Peter Parker should've known better.

When Wade Wilson invited him to an upscale art exhibit at the prestigious Metropolitan Museum, Peter had suspected something was off. Wade wasn't exactly the "fine art" type. But, against his better judgment, Peter had agreed to go. After all, Wade had been oddly enthusiastic about it, and it wasn't like Peter had plans for the evening.

Now, as he stood in the middle of the bustling exhibit hall, surrounded by wealthy patrons sipping champagne, Peter couldn't shake the feeling that he'd made a mistake.

"This is... not your scene," Peter said, glancing at Wade, who was dressed in an ill-fitting tuxedo and a bright red tie that clashed horribly with everything around them.

"Nonsense!" Wade declared, adjusting his tie with a grin. "I'm cultured. Refined. Like a fine wine, or aged cheese."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You smell like neither of those things."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Wade said, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing server and tossing back the contents like it was a shot.

Peter sighed, looking around at the exhibit. The centerpiece of the night was a collection of rare and valuable art pieces on loan from private collectors. The crowd was abuzz about one piece in particular:The Starlight Reverie,a breathtaking painting rumored to be worth millions.

"Wow," Peter said, gazing at the painting. Its swirling colors and intricate details seemed almost alive, as though the stars within it were actually twinkling. "That's incredible."

Wade leaned in close, his voice low. "It's also tonight's target."

Peter froze. "What?"

Wade's grin widened. "Oh, did I not mention that part? My bad. We're here to steal that bad boy."

Peter turned to him, his voice a harsh whisper. "Wade! You dragged me here to commitgrand larceny?"

"Technically, I dragged you here for moral support while I commit grand larceny," Wade corrected, winking. "Relax, Spidey. It's not like you're the one doing the stealing."

Peter stared at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Why would you even want to steal a painting? You're not an art guy!"

"True," Wade admitted. "But some very rich and very shady client is willing to pay me a fortune for it. And hey, who am I to turn down a payday?"

"You're impossible," Peter muttered, running a hand through his hair. "You can't just—"

"Shh," Wade said, pressing a finger to Peter's lips. "I can, and I will. Now, keep looking adorable and act like you belong here. I've got a masterpiece to snatch."

Before Peter could protest, Wade disappeared into the crowd.

Peter spent the next twenty minutes trying to find Wade, his anxiety mounting with every passing second. He couldn't believe he'd been roped into this.

His Spider-Sense tingled faintly, but it wasn't the usual life-threatening warning—just the familiar buzz of Wade's antics brewing trouble.

Finally, Peter spotted him near the painting, chatting with a pair of well-dressed patrons. Wade was gesturing animatedly, clearly spinning some wild story that had them both laughing.

Peter marched over, grabbing Wade by the arm. "Can we talk?Now?"

Wade turned, grinning. "Excuse me, folks. Duty calls." He let Peter drag him to a quieter corner of the exhibit.

"This is insane," Peter hissed. "You can't just steal the centerpiece of the exhibit. There are cameras everywhere!"

"Already looped the feed," Wade said casually. "Thank you, YouTube tutorials."

"And what about the guards?"

"Distracted. Someone might've slipped them complimentary gift cards to a taco truck outside."

Peter groaned, rubbing his temples. "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"Yup," Wade said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now, be a good pal and keep the crowd occupied while I make my move."

"What? No!" Peter protested.

"Come on, Petey," Wade said, his tone surprisingly earnest. "You're my lucky charm. I can't do this without you."

Peter sighed. He knew Wade well enough to recognize when he was serious—sort of. "Fine. But if this goes south, I'm not bailing you out."

"Deal!" Wade said, giving Peter a thumbs-up.

Peter tried to blend into the crowd, doing his best to look inconspicuous as Wade began his heist.

Wade moved with surprising grace, slipping past the velvet ropes and approachingThe Starlight Reveriewith an almost reverent expression. He produced a small, high-tech tool from his pocket, working quickly to disable the alarm on the display case.

Peter's Spider-Sense flared briefly, but he forced himself to stay calm. If Wade had a plan, he needed to trust him—reluctantly.

Just as Wade lifted the painting from its stand, the room erupted into chaos.

An alarm blared, and security guards stormed in from every entrance. Wade froze for a split second, then turned to Peter with a sheepish grin.

"Okay,maybeI didn't loop the cameras after all," Wade said, tucking the painting under his arm. "Time for Plan B!"

"What's Plan B?" Peter yelled over the noise.

"Run!" Wade shouted, bolting for the nearest exit.

Peter groaned but followed, weaving through the panicked crowd as the guards gave chase.

Wade led Peter through the maze-like hallways of the museum, ducking under velvet ropes and dodging security guards at every turn.

"Why am I helping you?" Peter muttered as they rounded a corner.

"Because you love me," Wade called back, grinning.

They burst through a side door and into an alleyway, where Wade had conveniently stashed a motorcycle.

"Hop on, Spidey!" Wade said, revving the engine.

Peter hesitated. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Don't think—just feel!" Wade said, patting the seat behind him.

With a resigned sigh, Peter climbed on, wrapping his arms around Wade as they sped off into the night.

They didn't stop until they reached Wade's apartment, where Wade triumphantly placed the painting on his couch.

"Home sweet home," Wade said, grinning.

Peter paced the room, his nerves still frazzled. "That was reckless, Wade. You could've been caught!"

"But I wasn't," Wade said, flopping onto the couch next to the painting. "And now, we're rich."

"You're rich," Peter corrected. "I'm just the idiot who let you drag me into this."

Wade leaned back, smirking. "You're not an idiot, Pete. You're my moral compass. My voice of reason. My adorable sidekick."

Peter glared at him. "I'm none of those things."

"Sure you are," Wade said, pulling Peter down onto the couch beside him. "And admit it—you had fun."

Peter opened his mouth to argue, but the truth was... he kind of had.

"Fine," Peter muttered. "But next time, tell me what I'm signing up for."

"No promises," Wade said, winking.

Peter sighed, leaning back against the couch. With Wade, nothing was ever predictable—but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.