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[The Room's Hush Hush] {And Now Is Our Moment}

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Peter knew, reasonably, he shouldn’t have gone out like this. He was a mess after MJ left him a few weeks ago, waiting for the divorce papers, he’d gotten fired by the Buggle two days ago, there was nothing left to eat in the house and garbage everywhere and to top it all, he had a cold.

But he saw no purpose to stay mopping in his now too empty apartment while crime happened in the streets, so he’d done the costume and gone out. He’d helped an old lady cross the street, stopped three muggings, and ran out of web fluid, resulting in a two-stories drop, directly into a garbage container. Of course, one of the trash bags had opened and spilled rotten food and several days old nappies over him, and there were unidentified fluids dripping down his legs.

He absolutely didn’t want to know what they were. No, rather, he would… stay here, and gaze at the pollution-grey sky above, and grimy outer walls.

“Holy shit, are you alright?” a voice asked shrilly, and he heard heavy footsteps running to his garbage container, just before a masked face interrupted his philosophical gazing at the sky. The mask was red, with black shapes around the wide, empty white eyes peering at him. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you”, he replied, harsher than he probably should have.

After all, the stranger only cared about his well-being, which was nice, especially in a city like New York. But he also had to admit he hadn’t wanted anyone around to witness his humiliating fall from grace. Well, now he couldn’t go any deeper: he’d reached rock-bottom. He didn’t feel like moving, but the masked guy – it was a guy, from how deep his voice was – would probably wonder about his sanity if he remained laying amongst trash. Trash among trash, he simply belonged.

Grimacing, he started to push himself up, sinking into the stinking piles as he tried to get a grip. The guy, thankfully, pulled back enough to let him sit up. He hoisted himself out of the container and dropped to the ground, making a disgusted noise at the sight of his costume. With a sigh, he looked up. The masked stranger was still there, and he was… well, he was a strange stranger. Clad in form-fitting red leather that set out bulging muscles on an impressive height, with the handles of katanas showing over his shoulders and guns strapped a bit everywhere over his body, he was probably one of the most unsettling things Peter had ever seen, Spiderman or not.

A maniac, probably. And Peter was out of web fluid, that was just great. The day couldn’t get worse.

Oh, wait. It could.

Before he could feel it come, he sneezed, his mask taking the brunt of it as snot just. Spread over his face.

“Great”, he said. “Just, great. Best. Day. Ever.”

The world started to spin and he took a step forward, dizziness overcoming him for a moment. The stranger reached for him with a frown.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” he asked cautiously.
“I can take care of myself just fine”, Peter retorted, stepping back and knocking right back into the garbage container.
“Sure”, the man answered, sounding completely unconvinced. “But there’s nothing wrong with needing some help from time to time.”

Peter didn’t grace him with an answer and instead started to climb the wall. He’d made it two meters high before his fingers stopped sticking altogether. His eyes widened in fear and he fell again, straight back into the container. He felt a sharp pinch to his thigh, probably a broken piece of something, and let out a long sigh. Maybe if he stayed here…

Massive arms reached for him and pulled him out of the garbage, setting him down on his feet but not letting him go.

“Alright, you’re not fine. Let me help you.”

This time, Peter snarled and wrenched himself away.

“Fuck you, I’m fine”, he bit.
“Dude, there’s a syringe in your thigh.”

Peter looked down, and there was, indeed, a syringe in his thigh. That was the thing that had pinched.

“I really don’t like syringes”, the man added, staring at it warily.

Peter rolled his eyes, which, bad idea, because everything started to spin again, and grabbed the syringe, ripping it out. The man made a sick noise as Peter dropped the syringe back into the container.

“Well, thanks for nothing”, Peter said, before he started to walk away, not trusting his body to stick anymore.

He made it as far as the end of the alleyway before the world spun around him, faster than before, until everything faded to darkness.

*

Peter woke up feeling warm and comfortable, with something cold over his forehead and his eyes, and his spider-sense strangely… calm. It had gone haywire the moment MJ left him and had been constantly buzzing in the background, but right now, he felt safe. His head was still heavy and pounding, though, but that was probably just the cold. He reached for the thing over his face, but was stopped by a hand over his wrist.

“Don’t”, a voice said. “I haven’t looked at your face, but if you touch this, I will.”

He vaguely recognized the voice as that of the strange guy whom he’d met in that alleyway. His nose, which had been runny until now, was completely stuffed, and he could only breathe through his mouth.

“Whazzapen?” he asked, feeling like his mouth was full of cotton.
“You passed out”, the voice answered, and he felt hands against his cheeks and neck. “You’ve got a severe fever, Spidey. I got some medicine, but ultimately sleeping it off is the best you can do. Here”, the voice added, gently slipping a hand under his head until he was pillowed against a muscular arm.

A cold glass touched his lips and he drank slowly – water, that soothed his parched throat. The guy pulled the glass away and pressed a pill to his lips, which he took without protesting.

“I’ll get some broth ready for you”, the guy said, laying him back. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”

Peter tried to snort and ended up chocking on his saliva, which evolved into a coughing fit that left him even more weakened. A part of his brain told him he ought to go back home, but he couldn’t even move his hand to scratch the itch he had on his stomach.

“Thanks”, he rasped ultimately.
“Don’t talk.”

He soon fell asleep again, or he passed out, at this point there wasn’t much of a difference. He was blissfully unconscious, and that was what mattered.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade was… perplexed. This wasn’t quite how he had envisioned to meet his idol. He had always admired Spider-Man, from the moment he’d seen the lithe body swinging in the streets of New York some twenty years ago, to the day he’d decided he was brave enough to talk to the man in a spandex costume. You could say he had taken his sweet time, but as the saying goes, “once bitten, twice shy”. And Captain America’s bite had been nasty enough to leave him a long-lasting souvenir.

[Stop saying that, we didn’t get bitten]

{I would have liked getting bitten by Captain America…}

[You are nasty]

“No, no, he has a point”, Wade answered.

Anyway, it didn’t exactly matter since his hero had fallen straight into a dumper, staggered out of it, only to fall back in again and ultimately pass out in a dirty puddle. It had been obvious he wasn’t feeling good, and Wade couldn’t just… leave him there, where anybody could stumble upon the unconscious hero. So he had done the only thing he could think of and charged the Spider on his shoulder, carrying him home.

“Home” was a big word for the place he’d lived in for a total amount of two weeks. It was a big apartment in what had once been a nice neighbourhood, and was now falling to pieces. It wasn’t safe, but people knew better than to be nosy, so it was perfect for him. He had bought it some fifteen years ago to make a safe house, but had never needed it before. The furniture was minimalistic: an old, worn out leather couch he had worn a hole into – yeah, no, you didn’t want to know how – and a TV set in the living-room. His weapons were stacked against the walls, and the window almost permanently open. There was a collection of bottles of alcohol in a corner, and another of empty bottles next to the loo’s door. Pizza and Chinese food containers were stacked in the kitchen, along with the greasy paper of his Mexican take-out. There was blood dried on the floor next to the couch and several bullet holes in the walls and ceiling, which he found gave personality to the place.

The bathroom was… No, better not to go that way. He had never set foot in the kitchen, and the bedroom consisted in a closet full of spare masks, materials to repair his costume, more weapons, and a grand total of three civvies outfits. There was a mattress on the ground, surrounded by a unicorn plushie that had seen better days, a pair of crocs in the most hideous tone of yellow he could find, three half-empty bottles of lube, a drawer on the ground full with burner phones, his laptop with that cute Hello Kitty sticker on the camera, and a photo of himself with Vanessa… before.

[Your place is a complete mess and you know that.]

{Sure but LOOK AT WHAT WE GOT}

He looked at what he got: Spider-Man sleeping under all the blankets he could find in his hovel of an apartment, a surprisingly clean washcloth over his eyes. The costume was still in a pile next to the bed, though Wade had considered taking it to the laundromat.

So, yeah. Not quite the meeting he had envisioned BUT he’d gotten to look at Spider-Man and. His suit hadn’t left much to his imagination, which Wade had plenty.

[Oh that you sure do…]

{Remember that time we imagined how it would feel to peel our skin away? Now that was realistic imagination!}

He didn’t answer Yellow’s taunting and finally decided to go to the grocery store a few meters away. Vegetables… he shuddered at the fact, but because he treated his body like the trash it was didn’t mean Spidey was the same. The guy needed to get his strength back, and only good food would do that. It didn’t take him long to buy a bit of everything, and even some meat – you could put meat in a broth, right? Right. He could always Google it – to put in a hot broth.

Spider-Man hadn’t woken up yet, but his skin felt less hot than before. It was a shame, though. Instead of being able to talk to his idol, the guy was unconscious with a fever!

[It’s not like you’ve ever been lucky, you know.]

{You’re the reason Murphy’s Law is a thing. Except it should be called Wade’s Law. Because you always fuck things up.}

“Hey, I am making hot broth and so far I haven’t cut myself, set fire to the kitchen or provoked any other kind of accident!” Wade replied with false cheer as he peeled the vegetable and cut them up in chunks.

He had found a recipe that seemed nice and easy enough, and ordered some pizzas for himself. No way in hell was he drinking that. Plus, it was for Spider-Man. Once the broth was done, he put it in a thermos to keep it warm – he did like having hot coffee at hand, sue him – and resolved to wait by Spider-Man’s side for him to wake up. His fever had abated some more, but he still slept with his mouth wide open.

There was nothing like a Beretta to the mouth for a stuffy nose, but Wade seriously doubted Spider-Man would appreciate the fact. Being dead and all, breathing wasn’t exactly a problem anymore.

[You are an idiot, you know that?]

The pizzas arrived and Wade dove in while Spidey slept his misery away. There was nothing left by the time the guy twitched again, waking up.

“Hello Sleeping Beauty”, Wade crooned. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, actually”, Spider-Man answered. “Thank you.”

He started to sit up, and Wade helped him, lifting a pillow so he could lean on it. The washcloth started to slip, and Spider-Man slapped a hand to his face to keep it in place.

“Hang on, I’ll get you-” Wave rummaged through the wardrobe and found one of his new, clean masks, which he handed to Spidey. “Go on, I’m not looking.”

Spider-Man pulled it over his head until the top of his face was covered.

“This… This is not my mask.”

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Peter took off the washcloth over his eyes and blinked in the dimly lit room, quickly pulling the mask on before he could get caught barefaced. The guy with the weird suit was sitting on the ground next to him, and Peter realized three things: one, that he was naked under the covers. Which was a given when he took off his suit because he went commando under it. Two, that he was sitting on a mattress on the floor in a very messy… bedroom. And three, that the mask he had just put on wasn’t his. He blinked through the weirdly small white lenses, so unlike his own, and realized the guy had given him one of his.

“This… This is not my mask.”
“Well yours was absolutely disgusting, and that’s coming from me! I figured you wouldn’t want to put a snot-covered mask over your face. It’s not hygienic, or so I’ve heard, and- Shut up Yellow, I’m talking! What was I- Yeah, no, I haven’t cleaned it yet and-”
“No, no, don’t bother! Really, thank you for… all you did.”
“It was nothing”, the guy replied. “Here, drink that. You need food to heal.”

Peter took the thermos the red-clad man had handed him without turning back and took a sip.

“You can turn, you know. I might be indecent under here but the important bits are covered.”

The guy snorted and turned on his ass, smiling gleefully.

“And all these years I thought Spider-Man was too morally good to go commando under his suit, oh how I was wrong! It was a surprise- Yes a good one, you whackjob, of course it was a good one! And yeah no I totally did not stare it’s not like your suit seems to be a second skin but AmAZinG bubble-butt, by the way.”

Peter couldn’t stop his smirk as he sipped at the broth – which was good but in a weird way – and listened to that kind maniac babble away.

“Underwear ruins the line of my suit”, he replied. “Also it is highly possible I don’t have any left because I totally forgot to do my laundry.”

He had no idea why he’d just admitted that, but the guy seemed to be even more of a slob than he was so he could hardly judge – or maybe even care.

“Happens to the best of us”, the guy replied with a shrug.
“By the way, how should I call you? I mean obviously you know I’m Spider-Man, but I have no idea who you are.”
“I’m Deadpool”, the guy replied. “DP, the Merc with a Mouth, Wade, your #1 fan, but for you bubble-butt, it’ll be Daddy.”

Peter knew he tended to word-vomit when he got nervous or cornered but this guy? This guy clearly beat him. Clearly and plainly. And he casually just admitted his name so he probably didn’t have a secret identity going on.

“Uh. Kinky”, Peter replied. “So… Wade. Thank you for your help, and the food, and the good company.”
“Don’t you kink-shame me Spidey, you’re the one swinging around with bondage material! This ass should be illegal, really.”
“…Why are you obsessed with my ass? It’s a bit creepy, you know?”

That seemed to shut up Deadpool – for a good five seconds, at least – but when he talked again, it was to mutter, and he was obviously not talking to him. So either DP wore an ear-piece under his mask or he was talking to himself.

“Of course it’s creepy, how did I not realize? Yellow you’re not fucking helping right now- White please, please just shut the fuck up!”
“A-Are you alright, ‘Pool?” Peter asked as he finished his meal.

He was hungry still but he really doubted his stomach would support more solid food. And he didn’t feel good enough yet to web it through the city, which meant taking the metro. In his trash-smelling and yucky-doused suit.

“Fuckin’ peachy, Webs! I mean, there’s a gorgeous guy- an amazing spider! – in my bed naked, why wouldn’t I be fine?”

Peter chuckled.

“Red-nosed, smelling like trash and all sweaty-gross, yeah, who wouldn’t want that?” he replied.
“I figured it would be uh… weird to wash you while you were unconscious”, Deadpool replied. “If you feel fine, though, you can take a shower. You do smell, Spidey.”

Peter smiled. It had been a while since he last spoke to someone, and Deadpool was a kind, funny guy.

“Help me stand so if I fall I don’t crash”, he said, holding his hands out.

In an instant, Deadpool was beside him, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet.

“Ew, wait a sec”, Peter said as everything started to roll around him, his hands clenched over the leather of Deadpool’s costume. “Okay, I’m stable again.”

He noticed Deadpool was looking down, to his body: the sheet had fallen down and he was standing naked there. Under the mask, he quirked an eyebrow.

“Does the sight of my nude body offend you?”

Deadpool remained silent for a long time.

“This should be a criminal offence”, Wade muttered.
“Alright, move it. Where’s the bathroom?”

At this point in his life, Peter couldn’t care less that he was shamelessly standing naked in a stranger’s bedroom, waiting to be able to take a shower. And, to be perfectly honest, it had been a while since anyone looked at him… like this. Looked at his naked body with awe and… desire? Things with MJ had stopped being physical a while ago – a sure way to know their relationship wasn’t exactly floating anymore, but slowly sinking. Alright scratch that, it was the Titanic and MJ was Rose – devastated but alive – and he was Jack, sinking down deeper and deeper in frozen water.

So, yeah. Wade was staring and it was quite flattering. But also he was freezing his ass off despite his fever and, through the leather, he could feel how warm Wade was. For a second, he considered wrapping himself into the other man’s hold, but then deduced that Wade would probably have an aneurysm and die. He’d have his death on his consciousness then, and that would suck. He let go of Wade’s arms and peeled his hands off, wandering into the next room and stopping short on the threshold.

His bedroom was a mess too after MJ left, so he had assumed it was kind of the same thing for Deadpool, but this?

“Dude, you live like that?”

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade didn’t care that he lived in what was basically a giant dumpster. Hygiene was important if you cared about health, and it’d been a while since he last cared about that. But he had never expected Spider-Man to see that, and now he had to admit he was kinda flustered to admit how much of a slob he was to his hero.

“It’s a wonder you’re not deadly intoxicated yet”, Spider-Man went on.

Ah, yes. Spider-Man didn’t know about his healing factor. This explained that.

“Are you concerned about my health?” he asked, tilting his head.

[Idiot. He’s concerned about his.]
{No one cares about you, otherwise you wouldn’t live like this}, Yellow said snidely.

“Who wouldn’t be concerned?!” Spidey replied, flapping his arms around like a headless chicken. “This is really unsanitary, you know! And all those weapons, that can’t be safe! You could provoke a major explosion, and-”

He stumbled and Wade hurried to catch him before he could fall.

“You’ve worked yourself up and now everything is spinning, uh?” Wade chuckled. “Leave my… living accommodations alone and go take a shower. You seriously stink, Spidey.”

Wade grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, along with a surprisingly clean towel, putting everything in Spider-Man’s arms and pushing him into the dingy bathroom. Spidey didn’t protest and minute later, the shower was on. Wade sighed in relief and looked back at his… “home”. He was so used to the mess he didn’t notice it anymore, but now that he was trying to see it through Spidey’s eyes… Yeah no okay this was bad.

{What are you doing?}
[Isn’t it obvious? He wants Spidey-boy to be proud of him!]
“Damn right, Whitey!” he answered as he put on some music and got down to work.

He opened a giant trash-bag – the type he usually used when he had to dispose of a body, which was rare. His type was more of leaving everything behind for someone else to deal with or blow the whole thing up. It turned out it was also a good thing for actual trash. Two full trash-bags later, he realized it would take more time than he had thought, and Spidey was taking really long to shower. He couldn’t blame him, though: the guy could hardly stand. The mounts of trash, once taken away, had revealed giant stains of grease, mould, rot, and even some blood he had never bothered to clean. He wasn’t exactly sure this was better now.

[Before it looked like you were just a giant slob. Now it looks like you murder people in there.]
{We do murder people}
[But not HERE. He’s the only one dying here.]
{Maybe don’t blow your brain out where it’ll stain?}
“So what, are you suggesting I put a protective plastic over the place I’ll shoot myself?”

“Uh… Maybe, don’t shoot yourself?” a voice suggested, and this was a new one.

Deadpool whirled around to find an adorable Spidey floating in his clothes, the mask still pulled down over his face.

“Spidey!” he squealed. “OH-EM-GEE, you look so cute like this!”
“Cleaning this place up will take a few days at least”, Spider-Man replied, completely unfazed. “And I seriously doubt you own cleaning supplies.”
“Cleaning what?”
“Exactly my point”, Spider-Man said, and Wade could hear the grin in his voice.

{Wishful thinking!}

“Also… I don’t know, maybe you’re aware, but there’s a grenade in your shower. I thought for a second it was one of those ‘super manly’ shower-gels with weapon-design encasing…”

Wade’s brain supplied him with a vivid image of a naked Spider-Man in his shower, freaking out over the grenade in his hand, and burst out laughing.

“You didn’t pull the pin, did you?” he asked breathlessly.
“If I had I don’t believe you’d be asking this question”, Spidey pointed out. “Why do you have so many weapons, by the way?”
“I like ‘em”, Wade replied with a shrug.
“That’s fair”, Spider-Man admitted. He shifted uneasily, and then nearly crashed as he lost his balance.
“Alright, back to bed with you”, Wade declared, holding him up and guiding him back to the bedroom. “You need to rest. Sleep, if you can. Does medicine work on you, or would getting more be useless?”
“Don’t bother, I’ll sleep it off”, Spidey mumbled. “Thanks.”

Spider-Man was sleeping before his head hit the pillow and Wade lifted his mask just enough to expose his mouth and nose, so he could breathe easier.

{You’re turning soft.}
“It’s Spider-Man!” Wade protested in a hushed voice.

He backed away, leaving the hero to sleep his cold away, and resumed his winter-cleaning.

“It’s funny how much trash we accumulate over time”, he quipped.
[Well you know what they say, ‘birds of a feather flock together’.]
{You are so smart.}
“Uh, excuse you, the only reason White can be smart is because I am smart. You should compliment me instead.”

That afternoon, the boxes were chatty, as usual, but somehow they weren’t as mean as Wade expected of them. Not that the boxes were nice, but sometimes, they were… tolerable. Wade ended up sleeping on the couch, his feet hanging off one end, with a room a quarter of the way to “decent”. He woke up mid-morning, his mouth dried up from being open while he slept. He groaned as he sat up, and noticed the bedroom’s open door. Spider-Man was nowhere to be seen, but there was an ad on the mattress – for the Mexican joint that had opened two months ago, Wade hadn’t gone there yet. A note was scribbled on the back, almost illegible from the tight writing. Apparently, Spidey wrote lots and lots.

Thank you again for your help. It was incredibly kind of you and I really appreciate. I was feeling good enough to go back home this morning, so I went because I didn’t want to crash at yours for too long. I have my suit with me, along with the mask and clothes you lent me. I will bring them back once I’m feeling better, so don’t move out in the meantime! Your friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man. OH-EM-GEE he’s so unbelievably cute! Man, I think I’m in love.”

[Well aren’t we fucked.]
{Shut up, White! Spidey is abso-fucking-tely fabulous.}
“Damn right, Yellow!”

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Peter had spent most of his week in bed either sleeping or watching dumb movies, too sick to do anything else. He already missed Wade’s hot broth, and the thought of needing to find another job disheartened him. But finally, after a week, he was feeling good enough to resume his Spider-duty, and thus meeting with Wade. And he fully intended to tackle the awful living conditions of the weirdo who had saved him. He had washed the lent clothes and put them in the worn backpack he used when he needed to swing around the city with a change of clothes at the ready.

Wade wasn’t home when he knocked at the window, and the living-room was a mess once more. Peter ogled the massive machine gun on the table, and the grenades-full rucksack on the ground next to it. There even was a pink handgun laying in several pieces on the ground. Peter hadn’t bothered researching weirdos in red onesies, because usually he was the one turning up in the results, but faced with the disaster apartment once more, he couldn’t help but think maybe he ought to have researched him before.

Sighing, he fell back onto Plan B, in case Wade wasn’t home, and pulled a stick-notes pad and a pen from the front pocket of his backpack. Where are you, he wrote on the first. I came to give you your clothes back but you weren’t home, he wrote on the second, sticking both on the window. Call me when I can come by again, the third claimed. The fourth had his phone-number, because Wade could have watched his face and yet he didn’t and that… that counted for something. Your Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man, he added on the fifth with a little Spidey doodle.

Slinging the backpack on his shoulder once more, he jumped from the fire-escape he had landed on and webbed his way towards crime. Now that his mind wasn’t fever-addled, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the strange things surrounding Wade. Like, the weapons. Or the absolute lack of clean space in that hovel. Or the hot broth. Wade looking at him.

He sucked in a deep breath. He was taking his divorce with MJ pretty hard. First because, obviously, he still loved her. She had been by his side almost all along. And second because, well, she had always been there. He could come back home from a long night being Spider-Man, and know she would be there. Know she was his and he could tell her about the amazing or irritating things he saw on patrol. She had been his best-friend – his only friend – after Aunt May’s death, and now, Peter was… alone. Life as Spider-Man had always been kind of lonely, but now it was… void. And those two days at Wade’s? It was like the man had been breathing life back into him. He didn’t want to lose that, wasn’t sure he could afford to.

So, yeah, he totally could have webbed the backpack to the window, but then he’d have lost his excuse to see the man again and the thought physically pained him. Maybe he was going mad, who knew? Groaning, he decided he needed to know at least a little more about Wade. He doubted he was a villain, but still. What kind of hero had so many weapons? Sitting on a roof, he pulled his phone out from his inner, hidden pocket – in the inside of his thigh – and did a search on the internet with “Deadpool”. He found a twenty-five years old TV journal about a man dressed in red who’d caused a massive traffic jam on the highway and left not less than fifteen corpses in various states of gore. The man caught on video looked suspiciously like Deadpool, as the article suggested.

There was an article from Insides, a now discontinued newspaper hardly trustworthy that apparently dealt a lot with conspiracy theories and cryptozoology, but Peter read it anyway. It was about a mercenary dressed in red leather who worked with katanas and explosives, a mercenary who, ironically, couldn’t exactly be bought, for he only took the mission if he was interested. He was called “the Merc with a Mouth”. Peter vaguely remembered Wade using these words, and even if he hadn’t, this could clearly describe him.

The third was a Tweet from twelve years ago with a Tinder profile screenshotted. The photo was of a crotch clad in red, a handgun clearly mimicking a dick and Peter couldn’t stop himself from snorting. Lame. Still, he could clearly recognize the style of Deadpool’s costume. Curious, he clicked on the Tweet. ‘Oh my God I matched with Deadpool????!!!!' it said. ‘Update: so now I know why he’s called the Merc with a Mouth’. ‘Update: and it’s for the reason you think of.’ ‘Update: I still can’t believe I came from his words and voice alone it was so hot.’ ‘Update: noooo DP has deleted his profile!’ It was the last Tweet from this account and now Peter was a bit worried.

Maybe Peter shouldn’t have searched because now he was even more confused. There was surprisingly little intel on the guy, especially since he walked around in red leather. But if he really was a mercenary, there would be more information on the dark web, and Peter couldn’t access it from his phone. Also, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know – or at least, not like this. Gosh, what kind of mess had he put himself into? Sighing, he put his phone back in place, webbed the backpack to an otherwise inaccessible vent and went back to his heroing duty. It was, all in all, a normal night in Manhattan.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade had cleaned up a bit more after Spider-Man left, but as the days passed, he’d lost his drive. Spider-Man had wanted to be kind, but he wouldn’t really come back. He would probably web his things somewhere Wade would find them, and that would be it. So Wade had abandoned cleaning and gone to Sister Margaret’s to get a job. Said job had been a complete mess and he’d gotten his ribs crushed. He’d done it, of course, but he still had to reset his bones right to help his healing ability to kick in. He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the dark shapes coming from his window where the artificial light hit it, and looked up to see a smatter of little sticky-notes all over his window.

“What the fuck”, he mumbled, stumbling to the window and gasping, wheezing, his everything hurting like a bitch.
{Yeah, Wade, since when do we get sticky notes on our window? Is there a serial killer on the prowl we should be aware of?}
[If it’s a serial killer, they’re in for a surprise] White grouched.

Wade sucked in a breath when he recognized Spider-Man’s messy scrawl. He had come back after all. He had come back and left him his freaking phone number?! He was hallucinating, there was no other way. He quickly thumbed the number in his personal phone – as opposed to the burners he used on the job -, pulled out a gun and, after removing his mask, swiftly shot himself in the head.

When he came to, there was blood and brain matter everywhere on the floor and even some on the couch, and he was still clutching a sticky-note with a phone-number in his hand. The phone number still hadn’t disappeared. Not a hallucination, then – cognitive recalibration usually made them stop, at least for some time. The other good point was that there were no voices. Just… the calm of his own mind. Which was currently whirling with confused thoughts.

 

To: Baby Boy <3
Daddy got your message, Spider-Boy
K for real I wasn’t expecting you to come back
You sure you didn’t hit your head too hard on that trash container?

 

He threw his phone aside and scrubbed his face. Spider-Man had come back here. Willingly. The guy had been burnt into his retina ever since they met. Of course Spider-Man was fit, but what he’d discovered was beyond his dreams. It had definitely made it into his fap-folder, especially Spidey standing naked with his Deadpool mask on, like a wet dream come true. He eyed the mess he’d made. He ought to clean this.

His ribs reset painfully and he finally was able to take in a full, deep breath. Marvellous. The place smelled horrible – of fresh blood and gore, of course, but also of passed food and rotten things. He might have thrown the trash out a few days ago, but there was no getting rid of the smell. He grimaced, thinking about moving out already. The place was trash anyway.

His phone dinged loudly and he jumped in surprise, before he grabbed it and opened the text he’d just received. As he did so, another came in. As he read the ID, his heart started to beat faster.

 

From: Baby Boy <3
Plz stop calling yourself Daddy. If anyone is to be called Daddy, it’s me.
I have your clothes. And your mask. Washed them. And a promise to keep.

 

To: Baby Boy <3
Kinky. I like it.
My memory can be really crappy, remind me what you promised?

 

From: Baby Boy <3
To help you clean that hovel you call a home. It’s a surprise you haven’t blown yourself up on a grenade yet, or died of tetanus.

 

To: Baby Boy <3
First of all, how dare you. Second of all, I have. Blown myself up on a grenade. Got vaccinated against tetanus, though.
I kind of have a healing factor, you see.
Like, really, reaaaally strong.
Like, in an immortal, can-never-totally-die way.
If you catch my drift.

 

There was a long silence from Spider-Man and Wade grabbed leftover pizza in the fridge, eyeing the remainders of a taco that was developing an ecosystem of its own and thinking that maybe he should clean that. That was nasty.

 

From: Baby Boy <3
Sorry, had to stop an assault.
Alright ‘Pool, cards on the table: you’ve got your schtick, I’ve got mine. No biggie. But you’re fun to hang around with. And your place is trashed so I’m not staying over until it’s clean.
And no this is not a date.
Won’t be a sleepover either.
Not yet at least.
God plz stop me from rambling.

 

To: Baby Boy <3
SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL A SLEEPOVER? Will we braid each other’s hair and put on nail polish?
Come by any time, baby boy
<3
…or did you mean a sleepover [side-eye]
[eggplant, eggplant, water]

 

From: Baby Boy <3
GROSS, WADE
I can’t believe you made me read this with my own two eyes
I can’t unsee it now, ugh

 

To: Baby Boy <3
You were warned, bb :P

 

From: Baby Boy <3
[picture: Spider is giving him the finger]
Gtg

 

Wade looked at the time: three in the morning. Spider-Man was rarely out after four, so he was likely going to sleep. Not a bad thing, Wade considered doing the same thing. He was wrecked anyway. Scratching his stomach, he pulled his suit off, put the photo Spider-Man had sent as his profile picture after a second of thought – he would put another once he’d have a better one – and fell back on his bed. Healing exhausted him. He closed his eyes just for a second.

*

When Wade opened his eyes again, it was bright outside and Yellow was whining about the sun burning their eyes. He fumbled for his phone and squinted at it: 3 p.m. And messages?! He quickly swiped to get a look.

 

From: Baby Boy <3
We should agree on some time I can come by.

 

Received at 9 a.m. Wade grimaced.

 

From: Baby Boy <3 [Received: 11:15 a.m.]
I got a lot of free time btw
Aside from being the Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman
So just let me know

 

From: Baby Boy <3 [Received: 1:30 p.m.]
I’m being clingy, aren’t I?
It’s the spider thing.
I’m SUPER clingy.

 

From: Baby Boy <3 [Received: 2:54 p.m.]
Plz if you don’t want me to come just tell me to go fuck myself
I’ll web your things to your window and you won’t have to see me again
Just, idk, don’t keep silent like this bc it’s driving me mad

 

To: Baby Boy <3
BABY BOY I’M SO SORRY
I FELL ASLEEP
I’m clingier than you tho
Would never ghost U like this bb boy

 

From: Baby Boy <3
Oh. Sorry, I panicked a little bit out there.

 

To: Baby Boy <3
Don’t worry about it
You can come by now if you want?
I can make pancakes

 

From: Baby Boy <3
Not in that kitchen you won’t
Also I have patrol tonight

 

To: Baby Boy <3
Alright no pancakes then
I’m the King of Pancakes tho, you’ll regret it
Ooooh can I come with you? Pretty please?
I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour
And you won’t need to save me whatever happens
I’d love to see you work <3

 

From: Baby Boy <3
K I’m coming over rn then
We’ll see
It’s not abt u, I’m just used to working alone

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Peter put his suit in his backpack, where Wade’s clothes already were, as soon as he received his text. He had been pacing through his apartment with nothing to do but try to find another work and panic. He had applied for a teaching position that seemed promising, and sincerely hoped it would work out. He threw on a pair of old sweatpants and a shirt, both in such a state that he wouldn’t mind if they were irrecuperable from his stunt in Wade’s apartment. Along his backpack, he had a bag with cleaning necessities and he couldn’t help but think his apartment needed some cleaning too. How hypocritical of him.

Once he had everything, he opened his window, pulled his mask on and webbed his way through the city to Wade’s apartment, which was not that far, actually. He found the man leaning against his open window, wearing sweats too, along with gloves and his mask, not leaving an inch of skin exposed. Peter had no gloves but at this point he didn’t really care, since Wade had seen his naked bod. He landed with nearly no sound on the rickety stairs and gave Wade a two-fingered salute.

“Wade, my man!” he said, letting the grin filter in his voice.
“You got here faster than I expected”, Wade replied with surprise and pleasure lacing his voice, pushing away to let him drop in.
“Here are your things and- Oh my god is that a brain? Yeah that’s definitely brain matter, oh god.”
“It’s uh- It’s mine, don’t panic”, Wade replied hurriedly. “Immortal, remember?”
“But why is your brain on the floor?!” Peter asked, fighting off nausea. “Oh fuck, it’s gross. Not the first time I see something like this, of course, but the gore always gets to me.”
“I may have blown it out”, Wade grimaced.
“You do that often?” Peter asked, taking in the different, older stains on the walls. His question wasn’t really one and more of a statement, but still. “Usually I’d be all for cleaning the pipes but this seems… a bit overboard, if you catch my drift.”
“Well it’s not like there are consequences, you know. Just gives me a bit of silence, shuts the boxes up for a while.”

Peter eyed Wade and let out a soft sigh.

“Alright, let’s get started. First, everything that needs to be trashed, in the trash bag.”
“You go about things in the wrong order, buddy”, Deadpool grinned, pulling out a speaker and his phone. “The first thing is: put on some music to shake that booty to.”
“I’m not shaking any body parts”, Peter deadpanned. “But, yes, you’re right. Music.”

He regretted almost immediately as Wade belted:

“HEY, YEAH, I WANNA SHOOP, BABY!”
“I should have expected that I guess”, he sighed as he started to stack the accumulated trash in the bag Wade had opened.

He realized with dawning horror that Wade knew the lyrics by heart, but it was countered by his wild “booty-shaking”, as he called it. Peter couldn’t help but ogle it – what, it was there, in his line of sight, perfect and muscular and moving rhythmically, how could he not- the same way he could hardly take his eyes away from Wade.

Once all the rubbish was trashed, the place felt bigger. Wade had emptied his fridge, which had started to develop its own ecosystem, before he decided to simply throw it out and buy another. Given the number of banknotes they’d found laying around, that Peter stacked neatly in a corner, tying them in wads of a thousand dollars, he definitely could afford a new fridge. Probably a whole damn penthouse if there were any more of these. Peter paused and took a good look at the site: as he’d thought, there was no way they could clean everything in one day.

“Getting tired, Spidey?”

Peter jumped: Wade was incredibly close, and his spider-sense hadn’t even reacted. That was worrying.

“That was so cool”, Wade breathed, craning his neck up to look at Peter, who was stuck on the ceiling.

Fuck, how embarrassing. It hadn’t happened to him in nearly ten years. He gracefully dropped down, landing lightly and soundlessly on his feet, a hand on his heart.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he protested. “I was thinking we could stop here for today. We won’t get everything done in a day, and it’s about time I start patrol.”
“Sure”, Wade nodded, and Peter sighed as Deadpool’s shoulders visibly dropped.
“You still want to come with?” he asked, and Wade perked up immediately, which he took as an answer. He let out a laugh and turned his back to the man. “Suit up and hop on.”
“I don’t know if it escaped you, Spidey, but I’m like, way bigger than you”, Wade protested as he disappeared in his bedroom.
“Hop on”, Peter repeated once he’d come out, all dressed in red.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade eyed Spider-Man’s lean figure, pausing a long time at his backside, and gulped. Technically, he knew the man was strong. He’d stopped a train, lifted a car effortlessly, and casually swung himself from building to building. He had to be superhumanly strong. Still, he was like half a foot smaller and probably just as many pounds lighter. Wade was ridiculously huge next to him.

“Alright”, he said, jumping on Spider-Man to grab onto him koala-style.

He wrapped his legs tightly around his waist, most of his weight resting on his hips, his arms wrapped around his torso. Spider-Man barely moved under his added weight, only shifting to secure his hold over him.

{Oh I think I just came a little.}
[Yeah I have to admit this is kinda hot.]

Wade shuddered and nuzzled into the hero’s neck, who froze under him.

“What. Are you doing?”
“Hiding my blush, Spidey”, Wade replied in a girlish voice. “You are so cool!”

Spider-Man snorted in disbelief and Wade wondered who had made him feel like he wasn’t. And then, he jumped. Wade had jumped from buildings quite a few times, rarely able to catch himself on something and more often than not ending up splatting on the asphalt. But it was the first time he wasn’t the one who jumped, and he let out a high-pitched scream that turned into a whoop of joy when Spider-Man sent a web and they were suddenly soaring through the air.

“Gosh you just destroyed my ear”, Spider-Man complained, shaking his head.

{We could destroy something other than his ear too…}
[We could break him in half!] White added gleefully.
{Actually I was referring to his a-}

“Next time we can destroy your ass”, Deadpool said before his brain-to-mouth filter could stop him.

He would have face-palmed if he hadn’t been holding onto Spidey for dear life. Surely, the hero would chuck him down right now, or maybe because he was a hero, he would set him down on a roof and never see him again.

Spider-Man laughed.

“Alright, Daddypool, talk dirty to me, that won’t distract me at all”, he replied, still cackling as they swung through the streets of New York.

