Say Anything…Except That
By Cortexikid
Chapter 11: Hero Stark Flirty
It's been brought to my attention that some of my work was copied and posted to without my authorization. I just want to again reiterate a disclaimer that while I do not own the Deadpool or Spider Man characters, the plot is mine and all my works are written solely by me for the entertainment of readers on Ao3, my Tumblr and alone. Any other postings of my work in places other than these are there without my consent. If you happen across this fic (or indeed any of my other fanfiction) posted in other places than the above, I would greatly appreciate it if you would let me know. Thank you. ~Ck
Not to make light of anything writer lady but…this kinda makes the first line of this chapter a little ironic, huh?
Shut up, Deadpool.
"Please tell me you didn't steal this."
"Oh Petey, ye of little faith!"
"That doesn't reassure me," Peter murmured as they walked into an alleyway towards a shiny, red Chrysler.
"Subtle," he retorted as Wade turned on the spot, walking backwards, arms thrown out.
"I woulda preferred a giant bumper car, but it gets the job done," the merc winked, "besides, I get paid handsomely so, no need to steal…although, I am great at it," he added as an afterthought.
Peter stared at him.
"Don't give me that face, pouty pants," Wade brandished a disapproving finger at him as he threw open the car door, sliding into the driver's seat and putting the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life, "onwards noble steed!"
Peter, during this display, remained rooted to the spot, ever aware of the incessant beeping omitting from his pocket.
"Well, what are you waiting for, Watson? A formal invitation?" Wade yelled over the noise, his voice muffled from inside the car.
"Why am I Watson and you're Sherlock?" Peter asked loudly, leaning down to glare at him through the closed window.
"Because I'm taller. Duh."
The brunet let out a snort. "Of course. What an astute observation. Clearly you're meant to be the detective," he finished sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, before reaching out and opening the passenger door, sliding onto the leather upholstery and glancing over to Wade expectantly.
"So tell me, Sherlock. You actually got a plan or are we just walking into this blind?"
"The true seeing is within, my friend," Wade replied enigmatically, revving the engine.
"What…what does that even mean?" Peter asked, completely bewildered.
"George Eliot. Seriously dude, I thought you were meant to be the smart one," Deadpool deadpanned before starting to fiddle with various buttons.
"I know the quote, Wade. I just don't understand the context. Do we or do we not, have a plan?"
In lieu of replying, the merc just revved the engine again, bouncing up and down in his seat.
"You're gonna drive with the mask on then?" an irked Peter continued to question, waving a hand at his face.
"Oh I'm sorry, Princess Peach. Would you prefer I take it off?" the other man asked with an edge to his tone, his head infuriatingly facing forward, all traces of levity gone from his demeanour.
"Yes."
Peter watched as Wade's entire body tensed.
They really should have had this conversation the night before as they prepared for bed. Peter hadn't wanted to push but now…it was more awkward. The younger man just wanted to point out that he had already seen Wade's face (and a lot more of him) so it really wasn't a big deal for him to remove his mask, only…it was a big deal. For Wade. Peter could only imagine how hard it must be for him, and to ask him something of that calibre…he feared he was crossing a line.
But seriously, driving with a mask on wasn't the best idea.
A silence descended on them that was so stifling that the brunet had to force himself not to crack a window just to hear the sound of the electronic mechanism. He watched with bated breath as Wade continued to sit perfectly still, more so than he could ever remember seeing, his head tilted at a slight angle. He couldn't be sure, but it appeared as if he was inwardly arguing with himself.
Just when it began to get too much and Peter opened his mouth to apologize for making him uncomfortable, Wade slowly reached up with his right hand, slipping back his hood and gently pulling the mask up and off his face.
Two hazel eyes flickered over the exposed skin, drinking in the sight before him.
Scarred didn't even begin to describe Wade's face. It was much more than just that. It was flecked, gaunt…haunted. Damaged skin stretched over protruding cheek bones, the head and brow completely void of hair, a wet sheen from a jittering tongue coated chapped lips. But the eyes…it was the eyes that drew him in.
They were dark. This surprised Peter. He could've sworn that in an old file he caught a glimpse of back in the early days of his acquaintance with Deadpool had stated that he originally had blue eyes and blonde hair. He remembered this purely on the basis that he had conjured an immediate idea of what his face looked like under the red and black mask. He had imagined something along the lines of Cap, a well-built, fair-haired, blue-eyed guy.
The reality was…not what he expected.
The dark brown eyes that were currently focussing intently on a spot to Peter's left, were more expressive than even the merc himself probably knew. In that short moment, Peter caught a glimpse of something behind them, something that murmured a vulnerability, a whisper of uncertainty that was usually hidden behind layers of bravado and pop culture references.
Peter hadn't really let himself truly look at Wade that time in his apartment, not with Aunt May sitting a few feet from him, but now, within the confines of the small space of the car, he allowed himself to linger, without crossing into staring territory.
His heart panged in his chest at the thought of just how painful it must be for Wade, physically, mentally and emotionally to keep up his persona. Peter himself knew how hard it was for him sometimes to constantly play the quick-witted and sharp-tongued Spidey, especially on his shitty days. But to do that to a larger and more eccentric extent while in constant pain? Honestly, he hadn't given it much thought over the years, oftentimes he'd explain away the mercenary's mania as just plain insanity, but now that he was literally faced with what Wade had to deal with on a daily basis—
"Now that you've got your fill of the Freak Show, can we hit the road?" the merc ground out, interrupting Peter's reverie, his hands twitching on the steering wheel, eyes still avoidant.
Peter nodded mutely, his orbs dancing down Wade's body to settle on the expanse of his shoulders.
He waited until the car was kicked into gear and they were making their way out onto the busy, bustling, noisy streets of New York before he mumbled under his breath, "seeing as you're so fond of quotes. 'Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it' – Confucius."
A sharp, wooden toothpick scraped underneath a dirty thumbnail, collecting all the grit. Two lips pressed together to blow out a puff of air before moving onto the next digit.
"Okay Mr Blye, you're free to go," a voice called just as a nurse entered the room.
Joe glanced up at her, toothpick clenched in hand.
"I have some crutches for you waiting at the door," the nurse continued as she helped him into a wheelchair and began pushing it down the hospital corridor, towards the exit.
"Thank you, Tomiwa. I appreciate it. And please, call me Joe," he smiled, offering the beautiful woman a flirtatious wink.
Tomiwa shook her head, a small smile gracing her face at his coquettish tone.
"Here we are Mr Blye," she emphasized his last name with a quirked eyebrow as they reached the exit, "now remember, no strenuous exercise for at least three weeks and try to keep that leg elevated for as long as possible. Rest and relaxation is key."
Blye nodded, reaching out for the crutches, taking a moment to steady himself before throwing her another grin.
"Just what will I do with myself during all that rest and relaxation?"
Tomiwa folded her arms, rolling her eyes.
"You'll rest. And relax. Nurse's orders."
Blye gave her a short salute, "yes ma'am!"
With that he was off, hobbling his way down the street towards the subway.
It had been one hell of a night. He had spent the majority of it in the ER, blood trickling down his leg, drifting in and out of consciousness. Vivid, petrifying images haunted him in between his frantic waking hours as he reflected on the torture he endured at the hands of the crazy mercenary. He had been beyond terrified, sure that Deadpool would ultimately kill him.
