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When Peter was fifteen he was bitten by a radioactive spider… blah blah blah… we all know the story. He got spider abilities like cool setules that stick him to walls, spinnerets that create spider webs (which he very quickly recreated and improved upon with web shooters because he was so sick of plummeting towards the busy streets when a web broke), he got spidey-senses so he could tell when danger was near, his brain completely short-circuited and fucked him over, he got super strength…. Wait… His brain did what?? That’s not how this goes…
Peter sat in class, his leg bounced up and down, his head was in his hands as he took deep breaths in, and then out. Ten more minutes. Then he would be able to go and sit in a corner and attract as little attention as possible to himself. “ Uh oh! ” He called out, slamming his fist down on the table. The teacher, god (or whoever's up there? Down? Around? Wherever they are in this universe) bless her, didn’t pause her lesson or even so much as glance at Peter. Flash, on the other hand, snickered to his buddies, he leaned over to whisper something in one of their ears.
“Mr. Thomson!” She snapped, her eyes locking onto the group of troublemakers sitting in the other back corner of the room. “I would appreciate it-” Peter let out another “ Uh oh —” His neck twitching back as his hand hovered in the air for a second before slamming back down on the desk, she, yet again, disregarded this. “-If you would either share with the class your groundbreaking discovery on special relativity that you were so eager to share with your friends, or kindly stop interrupting my lecture.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Sanchez. I don’t understand how my very quiet comment to my friend is any more distracting than Parker's blatant attention-seeking over there.”
Mrs Sanchez’s face went dark as she stalked over to his desk, whiteboard pen in hand. “ Hello there —” Peter called out from his seat, followed by multiple aggressive blinks as he nodded his head.
“I am sorry that you cannot understand after every member of the faculty of this school and many members of the student body have explained this to you. Mr Parker has a neurological disorder, while you, Mr Thomson, are being rude and disrespectful.” Flash opened his mouth to protest but was quickly shut up. “No, to the office. Now.”
“It’s really not that big of a deal, Mrs.” Peter tried to protest, “Really I’m used to it.”
“No. This is final.” She pointed to the door, “And I want you in here at lunch for study hall.” Flash shot Peter a glare as he stalked from the room and Peter’s stomach sank.
That afternoon he dragged himself into his bed, body aching and bruised. Flash had been harsher than normal, not even stopping when Peter was on the ground in a ball. He only stopped when a cop car a few streets over sounded, he bolted, and so did Peter, he hated having to explain.
After high school it was easier, Peter felt more comfortable in his own body. He could deal with stares at his jerky movements or strange noises. He had a job, and for as much of a dick JJJ was, he wasn’t an ableist dick and let Peter do what Peter needed to do as long as the work was done. Peter was too valuable to fire over something as trivial as that. There was a lack of snickers behind his back and a lack of snide comments in class and Peter was a lot happier.
“So, Spidey,” Deadpool plopped down beside him. Peter liked the guy, for as crude and pushy as he was, something about him drew Peter in. “If you sit with me for more than five minutes, I’ll buy you a burrito.”
Peter sighed. He’d not had much money from his photos this week and a burrito sounded a hell of a lot better than the instant noodles in his cupboard. He could suppress tics for five minutes. He could be a normal guy with Deadpool, get the burrito, eat as fast as possible, and go home. “Bribery gets you everywhere, Pool.”
Deadpool made a squeal, his mask’s eyes scrunching in happiness. Peter chuckled. “I really didn’t expect that to work, I mean you’re so fucking slippery to talk to. Though I’m sure he could be slippery in other places. No. Shut up Yellow. Ew. Not like- oh god, that’s horrifying.”
Peter sat, listening to Deadpool as he immediately got distracted talking to himself. “I’m a busy guy. Plus I don’t tend to like to let too much about me slip. I’m a private guy.”
“There’s a difference between private and altogether closed off, baby boy.” Deadpool got back on track, swivelling to look at Peter, sitting crossed-leg on the side of the building. Peter wished he would turn back so he could let a few motor tics out and not look weird trying to write them off. “It’s like you’re uncomfortable being around people. At first, I thought it was just me, but I’ve seen you with the Avengers, you’re not very close with any of them, are you?”
