It was a perfectly nice afternoon. Peter hunting for a job online, Wade taking apart and checking weapons while watching TV and running commentary.
For the past two nights they had been chasing after a guy called Crossbones, who apparently had a beef with the Avengers, particularly Captain America, but then again, what else was new? Wherever Cap and the rest of the gang were at the moment, it wasn't New York City. Maybe not even on Earth. Peter suspected Asgard or somewhere else in the universe.
So, Crossbones.
And no Captain America.
The man was insanely armed, very dangerous, and while Peter suspected he wasn't anything but human, he was highly skilled. Maybe he was a mutant, but that was always hard to tell, and if he was a preternatural, his only outstanding ability was to blow up half a city block, trying to draw out Captain America.
Spider-Man had decided to put a stop to that senseless destruction, and Deadpool had tagged along. Wade had been happy to let go and pitch his skills against Crossbones', which had been almost awesome to watch.
Both men were deadly fighters, had a mastery of a dozen weapons and easily adapted whatever they got their hands on as a new defensive or offensive weapon, and Crossbones showed a high tolerance for pain. He didn't heal like Deadpool, but he didn't back down after getting electrocuted or falling off a building onto a car. That had had to hurt in Peter's opinion, but it didn't show.
The chimera was truly having fun, Deadpool throwing out quips or singing 'Another One Bites the Dust', followed by 'Highway to Hell' as he lopped a grenade back at Crossbones.
Spider-Man would have gladly let them battle on, especially since his bonded seemed to truly enjoy himself, but the collateral damage had been high already. He had taken care of getting innocent bystanders out of the way, then he had chased the group of henchmen, webbing them up and handing them over to the police.
Deadpool had chased Crossbones through alleys and streets, but he had been stopped by a barrage of fire that had put a dozen new holes into his costume. Crossbones finally blasted him with whatever insane gauntlet it was that he was wearing on both hands, and he had escaped.
"Coward!" Deadpool yelled after him from where he was lying in his own puddle of blood, unfazed by the dislocated shoulder and nearly-separated leg, which had knitted back as he spoke.
Spider-Man got him off the streets and into an abandoned shop, waiting for the healing factor to hold his partner together, so they could be mobile enough to get back home.
"Ow and ouch," was Deadpool's only comment, pulling out a knife that had been stuck into his side, blood flowing freely from the wound. "Why do they always have to stick pointy knives into me? Okay, the blunt stuff isn't fun either, but hey! Give a man a break! Literally! Go for the ribs, but filling my suit with holes? I'll be sewing all night!" He poked at the bullet holes.
"Had fun?" Spider-Man teased.
"Oh! I had. Until that spoil-sport made like a rabbit." He sniffed disdainfully, still poking at his torn suit.
Peter shot webbing at the wounds, keeping more blood from flowing, then gotten them home.
By the time they arrived at their place, the wounds had closed and only the costume showed the holes, which had Wade grumble angrily about bad guys who weren't considerate enough to think of the dry cleaning costs and the repair materials needed as he stripped.
"Gonna bill this one to the Avengers. How come we start mopping up their bad guys now?" Wade asked as he tossed the suit and walked into the shower.
Peter, checking his own costume and finding too many tears for his liking, shrugged.
"I can't just ignore someone tearing through New York, even if he was looking for an Avenger. Innocent people got hurt, Wade."
The chimera stuck his head out of the shower, water running off his skin and pooling on the floor.
"I know you're a do-gooder, baby boy. Not an Avenger, but ready to jump into the fray and kick ass. Love that about you." He smiled at Peter, who chuckled. "Just sayin'. We're piling up dry cleaning bills. Not to mention all those bandages and band-aids. Well, for you. Me, I'm pristine. And what do we get? Not even a box of cookies! Their Yelp review will be scathing!"
Peter tossed a towel at his face.
SD
Three hours after getting back from kicking villain ass, Peter finally snapped his laptop shut and joined Deadpool on the couch, pushing several weapons aside to put his feet up on the table.
"Rude," Wade muttered.
