The moonlight shined through the night, casting little light compared to the streetlamps and lights of New York. The rooftop was barely lit, the only light coming from the glare of the car headlights moving sluggishly on the road below.
Spider-Man was perched on the ledge just out of sight if anyone was to look up at the rooftop, a brown bag stained with grease to the left of him, contents unknown. It wasn’t an unknown sight to see Spidey perched on rooftops alone, but what was unknown was the red clad figure bounding towards him, shouting enthusiastically.
Peter turned around, shoving his mask up so his features were visible but it could be pulled back down at a moment’s notice. “Glad you made it, Wade,” He smiled dopily, and Wade plopped down beside him. “Wouldn’t miss our dates for the world, baby boy!”
“This isn’t a date. Dates are in fancy restaurants where the menu costs more than my apartment, not sharing tacos on a rooftop that smells like piss,” Peter unravelled the bag, pulling out their usual order. Peter, used to this routine, unzipped the small hidden zippers on his wrist so grease wouldn’t soak into his gloves. The first time he had ever hung out with Wade, he had kept himself fully hidden- only lifting his mask to his nose to inhale a burrito and pulling it back down. His hands had smelled like grease and salsa for weeks afterwards.
“Is that you telling me you want me to take you to a fancy restaurant and buy you dinner?”
“No. The food is too fancy for my tastes. Much prefer cheap street tacos,” Peter picked up a taco, and within a moment it was gone. Patrols left him hungry, and between his constant low bank account numbers and grocery prices rising every week he didn’t have the money to buy anything sufficient. He could barely look at a ramen packet now, having had to survive solely off of them for a couple months.
The two conversed idly while they ate, the bag of food being demolished quickly.
Peter had just scrunched the back up and was fixing his gloves when the familiar pang of his spidey-sense filled his head, alerting him of something happening a couple buildings away. As if on cue, a gunshot rang out, as well as a shout.
“Coming?” Before Wade could even blink Peter was standing up with his mask covering his face, and Wade coped him, albeit a bit slower. “Do I get the premium ride?”
“No. Last one there has to buy dinner next time,” Peter shot a web and followed quickly after it, the momentum putting him yards in front of Wade. he dropped down without another noise.
Three men turned to look at him as he landed, two of them holding a gun while the other brandished a knife as defence. He was bleeding from the leg.
“Hey, I recognise you guys! Average criminal one and average criminal two, right?” He shot webs at the guns, ripping them from the men’s grasps and webbing them to the floor. “I don’t know why you guys even try anymore. It’s so easy to take you guys down,” Peter dodged a sloppy punch, webbing the man’s hands together and kicking him at the wall, where he webbed him once again. The other criminal ran at him, and Peter jumped, landing behind the man and repeating the same movement as before, ending in him being stuck right next to his partner.
Deadpool rounded the corner just as he did, panting dramatically. “I can’t believe you would make me walk five buildings, baby boy. I’m never working with you again.”
“I’d like to see you try. Are you alright?” Peter said the last part to the man, helping him up. “Your leg looks pretty bad. You probably need medical attention.”
The man looked at him, far from the terrified state he’d been in before. Peter’s spidey-sense panged painfully, and he ducked out of the way just as the knife the man was holding aimed straight for his throat.
As if on cue, the doors in the alley sprang open and criminals poured out, instantly surrounding the hero.
“Man, I just love traps.” Peter said sarcastically, tapping his webshooter and releasing a thick stream of web. It exploded midway, spraying the dozen or so men with webs that instantly latched onto them and rendered them immobile. While they were subdued slightly, Peter took the chance to web the weapons that had fallen out of their grips sturdily onto the floor.
He heard a bullet go off, but his spidey-sense didn’t alert him so he knew it was just Deadpool. “No-”
“-killing, Deadpool, I know,” Deadpool fired another rubber bullet at a criminal that had unstuck the webs and was heading for them. It hit his knees, and the man keeled over instantly. “I only have rubber.”
The doors swung open once again and more men joined the others, and both Wade and Peter leapt into action. Peter giving qups here and there, Wade laughing at them even if they sucked and Peter thought he could do better.
Within a short time the gang were all either unconscious, webbed to a wall or unable to get up due to broken knees and and feet.
(Deadpool crowed gleefully as a bullet flew into a guy’s crotch, causing him to instantly pass out from pain.)
“That was surprisingly easy,” Peter dusted his hands, tapping the knuckles of his right hand on his webshooter. “Usually when that many guys come out I walk away with at least a couple of stabs.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve never had your friendly neighbourhood Deadpool with you, hey?” Wade was polishing his katana that somehow was bloody despite not being used in the fight with a blue washcloth he pulled out of nowhere.
