Peter Parker's patience was wearing thinner than a dollar store web cartridge. He crouched behind a dusty curtain in a rundown apartment building overlooking a warehouse, his camera poised on a tripod. The dim yellow glow of a streetlamp outside painted the scene in stark shadows, making it perfect for surveillance.

Unfortunately, his partner for this mission, Wade Wilson—Deadpool—was not exactly the quiet, disciplined type.

"Are wedoneyet?" Wade whined, leaning precariously on the windowsill. His red-and-black mask crinkled with exaggerated boredom, and he was doodling something obscene on the fogged-up glass with his finger. "This is so boring. Can't we just kick in the door and shoot everyone? It's what Hydra would do if they were in our shoes."

Peter closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. "For the hundredth time, no, Wade. We're gathering intel. That's the whole point of a stakeout. Quietly. Without getting caught."

"Oh, right. The whole boring part before the fun part." Wade flipped upside down, hanging off the windowsill with his legs hooked over it. "This is why nobody likes working with you, Spidey. You're no fun."

Peter clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the windowsill. "I'mplentyfun. Just not when lives are on the line, and you're acting like a circus clown."

"Circus clowns don't kill people, people." Wade poked his head back up and wiggled his eyebrows, as if he'd just made the most compelling argument in the history of crime-fighting.

Peter bit back the string of expletives dancing on the tip of his tongue and focused on the warehouse. Through the lens, he could see a group of Hydra agents unloading crates from an unmarked truck. His Spider-Sense tingled faintly—nothing immediate, but the situation was sketchy, to say the least.

"Hydra doesn't usually move shipments at night," Peter murmured, more to himself than Wade. "What's in those crates?"

"Maybe it's the good stuff," Wade said, now balancing a throwing knife on his finger. "Exotic cheeses. Black-market Beanie Babies. Oooh, maybe it's those big inflatable tube guys that dance in front of car dealerships."

Peter glared at him. "Can you take this seriously for two seconds?"

"Serious is my middle name!" Wade said, puffing out his chest.

"No, it's not," Peter muttered.

Wade leaned in, his mask inches from Peter's. "You don't know that. My birth certificate might say Wade 'Serious' Wilson. You've never seen it. Can't prove me wrong."

Peter groaned and turned back to the camera, adjusting the focus as the Hydra agents hauled out a particularly large crate marked with ominous biohazard symbols. "If you do that again, I'll throw you out that fucking window, you—"

Wade straightened up suddenly and looked down.

Peter blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Checking how high the drop is," Wade replied, tilting his head thoughtfully. "See if it's worth it."

Peter stared at him in disbelief. "You're impossible."

"Hey, it's all about the experience," Wade said, shrugging. "If you throw me out, at least I can say I've tried it."

Peter facepalmed. "How are you like this?"

"It's a gift," Wade replied, spinning the knife in his hand like a baton.

Peter turned back to the warehouse. Through the lens, he spotted a man in a lab coat supervising the unloading process. He zoomed in and snapped a few pictures, hoping to analyze them later.

"That's Dr. Helwig," Peter whispered, recognizing the scientist from a Hydra dossier he'd read. "He's a biochemical engineer. If he's here, they're definitely up to something big."

"Cool story, bro," Wade said. "Want me to shoot him from here? I've got a sniper rifle in my bag."

"No!" Peter hissed, louder than he intended. He immediately crouched lower, glancing at the warehouse to make sure nobody heard.

"Fine," Wade pouted, flopping onto his back on the dusty floor. "You're no fun, and your snacks suck." He grabbed a half-eaten granola bar from Peter's bag and sniffed it suspiciously. "This isn't even the good kind of granola. Where's the chocolate?"

Peter ignored him, concentrating on the camera. A few Hydra guards began patrolling the perimeter, their shadows stretching across the concrete. His Spider-Sense prickled a bit stronger. Something wasn't right.

"Wade, shut up for a second," Peter said, lowering the camera.

"I wasn't even talking," Wade muttered, chewing loudly on the granola bar.

Peter held up a hand to silence him, his eyes narrowing. He scanned the area with his enhanced vision, focusing on the truck. The guards seemed unusually tense, like they were expecting trouble.

"Something's wrong," Peter said quietly. "They're on edge. It's like they know—"

Before he could finish, Wade's phone blared an obnoxious ringtone: the chorus of "Never Gonna Give You Up."

Peter whipped around, his eyes wide with horror. "Are you kidding me?!"

"Relax," Wade said, answering the call. "It's probably just Domino."

"Wade—"

"Hey, babe," Wade said into the phone. "What's up? No, I'm on a mission. Yeah, with Spider-Man. I know, right? He's so uptight."

Peter lunged, yanking the phone out of Wade's hand and hanging up. "Youabsolutemoron! Now they're definitely going to hear us!"

As if on cue, the Hydra guards turned toward the apartment building, their flashlights sweeping the windows.

"Nice going, Deadpool," Peter said through gritted teeth, slinging his camera into his bag.

"Hey, you're the one who freaked out and yelled," Wade said defensively, pulling out his katanas. "But don't worry. I've got this."

Peter sighed. "We're supposed to bestealthy,remember?"

Wade smirked. "Stealth is just a fancy word for 'delayed explosions.'"

Before Peter could protest, Wade leapt out of the window, executing a perfect flip before landing in the middle of the Hydra guards.

"Hey, boys!" Wade shouted, twirling his katanas like a marching band leader. "Hope you brought your A-game!"

"Wade!" Peter shouted after him, webbing down to the street below. "We're not supposed to engage yet!"

"Too late!" Wade sang, slicing through the first guard's weapon with a flourish.

Peter groaned and swung into action, using his webs to disarm the remaining guards before they could raise the alarm. "This was supposed to bequiet!"

"Quiet is boring!" Wade shouted, deflecting a bullet with his katana. "This is way more fun!"

As the fight descended into chaos, Peter couldn't help but wonder if he should've just thrown Wade out of the window in the first place.

When the dust settled and the Hydra guards were webbed up and unconscious, Peter leaned against a lamppost, panting. "You're the worst partner ever."

"Aw, come on," Wade said, clapping Peter on the back. "Admit it. We make a great team."

Peter glared at him. "If by 'great team,' you mean a complete disaster, then sure."

"Potato, po-tah-to," Wade said, sheathing his katanas.

Peter sighed, shaking his head. "Let's just finish this before you make things worse."

Wade grinned. "That's the spirit!"

And as they headed toward the warehouse, Peter silently vowed never to team up with Deadpool again.