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Peter had never really been the influencer type. All the posing and pandering and filming and talking to people that made him nervous.

MJ on the other hand? MJ was a bombshell, stunning and funny in a sarcastic way that went over your head most of the time. Gorgeous curls of fiery red hair paired with eyes so green men often stopped in the streets if she dignified them with a glance.

Peter was still half in love with MJ, but at least now they both know it’s strictly platonic.

That had been a few confusing years.

Safe to say, though, influencer work, having a social media presence, it’s just not his thing. 

Until it is.

He can’t really pin down how it happened, because like most things it started with a drop in the bucket and steadily filled up until it overflowed and dumped all over him in a freezing shower.

That metaphor is perfect mind you, because that's where it started.

…

Six years ago

…

Peter is standing at the back of his college campus building, nervously wringing his fingers and trying to look casual, like he’s waiting for a friend and not attempting a drug deal.

“Parker!”

Peter’s head whips to the side and his shoulders drop a bit as he smiles shakily. “Hey, Flash.”

Yes, that Flash. 

Relentlessly tortured him through high school Flash.

Flash, his old bully, who had been messaging Peter for several weeks now.

It started as an apology dm, sent through instagram. It had taken Peter two weeks to realize anything had been sent and by the time he got it, he’d honestly assumed it would be too awkward to reply.

MJ, absolute terror of an angel that she is, encouraged him to respond.

“Either tell him to fuck off and suck his own dick or,” She had waved her hand in the air casually. “Some sappy shit about acceptance or something.”

What was the message? 

It was arguably very hallmark in form and reeked of ‘I read several self-help articles online and took at least one buzzfeed quiz’, but Flash’s character still shined through, a little cocky mixed with enough humility for Peter to risk a reply.

hi, flash. um, thanks for the message. i wasn’t expecting it, if i’m being honest. i can’t tell you none of it hurt, but i’m glad you’re in a place where you can see it was wrong.

Peter wasn’t expecting much after that, maybe a few more cordial messages, more watered-down apologies.

He wasn’t expecting Flash to ask him to coffee.

He certainly wasn’t expecting Flash to open up about internalizing his own homophobia through highschool and taking it out on Peter.

No, Peter certainly hadn’t expected that.

Flash was a perfect gentleman, and at the end of the meet up he dropped Peter off and asked if he could text him again.

Peter had said yes, cheeks flushed and feelings of confusion swirling in his stomach.

It had taken Flash weeks to get Peter to open up even a bit, but he was patient and kind and when he asked to meet up again, Peter said yes.

So here they are, tucked away in the recess of the main campus building and the library.

Flash scoots in close to Peter’s space and leans against the brick wall in a way that is slightly douchey, but Peter is sure Flash is just nervous.

“Hi, Flash. You, uh, you look good.”

Flash grins at him, all glinting teeth and disarming swagger. “Thanks, babe,” He exaggerates the pet name and winks at Peter in a way that feels a bit slimy if Peter is being honest.

Peter’s eyebrows furrow and he looks Flash up and down. “Uhh, okay. You good?”

Flash leans in and Peter’s breath stutters.

“I’d be better if you kissed me.”

If Peter had sound effects installed in his brain they would be booing enthusiastically, because seriously?

“I’m sure you would.”

Flash looks at Peter, takes in the small smirk on his face, and his demeanor changes.

It’s like a lightswitch flips, the way his smile drops and his eyes go dark and Peter’s spine tingles at the base in a way he’s familiar with.

“What’s wrong, Peter? You’ve been practically spreading your legs for me the past few weeks and now you won’t put out?”

Peter exhales a choked laugh and scoffs. “Are you serious right now?”

Flash’s eyes dart to the side, like he’s looking for something. “Ah fuck it, I don’t need your permission.”

He swoops down and Peter is more than capable of moving quickly when he’s not in shock, but this is a shocking moment, okay?

Flash pushes their mouths together and it’s an awful clash of teeth and a way-too-wet tongue drooling across his lips.

Peter goes to push Flash off of him at the same time Flash jerks back and Peter has no time to react when a bucket of literal ice-cold water douses him.

He stands there in a pissed-off frozen daze for all of two seconds before he looks up slowly, chest heaving as he glares at Flash.

There’s a group of guys off to the side howling with laughter, empty buckets in hand, aiming a camera at them.

Peter doesn’t look at them, just stares down Flash with murderous intent and whatever look is on his face must convince Flash because his face pales a bit.

Peter’s hand flashes out slightly faster than it should for a college kid, yanking Flash forward by the collar of his shirt to bash Flash’s nose into his knee, using the rest of the momentum to flip Flash on his back.

Peter huffs, dragging his hands through his dripping hair and stepping over Flash so his legs are on either side of his chest as he leans down, getting in his face.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Flash. I’m not the same person you bullied in high school.”

He has MJ to thank for that.

Flash’s eyes go wide ever so slightly before they narrow in anger and he spits out the only word he can think of to fight with.

“Faggot.”

Peter cradles Flash’s face with a wet hand. “Yeah, but who kissed who?”

Peter gets up and grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder before he notices the camera is still on him.

He swears up and down for the next six years that the spirit of MJ possessed him in that moment, as he walked away, because he blows the camera a kiss and winks before he walks off.

…

MJ had absolutely lost when he told her.

That’s not where it ended though. No, that was just the beginning.

Shit really hit the fan a week later, when Flash’s stupid Youtube channel went viral for a series he uploaded titled ‘Convincing a Gay Loser I Love Him’.

Honestly, Peter can’t even attempt being offended when the series title is so stupid.

What gets him is the ten part series detailing his every interaction with Flask, every text, every video call, every personal matter Peter had given up in confidence. 

Peter had called MJ over to watch it with him and she had arrived with several blankets and snacks in tow, handing him a tub of Cherry Garcia almost immediately.

“Let’s do this shit.”

Flash’s videos are a gym-bro’s wet dream, full of yelling, in-your-face graphics, and enough foul language to make his grandmother turn in her grave.

“These are terrible.” MJ mumbles.

Peter looks at her from inside his cocoon of pity. “Also full of incredibly personal information.”

MJ sticks a spoonful of chocolate peanut butter ice cream in her mouth and grimaces in sympathy, using her distraction spoonful to think of a response.

“Well,” She starts. “At least he has like no followers?”

Peter grumbles an agreement and sinks into the blankets further.

At least Flash has no followers

 …

Flash’s series goes viral the next week and Peter is beyond mortified for several minutes before the follow-up text from MJ comes in.

MJ🦇: Get this.

MJ🦇: You’re the one trending, lol

Peter: what

MJ sends him a few screenshots and a twitter link.

The screenshots are from Flash’s video. Comments, trashing Flash for being a homophobic asshole or praising Peter.

It takes him off-guard, the shocking outpour of kindness from random strangers on the internet.

Peter opens the link next and it redirects him to a twitter thread of a popular social media news outlet. They often run pieces on Spiderman and MJ likes to send them just to make him embarrassed.

This one is about him again, but as Peter Parker. No mask. No burning buildings or kitten rescues.

New Youtuber SmashingFlash under fire after posting a ten-part series about gay icon Peter Parker.

Peter stares at the headline for a second before he bursts out laughing. He calls MJ up immediately.

“Hey there, gay icon.”

Peter cackles, cheeks burning. “Shut up. What the actual fuck, MJ? Whose life am I living?”

MJ snorts over the line, “Keep reading.”

Peter shakes his head and clicks on the article link, rolling his eyes at the title before scrolling through, skimming over most of it in a sort of been-there-done-that fashion. It’s a rundown of Flash’s idiotic series, with a cringe worthy compilation of several of Peter’s texts, taken from the videos, painting him in a light that leaves him looking like a heartbroken mess of a person pining for love and affection.

It’s not wrong, but rude.

The kicker? The article details the exact reason why Peter has become the patron saint of gays within a week’s time.

Apparently taking a face-full of water and flipping the shit out of a homophobic dickhead while threatening them is grounds for iconicature in gay culture.

The bar is so low.

“I can’t believe I’m being put on a pedestal for not laying down and taking it. I was just mad that Flash had pulled the wool over my eyes just to force a kiss on me, throw fucking ice water on me and to top it all of, have the audacity to shove a camera in my fae. Is that so crazy?”

MJ hums and Peter hears the distinct click of a sucker on teeth. Her newest ‘cool’ habit has been sucking on lollipops and acting mysterious (it kind of works).

“No. But you could totally profit off this, I bet.”

Peter tucks his phone between his cheek and shoulder and digs through his fridge, looking for something he doesn’t have to make and pulling out a cheese stick.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Peter. Babe. Social media. The twenty-first century. Keep up.”

Peter peels the wrapper open with his teeth and spits out plastic. “You’re speaking Russian.”

“How are you so smart and so stupid at the same time?”

He has the cheese stick halfway to his mouth, hovering as he pouts. “That’s not nice.”

“You didn’t say I was wrong.”

“You’re not, “ He grumbles.

“What’s new? Now sit down and let me school you.”

…

It takes MJ half a week to convince him to make his own series and it's mostly because she all but holds a knife to his throat.

She’s sitting on his bed, leaning back on the wall casually, red sucker in her mouth, staring him down as he fumbles with the camera.

It’s both more and less unnerving to have her here.

“Are you gonna be here the whole time?”

MJ twirls the sucker before pulling it out of her mouth with a pop . “Oh, for sure. You’re shit at socializing. Just consider me your manager.”

Peter mumbles under his breath for a moment, fiddling with the settings of the camera until he’s satisfied.

“I’m good at socializing when I’m Spiderman.”

MJ wrinkles her nose. “Debatable.”

Peter whips around and  gives her a kicked puppy dog look. “You said I do great in costume!”

“You’re…definitely more confident.”

Peter groans and drags a hand over his face. “I can’t do this.”

MJ points her sucker at him and Peter would be afraid she’s going to projectile launch it if his senses weren’t calm as could be.

“You’re doing this, Peter Parker, or I’ll never forgive you.”

“Why?”

MJ gives him a look that softens the longer she stares at him. “Peter, do you know how many kids go through this shit every day? Just like you did. They don’t have anyone supporting them or telling them they’re gonna make it through, or that loving who they love and wearing what they want is okay. You’ve been handed the opportunity to do that.”

MJ knows just how to play to his sympathies and part of it is her knowing he’s Spiderman, that his moral code keeps him in costume, swinging through the city to defend the little people that no one cares about.

The other part is MJ knowing him. Knowing that he, as Peter Parker, has been through shit he never wants anyone else going through.

He turns back to the camera and clicks it on and MJ smiles in the background.

“Hey everyone. My name’s Peter Parker and you may notice me from a recent series by Flash, uh, SmashingFlash.” Peter snorts a laugh. “I guess the reason I’m making this video, other than my best friend forcing me to,” MJ waves to the camera with her sucker without looking up. “Is that I wish someone had been there to tell me years ago that I was allowed to be gay without shame.”

Peter fits his rambling in one, long video. He breaks down the bullshit of Flash’s videos and confesses all the same things in the texts, admitting that while he hadn’t wanted his private life public, there’s no shame to wanting love and comfort and affection.

It’s an absolute mess of an introduction  and when he goes to edit it it’s two hours long and it takes him a week to get through, with MJ’s help, but when they’re done it’s down to forty-three minutes and is semi-professional looking.

He makes an account and uploads it and doesn’t expect much from it. The internet has a short attention span, made obvious by the fact that Flash’s viral success is already tapering off.

