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Wade Wilson died the day Weapon X blew up.
Deadpool was born in the aftermath of suffering and bloodshed. Molded in the military and broken through torture. Shards of his brain were scattered, he was sure, even with his healing factor. If they weren’t, would he still be missing most of his childhood and hearing (seeing?) the boxes? Deadpool was born in the ashes of his undoing, after dying for the first time.
He had no emotions, his face (whole body, really) was fucked up, all he knew was death, both of himself and others. It wasn’t right. He was a freak. And maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate, he had emotions, however few they were. They consisted of rage, pain, bloodlust, and a sense of justice, all of which led to a lethally twisted morality.
Wade Wilson was gone and Deadpool didn’t think he’d feel anything other than murder-y ever again. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like how those– those monsters got to dictate how he felt for the rest of his life.
No, Deadpool would take his own life into his hands. He decides when he dies. He would have emotions, a lot of them, all of them. He would flirt like the end of the world because he was damn fine. Anyone who tried to take that from him died. That was the new guy.
That was Deadpool.
——————————————————————
Saying goodbye to Weasel instead of Vanessa was a good choice, it went a lot smoother with him than it would have been with her. Weasel doesn’t do all the sappy emotions, it makes the hard things a lot easier because ignoring and suppressing feelings was his go-to anyways.
Wade Wilson said goodbye to Weasel, but it was Deadpool that greeted him back.
He’d say that it went surprisingly well only in the way that things can ever be well with Weasel. By that, he means a fuck ton of jokes about his skin that Deadpool was happy to laugh along with and him helping Deadpool get a new job after finding him a new place and new materials. And to top it all off, Weasel was the one to come up with his new name. Deadpool doesn’t go by anything else anymore, the people who called him by his old name were threatened heavily with bodily harm, usually of the genitals, or simply by being cut off from the bar. Weasel was the best friend a mercenary could ask for, but he’d never say that and Weasel doesn’t want to hear it.
——————————————————————
Deadpool was worldwide baby! Sure, his Ex-Special Ops designation was enough of an attraction before, but even better than Special Ops with a nearly perfect success rate? Being unkillable with a 100% success rate! Turns out, he could charge people practically anything for his services now that it’s guaranteed to get done.
Deadpool was now practically rich, though no one would know it. He has dozens of safe houses in New York alone and they’re all pretty bottom-of-the-barrel shitty but he has only one nice condo that he pays for. He actually pays extra because he’s Deadpool and he’s bad for business. Also probably the noise complaints he generates when he’s home. It’s not like he’s there often though, he only really uses it to lay low or for a well-deserved break. And Bad Skin Days.
He learned very quickly that you pay for what you get in quality. The first month after was full of on and off pain and random sensitivity, but he endured it. Then the first Bad Skin Day happened. Clothes were unbearable when they caught on his scars and rubbed against the sensitive wounds that opened up as quickly as they healed. The air stung his skin and all he could do was hiss in pain and try to hold very still laying on his bed with horrible cotton sheets. He tried to take showers to ease the pain but the water was painful both hot and cold and even the shit water pressure was too hard. He didn’t even have a tub.
When the day was over and he eventually went back to the normal amount of background pain, he knew that wasn’t going to be a one-off thing. His life was never that easy.
His condo was the only nice place he owned, it just made sense to keep all his nice things there. He bought silk sheets and soft clothes, the most expensive and comfortable materials he could find. He had a huge bathroom full of every kind of skincare on the market and he renovated a little to add a huge tub with bath bombs and bath salts, even bubbles for when he needed some fun. They never really took the pain away but it was a lot better than that first day and he could live with that.
The condo was his favorite place now, his own little haven from the world.
But he always feels so empty when he’s there.
——————————————————————
So maybe being worldwide wasn’t always the blessing he thinks of it as. He’s super rich, has everything he could want whenever he wants it, and he’s actually kinda infamous in the underground world so he has his pick of any job he wants.
The downside is that he’s also a little famous above ground as well. Now see, normally he would like that too if it weren’t for the fact that now every super in New York tries to either kill him or convert him on sight. It was funny in the beginning, teasing them was a game he was happy to play, but after a while it just got annoying.
Looking at you Steel Dick and Iron Douche.
He avoided Tony Stank whenever possible because those blasters really stung and regenerating from them was a bitch. Colossus… He was a really big softie and easily flustered. Even if he went on another lecture of ‘killing bad, saving good’, Deadpool had a very active imagination and often found himself daydreaming of getting pounded by that huge metal dick or unicorns or riding that dick while riding a unicorn. When it was over he would tease the big man again, sometimes even telling him what he was daydreaming about in detail, seeing as the metal tinged just the slightest shade of pink and the man helplessly spluttered about young ears around every corner.
(Deadpool was always very careful to make sure there were no youngin’s around when he got explicit, but nobody needed to know that)
Being slightly famous was hard but so far he didn’t see the need to kill anyone over it, so it was fine.
——————————————————————
Deadpool wasn’t a good guy. He never claimed to be, didn’t really try either. That being said, he also wasn’t a bad guy. There was a distinct line between being an asshole and a bad guy and Deadpool saw it very clearly. Rapists are bad guys, human traffickers are bad guys, scientists who experiment on people without consent are bad guys, anyone who does anything wrong to a child is a bad guy.
Deadpool kills bad guys.
It wasn’t as complicated as the heroes like to make it out to be. Throwing them in jail doesn’t guarantee anything, Deadpool got rid of the bad guys so they couldn’t hurt any more people, for good.
So Deadpool wasn’t a good guy but he also wasn’t a bad guy. He may not feel a lot, but he has morals. He thinks that puts him solidly in the decent guy category.
He’s still an asshole though.
——————————————————————
He was fucked up. Everyone knew he was fucked up, but they didn’t really know how fucked up he truly was. Nobody ever saw how completely fucked up Deadpool was, people usually got a quarter of the way through his mess before they started avoiding him like the plague.
The boxes were as good a place as any to start. Classic voices in your head, a sure sign of being loony but common enough. Talking to the voices usually pushed away all the scaredy cats within the first few minutes. A good divider between Karen assholes and just regular assholes. Regular assholes understand that mental health is something serious and not all mentally ill people are dangerous. Of course, Deadpool is very dangerous, but he’d still like the people talking to him to be decent people as well.
Sure, voices are normal, but Deadpool can also see them. In boxes. Hence “The Boxes”.
[Shut up dumbass, they get it.]
White’s Mr. Serious over here. Grumpy all the time, never seen the box happy, and the biggest asshole of the Brady Bunch.
{But the Brady Bunch has 6 kids, there’s only 3 of us!}
[Do not count me in with you idiots.]
The cultured and excitable one is Yellow. Always cheerful even when it’s sickening and he pouts rather than grumps. He’s also an asshole but White is the reigning king of assholes.
