Unfortunately for Deadpool, Peter Parker can be one stubborn bitch. It takes fifteen minutes and six 'phone etiquette rules' for Peter to actually give up his phone number, Deadpool's seduction attempt apparently doing nothing to sway him.
[But it did turn his neck a very pretty shade of red!]
{It was more of a carnation pink.}
"Ugh, don't remind me," Deadpool sighs, tapping his fingers impatiently on his belt. "Gonna get me all hot and bothered before we even start looking for Spidey."
Deadpool hadn't wanted to waste any time tracking Spider-Man down, but talking Malia at El Taco Nako into including extra guacamole for his boo thang is a necessary delay. Spidey's taco to guac ratio is a very serious matter that is not to be trifled only takes a few minutes to get the food, anyway, and then Deadpool's off down the crowded New York streets.
Usually, if Deadpool wants to find Spider-Man outside of their biweekly patrol schedule, he has to just wander the city aimlessly, keeping an eye on the rooftops and skylines in hopes of spotting Spidey's bendy form thwipping across the city. It's something of a point of contention between the two of them because Deadpool knows he has a phone but Websy refuses to give him his number. Lucky for Deadpool, though, a certain easily embarrassed grad student hadn't held out as well as Spidey.
3:47pm
Petey
Pt
Bambi tell Spides im lookin 4 him
3:51pm
Fuck off
3:51pm
:(
im hurt
4:02pm
did you not listen to the rules? no texting during school hours
4:02pm
webs isnt in school tho
tell him to meet me at 10th and water
4:07pm
? ﾟﾏﾻ
4:08pm
ill take tht as a yes
Deadpool lets out a sigh and leans back against a grimy brick wall, prepared to wait upwards of 5 hours to see his baby boy. So, imagine his surprise when not fifteen minutes later a red-gloved hand shoots out of an alleyway and yanks him in by the collar, nearly knocking the take-out bags out of his arms.
"Spider Babe!" Deadpool cries as he's thrust against a wall. "Careful with the Mexican food, it's not as resilient as I am!"
Daredevil's hand slams into the brick wall beside Deadpool's head, showering them both in dust and setting Deadpool groaning.
"God, not you again! What do I have to do to get you and Spidey to switch up your glove designs, huh? If it's gonna take a sexual favor, I wanna do it with Spidey! 'Cause, like, no offense Matty, but you're kinda getting gray around the edges. Not that I don't love a silver fox, of course, Pedro Pascal can get it, but I'm more of a young and springy ma-"
Devil's fist collides with Deadpool's stomach and his breath punches out of him, cutting the end off his sentence. Why does no one let him monologue these days?
"Shut the fuck up," Daredevil growls and Deadpool wheezes a chuckle.
"What?" He asks. "No kiss hello?"
That earns him another fist in his kidneys, despite the fact that Daredevil's fully aware it has little to no effect on him, and Deadpool laughs again. He hasn't been used as a punching bag by a hero in a while and he'd forgotten how funny it is. Daredevil doesn't even have superstrength!
"I thought we had an agreement, Wilson," Devil hisses, fist withdrawing to grasp the billy club on his waist. Deadpool bets it'd bring him a lot of peace to bash his skull in with it."You leave Parker alone and I leave your corpse in one piece."
"Aw c'mon, Devil," Deadpool says, leaning back against the wall like hadn't just had his guts rearranged [and not in the fun way!] by Hell's Kitchen's resident do-gooder vigilante. Which, well, he hadn't really. It takes a lot more than that to get Deadpool's organs to squish. "Surely you know having all your limbs attached went out of Vogue years ago?" He tilts his head in consideration. "Unless you meant you'd leave me in One Piece™ the anime, in which case I might just have to take you up on it. I think I've had a crossover or two in that universe via a thirteen year old's sloppily written fanfic, but that might just be the brain damage talking."
{Don't pin that on us.}
Daredevil's hand tightens on his billy club but he just takes a deep breath through his nose. Deadpool nods sagely.
