There were a few things Peter wasn't expecting to see when he got home from school. Not that he was actively thinking about it or anything, it was just a something in the back of his mind. One of those things he wasn't expecting was a celebrity to be there. Because, y'know, why would that happen? And yet, when he walked through the door, lo and behold there was one Anthony Stark, sitting at his kitchen table.
Peter was, understandably, shocked. This was an uncommon occurrence, though it had happened before. Just not enough for him to get used to the idea of a billionaire breaking into his apartment.
"Hey, Pete, you're home," Tony says, getting up and walking over to him. "We need to talk."
This was decidedly one of the worst things anyone could hear from another person, especially if that other person happened to be Tony Stark.
"About what?" Peter asks, trying to stay calm. What if he'd found out about Venom and Deadpool? What if he thought Peter was being too irresponsible again and took his suit?
"Uh, about what happened last night. Or do you not remember?" Tony asks, lightly pressing against his gunshot wound.
Peter winces. "Oh, that," he says, relaxing his shoulders.
"Well don't sound so relieved. What, you doing something illegal behind my back?"
"No." He just hung out with people who probably did.
"I'm joking. So, you doing okay after, y'know, getting shot and everything?"
"As well as you'd expect."
"Can't argue with that. Did you at least have someone check it out? You don't want that kinda thing getting infected."
"Uh, well . . ." Peter trails off, not exactly sure how to explain without telling Tony everything.
"You did, right? C'mon, Pete, I know you're smarter than that."
"I did, I just didn't go to a hospital or anything."
"Ah, yes. Because why would you do something sane like that?"
"I was in my suit! And I couldn't exactly go in as Peter Parker 'cause the cops would've gotten involved."
"Uh, you do have a phone, right? And Karen? You could've called me or Happy."
"I . . . didn't think about that," Peter says, and he really hadn't. Mostly because he was too busy trying to deal with Eddie and Wade, who ended up helping him anyway. "How'd you even find out about this?"
"You say that like you don't think I've got sensors in that suit that tell me if you get injured. And I would've been down sooner if someone hadn't decided it wasn't important to tell me you'd gotten shot."
Peter's pretty sure he was talking about F.R.I.D.A.Y. when he said 'someone', but it could also be Karen he meant, so it was probably be best not to linger on it.
"Well, I am fine, really. It still hurts, but I'll probably be okay in about a week."
"You sure? Gunshot wounds take a while to heal."
"For normal people, but I've got that nifty healing factor, remember?"
"True, but you should still get that checked out. I can set up a confidential doctor's appointment for you."
"Is that really necessary?"
"Do you wanna lose your arm?"
"What?! No, why would I?"
"Infection. So, I'll get that set up to keep both mine and your aunt's peace of mind." Tony pauses. "She . . . does know about this, right?"
Peter looks away sheepishly. "No . . ."
Tony sighs. "Y'know what, it's probably for the best anyways. If she asks why it hurts, just say you sprained your shoulder web slinging or something, okay?"
"Okay."
"Good." Tony says, nodding his head. "You sure you're doing okay?"
"Yep, right as rain."
"Great! If that's all, I'll be going," Tony says, walking over and opening the door. "Someone'll call and let you know when the appointment is, so don't miss it, 'kay? Bye."
With that, the door closes, leaving Peter alone once again. And as per usual after spending any amount of time with Tony Stark, he was left with the distinct feeling that a small hurricane had just barreled right through his life without actually damaging anything. It was odd, and not something he particularly liked, but it was certainly unique.
Shaking his head, Peter sets his backpack down carefully and sits on the couch, also carefully, because jarring his wound by carelessly flopping down was not a mistake he'd make twice. He was at least happy that Tony didn't know about Venom and Deadpool, so he probably didn't have to worry about that. Bless Ned for hacking his Spider-suit and disabling the Baby Monitor Protocol so many times that Tony eventually just took it out entirely.
That was one less thing to worry about, for the most part, although there was still the issue of Eddie and Wade themselves. It was difficult to determine the success of rehabilitating two villains, though they both seemed willing. Except Venom, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it. Maybe Deadpool could help reign him in, although pitting them against each other would probably just make everything worse.
Sighing, Peter gets up and decides he could think that all over later. Right now, he just wanted something to eat.
. . .
Eddie. Eddie, wake up. Eddie!
"Hm? Wha's goin' on?"
Someone's calling you.
"Who?"
Not sure. You should answer it.
"Yeah, yeah," Eddie mutters, reaching blindly out for his phone. "It's Peter. Why's he callin' so early?"
It's nine.
"It's the weekend," Eddie says, answering the call and sitting up. "Wha'd'ya want, kid?"
"Eddie! You answered, great. Uh, would you mind—Ah!—maybe coming and helping me with something?"
