The encounter with Tony Stark had been a bit (pretty) scary for multiple reasons. It was the first time he had been shot, or rather the first time he had been hit with one (three) bullet. One of them had crossed his shoulder from side to side, luckily avoiding the bone completely, the other two had only brushed the skin on the right side at the level of the last rib and the hip, although they burned like hell. The scariest part of all, however, had been when Tony had exclaimed "you're a woman." If Peter had been alone, he would have jumped out the window and gone home even naked. The only reason he didn't do it was because Bruce was there. "What are your preferred pronouns?" was the first thing he asked when he took off his mask and asked no further questions on the subject. Even so, Tony's words had been terrifying, echoes of many of his nightmares. They had hurt deep down. Luckily, everything had ended well, better than he expected. Now he awaited a new suit, surely much better than his cheap sweatshirts, although for now he would have to stick with his homemade custom clothes.

Bruce had asked him to refrain from fighting until his wounds healed, but Peter could only hold back for the first night. The next day he was already patrolling the streets, although he did it in civilian clothes, the suit in the backpack over his good shoulder. It wasn't a good idea to swing from one building to another with about thirty stitches on your side. His healing factor was higher than that of a normal human, but he estimated that it would still take him about five days to close the bullet hole that went through his shoulder. He just hoped there wouldn't be any big crime until he was in better shape.

As soon as he thought this, he heard an alarm a couple of streets from where he was. He automatically raised his arm to throw a web, but luckily he remembered that he was dressed still as Peter Parker. He took off running and as soon as he found a dark place in an alley he took off his clothes and put on the blue and red tracksuit. It wasn't one of his best works, but he hoped he wouldn't have to use it for long.

It didn't take him long to show up at the corner of the phone shop they were robbing. He could see three men, one at the door pointing a gun around him, and another two gathering their loot inside. He supposed there would be a fourth man sitting in some nearby car ready to take them. What worried him the most was the clerk huddled in the corner of the store, and he didn't know if there was someone else in the back. When he appeared before the criminals, things went from bad to worse very quickly. He tried to protect the clerk they had taken hostage, but the tight space made it difficult for him. He heard a shot and protected the woman with his body. He expected the now familiar burning pain of a bullet, but it did not come.

"If you need a phone, I know a thrift store where they sell them very cheap. Trust me, I destroy mine in less than a week." He heard a man outside the store.

The criminals' attention focused on him. He took advantage of the moment to lead the woman to the back. Four more shots were heard and by the time he got out all three robbers were on the ground, their heads pierced. He saw a red shadow disappear around the corner and suddenly the police were in front of the store. He was barely able to escape swinging towards a skyscraper before they started shooting at him. When he reached the roof where he had left his backpack, he felt a pang go through his shoulder. He didn't need to look to know that the sweatshirt would be soaked in blood.

He leaned against the wall of the roof exit and sat on the floor. He peeled off his sweatshirt, frowning at the pain spreading up his side and shoulder. Yup, a lot of blood, he had popped more than one stitch. He hissed as he touched the skin around the stitches on the front.

"Hey, the superboy from the store, right?" a sudden voice exclaimed. Peter froze. "Woh! You have boobs!"

There it was, again. His heartbeat sped up, he couldn't breathe. He knew his face must reflect sheer terror, and even though the man couldn't see it thanks to his mask, somehow he realized it because the man raised his hands and stepped back.

"Wah, okay, dude. Lots of guys have boobs. I know a guy who has reaaally huge boobs," he exaggerated (or maybe not), spreading his arms in a circle all the way long. "His ass is also colossal and hard as stone. Or as steel rather, since he's steel. All of him. Can you imagine that?" he asked, pointing with both forefingers to his crotch with his knees bent.

"Who are you?" Peter asked, taking advantage of the second he had stopped talking.

"Oh, yeah. I'm Deadpool; DP or Pool for friends. Merc With a Mouth at your service," he introduced himself with an exaggerated bow. "Although you can call me whatever you want. Spidey-boy, right? I've just arrived in the city, but I've already read what they say about you in some newspapers. They're real assholes. One word from you and I'll take care of them. Whatcha say?"

