Hey, fanfic readers! I'm back! I'm sorry for the absence lately but I'm not kidding that my work got me swamped. Not to mention that I get a lot of ideas of both fanart and fanfic pouring in while trying to make progress with my current works. For example, Spideypool of MARVEL. With the assassin!Spidey AU nonetheless. And this is my first fanfic in the fandom. So please, just leave a comment or critique in the review box. If this isn't up in your alley, feel free to click on the back button and leave no comment. With that said, please enjoy!

Current pairing: Spideypool - Deadpool/Spider-Man - Wade Wilson/Peter Parker

Inspired by: NaruSaku6666 of deviantArt

Deadpool and Spider-Man are copyrighted to MARVEL and Stan Lee

WARNING

This fanfiction may contain strong language, blood, violence, innuendos, Deadpool being Deadpool, fourth wall breaking, and chimichangas. Viewer discretion is advised.

Being a mercenary has some pros and cons just like any other job.

Sure it pays well but it depends on the clients that you come across whenever you have the chance.

There are your garden variety baddies such as corrupt politicians, gangsters, etc. They're the most common when you have a reputation, chances of getting them to either call you or have an audience with you in person were always hundred percent.

There are also the rare types, those who truly wanted to have the bad guys that cannot be touched by law gone for good.

Note the keyword "rare".

But those, he is willing to take, despite being dubbed as a cheap job. A thousand dollar job doesn't hurt. However, he made one thing clear: No killing innocents, no matter how good the pay was. At least there are odd jobs that REALLY paid well...mostly bodyguard duty. Or as Peter liked to call it, babysitting for grown-ups. There is also tracking down a missing person, busting a trafficking ring or two.

However, it was slow days like this that Peter looked forward to.

It gave him time to relax, maybe stock up on some ammo, sharpen some bladed weapons, and target practice in one of the abandoned sewers. Sometimes whenever he was in his old neighborhood, he could place an envelop of some amount from his savings upon the placemat for his Aunt May to find.

Admittedly, it was hard not seeing her. But considering the job that he was doing right now, it was for the best.

Right now, gun cleaning.

He was lucky to have tutoring sessions with Logan. And by tutoring sessions, he meant training that is enough to make Marines cry and Hell seemed like a tropical paradise. Despite the rough start when they first met, Logan gave enough evidence that he was impressed. A bit. Still counts but whatever. At least he calls to check up on him from time to time, usually ending with "don't wind up dead" after the call. Logan is a hard ass but at least he cares, in a way. He had to admit, the weight of the gun was a lot to get used to, same goes for killing off baddies. But after a while, it came naturally as breathing.

Still had to deal with gunpowder residue though. That stuff can really stick to you.

So there he was, sitting in his somewhat shabby-decent(ish) apartment, in the rough side of Queens, just cleaning one of his guns with an oiled rag with his legs prompt upon the table as he leisurely leaned back on the chair. He affectionately gave each of them nicknames, such as his two main guns, Muffet and Charlotte. Whenever he maintained his weapons, along with upgrading his webslingers, everything became white noise to him. It almost became on the same level as any other household chores.

That is if you could count a barely furnished apartment something to have chores in.

As he scrubbed the barrel clean, Peter paused in mid-rubbing when his Spider Sense suddenly kicked up. He narrowed his eyes as he casually-yet cautiously- set Charlotte made a show of letting his guard down before reaching down for the knife that was attached to his ankle and with a flick of his wrist, he threw it at the intruder behind him.

The wet sound of the blade making contact was heard, along with a sound of someone wincing in pain.

"Owie!"

Peter grimaced as he realized who it was.

"Wade Wilson…" he spoke in a deadpan manner. "Why am I not surprised?"

A whimper was heard as the infamous Merc with the Mouth gingerly reached up and tried all his might to pull the knife from between his eyes.

"Owowow, it's stuck…ow…" He winced as he gripped the handle and let out an exaggerated grunt while pulling it out, leaving behind wet gushing noise and blood splattering out of the wound. "You threw hard, Baby Boy. Didn't your mother ever taught you that playing with sharp knives are dangerous?"

Peter glared at him, glancing down at the blood splatter upon the floor. He made a mental note of cleaning that up later before walking over to his fellow assassin- and sometimes rival- to pluck the knife out of his hand.

"One, my AUNT MAY did taught me that, so yes." Peter answered, walking back to his work table to use a spare rag to clean the blood off of the knife. "Two, that's low. Even for you."

