Peter Parker stared at the vending machine, his forehead resting against the cool glass. There it was: a chocolate bar, tantalizingly close but frustratingly stuck against the edge of the spiral that was supposed to deliver it. He'd watched it fall almost all the way before jerking to a halt at the last second, as if the universe had decided he didn't deserve this small victory.

It had been one of those days. His backpack was torn from a rough swing across the city. His phone battery had died before he could check his assignments. Aunt May had texted him a grocery list he couldn't afford to fill, and this chocolate bar—the last thing he could scrape together enough change to buy—was now taunting him.

"Come on," Peter muttered, giving the machine a halfhearted shake. "You're all I've got left."

The bar didn't budge.

He sighed, planting his hands on his hips and glaring at the machine as if it might suddenly grow a conscience. The hallway of the community center was otherwise empty, his frustration echoing faintly off the walls. He was so focused on his plight that he didn't notice the approaching footsteps until it was too late.

"Well, well," a familiar voice drawled. "Looks like someone's in a bit of a snack-related crisis."

Peter groaned inwardly, already recognizing the tone. He turned to find Wade Wilson leaning casually against the vending machine, his usual cocky grin plastered across his scarred face.

"Wade," Peter said, deadpan. "What are you doing here?"

"Charity event," Wade said, gesturing vaguely toward the nearby gym. "But more importantly, why are you caressing this vending machine like it insulted your Aunt May's cooking?"

Peter rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "My chocolate bar's stuck. I used my last dollar, and now it's just... sitting there."

Wade peered at the vending machine, squinting at the offending candy. "Ah, the classic spiral betrayal. Tragic, really."

"I don't need commentary," Peter muttered, giving the machine another shake. "I need chocolate."

Wade clucked his tongue, stepping closer. "No, no, no. You're going about this all wrong, Spidey. You gotta finesse it."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Finesse?"

"Observe," Wade said, rolling up the sleeves of his red hoodie like he was about to perform surgery. "This is where I shine."

Before Peter could object, Wade leaned down and rammed his shoulder into the vending machine. The entire thing rattled violently, and for a horrifying moment, Peter thought it might tip over. He reached out instinctively, ready to web the machine in place if needed, but Wade stepped back with a flourish.

"See? Finesse!" Wade said, gesturing dramatically.

The chocolate bar hadn't moved.

Peter gave him a flat look. "That's your idea of finesse?"

"Okay, tough crowd," Wade said, undeterred. "Plan B."

"Plan B?" Peter echoed, already dreading whatever Wade had in mind.

Wade crouched down, gripping the bottom of the machine. "I lift, you grab. Ready?"

"Wade, no!" Peter hissed, glancing nervously down the hallway. "You can't just lift a vending machine! What if someone sees?"

"Oh, relax," Wade said, waving him off. "Nobody's watching. Except maybe the vending machine repair guy, who's probably laughing his butt off in the security office."

Before Peter could argue further, Wade grunted and heaved. The vending machine tilted forward slightly, the chocolate bar wobbling in its place.

"Quick, grab it!" Wade urged.

Peter reached for the candy, but just as his fingers brushed the wrapper, Wade's grip slipped, and the machine thudded back into place. The chocolate bar didn't budge.

Peter sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "This is ridiculous."

"Ridiculously entertaining," Wade corrected, straightening up. "But you're right. Time for Plan C."

"There's a Plan C?" Peter asked, his tone halfway between exasperation and amusement.

"Of course," Wade said, digging into his pocket. He pulled out a crumpled dollar bill and smoothed it out theatrically. "Watch and learn."

Wade fed the dollar into the machine and selected the same candy bar. Peter watched skeptically as the spiral rotated, pushing the stuck bar forward until it finally tumbled into the tray below.

Wade grinned, reaching down to retrieve the prize. "Ladies and gentlemen, success!"

He turned, holding the candy bar out to Peter like an offering. "For you, my sweet-toothed friend."

Peter hesitated, his annoyance softening. "You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did," Wade said, his grin widening. "I couldn't let my favorite bug starve. Take it."

Peter took the candy bar, the warmth of Wade's gesture catching him off guard. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Wade said, leaning casually against the machine again. "Though, I should warn you—there's a price."

Peter groaned. "Of course there is. What do you want?"

"A date," Wade said, his tone light but his eyes serious.

Peter blinked, the candy bar halfway to his mouth. "A... date?"

"Yup," Wade said, crossing his arms. "You, me, dinner, maybe a movie. Or we could skip the movie and do something really wild, like build a pillow fort. Your call."

Peter stared at him, his brain scrambling to catch up. "Are you serious?"

"As serious as I am about not letting vending machines win," Wade said, smirking. "So, what do you say?"

Peter felt his cheeks flush. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss. Wade's confidence was both infuriating and... kind of endearing.

"I'll think about it," Peter said finally, taking a bite of the chocolate bar.

Wade grinned, clearly undeterred. "Fair enough. I'll be here, ready to battle any vending machines—or, you know, take you out for a nice dinner. Whatever comes first."

Peter rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. "Thanks, Wade."

"Anytime, Spidey," Wade said, pushing off the vending machine and heading toward the exit. He paused at the door, glancing back. "Oh, and Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Enjoy the chocolate. You've earned it."

With that, Wade disappeared down the hallway, leaving Peter standing by the vending machine, his heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the sugar rush.

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