Peter gaped at him. Did he never shut up? At least he had managed to forget that he was half naked in front of a stranger (twice in two days, what a record).

"Everything okay there? That's a lot of blood," he said with some concern in his voice (and in his mask, which was surprising).

"Uh... Yeah... I've pulled a few stitches, but it's okay. I'll go get them fixed again. And you?"

"Me?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"I couldn't see it, but... were you shot?"

"Oh yeah, but it's gone, see?" He poked his finger through a hole in his suit jacket, in the area of his belly. It came out with some dried blood, but it didn't seem to bother him. I'll have to patch the suit again, but otherwise I'm good as new. Do you need a ride? I can take you, but only in exchange for you taking me next time. Swinging through skyscrapers with webs coming out of your ass has to be mind blowing."

"They don't come out of my ass!" he exclaimed in a too high-pitched voice.

"You sure?" he asked with a confused expression.

"I'm sure!"

"But spiders pull their webs out of their ass."

"I'm not a spider! I'm Spider-man, but I'm not a spider. I make my webs in- in- in a laboratory." Telling him that he made them in his room would be a bit ridiculous. "And there are definitely no bodily fluids involved."

"Mm... Too bad," he mused thoughtfully and then shrugged and smiled (seriously, how did he do that with the mask?). "I'll keep thinking that they come out of your ass, it's more convenient for my fantasies." Peter had nothing to reply to that, he couldn't help but look at him with his mouth open. "Do I take you then?"

He took a moment to react, he was still assimilating that strange conversation. He shook his head before he was able to speak.

"N-no, I can go alone, thank you."

"Well, see you around then, Spidey-boy." Deadpool touched his belt and suddenly disappeared. Just like that, without moving a foot.

"But how..."

Peter stood for a moment looking at the place where the mercenary had been seconds before. He sighed and leaned against the wall with his head back. If the encounter with Stark had been terrifying, this had been the most bizarre encounter of his life.

Bruce scolded him for not listening to him, but Stark was too busy with the suit or one of his inventions so it wasn't so bad in the end. What annoyed him the most was that it might delay his healing for a day or two, although now it was easier to obey and stay home knowing that there was someone new protecting the city from petty criminals (he wasn't going to call him a superhero because he still remembered the bodies of those men on the shop floor. It was something he would have to talk to Deadpool about.)

He returned to the streets as soon as there was no risk that the wound would open, and this time in a new suit. It was tight, almost a second skin, but somehow it concealed his breasts more than the tops he normally wore (which wasn't difficult because he couldn't afford a real binder) and it also gave him some shape down there, just enough to hint. Deadpool's whistle when he saw him made him blush all the way to his ears (his obscene comments throughout the entire fight, even more so). He wasn't going to tell him to stop because (and he wasn't going to admit this either) he liked hearing it, but they did have something else to talk about.

"You can't keep killing," he said, standing in front of him with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

This was the second day they fought together not counting the robbery at the phone shop, and the second day he had to stop him from killing someone. It was twice as difficult to take on the criminals when he had to keep an eye on the mercenary as well (and now he knew that wasn't just a nickname).

"That's my job, Spidey," he replied with a confused expression.

"It's not true. I know what your job is, and I don't like it, but still this is not the same. No one is paying you to kill those people. We're here to protect people, including criminals. We can't... we can't be judge, jury, and executioner, okay? Our duty is to stop them and hand them over to the law so they can have another chance."

Deadpool snorted and leaned against the rooftop wall with his arms outstretched as if he were on a couch.

"Another chance? As soon as they get out of jail, if they go to jail, they'll go back to crime without a second thought."

"Maybe. Or maybe one of them, just one of them gets a job, a family and becomes a good citizen. If that happens it'll have been worth it," he explained vehemently, waving his arms like crazy in his attempt to make him understand.

"You're an idealist," Deadpool said, tilting his head to the side. He didn't seem affected in the least.

Peter sighed and sat down on the floor across from him. He was tired, stressed. He ran his hands over his head, but the effect wasn't the same if he couldn't pull his hair with the mask on.

