It was one of those times that calls for a corny opening line. Peter was just walking along, minding his own business while playing "The Room" app on his Starkphone, when suddenly he heard something that made him stop.
He actually flinched, ducked his head in his blue hoodie, and did his best to turn for the noise. His spidey-sense was dead, but his own panic raised enough alarm to get the sense to start sending light signals to his brain.
"What- what," Peter said, turning around and cursing the fact he was not wearing his costume. After spending so long in spandex, his dark jeans chaffed at his knees and… other places, and tennis shoes felt like the most awkward things in the world. How could they tell? His shirt said "Freud" and had a picture of a stick man slipping on a banana peel… It was hard to find where the noise had come from, considering he was about two blocks from Times Square right now.
He was just going to pick up pie, but the loud cry of "SPIDER-MAN HELP!" Had his entire body twitching.
Peter threw his phone in his pocket, zipped up his hoodie and tossed the hood over his face while he ran. He would do this old school, it'd be fine. Sure, he didn't have webshooters but there was far more to being Spiderman then… the most spidery thing in his arsenal.
He could see fire coming up a block away. He ran, so fast the people in front of him didn't have time to move. If it wasn't for his spidey-sense he'd be plowing into them all, but as it was he could swerve, slide, and cross around everyone in his way without touching them. Acrobatics. Peter had crazy acrobatics. And strength.
So who the hell had yelled for Spiderman, the thought, turning the corner and feeling the rubber on his tennis shoes stretch. GOD HE HATED SHOES.
"Get back!" Police men were screaming, people were standing on the side of the commotion taping on their phones… remember when superhero fights used to be unusual?... and there was a giant black truck, the back seemingly torn open.
"LEROY JEN-" A voice hollered before it was abruptly cut off. A red figure slammed onto the ground and slid backwards.
Peter winced. "Wait," he realized… they thought Deadpool was Spiderman the… the outfits… his had webs!
Deadpool threw his body forward, the samurai swords in his hands spinning. "OH boy," the growled, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You ruined my joke!"
"Deadpool, get out of here!" A woman in a uniform… SHIELD uniform, Peter didn't recognize her, shouted at him. She was holding a pistol in her head, obviously she had called the police. "Ugh, just cover the driver! I'm not paying you shit!"
"YOU WILL!" Deadpool shouted. He took off in a run, brandishing his sword. He turned sharply at the door of the vehicle, grabbing the handle and throwing it open. "Pocahontas," he exclaimed, "oh, wait, I meant Jaws of Life… dun. Dun. Dun. Dundun." Deadpool held out his hand for whoever was in the front of the van.
There was a sudden dark shadow over the edge of the van.
Peter grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, tearing it off. Ducking his head, he pulled his hoodie down to tie the part of the shirt over his mouth and nose.
He looked up, just in time to see a humanoid shadow cross over in front of Deadpool. Large, seeming tentacles of darkness hovered around this black, blurry form, not quite touching it.
"SHIELD-Y," Deadpool said, "I'm getting the driver his nametag says Shawn- OOF!" One of the tentacles slammed into Deadpool's shoulder, CRACKING the mercenary down on the ground.
"Oi!" Peter shouted. He jumped over the police line in front of him, curling his body to spin on the ground and land softly. "Go back to Japanese Neverland!"
The humanoid shadow turned, it had what seemed to pass for eyes, grey pits where eyes should be, at least.
"GET BACK!" The SHIELD officer snapped. She raised her firearm toward the human shadow and shot. The sound burst through the air. It ripped past Peter, enough that he could feel a ripple in the air, and slammed directly into the human shadow's side.
The human shadow staggered. It had to have felt that.
"Not so shadowy now, huh?" Peter asked. "Come on!"
The human shadow sent one of his tentacles instead.
"Crap," Peter whispered. The thing shot out like a water snake, hissing through the air like it was burning oxygen. Peter back flipped, quickly, moving his body as much as possible. The tentacle went straight out and sizzled. "Huh," he muttered.
"JENKINS!" Deadpool screamed, lifting his should-be-splintered-in-half body from the ground and slamming his fist into the human shadow's leg. "HA!" He jumped to his feet, reaching for swords on his back that weren't there.
