Um, I was asked by hawkwitch,whose prompt this fic was written for, to post this little drabble here.
TITLE: Administering Educational Punishment
Pairing: Bob, Deadpool/Cable
Warnings: CRACK, non-sexual spanking
Prompt: Deadpool, Bob, spanking + Cable
Notes: Based on Way's run, vol 2, the Pirate Arc. Actually, context doesn't help much when it comes to DP.
"Mister Wilson! I mean, RAWWWKK Capt'n Mister Wilson, is this really necessary?" Bob whined from within the parrot suit as the current "pirate captain" Mister Wilson slung him over his knees.
TWACK! The stick hit him across his backside, the suit protected Bob from the worst but he did feel it. Mister Wilson was absurdly strong but he seemed aware enough to hold back a fair bit.
"Absolutely! It's educational! The Teaching Stick is a 100% certified educational method," Mister Wilson explained and preformed the linguistic feat of pronouncing capital letters. TWACK!
"Ouch. Certified by whom, capt'n?" Bob asked against all better judgement and then cursed himself for ever opening his mouth.
"Me of course! The Stick either kills you or you learn! Simple! See, you're already getting the hang of it! I wonder if I shoud'a tried this earlier? But on who? Gotta think," Mister Wilson rambled and absent-mindedly hit Bob with The Stick again. TWACK!
"Hmmm, Hayden is much more fun to eviscerate, Tasky is just to stabby to try it on, the girls are too nice o-oh,oh-o! I know!" Mister Wilson exclaimed triumphantly and delivered a hit that actually hurt. TWACK!
"AOOWW! RAWWK, I get it Capt'n, I really do," Bob whined and just hoped that Mister Wilson would soon forget what he was doing because this was humiliating even by his standards.
"You do? I mean Nate really does deserve a good educational punishing for being a putz, but was it that obvious? You never met him did you? Huh? Never mind. Nate deserves like, a bigger stick. I blame the Summer's stick-in-the-ass syndrome and all that time-travelling so made him irresponsible," Mister Wilson rambles, predictably forgetting what he was doing just like he always did when he talked about Mister Nathan Summers (Bob thought that that would be the most sensible title of the ones Mister Wilson had named, he really didn't need to know about "Priscilla"), with the exception of when he was fighting. Bob had the self-preservation not to ever, EVER, ask Mister Wilson about Mister Summers.
He was also sensible enough to sneakily crawl away (Hydra Strategic Retreat #33, ALL HAIL HYDRA!) now that Mister Wilson was distracted enough. Mister Wilson continued to talk to himself about what kind of stick would be necessary to "get through Nate's thick skull and that shiny TO mesh". Bob went to mop, err, swab the decks, he did not want to hear when Mister Wilson either got um, graphic about what he was going to do to Mister Summers or when he got depressed about Mister Summers. Both were as bad.
Bob was the one who just got hit (again, but at least this time Mister Wilson did NOT shoot at him) but somehow it was Mister Wilson he felt sorry for even if he was either terrifying or confusing most of the time. A fit of paranoia had him whistling "What Shall We Do With A Drunken Sailor?" in case Mister Wilson zoned back into the present and remembered to continue his "lesson".