Stupid goddamn mercenary.
Today is not Peter's day. Not only does Deadpool drag him away from one of the only jobs he hasn't been fired from yet (the Bugle doesn't count as he's 'fired' from there every other week), but the dick goes and threatens MJ too. Isn't that just the cherry on top of a truly abhorrent 24 hours?
The only thing stopping Peter from smashing Deadpool's face in and then coming back and doing it again, harder, as Spider-Man is the knowledge that Deadpool was bluffing about going after MJ. Spider-Man and Deadpool might not be best buds, but Peter knows him well enough to know that there are actually a few morals rattling around in that head of his, and that not going after innocents is one of them.
Even before they'd met, Spider-Man knew that Deadpool followed a moral code, no matter how lax Peter considers it. It's well known that offering Deadpool a hit on a kid is a death sentence, and that the merc eagerly takes jobs involving trafficking rings and pedophiles for a discount, if not free. That had been enough to convince Peter of the goodness lurking in Deadpool even in Spider-Man's more government-pawn days, though no one else ever seemed to agree. Stark had warned Peter away from the mercenary every chance he'd gotten, apparently ignoring the fact that Stark Industries has just as much blood on its hands as Deadpool. (Remember kids, there is no such thing as an ethical billionaire!)
So, while Peter might not trust Deadpool quite enough to give up his secret identity, he trusts him enough to believe that he'd never actually harm MJ. That doesn't make Peter any less pissed off that he'd even threaten it, though.
"Alright, let's get chatting, Petey," Deadpool says, settling back into his seat and making it groan. The man is built like a brick shithouse; his shoulders are nearly half as wide as Peter is tall and both muscled thighs are currently spilling halfway off his chair. It can't be comfortable, but he seems completely at ease, settled primly on his chair and seemingly unaware of the way it's creaking under his weight. "I've got things to see and people to do today, so let's get this show on the road!"
Peter glowers as he settles back into his booth. What do you want to know?
"Simple," Deadpool says with a smile. "Any and all of Daredevil's secrets."
I don't know what gives you the impression that I know any of Daredevil's secrets, Peter says. We're not close.
"Maybe," Deadpool hums, his deep voice rumbling through the table and into Peter's arms. The mercenary's voice gets deeper around when he's in or has just come out of Merc Mode, Peter has noticed. "Maybe you're not close, but Devil was ready to slit my throat if I so much as looked your way again. Makes me wonder what about little ol' you is important enough to be so viciously protected. Got any ideas, Bambi?"
Peter shifts in his seat. That insight is uncomfortably close to the truth, which Peter shouldn't be surprised about from Deadpool. He bites his cheeks and does a quick mental inventory of his options.
If he tells Deadpool that Daredevil's protecting him because Peter knows Spider-Man's secret identity, that might just get Deadpool to back off. Deadpool doesn't play games with the sanctity of secret identities, especially Spider-Man's. Something to do with a 'superhero bro code' or some other nonsense. It's possible that might get Deadpool to drop it, but it's equally likely to raise more questions than it answers. Especially if Deadpool's already curious about why civilian Peter Parker is so close to Daredevil, not to mention Spider-Man.
If this were anyone else, Peter would just spin a tale about Daredevil's life afterhours and beg for Matt's forgiveness later. With Deadpool, however, Peter doesn't think a lie will cut it. Peter has spent a number of hours patrolling with the merc as Spider-Man and he knows better than anyone that Deadpool's overzealous puppy demeanor is often just a convenient cover for his calculating mind. A lie probably wouldn't be believed and even if Deadpool doesn't go further with his little MJ charade, he's sure to cause Peter trouble with some other scheme if he doesn't get his way. Deadpool is nothing if not annoying as fuck.
Which leaves Peter with only one real option.
Fine, Peter signs finally, meeting Deadpool's gaze through the mask. You wanna know the real reason Daredevil's protecting me? Deadpool makes a 'duh-uh' noise, which Peter ignores. It's not a secret that I'm keeping for Daredevil, by the way. It's one he's keeping for me.
"I told you to stop being so intriguing, Bambi," Deadpool coos, cupping his chin in his hands. "And yet here you are being all mysterious and shit. What's a merc s'posed to think?" Peter levels him with a dry look but Deadpool just giggles and taps his fingers against his cheeks. Peter gets the distinct impression that, if he could, Deadpool would be swinging his feet and twirling his hair. "What, praytell, is Daredevil hiding for you, Petey Pie Apple of My Eye?"
Peter feels a tension headache begin to form at the base of his skull and closes his eyes against it.
Must you? He signs with as much exasperation as he can.
"I really, really must," Deadpool replies far too cheerfully.
Peter sighs and opens his eyes, sitting up straighter in his seat. Deadpool mirrors him with significantly more excitement.
Alright, fine. Here goes nothing. The truth is that Daredevil is protective of me because he's the only person besides Spider-Man to know that I'm Spider-Man's photographer.
Silence. And then, Deadpool cups his hands around his mouth and makes a loud buzzer sound.