But then the Parker kid showed up.
The same kid he was supposed to kill.
And saved his life by letting him go.
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Joe had taken the opportunity and gotten the hell outta dodge.
The trek to the hospital had been nothing short of agony, stumbling his way down the street, weaving in and out of pedestrians, just doing anything and everything he could to remain upright and moving. The mile and a half walk had felt like an eternity and when he finally crashed through the doors, sweat was streaming down his face, his hands stained crimson from where they had clutched at his leg.
Eighteen hours, thirty-two stitches and enough pain meds to knock out a horse, later, Joe Blye was on his way to the first place he knew he had to go before he could even dream of going home.
The warehouse.
He had debated with himself over the last eighteen hours about whether he should alert his employers of what had gone down last night.
In the end he figured that honesty was the best policy. Less chance of his head ending up in a box if he was upfront about it. Right?
Or maybe that was his naivety talking. Or the copious amount of drugs he was on.
Either way, one crutch under each arm-pit, he was warehouse-bound.
Forty-five gruelling minutes filled with panted breaths and clammy palms passed before a familiar view met him. With a quick glance left and right, Blye crossed the street, shuffling his way down a side alley and halting at the wide, empty clearing that stood just in front of the dilapidated warehouse.
Taking a deep breath to summon the courage that he knew wouldn't come, Blye took an attentive step forward, nearly jumping out of his skin when the large, burly man known as Mike suddenly appeared in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere.
"The boss has been lookin' for you," he said gruffly, fingers twitched against his thick, grey beard.
"I—I need to talk him. Or Daniels," Joe forced himself to reply, trying not to grimace as his voice shook.
Mike threw him an unimpressed look, turning on his heel and walking away.
Joe watched him leave with a frown. Was he supposed to follow him or—
"Time is money, Blye. Get your damn ass in gear!"
Guess that was his answer…
"But you gotta make your own kinda music, sing your own special song, make your own kinda music, even if nobody else sings along!"
Peter glanced at Wade out of his peripheral vision as he continued to sing at the top of his lungs, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as they waited, stuck in traffic for the fourth time in fifteen minutes.
Man, he hated driving in New York.
"We shoulda taken the subway," he grumbled, reaching back to cradle his neck, trying to work out the uncomfortable creak in it.
"And miss you gettin' a look at my sweet ride? No way, Petey," Wade responded, head still firmly forward.
Since taking off his mask, the merc hadn't even turned in his direction, let alone met Peter's gaze.
"Blye's half a block ahead of us. Looks like he's heading towards the old O&F Warehouse…geez my grandma walks faster than that guy!"
"That might have something to do with the gaping hole in his thigh, curtesy of your ice-pick," Peter deadpanned, folding his arms and glaring at him.
"Oh yeah!" Deadpool exclaimed as if only suddenly remembering, which he very well could have, knowing him.
After three more minutes battling traffic, Blye finally came into view, several hundred feet ahead of them, hobbling along on crutches before disappearing down a side-street.
Near the end of the street, Wade pulled over, lucky enough to find a space.
"I don't think we can park here," Peter remarked with a frown.
"C'mon baby boy…be a rebel," the mercenary smirked, quickly turning to him before catching himself and facing forward again.
"So…what now?" the younger man asked as the seconds ticked by.
Holding up a finger, Wade leaned across him (still avoiding his eyes) to open the glove box, rifling through dozens of taco wrappers and what looked like false moustaches before pulling out a pair of binoculars and handing them to him.
"Go to town, Petey boy. Get your Rear Window on!"
Peter heaved a sigh, taking the binoculars and making a show of looking through them, pressing them right against his glasses.
"He's…talking with some guy. They're both heading inside," he commentated before leaning forward, "we should follow—"
"Patience you must have, my young padawan," Wade cut across him, pressing a hand to his chest and pushing him back against the seat.
Peter took the binoculars away from his face and threw him a dubious look.
"You don't strike me as the most patient person. Or a Star Wars fan."
The merc shrugged.
"Our surprises we each have."
Before Peter could reply, a loud tapping against his window startled them both.
Wade took that precise moment to finally share a glance with him, his dark eyes widened with shock before he looked at something over his shoulder.
"Speaking of surprises…" he breathed.
Slowly, Peter turned in his seat and was met with the very unimpressed face of none other than Tony Stark as he stood hunched over at the passenger side window.
"Hi there. Not interrupting anything, am I?"
Joseph Blye was not a man that would ever be considered particularly cowardly. He was in a dangerous line of work and any sign of weakness, and that's what cowardice was seen as – a weakness, proved to be a death sentence. He couldn't afford for any type of fear to break through his calm and collected persona when on a job. And nine times out of ten, he didn't.
This was that pesky tenth time.
With shaking hands, he dug out his cell phone and called his cousin Gio's number.
On the fifth ring, someone finally picked up, "hey man—"
"What the hell, Gio?!" Blye instantly launched into his tirade as he ducked behind a dumpster, silently counting down the seconds before the bomb he planted levelled the building.
"You told me it was a simple job. You said the apartment block was a shit hole, a cess pool of junkies and ex-cons. You said nothing about it having kids, man! And this Parker kid…he's nothin' like any of the others. He's a goddamn college student, a nerd, not a fuckin' fat cat embezzler or a drug tycoon! Why the hell does the boss want him de—"
"Joey, stop. Just relax—"
"Relax? You want me to relax?!" Joe whisper-shouted as he paced back and forth, "outta the blue you call me, tell me all about your shady boss and how you recommended me for a job that I sure as hell couldn't refuse. Do you know they're making me plant a bomb that looks way too much like a Deadpool design than I'm comfortable with? They're having me frame that nut job as well as levelling a building! Did you know that that psycho would be here, Gio?"
Silence met his words as he gasped for air.
"He shot Groves, you know. Dead," he continued, admittedly relieved when he saw the majority of the residents of the apartment building beginning to file out onto the street, fire alarm blaring.
"Gio I…I missed, man. The kid's still alive. Which is more than I can say for me, after this," Joe murmured, running a hand through his hair, "Deadpool chased me. But I got away. What the hell do I do now?!"
"You keep your head on straight, Joey," Gio replied, as calmly as ever, "keep outta sight and get to my place ASAP. We'll figure out the rest then."
Giovanni Blye was ever the pragmatist. While Joe would concede that he was more the idealist. Unfortunately for him, he was only beginning to realize that idealism and assassination don't tend to be naturally amenable.
It was that moment, the last time that Joe ever spoke to his cousin that was firmly lodged in his mind's eye as he followed Mike throughout the warehouse and towards the very same spot that he had been given Gio's severed head.
He had known in a way, that night when he showed up at Gio's apartment and he wasn't there, that something bad had happened to him. The punishment had been swift, at least. Joe hadn't even failed to kill Peter Parker two hours and his cousin already paid the price. That was the business. Which was why it was so baffling to Joe that he had not only been given a second chance, but a third one.
And he'd blown that too.
Fourth time's the charm?
"How does it make you feel, Mr. Blye? Being the sole reason that Gio, your far more talented cousin, is dead?" a voice asked, wafting out from behind an ajar door as Joe and Mike came to a halt in the middle of the room.
"Well, my Dad's Italian, my Mom's Mexican and my Grandma's Irish, so I've enough Catholic guilt to last me several lifetimes," Joe forced himself to respond, trying to give the illusion that the other man's words didn't shake him to his very core.