He just nudged him with an elbow and leaned against the merc, who was wearing a long-sleeve shirt that proclaimed 'My other shirt is clean'. Deadpool made a happy little noise.
"You have a really huge room for that stuff," Peter remarked. "Actually, a whole floor that has been reinforced and looks like SHIELD's training facility."
"New rule for the roommate agreement?"
"We don't have a roommate agreement. Just saying."
Wade poked his foot at the guns. "All secured. Not gonna shoot my little spider. Accidentally or otherwise."
"I know."
Peter's spider sense was absolutely quiet when around Deadpool, even when he was fiddling with his weapons, and it had been close to forever.
"No luck?" the mercenary wanted to know, eyes flicking to the laptop, voice a little quieter.
"Nope."
Job hunting was exhausting. Especially after crime-fighting.
"Might have to look into freelancing more now."
Wade opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again.
Silence fell between them. It was unusual for Deadpool to be silent for any amount of time, but he could be. Especially when plastered to Spider-Man. Peter had early on discovered that a simple touch could quiet him, and having Peter in full body contact resulted in a very relaxed and mellow chimera.
Sometimes he wondered just what it was the chimera reacted to. The scientist in him was curious. Was it the physical contact? Was it Peter himself? Was it something in his mutant DNA that touched the preternatural-mutant DNA of his partner? Would it have worked on the hellhound Wade had been? Or was it only possible since the mutation had taken place?
Peter didn't want to research it too deeply, because that meant experimentation. That again had Wade react negatively. He had an aversion to anything even close to a hospital or a medical facility, which was understandable, and just mentioning that he wanted to look into the genetic changes and the results of what Weapon X had done would probably end very, very badly for both of them.
No, this was good. It was perfectly okay. Absolutely fine. Peter could work with what he had, use touch to calm the chimera, use the bond to bring him down from any kind of emotional overreaction.
No science needed.
Instinct worked fine.
"Do you…" Wade broke the silence after a while, "want to go out?"
Peter, who had by now slid halfway into the cushions, glanced up into the dark eyes. "Patrol?"
"No. Dinner." Wade sounded hesitant, fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt.
"Dinner?"
"The main meal of the day, eaten in the evening, unless you're in Britain, then it might just be in the middle of the day."
"Wade."
He blew out a breath. "Go out. Dinner in a restaurant. You and me. Would you want that?"
Peter sat up slowly, slightly overrun. He knew Wade was highly self-conscious concerning his looks. He also drew looks. People stared at his unmasked face, shocked, pitying, sometimes sickened. They saw the scars and made up their minds. They saw either a disabled person, a handicap, or a victim. And some whispered to themselves, a few very loudly.
There had been a more positive incident with a lady telling off a couple that had been openly gawking.
"Don't let them get to you," she had told Wade firmly. "Whatever happened to you, it doesn't change who you are inside. Let them whisper and talk."
And then she had looked at Peter, giving him a warm smile. He had just nodded his thanks.
Peter had once or twice thrown murderous glares at those who were clearly talking one too secretly about Wade's scars.
Spider-Man and Deadpool in full costume drew less looks than Wade Wilson's features.
So Wade didn't really want to show himself in public.
"Do you?" Peter finally asked.
"I asked first."
He sensed the chimera twisting between them, agitated, unsure, fighting. He let himself relax, mentally reach for his bonded, and the creature surged forward, enveloping him in darkness.
The waves smoothed over.
Peter heard Wade exhale.
"Are you asking me out on a date?" he teased gently.
The other man stared, then evaded his eyes. "Kinda?"
Oh-kay…?
"Why?" Peter wanted to know, still baffled.
"I thought you might like it. Want to do… normal stuff. Couply stuff."
He nearly burst out laughing, but contained himself. "Couply stuff?" Peter still echoed, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice completely.
Wade ducked his head. He was clearly out of his depth. Way out of his depth. Absolutely drowning in the deep end of the pool that was an ocean. Give him a target to shoot, stab or blow up and he wouldn't hesitate to jump into the fray, against overwhelming odds and possibly dying at least once.
