[WHITE]
{YELLOW}
{Awaken, child.}
Peter didn't stir. He was still sitting at his desk, the chemistry textbook still open. The pages were stained with teardrops.
[WAKE UP, SPIDEY.]
Still nothing.
[If I had a hand, I'd slap the living shit out of him.]
{Should we just let him wake up on his own time?}
[No, let's scream until he gets a splitting headache. After all, we don't have vocal cords, so we can scream as loud and as long as we want.]
{Fine with me.}
[...]
{...}
[Are you going to scream?]
{I was waiting for you.}
[Oh, you're such an idiot.]
{Fine then. I'm not screaming.}
[Fine.]
Peter rubbed his eyes, raising his head slightly.
[Ah, and so he finally awakens!]
{How'd you sleep, Petey?}
"Horribly," Peter muttered. "And don't call me that."
{Well, go get dressed, because you're going to kill a lot of people today. Petey.}
Peter resisted the urge to strangle Yellow with his thought somehow. "Mm. Do I have to?"
{Yes,} Yellow said sternly.
Fuck. Peter did not feel like moving at all with the throbbing migraine he had.
[Yes, you do. Get dressed.]
Peter groaned and tossed on his suit. It was Peter's old Spidey suit, but black. And the spider emblem looked quite venomous and intimidating—he didn't remember what old Peter had done to make it so scary, but it didn't matter. It was done.
"My head hurts."
[And we didn't even scream.]
"What?"
[Nothing. Take an Advil or something.]
"You know that I have enhanced metabolism," Peter grouched.
{Try Ibuprofen, I hear it does wonders,} Yellow suggested.
[Are you an idiot? Advil is Ibuprofen.]
"You're not helping."
[Oh, Pete, I almost forget to mention. Do you know what day it is?]
"Erm, Thursday?" he guessed. He never really kept track of the day anymore.
[June twenty-third. Not Thursday.]
Fuck. No wonder his nightmares were worse than usual.
{Don't you dare start crying again. Peter Parker cried. The Spider doesn't feel.}
But it was so hard not to feel anything. It was the day that Gwen Stacy died. And despite the years that had passed since that day, the thought still stung him. It shouldn't have, not when it'd been so long. Not when she'd be so ashamed of who he was now.
[Get over her. She's behind you. Hold your head up because you're done with crying over a dead girl.]
Then his voice softened.
[Come on, Spidey. Don't you want to move on? Isn't it tiring, moping around one day every year, just sobbing and not taking any jobs? People are going to catch on. And if they know that the notorious Spider has a weakness, it's not going to be good. They'll hunt you down, eat you alive.]
{It was a long time ago when all you wanted was to become an Avenger. Aren't you glad those days are behind you? Besides, Norman and Harry Osborn's death dates are coming up. That calls for celebration, don't you think?}
The thought brought a small smile to Peter's lips. He remembered killing the father and son. He'd made it slow, painful. Bloody.
That was the day the boxes appeared. The moment the blade cut into Harry's skin, who'd really done nothing wrong other than be the son of Gwen's murderer.
Of course, though, Harry had no time to do anything wrong. He'd died the week after Gwen had before he'd really even processed the news.
{That's the spirit!} Yellow cried.
Peter hummed to himself as he swung through the cities. He still had his headache, but the migraine had dulled to a faint throb that he could easily push aside.
He was on his way to explode an elevator. Or, rather, not the elevator but a person inside.
{Tough for the other people inside!}
[We don't value their lives. What we value is money.]
{Food,} Yellow added.
[Especially waffles.]
Peter dropped to the ground in the alley behind Delmar's.
"You're making me hungry."
{Oh, we definitely appreciate this guy's sandwiches! Especially the number five with pickles.}
[Oh, and they gotta smush it down. It's not good if it's not smushed.]
"Mr. Delmar did say my aunt was hot once, though," Peter pointed out. He wondered why he brought it up when he'd been avoiding the subject of his aunt May for so long.
"Well, was she?" A certain red-and-black suited hero dropped down in front of Peter.
{Spider-sense who?}
[I don't think he's very happy that you threw a dick at him.]
{Would you be?}
Peter waved his hand in a shooing motion.
"All in the past. Right, 'pool?" He grinned at Deadpool.
"You're insane," Deadpool said. "And you threw someone's junk at me. And I didn't get tacos. So, understandably, I'm a little angry."
Peter laughed. The boxes started humming along to Gasoline.
"Sorry about the tacos. But I have somewhere to be, something to blow up, someone to kill. And I really don't like this day at all. Raincheck?"
"You said that last time." Deadpool drew his katanas and lunged. Peter sidestepped easily, plucking the blades from the hero's grip and bending them in half. If Deadpool was surprised, Peter couldn't tell from under the mask. "Those are hella expensive!"
"Are you insane like me? Been in pain like me?"
"Oh, I'll make you feel ten different levels of pain."
{Oh, we're a slut for pain. Aren't we?}
"Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me? Which is ironic, because I'm too young to drink."
[Details, Spidey, you're selling yourself out!]
{DP won't hurt us. Unless we're tied up and in the bedroom, right?}
Deadpool charged again, and this time Peter spread his arms—{Oh, this is like that scene from the Titanic!}—and let Deadpool tackle him. They rolled over and over on the ground, Peter laughing hysterically.