He wakes up the next morning to hundreds of thousands of views and more comments than he can scroll through, a tidal wave of support and praise and thank-you’s from kids he imagines to be much like himself several years ago.

He shakes MJ awake and they spend the morning scrolling through, liking and replying to the comments and Peter feels a sense of satisfaction in his chest.

…

Current day

…

Peter is twenty-six now, in what he’d assume is the prime of his life, with a crazy following across every platform, thanks to MJ’s help, spending his free time Spidering around New York and doing his best to ignore the flirting of his sort-of vigilante partner.

That would be Deapool. 

Deadpool has nothing to do with his online presence because Deadpool has no idea he’s Peter Parker.

Peter has no plans to tell him either, much to Mj’s displeasure.

She’s trying to get him to jump on the ‘Double Life’ trend and show his Spiderman tiktok alongside his Peter Parker account.

Not happening.

Yes, Peter likes running his Spiderman account, posting aerial stunts and fights with criminals. Sometimes Deadpool features as a cameo and it’s fun and comfortable.

Peter also posts ‘civilian’ Spiderman tiktoks on his personal account to throw off the scent.

It’s his photographing Spiderman for The Daily Bugle all over again.

All this to say, he’s comfortable with his double life and has no intention of merging them. 

It would likely fuck up his carefully currated reputation on both ends.

See, he’s been pushing the boundaries of his online presence lately, testing the waters. I mean, it’s the twenty-twenties, rise of the goddess Chappell Roan, fall of political dictators, a true Barbie-loving, demure-minded society that’s both further than they’ve ever been and twenty years back depending on where you look.

Peter stays in his corner of the internet and basks in the warm solidarity of communities that do their best to uplift each other.

He’s benefited greatly from it over the years, meeting his idols from singers to drag queens to authors and it’s been hard pushing himself to continue to grow and step out of his comfort zone.

Last year he officially came out as trans and while he was a bit miffed that only a small portion of his followers found it to be a surprise, the deluge of people ready to embrace him was a terrifying joy.

He’d cried all over MJ’s new sweater when he posted the video and cried again, happier, when the support started flooding in. 

“I told you.” She said.

“I know. I was just scared.”

He still is.

…

Peter drops to the ledge of the rooftop with a great sigh, chest still heaving from the exertion of lifting not one, but two cars to help a litter of trapped kittens.

Why did they have to hide under two different cars?

Wish he knew!

“Oh! Em! Geeeee!”

Peter smiles beneath his mask and doesn’t turn around. “Hi Deadpool.”

Deadpool squeals in a register that makes his heightened hearing ring.

“Yikes, dude. Spider hearing, remember?”

There’s a phone in his face and Peter inches away from it minutely.

“Sorry, baby boy, you were just so hot, lifting cars to save those poor, defenseless kittens, all rippling muscles in the setting sun. It was glorious.”

Peter sputters, laughing. “Stop teasing! Kitten lives are just as important as human lives. And there was no…rippling anything!”

Deadpool drops beside him and holds his phone aloft, pressing their cheeks together before Peter shoves a hand against his cheek.

“All the rippling. I have it on video. Say hi to the people.”

Peter leans into frame a bit more, smiling even though it doesn’t register, the lenses of his mask squint a bit. “Hi to the people.”

“Ugh! Isn’t he the cutest.”

Deadpool wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulls him closer and if Peter didn’t have impeccable balance he’d likely be halfway to the ground by now.

“Deadpool.” He tries to say it like a warning, but it comes out too fond.

That’s another thing. 

Ever since Deadpool started his own tiktok and began filming their patrols and interactions it’s been that much harder for Peter to keep his crush on the down low.

Their fans notice everything and the ferocity with which they ship together two masked men with secret identities is scary.

Peter turns his head away from Deadpool and tries for nonchalance. “Shouldn’t we get back to work?”

Deadpool whines and it’s reminiscent of a husky, the way he pouts and wiggles. “Fiiiine, you get up first.”

Peter extracts himself from Deadpool’s grasp, flipping out of the octopus-like grip and landing gracefully in a crouch a few feet away.

“Damn. Look at that ass.”

Peter straightens and looks over his shoulder, hands at his hips. “Deadpool!”

“Coming! Well, not yet. Later.”

Peter webs the man’s phone and ends the video, sending it to Deadpool’s drafts. “Your phone privileges have been revoked.”

Deadpool grins, mask as expressive as ever, loping toward Peter with a slumped posture that makes him look like a puppy bounding towards their owner.

“Any other privileges you wanna revoke? You could tie me up, since I've been a bad boy. Spank me a little?”

Peter laughs, cheeks hot beneath his mask. “Jesus, Deadpool. Knock it off.”

Like every time he asks, Deadpool does, toning it down until his joking is on a level that’s more obnoxious than sexual and Peter hates how much he adores that, the little touch of understanding.

…

Peter is bouncing with a bit of anxious energy as he descends into the subway, backpack over his shoulder.

He’s continuing a series he started recently, at MJ’s behest.

Normalizing makeup for men, in the format of ‘Day _ of normalizing makeup for men.’

Peter never wore makeup growing up, because ‘boys don’t wear makeup’ was the rhetoric he was fed.

The past few years, joining the drag community and attending pride events and fooling around with MJ’s makeup during sleepovers has given him a new outlook on life, and thus a new outlook on what he wears.

He’s never been fashionable, which is why he’s wearing a form-fitting gray shirt and baggy black cargo pants, but he’s trying, okay?

Wearing makeup? Also not really his thing. It takes time he doesn’t have and it’s messy and gets on his fingers when he rubs his face, but he’s been trying it out ever since the New Years Eve party last year.

MJ had done his face up in grungy sparkly makeup, with dark, smokey eyeshadow and glitter smeared over his eyelids and cheekbones in a look she had dubbed ‘Cardan Greenbriar Core’. 

Peter still isn’t 100% on what that means, but MJ had recorded their night in several parts, getting ready, the party, and the countdown where Peter had, in a fit of drunken confusion, kissed a cardboard cutout of Deadpool.

Why was there a cardboard cutout of Deadpool at a New Years Eve party? Fuck if he knows.

He still hasn’t lived it down because every now and then someone comments about it on a video that has nothing to do with Deadpool and Peter wants to crawl into a shell of mortification and die.

Nonetheless, he’s on day six of his new series and he’s still nervous under the surface because while his comments are mostly positive and the live reactions he gets are also mostly positive, the few that aren’t are brutal.

Peter’s been called more than a few slurs through the past few days and all he’s doing is putting on casual makeup in the subway tunnel. Like New York hasn’t seen weirder shit.

He suctions his phone to the wall and checks the time. He’s got thirty minutes before his train gets here and he goes to work.

Yes, he works a full-time job even with the social media and Spiderman gig.

Tiktok and Youtube don’t pay for everything and he prioritizes making sure Aunt May is comfortable above anything else.

He pulls up tiktok and sets his backpack on the lip of the wall and starts recording.

He pulls out foundation first, a brand MJ had recommended to him. He doesn’t really think he needs it, but everyone who does makeup is adamant he has a good base.

So he pumps the cold liquid on his face and brushes it into his skin with a fluffy brush that gives him a nice airbrushed look.

His favorite part is watching people in the background. The first man who passes is about his age, with beautiful lips and cheeks Peter would bite if given the choice. He looks thoroughly confused and Peter suppresses a smile.

The next person to walk by is a man in douchebag blue sunglasses that scream homophobic, so when he leans into Peter’s space to ask what he’s doing Peter responds casually.

“Just putting on makeup.”

The man asks if he’s a faggot and Peter returns to the camra with a shake of is head, puffing his cheeks out.

The next few interactions are much nicer. 

A gorgeous woman passes and waves cutely at the camera as he puts on blush and Peter grins. Another man passes, tall and lanky and glowing, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder as he leans in, complimenting him for having the courage to do this in public and initiates the bro handshake before pulling him for a hug and Peter is a weak man, because he falls in love a bit.

Two girls pass next, giggling and waving behind him and he turns to wave back, smiling.

The next person shoots him the textbook perfect look of disgust as he applies eyeliner, that he brushes off with a quick raise of his eyebrows.

Could be worse.

Especially when the next interaction is two men passing, making a heart with their fingers as Peter brushes eyebrow gel through his eyebrows. He winks at them, smiling when they duck past.

He finishes up with a clear gloss, making a face a camera and is about to turn the video off when he spots a red figure behind him, leaning against the pillar. 

It’s Deadpool.

Peter stares through the screen and he can’t help the way his eyes widen when Deadpool starts walking toward him and the video is still goin g.

Deadpool leans over him and Peter bends his head back to look up at him before realizing how ridiculous that looks.

He turns just enough to peer at Deadpool in confusion.

“Uh. Hi.”

Deadpool grins and Peter can see that shit-eating grin of his through the mask.

“Hey there, hot stuff.”

Peter blushes hard and the only thing slightly saving him is the makeup that’s covering it a bit.

“Hi.” He shakes his head, reaching out to stop the video. “I said that already.”

Deadpool’s grin has passed shit-eating territory and dived straight for fuckery and buffoonery.

“You sure did, cutie. Peter Parker, huh? I’ve been dying to meet you for a while now.”

Peter fidgets in place, gnawing at his lip and getting a mouthful of sticky gloss.

“Me? Uh, why would you… How do you know me?”

He’s got two minutes until his train arrives.

“Oh, I’m a big fan of your New Years video. Stunning performance, really.”

Wade winks and the white lens copies the movement.

Peter’s brows furrow, confused and mildly annoyed. “Are you making fun of me?”

Wade’s hands fly up, waving in a placating manner. “Oh god, no. Cute guy starts kissing my cardboard cut-out look alike at a party and I get curious. Even if you were drunk off your ass. Explains the whole situation, really. I just wanted to say hi.”

Peter blows out a breath, “I really don’t know what to say. I was drunk and…I kind of have a.” His train rolls up and Peter starts, yanking his backpack on. “Oh shit, that’s my train. Bye!”

Peter turns, staring at Deadpool before bounding into the train and holding on as the doors close. 

Deadpool is watching him carefully, head tilted and eyes steady through his mask.

It’s unnerving and Peter doesn’t breath until the train pulls away because holy fuck.

Deadpool had confronted him out of his Spiderman suit and it had been equal parts terrifying and exciting.

…

Peter leaves Mj in charge of his drafts most of the time because she’s better at trimming his videos down to something watchable, so the sixth video from his new series goes up and Peter doesn’t think anything of it until a few days later, when he has a massive uptick in follows, views and comments on his page.

He messages MJ a screenshot of his notifs with a question mark and she sends a shrugging emoji back.

He sighs and figures his best bet is to just bite the bullet and figure it out himself, even if navigating the notifications sounds like a nightmare.

To his surprise and delight, it’s simpler than he imagined. There’s no imaginary scandal, no one trying to cancel him or start drama.

It all boils down to the fact that MJ didn’t bother to cut out his interaction with Deadpool the other day and the Deadpool fans (yes, they exist in hoards) came flooding in. 

Along with a good chunk of Spideypool fans, which surprises him, because they’re like rabid beasts when it comes to shipping him with Deadpool. Well, him as Spiderman.

He clicks on the video and watches it through, skipping over the first portion until he spies red in the background.

Deadpool had walked into frame sooner than he had originally thought, around halfway through, pushing a guy up against the pillar in the far right corner and Peter is surprised to find it’s the douchebag with the blue-tinted sunglasses from the start of the video.