Wade nearly lost his grip and fell to his untimely death, luckily Spidey had apparently expected it and he caught him in a firm grip.

{I have died.}
[You sure talk a lot for a dead man.]

“Did you just…?”
“Call you Daddypool? Yeah, I did. You asked for it, didn’t you?” Spider-Man said, turning his head slightly and even without seeing it, Wade was sure the guy was smirking.
“I’m starting to believe I have finally managed to die and somehow gotten to heaven.”
“Daddypool”, Spider-Man susurrated seductively, and Wade felt his brain fry.

The flirting stopped brutally when a high-pitched scream of absolute terror rang through the air and Spider-Man had a full-body shiver.

“I assume this is a signal for your D.I.D.?” Wade asked as Spidey turned sharply and dropped several stories down.
“Let me guess, Damsel In Distress?” Spider-Man replied.
“Damn, you really are perfect. Like I’ve made you on the Sims”, Deadpool sighed.

They landed on a rooftop near the scream’s origin, smoother than Wade expected, and Spidey perched himself on the edge, looking down into the narrow alleyway. Deadpool peered down as well, all instincts at attention.

“Deadpool, tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing”, Spider-Man said with an edge to his voice.

A woman was scrambling backward, her mouth open in an expression of complete horror, as two misshapen humanoids forms staggered towards her. They had that slouched, dragging pace movies usually depict, and Wade scrubbed at his eyes. He was quite often subjected to hallucinations, but this was… new. One of the humanoids wore a dress stained with crimson, the other nearly toppled over on high heels.

“Zombies?” Deadpool said, really hoping this was an hallucination. “Don’t touch them, Spidey.”
“Marlene, Sophia!” the woman cried out, looking around wildly but ultimately staring at the two ‘zombies’.

Spider-Man swung down, soaring above the two figures and catching the woman and bringing her to the rooftop where Wade was still perched, observing the zombies as they slowed down with an horrible gurgling noise, stopped and collapsed in two pile of bones wearing clothes in the mere time it took Spider-Man to come back with their victim.

“Are you hurt, ma’am?” the hero asked as Deadpool crouched, not wanting to overwhelm the poor woman.
“Marlene and Sophia, they… No, it’s impossible, they can’t be, I…”

She looked at her trembling hands and, her eyes rolling back, lost consciousness. Spider-Man carefully lowered her down and looked back into the alleyway, where only the bones and clothes remained.

“They decomposed that fast? There really is something wrong here.”
“The question is: what turned Marlene and Sophia into zombies”, Wade said, straightening. “Is it contagious, and if yes, how? I can’t die so I don’t really care, but you’re not as durable.”
“Don’t you dare-”
“Too late” Deadpool called with a grin as he vaulted from the roof to the emergency stairs on the side of the building and scaled it down quickly.

[Show-off.]
{But if we help and impress Spidey we might get in his pants~}
“Shut up, you two, I’m trying to think here”, Wade grumbled as he approached the piles of bones and clothes.

There still was a bit of rotten flesh onto it, and it smelled horrible. There were blood spots on the ground, where the zombies had lost some meat, and Wade followed it back to its original point.

{Yummy.}

Sophia and Marlene’s handbags had been dropped on the floor a few meters farther, apparently in reaction to their flesh hastily decaying. A little vial, in pieces, was the closest thing to a starter Wade found. His ruffling through Marlene’s things told him what he suspected: she was a heroin addict, all the material for an injection shattered in her bag. Except it probably wasn’t her usual drug in the broken vial, but whatever killed her and her friend. He ruffled in the pouches of his belt to find a small plastic bag and carefully dropped the broken vial inside. He didn’t have what it took to make analysis, but he knew people. Spider-Man would be sensible to that, wouldn’t he?

[In your dreams. Your “acquaintances” would scare most people.]
“But Spidey is not most people!”
{No, he would feel compelled to arrest them all. They’re criminals, Wade. Like you.}
“Now that’s just mean”, Wade whined. “Spidey”, he called afterwards, “I’ve got something! Also I’m not actively dying… or rather, more than usual, which is great!”

“Does that mean you’re passively dying?” Spider-Man asked as he warily approached, eyeing the pile of bones. “Gurck, this is absolutely disgusting.”
“Does our damsel in distress have track marks?” Deadpool asked. “I don’t think I saw any.”
“Track marks?” Spider-Man replied crouching beside him. “No, I didn’t see any… You think whatever did this” – he pointed at the bones – “was in their drug?”

Deadpool nodded.

“Sophia and Marlene apparently both did drugs, and if… Olivia”, he said after opening the third bag “didn’t, and happens to be the only one who wasn’t contaminated, it is highly probable that’s how they got contaminated.”
“I can analyse the sample, I think”, Spider-Man said, looking at the broken vial in the plastic bag. “Determine what it is, how long it takes to act, how it’s transmitted…”
“You’re a nerd?” Deadpool asked, rising an eyebrow.

Spider-Man opened his mouth, closed it, and Wade would have sworn that under his mask, the hero was blushing.

“Well, technically I’ve got a PhD in biochemistry, so I guess I’m not that bad at science.”

Wade squealed.

“You are a nerd! It’s adorable.” He dropped the sample in Spider-Man open palm and looked back down at the bones. “You take Olivia to the hospital and warn the police, I get rid of all this mess before someone else catches the cooties.”
“I doubt cooties have anything to do with that”, Spider-Man pointed out. “We keep in touch, I update you ASAP”, he added as he started to climb up the wall, grabbing the still unconscious Olivia before he swung away.
“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave, Spidey!” Wade yelled.

Laughter answered him and Spider-Man disappeared. Wade turned back to the disgusting bones.

“Now, what to do with you?”

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Olivia woke up mid-way to the hospital, in the arms of the famous Web-slinger. It was a struggle not to drop her when she started to screech in his ear, but eventually she calmed down and he entrusted her to the medics. After that, he went to the police station, were he had his contacts, thank you very much, and explained what had happened. He wasn’t actually surprised when even his contacts didn’t believe him – he himself had trouble believing what he’d seen – but he would have thought, after twenty years protecting the city, that they would grant him some credit. Apparently, he had no such luck.
His apartment felt… way too empty when he finally got to it. And way too messy. He was tired and upset and cranky, which didn’t make for a good mix. He only took the time to put the vial on his desk-slash-lab before he dropped on his bed and fell asleep, still in costume.
He woke up mid-morning to a text from Wade.

 

From: Daddypool
You want some pancakes? My kitchen is clean and I’m in a cooking mode.

 

Peter smiled sleepily and typed his answer.

 

To: Daddypool
Sounds great, actually. Coming over right away.

 

He took the time to shower, smiling to himself at the thought of seeing Wade. He pulled on an old, ragged pair of jeans that MJ had wanted him to throw away ages ago – and now he was never going to – with an old shirt adorned with an atrocious “how do you count cows? With a cowculator” half erased, a present from Aunt May when he was still a teen. He shrugged his old coat on and clasped his web-spinners around his wrists, grabbing his mask on his way out.

Public transport took him as close as it could, and from there he walked up to Wade’s apartment, pulling his mask on once he got in sight. He heard the man singing way before he was at his door and smiled as he obviously poured his heart in the song.

“Suddenly, I'm feeling brave / I don't know what's got into me / Why I feel this way…”

He knocked, doubting the merc would hear him over the ruckus he was making, and opened the unlocked door.

“Can we dance / Real slow? / Can I hold you / Can I hold you close?” he sung as he entered, as loud as he could, and there was a clang in the kitchen as Wade rushed over.
“The room's hush hush / And now is our moment”, they sung together, and Peter smiled under his mask, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t smiled like this in… well, years.

Wade wore civilian clothes, just like him, but he had a flowery apron on that said “kiss the chef”, and Peter was tempted to do just that.

“Spidey, you look like a hobo. No offence.”

Aaaand there went the moment. Down the toilet.

“I’m feeling very offended right now”, Peter deadpanned.

Wade grinned under his mask, and Peter couldn’t stop himself from smiling as well.

“I like your apron”, he said, taking off his coat and putting it on the couch. He looked at the floor: Wade had vacuumed, apparently, so he took off his shoes as well, leaving the ragged baskets in the entrance.
“MY PANCAKES” Wade shrieked as the smell of burnt dough reached them, running back to the kitchen.

Peter followed, sniggering, and paused at the kitchen’s door: they hadn’t finished cleaning it the day before, but apparently Wade had had a very busy morning. Or probably the whole night; the kitchen was spotless. A small wooden table, under the table, was set for two persons. Coffee brewed in a new coffeemaker, its rich aromas tickling Peter’s nose, and metallic boxes of tea were stacked on the worktop. The place felt a lot warmer now, and Peter relaxed. It felt lived in, it felt… homey.

“Sit down, Spidey, it’s ready”, Wade said, stacking the last pancake atop the tower he’d made.

He brought Canadian maple syrup and an array of jams, before he asked Peter what he wanted to drink. Peter’s heart swelled at feeling taken care of. In the last months of their marriage, MJ had been too tired, too resentful. Without her, now that Aunt May was dead, Peter had been alone. For the first time since he moved out of their place, Peter didn’t feel so alone.

“Thank you”, Peter said, emotion filtering in his voice.

He had the feeling Wade felt the same.

“My pleasure, Spidey”, Deadpool replied with a wink.

Peter rolled his mask up to his nose, taking a whiff of deliciously smelling pancakes, and opened the jar of rose jam. He had never had a chance to try, it sounded weird and he was feeling adventurous. Wade was pouring an alarming amount of maple syrup on his stack of pancakes, but he stilled brutally when he reached for his fork and knife. Peter had been about to put some pancake in his mouth, but he stilled as well, lowering his fork.

“Wade?”

He looked at Wade’s mask-covered face, and realization set in. He had never seen Wade’s skin: his hands and face had always been covered, even when he was in his civvies. Since it wasn’t a matter of secret identity, it meant Wade was uncomfortable about something in his appearance.

“How are the pancakes?” Wade asked in a strangled, falsely cheery voice.

Peter ate his bit of pancake, sighing as the flavour hit his tongue. They were simply perfect.

“They’re the best I’ve ever had”, he answered. “You’re an incredible cook, ‘Pool.”

Wade seemed to preen at the praise, and Peter pointed at his pancakes with his chin.

“Why don’t you try them yourself?”
“I’m not hungry”, Wade replied.

Peter lowered his cutlery, staring at him, before he finally put them down with a clank. Wade seemed to shrink in under his gaze, and to think that such a gentle man was so ashamed about his physic made his stomach churn with anger. He was tired, so tired, of injustice and cruelty.

“Don’t lie to me, Wade”, he said in a low voice, is tone dangerously soft. “We both have our secrets, but please don’t lie to my face.”

Wade squirmed in his seat and finally let out a groan.

“Don’t look at me like that, Spidey, it’s totally unfair!” He huffed, threw himself against the backrest of his chair and crossed his arms, sulking. “I wanted to be cool for you”, he whined.
“And you’re doing great”, Peter smiled, “but it would be even cooler if you ate with me.”

There was a long silence as Wade stared at his plate, his fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on his dark blue t-shirt. Finally, he opened his mouth to talk.

“You’ll feel like throwing up if I roll my mask up”, he said after a moment. “My skin’s… Freddy Krueger had an illegitimate child with an avocado.”

Peter almost snorted in laughter at the description, but he managed to hold it back.

“I’m sure I can handle it”, he gently said. “C’mon, I don’t care about how your skin looks like. Told you, you’ve got your schtick, I’ve got mine. I just want to eat breakfast with my new friend.” He paused. “If you’re really uncomfortable, I can turn on my chair.”

Wade huffed and shook his head.

“Well, you know where the bathroom is if you feel the need to throw up”, he said jokingly, grabbing the bottom part of his mask and pulling it up over his nose.

Peter took in a breath, waiting.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

[You know that if you do that, he’ll leave and never come back again.]
{We can say goodbye to that ass} Yellow moaned.
[He’ll see how much of a monster you really are.]
{It’s written on your face.}
Please please please SHUT UP.

Wade inhaled, his trembling fingers grabbing the bottom half of his mask. He’d known Spider-Man would see his face one day or another, but he had hoped he would get to spend more time with the guy before it happened. He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

[Who are you trying to kid? You’ll never be ready.]
{Yeah, because you’re just that pathetic low-life everyone hates.}
DAMMIT, will you shut it you two?!

He freed his chin, his mouth, his nose, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the disgust pulling Spider-Man’s mouth into a frown. When he heard no sudden chair-scrapping, gagging or any other sound of the absolutely disgusted kind, he opened his eyes slowly. The hero was peering at him, his mouth set into something… pensive. He couldn’t tell what he thought, not when Spider-Man had his mask on.

“Your skin is like that because of your regenerative power, isn’t it?” Spidey finally said, breaking the awful silence.

Wade nodded, chocking on air. Spidey wasn’t running for the hills. Not yet. Spider-Man’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile.

“Thank you, Wade.”

And he picked up his fork and knife, cutting himself another bit of pancake which he chewed with an obscene sound of pleasure. Who, beside him, made that kind of sound when they ate?! It sounded like a bad fanfiction where people moaned on their food because it was just that good. He did it, because he was Deadpool and so he could, but Spider-Man?

“Gosh Wade, your pancakes are to kill for.”
“Now Spidey, you’ve got a reputation to maintain”, he replied in a light tone, even though he felt like his chest was going to burst open from the overwhelming joy and relief.

Now reassured, he tore into his pancakes, ravenous. After getting rid of the bodies – or rather, the bones – the previous night, he’d come home and thought about Spider-Man. About the perfect body barely hiding under that spandex suit, those graceful swings, that PhD in biochemistry because Of Fucking Course Spider-Man was a nerd, about that mouth sinfully calling him Daddypool, and his luck to know all of that. He’d tried to flush it out of his system quite handily, only to find himself wired and horny in a half-cleaned apartment. So he’d done the next best thing and cleaned up the whole kitchen so he could invite Spidey to eat.

And his Baby Boy was currently eating pancakes he’d just made, stuffing his mouth with obvious and obscene pleasure, dressed in a ridiculous t-shirt and a worn-out pair of jeans. Comfortable and warm, despite the mask half covering his face. He eyed the jaw with a five-o’clock shadow chewing forcefully, the long, strong and yet bureaucratic fingers curled around the cutlery, and finally paused on a detail he hadn’t noticed the previous time: on Spider-Man’s ring finger, there was the clean tan mark of a long-worn wedding ring. He had taken the ring off, and from there it wasn’t difficult to guess he’d either lost his spouse and finally made his grief enough to take off the ring, or… divorced.

Wade had always thought Spider-Man was the kind of guy who just… had his life together. But the more he got to know him, the more he realized the hero was just a man. Confused, hurt, broken… in many ways just like him. Strangely, he wasn’t disappointed, but rather, relieved. Spider-Man, no matter how much spider he had in him, was just a man. A man with full, pouty lips that whispered sinful things and a soft smile and a happy, loud laughter. No, Spider-Man couldn’t be divorced, because who could let go of such a man?

“That’s it, ‘Pool, I’m hiring you to be my cook”, Spider-Man joked, and Wade grinned.

He leaned back in his seat, having finished his pancakes, and licked his lips for a few drops of syrup. Spidey’s small movements, and the surprised jerk of his hand, didn’t escape him as the man openly stared at his mouth. He wondered what Spider-Man saw – he knew what he would see in his shoes: a gross old man with an avocado face who couldn’t even eat cleanly. But apparently Spider-Man and him didn’t agree on that, so… what did the hero see?

[Ravaged skin and teeth white and sharp.]
{Rosy pointy tongue to curl around his…}
DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT FINISHING THAT SENTENCE.

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Peter couldn’t stop himself from jerking his hand when he realized he’d been staring at Wade’s mouth for way too long. It’d been too easy to imagine how he might taste – pancakes and sugary syrup – or how his lips might feel like under his own – bumpy and textured and unfamiliar but probably incredible – or how he’d love to feel this tongue licking into his mouth and taking him apart piece by piece. Deadpool moved, leaning back to reveal once again his “kiss the chef” apron, licking his lips more sensually now, and Peter flushed because his staring apparently hadn’t been subtle.

He liked the way Deadpool looked at him. He’d known for a long time – to be fair, since the early days of his relationship with MJ – that he wasn’t straight. Guys totally did it for him too, and Deadpool was… well. Better not dwell too much on that. But the thing was, Deadpool looked at him and it did things to him, things he’d thought dead a long time ago. It seemed he had been very, very wrong. Slowly, he rose from his chair and stepped towards Wade, who backed his chair at his approach.

“I intend to thank you for your pancakes properly”, he said in a voice lower than he’d meant to, “so if you don’t want me to now’s the time to say it.”

The lenses of Wade’s mask went wide when Peter bent towards him not so subjectively, leaning down to align their faces. Had Peter been braver, he would have sat in his lap – but he wasn’t, not Peter. Spider-Man was brave, Peter Parker was a dastardly coward. Wade didn’t move, still like a deer caught in the headlights, and Peter was now close enough to feel his warm, sugary breath fan out over his face. Gently, his bare fingers touched Wade’s jaw – he was still amazed by its perfect shape -, feeling the bumps of his skin, and its incredible warmth. Wade was apparently constantly running a fever, which considering his mutation wasn’t that surprising.

Peter looked at Wade and, seeing no adverse reaction, closed his eyes and the last few centimetres parting their lips. He had intended it to be gentle and soft, no more than a press of their fleshes, but Wade let out a sigh like he was finally breathing again, parting his lips just enough. Just enough to be too much and not enough. Gloved fingers skimmed against his jaw, to his nape, not controlling him but pressing into his skull with force. His tongue darted out, licking along Wade’s lips, and Wade’s grip tightened on him. It was all the encouragement Peter needed, feeling in Wade’s desperate kiss a loneliness so much like his own, a craving nothing but Wade’s lips could sate. The kiss turned firmer, Peter slowly setting out to explore and map out Wade’s mouth – and the man welcomed him, guided him in his visit and invited himself past Peter’s lips.

They parted, their foreheads still pulled flush together, breathing deeply to regain control over themselves, wondering what the hell had happened.

“Wow”, Peter breathed. “That was even better than the pancakes.”
“What’s happening to us, Spidey?” Wade asked, his voice soft and close to broken.
“I don’t know”, Peter replied, not moving back. “Are you scared?”
“Of fucking course I’m scared”, Wade replied.

Peter smiled and opened his eyes, gazing at his reflection in the white lenses of Wade’s mask.

“Me too”, he confessed. “That’s what the mask’s for.”
“It’s too good to be true”, Wade whispered. “It’s been a while since I last had an hallucination, but damn if this one isn’t fine.”
“I’m not a hallucination”, Peter replied, finally daring to drop his weight into Wade’s lap. “Kiss me again”, he added in a scared whisper, “maybe we’ll figure out what this means.”
“It means the author’s a damn meanie”, Deadpool replied, but he eventually complied and cradled Peter’s face between his hands, so careful in his moves Peter wanted to laugh. “You’re heavy, you know”, he added, sounding surprised. “I knew you were, I carried you, but usually hallucinations aren’t that… physical.”

Peter snorted.

“Shut up, Wade, and kiss me.”
“Oh yes, order me around, Spidey-daddy”, Wade grinned, and Peter rolled his eyes, fisting his hands around the harness on his chest to pull him into a kiss.

It was easy to let his mind go blank when he was kissing Wade, he found out. There was too much to focus on to let him think about anything that wasn’t the merc’s warmth, his lips’ texture, the gentle and yet passionate glide of his tongue, the pull of his teeth, the muscles shifting under him as Wade moved his hands from his face to his waist.

“Wait”, Wade gasped, “wait, wait, is this for real? Like, really for real? You really kissed me?”

Peter chuckled and rubbed his thumb against Wade’s full bottom lip.

“Yes”, he purred. “I really kissed you, and I really loved it.”
“That’s what a hallucination would say”, Wade said with a nod. “But as pleasurable as this is, I’m not overly fond of hallucinations, you see.”

Peter only managed not to fall because of his spider-sense, which made him send a web to the ceiling and pull himself up just as Wade brutally stood up, his chair clattering to the ground, and stomped to the living-room.

“Wa-Wait, Wade, what are you doing?!” he asked as he crawled towards him.
“Recalibrating”, Wade replied, charging his Beretta and bringing it to his mouth.
“WADE”, Peter screamed, throwing his web just in time to redirect the gun from his mouth.

The shot exploded the window and Wade stood there with his mouth open, staring at Peter through the white lenses of his mask.

“This is not an hallucination?” he asked in a small, scared voice.
“WHAT THE EVER FLYING FUCK, WADE”, Peter bellowed as he jumped down and grabbed his harness again, shaking him like a tree.
“You’re angry”, Wade said. “On my behalf?”
“Blowing your brain out is NOT a solution, shithead!” Peter growled, his heart hammering in his chest.

Yes, Wade was immortal, but still, it had to hurt. His heart slowed down, squeezing tight in his chest, and he gasped out a loud sob. He couldn’t do this – couldn’t watch as the one good thing in his life tried to destroy itself, again and again. It hurt too much, to think about how much pain Wade was in that he readily, easily shot himself just for some peace. To recalibrate. Before he knew it, he was crying, just like he’d done after the divorce. And all the days that followed, until he’d reached a point where the emptiness was bigger than the pain. Where he had no more tears to cry.

That seemed to trigger Wade out of his trance, because suddenly there were big, muscular arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and he had his head pulled into Wade’s own shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Spidey, I never meant to make you cry”, he said in a low, soft voice that rumbled in his chest.
“You were going to kill yourself”, Peter sobbed, his fingers clenched on Wade’s sweatshirt.
“Not forever, Baby Boy. Just for a few minutes, I know how to time my blows.”
“B-But you would have been dead”, Peter sniffled. “And I would have been alone again, and I c-can’t” – his words blurred together in his tears – “I can’t do that again, I can’t lose someone else. And y-you… I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Wade’s fingers slid under his mask, over his nape, and rubbed at his scalp and at his locks, warm and comforting. They stood like this for a few minutes as Peter calmed down, wondering what was going on in Wade’s head. Was he just as confused as he felt? Probably. Slowly, he pulled his head away from Wade’s shirt, that was wet with his tears and maybe some snot, who knew. He’d always been an ugly crier. Wade’s thumbs wiped the tears, or rather tried, only spreading the wetness on his cheeks.

Wade kissed him.

His lips soft and closed, brushing against his own in a gesture of comfort that had none of the previous passion. Peter sighed against his mouth, finding his feet again in Wade’s presence – warm and glorious.

“What was it that you called me?” he whispered.
“Baby Boy”, Wade replied, a grin spreading on his lips.
“Lame”, Peter snorted. “I like it.”
“Baby Boy”, Wade repeated, slightly stepping away. He came back with a tissue, with which he wiped Peter’s cheeks.

What was he doing? He barely knew Wade and he’d already crossed so many boundaries, it made no sense. But the man had a way of making him feel important… like when he looked at him, he didn’t only see Spider-Man. He saw Peter Parker, too, despite not knowing his name. It was rare enough to be valued.

His phone rang, making the both of them jump, and he hurriedly pulled it out of his pocket. He took in a sharp breath when he saw the caller ID, and held up a finger.

“I need to take this”, he said, and Wade stepped away, giving him some space.

While Deadpool cleaned up the kitchen, Peter took the call, breathing to calm his nerves.

“Hello?”
“Mr. Parker? This is Mrs. Hartford, Headmistress of Midtown Junior High-School. I received your application for the chemistry teaching place. Would you be available on Monday, at 9 am, for an interview?”
“Monday, at 9? Yes, Mrs. Hartford. It’s a pleasure.”
“Perfect! I’ll be seeing you on Monday, then. Goodbye, and have a nice day.”
“Thank you for the opportunity, Mrs. Hartford. Goodbye, and a nice day to you too.”

Peter closed the call with a trembling finger and took a deep breath. His little cash supply was drying up quickly, especially since he’d been sick in bed for a week. It was high time he got some good news, job-wise.

“Do you like dogs?”
“What?” Peter asked, taken by surprise.
“Do you like dogs, Spidey?”
“…Yeah”, Peter replied, suspicious. “Yeah, I like dogs.”
“Good”, Wade said with a nod, reappearing from the kitchen.

He had finally taken off his apron and was wiping his hands on a dishcloth. Peter let out a heavy sigh at the sight, and snatched it out of his hands with a web. He couldn’t not be sensitive about that when Aunt May had constantly drilled into his mind that this was the dishcloth, and this was the hand-towel.

“Wade”, he tutted. “You do not wipe your hands with the dishcloth. That’s not hygienic. Don’t you have some hand-towels?”

Deadpool stared at him like he’d grown a third head, and finally let out a barking laugh.

“Alright, Spidey, if you say so.” He gestured with his chin. “Do you have something planned right now?”
“…No”, Peter admitted.
“Alright then, put on your hobo coat and your shoes. There’s something I want to show you.”

Peter tilted his head, curious, but complied immediately.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade’s mind was a mess. It was usually a mess, actually, but now it was somehow worse. Spidey had kissed him. Several times. And stopped him from putting himself in time-out. And cried. IN HIS ARMS. Yellow had been screaming non-stop for close to ten minutes now, and White was having an existential crisis. Wade himself wasn’t exactly sure about what was going on, but he didn’t want Spider-Man to go yet. To ever go, if he was being truthful, but that seemed a bit like wishful thinking – or sequestration, your pick.

He ruffled through a drawer until he managed to find a bandana and two surgical masks. Keeping a mask for himself, he gave the other two to Spider-Man and swiftly disappeared in his bedroom to take off his mask, put the mask over his face and draw his hood far over his eyes, hiding himself in its shadow. Outside, Spider-Man had stuffed his mask in one of the worn pockets of his coat, tied the bandana around his head, pulled his own hood over the whole, and hid the lower part of his face behind the surgical mask.

Still, Wade could perfectly see wide, doe-like brown eyes. Marked by lines that betrayed Spidey’s age, and a tiredness only super-heroing could bring about. And yet, there was a warmth to his gaze, a gentleness that shook Wade to his core. Spider-Man, no matter how bitter and angry, cared. He cared, and that was what made him so cool in Wade’s eyes – in a world where most were not actively cruel, but indifferent. Spider-Man had the gaze of good people who got out of their way to help. People who suffer with others because they’re just that empathetic. The corner of his eyes crinkled and Wade knew the spider was smiling.

“Let’s go”, Wade said with enthusiasm, grabbing Spidey’s hand and threading their fingers together.

Spidey didn’t let go.

Even when they reached the street, he kept his hand firmly lodged against Wade’s, who was very glad he wore gloves, otherwise Spider-Man would have known how much his hand was sweating. They walked for barely five minutes before Wade pushed a door open, Spidey hot on his heels – to be fair, Spidey was always hot.

“…What… What are we doing here?” Spider-Man asked, looking around the animal refuge.

The employee had already recognized Wade, and before Spidey had time to ask again what exactly they were doing there, they were back with a dog. A sand-coloured golden-retriever, who wagged its tail excitedly when it saw Wade.

“That’s my girl”, he greeted her proudly as he crouched. “Hello, Allie”, he added in a soft voice, scratching the dog’s head and ears. “Let me put your harness on you and we can go for a walk.”

Gently but efficiently, Allie obeying swiftly, he clasped her harness over her back, and then connected the leash. She softly bumped Peter’s legs with her head, and he pet her curiously.

“Mr. Wilson”, the employee called. “Stanford is also available…”

Wade perked up.

“Oh, bring him in then!” he replied. “Here, you take Allie, I take Stanford”, he added for Peter, handing him the leash. “She’s a sweetheart and he’s a rascal, so it’s best if I hold his leash.”

The employee disappeared again, but this time, they heard mad barking before it stopped, and they walked in struggling to bring the dog with them. Wade firmly grabbed the leash and gave a long, good look at the muzzle, making sure it was correctly strapped. Spider-Man had taken a step back, surprised or afraid, Wade didn’t know. Stanford growled, low and threatening, and Wade clacked his tongue.

“Stanford.”
“Have a good walk, Mr. Wilson!” the employee called as they walked back outside, but with two dogs.
“What the hell just happened”, Spider-Man said.
“We’re walking the dogs!” Wade replied cheerfully. “The refuge doesn’t have enough employees to walk all the dogs daily, so they rely on volunteers to help. I’m sponsoring several of them, but Allie and Stanford are my favourites.” He pointed to Allie. “She won’t walk for long. She’s eleven already, which is pretty good for a golden, but it’s wearing on her. The arthritis makes it hard on her joints.”

For now, Allie’s tongue was lolling out as she looked at Wade with adoration. It was why he’d fallen for her, two years ago. Stanford pulled on his leash and he held on tight.

“Stanford, calm down!” he said.

The refuge had gotten Stanford six months ago. It were six months during which they’d tried to get him to adopt the dog, because he was the only one who could get close enough to the dog, or whom he obeyed… once in a while. He was a six years old Tibetan mastiff, raised to be an attack dog and as such, labelled as a weapon. It was actually Wade’s fault the dog was without a master anymore, and also why Stanford was still alive, despite the good number of people who had wanted him to be put down.

“You do this often?” Spider-Man asked, the curiosity in his voice obvious.
“At least once a week”, Wade admitted. “Often more.”

Wade guided them to the park, Spider-Man following easily.

[This is a bit too domestic for you, isn’t it?]

“Do you have anything new on our zombie-case?” Wade finally asked, dropping his voice.

Spidey shook his head.

“I didn’t do the analysis yet”, he replied. “What about you?”
“I have a few sets of eyes watching for intel”, Wade said. “I was about to go for a report today… Do you think you can come along and not arrest everyone on sight?”

The hero paused and stared at him. Under his hood, Wade couldn’t see his eyes, but he could imagine the questions behind them. He distinctively heard him take a deep breath, and slowly let it out.

“Alright”, he replied. “Just this once.” He paused, and then asked: “Wade, I need to know though. I saw the weapons and the money. What is your deal?”

{Wait, he doesn’t know?}
[Is he stupider than we thought?]

“You don’t know?” he asked, cocking his head.
“I… I’d rather you tell me yourself than find out on the dark net”, he replied. “You’re not selling roses, I’m not that dumb. I just need to know…”
“…what you can condone, and what you can’t”, Wade replied with a nod. “Yeah, I expected something like that. You’re in for a big disappointment, Spidey. I’m a mercenary. A hired killer. I kill people for money.”
“You are not what I expected”, Spider-Man admitted. “So, here is the deal: while we work together, you don’t kill anyone.”
“What about maiming?” Wade asked, dejected even though he had expected something like this.
“…Only under extreme circumstances”, Spider-Man replied.

That actually surprised him.

“I expected a flat-out no.”

Spidey looked away, keeping silent for a moment.

“I’m… no longer the man I was when I started”, he said. “The young me would have been appalled. I know how fights can be, and the world is not as black and white as I wanted to believe.”

{So many surprises in one day.}

Wade camped himself on his feet and stared at the hero.

“What you’re doing his great. You saved countless lives, which is astounding. I have so much respect and admiration for you, I could squeal like a little girl just thinking that you talked to me.”
“You did”, Spider-Man quipped, and Wade heard the tiny smile in his voice.
“I’ve always thought… I complete your work. I stop the bad guys that prison can’t stop. I end vicious circles that your morals forbid you to.” He held out his hand, the other still firmly wrapped around Stanford’s leash. “Think we can be associates?”
“Friends”, Spidey replied, clasping his hand in his. “Associates don’t eat home-made pancakes together on a Saturday morning. Friends do.”

{Welp. Wade’s gonna tear up now.}
[It was kind of moving… IF THIS WERE A ROMANTIC COMEDY! Wade, you remember? Your life is the equivalent of trash horror meeting dramatic tragedy.]

“Friends?” Wade repeated quietly.
“Not yet”, Spider-Man admitted. “On our way to be, though. It’s like dating, but for friends.”
“Friend-dating”, Wade snorted. “Baby boy, you have weird ideas.”
“Please tell me the nickname’s not gonna stick”, Spidey said, his eyebrows going up under his hood, and god did Wade love how expressive these eyes were.
“I like it. Daddypool and Baby Boy, out there saving the world.”
“SpideyPool”, Spider-Man blurted out. “If we have to mash our names to make a team, it should be SpideyPool.”
“OH-EM-GEE”, Wade squealed, “did you just find us a ship-name?!”

Spider-Man sighed and Wade knew he’d won the jackpot, for once. He followed by throwing his arm over Spider-Man’s shoulders, holding him close as he laughed. The man didn’t pull away nor tense, and after a second, Wade relaxed and tightened his grip a little bit.

“When are we going to see your… contacts?”
“Tonight”, Wade replied. “Meet me at 7 p.m. tonight, I’ll text you the address. And uh… I’ll give you one of my masks. They will all clam up if Spider-Man walks in, you know.”
“I am very frightening, I know”, Spider-Man replied with false seriousness, puffing up. Even like this, he still only reached up to Wade’s shoulder. “I’ll work on that analysis in the meantime”, he added with a nod. “I’m wondering how long it’ll take the police to notice people straight up disappeared, make the link with what I told them and actually believe me.”

Wade stopped brutally.

“They didn’t believe you?”
“Nope”, Spidey replied, popping the p. “They rarely do, and I must admit that this time it is weird enough to deserve disbelief. I mean, zombies? I fought weird villains, scary villains, but never zombies.”
“I’m pretty sure I fought zombies once. Or was it another universe? I can’t remember, my memory is such a mess.”
“Are you messing with me?” Spider-Man asked sceptically. “You sound awfully serious.”
“Parallel universes, Spidey”, Wade slurred seductively.
“Wade, even if that theory is real and there is a version of you fighting zombies, that’s not gonna help us. You won’t have this experience.”
“Actually”, Wade replied, licking his lips, “I have access to the knowledge of all alternate universes me. A perk of being able to break the fourth wall, I guess. The problem is, my mind is a bit too fucked up and it makes it hard to focus. Or remember things. Or, you know, to think.”
“I can’t tell if you’re kidding me or not”, Spider-Man said, baffled.
“I’m dead serious, Baby boy. People usually don’t believe me because I sound crazy, and because I am a little bit crazy – I mean I hear voices and I have hallucinations and a bad case of PTSD so I guess – no, wait, I never meant to say that, what I wanted to say is, I sound crazy and I may not have the lights in all the rooms, but I assure you what I told you is true.”
“You’re even worse than me when it comes to word-vomiting”, Spider-Man said in awe. “I believe you, by the way, even if it sure sounds like a lot. Anyway, I don’t think we actually need to fight the zombies. They decomposed pretty fast, and they’re merely victims either way. The real enemy is whatever turned them, and whoever made it.”
“You don’t think it was a real, mutated virus?”
“The chances of that are so absurdly low we might as well say inexistent”, Spider-Man replied shaking his head. “Allie, stop pulling”, he added for the retriever who very much wanted to greet a fellow dog. “No, this was man-made. Whether it is criminal or accidental is a whole other story. We’re pretty sure it was in their drug… If I wanted to test my new biological weapon, drugged people would be my target audience too. No one will really pay attention to the death of someone who often did drugs and has most likely ODed.”
“Yeah I wouldn’t be surprised either”, Wade replied. “You wouldn’t believe the things you can buy on the black market.”
“I don’t even want to know, Wade”, Spider-Man replied.

He kept on talking, but Wade didn’t hear him. His attention was all on the Daily Bugle’s new headline: Spider-Man finally shows his true colors, and it’s BLOOD RED! The front cover showed Spider-Man swinging with Deadpool on his back, and a smaller title claimed “masked menace Spider-Man was photographed yesterday evening with known criminal Deadpool”.

Wade hated the Bugle. He always had, ever since the newspaper had decided to present Spider-Man as a threat instead of the hero he actually was. He would have spoken his mind to Jameson if he hadn’t feared to smear the wall-crawler’s reputation more, and now they’d gone and been photographed together. Though the photograph was, admittedly, really crappy compared to the photos P. Parker had taken all these years.

He flinched when Stanford pulled him out of his thoughts by pushing his muzzle in his hand, pressing his body against his legs. He bent and pet him with a tight smile.

“Hey there bud, what’s wrong?”

Wade looked up: Spider-Man had stopped talking, his eyes set on the Daily Bugle. Even with the mask on, Wade could totally guess his mouth was pulled into a taut line. The hero gulped and awkwardly reached to his nape.

“I’m sorry”, Wade blurted out. “I was so excited I didn’t think.”

Spider-Man shook his head.

“Don’t worry about that. Jameson has hated me from the start, he won’t stop now.”
“This photo is crap, who took it anyway?” Wade grumbled. “Usually Parker’s photos are good at putting you to your advantage, and- Oh, Brock. No surprise then. Did you see his work for the Daily Globe? Ew. Even I can- Spidey?”

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

“You… know the name of my photographer?” he stuttered, definitely surprised.

Wade perked up.