He wasn't successful.
"Much like your so-called skills, your tone lacks conviction," Daniels sniped, stepping out from the office, rolling up his sleeves and dusting off imaginary lint from his crisp, white shirt.
Joe compelled his eyes to stay trained on the older man, to not lower or avert, but to focus, track. It was a widely known, yet very seldom discussed fact, that Lucas Daniels was the closest thing to a purely human weapon that anyone could get. Highly skilled and physically imposing, the sharply-dressed second-in-command had an air about him that demanded respect and instilled fear in those around him.
Blye had already been privy to (and direct witness of) what Daniels was capable of (his stone-cold assassination of their associate Jack still firmly burned into his retinas) and had absolutely no desire to repeat the process, especially if he was today's target.
"So, let's review," Daniels clapped his hands, (Joe absolutely did not jump) "you were hired by my employer to assassinate Peter Parker and frame the mercenary known as Deadpool. You failed. You were then tasked again to take out Mr. Parker, this time framing the vigilante known as Spider Man. You failed. You were then given a third opportunity to redeem yourself by tailing Deadpool and bringing him back to Club Purgatory to meet with my employer and were yet again, a failure. That correct?"
Blye swallowed deeply, a lump forming in his throat. Nodding minutely, he did everything in his power not to fidget uncomfortably.
"Well that's just one fuck up after another, isn't it?" Daniels laughed suddenly, breaking his patented cold composure and clipped vernacular, "I mean…shit. You're one dumb motherfucker."
Joe gaped at him, not believing what just happened. It was like something out of Invasion of The Body Snatchers.
Was Daniels a Pod Person?
"The boss was right," the older man continued, his tone almost one of awe, "I mean, I never doubted it, not really but…to this extent? Jesus. I love it when a plan comes together."
Joe frowned. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Mike was just as bewildered by their superior's odd behaviour as he was.
"I mean, I have no idea how Chenko could have known but…damn. It's really coming together exactly the way they said it would. And with none of the usual side-effects!" Daniels marvelled, stepping closer to Blye and staring down directly into his eyes, "you don't have any nausea, right? Memory loss? Sleep-walking? Night-terrors? Déjà Vu? Discombobulation?"
Blye's frown deepened as he shook his head.
Daniels let out another disconcerting laugh before turning on his heel and calling over his shoulder, "Mike, ready our guest. It's time for Phase Two."
A spike of fear rose up Joe's spine as Mike's large form cast a shadow on the side of his face.
"P-Phase Two?"
"You know, you're shorter in real life…"
Tony and Peter simultaneously turned to glare at Wade who held up his hands in defence from where he stood outside the driver's seat door, observing the brunet and his boss across the roof of the car as they went back to staring at one another silently.
"Peter, a word. Alone," Stark demanded pointedly, breaking their staring contest and storming away up the street.
"Ooh someone's got a bee in his bonnet. Or does he always walk like that? Seriously, I couldn't sworn that dude was like six inches taller in the movies," Wade commented to himself, tugging on the hood around his head, following Peter with his gaze as he rounded the car to halt in front of him.
"Sorry about this," he began, "it's…work. Mr. Stark is probably pissed I took the nano-trackers out of the lab," he explained hurriedly, "you keep an eye on Blye. I'll be back in a minute," he finished, high-tailing it down the street after his boss.
Deadpool watched the two men go, a frown etched onto his very visible face.
"Curiouser and curiouser…" he murmured under his breath.
[Since when do bosses stalk their employees?]
{Yeah. And low-level ones, at that}
"Petey isn't low-level anything," Wade admonished White, "he's A Plus, Top Tier, O for Outstanding. Totally stalk-worthy. Stark probably just wants to pick his brain about some science shit."
[This is Tony Stark we're talking about]
{The only scientist's brain he picks is Banner's}
[Science Bros FTW!]
"Should we…" Wade began before faltering, shaking his head, "no. Petey wouldn't like that."
[What Petey doesn't know won't hurt him]
{Like the fact that you woke up last night and stared at him while he slept]
[He doesn't need to know that]
{Or that you jerk off in the shower thinking about him}
[He definitely doesn't need to know that]
{So really, this is just another thing to add to the list}
[So quit being a pussy and follow them already!]
{Meow meow mother-fucker}
Mind made up, Wade walked swiftly in the direction that the other two men took, stepping as quietly as he could.
After a few moments, he started to hear voices [not us! Well, not just us] so he kept close to the wall, taking a quick glance around it into an alley, spotting Peter and Stark standing a few feet away, talking in hushed yet clearly angry tones.
"You had SHIELD question Deadpool?!" Peter was hissing, his hands waving with an irate flourish.
"I had Coulson ask him a few questions. Someone had to make sure he wasn't the one tryin' to kill you kid, seen as apparently you're so focused on being his BFF," Stark snorted, taking a step towards him, "tell me Thelma, when are you and Louise planning on driving that car off the nearest cliff?" he finished with a faux-sweet tone, folding his arms.
Peter's jaw clenched tightly, his hazel eyes ablaze.
{So hot}
[*Drools*]
"How long have you two been having sleepovers, braiding each other's hair and playing truth and dare, anyway?" Stark continued, "'cause the way your aunt talks about him, he's the best thing since those limited edition Captain America calendars…you know, the photo-shopped dirty ones that Steve tried to get discontinued."
[That was one hell of a calendar]
{It made great spank bank material}
[Pity it was photo-shopped]
{Have you seen Steve Rogers? The dude looks photo-shopped in real life. He's like Marvel's answer to Ryan Gosling}
[Emma Stone was right]
"Aunt May talks about me…" Wade gaped quietly, trying to focus on the two men in the alley.
[Yeah she does!]
{To Tony Stark!}
[Since when do bosses mix with their low-level employee's family?]
{Since Aunt May was the coolest of cool aunts?}
[Petey did say that he knew Stark, Rogers and Banner]
{Guess we didn't realize just how well}
"Me and Wade are friends, so what? Last time I checked, I didn't need to get your permission on who I can and can't hang out with," Peter ground out, mirroring Stark by folding his arms, "he's been helping me investigate this whole assassination attempt thing. I figured it was an all hands on deck type of situation, so…"
[Whose hands?]
"You don't need him, Parker! He's more trouble than he's worth, you know that," Tony hissed, rolling his eyes, "how many times do we need to have this conversation before it sinks in? Deadpool is bad news. End of story."
{Ouch}
[Rude]
{Wait…they've had this conversation before?}
"Deadpool," Peter spat, taking another step closer to Stark, glaring openly, "is the reason I'm alive to have this stupid conversation with you. Why is it that he's all right for you to have around when you need him, but the second I come within five feet of him you start freakin' following me around like you're a goddamn chaperone at a Junior Prom?!"
"Because you act like a kid at prom around him, Peter! Don't you see that? 'Cause I do. And your aunt sure as hell does, if her constant smiling and her 'Wade this' and 'Wade that' was any indication last night. Look," he held up his hands, "I'm just trying to look out for you. That's all," Stark finished, a displeased expression crossing his face, he apparently pissed at having to admit that.
Peter eyed him wearily.
"Did Steve put you up to this?"
"Like that geriatric can make me do anything."
There was a beat of silence where Peter seemed to give up whatever line of questioning he had in mind. Tony took this as an opportunity to start afresh.