"That's right, buddy. Violence is never the answer, and if we keep up the breathing exercises–"
"I am going to lay this out very clearly for you," Devil interrupts, and this time it's his Matt Murdock tear-your-life-to-shreds-with-a-single-deposition voice. Which, y'know, would be scary if Deadpool had a life to tear to shreds, but as it is it's pretty benign. "You will never look into, never speak to, never think about Peter Parker again or I and every hero in this city will find a way to kill you and make it stick."
Deadpool rolls his eyes. That threat is pretty benign, too. He's tried every trick in the book to get his deaths to 'stick', but Shiklah boots him back to the realm of the living every single time. It's like a bad episode of The Bachelorette where every other dead thing on Earth gets a rose from his beloved, but Deadpool just gets kicked out of the villa on repeat. God how he wants that fucking rose.
The only part of Devil's threat that actually raises any concern is the 'every hero in this city' bit. Because Spidey's in the city. But would Spidey really work to see him killed? Surely not. Spider-Man's morals are iron-clad, always have been. He almost never uses his full, lethal strength when fighting baddies, not even if his own life is on the line. It's a constant point of contention between the two of them.
A few years after eapon-Way e-Xay, before Deadpool made the career change from morally-gray [dark, dark gray] mercenary to anti-hero, there were a few times that Spider-Man had stepped in to prevent one of Deadpool's hits in NYC. Spidey always fought tooth and nail to protect the people of NYC, even the ones scummy enough to make it onto a mercenary's hit list. But when Deadpool had shown up to put the hero out of commission for good {What? He was bad for business. Still is.}, Deadpool had learned how much of a suicidal idiot Spider-Man really is.
It had been immediately noticeable that Spider-Man was pulling his punches far more than he had when he and Deadpool had gone toe to toe before. He hadn't used nearly as much of his superstrength and had relied on his webs far more. It was like he was less concerned about protecting himself than he had been about protecting Deadpool's marks. Which is ludacris, because the people Deadpool goes after are scum, and Spidey's a gem. A light in the murky, fucked up ocean that is NYC.
The only reason Deadpool hadn't rocked Spider-Man's shit that night was because Spidey had slipped up. His voice had cracked during one of his stupid little quips, his fear bleeding through, and it tripped Deadpool up enough that Spidey managed to web him to a wall. Deadpool hadn't made any attempts to escape the cocoon after that, though, because he was suddenly, queasily convinced that Spider-Man was underage.
After that, Deadpool had avoided the kid like the plague. There was a three year span where he refused any and all jobs in New York, especially if they were in NYC. His income had taken a bit of a hit, sure, but it was worth it if it meant he didn't have to fight a fucking minor when completing a hit. Even after he'd felt comfortable enough to return to New York, it took another three years for him and Spidey to even start patrolling together. Not to mention the kinda-friends they are now.
{'Kinda-friends' is pushing it. We're patrol partners at best.}
[Awww c'mon, Spidey's fond of us]
{Someone should probably tell him that then, because he sure doesn't act like it.}
[No, no, you can see it in his eyes! He's definitely warming up to us]
{It's been two years; this is as warm as he's gonna get.}
Deadpool pushes the boxes' bickering toward the back of his mind and Daredevil's voice sweeps back in.
"-care if we have to lock you in an airless cell for all eternity, or throw you in an active volca-"
Ugh, Deadpool so doesn't want to deal with the human embodiment of catholic guilt right now. The whole scary-calm-growled-threats thing might have worked on him once upon a time, but Deadpool owns scary-calm intimidation now. Besides, being intimidated by Daredevil is fun and all, but being rough-housed by an individual without super strength is particularly disappointing when he'd been expecting to be smacked around by barely contained spider-strength. His baby boy could punch his head clean off if he really wanted to. Daredevil's not even trying.
"Look," Deadpool interrupts, not even bothering to affect his usual cheer. "Petey already spilled the beans on his involvement with Spider-Man, so please, save the shovel talk for someone else, 'kay? Maybe the lawyer guy who's been making eyes at that little secretary of yours?" Devil poorly masks a flinch at that and Deadpool happily barrels on. "I know you two were involved, but you shouldn't take your anger out on innocent bystanders. I'm a perfectly-"
"Oy!" A voice interrupts, and Deadpool and the boxes both immediately stop their yammering. "Can you two please stop terrorizing each other? I don't want to have to put you in timeout." Deadpool and Daredevil both look up to see Spider-Man crouched above them, Overworked Spider-Mom mode fully engaged.