“Of course I do! The guy has been taking photos of you for what, nineteen years? Twenty? Almost as long as you’ve been around. He always makes your butt look delightful, you know.” Wade pointed to the newspaper. “This is crap. Where is Parker?”
“Fired”, Peter replied curtly, bile rising in his throat at the thought of the years he spent working for Jameson, against his own masked persona. “Jameson fired him.”

Wade stilled.

“You knew him well, I guess?”

Peter debated what to tell and what to hush, and ultimately shrugged with a dry laugh.

“Twenty years, ‘Pool. We knew each other pretty well, yeah. You could even say we were friends, even though I tried not to look too close to him. He would have been in danger.”
“Eh, you think he could take my photo? I really like his compositions, you know.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from laughing, genuinely touched by the compliment.

“I can always ask”, he offered. “If he’s not too busy, he might say yes.”

Peter looked at the time and grimaced, handing Allie’s leash to Wade.

“I should get going if I want to be done with my analysis before we meet up again”, he said. “7 p.m., I’ll be waiting for your message.” He paused. “Dress code?”
“No dress code”, Deadpool chirped, “you can look like a hobo if you want to. Though, you know, skinny jeans would really flatter your butt.”
“Oh they really do”, Peter purred, smirking. “You might want to not wear leather, or anything tight in the crotch area, tonight”, he added as he strolled away, casually throwing a web and swinging his way back to Brooklyn.

He was not teasing Wade, no, he was not. And he was not going to wear the skinny jeans, they were too tight and- Oh who was he kidding? He hadn’t worn anything to make himself attractive in quite few years. He wasn’t sure he still fit into said jeans, but damn if he wouldn’t try. Smiling to himself, he swiftly crawled through his window and glared at the mess that was his apartment. Yes, there was that too. It would be for tomorrow-Peter because today-Peter had things to do. Shrugging off his coat and pulling off his shoes, he switched on the light at his desk and prepared everything he would need to analyse the sample he’d gotten.

His back popped when he straightened up and then stretched, wondering what time it was: he had been so focused on his experiments and analysis, making new web-fluid on the side while he waited, that he hadn’t noticed how much time had passed. However, the painful pressure from his full bladder and rumbling stomach told him he’d been there for a few hours at least. 3 p.m, he still had some time before his little rendez-vous with Wade. He took care of the most urgent, namely peeing before he had an embarrassing accident. Second on his list was eating, but he wasn’t in the mood for cooking – he rarely was, if he was being honest – so he microwaved some instant noodles and sat down to eat it.

The timer he’d set for one of his analysis rang just as he finished his cup of coffee, which was way too bitter, and he set down to work out the results. With the experiments out of the way, understanding them wasn’t very long, but he still found himself with pieces of papers everywhere – so much that he decided to dedicate a notebook to this investigation. He had a feeling this would take time to solve. He glanced at the clock: 5 p.m. Groaning, he decided to get ready and chucked off his worn-out jeans and ridiculous t-shirt to stand in front of his small wardrobe. He managed to find the skinny jeans at the bottom of a shelf, and squeezed himself into them. Not bad, given that he hadn’t worn them in years. They were dark but not black, giving him longer legs than he really had and, yes, they did amazing things to his rear. Like make it even bubblier than usual. How… unusual.

Finding a top was, however, much harder. Why was everything he owned so… dull? And washed-out? And so goddamn large? No wonder M.J. hadn’t wanted him anymore, he looked so depressing! Determined to change his wardrobe once he’d gotten a job, he scribbled that on his to-do list and stacked it in front of his desk. 1 – Clean up and order home. 2 – Find a new job. 3 – Change wardrobe for something cooler. He hesitated a second, and added a 4 – Start a new life. This would probably be the hardest part, but M.J. had been really clear: there would be no second chance. Not this time. Not anymore. He’d fucked up one too many times and lost her. So he would fix the cracks that had made him lose her, and go on, hoping to be better. At least if not for her, then for…

“If you won’t do it for me, then do it for yourself!” Mary-Jane had said, crying. “I can see you’re not happy with me anymore, and I’m no longer happy either. We’re no good for each other, but just because we’re not good for each other doesn’t mean you don’t deserve good things. More than anything else, you are my friend, Peter, and I love you. You deserve good things, and I’m no longer that thing. We both deserve… something that suits us better.”

He took a deep breath, surprised by the unexpected flashback. In retrospective, yeah, he understood, but god if that didn’t hurt. Okay, no, fuck that. He was mad as hell and depressed and good for nothing without her. Spider-Man was the only thing he had left, so he couldn’t fuck that up.

And Wade. He had Wade, now, too.

Fantastic, Peter”, he said out-loud. “A murderous maniac, that’s really the kind of person you need in your life right now.” He paused. “A kind guy who makes amazing pancakes and sees beyond the costume. A gentle soul who kisses like a god and makes you feel sexy and desired.”

Despite himself, he smiled. So, what. Wade was an unexpected good thing in his life, and he was going to cling onto him, like his fingers stuck to everything when he first got his powers. His eyes fell back onto his wardrobe. His problem still wasn’t solved. Unless…? He reached for a black lump of fabric and unfolded it: it was definitely way too large to be his. And the size and colours clearly identified it as a Wade item. When had he kidnapped one of Wade’s hoodies? That night. Wade had pulled the jacket from who knew where and wrapped it around Olivia while she was unconscious so she wouldn’t go into shock. She’d given it back to Peter, thinking it was his, and he’d held onto it, forgetting he even had it.

Throwing on one of his oversized t-shirts, he grabbed his laundry along with the jacket and made his way to the laundromat just a few meters away. One hour later, with clean and dried clothes, he made his way back home and pulled off his t-shirt, rummaging through his shelves until he found that one top he had worn like, once when he’d tried to hit the gym back in his early twenties, before realizing it was stupid and useless. The black wifebeater had been a bit loose back then, but with the years he’d gained muscles – nothing crazy, but it was enough for the top to be snug and cling in all the right places. He pulled on the jacket, rolling the sleeve’s up so they covered his wrists instead of flapping uselessly down his hands, and quickly put on socks and comfortable shoes before he grabbed his messenger bag. It was worn-out because he had used it through his college years, and then for work at the Daily Bugle, but it was strong and perfect to hold his things. Like web-fluid cartridges, a spare suit and his notebook with a pen, the cap all chewed up.

He checked his phone: Wade had sent him an address two minutes ago. Five minutes swinging, and more like twenty if he walked. Longer with public transportation, given the hour. Sighing, he slid his headphone on, plugged it in his phone and put the device in his jacket’s pocket before he left. The wind was biting that night, and he pulled the hood up, wondering if he should have shaved. But no, no, it wasn’t a date date, he had to remind himself of that. He arrived at his destination with five minutes to spare and a spring in his step, his fingers tight around the strap of his bag after he’d slid his mask on. He was ready.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade had to stop and stare because, damn. He’d seen that butt naked, even though he’d tried to respect Spider-Man’s intimacy, but seeing it clad in tight-fitting dark jeans really did put things in perspective. He almost had his hands on that amazing, heroic ass when the spider suddenly turned and gave a squeal of surprise.

“DAMMIT Wade! Don’t creep up behind me like that! You’ll give me a heart attack!”
“Sorry”, Wade replied sheepishly. “I wanted to touch the booty.”

Spider-Man made a heavy, overly-dramatic sigh and beckoned him closer with a crook of his finger.

“Then touch the booty so we can go.”
“YEEPEE!”

He didn’t question the man a second time and instead took a handful of Spidery ass, letting out a sigh as Spider-Man jerked a bit and stabilized with a hand on his chest, on tip-toes because Wade was literally lifting him off the ground.

“Fuck, it’s so perfect”, he moaned, fingers kneading the muscle. “I could do this all day.”
“Please don’t”, Spidey replied, sounding somewhat strained. “I don’t think I have the room for a hard-on.”
“Oh baby boy, these jeans sure are tight, look at you!”

Wade stepped back and gave Spider-Man a once-over, his eyebrows going up as he noticed the large jacket hanging on his leaner frame.

“Could this be my jacket?”
“I like it”, Spider-Man said, burrowing deeper into it. “It’s warm and it’s large and comfortable.”

{Just like us.}

Wade shivered, willing his dick to calm down because his Deadpool costume was not fit for that. Clearing his throat, he reached into one of his pockets and handed a clean mask to the hero before turning away while he exchanged the masks.

“Let’s go”, Spidey said.

Wade guided him to a dingy alleyway a few meters away, one that reeked of many things and rung of raucous laughter and gravelly jokes. He loved that place, it was like a second home. A building, grey, austere and probably haunted if you asked the people living nearby, rose at the bottom of the alley. There was a rusted copper plate on the wall that claimed “Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children”, but that was all the identification needed.

“What is this place?” Spider-Man asked, coming up behind him.
“The place where mercenaries of all kinds meet. You’ll love it.”
“I bet I will”, Spidey replied drily as Wade opened the door and held it for him.

Inside, it was dimly lit and though not as dirty as Wade’s apartment, there were some suspicious stains on the walls, the floor and even the ceiling. It was loud inside and there were already a lot of people. Spidey squirmed, his fingers tightening on his backpack, before he followed Wade to the counter.

“You’re late”, the barman spat. “I sent you a text like three hours ago.”
“I was busy jerking off”, Wade replied. “Two beers, Weasel, and none of that crap you serve. From your special stash, you know the one.”
“Two?” Weasel repeated, eyebrows going up as he peered into the shadows behind Wade.
“Hi”, Spider-Man said, stepping out from behind Wade to let Weasel see him.
“What the fuck is that”, Weasel said, unimpressed.

Well, they’d known each other for long enough that he could hardly be surprised by the shit Wade pulled.

“My Sugar Baby”, Wade crooned, and Weasel gagged as Spider-Man broke into a fit of laughter, grabbing Wade’s arms to whisper in his ear.
“Your Spider Baby, Daddypool”, he said, grinning under the mask.

Wade sat down on a stool, waiting for Spidey to hop onto the second, but a massive guy, though not as tall as himself, took it first. Wade was about to threaten him into leaving the place when Spider-Man slid between the two of them and perched himself in Wade’s lap, completely unabashed.

“Hell I didn’t think you were serious”, Weasel said as he slid two beers on the counter.
“I wasn’t”, Wade squeaked.
“I’m wounded, Wade”, Spidey protested. “Alright, let’s focus. You found something, Weasly dude?”
“It’s Weasel”, the barman retorted, “and it was Wade’s request, not yours, whoever you might be.”
“C’mon, don’t tease”, Wade cried out. “What did you find?”

Weasel started to wipe a greasy glass and leant forward.

“Three suspicious disappearances”, he replied. “And two reports of piles of bones and blood. One ‘witness’, Joshua Jefferson. He told the police he saw a couple turn into zombies. But since he was high as a kite, they didn’t believe him. Our guy was interned in a psychiatric hospital owned by the Life Foundation.”

Wade let out a low whistle. So it probably wasn’t a one time thing, then. It would confirm Spider-Man’s suspicions. Weasel reached under the counter and slid a kraft envelope towards them. Spider-Man was about to open it, but Wade stopped him.

“Not here”, he said. “Alright. All eyes out, Wease. If there is something out of the ordinary, I want to know it.”
“It is apparently a man-made virus”, Spider-Man intervened. “It’s transmitted through bodily fluids, as far as I can tell, but potentially any fluid injected into the body can provoke an infection if the virus is there.” He paused. “Whoever created this could poison the water main and turn New York into a desert zone in a few hours.”

Wade froze.

“So potentially, we could be facing an epidemic?”
“Yes”, Spider-Man nodded. “Which is why all infected corpses and their belongings must be burnt. Fire is deadly to it, so sanitizing is essential.”
“That’s literally not our job”, Weasel pointed out.
“Half of your clientele is drugged to the bones, and the other half doesn’t know what “sexually transmissible disease” means. Bodily fluids, Weasel. It means spunk as well. If we let this go on unchecked, you can say goodbye to Sissy Margaret’s.”
“Also letting people die is like, wrong”, Spider-Man pointed out, attracting quite a few gazes.

Wade snorted.

“Baby boy, you won’t convince anyone like this here”, he said. “Though you’re totally right.”
“Really, Wade”, Weasel said, staring back at him. “I don’t know where you picked up this one, but you should bring him back. This is our morally dubious sanctuary, should I remind you?”

Wade turned his head when he felt someone watching him, and there Spidey was, staring back at him. He couldn’t tell what kind of face he was making with the mask on, but he had a suspicion it wasn’t a good expression. All of a sudden, and without anyone else noticing it, a glob of web-fluid shot out and landed on Weasel’s mouth, shutting him up.

“Please, shut up”, Spider-Man said, sounding tired. “I’m not here to convince you to be an upstanding citizen because it’s quite obvious I won’t find that here. However, there is a difference between ‘upstanding citizen’ and terrorism, and right now you’re treading that line. It might not be your job to save people, but it’s the least you can do if you still want to be called human. Technically, saving people isn’t my job either.” He chuckled. “You think swinging around pays for shit? Well, it doesn’t. So now, you will shut the fuck up and open your eyes and ears, because you might just be the one we need to prevent this disaster. Are we clear?”

His eyes wide behind his glasses, Weasel nodded, and Wade realized he’d been gaping at Spider-Man. He shut his own mouth with an audible click and licked his lips.

[That was so hot.]
{Did you feel that sexy energy? Brrr.}

Weasel sent him an accusing look, and it wasn’t hard to guess it meant “what the FUCK Wade your brought fucking SPIDER-MAN here?”, or something along these lines. Wade grinned and set his chin on Spider-Man’s head.

“Can I dissolve the web, or do you need it to remain silent?”
“Damn, Webs, please gag me next and do whatever you want.”

Spider-Man turned slightly to look at him, and this time the mask moved just enough to suggest a smirk.

“Don’t tempt me.”

Wade only saw his hand sliding under the too-wide sleeves of the jacket and the next second, the web keeping Weasel silent dripped down to the bar and turned into a small pool that looked suspiciously like something else.

The surprisingly pointy elbow that rammed in his stomach was unexpected, though, but he understood at Spidey’s hissing that he’d said that out loud. He tried to laugh through his wheezes and three broken ribs, certain the hero hadn’t meant to hit this hard.

“Oh fuck”, Weasel said, his nose scrunched up in disgust, “was that sound your ribs?”

Spider-Man tensed in his lap, ready to panic, and Wade gritted his teeth through the pain to grab his hips and keep him down where he was.

“That’s nothing”, he replied.
“W-Wade, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s alright, Webs. I like that you mess up things too, you know. You’d be too perfect otherwise.” He stared back at Weasel. “So now that we’ve all agreed to play nice and work on this together, maybe we could party a little?”
“Wade, you’ve been betting on Flagpole for three weeks in a row”, Weasel replied, wisely not answering about the work part.
“Yes!” Wade squeaked. “I love how he keeps getting out of things. Every single time I think, this time is the one, this time he will die… and he finds a way out!”

Spider-Man squirmed against him to follow their gazes, and it landed on the back chalkboard above the bar.

“Dead Pool? You… bet on who will die?” He gasped. “Is that where your name comes from?”
“Ding ding! Aren’t you smart, Doctor Webs!” Wade booped his nose and smiled. “Wease here bet against me. Of course that was before I got the whole can’t-die shtick, so he’s lost two hundred dollars.”
“Whatever you do, get out of my hair before the ten o’clock rush. It’s absolute hell”, Weasel said, grabbing a new glass and filling it for a patron.
“You still haven’t found anyone?” Wade asked. “I thought it would be easy.”
“I can’t exactly put an ad in the newspaper, and most people who are linked to this place already have jobs. That pay better, usually.”

Wade nodded. For two months now, Weasel had been struggling with the night-rush, as Sissy Margaret’s gained in notoriety amongst its crowd. He couldn’t serve people and have their clients’ card ready, which meant he was going spare.

“You only need a barman, though, right? Someone to serve the drinks and wash the glasses”, Wade asked, humming.
“Yeah”, Weasel sighed. “I’m not letting anyone waltz in and disturb my trade, I’m not that stupid.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know someone, Spidey?” Wade asked. “You think Parker would be up for this?”
“Parker?” Weasel asked, his nose scrunching. “A reporter. Why would he want to work here?”
“Because the pay is actually quite good when compared to what you can make in other bars, and the guy is likely in search of some work”, Wade replied.
“Well, I don’t know”, Spider-Man replied, sounding dubious. “I’ll let him know, but I can’t promise anything else.”

Before Wade could stop him, the hero had slid down from his lap.

“Where are we going?” Wade asked, scrambling after him.
“Well, I think dinner might be nice”, Spider-Man pointed out. “And then I have patrol.”
“I know this taco place”, Wade started, grabbing his hand and threading their fingers together.
“Another time”, Spidey replied. “Right now, I crave pizza.”
“Pizza it is, then.”

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

So, Peter did crave pizza, but mostly he wanted to get out of Sissy Margaret’s. The place stank and the crowd was getting too loud for his sensitive hearing, and he didn’t like Weasel’s way too smart gaze trained on him. It felt like the guy could see right through the mask. He felt Wade nestle his palm against his own and smiled, comforted by the gesture. Swiftly, he pulled the mask up to free his nose and his mouth, breathing deeply and filling his lungs. His ears were ringing, actually, and his spider-sense had been acting up ever since he’d stepped inside. It never did anything when Wade was around, but Weasel especially had sent it reeling. It had only been this bad around freakingly dangerous villains, namely the Green Goblin and Doc Oc. Both of whom could do no wrong now that they were six feet under.

“Webs? You alright?”
“It’s nothing”, Peter said, gasping. “It’s just, I’ve got this tingling that warns me of danger, and it didn’t agree with Sister Margaret’s crowd.”

Wade stopped, yanking his hand out from his, and Peter came to a stop as well, panicking.

“Have you been in pain this whole time around me?” the merc asked.
“No”, Peter replied truthfully. “For some reason, my sense doesn’t warn me of your presence, which is how you managed to surprise me. It’s kind of soothing, actually.”
“Wait a minute”, Wade scrambled. “Your danger-warning sense does not react to me?!”

Peter lifted a hand in a peaceful gesture.

“It doesn’t mean you’re not dangerous, only that you’re not dangerous to me.” He tilted his head. “You don’t want to hurt me, Wade. At least, that’s how I understand it.”

Deadpool seemed genuinely startled by the admission, and he hesitatingly cupped Peter’s bared cheek. His leather gloves were rough and cold against his skin, and Peter leaned into it, breathing in the smell of leather polish, gun powder, with the tangy scent of blood and alcohol. Underneath it all, there was lavender, copper, and sawdust. It shouldn’t have been good, but it was. Peter parted his lips and closed his eyes, taking in the unique scent that grounded him when all his senses were going haywire.

He opened his eyes to find Wade frozen and staring at him. Slowly, shyly, he smiled, and Wade smiled in return.

“The things you do to me, Spidey”, Wade whispered in a low, rough voice. “I was not prepared to meet you.”
“Nor I to meet you.”
“I’d say it feels like drowning, but drowning is not so peaceful”, Wade added.

He would have said something else if Peter’s stomach hadn’t growled loudly, making him snort instead. Gently, his gloved thumb brushed along Peter’s bottom lip, and Peter lightly bit the tip. Wade froze again, this time taking a deep breath.

“Keep on doing that, Baby Boy, and I’ll go berserk on that ass.”
“At least, buy me dinner first”, Peter quipped, his heart hammering in his chest.

Wade groaned and pulled away, not so subtly adjusting himself in his pants.

“I swear you’ll be the death of me.”

Peter had to admit he wasn’t exactly comfortable himself, but he’d brought that one on his head, so he wasn’t going to complain. He jerked his head and made a “come hither” gesture.

“C’mon, Wade. Pizzas.”

Wade was all too happy to pay for all, despite Peter’s strong protest, though he agreed to let Peter treat him next time. It implied there would be a next time, and it was more than enough for him. Peter easily swung up a building with the boxes, before he hoisted Wade to his side. There were no stars to look at, but the nightscape of Brooklyn, so far up, was a sight to behold. It wasn’t silent either, but it was remote enough to give them the impression of seclusion.

“How can you be so lean when you eat that much?” Wade asked in wonder when Peter finished his second pizza, with still garlic bread to go.

Peter licked his fingers and grabbed a piece of bread.

“Super-fast metabolism”, he replied. “You wouldn’t believe the quantities I ate as a teen. Like, you must know about teenage monstrous appetite. Couple that with super-metabolism and all the exercise I got patrolling around… I was a black hole, always hungry.”

He gulped down the last bite of his bread, wiped his fingers clean and finally grabbed the kraft envelope Weasel had given them, opening it and pulling its content out. His eyebrows shot up under the mask when he recognized classified police documents, and a psychiatric assessment. The couple who had disappeared, and whom they had the quasi certainty had died gruesomely, wasn’t the kind whose disappearance made the headlines. Samuel Gordon, a mechanic in a small store in Queens, and his girlfriend, Anika Kowalski, a stripper in a high-class bar in Manhattan. His heart stopped when he read that they had a little girl, Victoria. The child had been entrusted to an orphanage in Harlem while the police searched for her parents and tried to find someone who could take her in.

He nearly rumpled the documents in his anger, but managed to stop himself in time. The couple didn’t do drugs, from what the reports said, but he learnt from their banking information that they were in dire need of money. Which meant they were vulnerable, and fit in his expectation of someone actively targeting those who were weaker and in need of help. He handed that file to Wade so he could read it and opened the second. His heart stopped when he saw the photo that accompanied the file. This one was thinner, which could easily be explained by the fact that the disappeared man was a Marine. He rubbed his eyes, thinking that maybe he’d seen wrong, but he read the name and his mouth suddenly dried.

Eugene “Flash” Thompson. Aka his biggest bully in high-school. This could only be a bad joke. He closed the file with a slap, breathing in deeply. He’d saved Flash before – when doctor Connors went mad, and from the Green Goblin. He’d even saved him once from a collapsing building, not that long ago. He couldn’t say his blood didn’t still boil when he thought about him. Which was ridiculous, it’d been years.

“-dey? Hey, Spidey, you hear me? What the hell, he’s broken- White you’re not helping!”
“I’m fine”, he gasped, blindly reaching for Wade to pat him. “I’m fine.”
“Dude, you don’t seem fine”, Deadpool retorted. “I’ve been speaking to you for like, five minutes, and you just stare at the void in a kinda worrying way!”
“I know our third disappeared person”, Peter blurted out.

Wade paused at that.

“Oh.”

His hands twitching nervously, Peter got up and paced on the roof while Wade attentively read the file. He was restless, now. He had been for a moment, just because he’d had Wade so close – and hell what had gone through his head, for him to sit in Wade’s lap like that?! – but now it was becoming really annoying.

“I need to swing”, he finally blurted out, opening his messenger bag to pull his suit out. “I- I need-”
“It’s okay, Webs”, Wade replied soothingly. “I got it. You need to move. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

Peter felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as gratitude filled him. He shrugged off the jacket and folded it, swiftly pulling his tank top over his head to pull the suit on.

“Ah so you’re just going to change here”, Wade said, something in his voice strained. “Not that I don’t appreciate the show but- holy shit”, he swore as Peter shimmied out of the skinny jeans.
“Like what you see?” he said, turning towards him with a grin.
“You should be illegal, Spidey. Especially like this, wearing my mask with the top part of your suit. Damn, I’d give my right arm just to make that underwear disappear.”

Peter shivered at the implication, even though he was already slipping into his pants and boots.

“Maybe next time”, he answered, wanting to sound confident, but his voice got strangled by his own boldness.
“You know I’m more than willing if you want to work out nervous energy.”

Peter felt his blood pool south and let out a groan. This was not the moment. He exchanged his mask under the cover of a wall and ran as fast as he could before jumping down with whoop, only catching the first measures of I need a Hero belting from Wade’s phone. He swung through the streets, waving back to the children and even saving a cat from traffic. His muscles burnt from the effort, the wind whooshing in his ears, his breath coming short and yet, he felt… fine. There was nothing like swinging, like the rush of adrenaline, the free-fall and then the sudden catch when his web tensed and stopped his fall. He was out sooner than usual, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He stopped a snatcher who had stolen the bag of an old woman and gave the bag back to the lady, who gratefully gave him a Mentos she had in it.

Finally, the knot of tension in his stomach loosened and faded away. Flash had disappeared, sure, but it didn’t mean he had been killed by the virus. It could be something else and he was still alive. It could be. So he had to find him, because otherwise he would resent himself forever.

Despite his promise to catch up, Wade hadn’t moved from the roof when he came back. He was focused on the files, which he had spread around him and weighed with some of Peter’s things, and others that were… not. Like a hand-grenade, ammo, a little bottle of something, a silvery flask, and a… pair of handcuffs? Peter landed soundlessly and observed how he’d spread the information. It had seemed haphazard at first, but it wasn’t. No, he could tell there was a logic in it, it was just that he couldn’t point out what it was. He crouched by one sheet, reading through redacted confidential intel about Flash’s activities as a Marine. To be honest, there was so much redacted that he couldn’t make sense of what he was reading – but Wade had circled two names in red pastel (why did he even have red pastel?) and written beside them: the first one was Francis Freeman, labelled Ajax and the second was “Lab 3: experiments with 3rd gene modification”, re-named Weapon X.

“You found something?” he finally asked, his gaze going back to Deadpool.
“Yes”, Wade answered, his voice tight. “Nothing good. A huge pile of stinky shit I don’t want to touch with a ten-feet pole.” He turned around and stared straight back at Peter. “Tell me that Eugene guy isn’t someone you hold dear.”
“He’s… not”, Peter admitted, feeling guilty about it, even though he had all the reasons to hate Flash. “I never liked him, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Especially dissolving on his feet.”
“There are worse things than death”, Wade replied, his voice low. “For his sake, I sincerely hope he did die dissolving on his feet.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what I know”, he said. “But not now. It’s- I wasn’t expecting it, not after all these years, and I can’t- I can’t- Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Wade yelled, getting up and kicking the roof’s border repeatedly, even though Peter heard a sickening crunch on the first hit.
“Wade, it’s alright, you don’t have to- Wade!”

He managed to catch him before the guy collapsed, breathing raggedly. Gently, Peter rolled the bottom part of his mask up to let him breathe easier.
“This is a mess, Wade, but we’ll deal with it one day at a time. Okay?”
“I wish I could go swinging like you and feel better afterwards”, Wade said. “Say, would you really get mad if I… maybe, jumped off this roof? I need to reset, Spidey, and I need to reset badly, I can’t- Gosh, will you shut the fuck up you two?!”
“Yes”, Peter breathed, tightening his grip on him. “Yeah, I would. Isn’t there another way? Something that doesn’t hurt you?”
“If there is, I haven’t found it” Wade grunted.

Peter blinked.

“Actually, I have an idea. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll fling you off the roof myself. Deal?”

Wade gulped, and Peter distinctively felt his pulse quicken.

“You sound good making threats, Spidey. You should do that more often.”
“Shut up, Wade Wilson”, Peter replied with a tight smile.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade was laying with his foot in several pieces and his head in Spider-Man’s lap, which all things considered was kind of a good thing. White and Yellow were yelling, screeching and taunting, flinging his most hurtful memories at him, and he simply wanted it to stop.

He didn’t expect Spidey to roll up his mask and slot their mouths together in a downright filthy kiss that surprised the boxes so much they stumbled into silence. Spidey’s gloved hand cupped his jaw as the hero deepened the kiss, sucking on his bottom lip, and Wade let himself be pulled in the sinful pleasure that was Spider-Man’s mouth. He bit sharply at him, pulling a drop of blood that made the man whine in pain mixed with pleasure, breathing into his mouth just to go back to its careless plundering. And if he was fucking the hero’s mouth with his tongue, well. He’d always had vivid fantasies.

Breaking the kiss, he sat up, his foot already mostly knitted back together, and crawled to Spidey, eyeing his lips already puffy and parted on shallow breaths, the rough stubble on his jaw, the lines of the suit and landing on his crotch.

“Wade?”
“You’re really testing my self-control tonight”, he replied, his voice tight, fingers curled into fists over his thighs. “And I don’t have much of it.”

As he said so, he pulled Spider-Man into another kiss, more languid as he mapped out his mouth, his blood roaring in his ears and heart thumping like it was trying to crawl out of his chest. Spidey’s hand curled on his nape, keeping him close, as his other grabbed his belt and tugged him forward. He lost his balance and collapsed against the hero, who went to the ground and crossed his ankles over the small of his back.

“So flexible”, Wade marvelled, mouthing at his jaw, since apparently the man didn’t care that he’d been toppled over.

White and Yellow were silent, but his mind was reeling with arousal, wanting to focus on everything that was Spidey and unable to do it. He knew, in a corner of his mind, that there were things to consider, things he’d thought about, things he ought to think about, but all that mattered at the moment was the little spider writhing under him, tugging him closer and closer.

“Now you’ve done it, Webs”, he growled, pulling the lobe of an ear out from under the mask with his teeth and worrying it as Spider-Man let out a loud, out of control moan.

He grabbed Spidey’s hips and pulled him up to rest on his thighs, bubbly ass meeting his hard, leather clad cock, and Wade gasped, ending on a moan that lost itself in Spidey’s mouth.

“Oh- Oh fuck”, Spider-Man swore most uncharacteristically, rocking his hips into him and making Wade see stars. “W-Wade, I won’t last, it’s-”
“As it been so long since someone last touched you that your forgot what pleasure felt like?” Wade growled in his ear, meeting his wanton wriggling with aimless thrusts of his own. “Or do you have the self-control of a teenage boy?”

And Spider-Man snapped.

Wade had always wanted to see that – Spider-Man snapping and going feral. He just had never expected that it would be his fault, nor that it would go… like this. One second he was somewhat in control, if rutting against your new super-hero friend was ‘being in control’, and the next he was flying and hitting the ground hard, said hero climbing in his lap and holding him down with a hand on his torso, much too strong for a man, fingers splayed over his heart.

“Do not mock me”, Spidey growled, sitting on his hips. “Don’t you dare-”

Wade bucked his hips with a grin and Spider-Man howled, his back bowing gracefully in what would have been very painful for anyone other than him.

“Baby boy?” Wade called, slightly worried.

Spider-Man gasped and slumped against him, heavy and finally completely relaxed for the first time since they met before Sissy Margaret’s. Wade’s mouth fell open when he realized the spider had just come on top of him. That… hadn’t been expected.

“Holy shit”, he marvelled. “That was beautiful.”

Spidey let out a whine, lightly hitting his forehead repeatedly against Wade’s shoulder, shaking with nervous laughter.

“I’m all gross now. This is in the top 5 of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever done.”
“What was?”
“Coming too fast by rubbing myself over someone else”, Webs mumbled against his shoulder. “This was s’posed to be about you.”
“Oh believe me I enjoyed it”, Wade wheezed, his fingers curling against the roof, his cock hard in his leather pants.

The leather pants were his only regret.

Spider-Man’s fingers cupped his crotch and Wade made a wounded sound.

“I want to make you come”, the hero whispered in a low voice against his ear.
“Believe me that won’t be difficult”, Wade replied, focusing on his breathing rather than on the lithe fingers dancing against his crotch.

Finally, he snatched Spidey’s wrist just as he hooked his fingers in the zip-up’s cover.

“I won’t be giving you nightmares, Spidey. Don’t.”

Spider-Man pulled away slightly to stare at him, eyes thinning to show displeasure, but whatever he saw on Wade’s bare lower face was enough to convince him not to fight him on this. Instead, he shifted and easily man-handled the merc until he was on his knees, with his arms wrapped around him.

“Um- What are you doing?” Wade asked warily, though his own volition at being man-handled still surprised him.
“Making you come too”, Spider-Man breathed, lips sliding against the corner of his mouth, before it stopped fully on it for a kiss.

His thigh rose up just as he pulled Wade down, his on-fire crotch meeting the hard muscle underneath, and Wade grunted.

“W-Webs, you…”
“Do you think you can be good for me, Wade? Think you can come from rubbing on my thigh?”

Wade felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he shifted his stance, allowing Spider-Man to guide his movements even as he sped up. There was something utterly filthy about Spider-Mans’s voice whispering in his ear like this, something that sent his self-control through the window.

“Y-Yes”, he gasped when Spidey’s pinched his thigh.
“Then go on. You’re being so good for me”, Spider-Man added as Wade rolled his hips down, chasing the pleasure. He didn’t care about anything else. “So, so good, Wade”, the hero purred, having apparently finally realised how much power he held over him. “Think you can come when I tell you to?”

Spider-Man’s fingers were strong on his hips, helping him up and down, making him grind into his thigh. Wade let out a whine and dropped his face in Spider-Man’s neck as he rolled down wildly.

“Y-Yes, yes, Spidey, sir- ah, yes, sir!”

The spider chuckled low in his throat and Wade shivered. This was not what he had signed for, but dammit if he wasn’t seeing it through. His pleasure coiled ready to snap, and yet unable to without Spider-Man’s assent. The simple thought of coming from a command was enough to make him twitch.

“Then come”, Spider-Man whispered sultrily, and Wade lost it.

It took him a few shaky minutes to come back, his head strangely silent, until White finally spoke.

[So are we going to address your giant praise kink or what?]
{I didn’t even know we had this one} Yellow added, in awe. [Also can we talk about how hot Spidey was just now? Damn.}

“You know what, let’s just rev back to the praise kink”, Wade replied, his eyes wide as he looked at Spider-Man without really seeing him.
“Don’t forget that you called me sir and that was so hot”, Spidey quipped, laid against him.

Apparently the hero had man-handled them to lay side by side on the roof, catching their breaths. Wade grinned and rolled, balancing on one elbow to look at him. Spider-Man’s lips were wet and shiny from their kisses, the bottom part of his cheeks flushed an endearing red, and Wade could think of so many things to do with those lips…

{Click-click, sight added to the spank-bank.}

“Yeah? You’re good at giving orders, you know. Makes me want to obey, and let’s be honest, you’re the only one who manages to do that besides Captain America.”
“Captain- what?” Spidey laughed. “Is that a name of a porn star I haven’t heard of?”
“If only”, Wade replied with a dreamy sigh, patting Spider-Man’s thigh comfortingly. “Alternate reality, Baby Boy.”

{…Captain America porn. Spidey is living the best life I swear.}
[…Didn’t we get a sick burn from him? How come Spidey hasn’t heard of him?]

Wade frowned. That was true. He was pretty sure Captain America existed in this reality. He turned slightly and finally saw the tight pull on Spider-Man’s lips as the guy tried no to laugh.

“YOU ASSHOLE!”

Spider-Man burst out laughing, slapping his own thigh with glee.

“OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU FELL FOR THAT”, he cackled, his laugh turning into something akin to a hyena, his gasps evoking a sea lion. He was a whole zoo by himself.
“How did you even come up with that one?” Wade asked, shoving him a little.

Spider-Man looked at him, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.

“You’re not the only one with devious thoughts or a spank-bank. Captain America is hot as hell, for a guy his age.”
“His ass can almost rival yours.”
“I am offended. I thought I had the best ass.”
“I SAID ALMOST”, Wade shrieked, launching himself at Spidey and covering his lips with his own. “There’s not booty better than yours, Webs.”

Spider-Man hummed in the kiss, his spandex covered fingers trailing down Wade’s back and tapping against the katanas’ sheaths. It was lazy and without intent, Wade simply weighing over the hero and making the most of the situation.

“As great as making out like horny teens is”, Spidey whispered, “I really have to patrol.”
“Is there any way to convince you to stay here and keep on making out like horny teens?” Wade replied against his lips, nuzzling his cheek to kiss his neck, where the top of the costume stopped to reveal flushed skin.

Spider-Man gasped quietly and Wade filed the sensitive neck for later.

“You’re making it very hard already”, Webs said, and Wade rolled his hips down into him.
“That’s not the only hard thing here.”

Spider-Man inhaled sharply, lips parting invitingly. Wade could feel him tremble in arousal and he prayed for the night to never end. He wanted to live in this moment forever, with a soft and pliant Spidey under him, shivering from his touch.

“I have too”, Webs said in a soft voice. “They’re counting on me to keep them safe. It’s late already.”
“All the more reason to stay here and enjoy the time left. You’d really go out there with a crotch-full of drying jizz?” he taunted, and Spider-Man sighed heavily.
“No, that would really be of bad taste.”

Wade couldn’t stop himself from smirking, victorious.

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

What was he doing? His self-control was gone through the window and he didn’t want the night to end – much like Wade, if the arguing was any proof. He’d just wanted to kiss Wade again, to make him feel better, to stop him from spiralling down. And, alright, yeah, he wanted to kiss him for purely lustful and selfish reasons. He hadn’t expected their brief encounter to be so passionate and desperate enough that a bit of rutting against each other would set him off. Either it had been longer than he thought, or he had great chemistry with Deadpool. It probably was a bit of both.

He flinched when Wade’s warm, broad hand, until then gently holding his side, moved slightly so that his fingernail dug harshly into the peak of his nipple, sending a jolt of painful pleasure through his body. He could also feel Deadpool’s hard length against the apex of his thigh, and the guy was really packing something down there. He would have been jealous if he didn’t have the prospect of getting acquainted with it in the near future.

