Due to the injuries May insisted he take the rest of the week off school. With his powers still down and out he had to agree. The bruised ribs were a nuisance before, the multitude of injuries he was now sporting were debilitating.

He insisted his aunt not miss any more work, she was having a hard-enough time trying to do it on her own, she didn't need to miss a weeks pay because he had a hero complex.

That morning though he silently wished she had insisted. He literally crawled to the bathroom. His ribs kept him constantly curled in on himself with a bruised hip adding to the problem.

He probably could have counted how many times he had been kicked the day it happened but now his whole body just looked like a bruised, morbid mess.

After pulling himself onto the toilet he thanked whatever gods were listening that he hadn't soiled himself in doing so.

His stomach rumbled and he cringed at the thought of the distance it was to the fridge. With a sigh he cleaned himself up, and even managed to get to his feet to baby-step his way to the kitchen.

"Damn Baby-boy! Who played nick-nack paddy-whack all over your face?" Came an annoyingly cheery voice as soon as Peter entered the kitchen.

The teen had not been expecting the Merc to be there, and in fact hadn't seen him in so long he almost forgot Mr. Pool liked to play the game, scare-the-shit-out-of-Peter.

Without his abilities he couldn't even pass off his fright as a small jump. Peter flinched back violently and tripped over himself. He landed on his back with a resounding thud.

The pain came a second later and the teen could do nothing but clench his eyes closed until it passed.

Preoccupied with not passing out he was unaware that Deadpool had used a finger to lift his shirt a bit.

The Merc's voice was no longer sing-song.

"Who did that to you?" He asked. An edge that Peter was not used to was in the tone.

"Some asshole," Pete muttered slowly rolling to his side, red flushing his cheeks once he noticed the Merc staring at him.

"What asshole?"

"Big guy, I didn't catch his name. Wasn't happy when I told him stop beating on a woman."

Deadpool, with surprisingly gentle hands, helped him stand and then walked him over to the sofa where he could lie back without anything hurting. Peter would have thanked him but was stunned into silence when he looked up to see Wade had pulled his mask off.

Peter had never seen Wade's actual face and the scarred tissue was hard to miss. Still, something about the expression was what made the teen pause before speaking.

"Wade? Are you mad at me?"

The man stiffened.

" . .You?" He asked again, his brows furrowed.

Peter shudders.

"I don't know his name. I was walking home from school, he was beating on some woman and I stepped in, after calling 911." The teen's voice is uncertain as Wade does not move, nor does he speak. "I'm ok. Just some bruises."

Peter is cut short when Wade pulls his mask on roughly and walks out the front door, making it slam behind him.

The young hero, sits there, stunned. Unsure if it was what the man did or what he did that just made Deadpool angry. With a quick check Peter groans, his cellphone was back in the bedroom.

Grunting in pain, he pulls himself up and shuffles back to his room. Phone in hand he fires off about fifteen messages to Wade. None of which gets a reply.

Sighing, he figures the Merc will talk when he had cooled down.

After flipping through the news, Peter is happy to hear the fire at the chemical plant has finally be extinguished which would hopefully let his powers get back on track.

Wade sat very still watching the crack house with intensity.

Getting the man's name wasn't hard. The Police station was buzzing with annoyed voices, stating their displeasure the prosecutor wasn't going to go ahead with the charges against the child-beater, since he turned over on a higher up.

The Merc was ok with that decision. It meant the man wa out on the street, where Wade could easily find him and he had so many fun ideas for this man. No one was going to touch Peter and not pay for it.

He had read the man's file. It included assault, assault with a weapon, unlawful containment, rape and the cherry on top was a child-trafficking charge. That one would have got him killed anyway but since his latest victim was Wade's Babyboy, this man was going to experience ALL his sins first hand. Every. Last. One.

By lunch time there is no change, so Peter must shuffle into the kitchen on his own, to make something to eat.

Banging on the door makes him jump and almost spill his fruit loops he had just managed to pour.

"Oh, geeze, come on! I am never this popular!" Peter moans. With care, he sets the bowl down and tries to make it to the entrance. About halfway there the door burst in and a very upset looking Cap barges in.