"Depends. What do you need help with?"
"Oh, just a supervillain. Nothing too big."
"Then why do you need our help? Did the little Spiderling bite off more than he could chew?"
"That's not . . . well . . . maybe a little. Just—get down here, please?"
"Fine. Where are you?"
"Not sure, just follow the screams. Ooh, call Deadpool too."
"I don't have his number."
"I'll have Karen text you. Okay? Bye."
"Bye," Eddie says, just as the call ends. A few seconds later he gets a text "Here goes nothing," he mutters, clicking the number.
"You've reached Deadpool, mercenary extraordinaire, who's this and what do you need me to do?"
"Hey Deadpool, it's Eddie."
"Eddie? Why're you calling? You don't need me to do a job for you, do ya?"
"No, Peter called and said he needed our help."
"Oh, is this about what's goin' on downtown?"
"Uh, I guess. He said to get there immediately."
"Doesn't he know what time it is?"
"Maybe. We should probably go humour him, though."
"Eh, sure, why not. Wasn't plannin' on doing anything else anyways."
"Okay then. See ya there."
"Yep."
The call ends and Eddie sighs, running a hand over his face.
Are we going to go?
" 'Course we are. Is Mary up yet?"
Not that I am aware of.
"Good, that means no questions."
She does not always ask them.
"It's often enough," Eddie says, standing and stretching.
I suppose. Why do you think the Spiderling went to us and not his Avenger friends?
"Dunno. Maybe they're busy saving the world. Again."
Perhaps. Maybe we are more fun than they are?
"Ah, yes. A mercenary and a journalist with an alien living in them. Such great company."
We can sense your sarcasm.
"Wasn't trying to hide it."
Well, we are certainly more colorful than them.
"You say this like you know them personally."
Do not have to. It's rather obvious.
"Whatever you say. Ready to go?"
"Yes," Venom says, creeping over his skin.
. . .
"I hate technology," Deadpool says emphatically, lying down on the rooftop.
"Complaining about it won't stop bad guys from using it," Peter replies, also lying down.
"Then I'll just get a giant EMP and take it all out."
"You do that and you'll take the world down with it," Eddie points out, sitting down.
"Pff, who cares about that."
"Everyone."
"Yeah, yeah, I know,"
"Besides, technology is fun. We enjoy it."
"I'm with them on this," Peter says. "Technology is pretty nice."
"Sometimes."
"Most of the time."
"Agree to disagree. So, Spidey, did you just need us to help you, or do you got somethin' else planned."
"I'm pretty beat. Maybe we should just get some food."
"Sure, as long as one of you two has some money, 'cause I'm all out."
Peter and Wade both look to Eddie.
"Yeah, no," he says, shaking his head. "V already eats through most of my budget, I'm not using the measly remainder on two superpowered people who likely need more food than the average human. I'd be willing to pool our money, but that's it."
Peter sighs. "I've got some at home, but it's not much. Wade, I know you're lying. You've got some emergency stash somewhere."
"Well, yeah, of course, but it's for emergencies only. We can just go somewhere cheap."
"I wasn't plannin' on shilling out more than $20, $30 if I have to. So, what kinda food do ya feel like?"
"People," Venom says, almost wistfully.
"Oh, that reminds me, I need to talk to you two later. I think I found a solution to your problem."
"Really? That's great."
"What problem?" Deadpool asks, feeling out of the loop.
"Oh, y'know. Their whole . . ." Peter trails off, gesturing vaguely.
"Cannibalism thing?" Wade guesses.
"Yeah. That."
"No need to be so derisive about it. It's not like we had a choice."
"Anyway," Peter says loudly. "We were deciding where to eat."
"Ooh, right. I'm thinkin' Mexican." Deadpool pauses. "Really, Mexican?" he mutters. "Oh, yeah, of course. Chimichangas, yay."
"What was that?" Peter asks, confused.
"Nothing. Just another uncreative writer here. I like other foods, y'know."
(Hush, it's for the narrative)
"Ugh, fine."
"O-kay," Peter says slowly. "Well, I kinda wanted Asian food. Like, Chinese, or Indian, or something. What about you, Eddie?"
"I'm fine with either."
"C'mon, dude. You're the deciding vote, just pick one."
Eddie pauses and considers this for a moment. "Well, actually I kinda want Greek food."
Peter and Wade groan.
"You were the chosen one," Deadpool says weakly.
"It was said you would destroy the Sith, not join them," Peter continues, half-heartedly.
"Stop being so dramatic."
"The day that happens is the day I die," Wade says defiantly. "And, well, that ain't happening any time soon. Unless you got another planet hangin' around somewhere, but I doubt it."
"Couldn't we all just get the food we want?" Peter asks.
"Not unless you feel like runnin' all around town, and then two of us will have cold food," Eddie points out.