[Oh gee, what’d I win with that title? Being stuck inside this fucking cramped head with two morons? Wow, thanks.]
They’re not so bad to have around most of the time, they keep him company whenever he’s alone and whenever they’re in a good mood the references are sick. The bad days are what few people see. When the boxes are ever in a particularly cruel mood they gang up on Deadpool, stab him where it hurts, it’s even more painful than Bad Skin Days. They take twisted pleasure in seeing their brain buddy’s misery.
Deadpool goes to a secluded place, a safe house at the least, and shoots himself in the head until the boxes can’t take the headache anymore. It can take an hour or it can take days. Deadpool wasn’t able to keep track of time then anyways, it all felt the same to him.
The boxes hurt him the most but he’s at his most dangerous during flashbacks. He gets sent back to a time he doesn’t want to remember, it feels so real, every slap, every cut. It’s impossible to tell it’s fake, how does he know his life wasn’t the thing that was fake? That’s what they always say…
And because he’s Deadpool he usually has a very Deadpool solution. Shoot, slash, fight until they’re all dead and they can’t hurt him anymore.
The real problem with that is Deadpool can’t go to a safe house every time. Sometimes he can feel it coming on or the boxes will give it away with their taunting and he can get somewhere away from people. Other times they just hit him. It’s unfortunate when they hit in public.
Afterwards, when he sees the destruction he’s caused, the people he killed that he doesn’t know if they are bad or good, Deadpool goes to a secluded place and shoots himself in the head until the boxes beg him to stop. And then he keeps going until he runs out of amo. And sometimes he keeps going with his swords or a rope or the full kitchen sink.
People can see what he does, but nobody knows how completely fucked up Deadpool is.
——————————————————————
Deadpool was absolutely lonely.
Nobody wanted to be around him and for a long time, he didn’t want to be around many people either. He’d hole up in his condo and put on some soft sweaters and sweatpants, watch Netflix, and eat some food he made himself. He was a wonderful chef, if he may say so himself.
But after a while, he got achy for human contact and risked going outside once again. Of course, he went to Weasel’s first. He’d given up trying to get drunk about two months into his own personal hell but who else could he stand that stands him back? Weasel standing him seemed to be untrue to outsiders but Deadpool knew him too well.
Weasel caring for someone was very different from normal people. Deadpool saw it in his eyes when he was saying goodbye during the whole el cancer phase. That silent concern hidden below callus words would have broken a lesser man, but being worse than Deadpool was pretty hard so he was on the verge of tears the entire time and Weasel pretended not to notice for his own sanity.
Deadpool can read people pretty easily, but certain people you just have to know and be around a while before you can read them as easily as everyone else. As it happens, Deadpool’s known Weasel for years and knows for a fact he’s his closest buddy. Deadpool notices the little things in his friend.
Like the fact that, despite all insults proving otherwise, Weasel has gotten used to his scars. He stopped puking when he saw his whole face (okay, it was like, once, but still) and he didn’t flinch when he rolled up his mask to eat or drink anymore. His eyes betray his careful mask, like most people’s do, and the revulsion that was there had gradually faded away.
He doesn’t feel a lot of positive things anymore but the acceptance of his friend usually pinged him a fleeting moment of happiness.
——————————————————————
The same acceptance cannot be found in many other people. There was still puke, there were screams, and occasionally there were cops even when he wasn’t in his suit.
Deadpool has needs. He doesn’t mean to come off like a douchey straight white guy, but he honestly has needs. He needs skin to skin contact. It doesn’t have to be sex, not even hugs, just holding his hand would be a miracle at this point.
He had never known what it truly meant to be touch starved until Weapon X had fucked him up. He thought being a lone mercenary was enough qualification but he hadn’t been deprived of skin then, he had sex with any woman he wanted (who wanted him) regularly. And then he’d had Vanessa. And now it’s hard enough to have people look at him, let alone touch him. Even the girls you pay are disgusted with him.
Sometimes he’d get lucky and one of them would be desperate enough for a break that pays to take his deal of no sex. He offered them a blindfold before any skin was shown and some took it, others just closed their eyes. They’d reluctantly let him take both their clothes off and they’d lie together skin to skin on some nice hotel bed in their underwear. He tried to make it as comfortable for them as possible because they deserve better in life and they certainly deserve better than his fugly skin, but he couldn’t help but be selfish sometimes and hold them tight even when he shudders through silent tears of relief.
It was nice but it would never be the same as a loving partner.
Not that he felt love anymore.
(Not that he deserves it.)
——————————————————————
Shield likes to talk all high and mighty but even they need help sometimes. And by help, he means they don’t want to get their hands dirty, so they hired people like Deadpool to do that work for them. He honestly didn’t mind, Shield paid well to keep him quiet, which was quite the feat.
The downside to working with Shield is that they’ve got him working with the hero types. Iron Maiden was his least favorite of the bunch.
{Now is a better time for the Brady Bunch reference!}
Sure is.
[Is that the only reference the Author can come up with?]
Shut up.
Anyways, the rest of the group isn’t that bad. The Jolly Green Giant is always a pleasure to see in action and with the assassins he felt a bit of understanding. They knew the scum that existed and they have no problem with getting rid of it like he does. And who doesn’t want to get a look at America’s Ass? [I thought we were ignoring that shit storm?] Though, Deadpool had admired the Captain since he was young so he would have been a pleasure to work with even with a flat ass.
(The ass certainly gave him more material for later though. Maybe he’d be able to smack it real quick one day.)
Even though most of the team thought he was a lunatic, which wasn’t technically wrong, most of it was him being dramatic for fun to see how they’d react. The results were usually what he predicted and often amusing. He kind of had to make his own fun since they ignored him otherwise. Or lectured him. Fortunately, the sexy dream opportunities were endless here even if they weren’t as funny as Colossus.
Another downside was the cleanup. Sure, the rest of the team didn’t bother because Shield was coming back to collect leftover data and evidence, but Deadpool always dragged up the rear because he had to pick up all of his mess. And by mess, he means any possible DNA evidence, which means he had to burn the whole place down because his blood was everywhere, and that means he became the one-man clean up for the whole team and collected all the leftover data.
The team might’ve thought he was being just a little more serious and thorough but Shield knew what he was doing, so that included the spider and birdman. Feather-head was more like him than he liked to think, willing to kill for the job, funny and immature, but hidden underneath was a sharp set of skills. He doesn’t know what they tell the team about his cleanup duty but everyone still treats him as more crazy than dangerous (or crazy dangerous more likely) so he figures they just don’t bother mentioning. Or they had some sort of mutual spy/assassin understanding!
