Deadpool's Iris

Chapter 16

Iris's pov

I woke up. I knew it had to be early. It was still dark outside and hints of the sunrise casted a light orange over the horizon.

I thought back to the kiss between me and Deadpool a few hours ago. It was nice, until he lost it. It worried me and brought back...unpleasant memories. Well I guess that will forever be my memory of my first kiss. Suddenly, he started to toss and turn. He groaned.

"Give it back!" he yelled in his sleep.

I rolled over to see what he was doing. He was punching at the air with one arm.

"Give me all the chimichangas or I'll chop your head off!" he said.

I wondered if I should wake him up. Nah, he'll calm down eventually.

"I guess I'll have to scare you into giving them to me," he said.

He took his gun out of his holster, pointed it at his head and fired. He fell limp for a few moments. Then he started laughing.

"Are you going to hand them over now or not?" he asked.

He was still dreaming!

"That's it! You're dead," he said.

I turned back over. I didn't care what he did anymore. I closed my eyes.

Out of nowhere, he grabbed me around my neck, took out his knife and held it to my neck.

"Deadpool!" I yelled.

He growled and brought the knife closer.

"Deadpool!" I yelled again.

He pressed the blade against my skin. A small bead of blood slid down my chest.

"DEADPOOL!" I screamed.

"Huh?" he mumbled.

When he realized what was happening, he let go of me and got off the bed. He laughed sheepishly.

"Sorry. I sleep kill a lot," he said.

"Sleep kill?" I asked.

"It's like sleep walking except instead of walking around, I kill people. Whoops, I mean unalive people," he said.

Another strange thing about him. Well, all of him is strange. I should know that by now.

In the morning...

"Are the pancakes good?" asked Deadpool.

"Yeah. They're fine," I replied.

Deadpool had cooked breakfast for the two of us. We sat at the dining room table, eating. Peter had left early to go to college so he was gone, leaving us alone.

Things were a little awkward between us. At least it seemed that way to me. But I doubt he noticed the awkwardness. He was too busy mumbling to himself about how he wanted to screw the writer. Who was the writer?

Deadpool's pov

"Damn, the writer is so sexy. I really want to screw her," I mumbled to myself as I ate a pancake.

Iris seemed a little distant. I wondered if it was because of the kiss last night. Hopefully it wasn't.

That reminded me of what I wanted to ask her. Why had she gotten so upset last night? She was usually laid back. Why was she so upset? When we finished our breakfast, I knew it was the perfect time to ask her.

Iris's pov

"Iris?"

His voice startled me. I wasn't expecting it.