"Then we need to come to an agreement. I say we have Asian food because I'm the unofficial official leader here."
"You're twelve," Eddie and Wade say simultaneously.
"Sixteen. You have a better idea?"
"Well, I'm the oldest," Eddie says.
"You sure about that?" Deadpool asks.
"How old are you."
"A lady never tells."
"You guys sound like you're in second grade. 'I'm the oldest so you should do what I want'."
"Says the minor," Eddie scoffs. "You just don't wanna have to go along with one of us."
"I'm the one who sets all this up, I should get to pick."
"We could always just—"
"You're not the one paying."
"I said I'd help with some of it, it's Wade who's not pitching in."
"Whoa, don't bring that up. It's not my fault business has been slow."
"How about we—"
"That's no excuse."
"What, do you want me to get a real job?"
"Would be nice, mercenary work isn't all that good if you wanna be a better person."
"You know—"
"What if I don't want to be a better person."
"Then you wouldn't be here."
"You didn't give us much of a choice," Eddie mutters.
"Everyone shut up!" Venom exclaims.
Startled, Peter and Wade stop talking and look at Eddie.
"Thank you. How about, instead of needless fighting, we go to one of those mall places that has the food courts."
"New York doesn't have malls," Peter points out.
"Then what are those things called, the open-air-ish places with the different stores. There was this one Eddie looked at a few weeks ago, Smorgasburg, or something like that."
"That's . . . not a bad idea," Wade admits.
"There we go, compromise. I suppose those tourist websites were not a total loss."
"No perhaps not," Eddie says. "And I'd say we definitely deserve a break."
"Then let's get going," Peter says, standing up. "And I can talk with you two about how to fix your, uh, issue."
"Thanks, I hadn't realized we'd suddenly become chronically ill."
"You know what I mean."
. . .
"So, the magical secret is this phena-something or other chemical?" Eddie says, taking a bite of his gyro.
"Yep, far as I can tell. It's something we produce naturally, and it's also found in chocolate. I've already looked into getting you guys some pills or supplements or something, I just need to talk with . . . someone who can help me make it."
"I take it this 'someone' is a part of the Avengers?"
"Er, yeah. I won't tell them any of the details, but I do need their help."
"Can you really convince them?"
"I'll cook something up, they probably won't question me too much."
"As long as you can get it without too much trouble."
"Yep. I'll probably have something in a few days, and we'll have to figure out a proper dosage. Shouldn't take more than a week-ish."
"Well, that's all well and good, but what are those two supposed to do in the meantime?" Deadpool asks.
Peter glances at Eddie.
"We'll be fine," he says quickly.
You know that's a lie.
"I promise," Eddie continues, ignoring Venom.
"Good. I'll let you know when we can start figuring out dosage. I'm gonna have to do some tests, though. Or at least some kind of experiment, so I might need you to sneak into a lab with me."
"I thought you were Mr. Morality? That sounds just a little illegal."
"Eh, more like I neglect to tell someone the exact details of why I need to use their lab, or, more likely, we sneak into the one at my school after hours."
"Sounds pretty sketchy, but I've never been one to back down from stuff like that. As long as V doesn't mind going through all that, you got yourself a deal."
We will be fine. The Spiderling has proven himself mostly trustworthy.
"And they've given their okay, so we're good. Just shoot a text when you need us."
"Will do," Peter says, finishing off his food. "Y'know, we should totally do this again. Not all the time, of course, but sometimes. Rule number three, post-patrol food is a must."
"We're gonna have to start writing all these rules down," Wade says.
"Nah, I've got it all up here," Peter says, pointing to his head. "Now, if you're gonna be paying, then I'm gonna hit the road. I've still got things I gotta do, this Saturday ain't gonna waste itself."
"Yeah, go on and play video games or whatever it is you kids do these days."
"You got it, see ya later," Peter says, walking away.
A few minutes of amicable silence pass between the remaining beings, before Wade says, "So, are you two really gonna be okay for the next week?"
"Of course. Why would you ask?"
"Because I've been in this business for a long time, and I can tell you're lying. I'm guessing you've been skimming a bit off the top, so to speak, and not telling Spidey."
"You could say that. You gonna do anything about it?"
"No. But I know someone who wouldn't be too happy if he found out about it."
"He can't know, and we're gonna stop after we figure out this whole thing. It's just . . . we had to."
"Yeah, and I get that. But a web of lies is an awful thing to get caught in."
"You speaking from experience?"
"You could say that. All I'm gonna tell you is be careful."
"We have been."
"That's good. And with that outta the way, I shall bid the both of you adieu," Wade says, getting up.
"Okay then, see ya later. And, please, don't say anything to the kid."
"I won't. It's your lie to get tripped up on."
"Thanks for the support."
"Anytime."