"Spider-Man," Daredevil intones just as Deadpool squeals "Spidey!"
"Have you come to save me?" Deadpool asks, clasping his hands by his ear and popping a foot up. "Ugh, my knight in shining armor! Oh, wait, wait! I have the perfect dress for this if I just pop home and–"
"DD, can I take over?" Spider-Man interrupts again, leaping down from the wall and landing gracefully beside them. "I have a bone to pick."
"Aww no, c'mon Spidey! Devil and I were just having a very serious talk about healthy coping mechanisms. You don't wanna get in on this, maybe start a little threesome action? 'Cause don't think I haven't noticed how you throw yourself at bad guys when you're having a bad week, baby boy. It can't be healthy, especially with how shitty your healing factor is shit compared to–"
"He's all yours," Daredevil mutters testily, pushing away from Deadpool and stalking off with not even a wave goodbye. What an angry little man.
"–mine. And I know you don't eat enough because sometimes I can see your ribs even through the suit. Which is, like, really bad for you since you burn calories like a mofo fighting baddies. Oh, speaking of which!" Deadpool bends down and scoops the bags of takeout off the ground, luckily not too grimy from the New York City streets. "I got tacos!"
"Don't try to lecture me, 'Pool," Spider-Man says, snatching one of the food bags from his grasp. Deadpool beams. "We both know who fucked up here. I'm gonna rip you a new one, but let's take this somewhere a little more out of the way, yeah? 'Cause I have a feeling this is gonna get loud and I don't need the cops called on us. Again." He leaps easily up onto the fire escape, not even turning to look if Deadpool's gonna follow.
[We all know we're gonna follow]
"Oh, I'd love to get loud with you, baby boy," Deadpool coos, hoisting himself up onto the fire escape with significantly more effort.
{We do have at least a hundred pounds on him.}
"Any time, any place. Just name the date and I'll-" Spidey glares down at him, lenses slanted in warning, and Deadpool clears his throat. "Right, right, 'course baby boy, I'm right behind you." He pulls up his mask and, takeout bags clenched in his teeth, diligently follows Spidey up to the roof. He tries not to ogle him too obviously, but what's a man to do with an ass like that a foot in front of him?
Spidey disappears over the top before Deadpool does and there's a bit of rustling before he pokes his head over the ledge.
"...Did you get me extra guac?"
"Of course, baby boy," Deadpool calls through his teeth. "I know you like it wet." He throws in a salacious wink and Spidey just stares at him for a moment before humming and once again disappearing behind the ledge.
Deadpool grins.
. . .
Peter is significantly less angry than he'd expected to be. He'd thought that seeing Deadpool again would reignite his burning rage at the way he'd dragged Peter out of work and threatened MJ, but he just can't muster any up. Which is kind of odd seeing as Peter really only ever finds himself switching between three base emotions: anger, anxiety, and bone-deep exhaustion. Although, to be fair, Spider-Man and Peter aren't really the same person at all these days. If they were, Spider-Man would average about 10 nervous breakdowns a day and Peter Parker would be able to speak without feeling like crawling out of his skin.
Now that he thinks about it, Spider-Man has always been more of an alter ego than a version of Peter. Spider-Man is confident and self-assured, most at home in extremely chaotic and dangerous situations. In moments of life or death, there's no time for second guessing or agonizing over decisions; Spider-Man either acts, or people die. Peter Parker, on the other hand, is a neurotic nervous wreck (he's self aware enough to know that, at least). He's gotten more of a handle on the anxiety in recent years, but things have been hard since Gwen's death.
Gwen died near the end of his fourth year of undergrad as almost a direct consequence of Peter's big mouth and Spider-Man's lack of quick thinking. If he'd just gone after Harry as soon as he'd hopped on that glider, or if he'd never mentioned his genes being linked to the cure his father had been working on, Gwen might still be here. Her death had haunted Peter for a long time after the fact. It still does. It's been over two years since the incident, but the memories still leave him choked up when trying to speak in front of anyone who isn't family and jumping into danger headfirst as Spider-Man, terrified that any hesitation will result in an innocent person's death.