Or Shield was doing the same to them as they were to Deadpool. He knows what the organization does, they have profiles on every individual they deem dangerous. His file was pretty much blank, he knew since he didn’t let them have his DNA and his old name was never mentioned after Deadpool was created so they couldn’t have done a background check. Shield knows everything about Deadpool, but they don’t know who he was before or any of his personal details and that pisses them off. (He knows because Fury always looks so furious when they talk. That could be annoyance too, though.)
Deadpool doesn’t care who knows what he does and will proudly claim any of his hits. Shield can keep as many tabs on him as they want, they won’t find anything Deadpool doesn’t want them to.
——————————————————————
Deadpool had settled into his role nicely after two years. The happy-go-lucky, insane, unkillable mercenary that he pretended to be was as easy to slip on as his suit’s mask.
When he was alone, it was also just as easy to slip off. He liked to do that mainly in his condo, it was least likely a Shield agent would pop up in this building. Deadpool had secured it, knew everyone who moves in and out of it and all the employees. It was the safest place and he knew he could relax there.
He could be as depressed as he wants there, lazy as fuck, or blessedly naked in the face of the summer heat. He knew a true safe zone was hard to come by in this world so he cherished every moment he spent in it.
——————————————————————
It was 4 years after Weapon X that he heard of a new super in town.
Spider-Man
{With an ass you bounce a quarter off of! *sigh*}
[And a moral compass that surpasses Capsicle. Also, stop sighing like that, it’s weird.]
{I’ll sigh all I want!}
[We don’t even have a mouth to sigh with…]
{Who cares? Not the readers.}
It was true though, the Itsy Bitsy Spider was wound even tighter than the Star-Spangled Banner and Deadpool didn’t think that was possible. It was a good idea to stay away from the fresh meat for now, he’d learn sooner or later how horrible people can be.
——————————————————————
As it turned out, Spidey would not in fact learn. Or perhaps he did, but there was no shift in the gossip chains about his morality. If anything, he seemed to grow more righteous with each year. And more famous.
The kid went on to save a local New York decathlon team (what even was that? They didn’t have those when he was in school, did they?) and then a ferry that was lasered in half with the help of Iron Dick and even went and saved the stuck up billionaire’s invisible jet! (Sad he didn’t wear a sexy leotard though, maybe Deadpool would have liked him more.)
All within a year!
Was that a thank you save or something? Or is he friends with that asshole? Probably not, but how can he seriously be that kind?!?
[Not everyone has loose morals and is an asshole like you]
{And he’s just that sweet! I swear I fall in love more each day!}
White had a point and Yellow was being his usual self, but Deadpool didn’t really see the appeal. Except for that ass that beats even Captain America. Now that was something he was impressed with.
——————————————————————-
He still didn’t see the appeal for another year. Somehow Yellow’s ramblings and appreciation got to him and he started conceding just to get him to shut up. Then he started actually paying attention.
It was cute, his naivety. How willing he was to throw himself in the way to save others from nature’s course of getting hit by a car. Stopping petty theft. It was humbling in a way Deadpool hadn’t felt in a long time, even way before Weapon X. Not since he was a child reading Captain America comics and wanting to be just like him. Not since he went into the army to serve a country he had just escaped to and saw war for the first time.
The little hero was… pure. A purity Deadpool lost when real life hit. When your father came home smelling like whisky or cheap beer or your mother came home with another ‘special’ friend and made loud noises that the tv couldn’t fully cover. When the sharp sting of a hand against your soft cheek stained it red. When you’re young with no money and nowhere to go and you’re desperate enough to listen to a stranger.
When you get weird superpowers, usually the government isn’t too far behind. But the spider wasn’t with Shield and he still had that air about him. Even after two years of cleaning up the streets, he still used as little force as necessary and called the cops when they were restrained safely and helped little old ladies with their groceries.
He must have seen the evil that roams the street by now, the bad guys that Deadpool got rid of.
And yet he’s still just as friendly as when he was in that adorable onesie.
——————————————————————
The next year Deadpool found himself watching the Spider closely. He jumped at every news update and was one of the first to join any and all Spider-Man related groups. His designated personal phone that he barely had any use for was now beeping constantly with Spidey sightings and pictures and fan theories.
The fondness he felt for the hero’s actions grew with every boss fight he faced and still came back home with the same kindness and forgiveness for the small-time criminals. Deadpool had never been like that, the people he got rid of were all too deep into their crimes to be saved. Spidey believed everyone could be saved.
[He wouldn’t think that anymore if he met us.]
{That’s why we stay away! Keep the kid innocent and sweet! We ruin everything and we can’t ruin him too!}
Deadpool couldn’t find it in himself to argue because it was probably true.
But Deadpool didn’t control fate.
{Nope! Only the Author does!}
And as fate would have it, Deadpool met Spider-Man one chilly night in fall after he had just completed a hit. Literally, the hit’s body was there on the blood-splattered concrete in the alleyway Deadpool had found him in and Spidey had just dropped in from the skies above like a gorgeous, badass angel.
[Can we skip this reference? It’s not even relevant at all.]
They could not, in fact, skip it and so it stayed. The angle, silent in its descent. Finally, he spoke up in a sweet voice Deadpool had never known he needed to hear.
“Um… Did you kill this man?”
Probably not the best way to meet, but Deadpool had worse.
“I don’t know, will I need my safeword if I do?”
The Spider seemed to be stunned momentarily, Deadpool had that effect on many, but he quickly recovered.
“Is that a yes?” His voice seemed a little strained, but not out of anger or annoyance like Deadpool was used to.
He figured the truth was the best way to go, it wasn’t like he’d be able to take him in, no matter how much he’s improved over the years.
“He was a ring leader for an underground dog fighting pit. Think of all the cute dogs! Safe and sound because the bad man is gone!”
Spider-Man shifted on his feet awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked up.
“I mean, I guess that’s good? But murder is also really bad so I kinda need to take you in…. Unless you promise to not do it again, then I think I could make an exception?”
It… was not something Deadpool expected. He honestly thought Spidey would flip and web him up and take him to the nearest police station. Did he really think even a murderer could be saved? That they deserve a second chance?
[Don’t get your hopes up, he doesn’t know we’ve killed way more than just one person.]
And that brought Deadpool back down to earth. Right. Of course he could make an exception for a one-time murderer of a very bad man who promised to never do it again. Deadpool was a mercenary, a mass murderer, his kill count was well into the triple digits. Spidey could never forgive that.
“That’s honestly really cute, thinking that a prison could hold me.”
He could see a slight shift in Spider-Man’s body as he tensed at the ominous words, no matter how cutesy Deadpool said them. He should give the poor kid a break, he knew he wasn’t ready for a fight against someone immortal.
“Tell you what sweet cheeks, I promise to try not to kill these scumbags in your area. You’re seen around Queens the most, right? Those your digs I’m guessing, so I’ll keep my business outta there if I can help it.”
