Honestly, it isn’t until the moment Deadpool does something completely idiotic that reminds Peter why he doesn’t hang out with the guy very often. Looking down from his sitting position on the rooftop, Peter unconcernedly gazed upon the crippled body below him.
“... I told you not to sneak up on me when I’m on patrol. My spidey sense may alert me to danger but it doesn’t usually react to a certain pervy immortal.”
Peter wasn’t being completely honest. When it comes to Deadpool his spidey sense did more of a skyrocket and then a numbing feeling right before the merc reaches his eyesight. The shock always leaves him a bit breathless, and a little trigger happy. Hench Deadpools current occupation as the asphalts doormat. The only time his spidey sense did something of this extent was the first time Peter met Deadpool, years ago. Despite his easy going attitude, Peter is actually getting worried about his malfunctioning spidey sense. Not to say that he completely relies on his spidey sense in the first place. The superpower is really just an enhanced paranoid voice in his head. His neighbor’s unfriendly cat gives him a slight tingly feeling whereas a massive alien wheel in the sky makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
So the superpower really helps Peter in a fight, but in his everyday life? A real anxiety inducer.
Yet in the past couple of weeks Deadpool’s presence has been messing with his spidey sense in a way that he hasn’t experienced before, and Peter really doesn’t know what to do about it.
Slowly peeling himself off the ground, Deadpool groans, “I’m sorry baby boy, I completely forgot! I was just so excited to bring you some churros from this new taco truck I found! That’s a really nice kick you got there by the way, I totally didn’t see it coming.”
Peter thankfully didn’t have to stifle his grin behind his mask, and of course he couldn’t stay mad at the merc for long. “Well then what are you waiting for? Come on up!” Deadpool quickly found his way back on the rooftop and the odd couple both rolled up their masks a bit so that they could munch on the churros as they looked upon the city's’ lights.
“Hey, so why does your spidey sense not pick up on me? Just asking in case some other pervy immortal decides he wants a piece of your fine ass,” Deadpool says with a wink.
Peter took a large bite of the churro in order to give his mind an idea of how to evade the question, and gave Deadpool a little shrug. “Beats me, but I doubt I could handle two of you.”
Deadpool widely grinned at Peter and with fast reflexes reached out to wipe off some sugar from around Peter’s lips before the hero could swat away his hand. “Oh come on baby boy, I think you can handle me far more than you’d like to admit.”
Maybe it was the low tone Deadpool spoke with when he said that, different from his usually cheery voice, or the feeling of Deadpool’s thumb being that close to his lips that left Peter feeling tingly and a bit flustered. Peter could feel his cheeks heating up and tried to change the subject before his affection could be noticed. But of course Deadpool noticed. He always does. Peter doesn’t even know why Deadpool’s touchy nature affects him so much after all of this time.
No, he actually does know why.
After months of being on the receiving end of Deadpool’s lack of personal space and remarks about his ass, he should really be conditioned to throwing the guy halfway across Manhattan by now. Peter could feel Deadpool’s eyes on his masked face and he knew that this was going to lead to something… and Peter’s witty words won’t be able to hide his true feelings. Before Deadpool could say anything, Peter leapt up to his feet and stretched out his joints. Thankfully the sound of sirens and police cars racing through the streets in the distance gave Peter the exact change of subject he needed.
“Karen, you got any info on that?”
“It looks like there has been a break-in at a bank on Canal Street.”
Peter glanced over at Deadpool, “Duty calls, you coming with?”
Deadpool quickly got to his feet, “Nowhere else I’d rather be than with you baby boy, you think you can give me a ride?”
Peter let out a laugh, “Oh yeah of course, hop on loser we’re gonna go kick some ass!” Deadpool laughed in response and grasped Peter’s shoulders, pressing his body up against the hero. Peter distracted himself from the feeling, and held Deadpool’s waist tightly to begin his descent to the ground.
⧫ ⧫ ⧫
It turns out stopping a robbery is easier to do when you have a crazy Hello Kitty gun wielding merc on your side. Seriously, where did that even come from. The whole thing took about fifteen minutes, including Peter’s artistic decision to web the criminals together in a T pose. To elaborate, Peter webbed the guys so that they faced each other, touching noses in a sort of non-consensual eskimo kiss, as their arms were webbed together and then connected to the ceiling so that they held the perfect angle for the T pose. Deadpool teared up a bit at the sight and called it a nice allusion to banksy. Of course that made absolutely no sense and Peter told Deadpool as such, only for the guy to give Peter a shrug and say, “Come on Spidey, you know I hardly ever make sense,” and yeah Peter knows. So when Peter is back at his humble apartment, laying in bed, looking up at the glow in the dark stars he recently put on the ceiling, he decided to finally be honest with himself.
Come on, say it.
He drums his fingers against his ribs, creating a pattern where each finger presses down on whatever rib it can find.
It’s not that big of a deal. Holding it in only makes it worse. You get anxious, dizzy with your own thoughts. You already know what’s going on, you can sense it.