“Like I said, I don’t like socialising. I might let something slip by accident, and I don’t want my identity found.”
Deadpool narrowed his eyes before shrugging, “Eh, I’ll find out soon enough. So, what was the last movie you watched? I need recommendations.”
Peter hesitated at the rapid change of pace. “Well I watched Independence Day recently, it was actually so bad that I didn’t bother rewinding it when I fell asleep at the end.”
“Fuck, yeah that’s a bad one. Almost as bad as 2012, You see that one?”
“Yeah, god, so bad. But something about them makes them so entertaining.”
“Something about bad movies makes them so good. You seen The Gay Deceivers?”
Peter shook his head, “Is that the one with the ‘I may not know my flowers, but I know a bitch when I see one’ quote?”
Deadpool laughed, “Yes!” Peter couldn’t help but chuckle with him. “I got Spidey to cuss! I am a god!” He cheered.
“Oh shut up, I was quoting something.”
“Rating this fucking Mature for language, and maybe something else later if the writer is feeling nice.” (I’m not ;P (get cockblocked)) Deadpool winked at nothing before turning back to Peter, “But yea, bad movie but also aged surprisingly well for a movie about queer people made in 1969.”
Peter hummed, “Lots of bad queer media, what was that movie that came out in 2020? The Prom? I mean really, it made me feel the opposite of pride for most of it because I didn’t want to watch James Cordan portray yet another gay character like he’s some kind of queer icon. Don’t associate me with that. Just call me a slur instead of casting him, please. It’s pointless queerbaiting 'cause it doesn’t work.”
“Wow, you’re worked up about this.” Deadpool grinned, “And did I catch that you were gay in that ramble? Score! Yes, I knew you were right, I just needed to hear him say it.”
Peter froze. Fuck. “Don’t tell.” He stood up, “Please.”
“There was a surprising lack of denying in that. I’m not going to out you, Spidey, that’s such a dick move. If it’s any help I am also very gay. Like pansexual amounts of gay.”
“Cool, yeah, thanks. Uh, I’m going to get going because this is what I mean.” Peter moved to the web away. A moment before he could swing to safety where he could properly panic and not be seen, a hand grabbed his wrist.
“I’m sorry, Spidey. At least let me get you a burrito, no talking needed.” Deadpool resembled something akin to a kicked puppy. Fuck, Peter couldn’t say no.
“Fine, only if you promise to look away while we eat.” Peter agreed, “No talking.”
So that became their routine. Each night Deadpool would show up with food, and the two would sit facing away from each other while they ate, Peter could let his neck jerk and hands move all he wanted, only having to mask half the tics. It was easier. Eventually, they started to talk again. Peter stopped feeling like Deadpool was a stranger.
“And so I was telling Ellie that she could not spend three hundred dollars on a dress when she had no event to wear it at.” Deadpool was talking about his daughter again. There was always a new story about her whenever Deadpool had her for the weekend.
“I think that dress costs more than I spend on food in a month.” Peter laughs.
“Only because you have a sugar daddy, Spidey.”
“Eww. I told you not to call it that, it makes it sound worse. I’d love to pay you back but last time I did I found the money in my suit pocket, which how did you find those first of all, and second of all how did I not notice.”
Deadpool chuckled, “Your spidey senses trust me too much, baby boy. Stopped working ages ago and I noticed because I startled you when I landed.” Deadpool hummed happily, “You trust me~” He sing-songed. The humming continued, Peter let him have it, he did trust him. Stupidly or not. He was a mercenary after all, but Peter had been keeping tabs on his profile and the body count (not that kind, the murder kind) hadn’t gone up since they started eating together. The peaceful moment lingered, it was nice. Then Deadpool started whistling.