"So the guy that shot at you. Blye. He's hauled up in the warehouse across the street?"
The brunet nodded, "he went inside not too long before you arrived. Deadpool…interrogated him last night and I planted the tracker on him. It led here. We were just working out what our next move is."
Stark shook his head, "go home, kid. Let us handle this. Bringing Deadpool in on anything is always a bad idea. Me and Steve will come back and case the place. I'll be in touch if something comes up," he went to turn and walk away.
"And Spider Man," Peter piped up, halting the billionaire in his tracks, "I—I know about what's been on the news and all but I still think—"
A car alarm sounded suddenly, cutting off whatever Peter was saying.
With a jolt, Wade leapt back behind the wall before either man could spot him.
[Phew! That was close]
{Guess we better skedaddle}
[We wouldn't want Daddy Stark to find us. Something tells me he wouldn't approve]
It was sat on the hood of the Chrysler where Peter found Wade a few minutes later, walking up to him quietly, folding his arms and leaning against it, his hip a few inches from Wade's legs.
"Sorry about that. Stark can be a little unrelenting when it comes to his—"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Peter froze, turning fully to look at the merc.
"Tell you what?" he asked slowly.
Wade levelled him with a pointed stare, scooting his ass down the hood of the car until his feet touched the ground.
At the brunet's puzzled expression, Deadpool sighed and began pacing back and forth in front of him.
"I may have…overheard your conversation with Stark," he began hurriedly, deliberately not looking at him, "I know what you've been hiding…"
Peter seemed stunned by Wade's revelation.
"Wade I…" he moved closer to him, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression and tone incredibly apologetic, "I know I should have told you sooner, I just…I didn't know how. I'm sorr—"
"I mean, I know Stark and Rogers fight like a married couple and all, but I wasn't aware they practically adopted you," the merc deadpanned, interrupting Peter.
"Wait, what?" the younger man asked, his tone dripping with confusion.
[I don't think Petey's on the same page here]
{I don't think he's even on the same book}
But Wade was too far gone to pay any heed to his boxes.
"I mean, I don't know why you couldn't just tell me that you and The Avengers are tight. I know they're not my biggest fans and all but…I would have gotten over it. I actually think it's cool that Stark's kinda Daddy Bear with you in a non-sexual way. Gives new insight into his personality. Adds layers to what could be a two dimensional portray—"
"Wade, stop!"
The mercenary halted his pacing at Peter's words. He turned to him, throwing up his hands.
"Petey, it's okay. You don't need to apologize. I get it now. It totally explains all your weirdness when we first met, too! You didn't want your Surrogate Dad knowing that you're…friends with me. That's why you didn't tell me that you're way closer with Stark than you let on. Hence why the dude's following you around town. Your Aunt May let slip that you were with me, so he was coming to check on you. It's kinda sweet, really, once you get over how offensive it is…" Deadpool trailed off, his tone a little dreamy.
[Did he really just say 'hence'?]
{Indubitably}
Peter looked like his brain had just short-circuited.
The two men stared at one another for a beat before the brunet seemed to come back online.
"Uh yeah…you're totally right, Deadpool. That's—that's it. I'm…I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Tony he—he knew my Dad and he has been a big part of my life for a few years now. He and the rest of The Avengers have been looking out for me. You know, getting me a job, helping me with science projects, that kinda thing…" Peter stumbled through his explanation, a red blush tinting his cheeks.
Wade walked back over to him, his head tilted, his eyes filled with curiosity.
"And Spider Man? What is he to you?"
The younger man's eyebrows shot up his forehead, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, unable to hold the mercenary's gaze any longer, his head hanging low.
There was another beat of silence, except this one felt much heavier, the atmosphere in the air electric.
It hit Wade like a freight train.
"Oh my god," he gasped, leaping up from the car and whirling around, "I'm such an idiot! How the hell did I not see it?!" he growled, furious at himself as his heart sank painfully in his chest, crushing disappointment settling into his bones.
That prompted Peter to look up.
"Wade what—"
"Spider Man!" the Canadian exclaimed, stamping his foot on the ground, practically vibrating with tension, "I get it now! He's your boyfriend or something, right?"
Peter's mouth dropped open, the blush spreading further across his face.
"I'm right, aren't I? Holy shit, I am Sherlock Holmes!"
Wade picked back up his pacing, ranting at full force now.
"I mean, I'm not gonna lie, Petey. I am still shocked because Jesus I thought…I thought you and I...if I'd known…" he mumbled, his voice dropping several decibels that the brunet almost didn't hear him, "now I've lost you and Spidey."
Peter rushed towards him, his hand connecting with his shoulder, turning him around to face him.
"Spider Man is not my boyfriend, Wade," he said firmly, staring up into his eyes, "how the hell could you think that?"
Wade seemed beyond surprised by this information.
"Oh I don't know, Peter!" he yelled, stepping right into Peter's space, glaring down at him, his nose an inch from his, "I don't think it's an unreasonable assumption. I mean, you take an awful lot of pictures of the guy. And you were so damn adamant that he wasn't trying to assassinate you and wouldn't let me confront him. So if you're not his boyfriend, then what are you to him?"
Peter bit his lip, his hazel eyes flickering as they connected with Wade's chocolate brown ones. He could feel Deadpool's angry puffs of air bouncing off his face. It was as if all the sound had been swallowed up and all that was left was the hammering of his heart beat in his ears.
He watched as Wade's orbs trailed down his face, stopping at his lips.
"We're…just friends," he forced himself to reply, the words expelling from him like a punch to the gut as his feet flat out refused to step away from the mercenary, no matter how much his brain screamed at them.
"Just friends…" Wade murmured, his eyes still locked on Peter's lips, "you mean like how me and you are just friends?"
The brunet swallowed deeply, his throat suddenly dry.
"N-No," he stammered with a shake of his head, "not like us."
Something unidentifiable passed over Wade's face as he heard those words. His eyes softened, tinged with that same unidentifiable something as he leaned closer.
"Good…" he breathed, closing the gap between them even further, his lips inching closer and closer until—
"Get the hell out of the street!" a voice yelled over the sudden honking of a car-horn.
The two men leapt apart, whirling around to see that they were indeed in the middle of the road, blocking a very angry man in an SUV.
Silently, they stepped out of the way and watched as the driver sped off, still yelling expletives at them.
[Well, that's a mood killer]
{Has the big guy lost his mind?! He actually nearly kissed Petey}
[Petey looked like he might kiss back]
{I wouldn't count on it. The guy may be 'just friends' with Spidey, but that doesn't mean shit. Now that we know he's rubbing elbows with the greats on the regular, what kinda chance does ol' Scarface really have? He's hardly a catch at the best of times, but up against Spidey and Black Widow?}
[You're totally right. He'd be an idiot to actually think something could possibly happen between them. Petey's surrounded by much better options. Who'd want stale tuna when they could have caviar?]
"…ade? Wade!"
The whole world came crashing back with brute force.
Deadpool fought to stay standing as he snapped out of his reverie to find Peter calling him, waving a hand in front of his face.
"Hey? You okay?" he asked, slowly lowering his arm and pinning him with a concerned look.
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. We uh…we better get goin', huh? Wouldn't wanna still be here when Daddy Stark and Papa Rogers get here," he rambled, stepping well away from Peter and making his way back around to the driver's door and unlocking the car.