“Fuck, the things you do to me ‘Pool”, he groaned, arching lightly under him.

A high-pitched scream of absolute terror rose into the night and in an instant, Peter was on his feet, hard-on forgotten as his spider-sense tickled faintly. Briskly, he gathered the strewn papers from Weasel’s folders and pushed them in his messenger bag, messily webbed to the roof.

“Want to come with?” he offered, extending his hand to the mercenary.

Wade pulled his own mask down, reminding Peter that his was still rolled up, and nodded.

“Let’s go save the widow and the orphan”, he agreed, sliding his arm around Peter’s waist, the other around his neck.

His swinging was a bit choppy from having only one hand free, but they made it to the scream’s origin quickly and without any problem. Said scream kept on, interrupted by loud sobs and loud calls for “Papa”. From above, they easily saw the little girl – she couldn’t be more than four – standing in the middle of the alleyway gloomily lighted by flickering lights. Not far away, there was a staggering silhouette quickly decomposing, but even more rapidly approaching the screaming child.
Peter’s heart stuttered when he realized they wouldn’t make it in time.

“This doesn’t count”, Deadpool said, and surprisingly fast, he had a gun in hand – his Desert Eagle he had so gleefully boasted about when they’d cleaned up his place – and he pulled the trigger.

The zombie’s head exploded, spraying gore everywhere, and the child only screamed louder – but the zombie had collapsed, dead.

“Drop me down there”, Deadpool said. “Try to find her family.”
“But-”
“I can handle a child”, Wade countered, “despite what you might think, and we need to clean up ASAP. You’re not immune, as far as we know, whereas I am.”
Peter bit his lip and gave a sharp nod.
“Be careful”, he said, lowering them both and dropping the man in the alley.

He spared a moment to watch, worried, as Deadpool approached the little girl and pulled a piece of cloth from a pouch of his belt, putting a knee down beside her. Reassured, he swung upwards and quickly enough, he found a hysterical young man looking everywhere and calling.

“Spider-Man!” he screamed as soon as he saw him. “My daughter let go of my hand and I can’t find her, and I heard her scream but-”
“Around four, with blonde pigtails and a green dress?”
“YES! YOU’VE SEEN HER!”
“Stay where you are, I’ll get her back to you as soon as possible.”
“No, I need to see her! Where is she?”

Peter dropped down and gently grabbed the man’s shoulder. He had blonde hair too, though lighter than his daughter’s, and green eyes.

“Listen, there was an incident and right now it’s dangerous to go this way. My buddy is with her, taking care of her. So stay here, where you are safe, so we can return her to you as quickly as possible.”

He jumped up before the man could protest and made it back to the alleyway where Deadpool was still talking to the little girl. He had her wrapped in a blanket, her dress kicked away, and he’d taken his gloves off to vigorously rub her drenched hair. There was a discarded bucket at his feet, and a pool of water at the kid’s feet.

“Look!” Wade said excitedly, “it’s Spidey! He’ll take you back to your dad now, you’re all clean!”
“Did you seriously dump a bucket-full of water on a child?!” Peter asked as he crawled down, avoiding all splatters of brain matter and blood to grab the child when Wade held her up for him.
“The blood was probably contaminated, so I did the best I could”, Deadpool protested. “It’s not transmitted by contact, that’s what you said, right?”
“As far as I know”, Peter replied, holding the little girl tight. “Are you hurt?” he asked her. “Even if it’s just a scratch, you must tell me.”

She shook her head, and he let out a relieved sigh. She was unlikely to have caught it – the virus acted fast, she would have been dead or nearly, by now.

“You found her family?” Deadpool asked, head tilted aside.
“Her father”, Peter replied. “I’m taking her back to him.”
“Alright”, Wade nodded. “I’ll start cleaning up this place, you don’t want to linger here.”
“Try… not to make too big of a mess, alright?”
“Can’t promise anything, baby boy”, Wade said with a wink, and Peter rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious. An explosion is more likely to spread the virus than to kill it, you want to tread carefully here.”
“I may be crazy but I’m not an idiot, Webs. I’m a biohazard myself, c’mon. Now shoo, her father must be worried sick.”

Peter couldn’t help his smile and he crawled a bit farther up before swinging away, the child holding onto him tightly with her green eyes opened wide. He landed near her father, who ran up to them and hugged his daughter tightly.

“Lena! Doll, never ever let go of my hand again, I was so worried! Are you alright?”

She nodded.

“…Why are you drenched? What happened?!” he asked, looking back to Peter.
“Like I said, there was an incident and she was caught in the middle of it. She got in contact with a biohazard, so my partner did his best to clean her up. I’m sorry about the dress but it was too dangerous, we can’t risk any contamination.”

The man nodded and buried his face in his daughter’s neck, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Thank you, Spider-Man. She’s everything to me.”
“You might want to give her a shower quickly”, Peter replied. “And… maybe consider taking her to a psychologist or something. Things got messy.”

Like a zombie getting his head blown up right in front of her, for example. That wasn’t traumatizing at all. Not so far away, Spider-Man recognized the sound of a muffled explosion. Right. Wade.

“Thank you for the advice”, the man said. “Keep on doing… your hero thing. New York needs you.”

Spider-Man smiled under his mask, saluted and swung away briskly. He could already smell the smoke, and he was surprised no one had called the firefighters yet. He landed as close as he could, the smoke obscuring everything, the warmth of the flames already reaching up to him – along with the cloying smell of burnt flesh that nearly made him gag.

“Deadpool!” he called.
“Hey, Spidey! I, hum, I’m not really visible right now”, Wade’s voice answered from somewhere within the thick, black smoke. “But I’m nearly done!”
“…What do you mean, ‘not really visible’?”
“I mean buck-ass naked”, Wade hollered, “and believe me it’s not sexy.”
“And why aren’t you clothed, pray tell?”
“I’m avoiding contamination, duh. So I’m burning my suit. As well as our corpse and everything that has blood on it.”

Peter couldn’t exactly berate him for his unlikely carefulness, but this seemed a bit over the top.

“While I’m sure you’re quite familiar with the burning corpses activity, you do realize it will be a missing person? And that there will be an investigation?”
“Duh”, Wade answered. “I found his wallet in his pocket. Burnt the wallet, kept the contents in sealed plastic bags and- OW, bitch ass fire- YES YELLOW HOW BRIGHT OF YOU.”
“I’m genuinely impressed”, Peter answered, just as Wade launched said plastic bags, tightly bound, and he retrieved them with a web. “Now, I believe you can come out. Unless you plan to burn alive.”

The absence of answer was all the answer he needed and he took in a sharp breath, now pissed off.

“POOL.”
“Don’t worry”, Wade replied, though now he sounded strained. “I’ll be back in no time.”
“I will kick your fucking ass”, Peter yelled. “Don’t move, I’m coming down.”
“Unnecessary! And unadvisable. It’s getting hot in here, though, and despite what I’d like to say, it’s not because of you.”
“Now you’ve done it”, Peter muttered through clenched teeth.

He could see nothing, but he had his hearing and his spider-sense. It’d have to do. Swiftly, he swung into the smoke, closing his eyes when it became unbearable and going in blind. Of course, Wade was standing between two walls of fire, unable to escape without getting burnt. Which he had already, if his laboured breaths and small sounds of pain – so small, in fact, that a normal ear wouldn’t have picked them up – were telling anything. It was surprisingly easy to grab him and haul him up though the grunt of pain, followed by some wriggling to wrench out of his grasp, didn’t exactly help.

They landed on a heap on a nearby roof, and Peter quickly pulled his mask up to clear his lungs. He’d inhaled some smoke, nothing his healing factor couldn’t handle, but it was still deeply unpleasant. He couldn’t imagine how Wade must have felt. He tried to open his eyes, but his tears made his vision so blurry he might as well keep them close.

“I had no intention to flash you like this”, Wade said, sounding worried.
“I can’t see a thing”, Peter replied. “Your modesty is safe.”

Too warm hands grabbed his cheeks, their strange texture making him wonder just how burnt Wade was. Surely he would have screamed a bit more? It had to be painful… Thumbs wiped his tears and he blinked again.

“Keep your eyes close”, Wade said. “Believe me, it’s better that way. For you and for me.”
“I’d offer you my change of clothes back on the roof, but I seriously doubt you’d fit in my pants.”

Wade huffed out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t even fit a leg in it, Webs. However, the jacket would be nice. You wore it better, of course, but if I could not be arrested for exhibitionism, it would be great.” Gently, he took his hand. “Let’s go. No swinging, just parkour. I’ll be your eyes.”

Peter had already noticed how silent Deadpool was when he tried to be, despite the combat boots and flashing personality. But now, it was even more obvious. He could barely hear the sound of his naked feet hitting the ground as they started to run. He hoped they were too high and that it was too dark for anyone to see them, he could already read the Bugle’s headline if they were caught on camera. Luckily, the roof where they had settled wasn’t that far and his eyes burnt a lot less when they got there. He heard Wade ripping his web off and blinked once more, catching a glimpse of a powerful, if very naked, silhouette. He nearly dissolved into laughter when he realised the strange lumps on Wade’s waist and thighs were his belt and his weapons. He had burnt the suit. Not, of course, his precious Desert Eagle.

“Thank you for saving me”, Wade said, much closer now. “You didn’t have to, but you did it anyway…”

Peter reached up to cup his cheek, accidentally poking his chest on the way up, his eyes still running water.

“You’re not dying on my watch, Wade”, he whispered. “Need a lift back home?”
“Nah, I’ll call for my ride. Hurry back to yours, Webs. You need some good shut eye… and a shower. You’re covered in soot.”
“Whose fault is that”, Peter grumbled. “Take care.”

He startled a bit when he felt something against his lips, but almost immediately recognized Wade’s mouth. It was a chaste kiss, over as soon as it had started, and when Peter finally managed to open his eyes, Wade was gone. He picked up his bag and found the plastic bags in it, tucking them safely down the bag before he decided to swing home.

He threw his bag in a corner and stepped into the shower, tugging off his suit there to avoid trailing soot everywhere. The hot water ran in dark rivulets to the drain, as his thoughts wandered back to his strange day. From the pancakes with Wade, to their date to Sister Margaret’s, their making-out on the roofs and the new victim, a lot had happened in one day. The reasonable part of his mind told him he should be focused on finding what was happening exactly, but his thoughts kept on going back to Wade. To his warm kisses and how good it felt. To his coming undone so quickly, blood running hot just at the thought.

He groaned when he realized his thoughts had wandered a bit too far, to the image of Wade’s gloved fingers wrapped around his cock for example, and that he was now horny as hell. Like once wasn’t enough. Thank you healing factor. He glared down at his traitorous dick and thumped his head backward against the wall. There was no going to sleep like this. He thumped his head two more times, weighing his options. Before, taking the matter in his own hands had been an obvious solution. He’d stopped after MJ broke up with him, because he couldn’t get off without imagining it was her, that everything was alright – or not, that they were angrily making up on the pillow. And it hurt too much, the bittersweet pleasure soon more bitter than sweet. He couldn’t think of anyone else, so he’d just… stopped.

But now, there was Wade. There was Wade, and while he’d broken up with MJ a mere three months ago now – three months already? – their sex life had been long dead. He hadn’t gotten laid in at least a year, and strangely enough, its appeal was making itself known again. He wanted – he bit into his fist, wrangling with the thoughts invading his mind. He lusted.

The chime of his phone going off startled him out of his meditative trance and he reached out the horrendous off-white, greying shower curtain for it. It was waterproof, and investment he’d made years ago after he’d realized how often he got tossed in something liquid as Spider-Man. He swiped his thumb on the screen to unlock it: it was a message from Wade. Damn Wade. Lovable Wade.

 

From: Daddypool.
Thx again for saving my ass out there, Webs.

From: Daddypool.
I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s driving me crazy.

From: Daddypool.
Well. Crazier.

To: Daddypool.
I couldn’t just let you out there to burn. You’re an asshole but you’re a lovable one.
I can’t stop thinking about you either.

 

He was about to lock the phone and finish taking his shower when it started to ring. The walls were very thin and he berated himself for not simply putting it on silent, and he had to swipe several times before he managed to answer Wade’s call.

“Wade?” he said, and damn he sounded a bit breathy, and the temptation to sneak his hand down was oh so great.
“Baby Boy”, Wade rumbled on the other side of the phone. “You should be sleeping already. What’s taking you so long? Can’t sleep?”
“Shower”, Peter answered, leaning completely against the wall, clenching his fist so it wouldn’t roam south on its own accord.
“Mmh”, Wade answered. “A long shower. Being naughty, Spidey?”

Peter shivered and muttered a curse as his cock twitched from Wade’s voice and words.

“It’s… complicated.”
“Are you having a sexual crisis? Because you seemed pretty confident to me. Allow me to assuage your doubts: you’re definitely into men.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Thanks, Dr. Pool, I knew that already. It’s a… different kind of crisis.”
“Get out of that fucking shower, Spidey. You’ll use up all your hot water and get sick again.”

Peter found himself obeying before he could think about it, which was mildly disturbing. Sometimes, MJ would order him around and he used to love it. But like everything else, it tasted bitter, now. He resolutely pushed the thought of MJ out of his mind and focused on drying himself quickly, breathing sharply when he neared the crotch area.

“Well done, Spidey”, Wade praised him through the phone – he probably could hear the water pouring down and then stopping.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping too?” Peter asked, trying to redirect his attention as he ruffled through his clothes to find a clean pair of pyjama pants.

He thanked himself for making his laundry that afternoon when he pulled on the soft, old grey pants he was wearing down to holes.

“Definitely”, Wade answered. “Webs, you sound exhausted.”
“I am exhausted”, Peter admitted, “but my mind won’t stop working.”
“Damn, Baby Boy, I wish I was there to help you take your mind off things.” There was a pause and he heard the sound of a car door being closed. “Want to tell me more about your crisis?”

Peter felt his heart stop. Talk about MJ and how he’d amazingly fucked things up? How much of a wreck he was? Disclose that the hero Wade adored was nothing but a smoke screen for his useless self?

“No”, he finally blurted out. “N-Not yet, at least.”
“No pressure, Spidey”, Wade answered. “Though you should know that I absolutely don’t mind starring into your fantasies, whatever they may be. Just putting this out there.”

Peter chuckled tiredly.

“Thank you, ‘Pool. I’ll make good use of this permission.”

He heard Wade swear off the phone and the sound of a door closing.

“You’re a menace, you know that?”
“The Bugle did call me a ‘masked menace’, yes”, Peter quipped as he flopped down onto his bed.

He didn’t want to hang up. Tomorrow was a Sunday – well, technically it was already today – and Sundays were The Worst. Because Sundays were the day he would visit Aunt May back when she was alive, a year and a half ago. Because Sundays were the day Uncle Ben died, all those years ago. Because Sunday was the day MJ had finally snapped and told him she’d had enough. Because Sundays were a wretched day he found no use for. He hated Sundays.

“’Pool”, he said softly into the phone, blinking in the dark at his ceiling, “have you ever thought that if you went to sleep and didn’t wake up, it wouldn’t be a bad thing?”

There was a pause, and a long silence, before Deadpool answered.

“All the time”, he answered in the same soft voice. “Why?”
“Tomorrow is Sunday”, Peter answered. “I hate Sundays.”
“What did Sunday do?”
“Take me all the people I loved. I’m so tired, ‘Pool. So tired. I try to keep on fighting, but there’s always a new villain to catch, and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

There was a rustling at the other hand of the line, and Wade’s voice was softer and clearer when he spoke.

“It’s worth it, Spidey. You saved so many people, people who would never have come back home if not for you. You give hope to a lot of us, including myself. I’ve always looked up to you, you know. I could never be like you, but I would give anything to be as close as someone like me can be. It’s okay to be tired, Webs. But you have to keep on rising again, because that’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is”, Peter replied. “It’s just… so damn difficult, sometimes.”
“For what it’s worth… Spidey, if you went to sleep and didn’t wake up, I’d be devastated.”

Peter didn’t know what to answer to that. It was like he’d been drifting in high water for so long, and finally he had something to anchor himself to, and it was… scary.

“Webs? You still with me?”
“Yeah”, he replied, yawning. “Do you mind staying on the phone while I fall asleep?”
“Not at all”, Wade answered. “Anything you need, Spidey.”
“You’re too nice, Wade.”
“No”, Wade retorted. “You only bring out what few good is left in me. Sleep tight, Spidey.”
“Goodnight, Wade.”

Peter rolled onto his side, face tucked in his pillow, his phone just next to it. The screen told him Wade was still online, and he could hear the soft breathing of the man. Like this, it felt a bit less lonely. He could almost imagine Wade was falling asleep beside him, and the idea was strangely comforting. His lips twitched into a smile, and he slipped into sleep unaware.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade ached. Physically, because healing burns always itched horribly. But he could handle physical pain. No, Wade ached in his chest, in his heart, and while he was familiar with the concept, it didn’t mean it was easier to deal with. The day, and even more the evening, had been a roller-coaster of emotions. But now, he hurt for Spider-Man. He hurt to know his hero felt… God, he understood all too well how he felt. If he could wrangle that peculiar demon out of Spider-Man’s mind and kill it with his bare hands, he would. But he couldn’t, and while his own mental illness was a hassle to deal with, Spidey’s… hurt. It hurt something so deep within him he had thought it dead for a long time.

Spider-Man had fallen silent on the other end of the line, and Wade concluded that he was sleeping. He cut the call and took a deep breath, before getting up from his worn-out couch and untying his jacket from around his hips. Luckily, Dopinder wasn’t one to mind his appearance nor his weird, erratic behaviour. Not that the man didn’t have serious issues himself, Wade was pretty sure the whole debacle with Bandhu was unusual to say the least.

[No shit. He tasered the guy, tied him up and threw him in his trunk. ALL FOR THE LOVE OF GITA.]
{And we all know how well that worked! This is my favourite love story!}

“I’m pretty sure killing your rival in love is considered bad manners”, Wade protested.

{Yeah but he got the girl.}
[Fair point.]

“Yeah okay that’s fair”, Wade conceded as he made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. “And it was on our advice, might I add!”

{Everyone knows we’re such a heartbreaker.}

“And I want to know who broke Spidey’s”, he growled, roughly lathering himself in body wash. “Things were going so well too!”

[If you put aside the fact that Project X has apparently come back from the grave after TWENTY-FIVE FUCKING YEARS.]
{Way to remind us that we’re like, old. Old as balls.}

“I’m pretty sure we stopped aging when we became immortal”, Wade pointed out. “Also, after all the trouble Webs went through to prevent us from dying, the least we can do is remain stable enough to, I don’t know, maybe not commit suicide?”

{Spidey wouldn’t like that.}
[We would. The sweet, sweet release of death.]

“And the matching migraine? Yeah no”, Wade barked out, laughing. “No, we’re not doing that. However, that fucker Weasel could have warned us. He’s such an asshole.”

[You… You do realize you never told him the details, right? How was he supposed to know? YOU WIPED OUT PROJECT X WHEN HE BARELY HAD ANY STUBBLE TO SPEAK OF.]
{He never had more than a stubble.}

Wade paused, contemplating the fact that Weasel wasn’t getting any younger. Which was a weird fact, when he’d been so young when they met. Though, given his line of work, it was a miracle he’d lived as long as he did.

“We are not wallowing in our own misery”, Wade said through gritted teeth. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. But right now, helping Spidey is more important. He said he hates Sundays because it took him all the people he loves. I don’t know whether he was being a drama queen or sincere, but we can’t leave him alone.”

{Surprise him with another breakfast! ‘And in the morning… I’m making waffles!’}
[As tooth-rotting sweet as this is, I want to remind you we have no idea where he lives, dipshit.]

Wade towelled himself dry as he listened to White and Yellow’s unusually friendly banter. They’d both taken to Spidey, which he was grateful for. He didn’t need then spouting hate at his hero. Also, the waffles were a good idea. He collapsed on his bed and scrolled through his phone, smiling to himself at the array of Spider-Man articles he’d collected over the years. He’d always loved the guy’s witty repartee, but to find out how much of a goof he really was, and how well that worked with his own violent brand of humour, had been a true climax. Spider-Man, from up-close and personal, was even better than the swinging hero he appeared to be.

{We swing too. Both ways.}
[Violently. With a bat.]

Wade groaned.

“Pleaaase.”

[Don’t you think it’s something we should address? First bullet point, Spidey is not as straight as we thought.]
{Wearing a spandex costume to fight crime? He sure as hell isn’t.}
[AND he pretty much told us this was not a ground-breaking illumination for him.]

“Bi-derman, Bi-derman, Does whatever a Bi-der can”, Wade hummed to himself in the darkness of his own bedroom.

{Oh I LOVE that song!}
[BUT he’s still going through some sexual crisis. I’m voting for a problem with premature ejaculation.]
{Evidence would point to that, yeah.}

“What have I told you about assuming things?”

[Not to. But since when have I ever listened to you?]

“You got me there.”

{I want to talk about our daddy issues.}
[What the FUCK is wrong with you?!]

“How about our authority kink? We all love that one and Webs did too!”

There was a moment of merciful silence as the boxes thought back to the blessed moment Spidey had indulged them and Wade shivered at the memory of his strong hands gripping his hips, and the sound of leather meeting spandex. Spidey’s rough chuckle and his five-o’clock shadow scratching oh so deliciously against his sensitive skin. Heated kisses that had made him feel like he was fifteen again.

{You think Spidey would agree to roleplay as a military officer? Indulge us?}
[For all we know he could be retired military.]

Wade snorted.

“Yeah no, he’s not. I mean, have you seen him? There’s no way he’s got military experience. But I’d love to see that bod in a uniform. Did you see those arms ?”

{I want to suck him off.}

“Me too, buddy”, Wade sighed. “Maybe he’ll let us. What’s a little blowjob on a rooftop between two interventions?”

[You’re such a charmer], White said drily. [Woo him with waffles before pulling out the heavy artillery.]

“Now that’s just mean”, Wade whined. “Don’t you want to get laid too?”

[I want to know what’s going on with him before we put our heart on the line.]

“Wow slow down there cow-boy! We talked about blowing him, not proposing!”

{We could propose too}, Yellow pointed out. {I’d definitely put a ring on that.}
[Stop burying your head in the sand. We all know this is much more than just sex for us. We’ve admired Spider-Man for pretty much our whole life, and you can’t deny we’ve already started to fall in love. There’s already not much left of our heart, we can’t have it broken again.]

Wade froze.

“White, what do you mean?”

[This could drive us over the edge. We’ve been doing better, these last few years. Trying to be stable enough for Ellie really pulled your head out of the gutter. Do you want all of this to go down the drain because your dick wants some action?]

“You’re such a killjoy, White. We can handle rejection.”

{Well we didn’t exactly handle rejection from Cap…}

“NOT YOU TOO!”

Wade sat up on his mattress.

“I have enough self-control to know it can go to shit, okay? Let me enjoy while it lasts.”

[Suit yourself.]

Wade huffed. He needed to sleep to aid his body fix the damages from the fire – more extensive than Spider-Man knew, that was for sure – but his mind went from one idea to another. The amazing sex with Spidey, Project X, the pancakes that morning, Spidey sitting in his lap at Sister Margaret’s. He closed his eyes and he saw Webs’ warm, dark brown eyes. He was sure he would never forget such a powerful gaze – like the wall-crawler could see straight to his soul, past all the ugliness and posturing. There was compassion in those eyes, not directed at him specifically but at humanity at large. There was also a heaviness he could recognize as duty.

 

He fell asleep without realizing and, for once, didn’t sleep a mere four to five hours but a full, ten-hours night. He woke up refreshed, if thirsty as hell, and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was noon already, so unless Spidey had slept in, he would have no use for an invitation to breakfast. Scratching his stomach, he thought that he ought to put on some clothes. Instead of doing that, though, he started the coffee-maker and pulled out everything he would need to make waffles. It was surprisingly nice to have a clean home and food in the pantry. His phone chimed just as black coffee started to pour into his mug, and he grabbed it to find a message from Spider-Man.

 

From: Baby Boy.
U busy?

To: Baby Boy.
Not too busy for my favourite spider. What’s the matter?

From: Baby Boy.
Can I swing by?

 

Wade found himself smiling goofily at his phone and he hurriedly threw on a large sweat, sweatpants, socks, thin silk gloves and a clean mask, before he turned back to his waffle making.

 

To: Baby Boy.
Sure, anytime.

 

Thirty seconds later, there was a knock at his window and he nearly dropped his spoon in surprise. He hadn’t expected Spider-Man so soon, but luckily he’d dressed before answering.

[He was already here when he sent the message, there’s no other way.]

He hastily opened the window, where his new friend was waiting, already clad in spandex – but he had a backpack on. Spider-Man gracefully hopped inside, and Wade sighed.

“He’s beauty, he’s grace…”
“I’ll punch you in the face”, Spidey completed, though his mouth quirked up in an amused grin.
“Come in, I’m making waffles”, Wade said, ushering him inside.
“If they’re anything like your pancakes I want in”, Webs replied, putting his bag down.
“I am the cooking king”, Wade affirmed. He hesitated a second and finally asked: “Do you feel better? You were pretty down last night.”

Spider-Man tensed and shrugged.

“Better now that I’m here. Things have been really shitty lately and you’re pretty much the only positive thing here.” He let out a breath. “Buuut… Sleeping helped. Thank you for indulging me and staying on the phone, by the way.”
“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not exactly a great listener but I can try. That’s what friends do, anyway.”
“I don’t want to dump all my problems on you, Wade.”
“Nonsense”, Wade retorted, pulling out a chair for him as he finished making the dough for the waffles. “Tell me the sob story, Yellow loves to cry.”

He could tell Spider-Man was pondering what to tell, and was sure he would opt to say nothing at all, when Spidey broke the silence.

“Well, at least it pushed me to visit my aunt’s grave. I used to visit her on Sundays, which is why…”
“Sundays feel empty”, Wade finished. “Yeah, I know what that’s like.”

[We know too much what that’s like.]
{I miss Blind Al. And Va-}
[Don’t you dare say her name], White growled menacingly.

“Were you close to her?” Wade asked, genuinely curious and ignoring the boxes.
“Very”, Spidey replied softly. “Even though she never knew I am Spider-Man. She was… like a mother to me. She raised me, and for a long time it’s been just the two of us.” The hero chuckled. “She was one of the few who could honestly call me out on my bullshit. I guess that’s why I’ve been making mistake after mistake since she died.”
“It’s recent, then.”
“A year and a half”, Spider-Man replied. “It’s… She lingered. She was diagnosed with a cancer, too late for anything to be done. She was such a strong woman, and I hated seeing her so diminished.” He looked down. “At the end… At the end, I think I was praying for her death. I couldn’t bear to see her suffer like this and not being able to do anything.”

Wade’s breath caught in his throat, and he had to pause for a minute, overwhelmed. He understood. He understood way too much.

“Cancer’s a bitch”, he finally said, turning to put the plate of waffles on the table – a bit more violently than he wanted to. “I would know, I have one.”

Spider-Man looked up to him, frown visible even through his mask.

“Didn’t you say you have a regeneration ability?”
“Yup. Got cancer, was going to die. Got this offer for an experimental treatment where they activated mutant genes in those who had it. Did it, against my better judgment might I add. Cancer’s still here, but my regeneration is faster so I don’t die.” He looked straight back at Spider-Man. “I can tell you feel guilty for wishing her death, but believe me it was a mercy. You loved her, it’s obvious just hearing you talk about her.”

There was a silence, and Spider-Man started to sing, his voice rough and on the edge of breaking, filled with emotion:

“Death doesn't discriminate / Between the sinners and the saints / It takes and it takes and it takes…”

Wade did the only thing he could think of: keep going.

“And we keep living anyway. / We rise and we fall and we break / And we make our mistakes.”

It was obviously the right decision, because Spidey’s voice gained in power, even though it wasn’t exactly just, it sounded true.

“And if there's a reason I'm still alive / When everyone who loves me has died / I'm willing to wait for it.”

Gently, Wade grabbed his fingers and even without seeing his face, he knew, at that moment, that they understood each other. They both knew what it meant to be alone in high water, with no light in sight.

[I’m gonna barf.]
{Fuck you this was the best duet of all times!}

Spidey held onto his fingers tightly and closed his eyes, looking down for a few minutes, and though his shoulders were barely moving, Wade had the distinct feeling that the man under the mask was crying, mourning silently. So he held on tighter, rubbing his thumb over the spider’s knuckles in an attempt to soothe him.
Eventually, Spider-Man took a deep breath and released his hold on Wade’s fingers.

“Thank you, Wade. For… everything.”
“Here, have a waffle”, Wade blurted out, slapping a waffle into Spidey’s plate. “Daddypool’s are the best.”

Spider-Man chuckled and lifted his mask to free his mouth, grabbing the maple syrup Wade had apparently converted him to and squeezing some on his warm waffle. They ate in comfortable silence, the waffles doing wonders to improve Spider-Man’s spirits.

“I think I’m addicted to your cooking”, Spidey said as he licked the last sugar on his fingers, and no Yellow this is not sexy, this is NOT.

[Who are you trying to fool, exactly? You already have a hard-on.]

“You can have my jacket back if you want”, Wade said before he could think about what he was saying – he really ought to invest into a brain-to-mouth filter.

Webs paused and stared at him through his mask.

“…It’s your jacket, though.”
“Yeaaaaah but. You looked good in it. And you could… I don’t know, sleep in it?”

Spidey smirked.

“So you have no secret motive to want me to wear you jacket and sleep in it?”
“I never said such a thing”, Wade protested. “The thought of you touching yourself with just my jacket on did not cross my mind before I saw you in that damn jacket.”
“Kinky.”
“WILL YOU STOP KINKSHAMING ME”, Wade screeched, and Spidey laughed for the first time today, and Wade let out a relieved sigh as he smiled too.
“I have every right and reason to kinkshame you”, he pointed out.

{I’m sure Spidey is very kinky. He dresses in spandex and uses fine bondage material to travel.}

Wade paused and burst out laughing, startling Spider-Man.

“Oh-em-gee, Yellow just called your webs bondage material! I can’t unsee it now!”
“Damn, me neither”, Spidey groaned, thumping his head against the table.

Wade’s phone went off on the kitchen worktop behind him, and he grabbed it to find a message from Weasel.

“It’s Weasel”, he said for Spidey’s benefit. “Says he has reports about two people infected last night. One is probably the guy we found, the other is…” He re-read the message and let out a soft “fuck”.
“What is it? Someone you knew?”
“One of ours”, Wade replied. “Twiggy. Not that I cared about her much, but if the crowd from Sissy Margaret is getting infected already, it’s bad.” He didn’t miss Spider-Man’s confused expression. “Mercenaries get everywhere and travel internationally. Most have… let’s say, dangerous practices. We’re literally the best vessels to get this to a pandemic level.”

Spider-Man nodded and cleared away the plates, putting them in the sink.

“I have the documents from yesterday night. We could go over them again… try to find a common point. Was this Twiggy a ‘vulnerable’ person?”

Wade shook his head.

“I’ll have to do some digging but no. She was fierce, and extremely good at her job. Mostly, she took thieving jobs. She wasn’t an addict, as far as I know, and she had no money problem… or at least that I know of. Like I said, it’ll take some digging.”

Spider-Man grabbed his backpack, opened it and took out the ID from the victim they couldn’t save the previous night, along with the documents Weasel had provided them. Wade stood up and, while Spider-Man organized everything on the table, he quickly washed the dishes before he forgot to do them, and cleared a wall in the living-room.

Swiftly, he picked up the photos from the victims and stacked them to the wall, adding colour-coding from the disappeared ones, and the confirmed dead by virus exposition. There was also their asylum-bound witness, Joshua Jefferson. He added two blank sheets, that he quickly labelled “Twiggy” and “Roman Berisha”, and stepped back, only to run into Spidey who observed his work with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Your Eugene Thompson”, Wade started, “was he vulnerable too?”
“His ego was vulnerable”, Webs replied. “I haven’t kept tabs on him, you know. We kind of hated each other. But last I saw him was when there was this explosion in the upper levels of the Daily Globe, two years ago. He was there for whatever goddamn reason and got blasted out through the window. I managed to get him in time, but there was nothing that stood out about him.”

Wade hummed and added the information on a post-it next to Eugene. Maybe it was completely unrelated. Maybe not. The guy was military, and he had disappeared two months ago already, which made him the one who’s been missing first… and potentially, patient zero. He grabbed his phone and thumbed in a message for Weasel – need intel on Roman Berisha. Died yesterday, zombified.

“I don’t think Flash is related to this”, Spider-Man blurted out after a moment. “Look. He disappeared two months ago, right? The zombies only appeared fifteen days ago, according to the first reports of bones being found. That would bring our total of victims to seven. All incredibly close in time, and located in New York City.”
“We can’t rule him out yet, though”, Wade retorted. “Project X… Alright”, he breathed. “You know what I told you, about the experimental protocol to activate mutant genes? How it ‘cured’ my cancer? That’s Project X, and I sincerely hope this has nothing to do with our zombies.”

Spider-Man frowned, and flipped through Flash’s heavily censored file. He needed the whole file, but it was already incredible that Weasel had managed to get all of this in so little time.

“His medical file says nothing about a cancer or anything related, however he was seriously wounded during a mission… the where is censored, of course”, he skimmed over the text, “but… oh, fuck. It says here he lost both legs eight months ago, he had to be amputated above the knees.”
“There, you have your vulnerable. Both to Project X and to the fuckers behind our zombie virus. I’m not removing him from the chart yet, though your observation is totally true.”

Spider-Man nodded and pulled a notebook out, which he opened and quickly copied information from onto a sheet. He stacked said sheet on top of the wall after he crawled up there, along with another written VIRUS Z in red sharpie.

“You know what, ‘Pool? I wish I could have had a wall like that when I was trying to figure out who the Green Goblin was”, Spider-Man said. “Maybe I could have stopped him sooner…”

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Memories – unpleasant memories – hit Peter at full speed, and he cursed himself for mentioning the Green Goblin and its two incarnations. Both dead because of him.

“Why couldn’t you?”
“Uh?”
“Why couldn’t you have a wall like this? Nothing stopped you”, Wade asked, clearly curious.
“Secret identity”, Peter replied, waving at his own masked face. “And I was still living with my Aunt at that point. She already thought I was a bit too obsessed with new masked terror Spider-Man, imagine if she’d walked into my room and found a wall dedicated to tracking the Green Goblin? And after that, for the second Green Goblin, I had a flatmate who would quite often burst into my room. So, no wall for me.”

“Wait- Rewind a bit, the second Green Goblin?”

Peter blinked. Crap, he’d never meant to reveal this. He was the only one who knew now – he’d never told MJ, god no, it would have destroyed her – and he had meant to drag this secret to his grave.

“There were two Green Goblins?!” Wade asked, flapping his arms about.

Peter let out a heavy sigh.

“The Green Goblin was the first villain I fought, and also one of the most dangerous. Right up there with Doc Oc, except I knew who Doc Oc was. They’re also the only ones who discovered by real identity and used it against me. Anyway, I- I fought the first Green Goblin in the ruins of an old house, and I was clearly going to win, when he pulled off his mask.” Peter breathed. He’d never told this, but now that he had started, he couldn’t seem to stop. “He was… my best friend’s father. A man I respected and admired, and whose opinion I cared about. He was clearly confused and begged me to help him, and I- I fell for it. I was young and naïve at the time, I guess”, he added with a harsh laugh. “He had no intention of redeeming himself, he was just stalling as he got his glider in place so the blades would skewer me. I was lucky my spider-sense warned me in time and I was able to jump out of the way. He was not so lucky. He got impaled on his own glider.”

Peter made a conscious effort to unclench his fingers while Wade stared at him with his mouth gaping open.

“Before he died, he asked me- He asked me to keep the truth from his son. I couldn’t- He had become a father figure to me, I couldn’t expose him for the world to see. So I shed his armour and brought him back home. His son- My best friend, he arrived and he saw Spider-Man laying the corpse of his father on a sofa. He thought I’d killed him, and rightfully so. He swore vengeance.” Peter shrugged and looked at Wade. “The Green Goblin was gone with no one knowing what had happened to him and it was enough for me. Until my best-friend discovered his father’s secret and followed in his footsteps, intent to kill Spider-Man.”
“Damn. That’s tough”, Wade replied. “I remember now, when the Green Goblin suddenly reappeared. I’d noticed he glided differently, but I assumed he was out of practice, not that he was another person altogether…”

Peter barked out a laugh.