Peter began counting how long it takes for him to inhale, and then how long his exhales can hold out. Getting longer each time.
Your senses. They make sense. Deadpool makes sense.
Peter’s fingers twitched, messing up the already absurd pattern he had going on.
Come on Petey, you know I hardly ever make sense.
Peter wished that’s what he said. He wished it could be that easy, just two guys flirting. Normal, casual flirting maybe taking place in a coffee shop or a school hallway. But that’s not Spider-man, and that’s not Deadpool, and maybe deep down Peter knows he likes it like this, the freeing feeling he gets when it’s just Deadpool and Peter on a rooftop. Deadpool clinging to his neck, his large hands taking up the space in between his shoulder blades. His legs wrapping around his waist. His really, nicely toned legs.
Hey! You know if you focus on Deadpool’s impressive muscles you’re gonna get side-tracked… and you are gonna have a different problem to deal with which would so ruin the moment when you finally tell yourself the truth. So come on Peter just admit it.
Peter closed his eyes and whispered what he already knows is true.
“I’m in love with Deadpool.”
Faster than Peter could blink, his body jerked into a sitting position as he heaved out his breaths.
“What. The. Fuck. I’m in love with Deadpool. In love? Really?”
Peter thought about how Deadpool looked the first time he saw him, when he was only sixteen years old. His body moved in a fluid motion, as if the split-second his feet hit the ground, they were off again to kick the shit out of the next guy’s groin. His muscles rippled underneath the leather and Peter could feel the heat of his purely murderous intent from across the room. Of course all of the blood and gore should cloud over some of Peter’s arousal for the man but Peter would like to believe that it was his teenage hormones that got the best of him. Yet now it’s a little different. Peter thought back to Deadpool’s face today as the man swept at Peter’s lips. He thought about how when Deadpool spoke to him, it seemed like the usual fond and cheery voice held a little more weight to it, as if it wasn’t just pointless flirting. As if Deadpool had a change of heart too.
No, no, yes, I am in love with Deadpool.”
⧫ ⧫ ⧫
The first time Peter met Deadpool, it definitely wasn’t in the most romantic setting and most certainly was not the moment Peter fell in love with the guy. In fact, it’s safe to say that Peter was completely pissed off at the dude for getting in the way of his mission and then going so far as to impose their… creative differences on the men Peter was tracking down.
Some of Toomes lackies seemed to have hidden a few of the alien weapons before the government swept through their warehouse, and Peter was currently tracking their van as they were heading down to an abandoned warehouse on the port-side of New York.
“Karen, how much longer until we are at the warehouse? I’ve got a chemistry test in the morning and the last thing I need is to die from the anxiety of failing in my best subject.”
“We have discussed your grades in the past, Peter, and I can assure you that in order for you to fail in chemistry you would have to make a maximum of five percent on the next test, and we will be at the warehouse in three minutes.”
Peter shot a web at the next building and swung around the building to take a right as the van did the same. “You know what I mean Karen,” Peter said with a huff.
As they got closer to the port Peter ditched the van to clamber on top of the seemingly empty warehouse. The roof’s glass windows gave Peter the exact bird’s eye view to look into the warehouse as the five men from the van walked in with a large black duffle bag to meet up with their customer. The customer in question was wearing a stereotypical long black trench coat with a wide-brimmed black fedora on his head, completely covering Peter’s view of the man’s face. A fedora? Ugh, that is so gross. I really won’t mind busting this guy after this I mean really, even as a disguise that is just a horrible choice. Before Peter could comment more on the man, his spidey sense skyrocketed so fast Peter could feel his heart skip a beat. With a gasp he clutched as his chest and tried to calm his breathing. "Karen what was that? This man is giving me super dangerous vibes."
"My radars are not picking up anything unusual about the man in question."
It's fine, don't lose focus. Peter began cranking open the window in order to catch what the men were saying. One of Toomes lackies placed the duffle bag on the floor and said to the man, “Hello Mr. Wang, thank you for meeting with us in this inconvenient location, we are trying not to take any risks at the moment, I’m sure you can understand.” The man in question chuckled and said, “Of course, I get it, with that menace Spider-man swinging around in his adorable little spandex suit, which just accents his pert little ass in all of the right ways, it’s hard for men like us to move around comfortably.”
Peter had just started webbing onto the wall when he froze at the mention of his name. Adorable? Pert little ass? Yeah this guy is definitely on my shit list.
“Uh… yeah I’m with you on that one. So here’s the options we currently have, and we will have more along the way as soon as we get set back up.” The guy was about to reach into the bag, and so Peter readied his webbers to snatch the bag when the fedora man interrupted him. “Hey, I just have one problem, you got my name wrong.”
“Yeah, my name is Mr. Whatsupdog.”
“... What’s up dog?”
The man let out a dark chuckle, “Oh nothing much, I’m just going to serve your asses on a silver platter to Hell, and then steal all of your beautiful weapons! What’s up with you?”