He could feel Peter's puzzled gaze on him but stubbornly kept his head lowered.
"So where will it be, Petey? I can drop you off to see your aunt if you like?"
He could hear the scuff of the other man's footsteps as he made his way over to the passenger side door.
"Wait, that's it? You're…you're done helping me?"
Before he could think it through, Wade's head snapped up and met Peter's gaze from across the roof of the car.
"You said it yourself, you're tight with The Avengers. What the hell would you still need me for?"
A flash of anger and…no, Wade had to be seeing that wrong. There was no way that there was actually hurt in Peter's eyes.
"So what…this is you resigning as my bodyguard, Kevin Costner?"
"You don't need another bodyguard. You already have seven," the merc mumbled before pulling open the door and climbing into the driver's seat.
"Oh yeah, they've been doing a great job so far," he heard Peter growl under his breath before doing the same, slamming the door so hard that it shook it the car.
"So, where to Miss Daisy?" Wade asked, trying to inject some levity into the tense atmosphere.
If Peter's folded arms and rigid posture were anything to go by, he wasn't in the mood for banter.
"Sally's Diner. Me and my aunt meet there every week at this time for lunch. Step on it. I don't want to be late."
The mercenary nodded, putting the key into the ignition, ignoring the slight shake to his hand and forcing himself to focus on the road in front of him.
And to think…the morning had started off so promising.
This was what happened when he deluded himself into thinking that he could actually have nice things…
"Is it…is it safe for you to be out in public, like this? Maybe you and your aunt should go home and—"
"I thought you resigned as my bodyguard?" Peter cut across Wade sharply as they sat outside Sally's Diner twenty-five minutes later.
It had been one hell of a tense drive, for both of them. While that morning, the air was punctuated with Wade's off-key singing and Peter's occasional observations, the last half-hour was spent in stone-cold silence, the former focussing on the road in front of him and the latter determinedly staring out of the passenger-side window.
The merc's mouth snapped shut as he nodded, still facing forward in his seat.
"Well, thanks, I guess…" the brunet murmured before leaning forward and placing his hand on the door handle.
Wade watched silently as Peter exited the car, slamming the door behind him. Swallowing the awful dread sensation that was rising up his throat, he forced himself to open the passenger side window and yell after him:
"So I'll see you around right, Watson?"
Peter halted in his tracks several feet from the car, his shoulders tense. Slowly, he turned, barely enough to reveal one side of his face.
"I don't know, Wade," he called, his tone stiff, "will you? You're so hot and cold lately, who knows if you'll just change your mind last second…"
With that, he continued on his way, thundering towards the diner without a backwards glance.
The merc let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding as he watched him go.
"I'm such an idiot…"
[No arguments here]
"You were the ones that said it was a stupid idea to kiss Petey!" Wade growled, starting the car and speeding down the street like bat outta hell.
{Since when do you actually listen to us?}
[And you heard Petey, you're so hot and cold]
{Always changing your mind}
[Always second guessing yourself]
{And now you've lost him forever}
[Just like everyone else you've ever given a damn about]
{Think it's time to go back to daydreaming about Spidey instead?}
[Even though last time you saw him he was a gigantic douche]
{Your crush on him was always easy}
[You always knew it was unrequited, so it was easier than this anyway]
{Less painful}
[Safer]
{You did hear Petey say that he wanted him to help Stark and Rogers case the joint}
[You could help catch who's after Petey and go back to crushing on Spidey in person. Talk about killing two birds with one stone]
{Pissing off Stark is just an added bonus}
[And you haven't seen Spidey in months, wouldn't it be nice to get back that rapport?]
{The banter?}
[It'd help you get your mind off Petey]
Well, if nothing else sold it, that did.
"Fine. I'll head back to the warehouse. It'll be good to see Spidey again…maybe I could even grill him about his relationship with—"
[The whole point of this is to stop thinking about Peter!]
"Right. Stop thinking about Peter. I can do that. No problem."
{Well that was about as convincing as Paris Hilton's attempt at an acting career}
[Or singing career]
{Or any career at all, really}
Wade Wilson was going to kiss me. Fucking Deadpool was going to kiss me. And I was going to let him. What the hell is wrong with me?!
Have I lost my mind?
Is this what crazy feels like?
Have I been drugged?
Am I that desperate for human interaction?
Human affection?
…Am I really that lonely?
Peter Parker was fuming.
He had always been the type that while it took a lot for him to get angry, when he did, he got furious.
Today was one of those days.
He just…didn't know why.
That was a lie. He did know why.
You wanted him to kiss you…and you're mad because he didn't.
What the actual fuck?!
"Uh oh. I know that look," Bruce Banner remarked as Peter burst into the lab, storming across the room, running his hands through his hair.
"Peter…you okay, buddy?" the scientist continued, his tone tinged with concern as he watched the younger man pace back and forth.
"So stupid," the brunet grumbled to himself, "so goddamn stupid!"
"What are you—"
"Does Tony still keep my spare suit in the vault?" Peter cut across Bruce's attempt to figure out what the hell was going on with him, eyes ablaze with a dangerous flash.
"Uh…yeah," Banner murmured with a furrowed brow, "I think so. Why?"
"Because," the younger man ground out, still jittery, his dark eyes filled with fury and determination, "I think it's about time I get back into the field. They messed with my aunt, Bruce. My aunt. I'm not letting the bastards away with that! Where is she?"
"Playing pool with Clint, last time I checked," Bruce responded, his face an odd mixture of concern and amusement, no doubt of the comical image the older woman beating his teammate's ass at pool conjured.
Peter nodded before turning on his heel and thundering out of the room without a backwards glance.
Bruce's eyebrows shot up his forehead as he stood alone once more.
"Why do I feel like I'm missing something?"
You're deflecting…Peter's mind whispered devilishly to him as he stormed down the corridor of the tower, berating him all the way.
You are beyond furious and frightened that they went after Aunt May…but that's not what's fuelling you now.
You're pissed at Wade.
You're frustrated at yourself.
You're freaked out at what you nearly let happen.
And you're terrified at the overwhelming sense of disappointment you felt when that jackass interrupted you…
Jaw clenched, Peter shook his head, trying desperately to stop his rapidly derailing train of thought as he neared Ops. He didn't have time for this. Someone was trying to kill him. Someone had broken into his childhood home and ransacked it. That was what he had to focus on.
His hammering heart eased a little, a small smile forming on his face as he heard the tell-tale laughter of his aunt, seconds before she came into view, a giant grin on her face as she potted the black ball causing Clint to double over, groaning in frustration.
"You have got to be kidding me! Are you sure you're not cheating?!"
"I've no need to cheat, Mr Barton. I'm just that good," May winked before her grin grew larger at the sight of her nephew.
"Oh Peter, you're here! Just in time to see me take even more of Clint's money!"
The brunet shook his head at her, ignoring his teammate's wounded expression and crossing the room, enveloping her in a tight hug.
"Did you have a good night?" he asked, his words muffled against her shoulder.
"Oh, the best!" May exclaimed as they broke the hug, staring up at him, her eyes dancing with delight, "did you have a nice time with Wade?"
Peter faltered, his smile fading as he felt Barton's eyes burning a hole in the back of his head.
"Uh…it was fine, yeah," he murmured, not able to meet his aunt's gaze.