Deadpool threatens the guy, Peter assumes, because he’s shoving Bea (or Arthur) against the guy's throat and the man is yelling something and then the video cuts to a different part and Deadpool is leaning against the pillar furthest away, watching.

A minute later the clip changes and Deadpool is leaning against the pillar right behind Peter and that’s when Peter notices him and that’s when Mj should have stopped the video, when Peter checks his makeup and goes to turn his camera off.

But the video keeps going and Peter watches himself notice Deadpool, who walks up to him all suave and when Peter tilts his head back to look up at him it’s frankly ridiculous how much Deadpool towers over him.

There’s music over the video, a song from an album with a garishly bright chartreuse labeled ‘brat’. It’s bright and fun and definitely club music and it covers Peter’s awkward hello and Deadpool’s subsequent response and Peter is mortified to find his makeup certainly didn’t cover his blushing.

Goddamnit MJ.

The comments are absolutely feral. 

Half are like his other videos, gushing over his makeup, the people behind him, attempting to fight the rude ones through the phone. 

The other half are a different breed. 

Sure, he’s seen the unhinged comments on his Spiderman tiktok, but he does his best to not look at them, it’s better that way. 

But these? Holy shit. 

PoolPleasePoundMe : oh my god oh myd god oh my fucking gid im dead and dying. my fav influencer and my fav merc with a mouth FLIRTING?!?!?👹👹👹

twocatsandaparrot : Do you think Deadpool knows about the New Year’s party video? Someone should tag him

HarleyQuinnTwin : i normally ship spidey and pool together but this dude is Super cute. deadpool looks totally interested

ragerdanger16 ; uh oh, Spidey, come get your man🙊🚨

Meganhatesaltoids : what did deadpool say to get that reaction? i need to know!! where’s the lip reading girl😭😭

        charlottey : uhhh, i don’t think she can read lips through the mask

Yikes. 

This is beyond his pay grade for sure. 

Peter: i have no idea why everyone is freaking out over this

Peter sends a few screenshots with his text and MJ’s typing bubble pops up immediately after. 

MJ🦇: Bc you’re hot and pool is hot.

MJ🦇 : That’s like, basic math, I fear

Peter: i feel like you’re mocking me

MJ🦇: If I were mocking you, you would know it

Peter: fair

Peter: what should i do about it?

MJ🦇: I mean, what do you wanna do about it?

MJ🦇: Your options are to go with it and profit or to act like it didn’t happen. Both of which will stir the pot 

Peter: so i’m stuck between a rock and a hard place

MJ🦇: It looks like you could be if you played your cards right

Peter: mj!!

MJ🦇: (;

Peter quietly laments the fact that his best friend hates him while contemplating his choices. 

There’s really only one option that makes sense to him, because he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of a singular interaction with Deadpool and the chances of seeing him ever again are slim to none. 

He sighs and leans back in his rolly chair and plans out content in his head and rearranges his schedule to fit in patrol and a meet-up coming up with a popular influencer that MJ set up for him. 

…

Patrol is slow tonight and Peter is tempted to pull out his phone and scroll for a while, but he knows the second he does is when some serious shit will happen. 

He’s scanning the ground, switching rooftops every few minutes and listening intently for anything off, when he hears heavy boots scaling a nearby ladder. 

He doesn’t even need to look over the side to know who it is, so he doesn’t turn when Deadpool hauls himself onto the roof. 

“You are a surprisingly hard to find spider for someone decked out in red and blue. Like a giant flag. How do you miss that?”

“Hey, Pool.”

“Heya, baby boy, how’s it hanging? Well, currently you’re not, but my question still stands. Which you currently are .”

Peter shoots him an exasperated look. “You should learn the art of shutting the fuck up sometimes.”

“Oh yeah?” Deadpool waggles his eyebrows. “Wanna show me how? Teach me a lesson? Fill my mouth so I can’t use it?”

Peter scrubs a hand down his face. “Jesus, Deadpool, too much.”

“Really?”

Peter groans, but there’s a smile creeping up on his face. “I’ll never admit to it, but no, not too much, you weirdo.”

“I knew I should have had my phone recording. White even told me so.”

Peter looks out at the skyline and makes a noise of contentment. 

Deadpool let’s him sit in the silence for all of two minutes, bouncing in place like a soda bottle ready to pop, before he explodes. 

“Okay, so I saw the cutest boy the either day.”

“Mhm.”

“Big brown doe eyes you can get lost in, curly hair you could sink your fingers in and pull real nice in bed, you know? All gussied up with nowhere to go, well he went somewhere but that’s not the point of the story.”

“Pool.”

“You know the best part of it? Kid has some weird fascination with me. Saw a video of his ages ago where he kissed a cardboard cut out of me, drunk off his ass, dolled up like a sweet slice of cherry pie.”

Deadpool starts to hum Cherry Pie and it’s a godsend because Peter’s mind is doing fun little loops around the fact that Deadpool is talking about him . Holy shit. 

Deadpool…called him cute. The cutest, in fact.

Oh, Peter is gonna spend the rest of the night flipping between groaning and giggling into his pillow. 

Groaning in a normal way, by the way. Like existential crisis groaning!

“So…”

Deadpool stops humming immediately, face turning to look at him with eerie stillness. 

“Sup, my little web spinner?”

Peter loses track of his thought and has to scramble to grab it back. “Uh. Cute guy, huh?”

Wade’s lenses somehow sparkle, “Yes! His name is Peter Parker and apparently he’s some famous little gay icon on the interwebs. Interwebs, not your webs, Webs. Ass could rival yours though. Hmm, no the spandex definitely makes yours better.”

“Wade, focus.”

“I am focused! Totally focused. Focused as hell on caramel dream eyes and a mouth that looks like it would do sinful things.”

“No it does not!”

Peter blinks and Wade blinks and Peter scrunches under the scrutiny. 

“Oh my god, Spidey-babe, do you know him?”

What a loaded question. 

“Not technically. Sort of.”

Wade squeals and Peter claps his hands over his ears and pushes out a leg to kick Deadpool over. 

“Be quieter, you asshole.”

“Sorry, sorry. But if you know that sweet piece of ass, baby boy, I will beg you on hands and knees to get me an in.”

Peter stutters for a moment before a tiny inkling of a plan forms. 

“Well, he has this series on tiktok where he, uh, does his makeup in the subway. He’s a bit stupid and uses the same place each time because he does it before work.”

Wade leans in, kicking his feet. “Ooo, what does he do for work? He a stripper?”

“That’s a terrible stereotype, Pool. What the fuck.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, please punish me. My safe word is ‘harder’.”

Peter considers pushing Deadpool off the building and jumping off alongside. 

“Why are you stupid?”

“There are so many reasons. You hungry, Sweet Cheeks? Yes, that’s a reference to those sweet cheeks. I could go for mexican. You down for tacos? Oh shit I’ve never asked you that before. You prefer burritos or tacos, Spidey?”

Deadpool gives him whiplash sometimes. 

“Pool, that’s…kind of a personal question.”

“Right, secret identities. Got it.”

“No, I mean. Pool, that’s just a deep topic, you know? Not really a ‘burrito or taco’ question.” 

His cheeks burn. 

Wade hums, scrolling through his phone on Uber Eats. “That’s fair. You don’t have to answer, I was just curious. I like both. Not picky at all, no siree. I’ll eat anything, anywhere, all the time.”

Peter puts his face in his hands. “I’m aware.”

“Are you, though?”

Peter taps his fingers against his knee before going for it. “I’m gay. I like guys. Burrito or taco, doesn’t matter as long as they’re a guy.”

God, what an awful metaphor. 

Wade leans in, close enough that all Peter can see are wide white lenses and the surrounding black. He puts two fingers against Deadpool’s chest and pushes gently. It says everything that Deadpool pulls back completely. 

“That’s cool, Spidey. Cool, cool, cool. Have I mentioned I’m a guy? Mostly. Usually. At least 99% of the time.”

Peter chuckles, “I’m aware, Pool.”

“Totally guy enough for a gay man, yeah?”

Peter tilts his head, raising a brow Deadpool can’t see. “What about your cutest boy?”

“Oh, baby, he means nothing. You’re the only man for me.”

Peter shoves him in the shoulder and laughs and when Deadpool hands him his phone he adds double to the order already there and very carefully does not look at the price. 

“Thanks, Pool.”

“Course, Spidey. Anything for you.”

…

Peter hops into the subway the next day, an hour before his train for work leaves. 

He called MJ over the night before and spilled the entire patrol to her and she only laughed at him a little bit before she started concocting an evil little plan. 

“Alright, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get dressed up in your cutest, butt hugging outfit, no, don’t look at me like that, he likes your butt, work the assit.”

Peter focuses on the paint job he’s doing on MJ’s nails, tongue poking out a bit in concentration. 

“MJ, he doesn’t even know I’m me. How am I supposed to do this?”

“You woo the fuck out of him and then eventually you spill the beans on the Spiderman thing. You don’t even have to worry about putting him in danger because he can’t die.”

“MJ, that’s awful! I don’t wanna put him in danger at all! I don’t care if he can come back from it. Besides, there’s the whole secret identity thing at stake. If I get with Deadpool, how do I separate Peter Parker and Spiderman? It’s already blurred around the edges.”

MJ pulls her hand back and blows on her wet nails, inspecting them. “You’re getting better at this.”

“MJ,” He whines. 

She sets her hand down and lets out a long sigh before she turns to him fully. “Pete, you either go for it and potentially end up really happy, or you don’t and spend the rest of your life either too afraid to commit or wishing the whole time that you had gone for it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Peter’s immediate thought is ‘He could die’, but he already knows that’s not true. 

“He could hate that I’m Spiderman. He could resent me for not telling him. He could blame me for leading him on or for-“

“Shut up. The worst thing is he’s too in love with one half of you to go for the other half. Actually scratch that, he’s too insecure to go for anyone, so if you come at him as Peter Parker there’s no way you won’t win him over. The worst that could happen, Peter, is he doesn’t believe you really like him.”

Peter mulls that over, stomach twisting at how accurate that is. MJ is always spot on with her deductions and she doesn’t pull punches. 

“I’m just afraid, MJ.”

“That’s okay,” She says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “A little fear never killed anyone.”

…

So he’s here, an hour before his train, setting up to film another video just like the previous six and his mind is anywhere but the present. 

He’s not overthinking how people will react or when he’s going to have MJ post it or whether his boss is finally going to crack and tell him to stop showing up with makeup on. 

His mind is solely orbiting a single red-clad thought that comes in the form of Deadpool. 

He doesn’t even know Deadpool’s real name. 

Deadpool might not even show up.

It’s not like Peter gave him a time, and would Deadpool even take it seriously enough to follow through on?

Likely not.

Peter suctions his phone to the wall and pulls up tiktok on autopilot, training his eyes on his backpack so he doesn’t start searching the background like a madman. 

He’s gonna do the same thing he does each time, slap mediocre makeup on his face and hopefully interact with more kind people than not. 

MJ suggested the song Casual for this go around and Peter had to look it up on the way over and now the tune is stuck in his head. 

He presses the record button and starts the little routine, humming the song under his breath as he goes. 

Foundation on, brushing it on in circles. 

Dumb love, I love being stupid

A girl passes and throws up a peace sign in the background and Peter grins at her. 

Dream of us in a year. 

MJ is the bane of his existence. 

Setting the base, applying liquid blush and rubbing it into his cheeks, turning his face side to side in momentary appreciation. 

People passing, goofy laughter, smiling faces. 

Maybe we’d have an apartment. 

And you’d show me off to your friends at the pier. 