"You'll have to leave," he murmured with his head down.

"What?"

"I can't let you kill anyone, I can't. And I can't keep preventing you from doing it while saving others, it's like facing two criminals at the same time. The next time you try I'll have to stop you, and I don't want to do that. That's why you have to leave." His voice was already pleading. He didn't know if he could win if he faced Deadpool, but he didn't want to do it, he could see a potential friendship there.

Deadpool was silent, motionless in his seemingly relaxed posture. Peter was a bit nervous, he didn't know how he was going to react. They hadn't talked about it, but from Deadpool's own comments he knew that he wasn't psychologically very stable.

"I won't kill anyone in New York," he finally said.

Peter raised his head and looked at him in surprise, almost holding his breath.

"Really?"

"If it's that important to you, I won't kill anyone in your city, but that's all I can promise."

Peter sighed, releasing his body of all tension. It was a real relief to hear that.

"I'll shoot them in the knees instead of in the head."

It's something at least.

Deadpool really struggled when they had to stop a bank robbery two days later. The robbers were more bruised than Peter would have liked, but all the hostages were safe and no one had been killed. It was obvious how hard it was for him not to shoot them directly in the head and aim for the knees instead, but he resisted the temptation (which was great because of a loudmouth criminal). When they met on a rooftop after having dropped off the criminals tied up tight for the police, he looked very proud.

"And did you see how he fell to the ground? But he wasn't able to drop the gun so bam, bam!" he exclaimed, making guns with his hands and pretending to shoot.

As if he hadn't been there, Deadpool was telling him how the robbers had been arrested as they lounged on the roof, sitting shoulder to shoulder with their feet dangling in the air. He let him continue and listened with a smile behind the mask. It was good that he was proud that he hadn't killed anyone.

"You don't think I deserve a reward for being a good boy?" he asked in a… suggestive voice? Although it only sounded childish.

Peter could see his lips moving under the mask as if he was making a kissing gesture, although he wasn't sure. He could feel his cheeks warming and a tingling in his stomach. Before losing his nerve, he lifted the mask just below his nose and leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. After all, he had to encourage good behavior.

He pulled his mask back down and jumped off the building before Deadpool reacted.

"Good night!" he said, swinging to the next building.

He heard an excited scream, but he could no longer distinguish if he said anything.

He couldn't sleep that night. He had kissed Deadpool (on the cheek and over the mask, but a kiss was a kiss). He had faced many villains, but with none of them he had ever been so nervous. He had to admit it, he did like Deadpool. He was funny, sarcastic, they shared the same sense of humor (even if his was a little darker), he laughed freely, and he didn't care what the world thought of him (at least not enough to stop being who he was). And, most importantly, he accepted Peter for who he was without question. It's true that he didn't know his true identity, but that was not the most important part for him. It was only a matter of time before he uncovered it to him, he was just waiting for the right moment.

The next day he was a little nervous while he put his normal clothes in his backpack and left them hidden in an alley (he no longer left them on rooftops because he didn't know if for some reason he was not going to be able to go up for them). He didn't know what the meeting with Deadpool was going to be like after that kiss. He rationally knew it wouldn't be awkward because Deadpool would say some inappropriate joke like he used to do to lighten the mood if things got tense, but that didn't stop the butterflies in his stomach.

However, the situation did not have time to get uncomfortable. As soon as he got out of the alley, he heard the sirens from the squad cars. He followed them to a warehouse, and Deadpool was already there, loud as ever. The dance started, and it was like any other day, as if they had been fighting together for years. And after that, another fight and a third one, the latter a little easier, because it was a busy night in New York.

They ended up resting on a rooftop when it was already dawn, the sky gradually turning red and yellow. They were sitting against the wall, next to each other, their arms loose at their sides as if they were paralyzed.

"So," Deadpool began as if they had been talking for hours (the chitchat they enjoyed during fights didn't count, they never said anything personal or relevant at those times), "I've been thinking I wish it were real. I mean, it was real, but you know, really feel it, skin to skin." Then he realized he was talking about the kiss. His face started to flush, and he forced himself to hold still in the same position he was in. "But, you know, for that I'd have to remove my mask and if I did you'd throw up, all over me probably, and then it'd be impossible for you to kiss me. A vicious circle of those, how much I hate them."

