The shrill wail of the fire alarm pierced the air, jolting Peter Parker out of his post-shower haze. Steam clung to the bathroom mirror as water dripped from his hair, and for a moment, he stood there in confusion, wondering if the noise was some malfunction of his spider-sense.

Then he heard the panicked shouts of his neighbors echoing in the hallway.

"Oh, come on," Peter muttered, grabbing a towel and hastily wrapping it around his waist. The fire alarm continued its deafening screech, leaving him no choice but to abandon his cozy apartment and step out into the brisk chaos of the emergency evacuation.

Barefoot and damp, Peter joined the gaggle of neighbors huddled on the sidewalk outside his building. Most of them were dressed for the chilly night, clutching jackets and blankets. Peter, on the other hand, stood shivering in nothing but a towel, his arms crossed over his chest.

This was not how he'd envisioned spending his evening.

"Rough night?" came a familiar, overly cheerful voice from his right.

Peter turned, his irritation bubbling over when he saw Wade Wilson—Deadpool—standing a few feet away, fully dressed in his red-and-black suit, his mask slightly askew. Wade was holding a half-eaten chimichanga in one hand and a fire extinguisher in the other, looking far too pleased with himself.

"You've got to be kidding me," Peter said, glaring.

Wade grinned, taking a bite of his chimichanga. "Oh, hey, Spidey! Fancy seeing you here. Didn't expect to catch you so… unwebbed."

Peter rolled his eyes, his grip tightening on the towel around his waist. "Wade, what are you doing here? And why does this feel like your fault?"

Wade feigned innocence, placing a hand over his heart. "Me? Cause a fire alarm? Never. I'm a law-abiding citizen. Well, mostly."

Peter wasn't buying it. "Wade," he said, his voice low and threatening, "what did you do?"

Wade hesitated for a split second before sighing dramatically. "Fine, fine. You caught me, Sherlock. I was on a little, uh…assignmentin your building. A very professional, highly confidential mercenary assignment, might I add."

Peter groaned. "Let me guess. You pulled the fire alarm to distract someone."

"Bingo!" Wade said, pointing the fire extinguisher at him like it was a prize. "I needed to create a little chaos, and boy, did it work. But hey, you're out here alive and well, so you're welcome."

"Alive and well?" Peter repeated, incredulous. He gestured to himself, his towel slipping slightly before he caught it. "Wade, I'm standing outside in the middle of the street, soaking wet, in nothing but a towel!"

"Yeah," Wade said, nodding approvingly. "And you're pulling it off, by the way. Ten out of ten. Very Greek statue vibes."

Peter groaned, running a hand through his damp hair. "This is all your fault. You couldn't have waited until I wasn'tin the shower?"

"Hey, I didn't know you'd be mid-scrub," Wade said, shrugging. "I thought you were out doing your Spidey thing. How was I supposed to know you'd be sudsing up your perfect spider abs?"

Peter felt his face heat, both from embarrassment and frustration. "Can you not?"

"Not what?" Wade asked, feigning innocence. "Compliment you? Sorry, Parker, but if you don't want people noticing your physique, maybe don't look like a Calvin Klein ad come to life."

Peter groaned again, pulling his towel tighter. "Wade, I'm this close to throwing you into traffic."

"You wouldn't," Wade said confidently.

Peter glared. "Don't test me."

Before Wade could respond, one of Peter's elderly neighbors shuffled over, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"Oh, Peter," Mrs. Jenkins said, her tone disapproving. "You're going to catch your death out here like that." She turned to Wade. "You, young man—give him your jacket."

Wade looked between Peter and Mrs. Jenkins, then held up his hands. "Lady, I would, but I don't think it'd fit him. I mean, look at those shoulders."

Mrs. Jenkins scowled. "Then give him your mask at least. That towel isn't covering much."

Peter flushed a deep shade of red, glaring at Wade as the mercenary stifled a laugh.

"Don't worry, Mrs," Wade said, stepping closer to Peter. "I'll keep him warm with my sparkling personality."

Peter gritted his teeth. "Wade, I swear—"

Before he could finish, the fire department arrived, sirens blaring as firefighters began assessing the situation. One of them approached the building's landlord, who was gesturing wildly and shouting about pranksters.

Peter gave Wade a pointed look. "You're going to fix this."

"Fix what?" Wade said, gesturing to the scene. "The fire department's already here, and everyone's safe. My work here is done."

"Safe?" Peter hissed. "I'm freezing, Wade! And you're standing there with a chimichanga like this is a picnic."

"Want a bite?" Wade offered, holding it out.

Peter smacked it away, the chimichanga hitting the pavement with a sad splat.

"Hey!" Wade exclaimed, clutching his chest as if wounded. "That was perfectly good Mexican cuisine!"

Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I cannot believe this is my life."

As the firefighters began clearing the building, one of them announced that it was safe to return inside. Peter didn't wait—he turned on his heel and marched toward the entrance, towel swaying dangerously with each step.

"Peter, wait!" Wade called, jogging after him.

Peter stopped, spinning around to face him. "What, Wade? What could you possibly want now?"

Wade hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "I just wanted to say… you're welcome."

"For what?" Peter asked, incredulous.

"For livening up your evening," Wade said with a grin. "Admit it, Parker. Your night was boring before I showed up."

Peter stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. He turned and started heading back inside.

"Hate to see you leave but love to watch you go." Wade hollered at his back.

Peter didn't respond, but as he climbed the stairs to his apartment, he couldn't help but chuckle under his breath.

Wade Wilson was a walking disaster, and Peter was pretty sure his life would be a lot easier without him in it.

But then again, easier didn't necessarily mean better.