Peter is not putting this song over top of the video, but he’s sure MJ never wanted that in the first place. 

He applies liner to his waterline, blinking afterward at the slight sting. 

I know, “Baby, no attachment.”

There’s an arm around his shoulder as he applies a thin coat of mascara, wand jerking as he tries not to stab himself in the eye. 

He laughs, one eye closed as he turns to the stranger and his view is taken up by red, so much red. 

He drops the mascara and Deadpool’s hand snatched it out of midair, lightning fast. 

He holds it up, “You dropped this, sweetheart.”

Peter takes the tube carefully, glancing at his phone before he tosses the mascara in his backpack. 

“Thank you.”

Deadpool leans in close and grins before waving to the camera. “No problem, cutie pie. Can’t help saving a damsel in distress. A duke in distress? Damoiseau in distress.”

Peter rolls his eyes playfully, pulling out the palette MJ had loaned him. “I’m a damsel. I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice day.”

Deadpool cups his hands around his face and coos. “Ohhh, you do references. I’m in love.”

Peter drags a finger through a dark purple and smudges it over his eyelids in messy fashion. 

“Why am I not surprised?” He teases. 

Deadpool hovers over his shoulder, watching him through the screen.

“Because you’re gorgeous and anyone would fall for you? Do you believe in soulmates?”

Peter’s face flushes immediately, creeping up his neck and burning his ears, but he plays it cool simply so the reaction isn’t on camera.

“Definitely not, Pool. And I’m not sure.”

Deadpool watches him again, seeming fascinated as Peter drags gel through his eyebrows. 

“Huh. I believe in heartmates. Got one in Spidey. He doesn’t know that, though, so don’t go spreading my secret. Spread something else if you like.”

Deadpool has a finger to his lips and Peter huffs a laugh, tossing the eyebrow gel back in his bag where it clatters to the bottom.

“Like crabs?”

He has to dig around for the clear gloss, scanning the background as he does and smiles at a girl who’s hovering behind him. 

She waves shyly and he waves back and Deadpool is laughing at his ear, a deep, resonate bass that makes his spine tingle in a way not all that unlike his spidey sense. 

“Cute and funny? I’m gonna have to dump my work husband. He’ll understand.”

Now listen, Peter knows he came here with the express intent to draw Deadpool in, woo his stupid ass and eventually reveal that he’s Spiderman and hope that it all works out smoothly, but here’s the thing. Hearing Deadpool completely dismiss his other half like he doesn’t matter? 

Does he flirt back in his Spiderman costume? No, it’s too risky. But the fact remains that Deadpool has been half in love with his spider half for the past five, six years at least. 

Now he’s nothing?

Peter is not pouting when he puts the gloss on, but he’s not not pouting. 

Deadpool is silent behind him and that’s scary enough on its own, so Peter looks at him briefly. 

Deadpool looks pensive, as much as he can through the mask. 

Peter isn’t expecting the gloved hand that reaches forward and cups his jaw, gloved thumb dragging across his lower lip. 

Deadpool pulls his hand back and touches his thumb and forefinger together a few times, testing the stickiness and Peter is reeling. 

He’s just a man, okay? 

A very weak, very Deadpool-loving man. 

He slams his hand into the camera and turns it off with a panicked look. 

He rips his phone off the wall and shoves it in his pocket with the intention to never let that see the light of day. 

“I, um…I have to go to work.”

“You don’t start for another forty-eight minutes, darling.”

Peter scrunches his nose. “How do you know that?”

Deadpool grins, lenses slitting. “Certified stalker, babe.”

Peter frowns and kicks the toe of his shoe into the tile. Deadpool is…different. Less chill than their patrols and definitely attempting a weird sort of flirting suaveness. 

“Do you wanna get some coffee?”

Deadpool blinks and Peter focuses on not blushing at the scrutiny. 

“Really?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Deadpool claps hands to his cheeks and squeals and Peter flinches. “Oh my god, is this a date?”

“If you want it to be,” He mumbles. 

They’re getting a few stares, though Deadpool always gets stares. 

Deadpool holds his arm out and Peter assumes he’s expecting him to loop his arm through. 

He does so with a disgustingly fond sigh. Why does he like this idiot?

“This is so a date. I’ll do my best not to scare you off.”

Peter hums, “I don’t scare easy.”

“Nope, just blush easy.”

“Shut up,” He hisses between his teeth, embarrassed. 

Deadpool chuckles ans pulls them out of the station and onto the street, waving a cab down. “It’s cute, Petey-pie.”

“You’re cute.”

Deadpool is holding the door open and Peter slips in, grinning at the way Deadpool has apparently glitched out, hand on the door, still as a statue. 

He ducks his head down to the car. “Did you just call me cute?”

He slides into the seat beside Peter. 

“Yes.”

Deadpool leans in close to his face and Peter can smell his cologne. “I kill people for a living.”

“You haven’t killed people for a living in years.”

“I still kill people.” Deadpool says while pointing a finger at him. 

“It happens.”

“It happens! It happens? Peter Parker, you are one morally gray mother fucker wrapped in a cute little puppy dog package.”

Peter smiles, messing with the fraying edge of the hole in his knee. Skinny jeans he hasn’t worn since his first year of college that MJ insisted he wear to ‘accentuate his ass’.

Deadpool didn’t even notice them, so he feels a bit silly. 

“Most people are morally gray, even if they seem black and white. I can tell you killing is bad all I want, and believe every second of it, but the fact is that killing happens. It’s happened all of history and it’ll continue to happen. My job isn’t to judge what others do. I make sure I don’t kill people and the law will take care of the rest, shitty as the system is.”

Deadpool tilts his head. “Petey, what the fuck is your job.”

Oh shit. 

Peter laughs, choking on it a bit. “Uh, I work for an online newspaper? I take photographs and write columns.”

“So isn’t your whole job to judge people?”

Peter gnaws at his lip. “No…I try to report facts without bias, which is really hard, because I have a lot of bias, like anyone else. I bring awareness to the fucked up systems in place and report on the things being done and the things left to do. Women’s reproduction rights, criminalizing homelessness, the inherent racism in the entire justice system. Things like that.”

“How the fuck do you keep bias out of that? There’s literally only one right side to all of that.” 

Deadpool has pulled a red vine out of nowhere as is snaking it under his mask to chew on. 

Peter finds himself grinning at the antic. “I’m well aware. But you’ll never win anyone over by yelling at them and telling them they’re wrong. The type of people who think women don’t have a right to their own body, that the homeless population deserves to be locked up for existing in the wrong economical environment, they don’t listen to reason well. You can show them all the facts until you’re blue in the face and it won’t make a difference. It takes a special touch to appeal to the shriveled up part of them that was bruised and beaten as a child and has lain dormant the whole time.”

Deadpool turns his body so he’s facing Peter and it takes until then to realize the man never buckled up and Peter clicks his tongue before reaching across to pull the seat belt over him. 

“Don’t ignore road safety laws.”

“I literally can’t die, baby boy! That’s some powerful stuff you’re doing, Petey-pie. Honorable shit.”

“No, but the cab driver can get in trouble for your reckless behavior, so be more mindful.”

“Hm.” Deadpool is looking at him in a way that makes him squirm. “You remind me of a friend of mine, pumpkin pie. Oh, we’re here!”

The serious aura Deadpool was exuding dissipates immediately. 

Peter looks out the window and opens the door hesitantly. It’s not a coffee shop he’s familiar with, but it’s small and run-down and dingy and he grins because he just knows they’ll have the best coffee. 

He opens the door and half crawls out, because as short as Deadpool makes him seem, Peter is not a short man. 

A whistle sounds behind him and Peter straightens on the sidewalk, stretching his back. 

He looks behind him and Deadpool’s eyes are very clearly glued to his ass and if Peter arches his back ever so slightly no one could hold that against him. 

He chuckles and holds a hand out. “Hurry up, I have work soon.”

Deadpool takes his hand and Peter pulls him up easily and that’s another misstep on his part because Deadpool practically flies forward with an ‘oof’ as he stumbles into Peter.

Peter slaps a hand over his mouth to cover his laughter. “Oh shit, sorry.”

“Goddamn, Petey, you hiding some crazy bodybuilder muscle under all that cute?”

Peter grins, “Maybe.”

Deadpool waggles his eyebrows through the mask and Peter shakes his head. 

“I’d love to test that theory.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, stepping into Deadpool’s space for once. “Oh really? Like you could handle this.”

Deadpool fakes panting like a dog, “I’d handle it so good, Petey. Two hands. Just give me a chance.”

Peter walks into the coffee shop and leaves Deadpool to trail after. 

He orders a frappuccino in the time it takes Deadpool to pick his jaw up off the ground and stagger in behind him. Peter’s blood is thrumming with the thrill of flirting so brazenly, acting like he’s calm and collected and knows what he’s doing. 

It’s easy to do with Deadpool because Peter’s had years to weather his own crush and the merc’s flirting.

It also doesn’t hurt to have the knowledge that Deadpool thinks he’s cute. The confidence boost is something he’s never experienced before. 

“What do you want?”

He looks up at Deadpool. 

“You’re not on the menu, but I guess I’ll settle for a black coffee.”

Peter’s brows knit together, “You don’t drink black coffee.” Deadpool’s eyebrows lift and Peter scrambles to recover. “There’s no way you drink black coffee. You’re a sweets type of person through and through.”

“And how would you know that, sweetums?”

The barista is staring at them with a bland mix of boredom and curiosity. 

“I assumed like a dick, now order what you really want.”

Deadpool orders a long, complicated way-too sweet blended drink and Peter cringes, mildly embarrassed. 

He steps forward to pay even when Deadpool offers. “I’m sorry, I don’t normally let him out in public. He doesn’t know how to act.”

The barista looks from Peter to Deadpool, pops her gum, and looks back to Peter, eyes widening as she takes his card. 

“You’re Peter Parker. I follow you on tiktok.”

Peter rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. “Well, thank you. It’s always nice to meet people in the community.”

She swipes his card and hands it back. 

“What community is that?”

Peter looks at her again, the piercings and dyed hair, and flounders. “Um. Well, typically gay people. Or gay adjacent?”

“I look gay to you, Parker?”

Deadpool is cackling behind him and Peter wants to sink through the floor. 

“Would I be an asshole for saying yes?”

“Totally. But not wrong.”

She smirks at him at points down the counter to a little waiting area. “Your drinks will come out over there, asshole, try not to assume anything about them.”

Peter groans and flashes her a quick smile as he makes his way over, pushing Deadpool when he doesn’t move with him. 

“Hold on,” Deadpool mumbles before doubling back, shoving something in the tip jar and circling back to throw an arm around Peter’s shoulders. 

He looks back and his eyes blow wide at the hundred dollar bill right on top. 

“Holy shit, Pool, that’s a shit ton of money.”

Deadpool is scanning the room, like he’s looking for threats. “I ordered a nightmare, I look like a nightmare, and they make pennies in this economy. It’s the least I could do.”

Peter feels his chest warm, something that happens every now and then with Deadpool, when he does these tiny little gestures of thoughtless kindness. 

“That’s sweet of you.”

Deadpool looks down at him now, scoffing. “The only thing sweet about me, Petey, are the things I eat. Sweet coffee, red vines…you.”

Peter stumbles, pushing Deadpool in the chest and dropping into one of the chairs by the waiting window. 

“You’re a pig.”

Deadpool hums a satisfied tune, grinning like the cat who caught the canary, if the cat were cheshire. 

“In a charming way?”

