Peter landed haphazardly on top of his apartment building, breathing heavily and still trying to shake off the remnants of the adrenaline rush. He lay on the roof for a few minutes, just letting his breathing even out. He breathed out a sigh and let his eyes slip shut. They snapped open less than a minute later.
"Mr. Stark!" how could he have forgotten about him? The Iron Man suit was non-functioning, and he'd just left him there with a man that made Peter's spider-sense ring like the world was ending!
"Would you like me to call Mr. Stark, Peter?" Karens voice was soothing, and Peter relaxed minutely.
"Yes please, Karen." the ringing of the phone filled his mask, and Peter sat in tense silence as he waited for it to be picked up. Mr. Stark rarely missed his calls anymore, So when the call went to voicemail Peter felt a rush of panic. Then he remembered that the suit was completely offline. Powered down, non-functioning. Whatever the other teen had hit Mr. Stark with had destroyed the suits circuitry to the point that Peter suspected that it couldn't be fixed.
Peter asked Karen to call a second time, and again it rang through and went to voicemail. Should he go back to the warehouse? No, that was a terrible idea, that man, Deadpool, would probably kill him if he came back. Okay. so, not back to the warehouse. Maybe Mr. Stark was on his way home?
"Karen?" he asked.
"Yes, Peter?"
"Can you send a message to my phone when Mr. Stark is safe? Back home, or at the Labs, I mean."
"Of course, Peter." Peter breathed a sigh, then pulled himself to his feet. School was out for the summer, so usually he'd stay out a bit longer to patrol, but right now all he wanted to do was sleep off the adrenaline crash. And maybe talk to Ned about meeting the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Ned would flip.
Peters stomach growled as he pulled himself in through his bedroom window, and he groaned. He didn't get any of the pizza! Okay, so Deadpool hadn't ordered it for him, but there was no way that Deadpool and the teenager could finish that many pizza's on their own, and Peter was hungry. Not that he wanted to eat pizza provided by a man that dangerous, but it would have been convenient.
Peter pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt before heading into the kitchen, leaving his suit in a heap on the floor. He'd pick it up later, preferably before Aunt May got home. He made himself a sandwich and plopped onto the couch, digging out his phone and flipping through Twitter. The sandwich wasn't enough, but dinnertime wasn't that far away, and the sandwich would tide him over until then.
His phone buzzed in his hand, and he nearly dropped it on his face, only catching it because his fingers went sticky. It was a message from Karen, simply stating 'Mr. Stark has entered the building.' he giggled a little bit at the phrasing. No! Now was not the time for jokes.
'thx kare' he texted back. Then he pulled up Mr. Starks contact and hit 'call'. The phone rang. And rang. Just before the final ring, Mr. Stark answered the phone.
"Hey kid, you alright?" Mr. Stark asked, before Peter could even say anything.
"I'm fine, are you fine? I'm so sorry I just left you there like that!"
"It's fine, kid. Deadpool didn't even do anything. Well, he made me eat pizza with him, but that was it." Peter's relief felt tangible, and then he registered Mr. Starks words.
"You got pizza?! Aw man, I didn't get any!" he whined. It was so unfair that Peter was sitting at home worried for him, and he was just off eating pizza!
"Peter, it wasn't a pizza party, I was trying to get the kid medical attention." Peter could vaguely make out the sound of FRIDAY in the background before Mr. Stark spoke again. "Oh my god."
"What?" Peter bolted upright. There was something wrong, what was happening?" "Mr. Stark? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just… hey Peter?"
"Yeah?" his heart was still beating just a bit too fast. "What's up?"
"If you ever see Deadpool again," Mr. Stark paused and took a shaky breath before continuing. "If you ever see Deadpool again, promise me you'll run the other way?"
"Um…"
"Please?"
"Okay, I can do that… but uh, why?"
"I don't think you want to know, but I'll tell you later if you ask. Just… I have to go." The phone clicked off, and Peter lowered it from his face. The front door clicked open moments later, and Peter tilted his head over the back of the couch until he could see Aunt May, upside down, closing the door.
"Peter, don't do that, the blood's going to go to your head." Aunt May said, and Peter giggled, sitting back upright and swiveling instead.
"How was your day?" he asked, grinning.
"Oh, you know. Pretty much the same as always. What about you?"
"It was a day." Aunt May hummed in response, heading into the kitchen and grabbing a cup of water.
"Was it a good day?"
"It wasn't bad. What's for dinner?" Peter redirected. He didn't really want to talk about today yet, still trying to figure out how he felt about everything. He'd talk to Ned about it later, anyway. No use worrying the Aunt.
"Oh, I don't know. We still have some chinese in the fridge. How about we just do leftovers tonight?" Peter hummed.
"Sure, we could do that." he said.
They sat down together a bit later, Aunt May talking about her day, and Peter making sure he laughed in the right places, even if it wasn't always funny. They finished dinner, and before Aunt May could even pick up her own plate Peter grabbed it.
"I'll do the dishes tonight, you look pretty tired." He offered. Aunt May smiled at him.
"Thanks honey. Are you going out patrolling tonight yet?" Peter shook his head.
"Nah. I was thinking I might hang out with Ned tomorrow, and I want to be awake for that."
"Okay. well, I'm going to go to bed then. I have an early morning shift tomorrow. Goodnight"
"Night, Aunt May!" Peter called after her as she headed for the hall. He set the plates on the counter and began filling the sink.
"Peter!" Aunt May called. His head snapped up. Even though she didn't sound panicked, and he didn't sense danger, that didn't mean there wasn't any! "Pick up your suit!"
Deep breath. Line up the shot. Wait for the target. {Do you think the kid likes mexican?} Focus. [I don't think it particularly matters what the kid likes, because we'll never be seeing him again. Not if we can help it.] An arm swung into view as the target gestured, but he was still out of sight of the window. {Waaade! He's being mean again!}
"Do you two ever shut the fuck up?" Wade shifted, adjusting his grip on the gun. There was a rock digging into his hip. He ignored it. [you know we don't. Now tell this lunatic that we're staying far, far away from the kid.] {nooooo! I want to cuddle him!} "We are staying away from the kid."
His target finally stepped into view of the window, and Wade pulled the trigger. Blood splattered the wall and the woman that the target had been talking to jerked back and screamed. Not that Wade could hear it, with how far away he was. {she's kinda cute with the red freckles.} [Blood splatter, you mean.] Wade quickly packed up his gun and stood, stretching out the cramps that had disappeared the moment he moved.
"We've already traumatized her, no need to make it worse."
Wade shot a quick text to Weasel, which read 'Trgt dwn, got n e more job?' [your spelling is atrocious, it's a wonder that man can even understand you.] "If he can understand me than it isn't that bad." Wade skipped down the hill to the parking lot, where a cab was waiting for him. His phone buzzed, and he checked it.
'You've p much cleared the list at this point. U coming by soon?' Wade threw open the cab door, and then collapsed on the seat, throwing his gun case in before him. The cab driver flinched.
'may as well. miss me?'
"How did the job go, sir?" The cabbie asked, voice shaking.
"Like shootin' fish in a barrel, my good man. Now, to the City!" [which city, dumbfuck?] {if we're picking cities, I vote NYC. We can go visit the kid!} "Not New York." The cabbie laughed awkwardly, and then they were on the road.