"EEEEEERHT, strike one," he crows. "Try again Bambaroo." He waves his hand as if Peter's supposed to say something else but Peter just frowns at him in confusion.
Excuse me? He asks.
"Oh come on," Deadpool scoffs. "You really thought you could get one over on me?" He splays a dramatic hand on his chest. "Spidey's bestie? Spider-Fan numero uno? Me? Please, darlin', put some respect on my name."
Of course. God forbid Deadpool ever make anything easy.
What in the world are you talking about? Peter repeats.
"Bambi, Bambino, baby." Deadpool tries to place a hand on Peter's cheek, which he slaps away with a glare. "I follow B. Porter's work very closely. Obsessively close. Stalker close. That man has been doing the lord's work of taking pictures of Spider-Man's sweet, sweet ass for longer than you've been alive. No way you're him, but points for trying to get one over on me." He holds a hand heart up in front of his face and looks at Peter's glaring face through it. "And extra points for looking so grumpy that I don't believe you."
I didn't try to get one over on you, Peter signs slowly, like Deadpool's a toddler who doesn't have a good grasp on English yet. Which, like, kinda accurate. I take Spider-Man's pictures for the Bugle, always have.
"Bambi," Deadpool says patronizingly. "You're, like, twelve." Peter glowers at him.
Aren't you convinced I'm a stripper? Deadpool pats one of Peter's hands pityingly.
"You've had a very hard life."
Peter yanks his hand back with a glare. I'm turning 25 next week. Deadpool's head tips to the side.
"You're 25?" Peter rolls his eyes at Deadpool's incredulous and vaguely interested tone and gestures toward the research building Deadpool had dragged him out of not even an hour earlier.
I'm a doctoral student in my third year of grad school. You literally pulled me out of the research building. He eyes Deadpool critically. I thought you were supposed to be good at this mercenary thing. He's gonna have to have a serious talk with Deadpool about proper research practices during their next patrol. If he can stomach seeing the merc again after today, that is.
"Aww, didja look me up, Bambi?" Deadpool croons, but then he pulls back and shakes his head firmly. "Hold on, off topic." He fixes Peter with what he imagines is supposed to be a steely look. "No fucking way you're B. Porter, Petey," he says, poking a finger in his face. "Even if you're 25, you still would've had to start taking Spidey's photos at, like, fifteen."
Peter just shrugs. My family needed help with rent payments. Deadpool frowns at him for a moment before slowly leaning back in his seat. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, long enough to set Peter's teeth on edge. A quiet Deadpool is almost never good, but after a moment Peter picks up on his faint muttering.
"Be cool," he can hear Deadpool murmuring to himself, as if Peter isn't right there. "Be fucking cool. He probably has Spidey ass pics on his laptop right now but we've got be be fucking cool."
Hah, right. Great. Peter resists the urge to kick Deadpool under the table. The mercenary's 'crush' on Spider-Man is one of Peter's least favorite bits that Deadpool does.
Are you gonna say anything? Peter signs a second later. Or are you just gonna continue whispering to yourself? 'Cause I can go.
Deadpool pouts a bit at the interruption but eventually sits up straighter and clears his throat.
"Ah, so B. Porter is just a pseudonym? Keep you safe from Spidey's baddies?" Peter nods and raises his hands to say something but Deadpool cuts him off. "Say, Petey, you think you could put in a good word for me with Spidey? Put a good spin on this whole thing." He gestures at them and the dining hall. "Something like 'Deadpool threatened my girlfriend but it was actually pretty sexy so you should cut him a break' or somethin'? 'Cause he's gonna be pretty pissed with me otherwise if you go back and tattle."
Peter stares at Deadpool, who actually looks like the thinks that might work, and shakes his head.
You kidnapped me, Peter signs sharply. Why would I defend you?
"Oh, please," Deadpool scoffs, waving him off. "I only kidnapped you for, like, an hour. And I bought you pizza!" He gestures at the disgusting slice of dining hall pizza that's been quietly molding on the table between them.
You pointed a gun at the cook, Peter reminds him. You didn't buy shit.
"Same difference," the merc insists. "The point is, this is, like, baby's first kidnapping. This is Daddy Deadpool's specialty Baby Bitch pack: the tamest, least traumatizing, sexiest kidnapping experience on this side of the Appalachians! Torture not included." He shoots finger guns at Peter, who watches on in a confused combination of disdain and amusement. "Besides," Deadpool continues. "It's not like I got anything interesting out of you."
Peter makes an indignant noise, but Deadpool ignores him.
"Only that you take his photos for the Bugle which, like, is kinda fucked up now that I think about it." Deadpool frowns to himself before fixing Peter with a look. "Wait, is Spidey cool with you takin' pics of him? 'Cuz that rag you photograph for is always slandering him. They called him a menace! Can you believe that? My baby boy, a menace!" Deadpool scoffs and raps his knuckles on the table. "There ain't a thing menacing about Spidey. He wouldn't hurt a fly, unless they were a danger to someone else." Deadpool pauses and scratches at his cheek. "It's kinda annoying, honestly."