“Pool, what sort of pig is charming other than a literal pig?”

Deadpool seems to think on it, opening his mouth just to shut it right after. 

“You got me there.”

A boy calls out his name and Peter collects their drinks, handing Deadpool his monstrosity before diving into his own drink with a happy hum. 

He doesn’t let himself indulge in treats often, even though he technically has extra income now. 

“Could you make that noise again, I’m trying to commit it to memory for later.”

Peter elbows Deadpool in the ribs and smirks when the merc doubled over with a wheeze. 

“Is that a no?”

Peter tugs on Deadpool’s arm, leading them out of the shop. “That's a ‘you have to earn the next one’.”

Deadpool whispers a string of expletives. “Parker, you are a wet dream walking.”

He hums a noncommittal noise. “Boring wet dream.”

…

Peter groans into his pillow in his lap, curled in a ball as MJ pats his back.

She’s been over so often lately she practically lives here.

“There, there. Sorrows, sorrows. Prayers.”

Peter lifts his head with puppy dog eyes. “Don’t quote Bridgerton when I'm in crisis.”

MJ has a pink sucker this time. “I’m not. That’s Queen Charlotte, put some respect on her name.”

“Are you missing the part where I’m freaking out?”

MJ scrolls up on her phone, raising an eyebrow. “I have a front row seat, I’m not missing anything.”

“MJ, help me!”

“Oh my god.”

She turns her phone off and flips it onto the bed. “What are you upset about? Being flirted with and wooed by the guy you’ve been pining over for literal years?”

“Yes.”

She twirls her lollipop before shifting it to the side of her cheek, reaching over him to grab something off his side table.

“What are you doing?”

She has his phone in hand. “Rolling over this little gay panic of a speedbump, full throttle.”

Peter doesn’t quite get what she means until he sees her typing out a text.

Deadpool had ended their little coffee outing by giving Peter his number and Peter had been freaking out ever since, to text or not to text.

He trips over his pillow trying to snag his phone away from MJ’s little thieving racoon hands, failing when she pulls her arm out of reach and slides off the bed.

He tumbles out of bed to chase after her.

“Don’t you dare!”

She laughs and it’s bright and mean.

“Winky face or no winky face?”

“Mary Jane Watson!”

“Oo, full names, we’re serious now. Peter Benjamin Parker. Look, I can play too.”

She’s on the opposite side of his couch, grinning at him in a way that says everything. His phone hangs from her hand where her arms are crossed.

“You already sent it, didn’t you?”

“Yup.”

Peter grabs the couch and whines his frustration. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best. You’re welcome.”

She tosses him his phone and Peter doesn’t even look up as he catches it.

He unlocks it and holds his breath as he reads it.

Peter: Hey, big guy, wanna come over?(;

“I don’t use capitals, you monster!”

MJ snickers from his bedroom, coming back in with her own phone to jump over the couch and sprawl out, looking up at him with a shit-eating grin.

“That doesn’t really matter. The question is whether or not he’s interested.”

Peter’s phone buzzes and her grin widens. His eye twitches.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“You love me.”

Peter grabs one of the couch pillows and shoves it over her face.

Deadpool: omg, bb boy, is this a bootycall? I’m tots omw, no take backsies

Peter’s brows scrunch in confusion until he clicks on Deadpools icon and realizes MJ shared his fucking location with Deadpool.

“You shared my location with him?”

“Our location.”

“MJ!”

“Peter!”

“Why are you like this?”

“Probably childhood trauma. You should change.”

Peter looks down at his work slacks and button-up shirt. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“You look like a nerd.”

“I am a nerd,” He grumbles, making his way to his bedroom to change.

Peter: i hate to tell you this

Peter: but my friend sent that

Peter: no bootycall

He pulls out a soft black body t-shirt and comfy gray sweatpants and his phone buzzes with the shirt halfway on, tight across his shoulders that seem to grow more muscle every year.

He yanks the shirt down and grabs his phone.

Deadpool: boooo

Deadpool: so no head?

Peter chuckles and types out a response.

Peter: sorry, pool, not happening

Peter: you’re still welcome to come over

Peter: just be warned that my friend is here and she’s a bit…abrasive for new people to handle?

Peter: but she’s amazing

Deadpool: no sweat, pumpkin

Deadpool: no booty, but i get to meet the family already? i’m honored!

Peter: you’re just as embarrassing over text, has anyone ever told you that?

Deadpool: no, but i’ve been told i’m just as good as sex over text(;

Peter: keep dreaming

Deadpool: i will, trust me 😍🥴💞

Peter shoves his phone in his pocket and moves back towards the living room, crossing his arms as he stands over MJ, trying to scowl through his twitching mouth.

“I hate you, you know that?’

“Mhm. I’m ordering Thai, how much can your man put away?”

Peter huffs, falling back into the couch, slinging his legs over MJ’s.

“As much as I can, if not more.”

“Hot.”

Peter kicks her in the hip lightly and she laughs.

“Will you get spring rolls?”

“Don’t I always?”

He grins, hanging his head off the side of the armchair. 

“Thanks, MJ. You’re off my shit list.”

“I wouldn’t do that just yet.”

…

A knock sounds on the door and Peter is absorbed in a video when MJ nudges him with her foot.

“Food’s here.”

He hums and gets up, walking towards the door and throwing it open before he looks up.

 “Hi! I-”

Deadpool is standing there, several bags of food in hand. “Thai Taste, we deliver, you taste it.”

Deadpool winks at the end of his made-up catch phrase and Peter finds himself letting out a startled laugh.

“You didn’t have to grab all that, you know.”

Peter opens the door wider to let Deadpool in, rustling bags and katanas in tow.

He dumps the bags on the table and MJ doesn’t look up.

“Funny delivery person?”

“The funniest,” Deadpool responds.

MJ lifts her head and looks him up and down. “They do take-out make-out now?”

Peter shakes his head as Deadpool grins. These two in one room is going to be a disaster.

“It’s on the menu for select vip clients only.”

“Hear that, Peter? You’re vip clientele.”

Peter crouches down to begin unpacking. “I’m honored.”

“Damn right you are, Sweet Cheeks.”

Peter shoots Deadpool a look and throws a pair of chopsticks at his face. Deadpool catches them with ease

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

“So will you,” Peter quips.

…

They get all the take-out unpacked and dig in. 

MJ and Deadpool reach a rather scary immediate understanding of each other, and they spend the first half hour bullshitting and talking about random things.

It takes five minutes of reassurance from both Peter and MJ before Deadpool rolls his mask up just enough to eat.

It takes all Peter’s restraint to keep from blurting out that he’s already familiar with Deadpool’s face and has no aversion towards it.

He loves the strong line of Deadpool’s jaw, his expressive mouth, the shifting scars that he always attempts to catalog even when he knows they’ll be different the next time he sees them.

Deadpool suggests they play Cards against Humanity and when Peter laments the fact that he doesn’t own it, Deadpool pulls the full boxed set from a pouch at his back and Peter stares a bit too long.

“Do you keep everything on you at all times?”

“Nearly!”

Peter eyes the pouches around his waist for a moment and shrugs.

They play several rounds before MJ and Deadpool team up on him for being ‘too tame’ with his answers. Peter goes for simple funny and the two assholes in front of him go for crude, dirty, offensive humor.

He shoves a spring roll in his mouth and chews to think it over.

“Fine, but you can’t judge me.”

“Oh we’re gonna judge the fuck out of you, Peter.”

MJ pulls the next black card that just reads Alter boys: and Deadpool immediately snickers and puts a card down.

Peter looks at his cards and knows if he were playing to make himself laugh he’d put down A lifetime of religious trauma , but if he’s gonna make MJ and Deadpool laugh? It’s gotta be Bet you can't have just one .

It makes him cringe, but he puts it down anyway.

MJ looks away while Deadpool shuffles the cards and the first card she pulls reads A sad handjob and Peter has to keep from gasping and staring at Deadpool in horror, because holy shit, but the card he’s put down is no better.

MJ flips his card and she’s silent for a second before she bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god, you’re both sick. This one wins, though. Just a bit more fucked up.”

She’s holding up his card and Peter takes the black card with shame.

“This game is the worst.”

“This game is the best.” MJ and Deadpool parrot at the same time, high fiving each other as Peter rolls his eyes.

Peter judges next, a card that says Thanks to the sharing economy, I can now make money renting out my____.

The two cards he flips over say Anal beads and Grandma.

Peter just knows Deadpool played the first one.

“These are both disgusting.”

“That’s the point, my angelic little prude.”

“I’m not a prude,” He protests.

MJ leans over to Deadpool and whispers ‘doth protest too much, methinks’ and she and Deadpool giggle amongst themselves.

Peter takes a pea from the leftover fried rice and launches it at Deadpool’s face.

Sharp teeth catch it out of the air and Peter swallows thickly, eyeing Deadpool’s mouth.

Deadpool is watching him with what appears to be a knowing look and Peter turns his face away from the heat behind the gaze to find MJ quickly tucking her phone away.

He blinks at her. “Are you recording me?”

She takes a sip of her drink, smiling around the straw. “I’ve been recording the whole time.”

“Dude, why?”

She shrugs, “For your page, duh. People love seeing casual content. Everything is so manufactured nowadays, give them a break from it.”

Peter glances at Deadpool and finds the man has rolled his mask back down.

Peter’s heart pangs.

“Don’t post that. You didn’t get Pool’s permission.”

Deadpool’s shoulder’s un-slump and his posture changes immediately. “Huh? No, I’m cool with it. Post away.”

“You sure, Pool? You don’t have to agree to-”

“Wade.”

Peter blinks, “I’m sorry?”

“My name. Wade Wilson. Now you know what to scream in bed.”

He winks and MJ snickers, holding up a hand for a high five.

Wade. Wade Wilson.

Peter shakes himself, “You’d have to get me in bed first.”

Deadpool- Wade, grins. “Is that a challenge?”

Peter doesn’t answer and MJ nods at Wade.

They return to their game and MJ is less sneaky this time as she records it. Peter tries not to act too awkward now that he knows there’s a camera on him and he tries even harder not to flirt with Wade.

Wade never got that memo, though. If anything, he flirts harder.

The sun starts to set and eventually even MJ and Wade get bored with making Peter blush and sputter over their cards and they all settle into the couch or floor to watch movies, sprawling across one another in a way that feels natural and comfortable.

Peter lets Wade and MJ fight over what movies they watch, offering a grunt of agreement every now and then until they finally decide on one they both like.

They put on a Barbie movie first, one Peter’s never seen, and Wade spends the first five minutes going off about how it’s the best movie to exist until Peter reaches over and puts his hand over Wade’s mouth.

“Shut up, Wade, I can’t hear the song you claim is revolutionary to an entire generation.”

Wade grins beneath his mouth and uses Peter’s arm to pull him closer, slinging an arm around his waist and Peter doesn’t breath for several minutes.

He certainly doesn’t hear whatever revolutionary song the two Barbie character’s sing.

Wade rubs little circles against his hip and Peter thinks it’s meant to be comforting but it’s just riling him up, hyperfocused on that patch of skin.

Wade’s fingers never really stop moving, tapping little beats against his skin, drawing circles or little patterns, but by the third movie he can’t help but sink into it, eyelids heavy.

Ratatouille is playing on the screen and Peter has seen it so many times he nods off, head drooping onto the back of the couch several times before he gives in and snuggles into Wade’s side and leans back, sighing into the heat Wade always exudes.

He’s almost drifted off to sleep when he hears MJ whispering. She whispers for shit.