“My rational mind told me it couldn’t be the first Goblin because I’d seen him dead and gone to his funerals, but that didn’t stop me from seeing his ghost everywhere I went. It was actually worse when I realized it was my best friend under the mask, trying to kill me.”
“Did he relent? When you explained what had happened?”
“I wish”, Peter said, his mouth twisting into a complicated expression. “But no. I had taken the only family he had and betrayed our friendship… He saw nothing but a monster, and it took me a long time to stop seeing the same thing.” He paused again, the memories coming back, still oh so painful. He had loved Harry like a brother. “We fought.” His lips twisted into a smirk. “It was a Sunday, just after the bells had tolled the end of service. There was a storm that day, and it was as dark as if it’d been night. We fought until I was out of web-fluid and he’d crashed his glider. Then we brawled on the rooftops. He-” Peter gulped, no longer in the living-room with Wade but back on that rooftop during a dark, gloomy Sunday. “He tripped on the edge, and I was not fast enough. Twenty stories is a very long drop to the ground, you know.”
“I know”, Wade said softly. “It’s no wonder that sometimes, you look like you’re carrying the world.”

Please Peter, take the world off your shoulders. Peter startled at the memory. MJ had begged him during one of their numerous fights. Once they were young and full of hope, and they had thought they could do this. She had believed she could stay by his side even though he was Spider-Man just as much, if not more, as he was Peter Parker. She had thought she could be strong enough to take the world off his shoulders and give him some rest, some comfort. The truth had been harsh, for the both of them.

“Anyway”, Peter said, his breathing stuttering as he gestured to the wall, “the wall thing is very cool.”
“You can drop by anytime you want to take a look or add something”, Wade replied.
“I won’t intrude more than I’m already doing”, Peter tutted. “This is your private space, Wade, not a conference room.”
“You really have a hard time accepting that people might want to do nice things for you, uh”, Wade said with some bite to his voice.
“Uh… Sorry?” Peter replied, wincing.

Wade stalked close and Peter stamped down the urge to step away from the looming mercenary. Deadpool lifted a hand and Peter’s spider-sense tingled.

“OW! THAT HURT!” he cried out when Wade gave him a fillip on the forehead.
“I don’t want to hear ‘sorry’, I want to hear, ‘thank you Wade, I’ll take you up on the offer. It’s kind of you’. Stop apologizing for everything, I don’t care about your apologies. The only ones I want are from my marks when that’s what I was sent to get. You’re not my mark, are you?”
“I hope not”, Peter mumbled, rubbing his brow. “You’re such a brute.”
“Get used to it”, Wade retorted. “And stop protesting when I offer to do something.”
“Sorry”, Peter said again, only to get harshly pinched to the thigh. “OW!”
“If you want to apologize that much, you should consider getting into BDSM. I’m not opposed to the idea- not at all in fact, I should have said that sooner… where was I going? Ah, yes. I’m not opposed to make you cry out your apologies for all the wrongs you seem to think you’ve done, but only during a planned out scene. Capeesh?”

Peter had rarely been more grateful for the mask hiding most of his expression, because he was pretty sure he had all his emotions written on his face. He was having a hard time coming to terms with what had just happened. It wasn’t the first time someone reproached his tendency to over-apologize – MJ, thinking about you – but Wade had apparently pinned down his psychology quite well in very little time. Finally, he managed to pull himself together enough to ask:

“Is that the so-called carrot or stick principle? You hurt me if I apologize?”
“I can reward you when you don’t to get you out of the habit”, Pool offered. “I’m all in favour of using both.”
“Stop hitting me”, Peter replied, hiding a smile.
“I did not hit you”, Deadpool protested. “I hit on you.”
“With you it’s kind of the same thing”, Peter pointed out.
“These violent delights have violent ends / And in their triumph die, like fire and powder / Which, as they kiss, consume.”

Peter paused, gaping.

“Did you just recite some Shakespeare to me?”
“I’m a cultivated kind of guy, you know”, Wade pointed out. “I even read Twilight.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from laughing at Wade’s antics.

“I don’t believe you”, he said, slipping his fingers under his mask to wipe his tears of laughter.

Wade seemed to be deeply offended by his disbelief, and suddenly Peter found himself with his head gently, amorously cupped in Wade’s gloved ones.

“Even more, I had never meant to love him. One thing I truly knew - knew it in the pit of my stomach, in the center of my bones, knew it from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, knew it deep in my empty chest - was how love gave someone the power to break you”, he rumbled, his voice deep and dark, and Peter shivered, entranced by how into it Wade seemed to be.
“Alright, I’ll bite to the bait. Why did you read it?” Peter finally said, trying to regain his senses, cheeks still cupped by Wade’s hands.
“I like to keep up to date.”
“With vampire romance? Really, Wade?”
“Alright you got me, I like the steamier ones”, Wade admitted, tightening his grip and in doing so squishing Peter’s cheeks in a ridiculous pout.
“There must be something else.”
“Yes. But I’m not telling you yet.” He released him, though he remained close, and gently traced a finger down his cheek. “We haven’t reached that level of trust yet. Maybe we never will, we don’t know where life will take us.” He seemed to consider his own words, and smiled, his teeth showing and really, Peter shouldn’t stare but Wade’s teeth were perfectly straight and white, like a Colgate ad, especially for a guy who made a job brawling. “When you take off the mask and let me see your face, when you tell me your name and I know where you live… Then I’ll tell you.”

Peter’s expression softened.

“It must be pretty important for you then”, he said. “Alright, I’ll be patient.”

He looked back at the wall again and scowled.

“I don’t know what kind of dipshit did that, but there’ll be hell to pay.”
“That’s my line, bub. You took the wrong script”, Wade retorted. He was looking at the wall too, and finally he gestured to it with his chin. “Why do you hate him? What did he do?”

Peter followed his gaze, and fell on Flash’s picture. It was strange how, even after all these years, he resented him. He’d tried to forgive him, but Flash’s words and actions had aimed specifically to hurt him – frail, weak, nerdy Peter Parker. He’d known for a long time that Flash admired Spider-Man. No, it was a very personal kind of hate. Maybe he had changed since their high-school days – he hoped so – but he seriously doubted it. The guy had chosen a military career, after all.

“Nothing that matters here. It’s personal. It’s… my civil persona’s problem, not Spider-Man’s.”
“So what, the things you live as Average Joe don’t matter once you got the mask on? I have serious doubts, otherwise you wouldn’t be so intent on protecting your identity.”
“Never call me an Average Joe again”, Peter playfully threatened, trying to push back the bile rising in his throat as he recalled Flash’s abuse. “Flash was a bully when we were in school. Like I said, it’s very personal.”

Deadpool crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles bunching up, and Peter found himself staring. Again.

“He was not just ‘a’ bully”, Wade deduced. “He was yours, specifically. This guy tormented you when you were young, nubile Average Joe.”
“Very. Personal.”

Deadpool’s stance relaxed, confusing the hell out of Peter.

“I’m glad to see you have a minimal of survival instinct. And the capacity to hold a grudge. I would be very worried otherwise. Though to be honest, if I were you, I would probably have smashed his teeth in when I got a chance.”

Under his mask, Peter flushed, and it peeked on his cheeks where the mask was rolled up.

“I… Kind of did, actually.”
“Wow, really?” Wade asked, leaning forward in excitation.
“I’d just gotten my powers, and I wasn’t… I didn’t become Spider-Man straight away. I was an arrogant, self-righteous little shit who just happened to have super-powers. So, yeah, when he came for me I stroke back.” He smiled sadly. “It was at school so of course my Uncle learnt about it. He told me I was changing, and it was up to me to decide what kind of man I wanted to be. That just because I had the power to strike back against someone, didn’t mean I had the right to.” He paused. “He said, ‘with great power comes great responsibilities.’”
“I did hear that before”, Wade quipped. “I’m not a do-gooder like you, but I do agree with your Uncle on that point. My notion of good is obviously not as pure as yours, but ever since I’ve had the power to rid the world of some assholes… I did.” He paused. “For what it’s worth… I think your Uncle would be proud of the kind of man you chose to be.”

Peter laughed.

“You don’t even know my Uncle!”
“He was obviously a wise man, and you loved him. That makes him a good man in my book.”
“Your opinion on me is way too high, ‘Pool. I’m afraid of what will happen the day I stumble and fall from that pedestal.”
“I help you get back up”, Wade replied with a grin. “You’re a hero, sweetie. You’re my hero, and just because you’re also human doesn’t make you less worthy of my admiration. ‘'That person who helps others simply because it should or must be done, and because it is the right thing to do, is indeed without a doubt, a real superhero.' See, wiser men than me already said it.”
“I have no idea where you pulled that from, nor how you can remember so many quotes”, Peter replied, awed.
“I have photographic memory, when my brain doesn’t scramble it up, that is. Basically, the memories I have are all very clear, but they’re not necessarily organized chronologically or with any other kind of logic. And sometimes I straight up forget things and then it’s gone. Poof.”
“You are an elephant.”
“Rude, Spidey.”
“No, listen, it’s very logical! Elephants have an incredible memory, and they’re incredibly empathetic animals. You. Are an elephant.”

Wade cocked his head aside.

“No one’s called empathetic before.”
“Then they’re all idiots.”
“Obviously, you’re so smart baby boy.”
“Exactly my point”, Peter replied with a smile. “Now, I should get going. Now that your place is cleaned-up, I really have to do mine before it’s time for patrol.”
“I’ll just assume you don’t want my help because we’re not at that point yet”, Wade said.
“That”, Peter agreed with a nod, “and my place is a glorified broom closet. It would be really cramped with you in there.”
“I like tight places”, Wade retorted with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Really, really cramped”, Peter deadpanned. “Save the ‘huddling for warmth’ for another time, the weather is not that cold yet.”
“What about ‘and there was only one bed’?”
“I mean, in that case, obviously things can go south”, Peter laughed. “Where did you even get that?”
“The internet is a wild place, Spidey”, Wade replied as Peter gathered is things. “Goodbye kiss?”

He’d said it like a joke, but Peter definitely felt the current of self-doubt underneath the proposition. He crossed the room back to Wade and cupped his cheeks to peck his lips.

“Goodbye kiss”, he whispered back.
“That’s not a kiss”, Wade protested, “that’s teasing.”
“I really don’t want to swing back home with a boner”, Peter chuckled, “so the teasing will have to do.”
“Yeah I imagine it must be uncomfortable”, Wade mused. “See you soon? Not at tonight’s patrol because I’ll probably won’t be back from investigating our victims, but later?”
“I’ll text you”, Peter said with a nod as he backed away and opened the window.

He had jumped and was swinging out when he heard it. Wade, leaning out the window with the speakers at full volume.

“FRIENDS NEVER SAY GOODBYE”, the merc wailed, attracting quite a few gazes from the street down below, and Peter chuckled, bit his lips and finally relented, going back towards Wade and using his phone to override Wade’s Bluetooth connection. The longing song brutally stopped and instead another, more joyous, rose.

It's been fun but now I've got to go
Life it way too short to take it slow
But before I go and hit the road
I gotta know, 'til then,
When can we do this again?

Peter knew he’d made the right choice when Wade burst out laughing and blew him a kiss. Yes, they were definitely doing that again.

*

Peter was glad he had gone to Wade’s, because now he had energy to actually do things. He wondered if spending a lot of time with Wade would cause something akin to a sugar high and he had the sudden urge to find out – but no, no, he had to be a reasonable, adult human being. So he got started on housework and managed to get his place decent and have his dinner ready before it was time for him to leave for patrol.

That night, patrol was busy enough to not let him get bored, but nothing remotely interesting happened. At least he had used enough energy to get a good night of sleep before his job interview: if he could land this job, it would be perfect. His money supply was getting to a critical low, that his monstrous appetite didn’t exactly help. He was eternally grateful to Wade for feeding him and his hell-hole stomach.

He had his appointment with Mrs. Hartford at 9 a.m, so he left early enough to not get crushed in the morning rush after gulping down his coffee. It was way too early to be up and he was running on nerves and coffee, which usually didn’t make for a good combination. But it seemed that, for once, the Parker luck hadn’t struck him down. He made it in time, with a polite five minutes spare, his clothes appropriate for a job interview, clean and freshly ironed. He was cleanly shaved, he had brushed his hair and even trimmed it a bit to look cleaner. If you excused the dark circles under his eyes and the bitten down nails of his hands, he was fairly sure he looked every bit like a teacher should.

And yet, he was nervous. Mrs. Hartford was a stern woman in her fifties, with pronounced cheekbones and greying hair pulled in a tight bun. She looked quite a bit like Mrs. Jameson, his former boss’s wife, and he had been rightfully afraid of her.

“Good morning, Mr. Parker.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Hartford. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

So far, so good. He was pleasantly surprised by how skilfully he handled the whole ordeal, and by the time he said goodbye, Mrs. Hartford’s features had relaxed into something more amenable, and she even let herself smile as he shook her hand.

“I’ll be in touch with you very soon, Mr. Parker”, she said.

The odds were in his favour. He wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not – usually, he wasn’t so lucky. So as it was, he expected things to go south dramatically.
Mrs. Hartford called in the evening, and it wasn’t as dramatical as he expected.

“Can you tell me why I wasn’t picked?”
“Well”, Mrs. Hartford said, “for one, you’re seriously and ridiculously overqualified. You should be working in a pharmaceutical firm, like Osborn Industries, Alchemax, Stark Industries or even the Life Foundation, not teaching high-schoolers. You are brilliant in your field, Mr. Parker, and it would be a shame to not make a good use of it. And besides, we couldn’t possibly give you the salary you ought to have. Our second reason is that you don’t have enough background working either with children or with teenagers. Another candidate fitted both those expectations perfectly, so the board chose that candidate. However, I do want to compliment you on your exemplary behaviour, and the skill you showed during the interview. I can only wish good luck in your search, and good things for the future.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hartford”, Peter answered before she hung up.

Overqualified. Yes, that up there was the old Parker luck. He wanted to laugh so badly he cried. Taking a breath, he opened the fridge to make himself some dinner. Mostly empty. Morose, he finally pulled the half-empty cereal box from the pantry and poured some in a bowl, along with the last of the milk. To hell with all of this, really. What other option did he have now?

Parker? But he’s a journalist, what would he want to do here?

Peter dropped his spoon. Weasel. Sister Margaret’s. He hadn’t seriously considered the opportunity, mostly because he really hoped to land the teaching job, and also because… well, mercenary lair. But it was just serving drinks. To a bunch of criminals, sure, but he wouldn’t do anything criminal. In fact, maybe it was even better if it was him working them rather than some innocent civilian desperate for a job. He could stop things before they escalated. Hell, he could intervene as Spider-Man with greater efficacity if he kept an eye on the offenders. The hours worked well with his biology – he was a night-owl, after all – and Spider-Man could also patrol and do good after work and during daylight hours. Yes, this was perfect. How had he not thought of it sooner?

He wolfed down the rest of his food, hesitated between donning the suit under his clothes and keeping low, and in the end decided that Weasel was cunning and dangerous. He would not wear his suit there – not yet, at least. Not for the interview. He was careful in his choice of clothes: he couldn’t wear something Weasel had seen Spider-Man wearing, so the wife-beater and the skinny jeans were automatically ruled out. The jeans he settled on were nice, if completely out of fashion, and his plaid shirt was probably three sizes too big, but it hid his web-shooters well. Would he need a CV? He didn’t know. He grabbed one, along with his phone and his wallet, and was on his way.

He found Sister Margaret’s quite easily, even though he had only gone there once, and entered after taking a deep breath. Inside, nothing had changed – nothing surprising considering he’d been there two days ago. The crowd was the same, and Weasel was still behind the counter, but no one was sitting at the bar. It seemed to be a slow night, and Peter approached as he felt quite a number of eyes turning to observe him. Weasel put down the bottle he was holding and looked at him.

“Hello”, Peter said, Weasel’s eyes boring into him. “I’m Peter. Parker. I was told you’re looking for someone to tend to the bar.”
“Well shit”, Weasel said, gaping. “I didn’t expect you to turn up.”
“And yet here I am”, Peter said, opening his arms. “Weasel, is that it?”
“Yeah. You ever worked in a bar before?”

Peter shook his head.

“Nope. Delivered pizzas, was a freelance photographer for a while, and then journalist. But I’m a fast learner and I’m good with my hands.”

Weasel grimaced.

“Please never say that again. I’m not the kind of boss who will stand up for you if you get harassed.”

Peter snorted.

“I didn’t expect you to be, no.”

Weasel eyed him in silence for a moment, assessing him.

“Shift starts at 7:30 p.m and ends at 3:30 a.m every day. You’ll get a twenty minutes pause to eat something because I won’t have you collapsing here. You tend to the patrons – make their drinks, refill, etc. – and you help me with clean-up before you go. I hope you don’t mind blood, or mindless violence, but if you’re here I’ll assume your friend Spidey told you what to expect.”

Peter only rose an eyebrow. Yeah, of course, Spidey had told him.

“You don’t ask questions about the deals. You don’t touch the cards; you don’t take them from the guys. Drinks and cleaning, that’s all.”
“Well I’m pretty sure I can manage that much, yeah”, Peter said with a sarcastic nod, and Weasel grinned.
“Perfect. I give you 30$ an hour, and you keep your mouth shut about this place. Do we have a deal?”

30$ an hour? Damn yes, he was definitely taking this job.

“Deal”, he agreed, shaking Weasel’s thin, bony hand – so fragile it threatened to shatter in his grip.
“Good. Step behind the bar, I’ll show you around. You start tomorrow.”

Peter spent the next two hours learning where things where stored and how to make cocktails, though there were more than he expected, and he noted to himself to make cheat-cards he could stick under the counter while he learnt everything. There was already one notecard, with a tiny Deadpool drawn on it, and he peered at it as soon as he got a chance: it was recipe for Wade’s pancakes. Weasel seemed satisfied enough with how fast he’d adapted to Sissy Margaret’s, soon mixing the most common drinks with ease.

Peter left after exchanging numbers with his new boss – the thought that Weasel was his boss was a bit chilling, and yet the idea that the guy who ruled over the most infamous underground place employed Spider-Man was absolutely hilarious. Also… 30$ an hour? That made 240$ a night and that was, like, half of his rent. He’d finally be able to renew his wardrobe. Sure, there would be criminals all over the place, but as long as they were there, they weren’t hurting bystanders. He’d rather know there was a snake in the garden, than to wonder whether it was in the house: he could watch over them, this way. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade was cooking sausages on the stove when he got Weasel’s message.

 

From: Weasel
Fucking finally! I have someone to help with the night shift.
You’ll never guess who.

 

Wade didn’t even have time to ponder, his phone was already chiming again.

 

From: Weasel
Peter Parker. The one and only.

 

That made Wade pause. So Spider-Man had relayed the message. And even more amazing, his photographer had taken the offer up. So much for staying safe, Peter was apparently a daredevil – Wade had guessed that years ago, from the guy’s photos, especially those of Spider-Man, though there had been that close-up from the Winter Soldier that only a man with balls of steel could have taken. And now he was going to work in the mercenary lair where Deadpool spent his time. Damn, he couldn’t wait to meet the guy. He was also fairly curious about what he would look like – not as much as he was intrigued by Spidey, but close enough.

 

To: Weasel
Told you the guy needed the job. You never listen to me.

 

His phone buzzed again, but this time it was someone else. Someone he really wanted to see… and couldn’t. Not today.

 

From: Baby Boy
Patrol tonight?

To: Baby Boy
Sorry BB boy, no can do. Rain check?

From: Baby Boy
Sure. Stay safe.

 

“You made dinner? I could have done it, you know. I cook too.”
“I have no doubt you took that from me, but allow me to spoil you, Ellie”, Wade replied as Ellie closed the door and pulled off her shoes.

He cut off the fire under the sausages and put them on two plates, which he set on the table, and looked at his daughter. Ellie looked a lot like her mother, but she had his grin and his memory. He’d loved her from the moment he’d first seen her, twelve years ago. She was a teen now, and it was harder to hide things from her. On the switch side, it made conversations with her more interesting.

“How was your day?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her for a hug.

She scrunched up her nose.

“I got detention.”
Again? What for, this time?”

{WOOH, that’s our girl!}
[But what if she got in danger, uh?]

“Nothing you wouldn’t be proud of”, Ellie protested energetically. “I may have broken a Nazi’s nose. That’ll teach him to spout racist bullshit.”
“That’s my girl” Wade laughed, ruffling her hair. “But you know Preston will ground you. Again.”

Ellie shrugged and smiled mischievously. Wade booped her nose.

“Go put your bag in your room and wash your hands, dinner is nearly ready.”

She did as he asked and sat down at the table, watching as her father whistled while he tended to the food.

“You still seeing Spider-Man?” she asked.

Wade nodded and grinned, turning to face her. For close to five years now, his Mondays and Thursdays had been dedicated to Ellie. Agent Preston had a night-shift and it was easier for her if Wade remained to take care of his daughter – all in all, a perfect arrangement for them. At first, it had been difficult for him to be functional for so much time, but by now he was getting the hang of it. There were still many things Ellie couldn’t know, but he was fairly certain he wasn’t doing too bad.

“He is the best”, Wade said with warmth as he served two plates.
“I’m jealous he got to see your place and I don’t. Seriously, pops, wouldn’t it be better for you if I came over on Monday nights?”

Wade sighed and shook his head.

“We talked about this already, Ellie. It’s too dangerous. People could learn that you’re my daughter. Bad people.”
“You taught me how to fight.”
“Only as a precaution. Besides, my place is not child-proof.”
“That excuse would have worked when I was like, three. I won’t put my fingers in the socket and you know it. If I remember well, you were the one who electrocuted yourself last time.”
“Don’t remind me”, Wade groaned. “No, seriously Ellie. I’m working on a thing with Spidey and it’s dangerous. I don’t want you somewhere you could be in danger. You are safe here.”

Ellie huffed, knowing she wouldn’t win that particular argument that night. They tucked into their food and she set out to tell him about her day, recounting her Nazi-smashing encounter with great detail. Once they were done, she put the dishes in the dish-washer and started it while Wade set up the TV for them to watch a movie. She huffed once more, this time in laughter, when she saw the giant pillow-fort her father had made.

“Sometimes I really wonder if you realize I’ve grown up”, she said as she crawled into the fort and settled on her stomach next to Wade.
“There’s no age-limit for pillow-forts”, Wade replied, affronted.

They watched a dumb horror movie, laughing together, and once it was done, Wade sent her to bed while he dismantled the fort. She had wondered for a long time where and when her father slept, and her childhood self had come to the conclusion that he didn’t. Her teenage self knew he had to sleep, but she still had to see it.

She would have been surprised to learn that her younger self had been right: Wade never slept on Monday nights. He was usually too keyed-up for that, and he didn’t want Ellie to see him without his mask. It had already been hard enough when Preston had insisted he ate dinner with her instead of just watching her – that she was old enough now. Wade laid down on the couch and pulled out his phone. There was still an hour to midnight, Spidey would either already be on patrol, or getting ready to. Shrugging, he thumbed in a message:

 

To: Baby Boy
How’s patrol, Baby Boy?

 

He didn’t really expect an answer – or at least, not immediately, but a minute later he was watching a video Spidey had taken while swinging, his phone apparently webbed to his chest. It was incredible and breathe-taking, making him itch to join the hero in his antics. Instead, he settled for a string of emojis to convey his awe. He knew he’d scored when Spider-Man replied with an incredible selfie, mid-fall, with an amazing lightning that seriously reminded him of a professional photography. He itched to be out there, swinging with him, and yet he liked to be so close to Ellie. Swiftly, he changed Spider-Man’s contact image to this selfie and replied with a bucket-full of hearts.

He dropped his phone on his chest and stared at the ceiling. One day, he hoped to present Ellie to Spidey… but it would take time. He cherished his girl too much, no matter how much he trusted Spider-Man, he couldn’t act rashly. Not anymore. Did Spider-Man have children? He doubted it. Spidey simply lacked the… vibe. And it was fine in Wade’s book, though he liked the idea of seducing single-father!Spider-Man. No, Spider-Man was a lonely soul, and that was why they had connected so well and so fast.

Thinking of Spider-Man only brought back the memories of all the things he had confided in Wade. The lingering death of his aunt, and the one of his best-friend. Wade had followed the fights between newly-discovered Spider-Man and the Green Goblin religiously, twenty years back, and… He took a breath. Spider-Man wasn’t old now, even though he was tired like he was, but he had been so goddamn young when it happened. No wonder he was so tired already. He couldn’t imagine how it must have been to face all of this, alone, utterly alone… Or maybe he could? He’d been alone after Project X, lost and afraid and angry… It was not the same kind of betrayal, but he wasn’t sure which was worst. At least he hadn’t been friend with anyone of the Project.

He shook himself: it never did him good to dwell on the past, and while Ellie’s presence was usually enough to shut up the boxes, he didn’t want to tempt them too much now that she was asleep – or at least, she should be sleeping. He knew she probably wasn’t, and that was also why he couldn’t bring himself to sleep when he was with her. Sitting up, he hooked in headphones so no noise would disturb her and started a game that would distract him enough, while not asking for all his braincells to act together. He paused sometimes between missions to check his phone, and chuckled to himself at the photos Spidey sent him – the thugs he’d caught, a food-truck, his feet dangling at the edge of a building, and an incredible view of Manhattan from the very top of the Empire State Building. It was wonderful… and yet, a feeling of loneliness permeated from the photo, and Wade had no idea how Spidey had done that but one thing was sure: Peter Parker had serious competition in the “taking photos of Spidey” business. From the man himself, no less.

He was dozing off when his phone started to vibrate in his hand, the caller ID indicated it was the wall-crawler.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Spider-Man quipped from the other end of the line.
“Nope”, Wade replied, popping the p. “I never sleep on Monday nights. Secret DP business.”

Spider-Man hummed.

“I wanted to warn you that my patrols will be later from now on”, he said. “If you’re still up for it.”
“Oh?” Wade asked, more alert now, and yet keeping his voice low. “You know I’ll be meeting you no matter what.”
“As long as it’s not Monday night”, Webs replied teasingly. “I’ll tell you where to meet me.”
“Alright. Go to sleep now, Baby Boy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, ‘Pool”, Spider-Man replied cheerfully.

Wade hang up and lowered the phone, only to startle when he saw Ellie standing in the middle of the living room, staring at him.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping? I’m pretty sure you should be sleeping. It’s like…” He checked his watch. “Three in the morning. You definitively should be sleeping.”
“I was thirsty”, she replied, nodding to the kitchen, but there was something weird to her voice. “Was it Spider-Man?”
“It’s rude to listen in on phone calls”, Wade chided her – even though he’d done that on more than one occasion.

She rolled her eyes and came to sit down beside him, easing herself against his side for a hug. There was a long moment of silence before he realized the light shaking he felt were the sobs wracking her body. Heartbroken, he carefully cradled her closer. He wanted to gently rub at her hair, but his gloves would make it awkward, if not painful. Steeling himself in the dark – the only source of light was the dimmed television screen – he took of his gloves and started to pet her head, trying to comfort her.

“What’s wrong, Ellie?”
“I c-can’t tell you”, she whispered between her sobs.

And ouch, that hurt.

“Bullshit”, he replied, “you know you can tell me anything.”
“N-No”, she shook her head.

[Maybe it would be time to worry, now.]
{I think we’re actively trying not to panic.}

“Ellie, are you hurt? Please sweetums, I’m worried sick here.”

She perked up suddenly.

“Can I borrow your phone?” she asked, wiping her tears.

{That’s… probably not a good idea.}
[Well, Spidey sent no dick-pic do it’s probably safe enough?]

“Alright”, he replied warily, thumbing in his password and handing it to her.
“I’ll be back quickly”, she replied, taking the phone and running back to her bedroom.

Wade realized he was in over his head when he heard her door close. Should he call Preston? But then, Preston would probably never entrust her to him again.

{We should kill whatever bastard made her cry.}
[Yeah, exactly.]

“We’re not good at parenting”, he lamented.

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Peter had only taken off his boots when his phone rang. Grabbing it, he answered with a laugh.

“Missing me already, ‘Pool?”
“Spider-Man? Oh god I hope you’re Spider-Man and not his boyfriend.”

And that… was not Wade’s voice. Not at all.

“You’re not Deadpool”, he said carefully. “But I am Spider-Man, yes.”
“Thank god”, the young girl on the other end breathed. “I got the nickname right. I need your help, Spider-Man.”
“Tell me.”
“My best-friend… She just got kidnapped”, the girl said. “We were on a video-call together, she was at the Aimee Triangle, between Madison and Marine Park. Please, Spider-Man. Please help her.”
“Alright”, Peter immediately replied, sticking his phone between his shoulder and his cheek so he could pull his boots back on. “And you, are you safe where you are?”
“Yes, don’t worry about me”, the girl replied. “She’s the one in danger. Her name’s Hope, she’s tall and slim, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a leather jacket with studs. Please, they told me not to tell anyone or they’d-” She choked on a sob. “Please”, she repeated.
“Don’t worry”, Peter replied. “Just stay where you are. If I call back to this number, can Deadpool reach you?”
“Yes”, she replied with a gasp. “Y-Yes.”
“I’m going to hang up now to go after your friend, okay?”
“Okay”, she replied. “Thank you, Spider-Man.”

This was beyond weird, and maybe it was a trap, but Peter couldn’t not go. He swung as fast as he could, and easily found Hope’s phone on the ground. Her friend had probably called quickly after…

“Spider-Man”, a voice called, and he looked around until he found a homeless man coming up to him. “A girl just got kidnapped…”
“You saw her?” he asked urgently, and the man nodded.
“They stuffed her in a black SUV, I think it was a Ford. Going East. They didn’t see me and they were trying to blend in so you can probably catch up to them.”
“Thank you”, Peter called, immediately webbing his way eastward, and indeed the car was stopped at a red light among others.

It could have been any car, if his spider-sense hadn’t been tingling like crazy as soon as he got close. The windows were tinted, so he couldn’t see anything – but the car was stopped, it was his chance. He lightly, soundlessly landed on the roof of the car and stuck his fingers to it as the car started to move again. They drove with their clandestine passenger to the docks, where Peter leapt away, up to a container. The doors opened, and four armed men stepped out, dragging an unconscious girl with them. She was just a teen, but wealth was written all over her clothes. They would probably ask for a ransom.
It was his luck that they didn’t expect him, as he easily webbed the men to the surrounding containers – until the last one pulled his gun on the girl.

“If you so much as twitch, she’s dead”, the man threatened, his gun hitting the girl’s temple.

Her eyes blinked open and almost immediately, fear settled.

“There is no need for threats”, Peter called, holding his hands up. “Please, just let the girl go.”

The man seemed to hesitate – obviously, killing the girl was a mess he didn’t want, not when it was supposed to be a simple kidnapping. Years of experience had taught Peter when was the exact moment where he could snag the gun out of the hands of a menacing thug, how to recognize it and use it to maximum efficiency. Even though it was a very delicate operation, it took a few seconds: the gun flew, Peter grabbed Hope with a web and pulled her away, and he tripped the thug. He caught Hope before she could stumble and proceeded to cocoon the gangster in a web, analysing the threats and deeming the coast clear before he turned back to Hope.

The teen ran up to him and threw herself into his arms, obviously shaken if the quake of her shoulders was anything to go by. Gently, he hugged her, trying to comfort her, petting her head.

“It’s alright, Hope, you’re safe.”

Eventually, she pulled away and wiped her cheeks.

“H-How did you find me so fast?”
“You were very lucky”, Peter answered, smiling. “The friend you were on the phone with called me. Here”, he added, handing her back her phone. “How about calling her to reassure her? And then we’ll call the police to take you home and take care of these criminals.”
“Thank you, Spider-Man”, Hope replied, her hands shaking as she grabbed her phone and unlocked it.

Her friend on the other end picked up as soon as it had rung, apparently, and Peter discovered a teen girl of about the same age, with black curly hair and bronze skin, who gasped out in relief when she saw Hope safe and sound, Spider-Man to her side.

“Thank you, Spider-Man. Oh- Sh- See you later, Hope!” she said before she hung up.

Afterwards, they called the police and Peter waited with Hope until they arrived before swinging away, glad the night had ended well. Even though it was close to five in the morning when he finally arrived home, and he was exhausted. He took off his suit and collapsed on his bed in his underwear, too tired to shower, and fell asleep immediately.

He slept until noon and showered then, pulling on some clothes before he headed to the closest café for a black coffee and something to eat, now that his pantry was empty. He only worked in the evening, so he had time to spend his last few dollars on food. The night’s salary would be very welcome, indeed. He also grabbed a sandwich for his pause, knowing he would also eat after patrol, and went home to cook his very late lunch. His life would be… well, he would keep strange hours, starting today, but it wasn’t like he had enough social life to make it a big deal. He pulled his suit on under his baggy clothes and clasped the web-shooters around his wrists under his long, too-large sleeves and stuffed all he would need in a backpack before heading out.

Weasel greeted him with a grunt, and his presence behind the bar quickly attracted the mercenaries attention, but all in all they weren’t numerous enough to keep him very busy yet. It was nine on the dot when a familiar red-clad figure stalked in, and for the first time Peter paid attention to how Wade's presence commanded attention. People hadn’t stopped in their tracks, no, far from it, but it was as though every single person’s attention was on the man. Not only was he tall, broad and dressed in red, but he also sported a good array of weapons, and had this… presence, about him, that made him impossible to ignore.

Peter felt strangely naked and yet ecstatic at facing Wade without his mask – without being “Spidey”, but only Peter Parker. Deadpool sat at the bar and finally looked at Peter, who smiled.

Deadpool froze.

Chapter Text

~~WADE ~~

It had been a weird night. Ellie had come out of her room long enough to give him his phone back and Wade had panicked more than a bit when he saw a new call to “Baby Boy”. But then, close to an hour later, she had come out of her bedroom and explained what had happened, and Wade had been overwhelmed by a good number of conflicted emotions. He was proud and worried and vexed all at once – he could have brought Hope back too, Ellie should have confided in him!

But she had curled against his side and looked at him with all the seriousness she could manage so late at night, so he had listened.

“Pops”, she said, “when I’m with you, I’m not with Deadpool. I’m with my father, who is a goofy oddball. And… And tonight, I didn’t want you out in the street. Spider-Man dealt with the problem. I wanted you here, with me, because if Spider-Man hadn’t managed to bring her back and I’d been alone… I don’t know what I would have done.”

It was in moments like this that he remembered what it meant to be a father, exactly. He had spent most of his day thinking about that, before he decided to drop by Sissy Margaret’s for Peter’s first day. He was curious to see the man behind the lens.

His jaw nearly dropped when he found himself facing the infamous Peter Parker. The guy was closing in on forties, his dark brown hair streaked with white on the temples, but he was also an absolute hottie. He seemed perfectly at ease there, behind the bar, serving drinks, and then he spotted Wade and he smiled. Wade swore his heart had stopped.

Slowly, he sat on a stool, devouring the man with his eyes, moving up to finally meet his eyes. And this time, he really nearly died of a heart attack: warm brown eyes that held the weight of the world were staring back at him, and he knew these eyes, he’d seen them before, and it made sense but he couldn’t believe it – he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he-

He would have recognized Spider-Man’s eyes anywhere, they had burnt into his soul, and yet he couldn’t believe it. His gaze dropped to Peter’s left hand and sure enough, just like Spider-Man, Peter Parker sported the thin white band of skin where his wedding ring was missing. Peter Parker was Spider-Man. Spider-Man was Peter Parker. Peter Parker was absolutely gorgeous. Spider-Man had a filthy mouth and the most amazing kisses. Spider-Man and Peter Parker were one and the same.

{HOLY SHIIIIIT}
[I wasn’t expecting this one, I admit]
What do I do?
{Kiss him. Don’t lose that opportunity!}
[DON’T DO IT. We’re not supposed to know. Just… act normal.]
{…We have never acted normal in our life.}

Wade gulped, and finally managed to summon a smile.

“Well, cat got your tongue?” Peter said with a quirky smile. “And here I was thinking I’d finally hear the famous Merc with a Mouth.”
“I didn’t expect such a cutie in a dump like that”, Wade finally said – {Smooth, Wade} – “but you must be Peter.”
“Word travels fast, I see”, Peter retorted, leaning forward. “So, what will you take?”
“You?”

And Peter laughed and it was Spidey’s laugh and wow, Wade’s mind was blown. He had started to fall in love with Spider-Man, but Peter Parker… Peter would make him fall even harder.

“Nice try, Mr. Pool. Real smooth, too. Alas, it would seem I’m working. So, what will you take?”

And that… wasn’t a no? Of course, Peter was Spider-Man, but still. He had blushed as he answered and how was Wade supposed to survive that?

“A Blowjob.”

Peter’s eyebrow went up.

“You’re doing it on purpose”, he said, grabbing a glass and starting to mix the drink.
“Who wouldn’t tap that?” Wade replied, pointing at Peter, and he turned even redder.
“Stop flirting with my barman, Wade”, Weasel cut him off. “That’s gross.”

Peter laughed and set Wade’s drink in front of him, but his fingers didn’t leave the glass – instead, they delicately fingered the rim and Wade was transfixed, his eyes glued to Peter’s fingers.

