Chapter Text
(We should go back and find that dude, he was hot.)
“Yeah, but that’s weird and creepy. I’m weird. Not creepy.”
[Oh, come on! Tell him the boxes sent you, then it won't be weird!]
“Uh-huh. Yeah. Like I’m gonna go up to this kid I met once and admit to him that the voices in my head think he’s hot. You’re delusional.” He rolled his eyes.
(We’re delusional? Who has voices in their head again? Oh yeah, you.)
[BUUUURNN!!]
Bang!
Bang! Bang!
“Oh? Gunshots?”
Wade smiled and skipped toward the noise, whistling along the way. Seeing a red and blue blob fly past him as he went.
"Shit-"
Peter mumbled, he'd missed the guy and ended up grabbing some trash instead of his gun. Speaking of guns, he heard one go off behind him, but his spidey sense didn't alert him of the danger. He tried to dodge the bullet, before realizing it wasn't aimed at him. It whizzed past him and landed right in someone's leg. He fell, dropping his gun. Peter quickly picked it up. Suddenly he remembered there was someone behind him, and spun on his heels, webbing up the mystery man.
"Woah calm down hot stuff! I'm not here for you,"
It was Deadpool, someone Peter has been warned about more times than he can count. He noticed Peter staring and smiled, and for some reason, it was visible through the mask.
"What are you doing here?"
He asked, walking towards the person who was getting mugged. Checking for wounds and asking about their wellbeing before letting them go. Deadpool kept smiling though,
"I came to help!"
Pete wasn't having it.
"I could've handled it by myself, y'know."
He was acting calm while pulling him out of the web.
"I've been doing this for years."
Deadpool shrugged,
"I wanted to shoot someone anyway, this week has been boring,"
Peter noted how animated he was. His mask moved with his face underneath, and his shoulders bouncing up and down.
"Anyways enough about me, what are you doing out here so late young man?"
He crossed his arms and tapped his foot, acting like a parent.
"Nothing important, and don't call me that."
He turned to walk away.
(Damn, that's a nice ass.)
"Shut up."
He told white. Spidey turning around,
"What?"
He didn't have the patience for this right now, he'd had a bad day.
"Sorry Spidey, wasn't talking to you!"
He grinned. Peter rolled his eyes, once again starting to walk away.
"Before you go,"
Deadpool called,
"Lemme get you a taco. Hm?"
Peter was stunned. A taco? But, he sighed and gave in.
"Yeah,"
He crossed his arms.
"Sure. Lead the way,"
Deadpool turned and started whistling, walking down the alley, making Peter nervous. Then he turned out. Nothing happened. Nothing happened? This dude doesn't seem so bad after all.
------boopity boop------
Wade was skipping, about a block from the taco place when peter finally broke the silence. Well, his silence. The boxes were chatting away and arguing about some inconsolable nonsense, trying to get Wade to pick a side.
“Where are we going?”
Peter asked, feeling a little uneasy as they were walking through a pretty dangerous part of the city. Wade pointed,
“Right there, Spidey! Taco Time!”
Peter thought he was just saying it was time for tacos, but no. It was actually called Taco Time. Hm.
Peter wasn't expecting to have that much fun, Wade was the one who went in and got the tacos, then they sat on the roof. They talked for hours, Peter learned every little detail about Wade that day. He learned his full name (Wade Winston Wilson), his age (26), and his favorite food (He couldn’t decide, so he went with Mexican as a whole). Then he told him about less important things, his favorite animal (unicorns), his favorite My Little Pony (Rarity), and his toothpaste (He uses the kid kind because he says the mint burns his tongue). During this, he happened to skip over two very important details about himself.
“Wait wait- voices? Daughter?”
Peter raised an eyebrow, mask only up to his nose. Not wanting to reveal who he was quite yet. Wade just looked up at him and nodded, a piece of shredded lettuce hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah I’ve got a kid. Eleanor. I call her Ellie. And the voices are no big deal, really.”
[No big deal? Fuck you.]
Wade laughed.
“So you- wait backtrack you have a kid? You’re in a relationship?”
Pete asked, finishing his taco. Wade shook his head,
“Nah, her mom’s dead. Lives with her gramma. I visit her a couple of times a week, and we hang out on the weekends.”
Wade explains.
“But enough about me, I wanna know things about you. Tell me about yourself.”
“Well,”
Peter thinks for a moment.
“I’m 25, I like fast food, and uh. I don't have a kid or voices in my head. And my parents and uncle are dead, so my aunt has raised me most of my life.”
Wade wiped an imaginary tear.
“Wow. You really have the whole superhero backstory, don’t you? Oh lemme guess! You watched your parents die?”
Peter chuckled, no longer affected by any of their deaths.
“Close, but not quite. Instead, it’s my uncle. And while I wasn’t quite there, I was the reason it happened.”
(Damn, tragic.)
[We’ve been through worse.]
(No, Wade has been through worse. We’re just a byproduct. Did you forget about that part?)
[.......yeah…]
Wade ignored them.
“Wow. That's, wow. Impressive.”
He then proceeded to tell Peter his whole life story.
“Oh shit-”
Peter whispered, checking the time.
“I gotta go, I have work tomorrow.”
Wade tilted his head.
“And what does Mr. Spidey do for a living?”
Peter chuckled.
“Nothing impressive, I work for the Daily Bugle. Photographer.”
Wade perked up,
“Show me some pictures!”
And to that Peter harshly declined. Telling him it would lead Wade back to his real identity and blah blah blah, to be fair, Wade wasn’t listening. Then before he knew it, they were exchanging goodbyes and Peter swung away. Heading for his small 1 bedroom apartment, hidden atop a bistro. The place was cozy, the air smelling vaguely of bread and beef as the T.V. sat still on. The news was playing, but now in its place was a silent screen of static. The couch sat cold, a blanket was thrown over the top. His room messy, his bed unmade. Even though it wasn’t perfect, it was his. Ripping his mask off once the door was shut, and breathing in a waft of fresh air. Slipping out of his suit and into clothes he plucked off his floor as he went to turn the tv off. Dressing his wounds before fixing his blankets and laying down to rest. Falling asleep faster than he ever had before.
On the other hand, Wade stayed out until about 5 am. Getting killed about 2 more times before calling it a night. His apartment was messy. Clothes strewn across every inch of carpet, the air thick from the heat of the summer. Different weapons were scattered across the floor, essentially deeming his place one huge booby trap. There were old suits and masks across tables and a serious lack of decor. But he didn’t mind, he was hardly home in the first place. When he walked through the door he immediately peeled the suit off of his body, and lounged around in the dark for another hour, wearing nothing but boxers and his mask. Eventually, he drew the curtains and plopped down into his bed. Well, his mattress. It just sat on the floor, covered in clothes and a couple of guns just like everything else in his house. But that’s beside the point. He let out a sigh and told the boxes to shut up,
(Very rudely, might I add.)
And went to sleep. Snoozing until the afternoon.