The rain drizzled softly over New York City as Peter Parker walked home from his evening patrol, his mask tucked into his backpack. The streets glistened under the glow of the streetlights, and the air smelled of damp concrete and autumn leaves.

As he turned the corner to his apartment building, a faint sound caught his attention—a soft, pitiful meowing coming from a nearby alley.

Peter hesitated, glancing toward the sound. It was late, and he was exhausted, but he couldn't just ignore it. Sighing, he ducked into the alley, following the sound until he spotted a small, shivering ball of fur huddled beside a dumpster.

"Hey, little guy," Peter said softly, crouching down.

The kitten was tiny, its gray fur matted from the rain. It looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, its meow barely audible.

Peter's heart clenched. He couldn't just leave it here.

"You're coming with me," he said, scooping the kitten up carefully.

It meowed again, louder this time, and Peter felt a small surge of relief. At least it had some fight in it.

Back in his apartment, Peter dried the kitten off with a towel and set it on the counter. He rummaged through his fridge, pulling out a small dish of milk and setting it down in front of the tiny creature.

The kitten lapped at it eagerly, its little tail twitching.

"Alright, buddy," Peter said, sitting across from it, "here's the deal. You can crash here tonight, but I can't keep you. My landlord has a strict no-pets policy, and trust me, he's already looking for an excuse to kick me out."

The kitten didn't seem to care, too focused on the milk to pay Peter any attention.

Peter sighed. "Guess that's fair. I'll figure something out tomorrow."

But tomorrow came, and the kitten was still there, staring at him with those big, pleading eyes.

Peter tried to take it to the local shelter, but they were overcapacity and unable to take in any more animals. He thought about asking Aunt May, but her building also had a no-pets policy.

By the end of the day, Peter was out of options.

That's when the idea hit him.

Wade.

Peter knocked on Wade Wilson's apartment door, the kitten tucked inside his hoodie. He felt ridiculous even considering this plan, but he was desperate.

The door swung open to reveal Wade, dressed in his full Deadpool suit but wearing a pink apron over it that readKiss the Cook.

"Spidey!" Wade exclaimed, grinning. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit? Don't tell me—did you finally decide to elope with me?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Wade, I need a favor."

"Ooh, I love favors," Wade said, stepping aside to let Peter in. "Come in, come in. What's up?"

Peter stepped into the chaos that was Wade's apartment. The walls were adorned with mismatched decorations, from samurai swords to a framed picture of a taco. The place smelled faintly of burnt chimichangas.

"I, uh…" Peter hesitated, unzipping his hoodie and revealing the kitten nestled inside.

Wade's eyes widened. "Oh. My. God. Is that a kitten?"

"Yes," Peter said quickly. "And before you say anything, no, it's not mine. I found it in an alley, and I can't keep it because my building doesn't allow pets."

Wade tilted his head, his expression somewhere between amused and curious. "So, you brought it here?"

"I thought maybe you could, you know, take care of it," Peter said, his voice a little desperate.

Wade gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "You trust me with a tiny, helpless creature? Peter Parker, I'm touched. Truly."

"Wade, I'm serious," Peter said, setting the kitten on the counter. "I don't have anywhere else to take it."

Wade crouched down to the kitten's level, studying it intently. The kitten blinked at him, then let out a tiny meow.

"Well, aren't you just the cutest little thing," Wade cooed, holding out a gloved hand. The kitten sniffed it cautiously before rubbing its head against his fingers.

Wade grinned. "I'm in."

Peter blinked. "Wait, really? Just like that?"

"Of course," Wade said, scooping up the kitten and cradling it in his arms. "How could I say no to this adorable little furball? Besides, I've always wanted a sidekick."

"It's not a sidekick," Peter said, exasperated.

"Fine," Wade said, waving him off. "A roommate, then. What's its name?"

"I… I didn't name it," Peter admitted.

Wade gasped again, even louder this time. "You mean this sweet baby doesn't have a name? That's criminal, Parker. Criminal!"

Peter groaned. "Alright, what would you name it?"

Wade looked thoughtful for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "Sir Snugglesworth. Or maybe Lady Whiskerface. No, wait—Chimichanga Jr.!"

"Wade—"

"Fine," Wade said, pouting. "We'll go with something boring, like Mittens or Fluffy."

Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know what? You name it whatever you want. It's your pet now."

Wade grinned triumphantly. "Chimichanga Jr. it is!"

Peter shook his head, but he couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips.

Over the next few days, Peter checked in on the kitten—sorry,Chimichanga Jr.—regularly. To his surprise, Wade was actually doing a decent job taking care of it.

The kitten had a cozy little bed in the corner of Wade's apartment, a bowl of food and water, and even a tiny toy mouse Wade had bought on a whim.

"She's thriving," Wade said proudly one evening as Peter stopped by. "I think I was born to be a cat dad."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You realize it's not a chimichanga, right? You can't just—"

"Relax, Web-Head," Wade interrupted, holding up a hand. "Chimichanga Jr. and I are besties now. Watch this."

He pulled a laser pointer out of his pocket and aimed it at the floor. The kitten immediately pounced, chasing the red dot around with surprising agility.

Peter laughed despite himself. "Okay, I'll admit—that's pretty cute."

Wade smirked. "Told you. I've got this whole pet ownership thing down."

Peter leaned against the counter, watching as the kitten batted at the laser pointer. For a moment, he allowed himself to relax, the chaos of his double life fading into the background.

"You know," Peter said after a while, "I didn't think this would work, but… thanks, Wade. For taking her in."

Wade waved him off. "Anything for you, Parker. And hey, now I've got someone to talk to when you're off doing your Spidey stuff."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Right. Because I'm sure the kitten has riveting conversations."

"Hey," Wade said, grinning. "She listens better than you do."

Peter laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, I'm out of here. Just… don't do anything crazy, okay?"

"No promises," Wade called as Peter headed for the door.

As Peter stepped out into the cool night air, he couldn't help but smile. For all Wade's chaos, there was something oddly reassuring about knowing the kitten was in good hands—well, mostly good.

"Chimichanga Jr.," Peter muttered to himself, shaking his head as he swung away.