Everything went to shit after that. As the guy did this dramatic reveal of throwing off his disguise and pulling out two katanas to reveal his leather red and black suit, and the lackies scrambled to grab the weapons they had on them, Peter swung down from the ceiling and snatched the duffle bag with ease.
“Wow. You know, I can’t believe you guys didn’t see that coming! I mean, the dude was wearing a fedora! You can’t ever trust a guy in a fedora, like, my friend once tried wearing one to a party and I swear I almost left him on the spot.” Technically that wasn’t true, Ned did have a fedora on and Peter really was about to leave him on the spot before he took the safer route and just told him that he looked like a twat. Of course as Peter is musing over this Toomes’ previous men began firing at him, and the katana guy was nowhere in Peter’s sight.
Peter quickly evaded the bullets and webbed the duffel bag to the corner of the ceiling, then he swung down to the men and efficiently just started webbing their guns up. The first two guys once having their weapons snatched rounded up on Peter. Both decided to brilliantly swing at the hero at the same time so Peter merely jumped up and knocked their heads together. The next guy was a little more tactical and went for Peter from behind, swiping Peter’s legs out from under him. Peter took the momentum and flipped off the ground, then he launched himself at the guy feet first, kicking him upside the head. Peter was just about to finish webbing up the last two men when he saw a flash of blue light in the corner of his eye. Seconds later he suddenly found himself getting blasted across the room, landing hard into the steel wall.
Groaning Peter could taste blood in his mouth and his body felt like… it just got thrown into a steel wall. Looking up, he saw that the leather-clad man had somehow gotten a hold of the alien weapons inside of the black duffle bag, and looking further up he saw the torn webs floating from the ceiling.
“Heya Spidey! Sorry I had to cut your vigilante act short, as much as I love watching you kick ass with your kicking ass I really need to pay the rent soon and these puppies sure will help!” With a little laugh he patted the weapon he just used to blast Peter across the room.
Peter struggled to get up as he said, “Listen I can’t let you do that, those weapons can do some serious damage and a lot of people could get hurt.”
The man squealed and excitedly pumped his fist, “Oh man! Does this mean I get to fight Spider-man? Yes, we definitely have to fight I wouldn’t miss this chance in the world-”
At that exact moment Peter kicked off the wall and landed a hit right at the man’s head, just as he calculated.
What he didn’t expect was for the guy to grab his leg as he stumbled from the hit, which in turn led to Peter having to swing his left leg around the guy’s shoulder in order to avoid hanging upside down. Using his position, Peter wrapped his leg fully around the man’s neck and started squeezing, holding the man’s head in one hand and reaching for the alien gun with the other, but before he could grasp it the man pulled some WWE move and threw himself back first to the ground, crushing Peter and making him lose his grip on the man’s neck. Peter’s head bounced off the concrete in a very concerning way, and the black splotches dancing across his vision could attest to that. Karen’s voice chimed through Peter’s head saying something about a minor concussion. Peter moaned and just before he could move, the leather-clad man pinned Peter down. Upon closer inspection Peter could notice the small details in the man’s suit. He had sort of panda styled eye slots, with black diamonds surrounding small white holes. The stoic look of the eye slots made Peter shiver, as if he could feel the man’s intent through his mask.
“Thank you very much Webs, it has always been a dream of mine to get caught between your thighs, but this needs to end soon.” What started off as a seemingly harmless joke turned cold as the man’s voice got lower at the end. Peter has never had a problem with the criminals he encounters after Toomes, but this was different. It felt like the man was on a different plane, as if his mind worked on a different wavelength than everyone else. With that being said he ripped off one of Peter’s web shooters.
“I’ll be needing this, bondage is kinda my thing,” and even with his mask on Peter knew with absolute certainty that he winked. Somehow he really knows his way with web shooters, and in minutes he had Peter’s arms and legs webbed to the ground. After efficiently strapping Peter down, the man strutted over to the webbed criminals, pulling out his katanas. With each step it felt like the man was getting more dangerous, darker, and Peter frantically tugged at the webs, but his mind felt muddled and he could barely move his head off the ground. He knew it was desperate but he needed to do something.
“Wait! Stop! You can’t kill them!”
The man let out a single laugh and shouted out without looking back, “Sorry sweetheart but it’s part of the job! These guys are complete shitheads and I might need to do some damage before letting them take the highway to Hell.”
That’s when Peter saw what the man was truly like, with each movement it looked like he had every intention to bring the men as much pain as he possibly could before shooting them point blank in the head. When it was all said and done, he hoisted the duffle bag up on his shoulder and slowly walked over to Peter.
“... Who are you?” Even if it was the last thing Peter ever said he just had to know.
The man crouched over Peter’s still form, grasped his face and kissed Peter on the cheek, and even though they were both wearing masks Peter could still feel the heat radiating off of the killer’s lips.
“The name’s Deadpool, and I’m sure our paths are gonna cross soon enough, sweetheart.”