Aunt May had offered to help him pay for his first few therapy sessions in the aftermath, but his new difficulty with speaking and the secrets from his double life had been too much to overcome. Instead, he just fully threw himself into his studies. School and Spider-Man became his everything so that by the time he gets home all he has time to do is fall into mindless, dreamless sleep. He doesn't want any time to think or to yearn or to regret; he just needs to push forward to the next day, week, month, year.
It was around that time that he'd started talking to Deadpool, too. When school and work weren't enough to keep his mind occupied, he'd taken to staying out later and later, patrolling until well past dawn. And it seemed the early hours of the morning were when Deadpool operated, too. Peter had seen the merc around, of course, and had fought him a half dozen times. He'd even almost been choked out by the man once when he was 17. It had been terrifying and overwhelming, but it seemed Deadpool never actually intended to kill him because he'd eventually backed off with orders to Peter to 'go home, kid'. He hadn't really understood the point of that, but Peter isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
After all of that (and nearly half a decade) Spider-Man and Deadpool's interactions have become almost… friendly. Amicable. It's possible that losing Gwen, that being responsible for losing Gwen, has made him more open to interacting with the merc. Sure, he's kooky and more than a little unwell, but he also doesn't expect anything of Peter. Not kindness, or happiness, or emotional stability. Peter can be as angry and mean and violent as he wants and Deadpool never blinks. He's weirdly loyal and nice(?) for a not-all-there unstoppable killing machine. Even though Peter had been an absolute terror to him the first few times they'd met, itching for a fight or something to ease the pressure building under his skin, Deadpool had taken it all. He never balked at the anger and grief that had been haunting both Peter Parker and Spider-Man for the past two years.
And that had made Peter… trust him. Kind of. Enough to give him his number, at least. Which, what a hare-brained move. Deadpool pesters the shit out of Spider-Man enough as it is, and now Peter has given him an easy avenue through which he can pester Peter Parker, too.
Maybe Peter should be mad at Deadpool. For insinuating himself in Peter's life so thoroughly, like a stray dog that won't stop following you and begging for scraps. Though, if Peter's honest, Deadpool's interest in both sides of his life is kinda nice. No one's ever been interested in Spider-Man and Peter before. Sure, MJ knows what he does in his free time (and it's not stripping, thank you very much), but she makes sure to keep herself far removed from it. Which is more than fair seeing as the last person he brought in on that secret had… Well. It's best if she keeps her distance.
But the point is, Deadpool's not a terrible person to have around. He's tolerant, but he knows when Peter needs a push. He's good at playing the villain when need be, but he rarely does (with Spider-Man, at least). He's even conformed to Peter's no killing rule. Well, mostly conformed as far as Peter can tell, but that's pretty good for someone who has been killing for over a decade. Now if Peter can only get him to drop other things…
"So, baby boy, when are we gettin' loud together?" Deadpool asks, clapping and rubbing his hands together. "'Cause I'm not one to balk at exhibitionism, but I'm not sure how happy JJJ would be to find me spreading you open on the roof of his building. Or, hey, the other way around works too 'cause I think you'd look just gorgeous pinning me to the wall. And I mean in a sexy way this time, not like last week when you left me webbed there. Although I could get into that, too, now that I think about it. How do you feel about orgasm denial?"
Peter's hand instinctively goes to the bridge of his nose, rubbing at the spot that starts to hurt every time Deadpool gets started on this topic.
"I'm not having sex with you, DP," he repeats for probably the millionth time and Deadpool scoffs.
"You'll fall for me one day, Spidey," Deadpool insists. "No one can resist my natural charisma. Not to mention the sex appeal!" He strikes a ridiculous pose, flexing his muscles and popping out a hip in what's probably supposed to be a sexy way. Peter bites back a smile.
He likes the way Deadpool looks, aesthetically. He's big and warm and would probably fully engulf him in his arms if they were to hug. But he doesn't make Peter horny. No one does.