“Wade”, Peter said, and his voice was low and sultry, because apparently he delighted in flustering Wade when it should have been the opposite.

Wade’s attention snapped back to his face and there those eyes were, dark like molten chocolate, and just as warm. Peter slid the drink towards him with a smirk.

“Enjoy your Blowjob, you’ll find no better in this city.”

Wade blinked, definitely feeling himself harden in his pants, before he managed to process what Peter had said. His hand slammed against the counter.

“This is cheating, Parker!” he protested. “How dare you make innuendos to the very one who invented them?!”

Peter laughed, bright and cheerful, illuminating the whole bar, and Wade noticed how everyone seemed to be revolving around him, basking in his light. Peter was a beacon of hope in this dreary place, and they were all moths, intent to burn themselves to his fire.

[Great, now we’re Mothman.]
{Who knows, maybe Peter is a monster-fucker. He did kiss us, after all.}
[Don’t think about it. DON’T.]
{We ARE into that and you know it. Ask him, Wade.}

“Shut up I’m not asking that, what the fuck Yellow”, Wade muttered.
“…Is there a problem, Wade?” Peter asked, and by then Yellow was eagerly chanting monster-fucker.

Wade picked up his glass and stared into it.

“Are you into monsters? Like, would you fuck one?” he finally blurted out when Yellow wouldn’t shut up.

Peter stared back, gobsmacked, and turned as red as a tomato.

“What the fuck, dude”, he chocked, turning away and going to another client to get them their drink.

[Well done. Now he hates us.]

Wade turned aside to lift his mask and gulp down his Blowjob, eyeing Peter when he passed next to him, busy with serving patrons. There was a lull about half an hour later, and Peter stopped beside him, opening his mouth like he was going to talk, but instead turning red again, closing his mouth and shaking his head before finding something else to do. Wade cheered on when a fight broke out, finished as soon as it had started with one of the dudes knocked out immediately. Peter was the one to check whether or not he was still alive, and Wade couldn’t stop himself from admiring his efficiency and professionalism: this was a dude who had first aid training and had already used it.

“He’s breathing”, he declared. “No one wins the dead pool tonight.”

As he went back to the counter, he stopped beside Wade and leaned to talk in his ear.

“It’s called xenophilia, for your information”, he hissed angrily before walking away, and Wade cackled.

Not offended, then, but feeling dreadfully called out. Spider-Man was deliciously kinky, and he rubbed his hands together in a perfectly villainous gesture. He bent over the counter to grab one of the many sheets he knew Weasel kept there, and pulled some pastels from a belt-pouch. Drawing passed time, but it was even more worth it when he slid the crude drawing towards Peter: he’d represented the bartender struggling against black tentacles, whose intentions were very obvious, and he watched with delight as Peter’s face went through a series of emotions before he managed to look back to him.

“Great art”, Peter said with a nod, folding the sheet and pocketing it. “I’m flattered.”

Then, he exchanged a few words with Weasel and opened the small private fridge, from where he took a bottle of water and a massive sandwich, before he slipped outside. Wade waited a total of five minutes before he decided to go after him. He searched for a few seconds before he heard Peter call him from above.

“Were you looking for me, per chance?”

Wade grinned and deftly climbed the fire escape to join him on the roof. He sat down beside him, legs dangling over the void, looking over the dingy block where Sissy Margaret’s was. Peter was eating, and now that they were outside of the bar, Wade could feel the tension draining out of him.

“You seem to be handling everything well”, he said. “I expected you to be overwhelmed.”
“Well, it’s a near thing”, Peter admitted, finishing his sandwich and taking long gulps of water. “It’s very noisy, I’d be lucky to not end up with a headache.”

Wade perked up and searched through his pouches, pulling out a half-empty, pocket-sized bottle of lube, three bullets, a napkin with a phone-number scribbled on it – and he had forgotten whose number it was -, a cool stone he’d picked up for Ellie in the Rocky Mountains during his last mission there and always forgot to give her, three crumpled banknotes of a hundred each, chap-stick, a small black plastic thing he identified as a tip for stiletto heels, an Ikea pencil, three condoms that he should throw out because they were definitely torn, a bottle of pink nail polish, and finally, to Peter’s deep amusement, a box of ear plugs.

“Here, it should help”, he said as he handed him two, stuffing everything back into his pouches.
“Thanks”, Peter said, smiling softly, sliding the plugs in his pocket. “Are you a snail, carrying your whole house with you?” he asked, chuckling.
“Nah, only the essentials”, Wade replied.
“You forgot that”, Peter said, noticing the bottle of nail polish. “And I should go back, it’s time.”

He climbed down without waiting, and Wade followed, clutching the bottle in his hand. There had been a time where he had loved wearing nail polish, but it had stopped when he. Well. When he no longer had nails.

{We fucking rocked that black nail polish.}

Inside, things had considerably calmed down: a good number of the patrons were either too drunk or too drugged to ask for anything, others had left on missions, and some were home. Peter was cleaning the counter, his nose wrinkled as he scrubbed at the wood. He gave in when Wade sat down on the other side, staring at him expectantly, and froze like a deer in headlights.

“Why are you looking at me like that”, he asked cautiously, and Wade brandished the nail polish.
“Can I do your nails pretty please?”

Peter stared at him, looked around and noticed there wasn’t much to do, and sighed.

“Pink crashes with my style. Don’t you have another colour?”

Wade very much wanted to suggest red and blue but maybe that would be too obvious – or Peter would think it a wink to their common friend Spider-Man, but it was too risky. Instead, he rummaged through his pouches and retrieved his crimson phosphorescent nail polish. Ellie loved it and he’d done her nails quite a number of times on Monday nights.

“Red would definitely suit you”, he said, and Peter gave him his hand.

He applied the polish with great care, admiring Peter’s hands all the while. He had long, deft fingers, with smooth nails that had recently been filed into rounded shapes. There were long, thin, white and barely visible scars all over his palms and the back of his hands, and Wade wondered what had caused them. And then, there was the tan mark of the missing ring. He brushed his thumb against it, but didn’t voice the question. Instead, Peter sighed and pulled his hand out of his grasp – luckily, Wade was done.

“Divorced”, he said. “Leave it.”

And, well. Wade could respect that, except he couldn’t understand how and why in the world anyone would divorce freaking Spider-Man, especially since he was so attractive – amongst his numerous qualities. Peter took care of another client, and then two others before someone made a comment on his painted nails.

“Nail polish?” the guy sneered, and Wade recognized one of the less civilized mercenaries who came to Sister Margaret’s. “You fags getting’ everywhere-”

Wade straightened, ready to bolt, but Peter was faster, his hand a tight grip on the guy’s collar.

“Insult me again and you won’t like what will happen”, he threatened, attracting the gazes of the other patrons.
“Damn right”, Wade intervened, because that was not like Spidey to get riled up so easily. “This little guy is under my protection, and you know me, Kyle. I don’t bargain.”

Kyle wrenched himself out of Peter’s grasp, though Wade knew that was because Peter had allowed it, and snorted, eyeing him disdainfully.

“That ain’t the only thing of yours he’s under, I guess.”

Wade was about to put him in his place, but Peter was faster.

“What, you jealous ‘cause you ain’t got any?” he taunted, smirking and imitating Kyle’s accent. “I understand, who would want to fuck scum like you? You’d have to be desperate.”

And wow, that was below the belt. Wade was admirative, he didn’t think Peter had it in him. He nearly choked on laughter, and bodily shoved Kyle away.

“Scram, before I change my mind”, he growled menacingly, and Kyle relented, scurrying away.

Most people weren’t stupid enough to anger Deadpool. Kyle was stupid, but not that stupid. Wade’s attention turned back to Peter.

“That was beautiful. I could kiss you right now.”
“Please don’t”, Peter laughed. “I’m trying to remain professional here.”
“How about the D?” Wade offered with a suggestive wiggle of his non-existent eyebrows.
“I don’t know, what’s the offer?” Peter replied, leaning on the bar with a seductive smile, and Wade’s brain fried.

He gulped and lamely replied:

“I can think of a thing or two…”

Peter pouted, disappointed.

“Only a thing or two?”

{NO! OPEN THE FAP FOLDER, WADE!}

“I’m sure you look pretty down on your knees”, Wade blurted out.
“I do”, Peter replied with a calm nod, even though he was now turning lobster red. “C’mon, I’m sure you can be very creative…” he glanced down, “well, when your blood is in your brain and not in your dick.”

Wade gaped, and oh this was becoming quite repetitive.

“Did you seriously just look at my boner?!”
“It’s a nice boner”, Peter replied way too seriously. “I bet it’d fill me up quite nicely.”
“Uh, guys, gross much?” Weasel interrupted. “Peter, we’re closing down. If you really want that D, you can get it after. And I don’t want to know”, he warned with a pointed look to Wade.
“Like I ever brag about getting laid.”
“Excuse-me?!” Weasel said indignantly. “Just the other day you told me you rutted against Spider-Man’s leg like a dog, and that’s way more details than I ever wanted to hear.”
“I want to hear more”, Peter countered. “That sounds hot, I can almost picture it.”

If looks could kill, Weasel would have properly executed Peter right there and then, and Wade couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Weasel gave Peter a sharp slap behind the head, which Peter could have easily avoided but that made him grin like a fool.

“Seems like I’m already corrupting the new guy”, Wade said. “Time to go home. See ya later, Petey-pie.”

He didn’t actually have time to go home if he was meeting Spider-Man, but he had enough time to buy a bag of chips and down it. Around thirty minutes later, he got a message from the masked vigilante, telling him to meet him at a precise rooftop in ten. He was there well before the ten minutes were gone, but so was Spidey, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the sight of that bubble-butt. It looked better clad in spandex than it did in those ragged jeans Peter had been wearing, and he didn’t really try to stop himself from giving it a slap.

He hadn’t been ready for the loud gasp that fell from Spider-Man’s lips, the sound going straight to his cock as the wall-crawler turned around to stare at him.

“…If you tell me to never do that again, I won’t listen because I’m like, 98% sure you have a spanking kink”, Wade said.

{Of course he does, why else would he wiggle that butt right where we can spank it?}
[Your reasoning, like always, is sorely lacking, but I have to agree this was a good sound.]

Spider-Man rose a finger, pointing it just under Wade’s nose.

“Never do that before patrol again.”
{…Does that mean that after patrol is fair game?}
“You do realize you just sold your soul to the devil?”

He was pretty sure Peter was smiling under that mask at the moment.

“I’m sure you can hit harder, and then it’ll be worth it. Now, c’mon. New York won’t save itself.”

The crowd wasn’t the same, in the middle of the night. Club-goers staggering drunkenly across the street, and way more burglars than just after midnight. It wasn’t exactly easy to not unalive anyone, which was why Wade only used his hand-to-hand combat skills and a sling-shot he’d bought a few days ago. Not as impressive as a bazooka, sure, but damn effective when it came to disarm criminals without killing or maiming them. The night was at its darkest then, hiding them under its cover.
Spidey had been about to call it a night, around five in the morning, probably exhausted by his exceptionally long day, when they heard the crash. They rushed to the scene, only to find a clan breaking into a drugstore. It would have been routine if they hadn’t been trained professionals instead of the simple burglars they were trying to impersonate. Wade saw it as soon as they started to move to retaliate Spidey’s web-shooting, and Spider-Man had seriously under-estimated the threat.

“Careful, Webs!” he called as he jumped into the fray, splintering an ankle in the process and ouch, that still hurt, yep.

Peter realized his mistake just a little too late, when one of the guys tasered him in the stomach, sending him down from the shock.

“WEBS! Now you’ve done it”, he growled, pocketing his sling-shot and getting out Bea and Arthur.

They might have been trained, but he was immortal and had a fuck-ton of experience on them, whoever they were. He skilfully knocked them out with the handles of his katanas, despite his desire to dice and slice, tying them up tightly to leave them gift wrapped for the police. Spider-Man was already groaning and stretching as he got up, and he looked positively murderous.

“Let’s go”, Wade urged him as he heard the sirens in the distance, closing in on them.

Spider-Man grabbed his waist and pulled him harshly against him, shooting a web and swinging them through the city to a roof high enough to be away from everything. Wade could tell his heart was pounding, he could also feel the adrenaline coursing through his own veins. It was not hard to guess Peter was feeling the same. They landed quite roughly on the rooftop, but Webs didn’t let him go. Instead, he held him tighter, breathing short and ragged, fingers digging into his flesh.

“Fuck”, he cursed, “that was a closed one.” His fingers squeezed. “That was magnificent, Wade. You handled that brilliantly.”
“Do I get a reward?” Wade said with a smirk.
“Damn yes”, Peter replied, quickly rolling both their masks up to smash their lips together.

It was rough and it was raw and it was all Wade needed at the moment. Peter bit down on his lower lip and Wade moaned into his mouth, needing more, anything, as he met Peter with just as much force.

“Let me blow you”, Wade finally whispered against his jaw. “I can’t stop thinking about it… Your cock down my throat, I bet you taste so good.” He smirked against his skin, dragging his lips to Peter’s ear. “I don’t have a gag reflex, I bet you’ll like it.”

Peter tensed with desire against him, taking in a deep breath.

“Fuck yes”, he finally replied, tugging Wade down to kiss him again, “yes, Wade.”
“I love it when you call my name”, Wade confessed, shoving Peter against a nearby wall that was in reality a massive chimney, but it didn’t really matter, he had his hand over Spidey’s crotch and it made his mouth water just to think about it.
“Wade”, Spider-Man called breathily, bearing down on his shoulders and sending him down to his knees. “Put your mouth to good use for once”, he growled, and Wade shivered at the sheer power exuding his voice.

He slid his hands up from his knees to the very thin waistband of his pants and pulled it down, baring Peter’s cock, his ass and the top of his thighs, his skin immediately erupting in goosebumps, both at the touch and at the cold air of the night.

{Oh he’s perfect}, Yellow moaned.
[What are you waiting for?!] White urged him, and Wade admired that cock already hard and leaking, longer than he expected, and yeah he wanted it in his mouth yesterday.

Any other time, he would probably had teased and made Spidey wait and beg, but tonight he was too horny to have any finesse. Instead, he dragged his tongue from base to tip and suckled on the crown, tongue lathering it and gathering the precum leaking steadily to taste it. To taste him, Spidey, Peter.

Spidey let out a breathy moan, his fingers cupping Wade’s head, and part of him wanted the hero to just shove him down and make him choke over him. Instead, though, he gathered saliva in his mouth and let it dribble down the warm, throbbing flesh before he slid down. He stopped about halfway there, delighting in the weight on his tongue, the warmth filling him, the taste invading his mouth, and Webs delicious groans of pleasure.

“Ah- Wade, your mouth feels so good”, he said, “like you were meant for this”, and Wade looked up to meet his eyes, daring him to say more. “Like you were meant to suck my cock”, he added, challenging him. “Your lips part prettily ‘round it, you know.”

Wade hummed, pleased, his own cock so hard in the constricting leather pants it was painful. He had half the mind to palm himself, but he wanted to focus on this – on the feel of Spidey in his mouth, on the pleasure he gave him. He pulled back, sucking on the head as he stared back into the eyes of the mask, running light, gloved fingers along what wasn’t in his mouth. And then, he dove down, throat relaxing when Peter hit it and slid down, until Wade’s nose was shoved against his pubes, his eyes watering from the strain. He let his throat contract rhythmically around him, breathing through his nose, before he pulled up and away, a string of saliva linking his lips to Peter’s cock.

Spider-Man gripped himself roughly, squeezing with a groan, trying not to fall apart, and Wade shook with exhilaration at the thought that he did that. Slowly, Spidey let go of himself to cup Wade’s chin, thumb dragging over his wet lips.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he whispered breathily. “Are you waiting for me to do all the work?”

Wade shook his head, grinning, and made a show of licking up Peter’s cock, staring at him through the lenses of his mask and mouthing on the sides of his dick, teasing, his thumb rubbing at the head and smearing the precum around. Lightly, he dragged his gloved fingers around him, watching Spider-Man shiver.

“You’re perfect”, he whispered.
“You say th- mmh, Wade!” Peter moaned, his fingers scrabbling at his head uselessly as the heat and tight sheath of Wade’s throat engulfed him once more. “Yes! Yes, Wade, just like this! Fuck, you feel so good, taking me so good, precious-”

His babbling was all the encouragement Wade needed to speed up the bobbing of his head, keeping him warm and wet, acknowledging his cries of “gonna cum, Wade, precious, please, gonna cum” with a hum around his length and pulling off just as the man shot his load, leaving his mouth open to catch all of it, feeling it hit mostly his tongue, but some also landed on the tip of his nose, and on his chin. Peter had slumped forward, but he was staring at him, panting heavily.

“Fuck, that was awesome”, he gasped. “Wait no don’t-” Wade swallowed, and Peter cringed under his mask “-do that”, he finished. “That was definitely super hot but that’s also the perfect way to get jizz breath, you know?”
“Is that your way of telling me you will not kiss me until I’ve brushed my teeth?” Wade grinned, leaning his cheek against Peter’s bare thigh.
“Mmh. You’re lucky we’re done with patrol for tonight”, Peter said, grabbing him by the straps of his suit and hauling him upright for a bruising kiss.

Wade hissed when the webbed-wonder cupped his crotch, his hard-on more than painful by now.

“That’s painful, isn’t it? My precious…”

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

So, Peter hadn’t meant to break the mood by doing his best impression of Gollum, but Wade had burst out laughing and he found himself snickering alongside him.

“You had to do that, didn’t you?” Wade chortled, kissing him as he grinned. “You’re so perfect, baby boy.”
“I can be even better”, Peter purred, rubbing his fingers more firmly against the hard line of his cock. “On one condition.”
“Speak away”, Wade grinned, rolling his hips into his grasp.
“If you call me daddy.”
“Oooh, daddy kink? We delving into that now? Daddy.”
“Mmh, perfect, trésor. I’ll make you feel so good, Wade”, he whispered, nipping at his lips as he started to open his flies.
“Nope, no horror show tonight”, Wade quipped.

Peter sighed. Of course, Wade’s insecurities would come into play now.

“You’d let me if I was blindfolded?”
“Uh, care to say that again?”
“Can I get my hands on you if I’m blindfolded?” Peter repeated.

Wade gulped visibly, and nodded.

“Yeah… Yeah I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”
“Good. You have something we can use, or do I make do with my web-fluid?”
“Gimme a sec”, Wade said, pilfering through his pouches and pulling out things.
“Wade, that’s a dirty sock. Why do you have a single dirty sock.”
“You ask the wrong question, Webs. What did the sock do?” Wade replied as he kept on searching. “Ahah! I knew I had something.”
“A silk scarf. Yeah, it’ll do”, Peter said with a nod, taking it and looping it over his eyes, knotting it tightly to it wouldn’t slip. “Can’t see a thing. Whoo, we getting’ into sensory deprivation already?”, he asked, grinning.
“I mean, you don’t have to just take care of me, we can-”

Peter held up a finger against his lips, though he missed a bit and almost shoved it up his nose, shutting him up.

“Nope, we can’t, because you just sucked my brain through my dick and I’m no longer a young man with a crazy refractory period. I’ll need at least twenty minutes before I can go again, but I’m plenty good with just getting you off over and over until you feel like you can’t anymore.”
“…You know what, that threat was actually hot”, Wade breathed. “Okay.”

Peter shimmied back into his pants, before sitting down and holding his hands up to Wade.

“Come down, Wade. And I know you keep lube in your pouches so take it too.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Most people?” Peter retorted.

There was the sound of shuffling above him, and then he felt the heat of Wade’s body over his thighs as the man knelt over him, looming. He shivered still when Wade planted a kiss on his lips, cupping his jaw. Carefully, he took off his gloves, tucking them under his butt, and held his hand out for the lube.

“Hold on”, Wade said, wiggling above him, “okay, hum…”

And Peter could feel the uncertainty coming from him, and he smiled, planting a kiss on the closest body part, which happened to be a leather-covered shoulder. Wade snorted in laughter.

“Here”, he redirected him to his mouth, and Peter sucked his tongue into his mouth, a hand on his nape.
“Tell me what you want, precious”, Peter rumbled, and he loved how Wade squirmed at the term of endearment.
“Finger me?” Wade replied tentatively. “Please, ba-”

Peter clicked his tongue, and Wade sucked in a breath.

“You’re really going to make me say it?”
“To make you come with my fingers up your ass? Hell yeah”, Peter confirmed, smirking. “C’mon, trésor, I know you’ve got it in you.”
“I don’t and that’s precisely the problem”, Wade grumbled sulkily, shifting on his knees. “Please, daddy, I need your fingers in me”, Wade said, before dropping his forehead on Peter’s shoulder, mortified.
“Good”, Peter said, closing his fingers around the bottle of lube and squeezing some in his palm, lathering it over his fingers.

He loved how Wade, without realizing, relaxed in his hold whenever Peter took control. There was something about the lax way his large frame hang, something that hooked into his core and made him warm all over, and he wasn’t sure about what it was exactly. But he liked it. Getting Wade to admit it, however, was a whole other can of worms.

“I don’t want to get lube all over your suit, precious. Where’s your cock?”

Wade took his hand in his shaking own and slowly wrapped his fingers around his dick, and Peter shivered at the sheer size of it. The tip of his fingers barely touched, and he let out a breathy “fuck” as he slowly started to drag his hand up and down, spreading lube all over him.

“You’re so big”, he said in awe. “It’s… wow. I’m not taking that without prior prep, that’s for sure.”

Wade moaned against his shoulder, his arms loosely wrapped around him but fingers gripping at his suit tightly. Slowly, Peter’s fingers slid down, cupping his balls, rolling them in his palms and delighting in Wade’s tensed gasps, on the choked, bitten off, muffled moans wetting his shoulder.

“Feeling that good, uh?” Peter whispered.

He could definitely feel the bumps and ridges of Wade’s skin against his hands, and he desperately liked it. Then, he firmly rubbed the pad of his middle finger against Wade’s taint, and this time, the merc bit down onto his clothed shoulder to keep in his ragged moan of pleasure. He slid farther, over his hole, and rubbed hard circles into the flesh there, Wade shaking more and more as he slumped against him, and Peter was thankful for his super-strength.

“Webs, please”, Wade whined. “Please.”
“Hush, I’ve got you”, Peter whispered, easily sliding a finger in since Wade had relaxed so much. “Just let me-”

He crooked his finger, rubbing it inside the merc, trying to find that perfect spot to make him cry out in pleasure. He let out a triumphant chuckle when Wade sobbed in his shoulder.

There, fuck, please, please, I’m so close!”

Peter smiled and added a second finger, thrusting them steadily and nailing Wade’s prostate each time, feeling him thrash around in his hold, chasing his orgasm and yet not getting there, not without that something to help him cross over the edge.

“You’re so soft around me, trésor”, he breathed. “So soft and so warm, taking me in so eagerly… Tell me precious, is that good? Do you like having my fingers up your ass?”

He was starting to think maybe he wouldn’t need twenty minutes this time, with how hot Wade was in his lap, his cock poking his stomach every time he rolled his hips forward to thrust back into his fingers.

“So good”, Wade gasped, unlatching his teeth from around his shoulder, “please!”
“You can come anytime you want, precious”, Peter whispered seductively, “let me hear you”, he added as he hitched Wade up and fumbled a bit to get his cock in his mouth as he worked his fingers up into him.

The loud, throaty moan that fell from Wade’s mouth was the best symphony, and Peter thrusted his fingers harder, humming around his length and sucking it eagerly, though it was big enough that his jaw was already aching – yeah, he was definitely out of practice, he’d have to train some more if he ever wanted to worship that dick the way it deserved to be.

“Ah, fuck, Webs!” Wade sobbed loudly, his whole body tensing as he came, rolling down onto Peter’s fingers, and up into his mouth, his load dribbling messily from the corners of Peter’s mouth.

He pulled away abruptly when it became too much, slumping down into Peter’s hold, panting heavily. Peter gently rubbed his back, taking his time – he was familiar with sub-drop, even though they hadn’t gone that hard, he had felt how far gone Wade was.

“You okay?” he asked, pressing a messy kiss to his cheek – or at least, he thought it was his cheek.
“Mmh. That was awesome”, Wade mumbled, nuzzling against his shoulder. “You’re way too good at that, Spidey.”
“You were perfect, Wade.”

Slowly, Wade peeled away, the leather squeaking against the spandex, and even without seeing him, Peter could tell he was wrinkling his nose.

“Whoops. Sorry, Spidey. I slobbered all over your shoulder, and there’s jizz on your… uh. Well. It dribbled from your mouth?”
“Mmh. I’d like to clean up a bit, if you want to tuck yourself back in before I take the blindfold off.”
“Yeah”, Wade replied, shuffling upwards until he was standing.

There was the sound of zippers and clasps, of leather rubbing on leather, and Peter missed Wade’s warmth against him.

“I’m all good, you can take off the blindfold”, he added a minute later, and Peter did just that, blinking at the diffuse light of dawn. “Here, gimme”, he said, taking the scarf and gently wiping off Peter’s mouth, shoulder and stomach.
“…You just put cum on silk?” Peter deadpanned.
“Seems so, yeah”, Wade grinned, planting a kiss on his mouth. “That was awesome and we definitely should do that again, but right now I’d like a nap.”
“Sleeping sounds so good”, Peter moaned, stretching. “See you tomorrow?”
“Definitely, yeah”, Wade nodded, slipping his mask down.

Peter grabbed the scarf from Wade’s hands and wiped his hands down, before he picked up his gloves and tucked them into his suit. No way he was putting clean gloves now. Wade stuffed the dirtied scarf in one of his pouches and Peter prepared to lower him to the ground, the merc grabbing onto him like a damn koala.

“You want me to swing you back home?” he asked, because even though he was tired, he’d just gone really hard on Wade and Aunt May had raised a gentleman, thank you very much.

Wade hummed against his neck.

“That sounds delightful”, he replied, “but then I’ll insist you stay the night.”
“It’s almost dawn, Wade”, Peter chuckled. “Alright, I’m walking you home. Hold on tight.”

It was a bit weird to swing with Wade weighing down on his hips, especially as the man didn’t cry out nor whooped as they sailed through the streets of Brooklyn. Peter realised Wade really was knackered when he started to snore into his shoulder, and it was only instinct that kept him wrapped around Peter. He landed on a roof, secured the merc by webbing his limbs to himself, and swung off again, straight to Wade’s place. The window was open just enough for him to slide his fingers in and push it open, and he was certain Wade had done it on purpose.

Wade mumbled as Peter landed more heavily than he intended in the apartment, but didn’t wake up. Peter cut off his webs and lowered the merc onto his mattress, chuckling when Wade clung to him and prying his fingers off. Gently, he rolled Wade’s mask up, pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and he was off. Only once he stepped inside his own apartment did he see his own nails glowing in the dark, once he’d drawn the shutters shut. Well done, Parker. That was really smooth. Hopefully, Wade would have been too out of it to notice. He showered and stumbled into bed, making a note to clean his suit, before he fell asleep.

Peter woke up mid-afternoon, grabbing his phone to stop it from ringing and yawning as he unlocked it: he’d seen he had a text from Wade.

 

From: Daddypool.
Baby boy. Did I dream last night? Because I was quite sure we were on a rooftop making out and shit, but I woke up in my bed and Yellow says we dreamt that. Whitey says we didn’t and I’m /going spare/.

 

To: Daddypool.
It was not a dream, we did have some good kind of horizontal tango last night on that rooftop. I swung you home and you fell asleep on me on the way.

 

Peter smiled sleepily, thinking back to how good it had been. There was something between Wade and him, something primal he couldn’t quite control… and didn’t really want to. Something he had with MJ when they were still young and passionately in love, but that had died long ago. Shit, MJ. Was it weird that he was already falling back into someone else’s bed? Was it disrespectful to their twelve years marriage? It’s not a relationship, though. We’re friends, having sex. Sex-friends? Was it unfair to Wade? Shit, was he using Wade?

He sat up brusquely, feeling sick at himself. It had been really good, but he was still too raw from the divorce to want something more. But what did Wade want? They hadn’t talked about it. Hell, Wade didn’t even know he was far from emotionally available at the moment. God, he really was an asshole.

 

From: Daddypool.
I’m glad it wasn’t a dream. It also explains why I’ve slept so well, that was one mind-blowing orgasm. Damn baby boy, you have magical fingers.

 

It had already gone too far, he couldn’t let it go any farther. But Wade was the one bright, happy thing in his life, and yeah, it was damn egoistical of him… but he couldn’t let him go. He couldn’t.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade had slept until noon, and he didn’t remember sleeping that well in years. So, of course, he was very chirp that morning, even though Spidey wasn’t answering – but he wasn’t worried because Peter was Spidey, and Peter worked night, so his baby boy needed that sleep. Drinking his coffee, he started some research on Peter Parker. He had never delved too deep on the guy’s backstory because, well, he was only Spider-Man’s photographer – but now that he knew they were one and the same, all bets were off. He found the birth extract for one Peter Benjamin Parker, thirty-seven years ago. He found the paper indicating that seven years old Peter had been entrusted to the care of one Benjamin Parker – his uncle – and one May Parker – his aunt -, both deceased. May, barely a year and a half ago. Benjamin, murdered in the street, twenty-one years ago. Peter had been barely sixteen, and that broke his heart – especially as he read the articles detailing the attack, how the teen had recognized his dying uncle… and how a guy dressed in a red sweatshirt with a spider motif had flung the main suspect out from a window, killing him instantly.

There was blood on Spider-Man’s hands, and he was the only one who knew. He read about Peter’s graduation from high-school, the same year as Flash Thompson. He read about his thesis, though he barely understood a thing with all the scientific jargon used in there. He already knew everything about his career as a photograph for the Daily Bugle, as Spider-Man’s photographer, but he read it all again in a new light. He read about his wedding, twelve years ago, to one Mary-Jane Watson – a gorgeous opera singer with flame-red hair, who was absolutely nothing like him.

He read about his divorce, three months ago, and wow. It was really recent, no wonder the guy was feeling bad. Their chemistry, and how great they went along, had made him think that maybe he could hope for something more… Now he knew it was too soon. He remembered all too well the mess he’d been after Vane-

{THAT’S NOT THE SAME} Yellow shrieked.

“No, it’s not the same, but he still needs time to heal. Whitey was right, for once: we won’t be a fucking band-aid for his broken heart, but we can be a friend. We can have sex, even. And maybe we can be more down the road, but not now.”

[And how well do you think that will pan out for us? We’re basically in love with him already, and that’s YOUR fault, dickhead.]

“Well, it’s not like we don’t know that. We’ll just have to deal with it. And he needs us. Remember, he told us he’s basically alone. We know how hard that is, and we don’t want to be alone either. So maybe we can be alone together.”

[That’s not a good idea. Like, really not. But hey, since when have you actually listened to me? Even though I’m basically the voice of reason.]

“Hush now, I’ve taken a decision. It won’t be the first time we put our heart on the line.”

He received Peter’s text – or rather, Spidey, he’d have to be careful with that – just as he was about to head out. The air whooshed out of his lungs when he received the confirmation that they had indeed hooked up, and he whooped.

[You are obnoxious.]

“C’mon, we blew Spider-Man! That was on our bucket list for so long it was starting to get ridiculous.”

{Think he’ll let us tap that ass?}

“Only one way to know: ask!”

 

To: Baby Boy.
By the way, there’s no way an inexperienced guy would know how to finger one so good. Spill it, Spidey: you’re a naughty guy.

 

From: Baby Boy.
You know, being a hero doesn’t mean either being a prude nor being a virgin, ‘Pool. And I never said I was inexperienced, you ran away with that idea.

 

To: Baby Boy.
*gasp* You did butt stuff before!

 

From: Baby Boy.
Please tell me that pun wasn’t intentional and I’m the one with my mind in the gutter.

From Baby Boy.
Also… Yes. I mean, I wouldn’t have been able to handle you the way I did if I’d had no idea wtf I was doing.

From Baby Boy.
I’ll admit to one thing: I’ve never had any kind of sex with a guy before. That’s it. That’s the extent of the new territory.

 

Wade couldn’t stop himself from grinning – okay yes he was getting a stiffy but, like, Little Wade had Captain’s America stamina.

{That metaphor was wrong on so many levels.}

Because it wasn’t difficult to piece everything together: Spidey had used toys, or maybe even a strap-on given that he’d been married, and Wade desperately wanted to see that.

 

To: Baby Boy.
Ah! I’m sure you did a lot of butt stuff-ing before. Show me your favourite and I’ll show you mine.

 

From: Baby Boy.
That pun was horrible. Also, you’ve lost me. Show you what, exactly?

 

To: Baby Boy.
I see how it is. Are you being shy now, or merely teasing? Anyway, I’ll go first because I’m a nice guy just like that.

 

Heading out forgotten for now, Wade sat down on his mattress and grabbed the box where he kept all his toys, ruffling in it and ultimately taking everything out before he finally found the toy he’d been searching for. Grinning, he settled more comfortably, legs parted, and set the toy up between his legs to get a good photo crotch level. Which was perfect because Peter would see the bright pink unicorn horn, with Wade’s hard-on in the background.

[Now you’re just being over-eager.]

“Spoil-sport”, Wade grumbled, hitting send.

 

From: Baby Boy.
Ah, I see what you meant. Is it a “mine’s bigger than yours” type of thing or…?

 

To: Baby Boy.
Baby boy, it’s obvious mine’s bigger than yours. Just show me what you love, it’s for the spank bank.

 

From: Baby Boy.
I can’t even argue that one because you’re right. And boy do I want to gag on that dick. You’re so massive it should be illegal.

Wade let out a whine reading the words, grinding his palm into his crotch.

{YES YES I WANT THAT, MAKE HIM GAG, MAKE HIM BEG, WRECK HIM, WRECK HIIIIIM}

The memory of Peter’s mouth around his crown still fresh in his mind, he could all too easily imagine how it would be. Shivering, he opened his pants, because no matter how far this little exchange of texts went, there was no way he could go about his day without taking care of his problem.

 

To: Baby Boy.
Baby Boy, all you had to do was ask.

 

He added a quick snap of his tented boxers and waited for Spidey’s answers, wondering if maybe the guy was flustered in his little apartment? Was Peter flushed that endearing red, was he hard and dripping just from that exchange?

 

From: Baby Boy.
Took me a moment to find it, I haven’t opened that box in a while… It’s been so long, who knows, maybe it doesn’t even fit anymore? I must be pretty tight, I’m sure you’d love it.

 

The attached pic nearly sent Wade’s heart into over-drive: it featured the lower part of Peter’s face, his mouth open and tongue gliding wetly against a big, rigged dildo he held in both hands. He roughly squeezed himself through his underwear to stop himself from coming on the spot, before he slid it down, freeing his cock with a sigh of relief. He wasn’t exactly sure he could keep on texting while this bothered, so he tapped the call icon. Peter answered almost immediately, slightly breathy.

“Did you like my picture?” Peter asked in a sultry voice.
“God yes”, Wade replied, “it was perfect. You got some time to play, Baby Boy?”
“I wouldn’t have started a game I can’t finish”, Peter replied, and Wade could hear his smile. “Tell me”, he whispered, “what do you want me to do?”
“You want me to be in charge, baby boy? Want old DP to tell you how to play with yourself?” Wade growled in the phone, putting it on speaker.
“Yes”, Peter replied, his voice turning into a moan. “Please.”
“Good. If I ask a question, you answer with ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’. Okay?”
“Oh f-” Spidey gasped, “y-yes sir.”
“Do you have a safe word, baby boy?”
“Yes, sir”, Peter answered. “Brooklyn, sir.”

Wade smiled, pleased, and wiggled down the mattress.

“Are you still wearing clothes, boo?”
“Y-Yes, sir.”

Wade clicked his tongue.

“What a shame. I like that pretty cock of yours free. It’s a really nice cock, too. Fit into my mouth so well, it was like you were made for me. Now, baby boy, I want you to put your box of toys next to you, and to lie down, knees up and feet flat on the mattress.”

There was some shuffling on the other end of the line, a loud clatter followed by some creative swearing, and the loud sound of a body thumping to the ground, and Wade nearly burst out laughing imagining what had probably happened.

“Sorry for that, sir.”
“That eager, baby boy?”
“Yes.”
“Yes…?”
“Yes, sir”, Peter corrected himself quickly. “Sorry, sir.”
“I’ll let it slide this time, but if you drop the title again, I’ll have to punish you, baby boy.”
“Sir?”
“Now, now, wouldn’t be much of a punishment if you knew what I had in store”, Wade tutted, grabbing a mostly empty bottle of lube that laid nearby. “Are you ready, baby boy?”
“Yes, sir”, Peter replied, and Wade could imagine him all too well, hands fisted into the sheets to keep from touching himself.

{You should have made it a video call.}
[And let him see the horror show we are? Are you dumb?]