This… this was different.
"Bit late for that, I know," he mumbled.
"Well, no, not really. We had dates. On roofs and in alleys. We still have them."
"You make it sound as dirty as it is."
"I like it." Peter smiled. "And fancy dinner dates are vastly overvalued." He scooted closer. "What we have is what I want, Wade."
"Sure?"
"Very. You think I'd just shut up if something bothers me? I'm not the mousy little maiden."
"You'd make a good maiden," was the immediate reply, the teasing note clear to hear as Deadpool's spirits picked up. "All righteous and valiant. Oh wait, that's the knight. So am I the maiden? I think I could find a maid costume. Uh, no, right, not that… But I'd look amazing in drag. Is it drag if I wear it over the costume? Do you want me in drag?"
Peter ran a feather-light caress over the sweater material, stilling the words. "I like you as you are, Wade," he stated. "No drag. No dresses. The costume is hot enough."
The bright grin was all he wanted to see. "Hot, huh?"
"Yep. Very. So are your civvies. We dated in both."
Deadpool suddenly lowered his gaze, hands in his sleeves, twisting the cuffs.
"Who defines what a normal date is?" Peter asked reasonably. "I like to hang out with you. I like you as my partner when I kick bad guy ass. I like to wake up next to you, Wade."
That got him a small smile. "…so do I…" was the quiet echo.
"We're bonded, right?" Peter added softly. "You know it. You know what it means. You wowed me with your charming persona and cheap take-out."
"Cheap?!" he exclaimed, head coming up, mood shifting into playfully outraged. "I'll have you know that Peppi Margarita's is one of the most exclusive and expensive tacos stands this side of the border! And this is the expert talking. I'm Canadian, born and raised!"
Peter grinned. "Noted. Greasy Mexican from the greasiest take-out stand in town. So, what brought that on? The dates."
"No idea. Messed up brain. One bullet too many."
"Did you get shot in the head?"
"Only about 428 times."
"Lately?"
Wade tilted his head, thinking. "428 times? No? I think? Might have forgotten. Regrowing the brain can leave memory holes sometimes. Knives are better. Grenades are more of a complete solution."
Peter squeezed his wrist, stopping the muttering. The chimera's expression was suddenly sharper, more focused on him, and he felt it shift closer. It radiated an insane danger, teeth bared and bristling without being threatened.
"I don't want walks in the park, dinner dates in fancy or not so fancy restaurants, movies and whatever. We have all that… our way. I want you. As you are. With all the weird and the crazy. Because in this life, my life, your weird and your crazy kinda… equalize my weird and crazy. It makes it... good."
Wade's presence was incredibly intense, the dark irises turning slightly silver at the edge. In one lithe, strong move he had Peter on his back on the couch. It would be easy to push back. He was a lot stronger than Deadpool. Right now he didn't mind the position at all.
"How do I deserve you?" the merc breathed.
Peter wound his fingers into the loose sweater. "Fate," he murmured and drew him closer, kissing Wade.
"Don't believe in her. She's a bitch. Like Death. We don't talk any more. She's pretty much declared me persona non grata and won't even say hello for the brief time I'm visiting."
"Hm, figures. You piss off everyone."
"My specialty. No skills required."
"I think it is a skill," he replied between more kisses. "Your power."
"Even you?"
He laughed, nipping at the scarred lips. "Sometimes."
"Hm, haven't lost it then."
"Nope."
Peter wormed his fingers underneath the sweater, over the uneven skin, and the effect was immediate. Wade groaned softly and buried closer.
"Don't deserve you," he repeated.
"You do. All of me. And you got me. Not going to give this… you… up."
They spent a while like that, just snuggled together, breathing in sync, Peter drifting off in the warmth that surrounded him. The TV was still running, some kind of game show that Peter only followed with half an ear. Most of his attention was on the chimera in his arms, the dangerous claws curled around Peter's very self, possessive, and growling at any intrusion.
Not that there was any.
tbc...