It was genuinely one of the best deals Deadpool’s ever offered in terms of not murdering people. The only deal, in fact. But Webs just makes him want to be… nice? No, Deadpool is never nice. He wants to be more decent to the web-head. For some reason he’s got this hold on him, he was different from the rest of those stuck-up heroes.
Maybe Spidey could hear the sincerity in his voice or he could see the relaxed and non-threatening body language he purposefully shifted into. Either way, he was relieved to hear the little breathy sigh of defeat that meant there would be no fighting his, arguably, favorite hero.
“I- Okay. No more killing in my city please.”
“You got it darling!” Deadpool said cheerily, blowing a kiss in his direction afterward.
Spidey looked about ready to flee before he stopped and addressed Deadpool one more time.
“I’m really glad the dogs are safe, but he deserved a chance to change. Prison sucks but sometimes it helps people get their life together. I see a lot of people in situations they never wanted to be in but can’t get out of easily. I want to offer them help instead of harm.”
He sounded like maybe there was more he wanted to say but cut himself off, starting his goodbyes once again.
“Maybe I’ll see you around without any dead bodies… ?”
Something was swirling in his mind and it took a moment to realize it was Yellow having a freak out over what Spidey was saying.
“The name’s Deadpool, cutie, and I think you’ll be seeing a lot more of us.”
With that said and done, Deadpool turned and grabbed his mark and threw him over his shoulder. When he turned back there was no trace left of the Spider. Deadpool tried not to think too hard about the odd feelings that created and attributed it to Yellow’s feelings seeping over to him. Instead, he walked out the alley, in for a long walk to the nearest dump site to confirm his kill and get rid of the heavy body.
——————————————————————
Deadpool was intrigued by Spider-Man, which was saying something. He found a lot of things fascinating, would think it all the time, but none had lasted very long with his short attention span. This super though, he had Deadpool wanting more, thinking about him in all his spare moments.
How could he possibly think Deadpool was good at all? Did he really want to see him again or was he just being polite in an odd way? Why was Deadpool so interested in him?
None of those would be answered now though, he would have to find out later. At least, that’s what Weasel said in a not as nice way after Deadpool was done whining and bitching. “I can never catch a break,” the greasy man had grouched as he went off to serve another bar-goer. Deadpool didn’t take it personally, Weasel may hate him but he hated him a little less than he hated everyone else. Deadpool felt the same way.
They were best buddies at one point before all the shit hit the fan, nearly brothers even, but ever since Deadpool was created he had withdrawn from the man. It wasn’t Weasel’s fault, he was a good friend in the way only they knew, but Deadpool simply wasn’t as attached to things in life like he was before Weapon X and that included their weird bond. Weasel could sense it too, he could read Deadpool in body language and voice alone like Deadpool could read his eyes, he knew his friend was not the same.
He didn’t say anything about it though, not really, just as their odd friendship rules dictated. The knife held to his throat multiple times afterward also seemed to show him how serious Deadpool was and now he knew when to back down from certain topics, so Deadpool thought that turned out well.
That’s why it was so odd. With Spidey, it just felt so… different. Everything was new and weird to Deadpool. He didn’t know if he liked it or not and that was bugging him (ha!).
There was really only one way to find out.
——————————————————————
Hanging out with Spider-Man was… fun. Deadpool rarely had fun that didn’t involve maiming, torturing, or killing anymore, so it was refreshing in a way. It took awhile, but after a few weeks of Deadpool not killing, Spidey started relaxing a bit. His guard wasn’t down, he wasn’t that stupid, good, but he started to make more jokes in the time between catching criminals.
He was strangely lenient with Deadpool. The first time he pulled out a gun and shot a guy in the shoulder he had merely webbed the wound closed and tied up the criminal for the ambulance with a police escort. When they were done watching over the man there was silence until Spider-Man turned to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder, telling him he did good shooting in a non-lethal zone. He explained that he didn’t like violence, guns especially, because of his past and preferred to avoid injuring as much as possible but he understood that sometimes the perp won’t go down easily. The wondrous hero said he’d like it if Deadpool could switch to rubber bullets so he could shoot wherever he wanted or keep the real bullets to non-lethal zones.
Never had someone praised him for maiming instead of killing someone. Never had any of the other hero types been so kind and patient in their explanations. They always said he was bad when he didn’t listen and didn’t bother to comment when he did. Never had someone given him an option on what he’d rather do as Spidey had done so naturally.
Deadpool didn’t know what kind of emotions these were, but he could feel something shifting inside him. It wasn’t bad.
Deadpool bought rubber bullets. (He couldn’t resist a good headshot sometimes.)
——————————————————————
Deadpool had made the news. That wasn’t exactly unordinary, some of his targets were famous and others were just spectacular works of art, he still doesn’t know how Spidey had never heard of him. But this time was different.
This time, it wasn’t about him necessarily. It was about Spider-Man.
It wasn’t like Deadpool listened to the guy but he was channel hopping when he caught sight of a picture of him and Spidey in the middle of a fight and he just had to see what that was about. Turns out it was Triple J’s news station, Deadpool avoided it because the man was too heavily biased in every topic no matter how big or small. He also started avoiding it even more after he began bashing Spidey.
The report he was on just happened to be another anti-Spider-Man story. But this time, Deadpool was in it. Specifically, they were criticizing Spider-Man for working with him before they turned around and started saying that this was proof Spider-man was not good if he was affiliated with Deadpool.
By the time the news article was finished, Deadpool was thoroughly upset with the world and, deep down, where he liked to pretend didn’t exist, he was dejected. After this Spidey surely wouldn’t want him around anymore, lest he continued to ruin his reputation as a hero.
Deadpool didn’t want to be turned down so soon, so he stayed away from Spidey’s usual haunts for a week or two.
——————————————————————
Nobody was more surprised than Deadpool when he was greeted back from his two-week vacay with a smack upside the head from the arachnid (which would’ve ended up with anybody else’s head rolling off their shoulders) and a stern question of where he’d been, like he was upset Deadpool had stayed away. Deadpool was confused.
Instead of voicing this he just shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the well of odd emotions in his chest, and said, “Figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with me anymore Spidey. Wouldn’t want to tarnish that hero rep of yours with my ugly mug. You do watch the news, right? Pictures of us all over the place like we had our very own photo op! I never knew how sneaky photographers could be until now. They would get paid good money if they ever turned to paid stalking or intelligence. Mostly cuz a lot of mercs are stupid. Or lazy. Or both. I think it’s obvi what category I fall under.”
Spider-Man, to his credit, didn’t so much as blink at Deadpool’s rambles, having heard enough of them over the past few months. He’d gotten good at picking up the relevant information from the word vomit the Merc with the Mouth was known for. It was truly a testament to his patience.
“If I wanted you gone Red, I would have said it to your face. Don’t go missing like that without telling me. I almost thought you-” Spidey cut himself off then, surprising both Deadpool and himself it seems with the amount of emotion in that unfinished confession.