Wade made a show of blinking -wait, did he really blink? It was hard to tell with the mask on- and cocked his head to the side.

"What? Did your parents died or something?"

"…"

"…" Then Wade let out an exaggerated gasp as he clasped his concealed mouth. "I am so sorry! I didn't know, your parents got killed by the Six-Fingered Man right in front of you! And in an alley way no less!"

"Is there a reason why you're here, Wade?" Peter asked, cutting him off as he nonchalantly cleaned the blood off of the knife, examining the blade to make sure he didn't miss one.

"Oh, I'm here because some woman child not only says so but she's writing this."

A sigh escaped from Peter's lips as he turned around and faced him, twirling the knife in his hand. It seems like that every time that he showed up at his apartment (mostly unannounced), his delusions seemed to get crazier each time. Especially after when he got into this hitman gig. He had long given up replacing locks on his door and windows, Wade always find a way inside, no matter how many safe houses he owned.

"Unless you want this knife on your balls, I suggest you give me a real reason why you're here." It somehow came out more of a promise than a threat.

"I got lonely and I wanted to come over!"

That seemed to be enough to satisfy Peter enough to sheathe his knife. He casually sat back down as he resumed cleaning up Charlotte. "Just help yourself to the fridge or pantry. I got those cheap chimichangas that you like so much." It was fair to have some included during his grocery runs. After all, with these surprise visits, he had at least be a good host to his visitor.

Well, ONLY visitor…

"Free food! Yay!"

He didn't need to see Wade practically bouncing off into his kitchen to get to the frozen treat. As long as he cleans up after himself, he's tolerable. Then he paused as he mused over this current situation. Normally, whenever he come across another hitman who also have the same target, it was kill or be killed scenario. Peter recalled the lessons that Logan gave him when it comes with teaming up with other mercenaries, whether it was just the mundane and/or thrill-seeking junkies, professional, or costumed super villains.

"Watch your back whenever you get hired along with those types. The pay may be good, but competition tends to make others…crazier than usual."

Which is why he leaned more to a solo act.

Sure, he tend to ran into certain types once in a while. The professional ones are tolerable and civil, just like seeing a coworker passing by with a hello. The psychotic ones, he steered clear away from. He didn't know how the unstable ones somehow managed to keep themselves alive in this line of work, they would most likely kill not only their targets but also their fellow mercenaries and themselves as well.

Wade is actually a special case.

Sure, the first time they met was…rocky, to say the least. He learned that he unintentionally made Wade his rival (as well as attracted to him) after killing him the first time they met. Who knew that their first meeting would be over the same target? And since that night, Peter finds himself running into him more than once, almost by coincidence. The next thing he knew, he just let Wade see himself in after somehow finding out where he lives.

Well, one of the places that he lived in.

In a way, Peter was happy. This line of work also meant some sacrifices. Not only dropping out of school but cutting himself from the people that he knew and loved.

Aunt May was one of them.

A soft sigh escaped from his lips when he thought of the woman who not only took him in but raised him like he was her own child.

How long has it been since he last saw her?

As much as he wanted to see or at least talk to her again, he knew he couldn't. Any contact with anyone from his old life…there would be a possibility that he would risk their lives and suffer. Leading a lifestyle such as this more or less left him starved for human company. Wade pretty much filled in the void. Sure, it took him a good while to get used to him -especially when he confirmed that Wade wouldn't kill him in his sleep.

This is probably the closest thing to a friendship, no matter how weird it was.

"Tacos, taco, tacos~" Came the sing-song voice of Wade as he does a silly dance before the microwave while one of the cheap packaged chimichangas get heated up. "Super tasty tacos too~ Tacos, Tacos, Tacos~ The yummiest tacos on Taco Tuesday~"

"It's Sunday, you Asshat."

Wade stopped his dancing as he stood up and looked over at Peter with what seemed to be a serious look (at least that is what he is assuming underneath the mask) just when the timer let out a ding, indicating that his meal was heated up.

"Everyday is Taco Tuesday."

The way he said it was so serious, that it could be placed in a typical dialogue of a cheesy action flick. Though the sight of him standing in front of a small microwave with his meal fully heated took away any indication that it meant to be badass. Peter couldn't help but laugh out loud at this, a genuine honest-to-God laugh. He couldn't remember when was the last time that he laughed like this. It seemed like so long ago.

