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Controlling Chaos

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“Hey Spidey, give us a kiss!”

Spider-Man whirled around as a gravelly voice called from behind him in the alley. There in the gloom, a large masked man in a red spandex costume hung upside down in an awkward imitation of Spider-Man’s own classic dangling from a web strand pose. Instead of a strand of web, however, the man was gripping a rope that was tied off somewhere high above. His mask was rolled up to reveal his mouth but not the rest of his face. The visible part was covered in scars and looked hideous. He had a pair of katana blades strapped to his back, several pouches attached to his belt, and a few guns holstered along his chest and thighs.

“Deadpool,” Spider-Man announced as he crossed his arms, displeased.

He had heard plenty of things about the mercenary, and none of them good, and the few times he’d tangled with Deadpool in the past were not pleasant memories. He would have been quite happy never to see the self-proclaimed “merc with the mouth” again. So much for Spider-Man’s hopes of a quiet weekend.

“Come on, Spidey,” Deadpool continued. “You have any idea how many books we’ll sell like this? The fangirls will go apeshit for it! C’mon, it’ll be over before you know it.”

While Spider-Man didn’t understand everything Deadpool was saying, the parts he did get he didn’t want to. Deadpool was taking the whole “flirting” thing he did to the next insistently uncomfortable level.

“This isn’t happening,” Spider-Man stated in a flat tone.

“If it helps, you can pretend I’m Wolverine.” Deadpool seemed to be wiggling his brows suggestively under his mask. “Without as much hair. Or the claws. Unless you’re into the claws. If you’re into the claws, I can get claws.”

Spider-Man raised his left hand up to his head, tapping his fingers gently against his forehead to ward off his oncoming headache. In a slightly pained voice he begged, “Please stop talking.”

He knew Deadpool was just messing with him---just spouting out crap to rile him up. It’s what he did, to friend and foe alike. As Deadpool continued to babble, his commentary getting increasingly repugnant, Spider-Man knew he had to do something to put a stop to this obnoxious joke. Though, what should he do? That was the universal question to all things Deadpool related to which Spider-Man had yet to find an answer. Ignoring him sometimes worked, but then sometimes Deadpool would just keep escalating to get a reaction. Engaging him slightly could work, but it then it could also encourage him to keep going. It was a complicated balancing act to know which way to go--Deadpool's thought processes were more tangled then any web that Spider-Man had ever created.

Well, if Deadpool was going to copy him, he could take a play from the Merc with the Mouth by doing something unexpected and possibly a tad crude. Deadpool made lewd jokes because he knew it made other people uncomfortable. It was time to turn the tables and call him on it.

In a quick motion, he raised up his mask past his mouth as he moved towards the mercenary. Before his nerve left him, Spider-Man reached out his arms and roughly pulled Deadpool’s head towards his own, bringing their mouths together.


Deadpool jolted from the unexpected development. ‘He’s kissing us,’ Deadpool thought.
He’s kissing us!
OMG, he really is!
‘This is actually kinda nice.’
We haven’t been kissed in how long?
Kiss him back already!


The light kiss Spider-Man had intended, one just long enough to mess with Deadpool but not long enough to mean anything, did not turn out as planned. He felt Deadpool startle at the first touch, and held on a moment longer to get his point across. But as he started to pull away, he found Deadpool was kissing him back.

Deadpool’s lips were chapped, his mouth tasted of Mexican spices with a garbage disposal aftertaste, and he didn’t smell very good, but damn he was actually a really good kisser, even upside down.

Time passed without Spider-Man being aware of it. He was brought back to his senses with the abrupt conclusion of the kiss as Deadpool landed heavily at his feet.

“Ouch,” Deadpool laughed, though there was real pain to his voice. “Went to touch you and forgot my hands were being used to hold onto the rope. Next time, you can tie me up—it’s ok, I’m into that too—and you’re much better at it.”

Spider-Man looked down in a bit of a daze. That did not just happen. He did not just make out with Deadpool. Spider-Man involuntarily brought his hand to his lips. Damn it. He pulled his mask down again, feeling his face flush. It was official. He hadn’t gotten any in so long that he was now desperate to the point of temporary insanity.

“So what was it? Pretending I was Wolverine?”

Now Spider-Man was mortified and pissed off. He punched Deadpool in the jaw, forgetting to hold his strength in check. Deadpool tumbled head over foot down the alleyway.


Deadpool watched, limbs in a heap and his jaw unset, as Spider-Man took off.
You totally blew it.
“What? What did I say?”
And we didn’t even get a chance to ask him about what we came here to ask about
Fuck. Now we have to find him again.