Deadpool himself wasn’t entirely unaffected either, as more feelings he couldn’t put a label on continued to mess around in his chest. Spidey didn’t need to finish that sentence and Deadpool didn’t want him to. It wasn’t true, he hadn’t, so there was no need to say it.
In the back of his head, he could hear White and his nasty words waiting to stab Deadpool where he knew it would hurt. But Yellow saved him, overpowering the shitty box and nearly screeching with unrestrained joy that Spidey had given them a nickname. Deadpool kind of wanted to screech himself. So he did.
Spider-Man and White (metaphorically for him at least) both covered their ears at the high pitch, not many men were capable of making such a noise.
“What was that for?!” The arachnid finally snapped, probably a little miffed his heart-to-heart moment was ruined, and was now incredibly annoyed like everyone else Deadpool interacted with. Though, Spidey was a lot nicer about it. Spider-Man was a lot nicer to him in general.
“You gave us a nickname! Spidey gave us a nickname! We’re finally there, best buddies! I’ve got so many I’ve been waiting to use Webs! Bubble Butt, Honey Cakes, Sugar Lump! You are just so adorable Baby Boy.” Deadpool purred the last nickname, which he was the most fond of. Bubble Butt was a close second though, that would be something frequent as well.
Spidey slumped, sighing heavily at Deadpool’s eccentricities. He groaned in annoyance and mumbled, “I knew I shouldn’t have said that.”
Deadpool surprised the grumpy arachnid with a bone-crushing bear hug, “You are so cute when you’re grumpy, baby boy!”
He was promptly pounded on where Spidey could reach and demanded to be let go but Deadpool held on for a few seconds more before letting the man think he’d won by grabbing his lower ribs in fake hurt. “You wound me so, Sweetness,” he whined.
Spider-Man huffed and said, “So are we patrolling or not?”
——————————————————————
As it turns out, a lot of people support Spider-Man and trust him with their lives. It shouldn’t be that surprising because he’s a vigilante but Deadpool’s been the subject of bad press his whole career, so when he caught Jameson’s story he had automatically assumed every other news station agreed. So people love and trust the web-head, but they also trust his decision-making skills and that means they trust Deadpool is going to help rather than hurt.
It’s so different from the rest of his life, every person he’s looked at was scared of him because they knew they were going to get hurt or die. It was like that in the military, it was like that as a mercenary, and after Weapon X it’s 24/7 whether he’s in the suit or not. People feared him. They didn’t trust him or appreciate him. They didn’t think he would help.
And yet.
And yet, just by being seen with Spider-Man, he’s suddenly appreciated. On patrols some people noticed him and it was already a big change because before he tried to stay as invisible as possible. The biggest change though, people are thanking him. He’s… never been thanked before. Not for this stuff. Deadpool had never expected it, the heroes sure didn’t give it to him, but here he was with random strangers he helped out and they thank him for his efforts. It wasn’t just Spidey anymore.
And Deadpool… he feels something. Something deep inside him is stretching, pushing around like it’s been long forgotten and the motions make him ache with disuse. He’s learned to stop questioning the feelings, they never turned out bad. Not when they came from Spidey.
And Weasel, he just tells him to stop waxing poetic about his crush. But, he’s got this glint in his eye that looks something like… relief? Because Weasel is Deadpool’s oldest friend, his bond brother, and when he went away he honestly thought he’d never see him again. And then the giant bastard walks back into his life with scars out the wazoo and all his inside trauma made outside. Weasel may be a jackass but that’s his friend, one of the only people with that title, and he hates feelings but that kind of damage…
Weasel knew the moment Deadpool started talking that Wade Wilson was gone. He was nowhere to be found under all the mental issues and the scars and the cancer. The day he came back was filled with more drinks than Weasel usually has, and that’s saying something. He made his peace with the knowledge that he was probably never going to see his friend again. Weasel accepted Deadpool as the shadow of his friend, filled with his memories and his morals but none of the feelings that he so despised.
But that right there, sitting at his bar and blabbing his mouth about the Holy Grail of people, that sounded, just a hint, like his friend.
And for the first time in years, Weasel let himself hope.
——————————————————————
It was nearly a year into their partnership when he said it. Deadpool couldn’t believe the words he just heard but the twin shocked silences from both boxes instead of their usual taunts made him think, just maybe, this was real.
Deadpool had thrown himself into the line of fire to save Spidey for the two dozenth time and that started an age-old disagreement between the two. He was dispensable, he could take the bullet and spit it out a minute later and have no marks in under five minutes. Spidey would take a week or so to heal and be out of commission for the rest of the night. It’s not hard math, and Deadpool was pretty sure he had failed math at some point in his life, so it’s kind of impressive for the genius that Spidey was to not be able to see it.
He was sitting and half-listening to the man, used to the lecture that he nearly knew by heart now, when there was a sudden disturbance in the routine. Spidey went off-script. Deadpool suddenly gave the arachnid his full, undivided attention, which was another feat.
Spider-man suddenly let out a frustrated sound that wasn’t quite a groan or a yell but a deformed, hybrid baby of the two, breaking the rhythm of his usual speech. It was a tired sound, yet so full of emotions Deadpool couldn’t translate. “You can’t- You can’t keep doing this to me!” Spidey said, starting to sound a hint hysterical.
Doing what?
“My whole life- This has happened my whole life, I can’t keep watching it over and over again!” His hands rose to his head like he wanted to grip hair but he couldn’t with the mask on, sounding like he was about to start hyperventilating. Or crying. Or both.
Deadpool was too stunned to move but he was able to get out a very quiet question of, “Watching what, baby boy?”
“Watching the people I care about get hurt, that’s what Deadpool!” And that was the first time that he had heard Spider-Man sound truly upset, angry even. It would have been hot if the man hadn’t been close to a breakdown.
But the implications suddenly hit him and it was impossible to think. It was easier to deny.
“Then stop caring Spidey, everyone else has. I have. It’s not that bad.” It was a weak offer, but Deadpool would do anything at that moment to make it stop sounding like tears were running down his face.
“I can’t stop caring! You’re my friend Red!” It came out as a tear-filled yell but all Deadpool heard was a record scratch, stopping the sad, depressing music.
He couldn’t have heard that right.
But Spider-Man doesn’t let him doubt for very long.
“You’re my friend and I care about you and I can’t keep seeing you get shot or die because it’s happened too many times! I- I can’t lose anyone else...” The hysteria had dwindled toward the end after his voice cracked and left it at a heart-wrenching whisper.
Deadpool was paralyzed. He had to have been, he couldn’t move any of his limbs and he wanted to move them to– to do something, anything, to make the young hero stop sounding like that! But he couldn’t move. And so he just stood there until Spidey came up and wrapped his arms around his waist tight, laying his head on his chest and sniffling.