Despite knowing each other for years at this point, Spider-Man still hasn't gotten around to telling Deadpool that he isn't into sex. Like, at all. Not with Deadpool, not with other people, not even with himself. Peter probably should've said something the first time Deadpool had propositioned him but he'd felt too awkward about it. Besides, it's not as if it makes him uncomfortable. Peter's perfectly fine with talking about sex, and joking about it. He's 90% sure that's all it is to Deadpool, anyway. A joke.
"Sure, when pigs fly," Peter replies breezily and Deadpool points a warning finger at him.
"Don't go sayin' things like that, baby boy. Next thing you know I'll put a pig in a jetpack and then where will you be? In bed with me, that's where." Peter chuckles and leans back against the D of the Daily Bugle sign behind him, unwrapping one of his tacos.
"You know I'm supposed to be chewing you out right now, right? You fucked up."
"I'd like to be something you out," Deadpool leers and Peter rolls his eyes. No way he's getting off that easily.
"You stalked my photographer, DP," he repeats through a mouthful. "That's not cool."
"Okay one," Deadpool says, ticking off his fingers. "I didn't know he was your photographer when I stalked him. I just wanted to know what Daredevil was hiding. And, like, honestly, it's his fault for telling me not to look into the guy. That's like trying to keep candy from a baby!" He yanks up his mask and shoves an entire taco in his mouth and then pulls it back down, crunching loudly. Peter cringes but doesn't comment. "And two," he says near unintelligibly, "Petey seemed cool with it. Didn't even cry or nothing."
"You shouldn't be making innocent civilians cry anyway, Deadpool," Peter admonishes. Does this guy hear the things he says? "Did you even do proper research before taking a job out on him? I thought you were being more discerning with the cards you accepted?" Deadpool makes a dissenting noise through the taco and waves a hand at him.
"It wasn't a job." Peter frowns.
"What do you mean? You said going after him was job."
"Nah, I just said that to spook him," Deadpool admits, shrugging and swallowing. "Make him think some big bad wants him dead and he'll spill his guts." He rubs absently at the back of his head. "Didn't really work, though."
Peter crosses his arms.
"So, what, scare tactic #1 doesn't work so you threaten his friend? Is that it?"
"Umm, yeah, kinda." Peter only has to narrow his eyes for Deadpool to begin backpedaling. "But, hey, it wasn't like I was actually gonna hurt her! I just didn't expect so much resistance from some rando college kid so I had to think on my feet. Petey's got quite the nerves of steel, he barely flinched at my other threats."
"That does not mean the next rational move is to threaten to torture his friends," Peter points out. Deadpool hums and shakes his head.
"No, I'm pretty sure it is. It's either that or I actually torture his friend and you know how much I hate torture."
"You love to torture."
"No, I love to maim," Deadpool corrects. "Torturing is only fun if they deserve it, and Red probably didn't."
"Probably?" Deadpool shrugs.
"Who knows what skeletons she's got in her closet, a pretty girl like her. Hell, she could be Black Widow for all I know!"
"I thought Black Widow was, like, 40?"
"I don't see your point."
Peter closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face. Somehow Deadpool always manages to do this, talk in circles until Peter doesn't even remember the point he was trying to make. It shouldn't be a surprise that he's able to do it, what being nicknamed 'the merc with the mouth' and all, but it's just frustrating that Peter lets him get away with it. Every. Single. Time.
"Okay, just," Peter waves his hands, shooing away the entire conversation. "Did you even get the information you were looking for, or was all of that for nothing?"
"Aww, c'mon Spidey," Deadpool whines. "You know the answer to that. You don't have to rub it in."
"That'd be a no, then." Deadpool throws up his hands.
"Okay, fine, I didn't get the information I was going for! You happy?" Peter shrugs,
"Kinda, yeah."
"Okay, but I found out something far more interesting!"
Peter rolls his eyes and leans down to unwrap another taco. This should be fun.
"What, praytell, did you figure out?" He asks, taking a bite.
"Your photographer, Peter Parker," Deadpool says slowly, drawing out the suspense. "Is a stripper!"
Peter chokes on his taco. He doubles over, coughing and hacking, trying to expel the bits of tortilla and cheese from his lungs.
