful as it could be until the whispers ended, and were replaced by a picture on the milk carton, Have You Seen My Brother? And the milk carton? That was replaced when a wisp of a girl named Vanessa came by, wearing all black with the saddest eyes and sadder news.

All it had taken was two and a half decades to finally get Wade W Wilson to sit down, shut up and do what he was told. And apparently, to get that to happen, it involved a grave.

January turned to February, and with the gradually melting snow, the sun waking earlier each day, you felt a little better that you were the last twin standing, and not with him in the coffin beneath the earth. You began recycling more. Playing Wade's favourite albums, including his copy of the Broadway soundtrack of Rent. You went out to work, did your job, and whenever you came across the policemen who'd always knock upon your door to tell news of your brother's bad behaviour, they would give you a weak smile. A small nod. But a small nod wouldn't bring your brother back.

Apparently, to do that, you needed to drop a vase upon your foot, spill flower-smelling water everywhere, and howl in pain at the glass shards underfoot. The window in the lounge room opened, sliding up, and then down again, and before you know it, you're lifted from the linoleum onto the kitchen bench, and a man in a red spandex suit is pushing all the pieces into a pile.

Your scream came a little too late. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?" you shriek, edging away from the guy wearing a skin-tight body-hugging suit covering his whole form. "If you're here to kill me, let me do my funeral makeup first. The people downtown are terrible at it."

The guy laughed. "_______, you have not changed one bit."

Your heart stuttered. How in all the heck in hell did this guy know you? Your name? You grab the first knife your hands land on upon the knife block, and point it toward the fiend who broke into your apartment and – cleaned up your mess? "Who are you?"

The guy sighs, standing tall, the same height as Wade did. He pulls the red and black mask up a little, revealing thin lips, and skin that looked like it had gotten into a fist fight with the sun and got its ass beaten.

"C'mon, sis, you know me." He grins, scratching behind his ear nervously. "It's me. Wade."

For a moment, you sit there, silent, noticing that your feet are slightly bleeding from stepping into the broken vase bits, noticing that the man before you is actually your brother, but apart from the fact that his silhouette – not that this suit leaves anything to the imagination – is the same that you remember of him. Slowly, he lifts the mask, above the cupids' bow, the bridge of his nose, his eyes, until it's peeled back, and fallen back against his neck like a small hoodie.

The rest of his face is scarred too.

"I know I've changed –,"

"I get it, you're a fan of the dramatics, but next time you want to freak me out, why don't you just ring the doorbell like any other fancy guest and wait? Heck, hell, Wade, you drop out of my life like you're the New Year's Eve ball, and just break back on in?" you rant. Taking a deep breath, you wipe your face, and look back at the guy before you. "I met your girlfriend, Vanessa. Came over and told me that you were missing, but we both knew that meant dead."

His eyebrows – or at least, where Wade did have eyebrows before they were burned off – raised. "You meet Ness?" He whispered. "Shit, shit –,"

You smile. "She's nice. Sounded like the two of you had something really good before..." you waved a hand in the general shape of Wade, "...you reverse deep fried your whole body. Is this a trend people are doing, like body mod, or...?"

He shook his head. "I'm ugly as heck, ______, nobody in their right mind would dress up as me." Wade took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. "I had bad cancer. And I agreed to be a guinea pig for a test company, because they said that they had a chance of a cure, and well, they just experimented on me like E.T.'s homeboys and now I look like a human scab."

You close your eyes, and then opening, stare your twin down. "Hold up. You're not ugly, Wade." You tell him.

Wade recoils. "That's all you took from that? That was the last five years, _______, and you're focusing on my body? Way to shame a guy."

"Well, you're focusing on it too, you know," you shake your head, and add, "You're still Wade, my crazy brother who basically everyone in the neighbourhood would call the hottest Wilson in New York. I know you, Wade, you're as vain as Darth Vader. And we all know what he looked like in Return of the Jedi; right? Nothing like in Revenge of The Sith." You remind him.

He sways there, considering your words. "You're right. I'm as handsome as Darth Vader, bald, and wearing a kickass ensemble."

You beam. "And if you want to stay here, you've got to promise me that you'll call Vanessa. She loves you, Wade, and going missing from people's lives isn't going to solve anything." You shoot back. "And you love her too. I can tell."

He makes a noise under his breath, something that sounds like but she'll think I'm ugly, but you're not sure. Then, in a very Wilson-esq way, he loops back, "People thought I was the hottest Wilson in New York?"