"PETE …" His eyes find Peter standing in the middle of the living room in all his abused glory. Peter can see he is shocked by his condition. "Matt said it was bad. But I didn't think …"

I shrug and turn back to the kitchen.

"Once that chemical is out of the air, I'll be back to my quick-healing, high-flying self." The teen assured him. A hand gently encased the young man's upper arm. Peter glanced back at the older hero confused.

"Have you left this apartment today?" He asks softly, almost scared.

"No …" Peter says. "Not really in the shape to do much."

"Have you spoken to anyone? About this?"

Confusion.

"Wade let himself in this morning. I don't think he was too pleased with the trouble I got myself into."

Realization flashes over Steve's face before he hugs the teen. Peter is very confused at this point.

"What's going on?"

"The cops are coming over to talk to you. Matt asked me to meet you here, as he wouldn't make it in time. The man that assaulted you … he was found dead an hour ago. Pretty gruesome. The police just need to ask you a few questions."

Peter's face loses all color before his hands begin to shake.

"Oh god! Steve … he asked me who did it! I told him I didn't know. But … oh god! Did Wade do this? Did he do this because of me?!"

Steve stares back at the teen, unable to answer the questions because he doesn't know either.

"What … what do I tell the cops!? Are they going to think I put a hit out on the man? Wade is a mercenary! Oh god!"

Full blown panic ensues. Peter can't breathe, his eyes blur and the world invades his head.

Cap catches him before he hit's the ground.

"Breathe kiddo. Breathe." Steve chants as he hugs the teen to his chest and gently rubs his back. He was usually pretty good with the kid, and could calm him down in a couple minutes, but this time Peter just couldn't seem to get a rein on himself. "Peter …" Steve tries softly. The boy doesn't look up, his hand clenches the sides of his head with his face twisted in pain. "Peter?" This time a little louder.

Peter Parker was upset that his actions might have gotten someone killed, but he was in pain because this was also the moment his senses decided to come back on line, in one horrible wave. His skin hurt from the fabric of his shirt touching him, his ears bled from just the pounding of his own heart, so when Steve Rogers lost his cool and yelled his name, Peter growled and pulled away with force.

His strength knocked the super soldier back a few feet.

Leave it to Peter to piss off the most patient man in the world, on the one day he really needed him.

Steve is staring at him hard.

"The cops will be here is a minute, you need to get a hold of yourself," The man stated somewhat coldly.

Peter stares back at him, unable to voice the fact his veins are on fire. A knock comes at the door and Steve gets up to answer it. The teen manages to pull himself up and onto the sofa before the cops enter.

He hoped his healing factor would hold off for a couple minutes, so the cops aren't sitting there to watch his bruises disappear, but the way his body burns he knows he doesn't have much time.

"Mister … Mister Rogars! W-what an honor it is to meet you S-sir!" One of the cops exclaims. Steve takes it in stride and shakes the men's hands. "We are here to talk to Peter Parker, what are you doing here?"

"Peter is one of Tony Starks interns. I have come to know the boy quite well and since his aunt is not home I said I would sit with him while you talked."

"Excellent. Is the boy awake?"

Steve let the two uniformed police officers into the living room where Peter was trying his best not to cry at the intense pain, but not break a sofa in two either.

"Hello Peter, how are you feeling today?"

It sounded like nails against chalkboard, but the teen kept it together enough to answer. He was just hoping he wasn't screaming.

"Been better." Was the honest answer.

"We won't take up too much of your time. We must ask you a couple questions."

Peter managed to endure as they asked him the normal where you were, what were you doing questions. They never asked about him, maybe, hiring a psychopath mercenary to kill his assaulter, so he never told them.

Finally, Steve clicked the door closed behind them and Peter could relax enough to register the feeling of acid searing his skin from the inside out.

Turning, Captain America had every intention of giving the angsty teen a firm piece of his mind. Instead he paused and watched in morbid curiosity as one of the bruises on the boy's face rippled in colour and started to fade from black to purple to yellow before his very eyes.

