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Marco
Spider-Man made him smile.
The sewer stank like wet rats and molding socks. Water rushed through the tunnel beside him and its roar reminded him of the Hulk building up to a temper tantrum. It drowned out the sound of Deadpool’s steps. He had to shout to hear himself over it. Even all the fun little commentary seemed small in here. “Marco!”
The water also drowned out Spider-Man’s response, because that was the only reason Spider-Man wasn’t answering. Spider-Man was fine. It wasn’t like some Spider-Man couldn’t answer. Deadpool just couldn’t hear him, that was all.
Spider-Man made him smile. Spider-Man ate tacos with him, which was really funny, because Spider-Man still refused to take off his mask. He just took off enough to eat his taco. Spider-Man liked to eat tacos. He liked to eat tacos with Deadpool, which was awesome, because most people just tried to break the shells and stab Deadpool with them. Could someone die by taco?
…he would think about dying later. He would talk about it later with Spidey, and about how on that one show that guy died over a hundred times and one of them was death by taco. Spidey would like that.
“Marco!” Deadpool shouted, and all he heard was the rush of water. He had passed the Lizard earlier. Spider-Man grew antsy -- spidery? Would it be considered spidery? -- when Deadpool killed anyone or anything in New York, and Deadpool usually only killed when he was getting paid for it, but he also killed when someone annoyed him. The Lizard had really annoyed him. So did the prison that was supposed to keep the Lizard in. How many times had the Lizard escaped? This time he had come out bigger and tougher than ever, tough anyone to drag Spidey into the sewers and hurt him.
Well, the Lizard wouldn’t hurt Spider-Man again.
He thought he heard shouting behind him, but that was just the Avengers. Spider-Man wasn’t one of them, and Deadpool would prefer it if Spider-Man joined up with him, but he thought if Spider-Man would join anyone, the Avengers were good. They had Cap and Thor. They would help him keep an eye on Spidey’s tight ass, and he would get a chance to meet Cap and Thor when he visited Spidey.
He just had to find Spidey first.
“Marco, baby boy!”
No answer but he saw a bloody handprint on the wall. Deadpool started jogging. “Marco!“
“…polo?”
Deadpool broke into a run. “First name of explorer corpse!” he shouted.
There was no laughter in the responding call. “Polo.”
Deadpool ran faster.
Most of Spider-Man’s body was still in the water, but his impressive fingertips held him above the surface. His cheek rested against the damp cement. Deadpool couldn’t tell if Spidey’s eyes were open or closed, and he hated the other man’s mask then. He usually found it neat and all the more reason they were obviously soul mates, but right then he couldn’t see if Spidey’s eyes were open or closed, and that was not good. When he reached down to drag Spider-Man out of the water, he saw the various shreds in Spider-Man’s uniform from the Lizard’s claws. The current streamed over Spider-Man’s wounds, washing out the blood. The cement around Spider-Man was a faded red.
“Hey, Spidey, hey, baby boy,” Deadpool crooned. He tried to pick Spider-Man up, but he couldn’t move Spider-Man’s fingers from the cement. “Come on, baby boy. We have victory tacos calling our name. The one with the beans, not like the defeat tacos, the ones with the sour cream.”
Spider-Man groaned but let go. Deadpool hauled him out of the water, and Spidey was too limp. He was supposed to be kicking Deadpool across the sewer because Deadpool grabbed him by the ass to pick him up. It wasn’t as much fun when Spider-Man wasn’t playing hard to get.
“Victory tacos,” he repeated, and Spider-Man didn’t protest when Deadpool carried him bridal style to where the Avengers were. There was supposed to be blushing that Deadpool could feel through Spidey’s mask and flailing and cursing that Spidey rarely did around Captain America, like a soldier like Cap had never heard someone curse before. Maybe Cap hadn’t? Maybe Cap was kept on a pedestal surrounded by golden virgins when he wasn’t in battle, you know, before the whole frozen for seventy years thing. The guy lived with Tony Stark, though; Deadpool wanted to get into a mouth-off with Tony Stark.
He told that to Spidey and told him that he wasn’t providing much of a challenge to a mouth-off right now and started listing reasons why Spidey’s Yo-Mama jokes always fell flat, but it wasn’t fun when Spidey wasn’t saying anything back.
It wasn’t fun with Spidey just lying quietly in his arms and bleeding.
“Come on, Spidey,” Deadpool coaxed. “Come on.”
No answer.
He heard the Avengers shouting, and he knew the Avengers could fix Spidey. They could make everything okay.
Because suddenly Deadpool didn’t know what he would do if Spidey died in his arms protecting a city that didn’t protect him. He didn’t know what he would do, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.
“Come on, Spidey,” he said, and Spidey didn’t answer.