“That’s so fucking cute.”

Wade shifts slightly. “I’m trying not to literally explode right now. In every sense, if you know what I mean.”

MJ snorts, “Too much information, you horn dog.”

“He’s wearing gray sweatpants! And this shirt leaves nothing to the imagination, which is saying something, because my imagination goes hard.”

“Not the only thing.”

“See, you get me.”

“Hold still, I’m gonna take a video. He’s gonna hate me when he wakes up.”

Wade and MJ snicker and Peter manages a small groan of protest.

“I just died and went to heaven, that was the cutest thing ever. You guys seeing this?”

There’s a hand pinching his cheek and Peter whines, wanting nothing more than to be left alone so he can sleep.

Wade whisper-squeals.

There’s a moment of silence, where he assumes MJ has put her phone away. Wade shifts towards her again.

He asks her a question and MJ responds and Peter sighs against the bicep his face is pressed against, content. Their voices blur to background noise and he finally slips into sleep.

…

His apartment is dark when he wakes up and Peter rubs his eyes, blinking at the glare from the TV and Wade’s phone.

MJ isn’t on the couch and he makes a noise of confusion.

Wade looks up, tossing his phone to the side. “Hey there, my little sleepy prince.”

“Not little,” He grumbles, sitting up. “Where’s MJ?”

“She went home.”

Peter wakes up fully at that, “She left?”

Wade nods, arm slung over the seat of the couch. “Yup.” He pops the p loudly.

“And you…stayed?”

Wade’s eyes widen. “She said it would be fine. Do you want me to leave?”

He doesn’t even wait for Peter to answer, already halfway off the floor before Peter grabs his wrist.

“No, it’s fine. You can stay.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.”

Wade nods, half-standing, looking awkward.

“Wade.”

“Yeah?”

“You can sit back down, dumbass.”

Wade does, slowly, like he’s going to spook Peter.

Peter wonders with his sleep-addled mind what Wade would do if he just crawled into his lap.

I mean, it would eliminate the need for confessing anything, right? Sitting in someone’s lap kind of says everything.

He gives himself two seconds to think before he does, sliding his legs out from beneath the blanket he’s wrapped in to slip over Wade’s thighs, hovering.

“This okay?” He asks.

Wade’s lenses are as wide as he’s ever seen them, swallowing Peter up.

“Um. Yeah. Perfect. I’m quite literally living my dream.”

Peter settles in Wade’s lap, smiling shyly. “You sure? Wouldn’t you rather I were a certain spider?”

“No.”

Wade doesn’t even hesitate and Peter believes him, with Wade’s hands coming to ever-so-gently rest at his hips, staring at him like he can't quite comprehend why Peter’s where he’s at.

Peter leans in, “Are you wondering why I like you, Wade?”

“Oh, absolutely. From day one.”

Peter takes a deep breath and flattens a hand against Wade’s chest. “This is why.”

Wade flexes his chest, “The muscles? Valid.”

Peter laughs, finger’s twitching. “No, that’s just a bonus. I mean this.” He taps a finger on Wade’s chest, right over his heart. “Your heart. Who you are.”

“I really hate to ruin a good thing, but I’m not a good person, Peter. Quite the opposite.”

Peter doesn’t know the best way to reply, because Wade only knows half of him, and he doesn’t know this half well from his point of view.

Peter taps his finger again, thinking, before he takes a deep breath and goes for it.

“Wade, I can’t explain how long I’ve been watching you from afar. I’ve seen how you’ve grown and changed to become a better person when anyone else in your predicament would have never. You went through unimaginable horrors and you did what was necessary at the time. Now, you try to do better. You help people that no one else wants to. You saved a kid from a burning building the other day and died from it. You funnel a huge portion of your money into charities and public funding that everyone else has given up on and you don’t say a thing about it online. You make sure Ellie has everything she needs and you give her space when she needs it without holding it against her. You are so much kinder than anyone gives you credit for. You pretend to be this big bad killing machine, but there’s not a single time you’ve ever pushed the boundaries of consent and you tip customer service workers in hundreds and Wade, I see you .”

Wade is silent for a long minute and Peter’s sure form the way his fingers are digging into his hips that he’s about to throw Peter off and bolt or pull a gun on him.

Instead, he reaches up, very slowly, and rolls his mask up, inch by inch, pausing under his nose and Peter’s sure that’s where he’s going to stop until he grabs the back and yanks it off.

Peter doesn’t mean to gasp, but Wade has never taken his mask off around him in all the years they’ve known each other and he’s so much more beautiful than Peter expected, high cheekbones and blue eyes and features Peter can read like a book, soul bared.

“Yeah, I know.”

Wade is leaning back, face turned away and Peter just knows what he’s thinking, so he grabs Wade’s face and pulls him forward, brushing their lips together before kissing him.

He pulls back, just enough to see Wade’s eyes.

“Is that okay?”

Wade’s face is crumpled in pained confusion. “Well, yeah, but-”

Peter presses a short, sweet kiss to his mouth. “No buts.”

“But-”

Peter raises his eyebrows and Wade trails off, mouth twitching a bit.

“Are you sure?”

Peter smiles, delighted. “Very.”

Wade sucks in a harsh breath before he lets it out, hands relaxing on Peter’s hips. “I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve this, but I’m gonna take it and run.”

He leans in to kiss Peter, tentative, and Peter melts into it, ignoring the glaringly obvious fact hanging over his head. That’s a problem for a later day Peter.

They make-out on the floor of his living room like teenagers until Pete can’t take anymore, dragging Wade to the bedroom.

It’s perfect and sweet and a little raunchy, because it’s Deadpool- Wade, and Peter doesn’t have to explain that being trans means he has different anatomy than what Wade’s expecting because Wade kisses him silly, proclaiming that as long as Peter isn’t built like a Ken doll he can work with anything.

It’s perfect.

Until it isn’t

…

Peter wakes with a warm fuzziness in his head, stretching and reaching out for Wade beside him and finding empty, cold sheets.

He lifts himself up and stares at the empty side of his bed where Wade lay just hours before.

Peter sits up fully and turns on his bedside lamp, finding a note on the nightstand.

He picks it up and squints to focus his eyes, still adjusting to the light.

Peter,

I’m sorry I had to leave, but I was thinking after last night and I can’t help but feel like a piece of shit, because I let the fact that no one’s flirted with me in years get in the way of the fact that I’m already in love with someone. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I’m sorry it took until now to figure it out. You deserve someone who will love you fully and completely, and that can’t be me.

Take care, Peter

-Wade

It takes him a moment to focus past the blurring in his eyes, the ringing in his ears and when he looks down at the note it’s crumpled in his hand.

He let’s go, smoothing it out before he grabs his phone, punching in the number.

It rings four times before a groggy voice picks up.

“Peter? It’s four in the morning.”

“Wade and I had sex.”

MJ grunts, “That’s great, now fuck off.”

“Read this.”

He turns the video option on and angles his camera at the note, putting it in the ring of lamplight.

MJ takes several minutes to read and then reread the note before she groans and gets up, hair a wild mess of curls. “Christ.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, at least the person he’s in love with is also you?”

“MJ, he slept with me and left in the middle of the night.”

“Well…”

“No, correction, he quite literally made love to me and treated me better than any bed partner I’ve ever had, and then he left in the middle of the night.”

“I feel like at least half of this problem could be solved if you just told him you were Spiderman.”

“He left!” Peter yells, voice cracking.

MJ is silent on the other end before she sighs. “I know, Pete, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You already know what I’d tell you to do.”

Peter sets the note down. “Yeah, I know.”

“It’s up to you, Peter.”

And that’s the problem.

…

Peter has spent half his patrol aggressively ignoring the normal spots he and Deadpool typically roam, using the tallest buildings for lookout, swinging around every other minute and looking over his shoulder.

Unfortunately, Deadpool is a persistent mother fucker who seems to know Peter is ignoring him.

Peter is helping a young couple lift heavy furniture into their new apartment when Deadpool calls out from across the street.

“Spidey! Been looking everywhere for you!”

Peter grumbles and ducks into the apartment door to place the bed- frame, mattress and boxspring- inside their bedroom.

“You two need anything else moved in? I don’t mind helping with boxes.”

The shorter one, with pink hair and rosy cheeks, beams at him. “No thank you! I think your boyfriend is looking for you, though? The one in red?”

Peter scowls and is grateful for once that his mask covers it.

He laughs, tilting his head. “No, not my boyfriend, just my patrol partner. Thanks for the heads up! Have a great night and congrats on the new apartment!”

The couple waves at him as he ducks out and he sneaks down the left side of the walkway, looking around before dropping to the ground.

“Spidey!”

He curses, webbing himself to the closest building and yanking himself up.

Deadpool calls after him in confusion and his chest feels tight, guilty for ignoring his friend/partner/crush. 

“Go away, Wade.” He mumbles under his breath, darting across the rooftop and lunging at the last step to propel himself across the gap between the buildings, landing without even a slight stumble and continuing until there’s too much space between buildings, closing the gap with a well-placed web.

He stops after ten blocks, sure Wade can’t catch up, ducking between a rooftop door and the rumbling building ac unit, panting as he drops down into the tight space.

He hasn’t even pushed himself past his physical limits, but his breathing comes in short bursts as he struggles with combing through his hectic thoughts to find calm.

He sits for twenty minutes before he makes himself get up, brushing off his suit.

He can get in another hour or two of patrolling, if he ignores the setting sun.

“Spidey?”

Peter curses, whipping around and crouching low, a panic response.

It’s just Deapool, looking as forlorn as he’s ever seen him.

“Are, uh…are you ignoring me?”

Fuck.

‘Yes, I am’, he wants to say, but he’s not Peter Parker right now, so how would that ever make sense?

He stands, laughing awkwardly. “Course not, Pool.”

“Okay,” Deadpool kicks a small pebble. “I, um, I hung out with Peter the other day.”

Peter’s spine stiffens, he can’t help it. “Oh yeah? How’d it go?”

Deadpool sinks to the roof, sitting cross legged and patting the space next to him.

Peter makes his way over carefully, inhaling before he drops into the spot next to Deadpool, crouching on the balls of his feet.

“We’ll?”

Deadpool shrugs, “It went great. He’s great.”

“Mhm. But?”

Deadpool hangs his head and drops it into his hands. “Spidey, I fucked up.”

Peter is still, so still, feeling like he’ll crack if he moves to comfort Deadpool. “How?”

Deadpool pulls his head out of his head to look at Peter. “He invited me over, well, his best friend invited me over, but he said it was okay. It was really fun, honestly, I haven’t had anyone to hang out with for years and I don’t really count Weasel since he’s a massive dick half the time and drunk the other half.”

Peter hums, gesturing for him to continue.

“We ate Thai and watched movies and he ended up falling asleep on me and it was really sweet, you know. And then his friend left and he woke up later and…God, Spidey, I’m the worst person. I don’t even mean murder and questionable morals.”

Peter finds himself looking at the sunset. “Pool, you’re stalling.”

“I had sex with him, Spidey.”

Deadpool whispers it like he’s confessing a sin.

“Yeah? Was it bad?”

Deadpool jerks back a bit and he scrubs a hand over his face. “What? No, that’s not…Spidey, I left after. I got caught up in someone showing me affection for the first time in forever and I took advantage of it and it wasn’t until I was laying next to him that I really started to think. And I realized how bad I fucked up because I used him when I love someone else.”

Now would be the perfect time, MJ would likely say, to confess to Wade, to pull his mask off, reveal everything, attempt to patch things up.