The increased healing should have offered relief but instead seemed to be causing more pain then anybody should have to endure.

The boy sobbed as a sicken crackle came from his broken ribs binding themselves back together. Steve flinched, feeling like a complete ass for getting mad at the boy.

Carefully he sat down beside Peter and moved him on to his chest so he had someone to hold onto that wouldn't break under his grip.

After an intense twenty minutes the boy passed out.

A few hours later a sing-song voice carried through the house.

"Petey? Where are ya Babyboy?"

Deadpool casually strolled into the living room to find the teen curled up on Steve Rogers. The Captain didn't move but his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Spangles! What a pleasant surprise! I never pegged you as a cuddler." The Merc flopped down in a chair opposite the duo. The teen did not stir. Deep in a restorative slumber.

"You have a lot of nerve coming back here Merc," Steve growled, "Cops came and questioned him on his whereabouts. Practically broke him thinking a man got killed because of what he said."

"Pffft. A man got killed because he put hands on a teenage boy. And not for the first time I might add. That shit-eater has a long history of beating up women and kids."

Cap shook his head.

"That's not what Peter wanted. The kid has morals Wade. This sort of thing effects him more than you know."

"Not his fault. Asshole had it coming."

Steve knew the Merc couldn't understand that Peter took everything bad that happens and puts it on his own shoulders. Even if the man deserved everything Deadpool gave him, Peter would find a way to blame himself.

Deadpool is strangely silent as he stares at Peter. Steve sees what he is looking at. The bruises on the boy's arms are starting to ripple and disappear.

"He's a mutant?" Wade asks leaning forward.

Steve doesn't answer him, that wasn't his place to say but he does speak.

"You need to leave Merc. I don't think I like you around him."

"Oh, come on Spangles! If you really gave a shit you would have been out there doling out the punches in my stead." Came the sharp reply. "Where were his big mighty friends when he was getting the shit kicked out of him to begin with? Ironballs couldn't be bothered to send a car for his precious intern?"

The muscles in Steve's chest tightened and he made a move to stand but Peter moaned a little and gripped his shirt. He couldn't get up without disturbing the boy. Instead he just glared.

Wade smirked under his mask.

"I did what you heroes were too scared to do. Took care of the problem."

"Without asking him what he wanted." Steve came back with sharply.

Wade shrugged.

"Babyboy is too good for this world. I'll get my hands dirty, so he doesn't have too."

Steve shakes his head.

"You are impossible. I just told you that hurts him, and you still don't care."

The two know they weren't going to agree but neither are willing to back down.

"Steve?" Comes a soft, sleepy question.

"Yes, Peter?" Steve answers, his eyes unwavering on the Merc with a Mouth.

"Can I go to bed? My head hurts." The teen was still mostly asleep and unaware of what was happening around him.

"Sure kiddo."

Steve stands, easily picking the boy up. He gives the other man a last glare before carrying the teen to his room.

A couple days later Peter is feeling much better. He is sitting in his window reading when a voice makes him look up. He had heard the Merc coming.

"Babyboy! Back on your feet I see."

Peter smirks up at the man, hanging from the fire escape like a big red monkey.

"Much better now. Steve told me you guys had a talk while I was out."

"Talk? That walking saint-incarnate lectured me like a school girl! Didn't even spank me to teach me a lesson!"

Peter snorted a laugh.

"You would have had to much fun with that." The teen admitted but then looked serious. "He has a point though. I know I get into a lot of trouble, but you can't go kill everyone that looks at me the wrong way."

"Look at you the wrong way? The man beat you to a pulp. I am not apologizing." The man folded his arms and looked away pointedly, still hanging upside down.

"I don't want you too. You are who you are, and as much as I wish you wouldn't kill people, I can't stop you. But I do ask that if it pertains to me, let me make that call."

This time the Merc snorts.

"You will never make that call."

They both look at each other.

"Fine. No stabby-stabby."

"Thank you."

The Merc hopped down and sat beside the teen.

"Soooooooo, what other powers you got? Anything fun? Can you transform into a hot chick?"

Peter rolled his eyes.

"Even if I could, I'd still be fifteen you pervert."