Chapter Ten
Three days after the disintegration
Peter had lost track of time, so he decided only to count the days. He was awake, as usual, before Deadpool, but this time he decided to wake them.
"Wade," he whispered, touching their shoulder gently. "Wake up."
The merc groaned and rolled over into their back. "I'm up, mom, I'm up!" They shoved their face into the sand, falling back asleep.
"Wade!" Peter said urgently.
"Peter?" The merc sat up quickly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just wanna do stuff today." Peter blushed at their concern.
Deadpool visibly relaxed. "Like what?" They asked flirtatiously. "More make-out sessions with yours truly, the sexiest-"
"No," Peter responded. "Well, maybe. But that's not what I had in mind."
'Pool raised an eyebrow.
"I want you to show me how to fight."
"Really?" Wade's eyes widened in delight. "Why? Oh wait, you were never trained! I forgot. Yeah, Baby Boy, I'd love to show you some moves."
Peter grinned. "Could we also get T'challa to help? I'd die to be trained by Deadpool and the Black Panther."
"Whatever you want, Angel."
Peter helped Wade to their feet, and they raced each other to the figures ahead of them, with Deadpool winning, just barely.
"I almost beat you, 'Pool," Spider-Man coughed, out of breath from the sprint. "Next time you won't be so lucky."
"T'challa!" The merc wheezed. "Spidey wants us to teach 'im how to fight!"
"Spider-Man, is this true?" T'challa strode up to Peter elegantly.
"Yeah," Peter said. "Um, I mean, yes, sir."
The Black Panther laughed. "Please, do not be formal with me. I am no king here." He continued. "I would be honored to assist in your training, Peter, but I must ask: why do you need training?"
"Um..." Peter was unreasonably embarrassed. "I was never formally trained?" The statement came out like a question.
"You are surprisingly skilled for your lack of training," T'challa commented. "You would make a good student."
T'challa: smash or pass, Wade signed.
Peter giggled. You first, he signed back.
Totally smash. Please answer. Wade was grinning and signing fast.
Smash, Peter signed quickly.
Maybe we could have a threesome? Wade laughed out loud at their own joke.
In your dreams, Peter responded.
"Ahem," T'challa drew the attention of the giggling heroes. "I'm assuming you didn't know I knew ASL?" He was trying hard not to laugh.
Fuck, Wade signed. He knows.
"Stop it, Wade!" Peter's face was bright red, but he was still laughing. He turned to the king. "I am so sorry."
"I am flattered, but I do have a woman at home." T'challa couldn't help the laugh that escaped his mouth.
"Damnit, does that mean you're straight, then?" Wade grinned.
"Not necessarily. M'baku is very handsome." T'challa smiled.
"Fuck yeah! Let's form a pride club or something! I'm Deadpool; I'm pansexual and agender-"
"Wade, can I learn how to fight, now?" Peter was smiling.
"Of course! I got off track again."
T'challa dragged the toe of his boot in the sand to make a lopsided circle.
"First rule of fight club," Wade started jokingly. "Is to never talk about fight club, baby."
Peter groaned at the bad joke. He was so excited to learn and spar with Deadpool and Black Panther.
"Deadpool," T'challa said. "I would love to see your skill level, too. Shall we spar first, no weapons?"
"Fuck yeah! I'mma best your ass, Cat-Boy!" They unsheathed their katanas and pulled out more guns than Peter thought was possible to fit in the tight leather suit. Deadpool handed him their katanas and what Peter assumed was their favorite gun. "Guard these with your life, angel. Can't risk losing my babies," they winked, and Peter thought it was a little disturbing that Wade equated weapons with children.
They cracked their knuckles, grinning widely at the Black Panther, whose smile was reserved. After all the weapons were removed, the two fighters stood on different sides of the circle.
Deadpool rushed first, executing a beautiful spinning kick to the Panther's side. T'challa got a grazing mark on his side before he dodged it. Deadpool landed, off-balance, and T'challa threw a perfect uppercut to the mercenary's chin.