He'd completely forgotten about MJ's slip up and her subsequent shitty cover story. Honestly, he's pretty surprised Deadpool bought it at all, but it probably has to do with some wishful thinking on the merc's part.
Suddenly a large, warm hand lands on his back and begins rubbing in wide, comforting circles. Peter stiffens slightly but stays bent over.
"Jeez Spidey!" Deadpool says from right beside him. "You'd think I said he did gay monkey porn! It's just stripping, y'know, like at a club?" His hand pauses for a moment before starting again, slowly, his tone slightly disapproving. "Y'know, sex work is nothing to turn your nose up at, Webs. Hundreds of thousands of people do it everyday." He pauses again but when Peter doesn't say anything, he continues on. "I hope you won't be weird about it with Petey; he's just tryna make a living, y'know. I can't imagine this place pays him very well." He stomps his foot hard on the roof, likely startling some poor worker in the office below. "You won't be weird about it, right Spidey? You're not secretly a prude?"
There's a playful lilt to his tone but the question still sets off another round of coughing, this time of the 'oh god please don't make me out myself' variety. Deadpool's hand continues its lazy circling, occasionally switching to smooth up and down Peter's spine and making him clamp down hard against a shiver. Lord only knows what Deadpool would think if he felt that. Deadpool manages to stay impressively quiet as Peter gathers himself, and the silence is surprisingly nonlethal. Actually, it's almost… comforting. Sweet.
Oookay, that's enough of that.
Peter draws himself up into a standing position, wiping his mouth, and Deadpool lets his hand slide easily off his back.
"Thanks," he rasps, clearing his throat and pulling his mask back down over his chin.
"Anytime, baby boy," Deadpool says easily. "You good?" His tone is full of hesitation, and that's just another reminder of how much Peter underestimates him sometimes. Deadpool hides it well, but Peter knows that under the innuendo and obnoxious joking is an incredibly perceptive individual. Things rarely escape his notice, and Peter's moment of panic definitely did not.
"I'm fine," Peter says. "You just surprised me. You, ah, said he's a stripper?" He turns to look at Deadpool and freezes when he finds him much closer than expected.
"Yeah," Deadpool laughs, brushing off Peter's discomfort. "He didn't tell me himself, but that friend of his let the cat out of the bag because she thought I was some BDSM dude from the club." He leans against the D sign Peter's backed up against and crosses his arms crossed lightly across his chest. Peter has to tilt his head up a little bit to look at him, and silently nods, unsure of what to say.
He hasn't been this close to someone in a while, especially in such a casual, easy setting. MJ and Aunt May hug him occasionally, and villains knock him around near daily, but those moments are always fleeting. This, this is sustained, warm proximity. They're not touching, not quite, but Peter can feel the intense heat radiating off Deadpool's body.
It's perfectly lovely - almost achingly nice, really - and Peter can't remember if this is typical for them. Deadpool doesn't seem uncomfortable, at least. His body language is loose and languid, seemingly unaffected by their close proximity. Peter takes a breath and decides to follow his lead.
"Peter did describe you as being dressed like 'a porn clown'," he notes pointedly, and Deadpool crows another laugh. He moves one of his hands to his hip, and god is it supposed to burn like that when he brushes Peter's shoulder? Peter shifts a half step back.
"I remember him calling me a clown, but porn clown is a new one. Points to Petey for creativity!" Peter chuckles at that and ducks his head, feeling silly for feeling warm at the indirect praise. Deadpool is always saying nice things (read: horny things) about Spider-Man to his face but there's something uniquely sweet about him praising Peter when he doesn't think he's there to hear it. Peter nods to himself.
"He's a good… associate," he decides on saying because what the hell do you call yourself when the person you're talking to doesn't know you're talking about yourself?
Deadpool whistles and shakes his head at that, smiling ruefully. Peter looks up.
"What?"
"'Associate', baby boy?" Deadpool asks, his voice dripping with feigned disappointment. Peter blushes under the mask. "Really? He's not even an acquaintance?"
Peter scoffs and rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his skin is heating up. As if Deadpool has any room to complain about incorrect name calling.