Peter has to hide a smile at that, reminded of the many times Deadpool has said something similar to Spider-Man's face. In addition to purporting a crush on the hero, Deadpool also often begs Peter to spar and wrestle with him, which he agrees to every so often. It's good practice for his hand-to-hand combat skills, after all, and helps remind him how much force he can exert on the average superhuman without shattering their bones with his spider-strength. It seriously annoys Deadpool when he pulls his punches, though, because 'what's the point of wrestling with someone in skintight spandex if my throat doesn't get crushed at least a little bit' and other such nonsense. Which is another good reason Peter makes sure to hold back his strength because, joke or not, Deadpool does not need any encouragement for his behavior. Even if Peter finds it a little flattering.
Yeah, most of what the Bugle prints is libel, Peter admits, allowing himself a small smile. Deadpool frowns. But in case you haven't noticed, I'm a full time student living in New York City. A steady gig like that isn't the easiest thing in the world to come by. Spider-Man gets the struggle, I guess, because he still lets me photograph him when I ask. It's kinda funny to call the Bugle a 'steady' gig seeing as he gets fired more often than he gets paid, but he has had the job for more than a decade. God, he deserves a raise.
When Peter looks up, Deadpool is staring at him with a hand over his mouth which can't be good. When Peter gives him a confused look, Deadpool lowers his hand so only his fingertips are at his mouth.
"Petey," he breathes reverently. "Do you have Spider-Man's phone number?" He lets out a quiet squeal as he anticipates Peter's answer and Peter quietly regrets the day he was born.
No, he signs firmly. And if I did, there's no way I'd give it to you.
"Bambi," Deadpool whines, clasping his hands together. "Please, please give me his number." The eyes of his mask widen comically large and he all but bats his eyes at Peter. "I'll only use it for good, promise! I'll keep it down to 50 texts a day and everything! And only one booty call a week!" Peter levels him with a flat look and crosses his arms over his chest. Deadpool pouts. "Oh, come on! What's the point of kidnapping you if I don't get any info on Daredevil and I don't get Spidey's phone number?" He huffs and crosses his arms. "How am I supposed to become better if I can't contact my mentor? Ugh, Spidey's, like, the shittiest Mercenaries Anonymous sponsor ever! Of course I don't mean that, Yellow!"
Deadpool falls into bickering with the boxes as Peter watches on in confusion and… a little bit of guilt? Which makes no sense because he never signed on to be Deadpool's 'mentor' or 'sponsor' or whatever the fuck else. Sure, Peter believes that Deadpool can be a better person and atone for the less than moral shit he's done in the past, but that doesn't make Peter responsible for making it happen. Right?
The only thing Peter can think of, though, is how lost and overwhelmed he'd felt after debuting as Spider-Man. It had been so fun and freeing at first, swinging through the streets of New York like some masked savior. But New York's dark underbelly had soon reared its ugly head, and the pressure had increased beyond anything anyone, much less a 15-year old kid from Queens, could handle. Daredevil's guidance had been the only thing that saved Peter from diving into true vigilantism or hanging up the mask for good. If Matt hadn't been there to help him find the light at the end of the tunnel, Peter doesn't know who he would have become.
If he's honest, it's a little scary how much he understands Deadpool's point of view. How much he understands the rage, the feeling of inadequacy in just locking someone up when they've caused so much harm. How much he understands wanting to make sure that murderers and rapists never get the chance to hurt anyone ever again. Because the awful truth is that New York is corrupt to its very bones. Wilson Fisk gets released from prison more often than Spider-Man puts him there, and new supervillains are constantly created to aid crime syndicates built by billionaires. Sometimes, it seems easier to just cull the rot instead of sealing it away and watching it seep right back in.
But that has never been Spider-Man's job. Peter has never wanted that, never wanted to be the one who inspires fear or desperation. His goal has only ever been to help people, to save the people in his community from falling into corruption, or falling victim to it. And if there's someone out there who does feel up to the task of making that protection more proactive, he only hopes they have a strong moral compass. Or guiding light.
Hey, Peter signs suddenly, surprising Deadpool, who stops making obscene gestures toward where Peter assumes the boxes have manifested to look over at him. I, um, can't give you Spider-Man's number, but maybe you can have mine? Deadpool's eyebrows spring up and Peter immediately cringes, holding up his hands again. I mean, he signs, ignoring the blush trying to claw its way up his neck, if you need something from Spider-Man, you can ask me and I'll let him know.
"Oh, Bambi," Deadpool says gleefully, a grin pulling at his mask.
Only ifI deem it to be important enough to bother him with, Peter quickly tacks on at the sight of Deadpool's smile. I'm not passing along any 'booty calls' or whatever.
"Who says the booty calls would be for Spidey if I'm sending them to you, Bambi?" Deadpool purrs, leaning his head on a hand. Peter just rolls his eyes and looks away, willing the heat in his face away. God, he forgot how terrible being around supers without a mask on is. Deadpool's grin widens. "Would you answer if I sent you one, Petey?"
Get fucked.
Deadpool chuckles and leans back in his chair, hands behind his head. "Gladly, Bambi. Gladly."
Stupid goddamn mercenary.