May stared at him for a moment, the beat of silence giving in to the rising tension. Peter bit his lip, forcing himself not to fidget.
No doubt feeling sorry for her nephew, after what felt like an eternity, May broke the quietness that descended on them.
"Did you know Jarvis is a remarkable chess player?"
"Admittedly not as remarkable as you, Mrs Parker," Jarvis' dulcet tone omitted around the room.
"You've been making friends I see," Peter smiled softly, relieved at the subject change, he and Clint exchanging a glance before he turned back to her.
"Yes, your…colleagues are very welcoming," she replied, something unidentifiable crossing her features that puzzled Peter.
"They're not my—"
Her quirked eyebrow made the rest of his sentence stick in his throat.
It was never something they directly discussed. It was something that they danced around for as long as he could remember, a notion that passed like ships in the night but never made direct contact. She knew. He knew that she knew. And she knew that he knew that she knew. May Parker was a smart woman. Peter Parker wasn't always subtle. He'd been doing this for over seven years now. Ample time for various math to be done. And May had always been good at math…
"I uh…I have to check in with Mr. Stark about work. You okay to hang out here for a little longer?" Peter opted to say instead, not wanting to insult his aunt's intelligence, but still not quite ready to be one hundred percent open.
"That's great, don't worry about me. Just means I have more time to win more money," she smirked, tilting her head at Clint.
"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh?" the archer asked, folding his arms.
"That's how it's gonna be," the older woman replied smoothly, smirk growing larger and smugger, "how much money does a superhero have, anyway?"
Peter left the room and made his way down to the vault, finding comfort in knowing that his aunt would be fine.
Clint on the other hand…he had his work cut out for him.
"This hit, that ice cold, Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold. This one, for them hood girls, them good girls, straight masterpieces! Stylin', while in, livin' it up in the city. Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent, gotta kiss myself I'm so pretty!"
[Bruno Mars he is not]
{Why does he keep insisting that he can sing?}
[Delusions of grandeur]
{Or just straight up delusions}
"Girls hit your hallelujah—woo! Girls hit your hallelujah—woo!" Wade continued to sing, ignoring his boxes as he surveyed the warehouse, trusty binoculars over his eyes.
[It isn't girls that you want to hit your hallelujah]
{Well, not at the moment, anyway}
[Although…that Morena Baccarin]
{Wowza}
[Hubba hubba]
{Writer lady approves}
[Still…she's no Pete—]
"I thought we weren't mentioning him," Deadpool remarked coolly, trying to appear nonchalant and fooling nobody.
[Stickin' to that, are we?]
{It's so much more fun not to}
"I hate you."
{We know you mean love!}
[You do gotta wonder what Petey Pie is doing right now…]
{He's probably busy having his obligatory 'big gay freak out' that most guy goes through at some point}
[I'm not sure Petey's gay…and if he was, he wouldn't be for Scarface. Now Spidey on the other hand…there's a man any self-respecting guy would go gay for]
"How would you know? You've no idea what he looks like," Wade grumbled at Yellow, still scouring the perimeter of the warehouse for any sign of life.
[Oh he's hot. Trust us. We've got a sixth sense for these things]
{He and Petey together would be even hotter}
[I bet they get up to all kinds of freaky shit. Can you imagine the acrobatics? Those web-shooters would surely come in handy in the boudoir]
{I've always been partial to the phrase 'come in handy.' Kinda sounds like something Spongebob would say instead of 'jerk off'}
"Shut up," Wade growled, growing impatient with his boxes' nonsense.
Before they could retort, a sudden movement to the side of the warehouse caught the merc's attention.
[Well if it isn't Dorothy, Tin Man and their little dog Toto]
Wade watched silently as Captain America, Iron Man and Spider Man approached the building in a tactical formation, clearly scoping out the place in hopes to penetrate it.
{Still not a good enough reason to use the word penetrate}
"Petey took my advice then," Deadpool couldn't help but mutter to himself as he got out his listening equipment, trying desperately to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that was rising in his chest at seeing Spider Man again after such a long time.
After turning a few dials, Wade held up the large cone-shaped contraption to his ear and listened, faint voices now audible.
"…that clear? We stick to the plan," Steve Rogers was saying in his serious I've-been-through-many-wars tone.
"Crystal," Stark and Spider Man responded in unison, albeit much less enthused than their teammate.
"What do you see in there, Stark?"
[Legolas! What do your elf eyes see?]
"At least three dozen bodies…and something big, lit up like a Christmas tree," Tony remarked, clearly intrigued by what he was picking up from inside.
"Okay, we do this like we discussed. In and out. Natasha and Clint are on backup if needed, so if you run into any trouble…" he trailed off, his words clearly directed at Spider Man.
"I got it, Cap," the webbed wonder responded somewhat impatiently before shooting his webs up at an open window and swinging through.
Wade watched as the other two Avengers each took up positions on either side of the warehouse and entered as swiftly and covertly as their colleague.
"Well boys," the Canadian murmured to himself, unsheathing his katanas and leaping down from his vantage point, poised and ready for a fight, "looks like it's show time!"
Lucas Daniels was a patient man. He always had been. First, in the military, when he had drill-sergeants yelling in his face, their spit landing on his cheeks and all he wanted to do was snap their necks, then when he came back home to the mundane and dreary, each day running into the next until all that was left was a monotonous routine that he despised more than any battlefield. Still, he remained patient. Because he knew that he was here for a grander reason than foot soldier or ex-military glorified baby-sitter for the rich and famous.
He was too smart and uniquely skilled not to have an ostentatious plan. Something that would pull him out of the depths of drivelling civilian life and into the light of something bigger, bolder and more ballsy than anything he'd ever been a part of.
Enter Chenko.
Admittedly, he had had doubts when the plan was first initiated. He had not been privy to the full picture and was left floundering on more than one occasion.
But that was all behind him now.
Chenko had come to him, finally. After all the waiting, his patience, his one constant in his life, had paid off.
He knew all aspects of the plan now.
And he was to initiate Phase Two.
Quite the honour.
"That's it, Mr Blye. Lean back…it'll be all over soon," he murmured quietly, tipping back the slab that Joe was strapped to and adjusting the overhead light.
"What…what are you doing to me?" Blye cried out, struggling against his restraints.
"Relax, Mr Blye…it'll be over soon," Daniels cooed condescendingly, tightening the wrist straps before walking around the other side of the slab and picking up a clip board.
"Pulse is elevated," he noted aloud to the dictaphone that rested in his shirt pocket, "that's to be expected under the circumstances. It's not a concern. All perimeters have been met for the initiation of Phase Two. To commence in ten, nine…" he began to count down, placing a gas mask over his face before grabbing a large canister that stood to his left and began fastening it to the oxygen tank.
"Seven, six…" he continued to call, ignoring Blye's panicked protests, placing an oxygen mask over the frenzied man's face and putting his other hand on the dial to the canister.
"Five, four…" he dropped his voice to a whisper, watching intently as Joe's eyes flickered closed, rolling back into his skull.
"Three, two—"
"Stop what you're doing and turn around. Slowly," a very familiar voice interrupted the countdown.
"I can't do that, Captain Rogers," Daniels called over his shoulder, his hand still poised on the valve.
"Step away from the table and put your hands up or I'll be forced to take action," Steve continued, his tone more dynamic than before.