“Please, please stop letting yourself get hurt so easily. Dodge, fight back, do something. Anything but nothing.” Spidey was pleading with him and suddenly something ripped just a little bit inside him and he could move again.
Deadpool wrapped his arms around Spidey, holding him like he was something delicate instead of an enhanced human corded with muscle that could break him in half. A hand moved to the top of the arachnid’s head and just held it there, stroking his thumb in circles over the spandex covered skull. The man didn’t move at all except to press closer and that tiny little pin-sized hole inside himself doubled in size.
“Okay…” was whispered in the night, so silent that Deadpool almost doubted the spider heard him until he hummed contentedly and felt like he was breathing easier.
The feelings weren’t bad. He supposed they could stay.
——————————————————————
It took a lot of digging. A lot. But Weasel had found it. It was locked up tighter than Fort Knox but Weasel still proved himself a skilled informant by somehow, by some miracle, managing to pry this out of some dark little hole.
He punched in the number and the landline rang as the call was connected to the burner phone.
“Who is this and how did you get this number?” The voice was firm and sounded like they were trying to be tough and scary but fell just short.
“You better not fucking damage him. You damage him any more than he already is and I’ll send all my best mercs after your ass and they won’t stop till your head is on a platter for me to pass off as art in some fancy exhibition that only serves snails and fish eggs and expensive alcohol to snobby, rich assholes who couldn’t give a crap about the art and focus on all the latest gossip instead.”
There was a pause as the person on the other end processed this before answering, “I’d never dream of it. I’ll take care of him.”
The voice was sincere in its promise, leaving Weasel with no doubt they had the same goals in mind. It seems that they had realized who they were talking to.
As he should, he thought smugly.
“I hope I didn’t have to mention this, but this never happened. I don’t do house calls.”
“Sorry, wrong number,” was the voice’s sassy reply before he hung up.
Weasel was left smirking at the phone, a weight lifted off his chest.
——————————————————————
The rules of friendship with Spidey were much different than Deadpool and Weasel’s rules.
Where Weasel paid him for killing his targets, Spidey reprimanded him.
Weasel hated feelings with an ironic passion and Spidey always put his heart on his sleeve and wanted Deadpool to share his feelings as well.
Where Weasel couldn’t give less of a shit if he got hurt, as long as he never had to see it, Spidey was desperate to never let Deadpool hurt.
Spidey never told him to shut up, even playfully, and Deadpool didn’t know how much of an impact that would be until his eyes stung at the realization.
Spidey liked to text him and didn’t mind if Deadpool sent him a string of long emojis or a long-winded rant or random propositions for other fun things they could do together.
Spidey never hesitated to offer to get food for him when he complained about being hungry (but Deadpool knew he wasn’t well off to begin with and always insisted he paid if Spidey played delivery boy).
It was the small things that somehow added up. The arachnid would remember a story he had told offhandedly one night when he wasn’t even really paying attention to himself. He knew his favorite orders to all their favorite restaurants and food trucks by heart. He didn’t mind when Deadpool talked to the boxes and, even more shockingly, he would talk to them too.
Spidey was always considerate with his trauma, whereas he’d had to threaten many people before they would shut up about it. After first seeing the scars when they ate, he didn’t ask. Deadpool could feel the stares but there were no disgusted reactions, he saw a wince but no gross noise accompanied it. And sometimes Deadpool would throw in a remark about his parents or one of the various revolting adults he’d come into contact with but Spidey never said a word, letting him talk freely without commentary or meaningless condolences and simply stayed near him and offered him a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on.
And it all came together really, the amount of trust that was earned by each of them. Spidey gave as good as he got without mentioning anything too identifiable about himself. He talked about his parents (dead) and his uncle (also dead). He talked about the little things and the big things. He trusted Deadpool to have his back and be there for him and Deadpool trusted Spidey with- almost everything.
He didn’t know, then, why he was so surprised when Spidey told him his name.
Spidey trusted him a hell of a lot, he probably wouldn’t even get mad if Deadpool did a little digging to find his identity, but he wouldn’t do that because he wanted to hear it all from Spidey.
He wanted to hear it from Peter.
And Deadpool wanted to kill himself again when Spidey got all stuttery and said Deadpool didn’t have to reciprocate and was looking more dejected and closed in on himself by the second.
Deadpool couldn’t give Peter what he wanted to hear, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t reciprocate.
“Baby boy… Deadpool was born the day I died. And then I kept dying.”
He wasn’t sure if the answer was going to satisfy the hero, if he was even going to understand what Deadpool was saying, but like he always did, Spidey was there for him.
Peter grabbed his hand and pulled the mercenary into a hug. He didn’t say anything and that was all the answer Deadpool needed. “I like you for who you are, Red,” was all the mumbled response he got nearly half an hour later, still held tight in their embrace.
——————————————————————
Deadpool was bored. There was no way around it, Peter was busy with stupid College Stuff and he had promised that he wouldn’t torment civilians without him there to supervise. That’s why he liked Spider-Man so much better than the others who have tried (and failed) to ‘reform’ him. Spidey wasn’t trying to change him and his ways, he just made rules that had consequences Deadpool cared about. Listening was for his own gain.
Spidey didn’t care that he imagined brutally violent ways to torture and murder the would-be rapists or kidnappers they stopped, he said he was angry too but that it wasn’t his right to kill them. It was up to the people in the courts to judge them, publicly shame them, and then take away all their personal freedoms except breathing. When he put it that way, Deadpool was inclined to see it a bit differently.
Sure, he’d rather end the problem himself, but there were things worse than death, he was living proof. If they suffered more like this than they would if he killed them, that was great! And Spidey likes second chances, Deadpool wouldn’t be here otherwise, he thinks that some of these criminals could change for the better.
Like he did.
It was unsaid between the two, Deadpool still enjoyed the more gory aspects of his job but he’d shown great restraint while with Spider-Man. He had changed a bit, not his moral code or his willingness to kill bad guys, but Deadpool himself had grown more in this year than he had in a long time, since he joined the army really. You grow real quick on the front lines.
He’s been good for Spidey but he wasn’t here right now and Deadpool had nothing to do for a week.
Deadpool sent a short text to Peter’s phone while he was in class that merely consisted of ‘Got a job. Back in a week. Miss you BB! <3’
Weasel seemed surprised that Deadpool was asking for a job right now, but he hadn’t been in for one in over a year. He instead came over to bitch about his twink, Weasel’s words.
To be fair, Spidey had taken up a lot of his time and he had to prove himself to the hero. He wouldn’t take any chances on ruining that. It was still risky to be doing this now after so long going cold turkey. Deadpool didn’t really see a problem but White was saying he’d mess everything up if he goes on a job, so there could be some merit to that. White was an asshole who liked to torment Deadpool, but he was the smartest of the three, unfortunately.