Peter’s eyes widened and before he could even attempt to suppress anything he called out, “ Oh fuck off —” Followed very rapidly by “ Nuh-uh — hey — listen ” and then a few whistles. His head jerked back and his hand reached up, hitting the side of his head a few times. Deadpool fell silent. He stared at Peter for a moment. He had that look on his face where Peter could tell that the boxes were going crazy in his mind. “Uh-” Peter started dumbly. He didn’t know how to tell him. It was so much easier as Peter. There was no expectation, no persona that he upheld, if people thought he was strange, they should’ve seen it sooner with the math pun on his shirt or pins on his bag. He could be a dork and not worry about the entirety of New York seeing it. “I’m sorry.” His head jerked to the side. Fuck he was stressing. He whistled a few times, the palm of his hand hitting his head again. “ Haap — How unfortunate —fuck, Deadpool I’ll explain when I’m not— I don’t think you’re —I’ll explain later.” Peter shot out a web, pulling away as fast as he could. It was stupid to swing while on the verge of a tic attack but like hell he was going to do this in front of Deadpool.
The second he got inside his window and slammed it shut, he yanked off his mask and fell onto his bed. The vocal tics got louder and faster, and his hands pounded into his head as his body spasmed. In moments between tics, he constructed a little nest on his bed, stopping his limbs from hitting the walls. He yanked off the web shooters, the tics every so often shooting soft spider silk at the walls and pillows beside him. When the tics finally died down, his body felt heavy but empty. He let himself drift, not fully feeling present in his own body. God, he hated this.
When Peter woke up, he ached, his mind was slightly foggy, and he had to fucking explain to Deadpool. He looked around, his walls were covered in webbing, the copious amounts of pillows around him lined his walls, a few lay on the other side of the room, kicked or thrown off. He groaned, flopping back on his bed and staring at the ceiling.
Peter ate a meagre breakfast of an apple and the first energy drink his hand found, as he made his way to his only lecture of the day. His tics were slow, thankfully. His half-eaten apple was sent flying into a bush on his way and he sighed, picking it from the branches and chucking it into a nearby bin.
On the subway he hid in the corner, trying to attract as little attention, his headphones pulled over his ears to try to spare his sensitive ears from some of the noise, his backpack pressed against the wall of the subway as he rode to his stop.
“Hey, you have a minute?” Someone asked him. Before Peter could tell him he wasn’t interested, he turned to see a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking at him, a hint of shyness in them. The man was tall and built like an athlete. His skin had what seemed to be burn scars, though Peter didn’t know enough about medicine to be able to tell the difference. “I have a meeting with a professor and I think I need to get off here, but I’m not sure where to go on campus.” Peter raised his eyebrows.
“Uh, yeah. The campus is this next stop.” He stuttered out, his head twitched to the side a few times, “— oh fuck off —sorry about that. I have-”
“Tourettes?” The man offered kindly.
Peter smiled and nodded, “Yeah, actually.”
“I have a friend who has it, did a bit of research about it when I found out.” The man explained, “I’m Wade, by the way.” He held his hand out for Peter to shake.
“Peter.” He took it, a tic squeezing it momentarily before he released it. “I can show you where you need to go on campus if you’d like. I have some time.”
Peter was in a better mood after that. He swung to patrol after class, only when he landed on his normal meeting spot did dread sink in his stomach. He wasn’t nerdy Peter Parker who could write off weirdness with the rest of the geek vibes he gave off. He was Spider-Man, he had to be confident and protect others, and he had to hide every single thing wrong with him.
“Spidey!” Deadpool’s voice made him jump, letting out a whistle. “I missed ya’ last night. Went home without a kiss goodnight, couldn’t sleep a wink.”
“You’ve never gotten a kiss goodnight.”
“Let a man dream, Spidey.” Peter was silent. “Okay, we’re gonna get this over with because I can tell that this bothers you a hell of a lot more than you’re letting on. And you’re letting on a lot.” Deadpool put his hands on his hips, watching as Peter stiffened in front of him. “Do you want me to ask about last night? Or do you want me to forget it ever happened? With all the cancer in here, I’m quite good at writing things off.” Deadpool waved towards his head.
“I don’t really know how to explain.”