"You do what you gotta do, Captain…and I'll do what I gotta do," Daniels murmured, just before he whirled around rapidly, pulling a pistol from his holster and shooting off three times in the super-soldier's direction.
Those shots proved to be quite the domino effect. Seemingly out of the woodwork, seven other men came firing at Steve, each with semi-automatic shotguns, while three approached Spider Man from the east and four others ascended on Iron Man from the west.
The room erupted into chaos filled with bullets, shattered glass, yelling, bullets, beams of light, webs, more bullets and—swords?
"I'm too hot (hot damn), called the police and a fireman, I'm too hot (hot damn) make a dragon wanna retire man, I'm too hot (hot damn) say my name you know who I am!" Deadpool sang maniacally over all the bedlam as he burst down into the room via a glass opening in the ceiling, landing adroitly, bullets ricocheting off his katanas as he expertly deflected them.
The man known as Mike gaped openly at him, standing just feet away, gun laying lax in his hand, forgotten in the shock of it all.
"I'm gonna uptown funk you up," Deadpool smirked, approaching the robust man with a swagger to his step, "don't believe me? Just watch!"
With that, he leapt three feet in the air, launching himself at the other man, roundhouse kicking him in the face.
His scream of agony pierced through the air as he stumbled back, falling hard onto the warehouse floor, dust rising up and around him.
"I don't know about you," Wade purred as he advanced on the terrified man, his movements akin to the cat who got the canary, "but I'm in the mood for some pot-bellied pork!" he finished gleefully, pointing his katana at Mike's stomach, it gleaming menacingly.
"Deadpool!" a shout halted his ministrations, "no killing!"
Wade's head swerved to be right, his eyes falling on the familiar red and blue suit that was currently zipping around three perps, dodging their bullets with an acrobatic flair, swinging in loops around the rafters.
"Spider Man!" the Canadian exclaimed warmly, looking up, his voice adopting a conversational tone, "long time, no banter! How've ya been?"
There was a beat that Wade used to kick Mike in the face as he stupidly tried to get up and Spider Man shot his webbing at another perp's feet, causing them to trip and fall to the floor with a heavy thud.
"I'm kinda busy here," he called as he narrowly dodged a bullet, "can we catch up later?"
Deadpool laughed as his katana slit into the thigh of another criminal, eliciting a blood-curdling scream, "sure thing, Spidey. Rain-check!"
"Not to interrupt your date-planning or anything guys, but could one of you maybe go check on the guy strapped to the table?" Tony snarled in their direction, luring two men away from what was clearly dangerous and highly flammable chemicals to where he could safely disarm them.
"On it!" Wade called, practically skipping over to the slab, knocking two culprits' heads together on the way.
"Well hello there, Joe," he sing-songed as he reached the table, seeing that the man was wide awake, staring up intensely at him, his dark eyes containing an odd glaze as if he were in some sort of trance.
"Now, I know we've had our differences…" Deadpool murmured distractedly as he worked on undoing the many bonds covering the man's body, "but Tin Man over there says that I gotta save ya so…how about ya just be a good little hostage and cooperate, hmm?"
As the last of the restraints fell away from Joe's wrists, he suddenly sat bolt upright, and before Wade could react, he had launched himself at him, their chests colliding roughly and knocking them both to the floor with a loud thump.
"What the—what did I just say? This is the opposite of cooperating! Bad hostage! Bad hos—" Deadpool was cut off as Joe wrapped his hands around his throat, squeezing hard enough to make his eyeballs bulge out of his skull.
With strangled gasps, Wade tried to force the other man off him but found himself struggling.
[Is it wrong that we're a little turned on by this?]
{Does little Wadey have a submission and asphyxiation kink?}
[I don't think it's just the choking that's cutting off valuable blood supply to his brain]
"I shoulda…turned you into a human sheshkabab…when I had the chance!" the merc gasped out before finally summoning the strength to shove Joe off of him, straddling him and pulling his hands behind his back.
{Huh. Little Wade also has a domination kink}
[And a bondage kink]
{And a voyeur kink}
[Hell, he has all the kinks!]
{Greedy little meat-stick, isn't he?}
"Could you…stop calling it little? You'll give me…a complex!" Wade scolded his boxes in between catching his breath as he finished tying up Joe.
[Oh goody. Another one to add to the collection]
{Three more and we'll have the whole set!}
Joe continued to struggle, growing more and more violent as Wade kept him restrained. It was proving to be a full time job that he couldn't afford right now as two other perps made a bee-line for him.
"Hey—hey buddy! Keep it together, huh? We're the good guys…well, they are," Deadpool gestured to where Spider Man and Captain America were now battling four more bad guys back to back, "so how about you stop acting like a rowdy chihuahua and chill the fuck out?!"
Nothing seemed to be getting through to Blye however as he mindlessly continued to try hitting and kicking the mercenary, now frothing at the mouth like rabid dog.
"Gross. Say it don't spray it, dude," Wade grimaced before he yelled over to Tony who was busy sticking all his bad guys together with some sort of adhesive, "hey Egg-Head! You know what the fuck is goin' on with this guy? If he keeps acting like this, I'm gonna have to take him out back and give him what's what. Ol' Yeller Style!"
That caught everybody's attention.
In a tactical formation, both Captain America and Spider Man moved closer to Wade and Joe as Tony had Jarvis run some preliminary scans.
"It's whatever was in that canister. It's messing with his brain chemistry. He's raging out. He's lost all higher function like conscious thought. He's…regressing into a basser state," Stark explained hurriedly, scanning the abundance of medical equipment and drugs he saw in the cordoned off area that had once housed Blye.
"What is this?" Wade gaped, eyes glued to Joe as he continued to drool excessively, his eyeballs dancing around in his sockets, "a Treehouse of Horror episode?"
Knocking the last guy unconscious, Steve straightened up and fixed Daniels with a permeating stare as he lay slumped on the floor, having gotten the full whack of justice via his adamantium shield to the chest.
"It's over. Whatever you were planning here today, failed. If you ever want to see the sun from anywhere but a cell ever again, you'll answer my questions," he paused, descending down on one knee to look the man right in the eyes, his tone sharpening, "first…why are you trying to assassinate Peter Parker?"
Before anyone could reply, the sound of sirens and revving car engines broke through the beat of silence, whirring loudly, approaching from all directions outside.
The cops would be flooding the place in seconds.
Wade watched as Spider Man began to walk backwards.
"Uh Cap I…I should probably get going. You got this, ri—"
"SPIDER MAN! WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR THE ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF CIVILIANS OF NEW YORK CITY. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"
The three Avengers and Deadpool regarded one another in stunned silence, the dozens of unconscious bodies littering the floor around them.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO TAKE YOU BY FORCE!"
[Kinky]
{Not funny! They're trying to arrest Spidey!}
"Spider Man," Stark spoke suddenly, trying to catch the younger man's attention, "go. We'll get this all straightened out, I swear. But in the meantime, get the hell outta here…don't let anybody see you. The last thing we need is a city-wide man-hunt."
It seemed the webbed-wonder didn't need to be told twice. With barely a nod, he took off, swinging up to the now Deadpool-made sun roof and out of sight.
Hardly a second later, dozens of police officers broke through the door of the warehouse, scattering in all directions.
"It's alright officers. We have it handled," Rogers began in a calm tone, raising both his hands in a show of peace.