“I want you to slide your hands on your torso. Feel your body up. Imagine it’s my hands on you, I know they feel broad on your ribs, splayed on your stomach, wrapped around your hips. You like it, don’t you? How tall, big and strong I am next to you. I’ve seen the way you eye my muscles, baby boy. They really get you going, don’t they?”
“Yessir”, Peter breathed, so soft he barely heard him. “You’re so strong, sir.”
“Remember what you said? I could spank you really hard, baby boy”, Wade crooned, palming himself. “Get that bubbly ass of yours all red and sensitive from my blows. You like it when it hurts so good, don’t you, baby boy?”

A muffled whine answered him and he closed his eyes, easily picturing Peter splayed on his bed, his hands roaming everywhere but his cock, hard and dripping, needy, wanting more and yet not allowed to. And wasn’t that a power trip?

“I expect an answer, baby boy”, Wade chided, and Peter gasped loudly.
“Yes sir, yes!” he blurted out, “please, sir!”
“No. That’s the second time you don’t follow the rules, baby boy. I thought they were simple enough, weren’t they?” Wade replied, voice hard, scolding.
“Yes, sir! I can follow them, sir!” Peter pleaded, and he sounded desperate already.
“Obviously you can’t, but I’m willing to give you another chance to obey. You’ll punish yourself for me, baby boy.” He distinctively heard Peter gulp. “Do you own a plug?”
“Yes, sir”, Peter answered, voice laced with anticipation and fear.
“Once we’re done, I want you to put it in and keep it there until we meet for patrol. I’ll take it out myself. Think you can do this, baby boy?” Wade all but purred into the phone, grinning manically at the thought of Peter working all night with the plug keeping him loose and open.

Yeah, okay, maybe Wade was an evil mastermind after all. But no one had to know. There was a silence as Peter thought, decidedly turned on but probably considering the risks.

“Yes, sir. I can do that, sir.”
“Very good, baby boy. Trail your fingers up your cock, baby. Nice and slow, just a brush.”

Peter took in a deep breath and Wade wrapped his slippery fingers around his own cock, working it at a slow, nice rhythm. Lately, he’d taken to getting off fast and dirty just to purge thoughts of Peter out of his system, but he usually liked a more sedate pace.

{Yeah, nice and slow, delayed gratification and all that jazz.}

“That’s it, baby boy. Hands off, now.” He waited to hear Peter’s breathing, laboured and deep, stuttering as he fought to obey. “Lube your fingers, and circle your pointer against your rim. Tell me how it feels.”

Peter huffed out a laugh and Wade had the feeling his spider-wonder had just bitten his own tongue to stop himself from making a scathing remark.

“…It feels good, sir”, he finally said after a moment. “It would feel even better with your finger, sir.”
“Mmh, aren’t you cheeky, spider-babe? You don’t like teasing much, do you?”
“It’s…” Peter bit his lips. “I like it but I hate it, sir”, he finally settled on saying, and Wade nearly burst out laughing at the confession because damn if he didn’t understand.
“Oh, baby boy. When I finally get to fuck you, I’ll tease you first. Until your begging and nearly incoherent. I’ll edge you and pull you back before you fall until you forget your own name, and you’ll love every minute of it. You will feel like you’re falling apart under my hands, so that when I finally take you, it’ll be like completion.”

There was a muffled slam that Wade recognized as a flat palm hitting hard a mattress, and a shuffling that suggested peter was arching his hips off the bed.

“F-Fuck”, he cried out, “please, please, stop teasing, sir!”
“No more teasing? What a shame”, Wade sighed, stroking himself with firmer grip and letting husk slide into his voice. “Alright, then. Get that finger in, baby boy. I know you know how to do it.”

There was a cry on the other end of the phone, and Wade’s breath stuttered, his hand accidentally squeezing.

“That’s it, baby boy. Stretch yourself good. Think you can take that toy you showed me?”
“No, sir”, Peter replied, gulping, “it’s too big, sir.”
“Do you own anything smaller, baby boy? Something you can fuck yourself on, deep and hard, like I would fuck you. Because you know I would. I’d bend you over the arm of the couch and take you there, with your pants halfway down your thighs. Make it a bit of a stretch, so you feel the burn for some time.”
“Sir”, Peter moaned, “I- ah, fuck!”

Wade could hear rustling on the other end of the line and he smirked, knowing full well that Peter was no longer obeying, given the gasps of pleasure he heard, and the squelching sound of fingers working fast.

“Wade”, Peter called, his voice a whine full of so much desire Wade nearly blew his load there and then. “Oh, oh, I’m-”

There was a gasp and a sharp ah that Wade easily recognized as Peter coming – {that’s not the kind of sound you would forget uh} – and he shivered, his orgasm rolling in and sending him tumbling over the edge. He took just the time he needed to recover, eyeing the mess he’d made and wondering just how done Peter looked, splayed on his bed and panting in post-orgasmic bliss.

“Baby boy, did you come without permission?” he all but purred into the phone, letting some threat slip into his voice – the promise of consequences to come.
“Nu-uh, no sir, I didn’t”, Peter gasped, and Wade nearly snorted at how obvious the lie was.
“Tsk. That won’t do, baby boy. I can’t have you lying to me like that, on top of disobeying. Again. This calls for discipline.” A silence. “You remember your punishment for tonight?”
“…Yes, sir”, this time quiet and subdued.
“Then get to it.”

He cut the call and sighed, wondering whether to clean himself up now or to nap – in the end, the nap won.

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Not that the day was long, but… the day was long. Especially with a plug up his ass. Peter had found a pair of faded grey jeans that were two sizes too big and decided he would wear that, because all his tighter trousers pushed the toy in deeper and it was torture. He had forgotten how good it all felt and had found himself with a semi most of the day. He had been so sure work would make it flag, but it hadn’t – and no, he wasn’t wearing the suit under his clothes.

Deadpool showed up at ten and a half, with a spring to his step, and a metallic suitcase in hand, one that Peter eyed warily. It looked like a businessman’s case, the kind that were used in illegal trades to stuff green bills in neat stacks. And knowing the man, it was probably that. Still, Deadpool stuffed the case between his feet and grinned at Peter.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

Peter finished mixing the flashy pink drink he’d been working on for another patron before he rose and eyebrow and bent forward to look at Deadpool.

“Tell me, DP, are you a vampire?”

Deadpool perked with interest, probably sensing the lame pick-up line incoming.

“Because you seemed a little thirsty looking at me”, Peter finished with a Cheshire cat grin.

Wade guffawed, slamming his hand against the counter.

“Oh you’re the best, Pete-pie”, he chuckled. “You know, I’d probably drool a bit if you bent over, just a little.”

Peter flushed at the thought of bending, gosh, if only Wade knew he was Spidey… Oh that would be a turn-on, a very big one.

“You would, wouldn’t you”, he whispered seductively, his voice dropping more than he wanted it to with the quasi-constant arousal of the last hours, which was worse now that Wade was here.

He made a show of bending over to retrieve a bottle on the bottom shelf, actually taking his damn time so he wouldn’t betray himself with a noise. Not in Sister Margaret where half of the patrons still thought he was a hooker. He made his way to a table to bring the drinks, and stopped by Deadpool when he came back, smiling.

“So? Drooling into your mask, big boy?” he asked casually, cocking a hip out.

Wade made a noise and pulled him forward by the waist, bracketing him between his – damn big and muscular – thighs before he coped a feel of his ass. Peter harshly bit his tongue to not moan into the touch as the kneading hands moved the plug into his prostate, making him see stars. He very nearly keened when a gloved finger tapped the flared end of the plug, Wade grinning like a cat who’s caught the canary.

“And you are naughtier than you seem, Pete-pie”, he whispered against his ear. “Keeping yourself loose and open while on the job, really? Who’s the lucky guy?”

Peter actually bit down into Wade’s padded shoulder-guard when the merc casually tugged on the plug, before he managed to retrieve enough of his brain to slap his hands away.

“Please don’t, master’s order. This stays where it is.”

Peter looked up from beneath his eyelashes as Deadpool took in a sharp breath, his hands falling away and on his hips.

“You’re damn obedient, pet. Makes me wish you were mine.”

Peter smirked and stepped away on shaking legs, going back behind the counter as Wade’s eyes drilled holes into him. It was exhilarating to have all of Deadpool’s intense focus and attention on him. Luckily, the mercenary didn’t say anything more before it was time for Peter’s lunch pause. This time, Peter didn’t even try to climb all the way up to the roof and instead found himself a corner in the bar, sighing and shivering as he sat down. He managed to inhale his sandwich before Deadpool finally made his way over, strutting through the bar with intent. Deadpool slid into the booth until his burning hot side was pressed against Peter’s, his hand falling on his thigh.

“You say the word and I stop”, Wade growled from behind his mask, and Peter’s heart started to beat faster. “Consent is sexy, Pete-boy.”
“Believe me if I didn’t want this you’d know it”, Peter whispered, gripping the worn-down wood of the table tightly. “First because I would never have actively flirted back with you.”

Deadpool hummed back and even though they were in a dark corner, his stance was explicit enough that only a few actually dared to take a peek. There was not much to see, Peter guessed, aside from the flushed new bartender sitting ramrod straight with Deadpool plastered against him.

“What are your master’s rules, darling?” Deadpool purred against his hear, his palm going up until it was cupping his cock, and damn Peter hoped his jeans weren’t going to soak through like his underwear currently was.
“Only to-” He took a breath. “Keep the plug in until he takes it out, and not to cum until then.”

Yeah, okay. The not-coming part hadn’t been said, but first Peter loved that edge and second… Wade hadn’t needed to say it. It had been clear in his voice. And maybe, third, because Deadpool could maybe recognize his own order. So what if Peter was taking risks? What if Wade puzzled out his identity? There wasn’t much he had left to lose, and he trusted the man.

“Mmh”, Wade replied, shifting slightly to rub his fingers lightly over the tent in his pants. “Here’s my guess: that master’s of yours is Spider-Man, isn’t it? He has the goody-two shoes act down, but you and I both know the truth: he isn’t what he seems to be.”

Wha- Peter nearly chocked on his own snort of laughter at the idea that Spider-Man was his kinky master. Oh, Deadpool, sweetheart, no. But also kinda yes because he had issued his own order of not coming and… well, it made everything easier if Wade hadn’t figured him out yet.
“I see your skills are nothing to scoff at”, he finally managed to say. “Yes, you’re right.”

Wade’s hand twitched around his arm, but the other kept on slowly gliding over his crotch.

“I fucking knew it”, Wade crowded with a salacious grin. “I’ll play by the rules, then. Don’t want Spidey whooping my ass just ‘cause I can’t keep my hands to myself. Not that I wouldn’t love it, of course, y’know, just… not like that.”
“Yeah, you’d love some of that spider-strength staining your ass red, of course you would”, Peter replied rolling his eyes even though the mere idea made his dick twitch in his pants.
There’s a man after my own heart”, Deadpool positively glowed. “So, you don’t get to come and I get to tease you. Think your master would approve?”
“I have no doubt he would approve”, Peter growled, slapping his hand away from his over-sensitive lap. “I’m not sure I can take another red-clad kinky man lusting after my ass.”

“That’s harsh but accurate”, Deadpool replied with a nod, before glancing at the bar. “Relax, I’ll be out of your hair tonight. I’ve got some business to do”, he added, going back to the bar and picking up the suitcase that he had entrusted to Weasel’s care.

Peter watched with a frown as he pulled a new-comer aside, leaving Sister Margaret’s with the girl – a blonde, lanky thing who was skin and bones. He didn’t come back before the end of Peter’s shift, which was just as good because work picked up like crazy, the harsh fall wind pushing people inside instead of facing it foolishly. Temperatures were still good enough, but before long winter would be there and Peter would freeze his ass off swinging around. Unless he put his festive knitted jumpers on while patrolling, but it had led to the loss of some of his favourite ones which he still mourned.

He realized as he thought about that that he now had money and he could – should, really – refurnish his wardrobe. He’d just add “swinging-suitable jumpers” to the list, along with a good, long, warm coat. He definitely needed a warm coat, especially now that he was working at night. His shift ended and he used the restroom to pull his suit on, before he donned his clothes back on. He made it to the rooftops and pulled off his clothes, stuffing them in his backpack, which he webbed to a chimney, and settled to wait for Wade. He looked forward to taking off the plug that had made his day a (delicious) nightmare, and he really didn’t want to wait anymore.

Luckily, Deadpool didn’t make him wait long, using his grapple to climb onto the roof that was apparently their meeting point now. He still had his metallic suitcase, which swung awkwardly at the end of his arm, and set it down by his feet before sitting down cross-legged beside Peter.

“Hey! Did you know they just opened this French food joint two streets down? I don’t know if you’re much of a gourmet but I’m feeling adventurous and I definitely want to try snails.”

Peter stared back at him and blinked slowly.

“You and I have very different takes on priorities, it seems.”
“You think I have forgotten about your punishment?” Wade asked, his voice suddenly dropping, and Peter shivered. “Oh, baby boy, as if I’d forget something like that. No, but after patrol it might be nice to try new food, if you’re up for it.”

Peter pursed his lips under the mask.

“Snails?” he asked, disgusted. “Sorry, you’re doing that one alone. I’m sure there are other things more… palatable in French cuisine.”
“Coward”, Wade teased him, grabbing his suitcase and pulling it close before he snapped it open. “So, I did some digging, as promised. Roman Berisha, our last zombie victim, isn’t like the others.”
“What do you mean?” Peter said, crawling closer to take a peek at the suitcase.
“I mean, while the others were all vulnerable and that was their only common point, our Roman was none of that. I think he was purposefully targeted. I think this was a murder, plain and simple.”

And damn, Wade really had a way to set the mood.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade tried to keep things cool, but his mind had been buzzing and his skin reeling ever since he got out of that meeting with his informant – Spades, as she went by, was of the very slippery kind, and he rarely did business with her. As calmly as he could, he opened the briefcase she had handed him in exchange for his – cold hard cash for intel. He had had enough time to peruse the documents inside, but Spades had still given him a rough sketch about what she’d found.

Spider-Man picked one stack up, frowning under his mask at the logo in the right-hand corner.

“Life Foundation? Isn’t that the same company that runs the psychiatric ward where our witness is detained?”
“Yup”, Wade replied, kicking his legs. “What do you know about them?”
“They’re a scientific company”, Spidey replied. “Working on a cure for cancer, and on several projects to cure genetic diseases like haemophilia or cystic fibrosis. I believe they were also involved in a space program years ago, with Doom Industries.” He looked down at his papers again. “Roman Berisha worked for them”, he realized.
“Better than that, he was at the head of a lab where everything is classified. It seems the Life Foundation has been developing projects to get military contracts. There are some technological ones, which are the ones they take to the army to get more funds. But with some digging…”

Wade thumbed through the documents to get to a specific report, which he plopped down in Spider-Man’s lap.

“Project BW-0S0T”, Spidey read on the cover.
“This is what we’ve been seeing”, Deadpool warned him. “Our Virus Z is what they’ve been working on in Project BW-0S0T… and it’s very nearly ready.”

Spider-Man opened the file and bit back a gag at the photos in there. It was horrible, even though, as he read, he discovered the guinea pigs were people who had already been dead and had donated their bodies to science.

“You think they’ve started to test on live guinea pigs”, he finally said. “BW-0S0T…”
“Biological Weapon – 0 survivors 0 trace. This is meant to make people disappear, Spidey. Completely. That’s what I understood, at least.”

Spider-Man shook his head and lifted his mask up to his nose, and Wade finally noticed how hard he was gripping the edge of the roof.

“It’s bigger than that”, he gasped. “Oh god, I’m gonna throw up”, he added with a moan, staggering to his feet to run a few feet farther.

Wade ran after him, supporting him with an arm around his waist to hold him up, soothingly running a hand on his back.

“Did you eat something bad?” he asked softly, taking a packet of tissues from one of his pouches and wiping Spidey’s mouth, holding his trembling form together.

Spider-Man made a sound that Wade identified as an attempt to chuckle.

“No”, he replied. “I’m just on the verge of having a panic attack. Don’t worry, I’m used to it, it’s just… when things get too much, it does that.”

He bent over and retched again, his body heaving in violent spasms, and finally straightened up.

“Okay, I’m good. Sorry about that.”

{Does he seriously expect us to believe that?}

Wade said nothing and instead handed him a bottle of water. Even though Spidey seemed to be fine enough to walk, he kept an arm around his waist until they were sitting down again. Spider-Man took a deep breath, tugging on the collar of his suit.

“It’s all scientific jargon so I’m not surprised you didn’t catch it. Basically, so far, they haven’t yet managed to refine the virus to make it spread otherwise than through bodily fluids, as we’ve found out, but it’s only a matter of time. They could wipe out three fourth of New York City by simply poisoning the water main, potentially. But that’s not their goal.” He flipped through the documents until he got to one. “You see this?”
“Yeah? Sorry it’s all rubbish to me, Webs.”
“This is a genetic marker. If they manage to get to their end goal, they could tailor the virus to attack very precisely. Just one person who thought they were out of harm’s reach. The President. You. Me. That cashier at Target. Anyone. Others would be infected, but the virus would lay dormant and not act. Sane bearers, if you will.” His hand shook as he rose a finger. “But they could tailor it to something wider than just one person. A whole bloodline. A whole community. This could mean a systematic and complete genocide. And do you know who is likely to be their first victims? Us. Mutants. It’s all too easy to isolate the mutant gene, and then it’d be over. You know what Magneto says about first registering, then rounding up, and when the killing starts it’s too late? This stuff would make registering unnecessary, it goes directly to the killing.”

As Peter talked, Wade felt himself grow cold. No wonder he had thrown up, Wade was feeling quite nauseous himself already.

“So it’s really bad, then.”

Peter breathed deeply.

“It’s bad, but we have some luck here. First, we found out about this, which is more than can be said of other super-heroes. Second, we know who does it. And third… it’s not yet complete. This kind of work takes years to produce. I don’t think we actually have years with how far they’ve come, but months? We definitively have months.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… shouldn’t we hand this over to the Avengers? They’re better equipped than us.”

Peter shook his head.

“No. I’ve observed most of their work, and here they’d just barge in guns blazing to raze the lab to the ground. Whoever is twisted enough to imagine this and make it real will have back-up labs devised to go deep underground if they’re busted. Then we’d never find them again, and by the time they come out, it’d be too late. There’s also the fact that lately, the government has been putting its nose into their methods and that’s another can of worms altogether. We don’t want any suit to get a hold of this. And lastly… the Life Foundation is one of SI’s biggest adversaries on the market ever since Oscorp’s stock went down. They could just as simply accuse Tony of defamation and of using his privilege for industrial espionage.”
“You have a point”, Wade hummed, “and that’s without counting that they don’t like me and don’t trust me.”
“Can’t say I’m getting along well either, I’ve always been a loner and the cool gang usually doesn’t like that. Cap especially, he has nothing against me as a person, but our opinions on duty and responsibilities don’t match.”
“So we have no other choice but to deal with that ourselves, uh. The good old way.”
“Well, so far I think we make a great team, don’t you?” Webs said with a small smile. “Okay, let’s gather this and start patrolling.”
“Spidey, should you be patrolling when you have nothing in your stomach? I can still see your hand twitching.”

Peter deflated slightly.

“I’m not on top of my game but if I stop now, I’m going to fall apart. Swinging always helps.”

Wade looked at him, and sighed.

“Alright. No more than two hours, and then you come back home with me and I make good on that promised punishment.”

Spider-Man nodded, shifting slightly, and sent him a cocky grin before he tugged his mask down.

“C’mon, old man.”

He turned around to jump, and Wade’s gaze automatically landed on that plump, round ass of his – and this close, through the stretched spandex, he could make out the end of the plug.

[Didn’t you want to take this off before he went off swinging?]
{Let’s put it this way: this experience will open his eyes to a whole new world.}

Spidey jumped with a whoop and Wade watched as he caught himself at the last moment, body curving in a gracefully arch.

“Ah, shit. We are so fucked.”

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Peter only managed to patrol for three quarters of an hour before throwing in the proverbial towel. Not only was he extra-hungry, but swinging moved the plug in new and unexpected ways and it was a miracle he hadn’t stupidly killed himself yet. And the spandex did nothing to conceal his semi hard-on, he had never been more thankful for the dark of the night. The last thing he needed was a pic of his boner on the Daily Bugle’s front page, thank you – not that he’d seen Eddie lurking around tonight, but still.

Wade guided him to that French restaurant and then bemoaned that there was no way he could have fondue as a take-out, until the manager offered them a quiet corner behind a windbreaker. At this hour of the night, most of the clientele was either drunk or seriously jet-lagged, and no one cared about the two weirdos in costume. Which was how they found themselves with a large pot of melted cheese in between them and an array of chunks of bread and venison. Wade had also ordered escargots, the madman, and was peering into his plate curiously.

“Here goes nothing”, Wade said, lifting his mask up and stabbing the green stuff inside of the shell with the special pick, pulling out and immediately chomping down on it. “Oh god.”
“Please don’t throw up.”
“No, Webs, it’s so good! You have to try, the texture’s a bit weird but whatever that sauce is, I’d damn myself for it!”
Snails, Wade. That little thing that crawls out when it rains.”
“You can’t know until you’ve tried it!” the merc claimed, picking another one and holding it up to Peter’s mouth.

Peter frowned and gingerly pulled his mask up, hesitantly opening his mouth. His mouth pulled down into an expression of disgust and he swallowed.

“Never again. It was all squishy between my teeth”, he said with a shudder.
“Well, more for me then”, Wade replied, slurping loudly from the shell to get all the sauce.
“You heathen”, Peter said, picking a bit of bread and twirling it in the cheese.

Wade was quick to imitate him, but he promptly lost his bread to the pot and stared at it, dejected. He managed to retrieve it just as the waitress arrived with a bottle of red wine.

“On the house”, she said. “As thanks to both of you for protecting our city.” She smiled at Wade, who had been about to scramble to hide the bottom part of his face and had frozen at her expression. “You lost your bread? The tradition is, if you lose your bread, you get a dare.”
“Oh no”, Peter said, looking at her. “Please, no dare for him. You have no idea what he’s capable of.”
“That’s the rule”, the waitress insisted, and Peter wondered how she kept so calm and composed when faced with them, especially at this hour – it was like, five in the morning? People slept at this hour.
“Nah Spidey, let’s hear it! What’s the dare?”

She picked a folded piece of paper into the pocket of her apron and opened it.

“A break-dance demonstration”, she replied, looking delighted.

Wade pulled his mask down, popped his fingers and stood up, his feral grin showing through his mask.

“You asked for it, doll”, he purred.

Her eyes widened in amazement as Wade dropped move after move in a perfect showcase of strength and flexibility that the patrons and staff hadn’t expected, if their expressions were to say something. Peter had been more prepared, but he certainly could appreciate the show. Everyone clapped and Wade bowed with obvious pleasure before he slid back into his seat.

“Show-off”, Peter muttered as he popped a bit of cheesy bread in his mouth.

Wade rolled his eyes, and how could he do that through the mask?

“Like you don’t show off when people ask you for a somersault or a handstand on top of a building”, he retorted. “I’ve seen your vids, pal.”

Peter spluttered.

“I was sixteen! Of course I showed off!”
“Ouh, prickly”, Wade giggled as he resumed his night meal, opening the bottle of wine and pouring some for both.

Once sated and the food paid for, they made it back to their favourite rooftop via Spidey-Express and Peter wobbled a bit, a tad overstimulated by the plug.

“Now, I believe there’s something I had promised to take care of”, Wade said, his voice low and dark. “Drop the pants, Webs. Hands and forehead on the wall, and don’t move until I say so.”

He stumbled over his own feet with his eagerness to get in position, prompting a dark chuckle from Wade, and awkwardly shuffled to get the spandex down, the night air cold and chilly on his skin, his cock now fully hard and bobbing against his stomach, leaving a trail of precum there.

“You look wonderful like that, Webs. One day, we’ll do that again, except when I’ll take the plug off, it’ll be to fuck you.”
“You could do that now”, Peter breathed, shivering.
“Baby boy, I’m punishing you. So you learn your lesson.” He felt Wade move, so close to his flushed skin he was almost brushing against it, but didn’t dare to look back. “Now”, Wade said, and Peter realized he had to be kneeling, his face level with his pushed-out ass, and he felt his face burn underneath the mask. “What is it I’m punishing you for?”
“For coming without permission, Sir”, Peter replied.
“And?”
“For lying to you, Sir.”
“Good. Usually I’d make that two sets of ten spanks, but I’ve got a feeling you’d like it way too much. It wouldn’t be much of a punishment then, would it?”

Peter’s breath stuttered. With his position and Wade’s dark promises, he had been expecting a spanking, had been hoping for one.

“Would it?” Wade repeated, his tone rough and unforgiven just as his hand squeezed his cheek harshly, pulling on his rim and sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine.
“N-No Sir”, Peter replied once he’d caught his breath, on the verge of crying out.
“I want to spoil you, Webs, I really do… But first you need to be punished.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Not yet, you’re not.”

He almost jolted when he felt something thin and cold against his skin, and his stomach sank when he felt it move in a precise pattern: writing. Wade was writing on him. In big, round letters that he couldn’t decipher – his mind was buzzing too much, his fingers sticking to the wall as he breathed deeply. In the end, it didn’t take long. He heard Wade cap whatever pen he’d used and felt his gloved hands squeeze at his thigh as he admired his handiwork.

“Beautiful. Do you want me to take a pic to show you, Spidey?”

Peter nodded, unsure he wouldn’t sob if he tried to talk. He could feel the humiliation burning in his veins, and yet, yet he was thankful for the punishment – because Wade cared, Wade wanted him to learn, Wade wanted him to be better. He could be better, he just had to listen.

“I need an answer, baby boy. With words.”
“Y-Yes, yes Sir”, he gasped.

He felt Wade pulled away and a minute later, his phone appeared in his line of sight. He gulped at the sight of the pic: his own ass on display, the plug very obvious, and his shoulders vaguely showing above. He could easily make out his suit, though. And, in large, rounded cursive, two sentences were written in black permanent marker – one on each cheek: I came without permission and I lied to my master.

“Thank you, Sir”, he whispered.
“You’re welcome, darling. Now, do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You can pull your pants back on, Spidey. It’s really cold out there, how about we go to mine’s and I reward you?”

Peter nodded and pulled the spandex back to cover his ass, and yet he knew the writing was there and it made him shudder. They gathered their things and Peter slid his backpack on his shoulders while Wade cuffed the case to his utility belt, and then he pulled Wade close, webbing the case to his thigh so it wouldn’t bump into them along the way, and motioned for Wade to jump. The merc did just that, holding on tight, and Peter leaped, launching them into the night-sky.

Swinging around with Wade holding onto him was a completely different experience, but it was one he loved. Okay, maybe not when Wade’s hips constantly nudged his boner. But usually, he loved it. It also meant he was slower, but it was still way better than being stuck in traffic. He landed on the fire-escape outside of Wade’s window and they slipped inside, both stretching and taking off their boots. Peter snorted at the sight of Wade’s mismatched socks - one pink with golden stars, the other midnight blue with white snowflakes – before he snatched off his gloves and slid his mask up to his nose.

It was when his hands went down that he noticed. He noticed his painted nails glowing from the very nail-polish Wade had applied to Peter Parker’s nails. And Wade was facing him, frozen.

Oh, great.

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

[Well, we’re fucked.]
{LIE! PLAY STUPID, YOU DO THAT WELL!}
[He knows full well we’re not that stupid.]
{He’ll be mad if we tell him!}
SHUT. UP.

“Nice nail polish, Webs.”

{FUCK YOU.}
[…That was probably the worst thing you could say.]

Spidey stood frozen as Wade switched on the light, and then let out a long, suffering sigh.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, uh?” he said, pulling his mask off completely to reveal his brown eyes full of apprehension. “You don’t seem very surprised”, he said after a moment. “How long have you known?”

Wade licked his lips, considered lying for a brief second before remembering what Spidey had told him after they met – “please don’t lie to my face” – and settled for the truth.

“The moment I saw Peter Parker’s eyes”, he admitted. “I couldn’t… Fuck, Peter, I could never forget your eyes, even with the swiss cheese brain of mind.”

That startled Peter, who hadn’t been expecting this answer.

“My eyes? Wait, you knew all this time?”
“I didn’t want to freak you out! I never intended to find your identity out before you were okay to tell me, but then I met you-you and I knew!”

Peter let out a strangled laugh.

“Please just give me a minute”, he said after a moment. “Wow. You found out like, so fast.”
“Well, you’re not exactly good at keeping secrets”, Wade said.

[Well done. Insult him. That will surely help.]

“Uh, excuse you? I’ve been Spidey for, like, twenty years and you and my ex-wife are the only ones who know!”
“Are you very upset?” Wade asked after a moment.
“Upset? At myself for being stupid, yes. Not at you, you’re a merc, you’re brilliant and I was a careless idiot. Also, I trust you to keep this secret better than I do.”
“That won’t be difficult.”
“Will you please cut the sass?”
“Or what? What will you do, Peter?”

{Mmh, yes, provocation, that always worked so well.}

“I’m very tempted to throw you out the window right now”, Peter threatened, and Wade stomped forward, crowding him against the wall.
“No, you won’t. Because if you do, you’re gonna be super frustrated and I won’t be there to help relieve your poor, aching prick.”

[That’s a risky gamble, Wade.]
{Oooh I like where this is going.}

“Fuck you, Wade”, Peter seethed, but Wade felt him relax – there would be no fighting tonight, not when Peter was this wound up.
“Nuh-uh. Fuck you.”

Peter snorted and, wow.

[I can’t believe it worked. This guy is insane.]

“Wait a fucking minute. That’s why you enticed me to bend over for you at Sissy Margaret’s, isn’t it?”

Peter’s cheeks were flushed pure red, and wasn’t that endearing? Wade grinned, dropping his hands to Peter’s hips.

“I’ll admit I took advantage of the situation.”

Peter took a breath and looked into his eyes.

“So you know who I am and I’m not wearing the mask. Won’t you take your own mask off? Please, Wade. I don’t know what you had in mind as a reward, but it’ll be hotter with your eyes on me rather than white lenses.”
“Spidey-”
“No, don’t say it. I’m asking for too much, aren’t I?” he said in a slightly saddened voice.

His hand shot out and a glob of web connected with the light switch, turning it off and plunging the two of them in the dark once more. They would discern shapes and form, but that was all.

“Keep the mask on if you feel better this way”, he said. “But I want you to know that I don’t care about how your skin looks like. Your eyes are the drop-dead kind of gorgeous and I would drool over your muscles if you let me. But please, I have one request: take the gloves off. I want your hands on me, not leather.”

{Well, it’s kind of like with the blindfold, isn’t it?}
[We could use a blindfold again. We’d see him better with the light on.]

“Alright”, he said in a breath.

Slowly, he undid the gloves and pulled them off, his fingers trembling, hesitant.

“Kiss me?” Peter asked, looking at him expectantly, and this, this he could do.

So he tugged his mask up to free his mouth and crashed his mouth with Peter’s, delighted that he could use his name now as he plundered his mouth and pushed him into the wall. He pulled away, breathless, but Peter chased his lips and he had to grab his hair and hold him back, smirking at his spider’s eagerness.

“Tell me, Petey-pie. How long can you stay with your head down?”

Peter shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I don’t get a head-rush so it’s not a problem.”

Wade couldn’t stop himself from grinning, predatory.

“Oh, baby boy, I’m going to mess you up so bad. Now let’s get you out of all this spandex before you ruin your suit again.”

Peter’s breath hitched and he pushed Wade back with a hand on his chest, hastily divesting himself of his suit to stand naked, and Wade kinda regretted not being able to see this – in time, he would. Oh, yes. One day he’d just lay down and watch Peter take it like a champ, bouncing on his lap – but not today. Today, he wanted to catch the spider in his own web.

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Peter had expected to be very upset if someone ever found out his secret identity. And true, he’d had a flash of panic – what if something happened to Wade? What if Wade happened to MJ? – before he realized he was being stupid. Wade was immortal, he would never have to worry about the guy dying – he would, goddammit he would, but he didn’t have to. And Wade would never hurt him by hurting MJ. And he trusted Wade to not say a thing, which was a bit weird considering they’d known each other for barely a month.

Also he was very, very horny and in desperate need of release. Deadpool-provided if possible. So that was how he’d found himself standing completely naked in Wade’s living-room, plug still in place and bouncing on his heels with manic energy as the merc slowly circled around him, fingers trailing around his waist, gentle and slightly bumpy.

“You’re a work of art, you know that?” Wade breathed.
“Wade”, he whispered, “please. I can’t take it anymore. Like, I have a severe case of blue-balls.”

Wade scoffed and had a fit of laughter, before pulling him into his arms, his still-clothed dick bumping against his ass as his beefy arms wrapped around his torso, a hand slowly sliding down his stomach to his cock, fingers wrapping around it and slowly jerking him to full hardness. Peter couldn’t stop the wanton moan that fell from his lips as his legs buckled, turning to jelly at the already overwhelming touch. Wade’s suit was coldish against his skin, especially the metal buckles of the several harnesses on his body.

“I have half the mind to jerk you off like this and watch you come prettily all over yourself”, he purred in his ear, and Peter would have probably come on the spot if he hadn’t pulled his hand away just then. “Now, listen closely, darling, ‘cause I won’t say it twice.”

And Peter could only whimper and shiver when Wade told him exactly how he wanted him, and it was oh so completely different than how he’d kept him in the dark about his punishment. The anticipation was going to kill him more surely than any of the villains he’d ever fought. Wade gave him a moment to gather himself and went to gather necessities in his bedroom, leaving Peter to follow his instructions.

Back in the days, when everything was still well, Peter took off his web-shooters when he wasn’t in costume. When things started to go south with MJ, even before Aunt May’s death, he’d taken to keeping them on more and more. And since the divorce, he had only taken them off to shower and for his interview with Weasel. So he hadn’t taken them off when he’d tugged off his suit, which had been a good idea in retrospective. He fired to the ceiling and hopped up, so he had his head down and feet cradling the web, sticking to it fiercely. From there, he fired another string, and then another, quickly forming a web from which he hung.

His eyes zeroed in on Wade’s silhouette, holding a towel he apparently used as a bundle for everything he needed. And then, he switched the bedroom’s light off and closed the door, and the only light was the very faint one from the window’s outline, and his own glowing nails. He was thankful for his hearing that let him not be too disoriented, and his slightly-better-than-average night vision, especially when he heard Wade knock into a piece of furniture and swear mid-voice. He fired a web to the store and pulled it up, letting some light filter into the room. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make out shapes – enough that Wade’s breath hitched when he saw him.

And then Wade was standing in front of him and Peter was pretty sure he was facing his crotch. His blood sang with the possibility of sixty-nining while he hung from his webs, and he mouthed at the clothed outline of Wade’s length. He’d tried once with MJ but they’d ended up in a tangled mess and had decided upside-down kisses were good enough.

Fuck, Peter!” Wade growled, hips pushing instinctively into his face, before the merc could grab his hair again and pull him back. “Great idea, but not what I had in mind”, he let out, sounding a bit strained. Just a tiny bit. “Lower a bit more, you’re too high.”

Peter frowned and slid along Wade’s thighs, stopping when he patted his hip.

“Perfect. Now get your feet in place.”

Shakily, Peter extended one leg to another part of his web, and stuck his feet to it, before doing the same with the other one. His legs were largely parted now, and he felt very exposed. Slowly, as Wade had instructed, he let go of his hands and grabbed onto Wade’s thighs, holding onto them like a lifeline.

“All good?”
“One day I’m going to make a giant web and fuck you into it”, he let out with more bravado than he felt.
“I like your ideas”, Wade replied, fingers skimming along his stretched rim, and Peter gasped in surprised pleasure.

Oh. Wade was at the perfect height to do whatever he wanted to his ass, and he’d been too stupid to see that. To realize he was just high enough for Wade to see him and be able to work him comfortably. Deftly, Wade pulled the plug out and set it nearby, fingers digging into the meat of his butt and brushing against his now empty hole, spreading the lube the toy had freed. Two thick fingers slipped into him knuckle-deep, punching a sound out of him as Wade set in search of his prostate.

It was amazing, the way they rubbed into him, gentle and firm – and it was even more amazing when Wade found it and pushed the pad of his finger into his soft spot, making Peter moan and shake as he held on for dear life.

“You sound so broken already, Webs”, Wade said. “You like my fingers in you that much?”
“M-More”, he pleaded. “Please, Wade, more.”
“More? Aren’t you a little slut, baby boy. You like having your holes filled, don’t you? Like a good little whore. I’ll indulge you, then”, Wade replied, his wet fingers bumping against Peter’s lips, asking for entrance.

So Peter parted his lips and took them in, nibbling on the pads and stroking his tongue along the bumps and ridges. Wade didn’t let him do that for long, pulling away and flicking open a cap – Peter guessed it was the lube, because apparently Wade was going at it with the “better safe than sorry” philosophy. Honestly, Peter didn’t care – he just wanted something to fill him up and bring him to completion and maybe-

He spluttered and wiped his face, startling Wade who nearly tripped over himself.