“Explain what? Tourettes?” There was another silence. “Spidey, I am probably the craziest person you will ever meet, if you think a little bit of mental disability is going to deter me, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? You did nothing wrong.”
“I hid this, and then it blew up, which makes— hey —it seem like I— nope nope nope —only— you’re gay —” Peter took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing mind, his hands had started to hit his hips as he stood. “One sec.”
“Take your time, darling.” When Peter didn’t calm down after a minute, Deadpool took a tentative step forward, “Hey, it’s all good.” He placed a gentle hand on Peter’s arm, “You want me to leave for a second?”
“No— nuh-uh —” Peter grabbed Deapool’s wrist, holding it tight. Deadpool stood quietly, waiting for the tics to die down. “I’m sorry. I hid all of this so well and now-”
“Spidey, if you apologise one more time I think I will need to find a volcano and throw you into it, and trust me, not a fun experience.” Deadpool crossed his arms, “Explain.”
Peter took a breath, calming his tics. “I have Tourettes and I hid it because I’m Spider-Man and I don’t want people to know that there’s something wrong with me.”
“Okay. Stupid reason to hide it, but okay.” Wade’ didn’t change his expression.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s it?”
“I mean what else does it have to be?”
“I-” Peter paused, “I don’t know..”
“Cool!” Wade grinned before spouting into an unrelated conversation about some movie trailer he’d seen. Peter smiled and sat beside him, feeling oddly comfortable not having to worry.
Peter saw the man the next day, Wade, he’d found out his name when he’d insisted on getting Peter’s number. Peter had obliged, who was he to say no to the stupidly attractive man.
“Peter!” He greeted, giving him a toothy grin. “I wanted to say thanks for yesterday.”
“Oh don’t worry about it.” Peter chuckled a small, “— uh oh —” added to the end.
“Lemme buy you a coffee.” He offered, Peter smiled and nodded.
“That’d be nice, thank you.”
“So you study biochem?” Wade asked as the two walked across campus, coffees in hand.
“Yeah, I’ve always— oh fuck off —been super interested in it.”
Wade nodded, “I’ve never really been a science guy myself.”
Peter shook his head, “Shame.” He handed his coffee to Wade to prevent himself from throwing it. Wade took it and held it for a moment, letting Peter take it back when he was sure it wouldn’t become a projectile.
“I do like sci-fi though. Gotta love a good shitty space movie.”
“Oh my god- yeah!” Peter chucked, “I was actually planning on— uh oh —watching— How unfortunate — a movie tonight if you wanted to come over.”
“That’d be great!” Wade perked up, “I can bring some snacks if you'd like.”
“Yeah!” Peter grinned, “You want to do— haap — nuh-uh — hey! Listen! —dinner too.”
Wade narrowed his eyes at Peter, “Yeah we can do dinner.”
Peter looked at Wade with wide eyes, “What— I think you’re gay —” His head jerked and Wade narrowly grabbed the coffee before it was thrown.
“Spidey?” Peter froze mid step. “Oh my god I’m right!” Wade gasped.
“Wh-How-Who?” Peter gawked, “Deadpool?!”
Wade grinned, “Oh my god this is amazing, you’re a hot twink and you’re like an absolute dork!! You’re so cute.”
“Shut up!” Peter was blushing profusely. “How did you know?!— go fuck off —”
Wade giggled, waiting for Peter to stop twitching his head back to talk. “Your tics, they’re the same. I mean how many twinks in Queens have Zelda and FNAF refernces as tics?”
Peter dragged his hands over his face with a groan, “I actually hate you.”
“You still up for movie night?” Wade asked, handing Peter’s coffee back.
“Only if it’s a date.”
“How many dates until second base?”
“— Nope —Three.”
“Sweet, I’ve got, what like four hours for two dates, nine is a good time to start movie night, right?”
“You, sir, are ridiculous.”
“Ooh! Sir! I like that one.”
“Oh shut up.” Peter rolled his eyes.
“Make me.” Peter full on laughed at that before grabbing Wade by the collar and pressing a kiss directly on his lips. His eyes widened in shock for a split second before wrapping an arm around Peter and pulling him closer.