The human shadow cringed and lashed out, throwing three tentacles toward Deadpool. "Careful!" Peter warned, running forward, but the SHIELD agent was faster. A gunshot rattled through the air and slid through two of the tentacles and they, like the other, sizzled in the air.
Deadpool was able to turn, fast and strong, kicking the tentacle hard with his combat boot. The tentacle sizzled. "Ouch!" Deadpool exclaimed, grabbing his leg, "Ooo, ooo!" He reached into his bag and pulled out a glock. "Ow, ow, ow," he said, aiming toward the human shadow.
"Hit the tentacles!" Peter yelled, clenching his fists. The human shadow cringed when Peter grew close, but Peter sidestepped around him. He threw his hand into the only tentacle within reach, his hand burning, and lifted up his leg, throwing his weight up and down straight on top of the tentacle. His spidey-sense was going haywire.
The tentacle sizzled and died. His fist burned, his feet started to ache and hurt.
But the tentacles weren't coming back, and whatever this was, the human shadow the tentacles were it's only offense.
"YEAH, Blue Hoodie is right!" Deadpool exclaimed happily. He aimed the glock, fired, and shot so close to Peter's head that his ears rang.
"HEY!" Peter yelled, and as he did he could hear sizzling just past his ear.
Two more shots rang out from the SHIELD agent, and Peter saw blackness in front of him. He jumped, throwing his body out of the way. He landed next to Deadpool, and he turned to face the human shadow. Just in time, another tentacle came at his face.
Metal sliced through the air. The tentacle dissolved.
"You're welcome!" Deadpool shouted. The red mercenary's body thrummed with berserker energy, Peter could practically feel it.
"Ten left!" Peter yelled.
"But they're so sexah," Deadpool yelled, his voice dark and dangerous despite the words, and he stepped forward. "LAY IT ON ME!"
"Us," Peter corrected. The SHIELD agent shot another down.
A tentacle tried to come near; Peter shouted a word of warning and grabbed Deadpool's shoulder. Propelling himself off of the mercenary, he threw himself forward, throwing his legs down through the tentacle. Painful fuzziness rushed through his legs and he came down hard enough to scream.
"Careful, Hoodie!" Deadpool warned. He shot something to his right, and the SHIELD agent got a tentacle that was clinging to the human shadow's side.
"I t-" Peter began to say, but his eyes focused on a dark shadow across the floor. "Move!" He ran forward, throwing his arms forward. The shadow reached Deadpool's shirt, and the mercenary howled. It only lasted an instant; Peter threw himself into Deadpool, throwing both of them on the pavement.
"Ouch," Deadpool said, sitting up. Peter was splayed across his front- He jumped up quickly, trying not to… something, he wasn't sure. "STEP OVER!" Deadpool warned.
Peter twisted quickly.
Deadpool shot twice, once into the pavement and then into the inch high tentacle over the hooded figure's head.
"I…" Peter said, but stopped. The hooded figure had collapsed into the ground.
Deadpool sighed.
There was this… moment, of complete and utter pause. It was that excessively relaxing moment where Peter's body could finally catch up with its aches and pains, where his head cleared and his mind exited survival mode, the moment where the whole world took a breath of relief because the danger was gone.
"Thank you," the SHIELD agent said quickly. Then, swift and business-like, turned to the police officers and began directing them on how to maneuver traffic and keep people out of the area "properly, this time" she said with a glance to Peter.
"Dude," Deadpool said, standing up. "You're like… a superhero!" He put his gun and swords away and managed to seem impressed.
"Yeah," Peter told him, "I'm Spiderman.
Peter could just about feel the aches from the tentacles in his body, a dull ache that was growing into that misdirected pit in his stomach… like the time he was shot.
"No, you're not even wearing the right costume!" Deadpool laughed wholeheartedly and physically slapped his knee.
"I am," Peter said. He shuffled in his pockets and pulled out his phone. "You've been texting me." The SHIELD agent was yelling something about incompetency in the background.
Deadpool scooted forward. "What…" he whispered, his voice soft and fragile, "you can't be Spiderman… that phone…" He stared into Peter's eyes… presumably, he had a mask on, "expensive…"
"Yeah," Peter said. "It's mine."
Deadpool looked up into the void of the sky, past the realm of all understanding for the sane. "WHAT KIND OF AUTHOR MAKES SPIDERMAN RICH? WHAT PLOT POINT IS THAT? YOU'RE RUINING HIM FOR THE POOR CLASS! IT'S HIS DEMOGRAPHIC!"