Deadpool grabbed one of his guns and held it to the Spider's head, who giggled in delight.
"We're getting somewhere! Oh, 'pool, isn't this just wonderful?"
"Move," Deadpool hissed, "and I will blow out your brains."
{Oh, that sounds like when Slade and Oliver first meet! 'Twitch, and I will open your throat.' And they share the name: Wilson! Oh, I love making connections!}
"Who?" Peter sounded confused.
[The wrong universe, Yellow!]
{Ollie's an old friend of mine,} Yellow continued pleasantly. {What a shame, what a waste of talent.}
"Shh—don't talk. I'm trying to contact Stark and tell him he owes me my tacos."
"You know that I can just bite you, right?" Or, rather, he would if he could get the bottom half of his mask up to bite him. He could already feel his fangs sliding out.
[Mm, yes. How long has it been since we last bit someone?]
{Way too long.}
Deadpool was now talking to Stark, obviously. "Take off his mask? I don't know, Stark, he threatened to bite me." Even without his enhanced hearing, Peter probably still would've been able to hear Stark's yelling. "Okay, okay, fine," Deadpool muttered. "When are you going to get here?"
The time didn't matter. Deadpool would be bitten by then.
{This is perfect. Once he takes off the bottom of your mask, bite him.}
[We're not idiots. We know what to do!]
Peter ran his tongue over the sharp tips of his fangs, ready. Deadpool's hands were reaching for him, pulling off the mask—Peter took his opportunity, snapping his neck forward.
Unfortunately—{Depending on how you look at it, it's also fortunate. For Deadpool, at least.}—almost surprised that the wound hadn't healed yet.
"It's my venom, baby," Peter laughed, striding over. "Burns, doesn't it? Worse than anything else you've ever experienced."
Deadpool groaned. "What the hell—"
A delightful giggle escaped Peter's lips. "I'm radioactive. Do you like it? You're one of the only people who experience my venom. It's not a ubiquitous source, you know. But you pissed me off and qualified yourself. So really, you have no one to blame but yourself."
The hero just let out a hiss of pain. Peter felt a pang of guilt.
[Huh, that's a new one. Must be something Peter Parker felt all the time, right?]
{We're the Spider! We feel no guilt, no mercy! Although I do suppose that today can give you sort of an exception.}
[There are no exceptions! You gave up feelings when you killed Harry. Or, rather, you were supposed to.]
"But it hurts a lot," Peter whined. "I feel bad now."
[You know what, just do it. I allow you this one time.]
{It's because we love you, Spidey! And, now, you owe us.}
"I am you," Peter pointed out, but still unbent the katana to the best that he could. "This can't hurt more than the venom," he said to Deadpool, who gritted his teeth and shifted away from him, trying to escape unsuccessfully.
Peter brought the blade up and sliced the hero's arm off. Or, more accurately, his whole shoulder. The boxes chattered happily at the gruesome sight.
"I'm slightly sorry," Peter said and swung away to blow up that elevator.
[Well, would you look at that.]
"What?"
[Our Spidey's not moping.]
{Oh, this is wonderful! Are you finally over Gwen?}
Peter contemplated it. "I think so."
{We're in your head. We know when your lying.}
"I'm making progress," Peter defended. "You don't just get over the death of the love of your life in a day."
[Or in a few years, either, apparently,] White grumbled.
{Come on, let's give him so credit! This is so much better than last year.}
Peter pulled up a new tab on his laptop and searched the name Deadpool.
"Wade Wilson," he murmured. "What are your secrets?"
{Look at that! He's a lot younger than we thought!}
[Your point being?]
{Well, since we turn eighteen soon—}
"Please," Peter cut off Yellow. "Don't finish that sentence." He wasn't built for love. Whether it was romantic or just sex.
There was silence for a moment.
{Did you bring Deadpool's arm?}
Peter pushed away from his desk in disgust. "No, you creep! We're not eating it!"
{How did you know—}
[You're really more predictable than you think.]
"Just please shut up. I'm trying to learn more about Deadpool. Or Wade, whatever you want to call him."
Of course, they didn't listen. The boxes started bickering about how Deadpool had stopped them from getting the number five from Delmar's and whether that should elicit his painful, bloody death.
"He can't die." Peter's voice was more awe than anything. "Remember? He can't die." He'd always admired that. Sure, he could heal fast and everything, but he couldn't come back from death.
That was what made Wade Wilson so dangerous. He couldn't die.
Peter had never seen Deadpool's face. There were no pictures. But his face was supposed to be scarred beyond recognition, hairless and bald.
Hot.
{Aw, White, look! The closeted child is letting his bi show.}
Three people knew that Peter was bisexual. Gwen, obviously, Harry, and Aunt May.
Ned had come later on after Gwen had died. Peter tried rejecting the kid but damn he did not know when to give up. For a period of time, Peter had actually enjoyed Ned's company. Then he went full Spider.
Disappeared. Presumed dead.
White's voice pulled Peter out of his thoughts. [Something really is wrong with your Spider-Sense.]
{Peter tingle! Your Peter tingle is broken!}
The world exploded.