To combat his building unease, Deadpool made sure to request the baddest baddie Weasel had available. He needed to blow off steam and he couldn’t feel good about it if he was held up worrying if Peter would think the person deserved it. This way he was certain he wouldn’t feel guilty at all, even if Spidey disapproved.
The guy… he definitely deserved it. Deadpool would have done it for free if he wasn’t saving up money. He had plenty but when he was doing jobs regularly he never had to worry about how much he spent. The money he had now had to last him a long time just in case. No more free stuff if the people could afford it. (He’d still kill rapists free of charge if the victims were poor.)
Regardless, Deadpool had fun! It had been so long and he knew it’d be longer still until he got another worthy job. He’d told Weasel to put him down for any that really needed Deadpool’s touch, Weasel would know what to give him. It felt like he let off steam, he felt so relaxed and happy in a way that very few things could make him.
He felt a twist as he realized Peter was one of those things. Weasel was the only other person who could do that and even then it was only briefly. Peter made him happy when he paid attention to his outlandish stories and laughed without meaning to at his jokes. The trust he gave Deadpool made his chest feel full. Peter was… different from Weasel, in more than just the obvious ways.
And that ass was amazing.
——————————————————————
Spidey was, predictably, unimpressed. The confrontation had been calm, which despite Spidey’s track record he did not expect, and it’d gone much better than he thought it would. Spidey started with the guilt trip by saying he was worried both for him and his recent progress and then going on to ask why Deadpool had gone and broken his no-kill streak.
After explaining that he still took jobs sometimes when necessary, Spidey had wanted to know his version of necessary. He was stopped halfway through the list of atrocities his hit committed and Peter may have become a little sick or shocked or both with that hand clamped so tight over his mouth. He thought it was safe to say that Spidey wouldn’t question his judgment about targets anymore.
He didn’t expect Spidey to ever be okay with killing, but he knew that he wouldn’t miss any of the people Deadpool took out.
It was with reluctant acceptance that Spidey allowed Deadpool to continue his jobs without further lectures. Deadpool appreciated that a lot because fewer lectures meant Peter let him stare at his ass more often. He probably thought he was being smooth but Deadpool noticed that Spidey started turning around for no reason the longer he went without needing a lecture. Occasionally, when Deadpool was extra good, Spidey bent over for him. Peter obviously knew what he was doing because Deadpool could hear the low chuckles the arachnid made when he reacted dramatically.
Maybe he was a little dense, but Deadpool doubted that the little shows meant anything. Peter’s seen his skin, nobody wants to touch that with a 6-foot pole.
——————————————————————
The beginning of fall was nothing special, the winds were blowing and the temperature mercifully dropped 10 degrees from the heat of summer. Soon it would get very cold but Deadpool liked to savor these moments of relief that felt good on his skin.
There was nothing extraordinary about that night until Spidey came along. He could say that about every night he met with the adorable hero, but this night was one he would not forget. He has it marked on his phone calendar and his physical calendar just in case one fails.
Spidey swung onto the roof in his usual manner but when he landed he appeared to be nervous. Deadpool was going to ask what was up when he suddenly ripped his mask off and revealed that gorgeous, downright angelic face. Peter quickly gave him his full name and then told him the most surprising thing of the night.
Peter Benjamin Parker took a deep breath and said, “Today’s my 20th birthday.”
Deadpool took a quick second to take in all the new information, he could hardly believe this was real. In all honesty, part of him thought this was a hallucination. It was only the fact that he could not possibly create such a beautiful face with his own imagination (not even in his wettest of wet dreams) that he finally concluded this was really happening. And in true Deadpool fashion, he could not shut up.
“Oh em gee Petey! Look at that adorable face, how are you not covered in woodland creatures all the time? It’s your birthday and yet I’m the one getting all the presents!” He gasped in a dramatically shocked tone, “I didn’t even have time to get you a present like a true friend, tut tut Pete, where are your manners! Have you even had cake yet? No cake is sacrilege!”
And Peter was a real champion because he just stood there, finally relaxed with a fond smile on his face, and waited for him to be done. Deadpool could control himself better around Spidey, he knew there wasn’t going to be silence between them if he stopped so he let go quicker than he did with others. Peter didn’t even have to interrupt him much anymore.
“I did not have cake yet,” he said simply, ignoring the other words.
In an (only partially) fake outrage, Deadpool loudly exclaimed, “That is unacceptable, young man!”
And that was how people came to see Spiderman being dragged through the streets of New York by the large and intimidating Deadpool to the best damn bakery he knew that still had workers in it. They got there fairly quickly due to his large stature scaring people with just a glance in their direction. He hasn’t tried to be scary on purpose in a long time but he didn’t care if it happened by accident when it was in his favor. Deadpool took cake very seriously.
[No, you take pampering Peter seriously.]
{I don’t see how that’s a bad thing?}
[I never said it was.]
{Well maybe you should work on your tone because you sound kinda negative right now.}
[Whatever.]
After a short but pleasant chat with the night crew, Deadpool acquired their best cake with input from Peter (it was his cake after all). Then, they went back up to the rooftops to eat it.
“I can’t believe you didn’t even get napkins and we have to eat it with our hands. This is gonna be a sticky disaster,” the birthday boy pointed out.
Deadpool sniffed in playful annoyance, “What? Too good to be eating with your hands? They’re nature’s first utensils!”
Peter laughed and Deadpool couldn’t help but take it all in, brown hair and a white smile shining in the moonlight as he mirthfully reached to grab a handful of cake to stuff his face with. He was gorgeous. Deadpool shook his head, writing it off as jealousy, anyone was better looking than him. But it still didn’t explain why his heart throbbed {I think something else throbbed too} in his chest and his breathing stuttered.
He grabbed a handful of cake straight from the center of the cake, like a heathen, and crammed it all into his mouth. Peter gapped openly at him before he let out an undignified, cake-spraying guaff, indignant on behalf of his cake, “Who does that?! Right in the middle! What madness compels a person to do such a thing?!”
Deadpool finally broke, who could keep a straight face when met with all that adorable spluttering. “You knew I was crazy already, baby boy! Don’t act surprised!”
And that was how the night went, jokes and laughs and cake everywhere. He thought he might have a heart attack watching Peter suck and lick his bare fingers clean of all the chocolate on them. It was magical. A night with just them, no crime to stop or fans to pose with, just a time where they could be themselves together.
——————————————————————
Peter was acting strange. Don’t ask Deadpool how, it doesn’t really make sense to him either. Spidey was always clumsy despite his powers, he’s always stuttered when he gets flustered, and he’s always been very busy.
So why did it seem like he was busy more often, leaving patrol early when Deadpool knows he likes to stay out as late as possible? Why did Peter seem to struggle in conversation more than usual, stuttering every other sentence and changing topics every few minutes? How many more times than usual has he nearly fallen off the roof or hit a wall mid-swing?