"That's rich coming from you, 'Pool," he says archly, meeting his eyes. Deadpool splays an offended hand on his chest.
"From moi? It is not! I call my friends as I see them, baby boy."
"Yeah, I'm not sure you're one to talk about appropriate names for people, baby boy," Peter mocks.
There's a long beat of silence where Deadpool just stares at him, and Peter's brain stalls out and slowly ticks back over the last thing he'd just said and…
God damn it.
There's the slightest pause before Deadpool lets out a low, sultry laugh that Peter's sure would put a tremor in most other people's knees. (Whether from fear or arousal is really up in the air.)
"You know better than to say things like that to me, Spidey," Deadpool murmurs, a smile in his voice. There's a smile on his lips, too, a really sharp one, but that's neither here nor there. "Can't go giving me false hope or I might start hitting on you for real." Peter swallows as his stomach flutters a little at the tone but he just scoffs again, disbelieving.
"Are you saying you've only been playing up until now?" Deadpool gives a too-casual shrug and Peter shakes his head at him. "Christ, I'd hate to see what your actual flirting looks like, then. What do you do, get on your knees and beg?" And oh God, that's the wrong (right?) thing to say because Deadpool's mouth slides into a sly grin and he reaches out a hand to place on the scaffolding by Peter's ear, effectively caging him into the corner.
"If that's something you'd like, baby boy," Deadpool purrs and yeah, okay, it's not exactly sexy but it's- it's something, that's for damn sure. It's confusing and electrifying and oh god what does that feeling in his chest mean?
Deadpool's not even a foot away, heat pumping off him like he's radioactive, which, like, ironic. Peter doesn't know where to look; at Deadpool's eyes or his mouth or his giant fucking arms? Because they're truly massive and it doesn't turn him on but it does send his heart somersaulting through his chest, suffocating any attempt at speech.
The silence between them is growing again but this time he can feel the tension stretching between them like day-old taffy. Oh god, since when have they had tension? Peter is far, far out of his depth which means it would a terrible idea for him to open his mouth right now-
"No can do, 'Pool," he blurts out, and somehow his voice is steady. "I'm afraid you'd like it too much."
…Why would he say that. Oh god, why would he say that?
Deadpool is staring at him in silence again and probably abject horror, and Peter closes his eyes against the shame of it all. He'd like to jump off the building now, thanks, and go lay on the ground for a while and think about his stupid, stupid words.
Peter goes to turn his head away, to hide from his big stupid mouth and all its consequences, but then Deadpool's hand is there, gripping his jaw, and Peter's eyes fly open.
Deadpool's grip is tight but gentle and Peter swears his heart stops in his chest as Deadpool oh so carefully turns Peter's face back to look at him. They're practically nose to nose. Peter's sure Deadpool can feel his pulse fluttering wildly beneath his hand.
"What did I say about making those comments, baby?" Deadpool asks, low and sweet, and okay, what the fuck. How on god's green Earth did Peter end up here, flirting with Deadpool like his life fucking depends on it. Maybe it does. It kinda feels like it does. "You're gonna give me ideas, Spidey," Deadpool croons. "Bad, bad ideas."
Peter's mind blanks out for a second before a shiver runs through him. That's… Okay, yeah, yep, that's where Peter is gonna bow out. It's been fun, folks, but that's all the sexually charged statements we've got for this evening! Thanks for coming and don't forget to recycle your programs at the door!
A police car screams by a few blocks away, and Peter takes the opportunity to put a hand on Deadpool's extended arm and duck under it, slipping out of his grasp. He pops up on the other side in time to see Deadpool twist around to look after him, still grinning.
Christ.
"That's, uh, that's my cue," Peter says as casually as he can (so, not casual at all), and hops up onto the ledge behind him. He has no idea if Deadpool can hear the sirens from this far away, but the merc just nods silently and watches Peter aim his webshooter, calm and amused. Peter rolls his shoulders to get rid of the prickling sensation on his neck and shoots the web, turning away. "I'll, uh, see you next week?"
"I'll see you then, baby," Deadpool agrees in that same low, amused tone and good fucking lord. Peter steps off the ledge.
He only kinda wishes he'd keep falling.