He didn't know how long that he was laughing but at least he didn't fell out of his chair and place himself in a compromising position. Bonus points for him making sure that the magazine was out. Peter may have healing properties but he's not like Wade. One bullet to the brain or heart, he's a goner. It took him a while to calm down, wiping away mirthful tears from his eyes before looking up to see Wade facing him.

Peter couldn't tell what facial expression he had right now, again due to the mask. He began to feel uncomfortable by the way he was staring at him. After a moment, he finally had enough as he set his feet off of the table and faced him.

"What?" was all he could say at the moment.

"…you laughed."

Peter blinked before cocking his head to the side. "And…?"

"I never seen you laugh before." Peter's ears perked up at the difference of the tone in his voice. He was…serious. Like honest to God serious. "I have to admit…you look cute when you laugh. And smile."

He felt his heart skipped a beat as Peter stared at Wade in amazement and-dare he say it?- new found respect. That is actually the sweetest and most sane thing that he had ever heard.

"It also makes me wanna fuck your mouth senseless! I mean, goddamn! I'm already hard!"

And with that eloquently crude statement, the moment was ruined.

Peter practically face-palmed himself, shaking his head. He couldn't believe that this man was 80% batshit crazy and 20% serious. But somehow, Wade made the impossible possible.

"Wade…" he finally spoke.

"Yes, Sugar Lips?"

"Remind me why I'm hanging out with you again?"

"Because of my lovable personality and dashing good looks?"

Peter barely held back a snicker. "We're talking about you, Wade, not Don Diego from Zorro"

To this reply, Wade literally beams as he practically vibrates in excitement. He could have sworn that there were sparkles shining around him. Wait wha- "So you like Spanish guys? Well you're in luck! I eat tacos so that makes me half Mexican!"

At this point, Peter finally broke out laughing once again. He actually had to hold his stomach when he started to feel the aching from his sides as Peter tried to calm himself. Honestly, how was it possible for someone like Wade be two-thirds insane idiot and yet somehow be able to know things to say that would somehow elevate him in some way.

"My God, Wade…" He chortled, wiping a tear from his eye. Honestly, this man is full of surprises.

If they weren't a couple of mercenaries that have somewhat screwed-up life style, they could have been friends with normal, mundane lives. Only getting paper cuts instead of stitching up knife wounds. Worrying about paying the bills instead of wondering if you wake up the next day. What Peter do if he were to have that life…

"If only, Peter."

Wait…how did he know what he was thinking?

Peter blinked as he looked up and was genuinely surprised to see Wade suddenly in front of him.

Either he was REALLY quiet or he used this BAMF thing. That or he must have laid his guard down so much that he didn't even noticed. Just as he was about to think that Wade was actually gonna attack him (they're mercenaries, leveling the playing field is common), the Merc knelt down to Peter's level and held his hands in a tender manner.

"Life is both an unfair and unexpected bitch." He continued. "I didn't ask to be some messed up piece of shit in so many ways with a butter face and I'm just pulling out straws here but you don't seem to ask for this either. It could be that some dick waffle offed your loved ones or you watched your first girlfriend die, or both. Then there's the whole Goth-emo dancing thanks to some gooey black alien jizz and making a stupid-ass deal with Satan…"

"Wait, what?"

"The point is, we're still alive and kicking. Sure, our current occupation is the new janitor and what we do are enough to get SJWs bitch and whine about it on Tumblr or Tweety Bird Chat-Sites but at least we're alive. That's the most important thing. You still have someone out there who cared about you, and probably still saving that seat on the table for dinner."

Peter had no idea what to say at this point.

Even if he is some over-the-top nutcase with more than a few screws loose and have a mouth that is enough to make a sailor blush, he can be very insightful. Honest…supportive…and surprisingly kind. At the right moment, that is. Hearing such words from him were enough to have his heart beat rapidly against his ribcage.

Without even saying a word, Peter reached up to Wade's face and slowly removed his mask. Not even flinching at the scarred appearance. Honestly, in his line of work, he had seen WAY worse than his face. But strangely enough it made him look attractive. Peter gently cupped Wade's face, lifting it up so he can see him eye to eye.

"Wade…" He spoke softly, almost tenderly.