Suddenly, Deadpool shut up and remembered he had no control in life and the author has a point, she promises, and he'll also get laid during this so called point, so he should be happy about this turn of events and not complain so much.
Deadpool audibly growled, but conceded. He jumped back fairly quickly. "Wanna do something fun? Wanna go to Taco Bell?"
"Okay," Peter said.
…
Taco's were nice, Peter thought as they walked along the New York street. People were giving them a wide berth, probably because Peter still had his shirt over half his face and Deadpool was… in full costume complete with weapons.
"Where's your webs?" Deadpool had a mouth full of burrito.
"I'm grounded," Peter replied. He had to stick the taco under his mouth-shirt to eat it, it wasn't easy. "Not supposed to crime fight."
"Oh, so you're like… Miles Morales- No wait! You're white!" Deadpool puzzled. "Miles Morales was poor too…" A woman on their side of the street made a point to cross over away from them.
"Okay," Peter said.
They stopped at a crosswalk. Peter checked his phone. He shook his feet while they paused at the cross walk, his feet aching still.
"I'm Wade." Deadpool turned to face him.
Peter hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged. It wasn't going to be a 'secret identity' for much longer after all. And who was he protecting anymore? Almost everyone he knew was a superhero or had connections with one. "Peter," he held out his hand.
Deadpool shook it and then swooned. "Ohmygoshnowayit'slikeoriginalSpiderman," he gushed, "andyou'reateenager. LikeIdon'tknowwhattherichthingisbutI'mcoolwithit." He paused, taking a moment to look at his hands. "Does this mean I'm…" he whispered dramatically, "…attractive Wade?" He shoved his hand under his mask, feeling experimentally. His other hand dropped the burrito. "Nope," Deadpool answered dejectedly.
He glared up at the void of the sky, past the realm of all knowledge. "Fuck you, lady."
Then he looked down. "OH NO!" Wade cried, "MY BURRITO!"
"You can have the rest of my taco." Peter handed it to him. The light changed and they walked forward. "So…" Peter asked, "What's it like being a mercenary?"
Deadpool ate the taco, thinking. It seemed to take him a long time, and he turned his head three times and whispered inaudibly to himself.
Peter figured he needed time. After all… Peter had gone through some shit and done really… really… really weird shit too. There was an amount of strangeness that every superhero was allowed.
"I could show you," Deadpool said, his voice gravely and quiet. "I could give you a costume and you could come with me, and we could fight stuff like we fought anime tentacle guy."
"Oh." Peter thought for a moment. He… he missed crime fighting. And Tony wasn't likely to let him go out again until he finished high school and, well, already he'd started having this strange recurring dream of himself as a giant spider swinging through New York and eating a dude in a Subway sandwich… it had to mean something. Spider-Peter was restless. Today, despite the pain in his legs he felt… good. All of the sudden, this relaxed feeling had come over him, and the longer he walked and the longer he thought about getting back out and fighting again, the easier his mind felt.
Peter swallowed. "Yeah," he said. "I'd like to just like… you can't tell… anybody."
"We can call you Hoodie!" Deadpool said, jumping up with his excitement. Some of his taco meat fell on the ground. "Crap," he shoved the last taco in his mouth and then jumped up again. "The Amazing Hoodie! Spectucular Hoodie! The Amazing-Spectacular Hoodie!"
Peter laughed. "The Spectacle," he continued, "Deadpool and the Amazing-Spectacular-Hot-Topic-Wearing-Hoodie-Man!"
"Ba ba ba ba ba baba," Deadpool sang, "ba ba ba ba ba baba, ba Ba BA!"
"That sounds like a Tim Burton movie."
"Life…" Deadpool whispered, "is a Tim Burton movie."
"Would we fight Helena Bonham Carter and Johnny Depp?" Peter wondered.
"We'd kill Helena Bonham Carter but Johnny Depp would kill us. It's tragic," Deadpool said, "you'll die in my arms. I'll kill myself out of tragedy. But not before I kiss you, and then get run over by a living skeleton in a truck."
"Yeah… that's Tim Burton," Peter agreed. "And then we'll wake up in the afterlife-"
"But don't be jealous, Death and I had a thing," Deadpool said.