[I think that's our cue to leave]
Quickly and covertly, Deadpool took off, weaving in and out of the crates that lined the warehouse and towards the back entrance, out into the alley that eventually led back to the road that he and Peter had parked at this morning.
That seemed like an eternity ago now.
Before he could fall too fair down that particular rabbit hole, Wade forced himself forward, sheathing his kananas and taking off in a sprint, his athletic body proving to be handy as he scaled the opposite building neatly.
Unfortunately, it was only at the very last second that he noticed the police sniper that had set up shop on top of the adjacent building.
A bullet whizzed past his ear as he was suddenly jerked to the left and thrown against a wall, a heavy something pressing up tightly against him.
"Stay still!" a voice hissed in his ear.
"S-Spidey?" Wade gaped, starring down at the shorter man who looked quite dishevelled, his mask pulled half-way up to expose his jawline and mouth.
"They have me cornered. They—they're shooting at me!" he was rambling, jittery body in constant movement as he tried to form a plan.
"I-I'm not sure it's even the real cops," he gasped, clearly disturbed at how aggressive the law-enforcement officers were being, "I—I need to get over there, but I can't…lure them away."
Wade, in all this time, was only half-listening, instead trying to figure out how to get them over to the escape route Spider Man pointed to. A small smirk spread across his face when it hit him.
"Do you trust me?" he asked before waving his hand dismissively, "on second thought, don't answer that. Just—follow me."
With that, he took Spider Man's arm and dragged him towards the edge of the building, taking a pistol from nowhere and firing off some shots in the opposite direction to distract the cops, before leaping off the roof onto the fire escape of the neighbouring building and waving frantically at him.
"Come on! Before they see you!"
The sound of gunshots erupted behind him, but the web-slinger just focussed on jumping, landing adeptly beside the merc who then proceeded to pull him again by the arm and leap the final few feet off the fire-escape, down onto the ground.
They both landed heavily, tumbling, limbs akimbo, Spider Man on top of Wade.
Before they could even collect themselves, they heard the distant shouts of more police officers, approaching rapidly.
Brain buzzing a mile a minute, Spider Man leapt off Deadpool, pulling him up with ease, clawing at his mask until it was up around his nose, before shoving him towards the shadowy corner of the alley, pressing him against the stone wall.
"Hey what are you—oomph!"
Lips pressed roughly against his, cutting off whatever Wade was going to say.
For once, his boxes were completely silent. All he could feel, all he could see, all he could hear, all he could smell and all he could taste was Spider Man pressed against him, their lips joined, dead still.
Eyes fluttering closed, it was as if Wade's mind and body were completely disconnected, his body on autopilot, his brain taking a break in the passenger seat as he opened his mouth and ran his tongue along the web-slingers bottom lip.
A soft gasp escaped the shorter man, his shoulders tensing for a split second before relaxing.
Just when Wade was about to pull away, his brain moments from coming back online and freaking the fuck out, Spider Man pressed even further into him, opening his mouth wider, his hands coming up to clasp his shoulders, his fingers digging in almost painfully as his tongue met his.
Wade's heart hammered so hard in his chest that it beat in his throat. His hand moved on its own accord, wrapping around the shorter man's waist and pressing him even closer into him, their chests colliding roughly, the friction it created, so sweet…
It felt so…right. Every nerve ending in Wade's body was on fire, but in the best possible way. It was complete sensory overload. It was stronger than the pain. He was finally kissing Spider Man! After years and years of fantasizing and day-dreaming and jerking off to the idea, it was finally happening!
And yet…
There was an underlined sensation of dread clawing in the depths of his stomach, breaking through his momentary feeling of elation.
It also felt…wrong.
[Because he's not a cute bespectacled brunet, mayhaps?]
"I think I saw him go this way!" a voice shouted, it (and his boxes) the verbal equivalent of being doused with a bucket of icy water.
With a startled jump, Deadpool broke the kiss, he and Spider Man gasping desperately into each other's space, mouths still only inches apart.
"This isn't right. It should be raining and you should be upside down."
[By that logic you should also be Kirsten Dunst]
Those were the only words to come to mind, despite them not being the ones he had wanted to say. There were so many of those, so many 'what the actual fucks' and 'am I dreaming' and 'have I died and gone to heaven' but none of them could escape his throat because it was too stuck, a large lump forming, one that felt oddly like guilt.
He had nearly kissed Petey this morning.
And now he was capping off his evening by kissing Spidey.
[Boo you whore]
Spider Man on the other hand was now doing his best impression of a spider stuck in the bathtub, his jittery body bouncing about as if he were trying to move to several places at once.
"Public…public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable," he gasped, as if that explained everything when really it just confused Wade more.
He took a step forward, "Spidey what—"
"I-I gotta go. The cops are everywhere looking for me. I gotta…I gotta…" he trailed off, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck before his other shot out threw a web at the open dumpster.
The merc gaped, watching as the other man retrieved a back pack from it, pulling it harshly towards him and catching it.
[Is it…beeping?]
Before Wade could ask that very question, the Avenger took off without a backwards glance, sprinting off down the alley, keeping close to the walls and ducking into the shadows.
"Oh no. There's no way I'm just letting him kiss and run. I ain't that kinda girl!"
With that, Wade took off after him, his speed and agility proving him well as he fought to keep up.
He caught a glimpse of red and blue up to his right, ducking into a side-street.
The merc skid to a halt, forcing himself to take softer footsteps as he rounded the corner. He didn't want to startle the Avenger, knowing that tensions were high enough after the whole, you know, being on the run from the cops who were trying to kill him and also just experiencing that mind-blowing if a little guilt-ridden kiss…
{Wait up, is he stripping?}
The mercenary's eyebrows shot up as he squinted into the gloom, catching sight of Spider Man, who was, dare he believe it, actually stripping off his suit, rummaging through the backpack and pulling out a pair of jeans.
[Well fuck, now we know we're definitely asleep]
Wade was just about to contradict Yellow when Spider Man turned his head slightly to the right, basking the side of his face with the soft light of the street lamp.
His whole world ground to a screeching halt. It was if everything finally slotted into place. The last puzzle piece transforming the once blurry picture into a one thousand inch, high resolution, high definition image of what he had in some way always known.
He'd recognise those hazel eyes anywhere.
"Holy shit," he gasped, hardly believing his eyes, "Peter Parker is Spider Man!"
[No shit, Sherlock]
This gargantuan chapter is dedicated to mytrexhasfleas for being wonderful :D
Surprised you didn't dedicate it to Matt Murdock.
Oh, you're just jealous.
That you binge-watched all of Daredevil, are crazy-obsessed with Rosario Dawson, and are in awe of Mister-I-see-like-a-bat-but-can't-be-called-Batman? Puh-lease.
Don't worry, Wade. You're still my favourite.
Damn pan.
Pan?
Well, I'm not straight, so…
You seem to taking the news that Peter is Spider Man remarkably well.
And you seem to actually be a competent adult sometimes, when really you're a giant child that's far too obsessed with fictional characters. See? We're all capable of hiding things.
I take it from your bitchy tone that you're pissed.
The only bitch I am is Head Bitch In Charge.
In charge of what exactly?
Being pissed at Petey. Which I am and will be for a long time.
Uh oh. I can see the passive aggressive destruction already.
Let's just say that I see a lot of squished spiders and caps being left off toothpastes in his future…