But Peter is hurt and a little angry and feeling scorned.

“Yeah, you did. That’s really fucked up, Pool.”

Deadpool blinks, looking at him with surprise.

Like, of course he believed what he was saying, but he had expected a different answer from Spiderman, who always lifted him up, always believed in him.

“Oh fuck...Fuck.” Wade crosses his hands over his mouth and guilt starts to trickle in. “God, Spidey, I really am irredeemable.”

Peter doesn’t want to waste his dwindling energy comforting Deadpool for something he’s been hurt over, but Deadpool is still his friend and has no idea how two-fold his actions turned out to be.

“You’re not irredeemable, W-” He coughs, violently, choking on the trapped consonant that nearly formed a name he’s not supposed to know.

Deadpool slaps his back with concern. “You good?”

He waves Deadpool off. “I’m fine. I was just saying you’re not irredeemable. Just…you made a mistake. One that has ramifications.”

Deadpool slumps, “I know. What do you think I should do?”

Peter shrugs, “Apologize?”

Deadpool twiddles his fingers. “Okay… what about…the person I like? What should I do about them?”

Peter has no fucking idea.

“That’s up to you, Pool.”

Peter has to leave, all of the sudden, immediately. He swings off the building, passing traffic crawling below and if his mask starts to grow wet beneath his eyes he can ignore it from up here.

…

Peter spends the next few weeks going out of his way to change his schedule as both Peter and Spiderman.

He goes to the subway two hours early so he can film and get to work early, grabbing breakfast on the way in.

He ignores the shape of red from across the platform.

Spiderman goes out earlier, or later, patrolling different neighborhoods and it’s so out of character people are starting to notice, writing twitter articles and commenting on his Spiderman tiktok about it,

He ignores them.

He tells MJ he doesn’t want company when she calls or he sends her to voicemail and he feels like absolute shit for doing it, but he’s a nervous breakdown away from losing it and she’ll call him out on it immediately.

He works later, offering to do things without doing overtime and it’s illegal but his boss, a kind older asian woman, seems to sense whatever turmoil he’s going through and allows it.

He’s taking on riskier jobs when he patrols and at first he doesn’t notice it, assuming things are just different without Deadpool by his side.

When he ends up nearly crushed in half by a flying car hurled at him by a mutated man going crazy after his wife left, MJ puts her foot down.

“You’re acting like an idiot. Talk to Wade, Peter.”

“Mj…”

“Now.”

“I will. Soon, okay? I just need a bit more time.”

Peter goes out even though he’s already been on patrol and it’s four in the morning, the exact time he woke up and found Wade had left. 

His mind is going in circles and his heart won’t stop racing and he can’t sleep, so he gets up and pulls on his suit and he goes looking for trouble so his brain will quiet down.

He finds trouble in a group of street thugs.

He webs their guns to the walls of the alley and makes them fight him by hand. He pulls his punches and doesn’t dodge when they hit back.

He grins when they pull out knives and his blood sings for a different reason, electric.

He limps home, nursing broken ribs and a fractured wrist, bruises forming on every inch of skin and gashes of every size decorating his suit.

He crawls through his living room window with a few hushed curses, yanking his mask off to suck in a deep breath, wincing at the pain when it jostles his ribs.

He drops the mask and reaches back to undo the zipper, pulling it down gently. His suit is sticking to several spots and it’s going to be a bitch to get off.

He’s not sure what alerts him to the presence, a quiet movement or a shift in the air, but he stiffens, alert, with his suit halfway off.

His eyes dart around the room and land on a patch of darkness that’s darker than the rest.

His eyes focus the exact moment he speaks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…Spidey?”

It’s Deadpool. Wade. Standing in the corner of his kitchen, hands raised like Peter is going to jump at him.

Oh holy fucking shit.

“Wade, what are you doing here?”

Wade steps forward and his mask is off. “I came to apologize to Peter, to you, but he, you, weren’t here. I got worried and called MJ. She said to wait for you.”

“So you decided creepily standing in the dark in my kitchen was the best way to do it?”

“You’re Spiderman.”

Peter laughs and it feels like crying. “Yeah.”

“ You’re Spiderman.”

“Is that a problem?” He snaps.

Wade steps closer and the moonlight spills over him and Peter can see agony written across his face with something like hope blooming in his eyes.

“No,” He whispers softly, so soft.

“Well, what if it’s a problem for me?”

Peter didn’t mean to say it like a confession wrapped in an accusation.

Wade’s face crumples and Peter’s never seen him stripped so bare, so completely raw and open and it hurts to look at.

“Peter, I’m sorry.”

“So it’s Peter now? Not Spidey?”

“You’re the same person.”

Peter flings his hands out. “I wasn’t before! You only found out by accident and you’re acting like you didn’t rip my heart out when you left!”

Wade flinches away from the yelling until Peter starts crying, hands over his face. Wade inches closer, hands up.

“Peter, I liked you so much as Peter, but I knew I was wrong to start anything with you when I couldn’t give you 100% of my heart.”

“Because you love Spiderman.”

Wade nods, “I do.”

Peter’s eyes burn. “And I’m in love with you . I have been for years.”

“I didn’t know, baby boy.” Wade says, voice still so soft.

It pisses Peter off to hear.

“I wanted to keep you safe!” He screams before he quiets, aware of the time and how thin his apartment walls are.

Wade shakes his head. “I don’t understand. There’s nothing that can hurt me, Pete.”

Peter scrubs at his eyes, pressing his palms to his eyes until he sees spots. “You don’t understand. They would rip you to shreds, they would judge everything about you and they would ruin everything. Wade, they could find out about Ellie and use her against you.”

“But isn’t that my risk to take?”

Peter lowers his hands. “What?”

Wade is close now, inches away. “That’s my decision to make, Peter. I know your instincts tell you that you need to protect everyone and take every blow for them, but it’s not true. You’re allowed to give over some of that control and let someone take care of you for a change.”

Wade’s hand comes up to cradle his jaw, more gentle than anything Peter has ever felt and he sinks into it.

Wade rubs a thumb over his cheek, just below one of the bigger knife wounds, slashing close enough to his eye to almost worry about.

“You’re pretty beat up tonight.”

Peter tries for a nonchalant smile. “It happens.”

Wade gives him a knowing look. “Let me patch you up.”

“Okay.”

…

Peter pulls his suit off with more than a few hisses of pain, yanking when it sticks, until it lays in a pile on the floor.

Wade is digging around in the cabinets beneath the sink for his first aid kit and pops up with it in hand.

“Got it!” Wade turns to him with a triumphant smile. “Holy shit.”

Peter very carefully does not fidget.

Wade’s eyes drop down before he looks up, clearing his throat. “So you go commando under the suit?”

“Yup.”

“Cool, cool. Good to know.”

Wade is pulling out different packages and lining them up on the counter and not looking at Peter even once.

“Wade?”

“Yes! That’s me.”

“Are you nervous?”

Wade’s hands still, fingers twitching. “Uh, honestly? Yeah. You're naked and also bleeding out from several wounds and if your breathing is any indication, you have a few broken ribs.”

“Also a fractured wrist.” Peter steps closer, until he’s in Wade’s space. “Are you gonna take care of me, Doctor?”

Wade full-body shivers. “Jesus christ, Petey, how’d you know I have a medical kink? We gonna play Doctor?”

Peter places a hand on the counter and reaches out a finger to tilt Wade’s chin up, forcing him to look at him.

“I’m sure you have a kink for anything I do, if the past few years are any indication.”

Wade is white-knuckling the counter. “You’re not wrong.”

“Well?” Peter asks, propping a hip against the counter. “What do you need me to do, Doctor?”

Wade audibly gulps before shaking his head like a dog. “No, bad Wade. Okay, why don’t you rinse off? It’ll make it easier to see if anything needs stitches.”

Peter hums, mildly disappointed. “Alright. You don’t think I need help, Doctor?”

Wade gives him a look like a man at his wits end. “I think you’ll manage on your own.”

“I usually do. Doesn’t mean a little help isn’t as fun.”

He turns and bends to turn the water on and Wade groans.

Peter grins to himself.

He looks back over his shoulder. “Last chance.”

Wade puts a hand over his eyes. “Uh-uh, get in the shower, you minx. You need first aid.”

Peter rolls his eyes but does as he’s told, wincing when the hot water washes over him, stinging every little cut and pounding against every bruise.

The water runs red with specks of dirt and gravel for several minutes before it finally turns clear and Peter turns the water off, dripping for a moment before throwing the curtain open.

Wade looks up from his phone on instinct and his eyes go wide before his face crumples into want and desire .

It’s flattering, even if he’s still a little bit mad at Wade.

He grabs his towel and gently pats himself dry, aware of Wade’s eyes on him the entire time, trailing the water drops that fall from his hair and cut paths down his body.

Peter scruffs the towel over his hair before hanging it up and jumping up on the counter.

“Your patient is ready, Doctor Wilson.”

Wade’s eyes flash before he pulls the supplies closer, grumbling.

Peter hears the word ‘tease’.

If Wade thinks he’s teasing now, he’s got another thing coming.

Peter had thought of it in the shower, his plan to get back at Wade in a way that left him feeling vindicated while also serving both of them in the long run.

“Here, Doctor, I’ll show you where it hurts.”

Peter spreads his thighs on the counter before grabbing Wade by the back of the neck and pulling him between his legs, face first. He lets Wade get an eyeful before tilting his chin up.

“Up here, Doctor.”

Peter taps the side of his face as Wade sucks in a ragged inhale, shuddering.

Wade places a hand on his thigh, warm and steady, before bringing an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball to his cheek.

It stings, but Peter’s taken so many hits in the past years that it feels like nothing.

Wade continues his ministrations, eyes leveled only where he’s working, hands moving with ease and Peter’s not too surprised because they’ve had to do patch-ups in the past, after bad patrols,

But Wade has moved from taping his ribs to swabbing at the cuts on his stomach. 

“This is gonna need stitches,” Wade says, tapping a gash on his hip that’s still bleeding sluggishly. 

Peter hums and starts to scoot forward on the counter before Wade’s hand stops him. 

“Oop, let’s be careful Mr. Parker.”

Wade grabs his hips and yanks until Peter’s ass is half off the counter before pushing on his chest until he falls, catching himself on his elbows with a small ‘oof’. 

Wade has a small smirk on his face as he pulls out a needle and sutures. 

His hands are warm on Peter’s side and he sinks into it, sighing.

“That feel good?”

Peter smiles, eyes closed. “Yes, Doctor.”

Wade’s hands fumble a bit and it jerks the needle in his hands and Peter hisses through his laughter.

“I swear to god if you don’t stop I’m gonna fuck you on the bathroom counter, bleeding or not.”

Peter chuckles, “Oh yeah?”

Wade’s eyes are dark, the blue almost entirely swallowed up by black. “Don’t push me, Peter. Please.”

“But it’s so fun.”

Wade chooses to ignore him, sewing up his side quickly before he moves to the cuts along his legs. He starts at the bottom, like if he ignores it, by the time he reaches Peter’s thighs everything will be healed. 

Peter trails his fingers across Wade’s head, drawing patterns against his skin. “This is familiar.”

Wade was very good with his mouth.

Wade sighs and presses his forehead to Peter’s calf. “Peter.”

“Yes?”

“You’re making this very hard.”

“Am I? I think I could help with that.”

Wade slaps his uninjured thigh and Peter bares his teeth. 

Wade’s eyes flicker with amusement. “Not so fun, is it, darling?”