"Is it a seven evil ex's thing?"
"No…" Deadpool thought for a moment. "Just… two… three? Two… two, no… one? Three… two? Huh."
"Evil?"
"They're all evil."
"That's cool; I have about 20 evil supervillains. You'll probably have to compete with it, since you're obviously sending me down to the dark side." Peter shrugged.
"What?" Deadpool paused, "Oh… okay, yeah kind of."
Peter's phone dinged. He pulled it out. It was Harry.
Pete, what's up?
Peter stuck his phone back in his pocket, he could reply later.
"Hey!" Deadpool turned around, grinning obviously under his mask. "Do you like comic books?"
"I'm a superhero," Peter replied.
"Video games?"
"Do you have GTA 5?" Peter asked.
Deadpool paused. "Huh. No. TV?"
"I love TV," Peter said, at the same time remembered how long it'd been since he'd even watched television.
"Do you…" Deadpool asked slowly… "wanna watch something?"
Peter, in that instant, kind of realized what was going on.
There was this whole, awkward vibe that he didn't notice at the beginning because Deadpool was crazy and Peter still wasn't used to the idea of thinking about guys. But then… the whole talking, and after seeing…
Jesus. Deadpool could fight. It was insane. It was impressive. There was something primal in Peter that was just… ecstatic about how strange Deadpool fought.
Besides, he had muscles and abs, obviously, and Peter could see this kind of v on his stomach that cut off because of the belt that held his weapons and like… he had samurai swords. But then… Deadpool was sort of blushing at him, and he had this way of, despite his craziness, there was this total and complete focus. It made Peter feel good. He'd never felt… cool before. Deadpool was just as much a dork as him… but they were superheroes, and Peter felt cool.
"Okay," Peter said. "You should text me. Maybe Saturday." Today was Friday. "We should… hang out, Saturday. Do a job and like… eat pizza. You know. Whatever." Peter could feel blood rising to his head. "Like stuff. You know."
Forget what he said about feeling cool.
"Okay," Deadpool repeated. "I'll make sure to corrupt you! Like a supervillain wait… no, just…"
"Yeah. Like, text me." Peter said. He pulled out his phone, but then remembered he already gave Deadpool his number. His phone dinged again, another text from Harry.
"Sure," Deadpool said, "do you like-"
Are you on your way over? Did you forget? – Harry
"Motherhugger," Peter said. Oh god, he hated saying that. Why the fuck was he so lame? "I forgot somewhere. I mean I forgot a thing, that like, I have to do."
"Okay!" Deadpool said. He stepped backward. He waved. "Bye! Pider-man!"
"Yeah… like, I'll see you. Around." Peter saluted. It seemed like the thing to do.
"'Till next time!"
"Well tomorrow."
"Till then!"
"Okay." Peter stepped back. "Right."
It was awkward, but he turned around and walked the other direction. It wasn't even the way to Harry's house.
…
"Penthouse?" The elevator butler guy asked, looking at Peter's blue hoodie and ripped shirt with distain.
Peter thought he looked like a normal hipster… okay the bloodstains on his jacket and the cut across his forehead looked suspicious. "Yeah," he said, and then felt obligated to explain, "I'm friends with Harry."
The elevator butler looked at him angrily.
How fucking pretentious and rich were people to have an elevator butler? Tony didn't need an elevator butler. Any normal person could press their own button, what was the point of an elevator butler?
Peter tried to concentrate on how his feet hurt instead of how awkward he felt, but when he got to the floor he gladly stepped out into the penthouse lobby. "Here," Peter said as he typed here to Harry.
The lobby, a year ago, would have made Peter feel so awkward he would have to leave. Now, after living in Stark Tower, Peter felt enough sense of self to be able to sit on the couch in the lobby and frown up at whatever painting dominated the entirety of the opposite wall.
On my way Harry texted, just as the door to the penthouse opened.
"Peter," Norman Osborn said, his shark-like grin spreading across his face. He opened the door wide for Peter to walk through. "I'd wondered who was on the monitors, Harry said he had a friend coming over. Working on homework?" Norman Osborn, cackling, laughed. "Come on in."
"Thank you sir," Peter, every muscle tense, spider-sense ringing a low alarm, stood up.
…