The second Peter saw on the news that Jamesom was raving about 'that no good Spider-man' terrorizing the streets of New York, he knew that Wade had to be involved.

He just didn't know how.

Secretly, a part of him (incredibly small, he admitted it) was hoping that this was another one of Jameson's 'blame Spider-man for everything' conspiracies. The guy really had it out for him – he once even accused Spider-man for their economic recession. And for clipping his own moustache the wrong way. Peter cringed at the memory of having to listen to that rant for the entire day at the office. That also happened to be the day Jameson needed him to work overtime.

But as soon as he landed on the scene of the crime, all doubt was erased from Peter's thoughts.

Standing in the midst of chaos and panicked civilians was Deadpool, holding a gun to some guy's head as he had him raised from the ground by his collar, feet flailing and kicking wildly. Peter could see his grin through the mask. It wasn't anything like the feral snarl Wade used to wear when taking out high-end villains. But it was still enough to make the civilian wet himself, Peter noticed.

"Deadpool!"

Peter shot a web, knocking the gun out of Wade's hand before he shot another web to pull the civilian out of the way. As soon as the guy had run around the corner of the nearest building, stumbling over his own feet, the weight of his wet pants dragging him down, Peter turned his attention to Wade. "I thought we agreed - no more killing!"

"Hey now, before jumping to any conclusions here, baby boy, you need to hear me out," said Wade, hands waving in the air.

"Fine," he grit out, after a long moment of consideration. With arms crossed and back rigid, doing his best to project authority, Peter waited for Wade to start his story.

"So you know it's International Women's Week, right? Well, there were all these chicks who were having a parade - hot damn, Spidey, you should have seen some of the dresses those ladies were wearing, I mean talk about red carpet - !"

"Wade! Focus?"

"Right-e-o, Spidey-babe. So there were all these womyn - and yes, that's womyn with a 'y', you heard me right - who were taking part in the parade, and everything was going all smooth like a cucumber, 'till this one dick - our little friend who wet himself, ah, so priceless! - thought it would be super macho to start picking on the ladies. And in that parade, there was this group of babes in wheelchairs, because hello, ladies represent! And the dick bag kept on harassing them, you know? Kept on pulling on their chairs, and blocking their way, and just being all rude and ableist. He even made one lady cry, she was so frustrated! I had to step in and do something!"

Peter took a moment to let that all sink in - mostly because Wade was practically jumping around while telling his story, and it was hard for Peter to keep up.

"So, what you're telling me is that you were the good guy here?"

"Yup!"

There was a smile tugging at the corner of Peter's mouth. Then he remembered the gun, and all his anger from before came crashing down. "Idiot!" he yelled, "that's still no excuse to pull guns on people!"

"Gun? What gun? I have no gun." Wade raised his hands, fingers wiggling for Peter to see.

"This gun." He caught the weapon that had been tossed aside with his web, pulling it over towards him.

"That's not a gun," said Wade blankly.

"Wade!" Peter growled.

"It's not! I swear! It's a block of chocolate, like a prop. Just take a bite out of it!"

What? Peter lifted his mask, taking a sniff. Huh, it smelled sweet. Licking his lips, he sank his teeth into the 'gun'.

"Fuck! Wilson!"

Wade cackled before making his escape.

Peter howled, cradling his jaw. His tooth was chipped, because that was a real gun he bit into, just coated with sugar, and he was gullible enough to believe Wade. Well, he had done a good thing earlier, he supposed, and Peter caught himself grinning, despite himself.

That still didn't change the fact that he was going to beat the snot out of Wade when he saw him again.