“The last time you fought with me I had a knife sticking out of my shoulder.” Peter reminded, rolling the same shoulder he had mentioned.
“Yeah, well, I deflected all the bullets away from you this time, baby boy,” Wade hummed as he cleaned, and Peter shook his head.
“You didn’t deflect them. You caught them with your body,”
“I really wish you wouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way like this.” Peter walked on the wall next to Wade, crouching on it and watching as he polished the blade until it shone. He sheathed it, and then pulled out the other.
“I can afford to be shot. You can’t.”
“That isn’t true! Do you know how many times I’ve been shot?” Peter demanded, before cutting himself off and taking a breath. “You can’t afford to be shot. Just because they wouldn’t do the same to you that they do to me doesn’t mean that you should be taking them just to protect me.”
“You shouldn’t even care about this, Sweetums. Bullets feel like a tickle at this point.” Wade sheathed his other katana, and stood up off the wall he was leaning against.
“I just don’t like seeing you like this,” Peter stayed on the wall, just inching up so he was Wade’s height again. He gestured to Wade’s bloodstained body, and to the bullet holes that were knitting themselves back together as he watched, leaving pink skin beneath the torn suit.
He dropped down from the wall, landing unsteadily on his feet. “Look, Wade, I-”
“Peter?” Wade was staring at him, expression hidden behind the mask.
Peter? Wade never, ever, ever, called him Peter. It was always Petey, or baby boy, or some other cheesy nickname. Never Peter. Had he said the wrong thing? Was he pushing too much?
“What?” Peter was trembling, his arms shaking without his consent. He pushed them against his sides, writing it off as anxiety, and the action caused him to lurch forward with sudden dizziness, where Wade caught him almost expectantly.
He looked down to see blood coating Wade’s arms and hands, blood that looked too wet and red to be old. Wade lowered him to the floor where he leaned against the wall, eyes widening at the red that was slowly spreading throughout the white spider on his chest, too big to be from a minor injury he didn’t have to worry about.
Wade wasn’t talking, and that scared Peter more than the bullet hole in his chest. “Wade?”
He pressed on his chest with both hands to stop the bleeding and swallowed a cry of pain, the wound starting to emit pain now that Peter had finally noticed it. Wade had pulled out his work phone, a small little flip phone with aged Spider-Man stickers stuck to the back, and was typing furiously.
“You’re really on your phone at a time like this?” Peter joked, but it came out dry. He’d been shot. Shot. in the chest. And was slowly bleeding out, his vision getting dimmer by the second. He leaned his head back and laughed breathily, hands slipping from their position on his chest. “I can’t believe this is how I die.”
“You’re not dying.” Wade said also instantly, pulling Peter’s hands back to where they were and pressing down. The pressure made Peter choke out a gasp of pain, his mouth tasting like blood. “I called Stark. He’s on his way.”
“Are you kidding!” Peter gasped, the words barely leaving his mouth before was enveloped in coughs. Wade pulled his mask off before placing his hand back on Peter’s chest. “I hate going to the tower.”
“You don’t go to hospitals, so this is your only choice, baby boy.”
Peter smiled at the pet name, ignoring the way his body was turning numb.
“I have to tell you something.”
“No.” the reply was instantaneous, and it made Peter blink slowly in surprise.
“I’m not going to let you confess because you think you’re not making it out alive, alright? Because you are, and you’re only thinking like this because you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“The tower is too far away, I’ll never make it-” Wade pressed on his chest a little too hard and Peter audibly cried out in the middle of his sentence, tears springing to his eyes.
“Don’t say that type of bullshit. You’re going to stay alive, and if you don’t I’ll drag you away from Death herself.”
Peter smiled softly, similar to the one he had worn at the beginning of the night. The moon was high in the sky now, stars twinkling overhead.
“Will you just listen to me once, Wade?” He breathed, and the stars he was looking up at began to fade, his vision slowly faltering.
Wade was silent, before nodding slightly.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I love it when you buy me food. I love it when you show me places you see,” Peter started, head resting against the wall as he looked at the sky. He was too weak to move, just talking and hoping Wade was listening. “I love it when you text me sixty times in a second even if I tell you you’re annoying. I love it when you bring me a coat to wear on patrol when it’s snowing. I love it when you visit me at work even though I tell you you’re not allowed to be there,” Peter laughed breathily. “I.. I love…” He tried to make his mouth move, panic finally settling into his bones. This was it.
The last thing he heard before the view above him disappeared was the clunk of metal landing on concrete.