It is, but Peter won’t admit it.

“‘M gonna sew up your thigh now, okay? Don’t be a little shit and maybe I’ll give you a treat after?”

“Oh yeah?” Peter hums, “Maybe a sweet lollipop to suck on?”

“That was so cheesy porno, Petey-pie.”

Peter laughs and his shoulders unknot just a little. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Wade sews up the wound quickly, snipping off the excess suture when he’s done and brushing his thumb to the side of the wound. 

“You really need to be more careful, Spidey.”

Peter sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. “Okay.”

Wade smiles at him and it’s a little sad.

“I think I was promised a treat?” Peter teases, just to see Wade’s smile turn genuine and hungry.

“You sure about that? Because I’m dying to eat you out right now.”

“Oh no, what an awful threat. Please don’t.” He deadpans. 

Wade sets a hand at Peter’s thigh and pulls himself up, pulling Peter in for a kiss that’s sweet and soft until Peter bites at Wade’s lip. 

Wade makes a growling noise in his chest and yanks at Peter’s hair. “If you weren’t beat up I’d spank you right now. God knows I’ve imagined putting my hand to your ass for years.”

Peter tilts his head and Wade takes the hint, skimming kisses down his throat. “I wouldn’t say no.”

Wade sucks a hickey against his pulse and pulls away with a wet noise. “You literally have broken ribs right now, I’m not spanking you.”

“Rain check?”

“Deal.”

Wade trails his kisses down, gentle against his bruised skin, and stops when he gets to the patch of curls trailing down Peter’s stomach and between his thighs. 

His breath comes out in hot puffs over Peter’s cunt and Peter shivers, scratching his fingers over Wade’s shoulders. 

“You’re teasing.”

Wade makes an ‘o’ with his mouth and blows a puff of cold air and Peter’s face warms at how it exposes how wet he feels. 

“Wade…”

“Yes, sweetheart?” His fingers trail up Peter’s left thigh, the mostly uninjured side.

“You either do something or I’m getting off the counter and I’m putting on clothes.”

Wade doesn’t bother responding, just dives forward, hands lifting Peter by the backs off his thighs until his ass is off the counter, face buried between his legs and Peter throws his head back with a content sigh. 

“Thank god.”

Wade chuckles and it sends vibrations through him. 

Peter didn’t last long the first time Wade used his mouth on him, and he doesn’t expect to last long now. 

Wade licks up each side of his lips before his mouth latches onto Peter’s clit. 

He’s gentle at first, pressing little kisses and licks against Peter, dipping his tongue down to lick up the slick Peter’s producing. 

Peter’s head thunks back into the mirror as Wade speeds up, tongue circling in patterns, humming and sucking and driving him crazy. 

“God, Wade, your mouth.”

Wade chuckles and Peter jerks. 

“Fuck you, don’t do that.”

Wade laughs at him harder, mouth suctioned to his dick and going to town like he’s a man dying of thirst and Peter’s offered him the last drop of water. Desperate. 

Peter chokes on a groan. “You deserve an award for this. Honest to god. Best mouth award goes to Wade Wilson.”

Wade pulls back with a disgustingly wet noise. “If you’re still talking, I’m not doing that great.”

Peter slumps, thighs shaking, and grins at Wade. “Then do better.”

Wade takes him up on that offer and by the time he’s done Peter is flat on the counter, panting, his lower half being held up completely by Wade. 

“You look amazing like this, you know? If I could have you orgasm-drunk beneath me all day, trust me, I would.”

Peter waves a hand at him. “Shut it. You’re ruining my post-orgasm glow.”

Wade bends down over him and presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make it up with another.”

Peter wrinkles his nose, wiping at his cheek and holding his arms up. “If you get me up and into bed you can do whatever you want.”

“Ohhh, Petey-pie, don’t make promises you’re not ready for.”

Wade is true to his word, because Peter was not ready for the following three hours. 

He has to call out of work. 

He also calls MJ and tells her the update, with Wade shouting hi from the background. His hands start to wander about five minutes in and Peter slaps at his hands until he gives up and promises to call MJ back later. She hangs up without complaint when Wade starts whispering what he wants to do to Peter in a very shit whisper. 

…

It takes them the next week to work through things, talking about their issues between bouts of sex that really do nothing to help Peter’s ribs heal. 

He can’t find it in himself to care, when he’s the happiest he’s ever been. 

The only thing left to figure out is how they’re going to come out with it. 

MJ is convinced if they just post about it that people will accept it without batting an eye, with the appearances Wade has been making on Peter’s page lately. 

Peter takes a month to think about it, planning through what all could go wrong, how people could react, how it could recoil on him, or Wade, or even MJ. 

In the end the choice is made for him, when Wade accidentally leaves his costume on the floor of Peter’s bedroom alongside…other things. 

It appears in the background of one of his videos for less than five seconds but it’s all any of the comments focus on. 

dragonpunk24: uh, isn’t that deadpool’s costume? did they actually hook up?

HarlowLovesSpidey: No fucking way. Deadpool got with the wrong twink😭😭

ponponpop : 🤢🤢🤢 in plain view? foul🤧

Stompswitch5: ughh fine 🫱🏻(‿¤‿)🫲🏻

Deafpool1: what i wouldn’t do to be you rn

frencheaf: come on, petey, always clean up before filming. that’s like the number one rule

mariejean: I’m not one to kinkshame, but put it away when you invite your friends over ✋

So they make an official video together and confirm the fact that they’re together and things go better than Peter’s anxiety had him convinced it would go.

Most of it is positive and between MJ and Wade they manage to keep the less positive things from reaching him. 

 Aunt May even reaches out to congratulate him, which is wonderful until she sends him a bottle of sex toy cleaner with a note about ‘safe sex toy usage’.

MJ gets a kick out of that and then she shows it to Wade and he gets the biggest kick out of it all and Peter wants to hate them but all he can do is smile

…

Two years later

…

Mercenary Deadpool caught cheating on influencer Peter Parker? 

Peter is stunned when the link is sent to him through instagram dms of all things, by none other than Sabrina Carpenter (that’s a whole other story).

Hey babe, this your man?):

He opens it in a daze, ducking into a nearby alley to click on it, shaking so much he has to try a few times.

“You better have not, Wade Wilson.”

Peter’s going to chop off his dick so many times his healing factor will give up and let Peter turn Wade into a eunuch.

The article takes forever to load and Peter nearly crushes his phone in his hands.

“Hurry the fuck up,” He growls.

It takes a full minute to load through all the side ads and pop-ups and Peter clicks them all away in frustration, skimming over the article.

Deadpool, the infamous mercenary/vigilante has been going steady with internet darling Peter Parker for two years now, but is he as in love as he seems?

Many sources have speculated for years now whether or not Deadpool and New York’s Sweetheart, Spiderman have had a thing, and it seems rumors are true.

Peter’s eyes take way too long to focus on the grainy photograph that’s below, taken at night, clearly, from what seems to be an awkward angle of a window, just barely catching the top of the building Deapool is standing on, Spiderman in hand as they’re locked in a very steamy embrace.

Peter barks out a laugh, covering his mouth to yell a quiet scream of relief.

Holy shit, he had not been ready for the alternative.

His scream tapers into more laughter and he immediately starts a three-way call with MJ and Wade.

“Hey, fucker.”

“Baby! What’s up?”

“You’re not gonna believe this.” He says.

He sends them the link.

…

“Are you sure about this?” MJ asks, looking worried.

Peter’s leg is bouncing so much Wade had actually moved away from him.

“Yes. I think. No, yeah, I’m sure.”

“This is, like…huge, Pete.”

Peter inhales, puffing his cheeks up before letting it out slowly, grabbing Wade’s hand and smiling at his two favorite people.

“I know. I’m ready though. Let’s post it.”

MJ has her phone in hand, there are two laptops open on the table, and Wade has Peter’s phone.

“Ready? 3…2…1.”

…

Sabrina Carpenter’s Taste starts and the camera pans out from a close-up shot of Peter’s face as he lip syncs along.

Oh, I leave quite an impression

Five feet to be exact

The camera pans down with the next line before it pulls back to show him standing in his own apartment.

You're wonderin' why half his clothes went missin'

My body's where they're at

MJ’s movie magic skills have him standing perfectly still as his outfit switches from Wade’s Deadpool costume to his clothes, Hello Kitty boxers and an oversized Spice Girls shirt.

Now I'm gone, but you're still layin'

Peter, in bed, facing the camera like he’s facing a lover, smiling as he sings along.

Next to me, one degree of separation

The image switches to the other side of the bed, showing Spiderman before it pans to a bird’s eye view of them next to each other (that had been another bit of fun movie magic on MJ’s part).

I heard you're back together and if that's true

Spiderman, holding hands with Deadpool, Peter watching from behind them, grinning.

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you

The camera zooms in on Deadpool leaning down to kiss Spiderman, then goes past to focus on Peter, running a finger over his lips.

If you want forever, I bet you do

Just know you'll taste me too

The camera zooms back out and it’s Peter that Spiderman is kissing.

He pins you down on the carpet

Makes paintings with his tongue 

Peter, laying on the carpet of Wade’s apartment, laying his own arms above his head, throwing his head back as the camera zooms in (That’s Wade’s favorite scene, apparently, only just above him kissing himself in suit).

Hе's funny, now all his jokes hit different

Guеss who he learned that from?

Peter is having fun in the video, playing cocksure and sexy as the scorned lover.

It’s fun to watch and he’s blown away by the graphics and the shots MJ managed to get. He looks good. He looks strong and confident and vengeful.

It ends with him in his Spiderman costume, kissing Wade in his Deadpool costume, camera zooming out and around them, showing them atop the Empire State Building (that had taken some bargaining to get).

The video ends with Wade pulling Peter’s mask off and revealing his face as he looks at the camera and sings ‘ You'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you’ and it’s the best thing he’s ever made and he got to do it with the people he cherishes.

It goes up on a Friday night and at first it takes everyone a minute to get through the muddle of confusion, but once they do the internet absolutely explodes.

Spiderman’s Identity Finally Revealed?

Peter Parker, internet influencer, is Spiderman?

Spiderman: Gay Icon?

Deadpool and Spiderman are together with Peter Parker?

The last one seems a bit confused.

He has to turn his phone off after a while to get some peace from all the chatter, dms and comments and people tagging him in everything under the sun.

Though he does check the dm from Sabrina.

I see why you asked about using the song, now!

Congrats, babes 😘 xoxo

He curls into Wade’s side and shoves his face in his boyfriend’s pecs, grinning.

“Are you happy?” Wade rumbles, smile obvious in his voice.

Peter nods.

“If you guys are gonna be disgusting I’m leaving.”

“Okay, bye, there’s the door, bitch!”

Peter nips at Wade’s nipple and Wade howls, cupping his chest with a wounded look.

“No fair! You know I have sensitive nipples.”

Peter grins and it’s a bit feral and MJ fake gags, but she stays and they spend the night attempting to get Peter drunk, dancing around his little apartment with Wade’s ‘happy’ playlist playing that’s just old 2000’s songs.

Peter knows he’s started an absolute shit fire and come tomorrow he’ll have to start doing damage control, but now? Right now he’s beyond happy.

Right now things feel like they’re meant to be.

Wade smiles at him, blue eyes sparkling as he sings 3OH!3 and Fall Out Boy at the top of his lungs and when he holds out the remote to MJ as a microphone, she laughs and sings into it, terribly off pitch.

This is his happy place and Peter wouldn’t ask for anything else.