"Oof, is that all ya got, Pussy Cat?" They lifted their mask monetarily to spit out a tooth and a wad of blood and saliva, then quickly punched Panther in the gut, making him lurch backward. Peter gasped as 'Pool flew through the air to kick him, but T'challa was too fast and grabbed their leg, throwing their body to the ground. He rushed to pin the merc, successfully doing so. Wade punched him once more on his arm, hard, but the Black Panther held his makeshift headlock fast, choking Deadpool, who was now weak from lack of air.
"You're- s-s-trong," Wade wheezed out, still being choked. "That's kind of-f a turn on- fuck!" Panther punched them hard in the gut.
"Are you finished, Deadpool?" T'challa asked calmly. Wade couldn't speak anymore, so they held up a weak thumbs up, and the Panther released them immediately.
'Pool gagged and coughed, but they were grinning happily. Peter couldn't help but run to them.
"Wade, are you okay?"
The merc laughed into a fit of coughing, and then said, "Baby, I can't die! I'm always okay." They laughed some more, and Peter relaxed. "T'challa, you're good at that, fuck."
"You were too aggressive, Deadpool," the king responded. "Learn your defense."
"Says the guy who got punched in the face in, like, the first minute," the merc retorted, smiling.
"Peter, would you like to be next?" T'challa asked. Peter nodded, though he was a little nervous.
"Fuck, wait," Deadpool protested. "You can't hurt him."
"I would never seriously injure anyone in ritual combat, Deadpool. Peter has the ability to stop the fighting at any moment." T'challa had on a lopsided smile.
"I just... fuck. Give him a safe word, or something." Wade was clearly distressed, but Peter didn't understand why.
"Wade," Spider-Man said quietly. "What's wrong? I can handle getting hurt."
The merc was agitated. "Please, Baby, just a safe word, please? What about 'red'?"
"Okay," Peter relented, watching 'Pool's nervous body language.
" 'Red' it will be, then. Let's spar, Peter," said the king.
"Go get 'em, tiger." Wade looked much calmer now.
Spider-Man turned his focus towards the fight and observed Black Panther's body language as he walked to the other side of the circle.
"Remember, no weapons," said T'challa calmly. Peter nodded, his hands shaking in anticipation.
And then the Panther was lunging at him, and Peter flipped and turned, and barely dodged the hit. He could feel his heart racing, and a surge of adrenaline went through him as he tried to kick T'challa, but the king threw him aside as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Spider-Man lost his balance, and just as he was regaining it, the king landed a wicked punch to his jaw.
"Agh..." he groaned in pain, but he retaliated, throwing an elbow to the other man's neck. It landed, but Peter barely had time to feel triumphant before T'challa flipped him completely over, and ouch, that one hurt, and the breath was knocked out of him, and he was disoriented and on his back in the sand. Peter gasped, trying to stand again, but he couldn't catch his breath fast enough. The king ran around him and threw his head in a headlock.
"R-red!" Peter squeaked, and T'challa let go of him as quickly as he could. Wade was already sprinting over to them. They pushed the Black Panther out of the way, lightly, but hard enough that he got the message and took a few steps back, his hands raised defensively.
Deadpool's hands shook as they came closer to Peter.
"Baby, can I hold you?" Their voice was hushed.
"No, Deadpool, I'm fine," Peter said, irritated. "This isn't the worst pain I've been through." He frowned.
The merc looked sad, but Spider-Man held fast. He finally got up, and his breathing began to even out.
"Peter," T'challa said quietly. "Do you want to spar with Deadpool, now? I'm sure you could learn a lot from them as well."
'Pool was still somewhat sulky, but their mood brightened immediately after hearing their correct pronouns. "Is that a they/them I heard? From someone other than Peter?" They smiled a little, and then skipped over and kissed the king on the cheek, over both of their masks.
Peter's face burned, and he felt horribly sick to his stomach. "I... I think I'm done for the day."
"Of course, Peter," T'challa tried to make him feel a little better and then turned to Wade. "Deadpool, that was inappropriate. Please don't do it again."
"Sorry," The merc muttered, turning away. "Shoulda asked first."
Peter was tired of being treated like a child; Wade needed to know their limits.
His reasoning, though, didn't stop the twist of guilt that knotted in his stomach when Wade wandered off, looking distinctly upset and out of place.