Wade swallowed a lump in his throat, but not looking away from those pretty eyes of blue (though he can see bits of brown, now that he looked closer). Even though he could practically feel his heart beating against his chest and he could have sworn that the text boxes were practically gushing and at the same time panicking. He could hear them throwing out some suggestions and rejecting one suggestion after another, which quickly escalated to insulting each other.

He's going kiss us! Quick! Say something romantic!

Romantic? This ain't some chick fanfic with some shit grammar! I'd say we get the lady who can't move out of her mom's house to actually write out the dirty stuff where we fuck like bunnies!

This fan fiction is the only way to get started on this fandom! She can't just dive in headfirst with the mature stuff!

PANSY!

PHILISTINE!

"…Peter…" was all Wade could muster out.

This was it.

It's really happening.

His masturbation fantasies and wet dreams are finally coming to life! Well, kinda…it mostly involved with Peter in skin-tight booty shorts and whipped cream on a rose-petal covered bed, with those sexy killer eyes that scream out "come hither". But that was besides the point!

The fact that he was about to kiss Peter Parker, the Spider-Man…the web-slinging assassin! Former superhero!

Wait, is he considered an anti-hero? He does mostly taken out some really bad dudes…and often take odd jobs from SHIELD to take out terrorist groups. No, no! Focus, Wilson! Focus! Remember your training! Wax on, wax off!

He could practically feel their breaths mingle as their faces drew closer and closer to each other. Instinctively, Wade closed his eyes and leaned forward, eager to feel those delicious lips upon his own.

"…Your chimichangas are gonna get cold."

Wade blinked at this.

Chimichangas…?

"SHIT!"

Then Wade quickly pulled away from him and practically sprinted back to the microwave to retrieve his long abandoned meal.

"Please, please, please, don't get cold!" He begged as he opened up the microwave.

Peter watched with amusement as Wade gingerly took the Mexican fried burrito out of its confinement before letting out "hot burrito! hot burrito!" as he tossed the chimichanga between his hands. Considering the spandex material that his suit was made of, they didn't make good oven mitts. After a while, Peter finally got up and casually strolled over to him before heading over to one of his cabinets and pulled out a plate.

"Here."

It was either with expert ease or plain dumb luck but Wade managed to toss the hot instant treat upon the dish before removing his gloves to blow upon his hands. No doubt in an attempt to cool them off.

"Did you also forget that you have regenerative powers?" Peter teasingly reminded him.

Wade stopped at what he was doing and blinked. He then looked down at his scarred hands before realization hit him.

"…So I have." Then he held his hands out to him. "Still want a kiss to make them feel better though."

Peter once again rolled his eyes before setting the plate down upon the counter and walked over to him with a smile on his face. He then took Wade's hands into his own, placing a soft kiss upon each palms. Feeling the slightly rough, bumpy texture against his touch was always a contrasting yet interesting experience for him. While Wade didn't think of himself in a high regard, Peter thought of the opposite.

He somehow understood why some people thought that scars are sexy.

"You know…" Peter spoke up. "You're still a sexy bastard. With or without scars."

Wade blinked at this before turning to the White and Yellow Boxes. "Did I just say that out loud? I don't remember."

"Yes. You did."

GOOD LORD! HE KNOWS!

FUCK! US! AND I MEAN IT IN A LITERAL SENSE!

"Fuck me…"

Peter let out a chuckle before placing a chaste kiss upon his forehead. He's still wearing his mask but he could still feel it.

"Only if you buy me dinner first."

Wade then looked down at the chimichanga on the counter before turning to Peter with what seemed like hopeful puppy eyes.

"Does chimichanga count?"

"Nope." And with that, Peter returned back to the table to resume cleaning his weapons. But not before giving a small sway to his hips as he walked. Wade watched before narrowing his eyes as he steepled his fingers.

"…I'll get you next time, Peter Parker. Next time."

"Yeah, good luck with that, Dr. Claw."

He totally gets the Inspector Gadget reference! We are so meant for each other!

That is if we get the writer to ACTUALLY write out a story where we bonked Peter…maybe next story.

"Fuck yeah! She did have those awesome ideas lined up! Mostly crossovers, but still! Gonna tap dat ass!"

Peter looked up from sharpening his knife with a raised eyebrow before deciding to just go back to what he was doing.

Sometimes it was best not to know…

Author's Notes

Muffet and Charlotte - Obvious references to the spider-themed nursery rhyme and E.B. White's classic novel, Charlotte's Web. Also a shout-out to Devil May Cry in a way.