"Why was I going to throw up?" he asked confused.

Deadpool was silent for a moment, which was scarier than anything he could say. His fingers twitched and his hands hesitated between the edge of his mask and his belt. He finally took a deep breath and lifted the mask over his nose in one quick motion as if he feared he would lose the nerve. When Peter saw what was under the mask, he tried to hold back any reaction, but the emotions were so intense that a high-pitched moan escaped his lips. His eyes got wet just thinking about what (or who) could have caused those burns, how far did they extend, did they hurt?

"Shit, fuck, shit, fuck!" Deadpool exclaimed and raised his hand to his mask to lower it again, but Peter grabbed his wrist. He knelt in front of him, or rather on top of him, sitting astride one of his thighs to keep him from getting up and running away.

"No, no, sorry, sorry. It's not what you think, I don't want to throw up, it's... painful. It hurts me to think that this has happened to you, I'm... pissed off with whoever did it." Pissed off was a very soft word for what he was feeling. He was afraid to think too much about what he wanted to do to those people.

"Uuh~ Spidey pissed off, that turns me on," he joked, maybe to soften the moment.

Peter sighed, deeply grateful, and some tension left his body along with his nerves.

"I think we were talking about a kiss." Without hesitation he put his hand on the edge of the mask and removed it completely.

"What the hell?! You're a kid!" Deadpool exclaimed, and Peter's shy smile disappeared.

"Uh… uff!" Peter fell to the side as Deadpool jumped to his feet, not caring that the boy was sitting on top of him.

"Madre mía! Holy God in a trikini! How old are you?" he asked almost shouting, striding up and down the roof with his hands on his head as if trying to rip out his hair despite the mask that still covered half his face.

"Sixteen..." he said with barely a whisper, but enough for Deadpool to hear.

The mercenary froze for a moment, then turned, walked directly to the edge of the building, and jumped. An unrecognizable scream echoed from the rooftop. Before Deadpool had descended more than ten feet, Peter had wrapped him in his web only thanks to his quick reflexes and pulled him back up.

"No... no..." Peter tried to say between gasps, he was barely able to breathe and his body felt as if he'd been shocked. He sat next to Deadpool, one hand holding the web that held him still not daring to let go, and took several deep breaths until he caught his breath. "Don't do that again. Even if you can resurrect, I don't like it, I don't want you to die. Understood?"

"I'm a monster. I'm a fucking monster," Deadpool muttered before raising his voice again. "I usually kill people like me! And I make them suffer!"

"You're not a monster, you've done nothing wrong!"

"I've been fantasizing about a child!"

At that, the slight blush on Peter's cheeks spread to his ears and neck, but the shock disappeared when Deadpool started banging his head against the wall.

"Stop!" He put his hand behind his head to keep him from breaking it. "Listen, you haven't done anything wrong, okay? You didn't know I'm a minor so what you've... fantasized so far doesn't count. Besides, it's my fault, I should have told you when you started flirting, but I… I liked it, and I didn't think it was wrong." He lowered his head, bringing his free hand to the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "But if it's so important to you, we just have to wait. If that's the only problem?"

He bit his lip and still couldn't bring himself to look at his face. He wasn't sure what he was asking (lie, he did know, but he didn't want to hear the answer) nor did he know what he was proposing. It sounded much more serious than a kiss on the cheek.

"Believe me, if you weren't underage I'd be all over you like a dog in heat. Shit, shut up, you can't tell him that," he said to himself.

Peter sighed in relief and smiled.

"Then we just have to wait."

"Do you really want to wait to kiss an avocado like me? This spreads all over, you know?" he said, gesturing up and down his body with his arm still caught in the web.

The boy looked at him and smiled. He knew he would have to work hard to make that insecurity go away, at least regarding his interest in him. But he had a lot of time to do it, and it was worth the effort.

"Peter Parker," he introduced himself, extending his hand.

Deadpool looked at him in surprise and snorted.

"Wade Wilson."