Deadpool finds it all very strange.
([It’s not that hard to figure out, he’s just dense as hell.]
Hey, I resent that!
[But I’m not wrong.]
...... )
Despite that, their friendship seems to be better than ever. Peter texts him all the time, on his breaks he asks Deadpool to hang out, everything is as it should be.
So why did something feel different?
He’s aware that all things with Spidey are different than with Weasel but this felt like more than just a different style of friendship. He was missing something.
Something that would answer all his questions.
——————————————————————
Day by day, Deadpool changed. He could feel it, that thing inside him, wriggling and widening the hole it came out of.
It started with the way he fought. Spidey started him off with rubber bullets but gradually he stopped reaching for his guns as often. His katanas hardly had to be cleaned anymore. He used his fists more than ever. Most noticeably, he’s gotten efficient at incapacitating despite the restrictions.
It didn’t stop on the streets though. People started to notice, namely the Avenge-douches. They talked to him more, threatened him less, and bodily harm went down to nearly 0%. (He doesn’t blame Stark for throwing that whisky glass at him, he had it coming.)
The X-Men also made more attempts at contact, inviting him not only to more missions but also as a guest instructor for classes. Colossus didn’t even lecture him anymore! (Deadpool had mixed feelings about that. Parting is such sweet sorrow.) All hero types and shady government agencies (SHIELD) were being… nice to him.
But that wasn’t the end. The real change happened to him. He still kept all his safehouses but he was now living permanently at his condo. It started with being the only place suitable to bring his baby boy, but then Peter began dropping by randomly and texted him that he must’ve just missed him when Deadpool wasn’t there.
More than that, he started a routine. An actual, honest to god, self-care routine. After Peter walked in on a Bad Skin Day, he quickly deduced, with one of his majors, that they were not simply unfortunate side effects but a direct consequence of not taking care of himself. That was a long and hard lecture for the both of them, keeping Deadpool’s attention is like herding squirrels and they were both mentally drained by the end of it. So, he started taking regular showers and putting on lotion after drying off as well as using a skin cream in the morning that Peter specially made for him. They went from once a month to nearly never, but usually on or after missions when he couldn’t stick to his routine.
Lastly though, the most important part, Deadpool didn’t want to die as badly. Sure, he’d like to one day, but it wasn’t an urgent need like it used to be. The boxes were kinder to him, talking to Peter seems to have mellowed them out by giving them an outlet that wasn’t just Deadpool. He… didn’t have episodes anymore. Sure, there were nightmares and discomfort around labs and medical equipment, but he was no longer thrown into flashbacks and when he felt close he had Peter to talk him down.
He felt worthy of care, of a life without pain.
When did all of that happen?
After Peter, that’s when.
——————————————————————
It was one night, a few months after Peter’s 21st birthday when they were at Stark’s Christmas party for Supers. Everybody from the F4 to the Punisher was there. Thor had broken out the Asgardian alcohol, capable of surpassing any healing factor including his and Logan’s.
Of course they took the chance to get wasted. When you go as long as they do without being at all inebriated, you tend to act first and regret later. A lot of regret later.
Of course, they weren’t the only ones with trouble getting drunk. Everyone with a healing factor flocked to Thor as soon as he announced his arrival with spirits, including his sweet Spidey. It wasn’t the first time they had drank together, Peter’s 21st birthday party had consisted of yet another cake from the same bakery as last year but with every type of drink from margaritas to wine to vodka. It was hosted at his condo of course, Spider-Man couldn’t be seen being such a bad influence. They hadn’t gotten drunk but they were kept pleasantly buzzed the whole night, if not a little tipsy.
This was completely different than that night. Where Peter was normally a quiet and reserved guy at parties, he was now bouncing off the walls with energy and Deadpool was laughing louder than normal, which was hard to beat, really. They quickly became the public scorn of all not-drunk people and were regarded as either an annoyance or great playmate by fellow drunks.
Somehow, they ended up on the balcony. The wind felt great after being in that room full of sweaty people, even though it was nearly freezing outside. Or at least, it felt good to Deadpool. For a minute Peter seemed to think the same but after a while, he saw him start to shiver. Being the best bro that he is, Deadpool immediately wrapped the arachnid in a tight hug. Peter stiffened for a second before he all but melted into the embrace with a muffled ‘thanks’.
It was then that Deadpool remembered what Spidey told him when the weather first dipped, spiders can’t thermoregulate. And then he explained that meant he can’t retain any heat in his body. Cold bad.
Despite all their earlier mischief and ruckus-making, they were perfectly content to stand there quietly wrapped around each other and looking out at the city.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t Deadpool who broke the silence.
“D-Deadpool…” Peter called softly from his warm cage.
“Yeah, baby boy?”
The body he held shifted a little, though he thought nothing of it. After awhile it seemed like Peter wasn’t going to continue but then he lifted his head into view and out of his chest. His eyes seemed to be looking for something in Deadpool’s face even through their cloudy gaze, he had taken his mask off sometime after the alcohol kicked in enough to where he wouldn’t care but this was making him question that unconscious decision.
And suddenly he didn’t have time to think about that, because Peter’s face was getting closer and closer-
Until their lips connected.
It was brief and soft, they were just barely touching, Deadpool was too stunned to move. When he felt Peter about to pull away, he quickly snapped back into action and pulled him closer, pressing a little more firmly against Peter’s lips. That seemed to be the reaction he was looking for because Peter was spurred into action, a hummed pleased sound ringing between them as Peter moved tilted his head to a better angle and made the kiss more insistent.
It seemed to go on forever, for once an eternity Deadpool wouldn’t mind.
When they finally parted they didn’t go very far, resting their foreheads against each other. Deadpool was stunned and a little wary of what this could all mean when Peter, again, acted first.
“I- … I’ve been meaning to do that for a long time. Figures it required liquid courage, the one thing we can’t have.” He let out a breathless laugh onto Deadpool’s cheek and for once, the merc with the mouth was speechless.
“Really?”
A jerky nod was his answer, “Of course!”
“And… it’s not just because you’re drunk and horny?”
Peter made a distressed whine in his throat, “Just because I am both those things does not mean I don’t love you!”
They both froze.
The spider gasped and clapped a hand to his mouth in shock at his unplanned words. Deadpool was about to make some bad jokes to fix all of it but Peter wasn’t done.
He groaned and leaned his head on Deadpool’s shoulder, “I did not mean to say that right now. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to pressure you but it just slipped. Pool, I swear you don’t have to-”
Deadpool didn’t let him finish before grabbing his chin and pulling him into another kiss.
When he pulled away he gasped out his response.
“You can call me Wade, baby boy.”
~Fin~
——————————————————————