“Peter? Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine”, Peter replied, frowning as he felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. “Apparently the gravity works on my blood but not on other fluids.”
“…I have to see that.”
“No you don’t”, Peter replied as Wade wheezed in laughter and, apparently having forgotten the bits of his skin on display, switched on a small light in the corner of the room by pulling on the web attached to it. His laughter got worse when he saw the precum drippling from Peter’s cock right down onto his face.
“You look hella good, sugar. I’ve always wondered if you could suck your own dick. I can because obviously I’m that good, and you’ve got the flexibility thing.”
“I can”, Peter replied with a suffering sigh, switching the light off again because Wade wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with the thought of being on display.

The light-switch was now completely covered by web-fluid. That would be a hassle to take down later, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to care when Wade was dutifully pouring cold lube right over his asshole. He twitched and gasped, trying to pull away, but Wade had a tight grasp over his thigh, almost bruising. Of course, he could have escaped if he’d wanted to, but the thing was he didn’t. Wade poured more into his hand and grabbed Peter’s cock, spreading it as he jerked him, and Peter moaned before chuckling.

“W-Wait, is this really…?”
“Glow in the dark lube? Damn yes”, Wade answered, his hand sliding down on Peter’s abs and covering them in luminescent lube. “And look at this baby”, he added, reaching out and pulling a just as glowing dildo from under the towel. “Think you can take it, Petey?”

Peter’s mouth had dried in apprehension just as more precum slid down his rock hard cock, because the fake dick was quite long – longer than most of his toys – though it wasn’t very large. And he very much wanted it in, like, right now.

“Wade you’d better get started because if you don’t, I’m snatching this one out of your hands to shove it in”, he growled threateningly – or tried to, his voice turned out to be an aroused moan that made Deadpool’s breath hitch.

His mouth fell open on a soundless moan when Wade held him open to push the head of the toy inside, both of them watching as the light gradually disappeared into his open body. So. This was hot. Hotter than most of the things Peter had done, because he’d always been the kinky one in his mostly vanilla relationship with MJ. He’d used most of his toys alone, and to have someone with him for this, watching him, doing this to him… Well, it was a fucking strong turn-on. His grip on Wade’s thighs strengthened as he begged him for more.

And Wade was a damn wretched tease, pulling the dildo out when he’d only breached him a bit, slowly pushing it in, a bit farther. At this rhythm, they wouldn’t be done by sunrise. So Peter let go of Wade’s thighs, grabbed his wrists and pretty much shoved the toy in to the hilt, making a punched out sound as pleasure zinged through his body.

“Zero patience”, Wade replied, clicking his tongue, wrenching the toy out and setting it nearby, still dripping with lube. “You don’t learn your lesson easily, do you, Peter?”
“Fucking get on with it, ‘Pool”, Peter growled, trying to eye the toy. Maybe he could fire a web at it and snatch it away?

…Was it even a good idea to get webs in his body? Probably not. He didn’t have time to ponder it any further, because Wade grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled him up, making him cry out a loud moan as he found himself on his hands and knees while also being held only by the webs at his feet and Wade’s hand in his hair.

“Don’t use that kind of tone with me, Webs”, Wade growled, low and dangerous. “I warned you, didn’t I?”

Peter gasped, his scalp burning, back and throat singing with strain and pain, eyes watering as his body struggled to keep him in position.

“Y-Yes”, he replied, licking his lips, “yes sir.”
“Five, Peter. Count them down for me, and thank me for each one.”

Peter’s eyes widened at the command, but before he could protest or even say anything, a large, calloused hand fell down on his ass, right in the centre. His cock twitched and spilled precum all over the ground as he gasped both in pain and pleasure.

“O-One. Thank you, sir.”
“Damn right, baby boy, you should thank me for taking such good care of you. Teaching you manners and everything”, Wade rumbled, his hand landing a second time – lower this time, no longer on the full round mound of Peter’s ass but at the sensitive skin where thigh met cheeks.
“OW! Two. Fuck you, sir.”
“Alright. Five more. Taking it back from the beginning.”

Peter squirmed, trying to get a look at his partner. Fuck-buddy? Dom, for the moment, that was for sure.

“Are you serious?”
“When it comes to you? Always, darling”, Wade purred, squeezing his ass. “Now, behave if you want to get some D.”

Peter huffed, and took a breath. Wade’s hand stroke down again, harder than before and jolting him forward.

“One. Thank you, sir”, he replied, subdued.

He was totally getting lube all over, because Wade hadn’t cared enough to wipe what he had on his hands. Gosh, he probably had lube handprints over his backside. Over the words written in marker. Wade’s hand came down again, this time hitting upwards, making his ass bounce, and it was a damn shame Wade couldn’t see how it jiggled. He’d probably blow his load right then and there.

“Two! Thank you, sir”, Peter gasped, pulling on a string and switching on the light. “How do you like your handiwork, sir?”
“Not red enough”, Wade grunted, struggling to keep himself in check.
“Three”, Peter moaned. “Th-Thank you, sir.”
“Is the lesson sinking in?”
“Not yet, sir”, Peter whispered, and another blow landed on his right cheek. “Four! Thank you, sir. Please, teach me, sir.”
“Oh definitely”, Wade answered, raining blows in quick succession, not letting Peter catch his breath as Peter whined to get the numbers out. “That’s eight, sir. Thank you, sir”, he gasped, tears stinging his eyes and cock so hard it hurt. He would come anytime now, cock filling him up or not.
“Colours, Pete. Can you take them harder?”

Peter breathed in deep, checking his body out. He desperately wanted to say yes, but his spine was straining a bit too hard and his scalp burning. But they could work up to that. They could work up to all the kinky scenarios in his spank bank. He intended to, at least.

“Orange. It’s been a while, Wade. We’ll have to work up to it.”
“Only if you feel up for it, Peter”, Wade replied seriously. “Do you want to stop?”
“No”, Peter gasped, squirming. “No, I can take two more. Just, not harder.”
“Okay”, Wade said.

The ninth blow made the skin of his upper thighs sting and tears definitely spilled over his cheeks. The tenth sent wild shivers up and down into his body, as Wade tenderly started to massage his red backside. Slowly, Wade let go of his head and let him flop forward.

“Please, sir. I need to come, sir.”
“See, when you want, you’re very polite”, Wade replied. “You’ll come when I say so, sweetheart.”

He squeezed his ass and flipped the light off again, grabbing the dildo and bringing it between his legs again. This time, he sank it halfway in before he started to pull it out, and then pushed it back in – to the hilt. Peter let out a broken down moan, his thighs shaking from the exertion, as Wade established a moderate rhythm, fucking the toy in and out of him, before he grabbed his cock and started to jerk him off.

“W-Wade, I’m so close, sir, please sir, I’m so close, I’m so close!”
“Come for me, baby boy”, Wade rumbled, bent over him and weighing between his thighs, wide shoulders in the way – and Peter did.

It washed over him, something in him snapping as he spilled – mostly over the floor, though Wade’s hand caught some, as did his face. The dildo was still buried deep into him, and he carefully tugged it out as his feet started to slip on his webs. He shot a web out to catch himself, righting himself up and finally setting his feet on the ground. Right into the puddle of cum. Grimacing, he grabbed Wade’s harness and pulled him close to kiss him soundly, breathless and shaking with the after-glow.

“That was so good, Wade”, he whispered. “What do you need?”
“I-” Wade gulped. “Ah- I want-”

Peter switched the light on again and fell to his knees, grinning up to him.

“How about I keep you safe and warm while you decide?”

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade’s brain short-fused. Peter was looking up at him with those sinful brown eyes wide and still hazy with pleasure, lips parted and panting over his leather-clad crotch while still naked. His cheeks were flushed red and there was drying pre-cum on his cheek, and some of his own fresh release too. He looked purely debauched and Wade was weak for that. His hands reached for his flies and pulled them down, taking his cock out, and Peter moaned as his hand closed around his girth. He lost no time bringing him to his mouth, lips stretching around the head and barely able to take him in. Without thinking, because all the blood that was usually in his brain had gone down into his dick, he hooked his fingers into Peter’s hair, generously coating the wet brown mop with a mix of sperm and lube. Yeah, Peter would probably hate him for that.

“A bit big for you, uh, baby boy?” he couldn’t help himself but ask, and Peter’s answer was to release him and lick his scarred shaft from base to tip without breaking eye-contact.
“Just have to train, sir”, he finally said.
{I’m in love.}
[We are so fucked. Like, really. We have it bad.]
“Yeah”, Wade breathed, “we can definitely do that.”

Peter’s lips and mouth felt searing on him, even though he only had the head of his dick in his mouth. Wade slid his other hand down to cup Peter’s chin, and grinned.

“If I go slow and shallow, can I fuck your mouth, darling?”

A vibrating moan around his cock answered him, and Peter stilled, putting a hand on his thigh and giving him three sharp taps.

“Got it, sweetums. Three taps to stop.”

He felt Peter’s efforts to relax his jaw and breathe through his nose as he slowly slid a bit farther into his pliant, waiting mouth, the warm tongue rolling against his underside, welcoming him. Slowly, he pulled back, barely leaving the tip past Peter’s lips, before he pushed in again, a bit farther. So, he very much wanted to fuck Peter’s throat, watch it bulge with his width and feel Peter’s struggles to breathe as he chose dick over basic air – and he said as much to the spider.

Peter’s fingers on his thigh tightened, gripping him firmly as if to anchor himself, and Wade held still for a second, slowly rolling his hips back and forth with a light pant. Peter on his knees was so fucking hot it should be illegal. But he wanted more. Slowly, he pulled himself out, holding Peter tightly while knowing the guy could break out of his hold anytime.

“Gonna manhandle you a bit, darling”, he purred, pulling him to his feet roughly and pushing him to the couch, which was close, and bending him over the backrest. Just to be on the safe side, he slicked himself up with more lube and slid between Peter’s cheeks, against his sensitive hole, gripping his hips as though he was about to fuck him into the couch.
Which wasn’t that far from his intentions, actually.

“You can handle that, baby?” he breathed over his nape, covering Spidey’s smaller form with his own, and Peter shook against him.
“God yes, please”, Peter gasped, fingers digging into the cushions that had known better days, even with the cleaning they’d done.

Wade started slow, but quickly lost himself to the rhythm of Spidey’s rhythmic ah, ah of pleasure as he thrust between the two tight buns of his ass, admiring how red he’d gotten them to be, and how his handwriting complemented Peter’s skin.

“Fuck, fuck, Peter, gonna come, gonna come!” he warned before he spilled all over the small of his back.

Peter groaned, his legs buckling, and Wade held him up even though his own legs were jelly, and arm looped around his waist and lips pressed to his now really disgusting hair.

“You were so good, damn, Petey-pie, you’re going to drive me even crazier.”
“You know”, Peter slurred, head lolling onto his shoulder with a loopy smile, “you called my asscheeks “tight buns”, but I think you missed the stuffing part.”

Wade snorted and blew a raspberry on his shoulder.

“You dork. I’m taking care of you. We should shower.”
“We should”, Peter groaned. “I don’t have the faith to.”
“Morning?”
“Mmh, yes. I don’t care about being all gross and sweaty with you, we’re both slobs anyway.”
“True that”, Wade agreed. “Just let me-”

He grabbed the towel he’d brought and tried to wipe the mess in Peter’s hair, to no avail. Only a thorough shampooing would get rid of that. He wiped his face instead, and then, carefully, the mess on his crotch and back, and between his legs, before he did the same with his own hands and dick. Swiftly, he lifted Peter bridal-style and carried him to the bedroom, putting him on the mattress.

“Just sleep, darling, I’m gonna put on more comfortable clothes”, he said, and Peter hummed sleepily.

Swiftly, he let his suit fall to the ground and slid into sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt that would soon have holes into it. Taking a deep breath, he took off his mask and set it aside. He’d just have to put it back on before Peter woke up. Taking care not to wake Peter up, he slid into bed with him and settled against his side, knowing they’d regret their laziness in the morning, and unable to care.

Wade didn’t remember falling asleep, but it had been a restful night – though, could you really call it a night when you slept from the crack of dawn to past mid-day? He rubbed his eyes and found himself smiling softly at the armful of lightly snoring Spidey he had. Peter was still out cold, soft, relaxed and beautiful. Yes, even with all the fluids dried in his hair. Unable to stop himself, he pressed a kiss to that no longer wrinkled forehead before he pulled on the mask. A glance at his phone told him it was largely past time for them to be up and about. Gently, he rubbed at Peter’s nape, who mumbled and pressed deeper into his chest.

“Wake up, sweet-cheeks”, he chuckled lightly.
“Mmh”, Peter answered, burrowing deeper under the covers and against him. “Don’t wan’ to”, he mumbled.
“C’mon. I’ll make breakfast while you shower, okay? Because let’s face it, we’ve reached quite a level of disgusting.”
“Your fault”, Peter grumbled, finally waking up.

His eyes blinked open, crinkled from the soft light coming in through the blinds, the usual dark chocolate illuminated, and more like whiskey-amber or honeyed chocolate. Wade stopped breathing for a second.

[It should be illegal, to be this beautiful.]
I so did not miss you. Can’t I wake up in peace?
{I want a go at that ass again. He’s all ready against our thigh.}

 

Somehow during the night, Peter had crawled over him to use his chest as a pillow, hips settled between his legs, and Wade couldn’t find it in himself to complain. Even if his own cock was hard as a rock and pinched between their bodies, or if he could feel Peter’s morning wood against the inside of his thigh. Also, Peter was still very much naked under there.

“Come here”, Wade rumbled, taking a handful of pert ass and pulling Peter up.

Peter yelped but quickly regained himself, sliding Wade’s mask up to his nose and kissing him as he started to lazily roll his hips down. Yes, absolutely perfect.

“Mmh, best waking up ever”, Peter whispered against his jaw, licking and nipping at the scarred skin without a care in the world. “I want to come with you, Wade.”

Wade shivered and slid his pants down just enough to free his cock, lining up with Peter and wrapping his hand around them. Peter shook and let out a moan, rocking into his fist as he kissed him lazily… and perhaps it was a bit too soft and too tender, closer to making love than the rough fucks they’d had until now.

[We’re so gonna regret it.]
We need it and you know it.

And Peter did too, if the broken noises he made said anything. It wasn’t anything like the evening before, it felt like… like more, and Peter was losing himself rapidly. Wade sped up his hand a bit to catch up to him, Peter’s breath hitched and he came with a garbled moan against his mouth, spilling over them. Wade lost no time invading his mouth and claiming it, coming too and definitely overwhelmed by all the nastily sweet feelings welling up in him. Disgusting.

The kisses turned lazy and Wade seriously wondered if they’d make it out of bed. Eventually though, Peter pulled away and knelt up, and Wade’s heart panged at the sight, when the blankets fell away to reveal him in all his naked glory. Peter smirked and bent over to grab something on the nightstand – Wade’s phone – which he handed to him.

“Take a pic, it’ll last longer.”

Wade nearly choked in surprise.

“Are you sure?”
“Private use only, that’s my only condition”, Peter added with a wink, before bending slowly to look at him from underneath his lashes. “For the spank-bank”, he added in a whisper.
“I’m not gonna pass an opportunity like that”, Wade groaned as Peter straightened up, completely on display.

The lighting and angle hid the mess in his hair, but there was still their morning release splattered over his abdomen, and Wade was pretty sure he would just die-

{Dying of arousal? Is that a thing? That would be a fitting death for us.}
[You are both complete and utter idiots.]

Peter took the phone as soon as the pic was taken, looked at it and clicked his tongue.

“You’re crap at taking pics, Wilson”, he said in a stern voice.

And Wade watched, amazed, as Peter twisted this way and that, taking an array of pics before dropping the phone on Wade’s chest. As Wade scrambled to pick it up, Spidey got up and directly to the bathroom, where Wade heard the shower running. Still, he took the time to look at each of the explicit and absolutely breath-taking photos Peter had taken: in one, he showed off the lithe expanse of his body, ending with his crotch settled over Wade’s shirt and hiding his own limp and scarred cock. Another showed a lustful, dark gaze direct down at him, as though Spidey had been riding him, and damn Wade was hard again.

“You’re a little shit, sweetums!” he hollered, and he heard Peter cackle in answer.

He was just sitting up when his phone started to ring, Weasel’s personal number appearing on the bright screen.

[What does the fucker want?]
{It’s too early!}
It’s early afternoon, dipshit, Wade replied before he answered the call.

“It’s better be important because there’s a gorgeous hot bod in my shower and its name starts with an S, if you catch my drift.”
“I really, really don’t want to know what you and Spider-Man get up to”, Weasel groused. “Listen, you wanted me to tell you if I heard of anything weird that might be related to your zombies, right? You feared some kind of epidemic?”

Wade straightened, attentive now.

“Yeah. What have you got for me?”
“Not sure”, Weasel replied, “but it seemed fishy enough I knew you’d want to take a look at it. It’s in San Fran. People who had disappeared a few months ago are reappearing all over the city. Dead, with the spine torn off, from what I gathered. Or rather… well, that’s gonna sound really weird, but more like bitten off.”

Wade shivered.

“The spine? Anything else?”
“All people between twenty and thirty-five who were remarkably healthy before their disappearance. Like, the kind who did sports more than once every month and ate green. And who presented no kind of genetic disease or anything of the sort.”
“So people at their best, who should be more resistant. Mutants?”
“Not as far as I know, but I can check.”
“Do that”, Wade replied. “I’ll go up to check on this, then. It does seem weird.”

He cut off the call and turned to find Peter wrapped in a towel, his arms crossed and looking at him with a thoughtful frown.

“I should go with you”, he said. “That sounds like my area of expertise.”
“Not a good idea. Spidey is needed here, especially with the zombies. Just because we haven’t had an incident in a few days doesn’t mean we won’t have one. Also, Weasel is smarter than he seems. If he doesn’t know who you are already, he definitely will if you need days off to follow me there.” Wade smiled and stepped closer, tipping Peter’s chin up with his fingers. “I’ll take samples for you, and make sure to stay in contact.”

Peter nodded, slightly dejected but knowing that Wade was right.

“Be careful”, he replied. “Something doesn’t sit right here, I don’t like it.”
“Don’t worry, they can’t kill me.”
“Doesn’t mean they can’t try”, Peter replied, his lip curling in anger.
“I’ll send you dick pics so you know I’m alright.”
This is why you’re annoying”, Peter said, thumping his fist lightly against his chest. “When are you leaving?”
“As soon as I’m ready. I’ll take the sedan, to avoid flight control. It’s a two days drive, though I could probably make it in less.” He grinned and pecked Peter’s lips. “Not this time, but one day we’ll just take the car and go on a roadtrip, you and me. Stop at shitty motels where we’ll hear the couple next-door doing the cha-cha-cha real slow and end up sleeping in the car, or camping outside. Maybe we could take the pick-up, to sleep at the back?” He let his lips wander to Peter’s ear and nibbled on it, whispering: “We could get nasty there, too. Car sex is awesome.”

Peter shivered and closed his eyes for a second, before he pushed Wade away with both hands on his chest.

“That sounds like a great plan. Once I’m no longer in the red and this investigation is closed, we’ll do just that. It’s been too long since I last had vacations that weren’t forced.”
“It’s a date, then.”

Chapter Text

~~ PETER ~~

Peter was pretty sure he’d let things go way too far already, but he couldn’t seem to stop. The previous night had been absolutely awesome, but somehow, the morning sex, as simple as it had been, had been even more. And now… Well, now Wade was leaving for whoever knew how long, on the other side of the continent. Talk about rotten luck.

He opened his bag and, after draping his towel over the back of a chair, he pulled on his clothes from the day before, since he had nothing else except his Spider-Man costume, and he didn’t feel like swinging home.

“You know, you can stay for breakfast. I’m not going yet.”
“Nah, I should go back before they think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere”, Peter replied, shaking his head as he shrugged on his coat. “See you soon”, he added, pressing a kiss to Wade’s masked face, at the corner of his mouth.

Going to Sissy Margaret’s knowing he wouldn’t see Wade was a bit depressing, but Peter hung on. Actually, without Wade to distract him every two minutes, Peter found out Weasel was friendly enough, when he actually bothered to be. There was no one as funny as Wade, sure, but many patrons laughed when he quipped the way he did as Spider-Man. Back when he’d been with MJ, Spider-Man and Peter Parker had been two different persons, who had happened to share the same body. Peter Parker had been quiet and somewhat submissive, never daring to draw attention to himself – at his core, still the frail nerd Flash used to smash. Spider-Man was the masked vigilante with a strong set of morals, a tongue that knew how to lash out, and a knack for attracting trouble.

And then, Peter had found himself alone and the two had started to merge together. He wasn’t sure he could keep them apart now – scrap that, he knew he couldn’t, Wade was proof enough of that. The crowd at Sister Margaret’s made it even harder: Peter Parker would have been eaten alive, if for some reason he had ever set foot there. Spider-Man, on the other end, should have arrested them all. And here he was, chattering and laughing with them and it didn’t feel weird – or rather, it no longer felt weird. Patrol was calm that day, and he sent a pic to Wade, a Spidey selfie from the top of the Empire State building just because he could, along with the message the sharpie still hasn’t worn off, I don’t know whether I hate you or not.

Wade only answered two days later with a selfie of his own: splayed out on the roof of his car, his mask clearly showing his grin. The message that came along with it said that he had clearly busted all the previous records for this kind of travel, since he’d only stopped for gas instead of taking a pause to eat and especially to sleep during what should have been a week-long travel. Speed limits are for babies, he added, and Peter felt dread slide and settle against his spine at the thought of a sleep-deprived Deadpool driving well above speed limits and weaving through traffic.

To: Daddypool.
Please don’t be so reckless.

Wade answered him with a tongue-sticking emoji and Peter groaned, dropping his phone down on the counter. It was a calm night, from what he’d gathered, there was some kind of illegal meeting downtown, though he wasn’t sure if it was catch – ah ah – or something else.

“Look at that”, he heard someone drawl, and he groaned inwardly.

He hadn’t heard the guy talk much, but he’d taken such an instant dislike to him that he recognized him anywhere. He looked up, swiping his phone off the counter and pocketing it in one move. Craig was one of the several gang leaders who gathered here. He wasn’t much into hired assassination, but heavily into drug deals. Recently though, it seemed he’d been trying his hand at being a pimp. That meant his relationship with Deadpool was more strained than ever, but they’d talked about it together a bit and Wade had explained how he had to tolerate the guy, if only because killing him would bring on a succession war, and then a turf war, leading to all out violence very likely to spread far and wide into New-York. Preserving numerous lives by allowing one asshole to live – however, if he went down the human-trafficking way, either Peter would have to step in as Spider-Man, or Wade would cut Craig into dices.

That wasn’t the only reason Peter didn’t like Craig. Him and his crew were outwardly homophobic and while they knew better than to flap their gums in Wade’s presence, when he wasn’t there, all the bets were out. Peter had gritted his teeth a few times through their comments, but that was only because it wouldn’t do for him to show he knew how to hold his own in a fight – double ah ah.

“Not so brave when your daddy’s not there to save your ass, uh?”

Peter took a deep breath and met Craig’s eyes, pulling a smile up to his lips.

“What shall I serve you tonight, gentlemen?” he asked with all the morgue he could gather.
“Quit playing, Parker”, Craig snapped. “You shouldn’t be behind that bar; you should be working the street.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment to my amazing physique”, Peter drawled, glaring daggers. “Once again, what shall I serve you tonight, aside from some eye-candy for you all thirsting gentlemen?”
“Don’t play smart with me, boy”, Craig threatened leaning over the counter, and Peter couldn’t help his snort.
“Boy? I’m like, ten years older than you, babycheeks”, he replied, mentally slapping himself for that. And Wade, for good measure, the damned man was totally rubbing off on him and not in the way Peter liked.

Craig’s fair, milk-coloured skin took on a puce shade of red and Peter wouldn’t have been surprised if smoke had puffed out of his nose. The very few other patrons glanced his way, entertained, but not enough to intervene.

“You’ve done it”, Craig said through gritted teeth, snapping his fingers.

Peter’s spider-sense warned him, but he couldn’t react in a completely human way to dodge the two muscles coming from either side of the bar to grab him. He made a show of struggling as they dragged him out into the bar, wondering how the hell he would pull himself out of that one.

The first punch caught him on the cheek, hard enough to make him flinch.

“Not so brave when Deadpool’s not around, uh, Parker?”
“Not so brave when Deadpool is around, uh, death-breath?” he snapped back, knowing he’d regret it.

He took another hit to the stomach, making him heave and barely holding off throwing up. This was not good. Not good at all.

“You sure are mouthy, no wonder that degenerate son-of-a-bitch keeps you around. Birds of a feather…” Craig’s fingers gripped his chin, pulling his head up, and headbutting him right into his admittedly perfect nose was really, really tempting at the moment. “Word is he keeps you as his fuck-toy, but I’m not sure he’s capable of much given his state of decay. Shall I see for myself?”
“Careful, Craig, that’s sounds a bit too gay for you”, Peter drawled.

The slap echoed in the room, more humiliating than painful. Craig clearly didn’t see him as a worthy opponent.

“You know”, Craig said, grabbing him by the hair to pull his head back and stare back at him, “I’ve never been much into murder, but I’m fairly certain I’ll enjoying ripping you into pieces and mailing them to that walking bag of pus.”
“That would be a terrible idea, actually. I’m pretty sure Deadpool would make a shish-kebab out of you, and then everyone would be in trouble, which is pretty much the only reason you’re still alive. Also, rude.”
“Please, he wouldn’t start an all-out war to avenge the sloppy hole he’s been fucking”, Craig snorted. “You’re not worth that much, Parker, not to him at least.” His grin widened, unsettling. “However, there is some pretty cash to be made selling you, and I really need it.”

That didn’t sound good, like, at all. Peter was starting to fear he’d gotten into something a bit too big for himself.

“Let the hot-shot go, Craig”, Weasel said, and Peter heard the distinct sound of a rifle’s security being pulled.

His spider-sense buzzed a little harder, and he forced himself not to react.

“Or what?” Craig asked arrogantly.
“Or I’ll shoot you”, Weasel replied, his voice hard. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t do it.”
“You won’t do it”, Craig boasted. “You’re not one to get your hands dirty, you let Deadpool do your dirty work. Where’s the fag, by the way? Out on a job? Tsk, how… unwise.”
I get to insult his avocado-face”, Weasel sneered, “you, on the other hand, don’t. I will say it one last time: let. Peter. Go.”

Peter noticed everyone had evacuated the scene, clearly wary of being caught in a shoot-out, and not overly fond of ending up as a bet on the dead pool. It was only him, Weasel, Craig and his men.

“You’re a pussy, Weasel. That’s why Wade keeps on slapping you around. Stand up for yourself a bit, before I decide you’re not worth the trouble and crush you under my boot.”
“I warned you”, Weasel replied matter-of-factly, and Peter felt his spider-sense send a thrill of warning, making him duck instinctively.

Blood splattered all over his face, his hair and his back – whatever Weasel had shot, it was nasty. Peter heard Craig’s shocked gasp and looked up just enough to see the blood spreading on his chest, before he dropped dead. Everyone had fallen still around them, like time was suspended.

“Now, get out. All of you, or I won’t hesitate.”

The thugs scrambled out, dropping Peter who staggered a bit, too shocked to react. Weasel had shot at someone Wade hadn’t dared to kill, to save him. He had likely started a war in New-York, because he had thought he was saving Peter. He had, in a way. Peter very nearly threw up at the realization. He wobbled back and looked at Weasel, who looked a little bit sick himself.

“You killed him”, Peter breathed.
“You’re too goo a bartender to lose you like this”, Weasel replied. “Also, Wade would have my skin if I let anything happen to you, and I’m pretty sure your friend Spider-Man would be pissed with me too.”
“You killed him”, Peter repeated, his eyes wide. That hadn’t just happened.
“He was an asshole, I hated him, and its good riddance. I doubt anyone will cry about his fate”, Weasel replied, putting his gun down.
“You… It’ll be war.”
“You know why he’s been turning to prostitution lately? Because he’s losing ground. He didn’t have nearly as much power as he once did, but Wade can’t be bothered to check for that kind of thing. Also, if there’s a war, it’ll be good for business.”

Peter shot him a blank look, and Weasel sighed.

Weapons. And intelligence. I’m a merchant, Pete, that’s what I do.”

Peter stared back.

“You’re even worse than Wade.”
“I resent that. Look, I can handle it from here. You’re clearly shaken, so go home and let me deal with this mess.”

Peter looked down at Craig’s body, blood already pooling around him, and he shuddered. There was nothing he could do here, and… well, Weasel was right. His nerves had been rattled by the experience. Not only because Craig was now dead, but also because even though he had experienced sexual harassment when he was younger, he had expected that to abate as he grew older. He’d been proven wrong, and he didn’t know what to do with himself, because a not-so-small part of him was relieved to see him dead. To know the threat was gone.

On autopilot, he grabbed his things and made his way out, having completely forgotten the blood on his face and shirt. Wade wasn’t here, and he didn’t know what to do. He looked up and realized, frozen, that his feet had taken him to the only place he’d called home lately. He stepped back, ready to retreat, when the door opened.

“Peter? What are you- Oh my god”, she gasped, “is that blood? Come in”, she ushered him inside.

Peter stared at the iron grip Mary-Jane had on his arm, at the threshold he hadn’t crossed in months. She was still just as beautiful, and he felt something in him break.

“MJ?” he whispered. “He’s dead. He’s dead and it’s my fault.”

He looked down at his hands, stained with red, stained with blood, and trembling. What the hell was he doing?

Chapter Text

~~ WADE ~~

Wade had succumbed to sleep the moment his head had hit the pillow in the dingy motel room he’d rented in San Fran. So, pulling two all-nighters was a bad idea. He woke up with a migraine that thankfully abated after a much needed too hot shower and three cups of coffee so black and disgusting it might as well have been tar. Realistically, there had been no need for him to travel this fast, but… well, three weeks away from Peter? He wasn’t sure he could handle it, and Peter would probably realize, with his absence, that Wade wasn’t anyone he wanted to spend time with.

He was halfway to the third murder scene, though he doubted he would find anything there, just like he hadn’t at the previous ones, when Weasel called. The call ended before he could pick it up, his phone stuck in one of his pouches, only to ring again, and then a third time when he fumbled with it and missed his chance answering. By this time, his heart was beating fast: Weasel wasn’t the kind to call like this unless it was important. Something had happened, something bad.

“Weasel?”
“So, uhm. I think I fucked up? I’m pretty sure I fucked up. It’s not as bad as it could have been, but it’s still kinda bad.”

[This is what if feels like when you rant? Damn, you really should stop.]
{CAN’T HE CUT STRAIGHT TO THE POINT?}
[There’s nothing straight about him.]

Weasel”, Wade repeated, his voice low and dark, clearly losing patience. “What did you do?”
“I unalived fucking Craig is what happened”, Weasel replied, near hysterical.

Wade sucked in a breath. Trust Weasel to surprise him.

“You what? What the fuck, Weas?”
“He was making a pass at Parker and it was really going south and then he said ‘you won’t do it’!”
“He WHAT?”

Wade nearly crushed his phone in his hand and forced himself to relax his grip.

“Yeah I know, the nerve! Of course I was gonna do it!”
“Not that, dipshit!” Wade growled. “He fucking dared to touch Peter?”
“Got a few hits in before I intervened”, Weasel replied. “I don’t think it’ll be an all-out war but it’s still gearing up to be pretty bad. Also I have a corpse in my bar now. Again. Except this time I put it here. Well, not anymore because I got rid of it, but still.”
“I don’t give a shit about your alleged moral qualms”, Wade bellowed, “where is Peter?”
“I sent him home”, Weasel replied, “he was white as sheet.”
“I go away for one fucking day-”
“Dude, you left almost a week ago”, Weasel pointed out.
“- and you manage to traumatize the sweetest person in the universe?!”
“Hey! It was that or letting Craig take him away and sell him for whatever disgusting purpose of his! You’d rather your precious babycakes was forcefully working the street right now?!”

This time, Wade did crush the phone. He looked in dismay at the destroyed electronics, trying to calm down. He wasn’t anywhere near New York, and Peter was fine. He was Spidey, he could take a couple of hits from a thug.

{What the hell are you talking about? Preventing sexual assault and being the one threatened are two very different things, as you remember very well.}
[That, and he didn’t act out to protect his identity, but he could have, meaning he’s likely blaming himself for the death of Craig. Not that the slimeball didn’t deserve it, but we all know how Spidey feels about killing, especially to save him.]

He managed to retrieve his SIM card intact and slid it into another phone – an old thing he would need to change ASAP, since it was meant to be a burner phone and not his personal one ¬– before he called Peter.

“Baby Boy?”
“This is Mary-Jane speaking”, a soft, feminine voice replied. “Peter is unavailable at the moment. May I help you?”

[Mary-Jane. His ex-wife. Why is his ex-wife answering his phone?]
{KILL THE BITCH, SHE’LL HURT HIM AGAIN}

“MJ!” Wade replied with faux-cheer. “What a pleasure! I need to talk to Peter.”
“Listen, I saw your registered name”, Mary-Jane replied. “I assume ‘Daddypool’ stands for Deadpool. Peter told me about you, and about-” She paused. “- about what happened at the bar. So I’m guessing you’re calling about that.”

[Shit. She’s very calm, isn’t she?]
{No wonder Peter fell for her. I would too.}
[Didn’t you want to kill her?]
{I can’t do both?}
[No, you can’t do both.]

“Peter has told you an awful lot”, Wade replied, his voice going low and dark.
“He was kind of a mess when he arrived. It was difficult to get a coherent story out of him, but I managed to piece everything back together.” She paused again. “He’s… shaken, but he’s sleeping right now. And the bruises are already healing.”
“You… don’t seem too troubled.”

She let out a long suffering sigh.

“I’ve known Peter basically my whole life. I’ve shared his daily life for twelve years and seen him… in ways I never would have wanted to see him.” There was a silence. “And I’ve learnt something. No matter what he suffers physically, it’ll never do as much as an emotional blow, and what happened to that bar… That was the equivalent of a kick to the crotch. He hadn’t broken down like this since we were teens, and I can’t-” She gulped audibly, swallowing back tears. “I’m not enough to put him back together. I don’t know if I’ve ever been. I don’t know if anyone can be. But right now, it’s not me he needs. It’s you.”

Wade… well, Wade didn’t know what to answer to that.

“I’m on the other side of the country”, he replied.

{We can’t leave him when he needs us.}
[What about the corpses?]
{It can wait. Spidey needs us. Peter needs us.}

Wade took a deep breath, staring at his map with each corpse represented as a red cross before he let his hand fall.

“I’m taking the first fly back to New York”, he replied.
“Thank you”, Mary-Jane replied. “I’ll text you my address.”

{There’s no need for that, we already know where she lives.}
[Yeah and that’s enough to be creepy. Don’t say a thing.]

“Thank you.”

She disconnected the call, and he looked at the streets around him.

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He turned and looked at the guy standing there. He had shaggy brown hair, brown eyes squinted with concern, and a large leather jacket hanging on a too-thin form, like he’d once been bulky enough and hadn’t eaten his fill in a few months. He wore army fatigue too big on him, and those looked like they had belonged to someone taller and broader, closer to Wade’s bulk.

“I’m fine”, he replied.
“You let this fall”, the guy said, handing him out the map. “You’re investigating the murders too?”
“None of your business”, Wade snapped, turning on his heels and marching away as he went back to ‘his’ car to get his old, barely working computer from there to get a plane ticket.

[That was rude. Also, he might have had intel.]
I don’t care.
{Peter is all that matters, blast all the others.}
[I have a bad feeling about this. We should have listened to the weird hobo. After all, Spider-Man is a hobo too.]
I don’t CARE.

Even with the ticket bought, he had a few hours to kill, and a stash of weapons to hide, since the car would likely have been reported as stolen by now – like the previous six, because who knew the road between San Fran and NYC could wreck a car like that? Not him – and if he let it out like that, he had to put his weapons elsewhere. So he rented a box, shoved everything inside, and made his way to the airport, abandoning the dark green sedan in the middle of the parking, with the keys on the contact.

He hit the ground in New York fourteen hours and thirty-six minutes after getting Weasel’s call, and he could already tell there was something big in the air. It was a feeling, a shiver creeping up his spine and settling in his bones: there would be more blood spilled, mixed with gunpowder and the tangy taste of a metallic blade, and for once, it wasn’t his fault. He took a cab to the address MJ had texted him, not knowing what to expect and fiddling with his guns so much he made the driver extra nervous – he left a big tip for that one, poor guy hadn’t deserved that scare.

The house was nicely suburban, the typical American household, with the white picket fence and everything. He half-expected small Spideys to run out in the garden, with shocks of red-hair like their mother’s.

[You know they never had kids.]
I know.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and knocked on the door.