Peter Parker adjusted his mask, glancing around the bustling convention floor with a mixture of excitement and unease. He wasn't used to big crowds, but Superhero Con was a different story. Here, surrounded by cosplayers, fans, and countless booths selling superhero merch, he could blend in. Nobody would guess he was the real Spider-Man, and he liked it that way.

He wandered past a display of action figures, pausing to admire a detailed Spider-Man model that was doing a backflip. Someone bumped into him, and Peter turned to apologize—only to stop short.

Standing a few feet away, holding a massive burrito and chatting animatedly with a group of Deadpool cosplayers, was Wade Wilson.

Peter's first instinct was to slip into the crowd unnoticed. Wade wasn't wearing his mask—just his regular red-and-black suit, which he filled out in a way that screamed "authentic." And because itwasauthentic, Peter couldn't imagine how this wouldn't devolve into chaos if Wade noticed him.

But then Wade looked up, his eyes locking onto Peter's.

"Spidey!" Wade shouted, waving so enthusiastically that some of his burrito filling splattered onto the floor.

Peter froze, contemplating his options. He could run. He could web-swing out of the building. Or he could—

"Get over here!" Wade called, bounding toward him with an energy that made Peter wince.

Too late.

"Hey, Pete," Wade said when he reached him, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "Nice costume. Looks just like the real thing. Too bad you don't have my dashing good looks to sell it."

Peter sighed behind his mask. "Wade. Why are you here?"

"Uh, to bask in the glory of my many adoring fans?" Wade said, gesturing around the room. "Also, merch discounts. You'd be amazed how many vendors are willing to barter when you're carrying swords."

Peter glanced at the katana strapped to Wade's back. "I'm amazed they even let you in with those."

Wade grinned. "Charm works wonders. Now, what about you? Here to nerd out, or just looking for someme time?"

"Just... enjoying the convention," Peter said vaguely, avoiding Wade's gaze.

"Good," Wade said, slinging an arm around Peter's shoulders. "Then we can enjoy it together! Let's go find some snacks. I hear there's a churro truck in the west wing."

"Wade, I don't—"

Peter didn't get a chance to finish before someone approached them. A young woman in a Spider-Man T-shirt, her phone already out, beamed at them.

"Can I get a picture with you two?" she asked.

Peter hesitated, but Wade didn't. "Of course, little lady!" Wade said, striking a dramatic pose and pulling Peter closer. "Go on, Spidey. Give the people what they want."

Peter sighed but gave a quick thumbs-up as the girl snapped a photo. "Thanks!" she said before running off.

It didn't end there.

Word spread quickly that a "Spider-Man" and "Deadpool" pair were wandering the convention together. Soon, more fans approached, each with increasingly wild photo requests.

"Can you do a dramatic pose? Like you're fighting?"

"Spider-Man, can you hang upside down and Deadpool pretend to kiss you?"

"Deadpool, can you hold Spider-Man like a princess?"

Peter groaned but played along, figuring it was harmless fun. Wade, on the other hand, leaned into every request with gusto, hamming it up like he was born for this.

At one point, Wade swept Peter off his feet, cradling him like a bride while striking a victorious pose. "This is the greatest day of my life," Wade said loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Wade," Peter hissed, his face burning beneath his mask. "Put me down."

"Not until they get the shot!" Wade said, winking at the growing crowd of photographers.

The day turned into a blur of photo ops, autographs (Wade signed everything from napkins to a foam sword), and impromptu skits that Wade insisted on performing for their "audience."

Somehow, Peter found himself laughing more often than not. Wade's energy was infectious, and as much as Peter tried to pretend he was annoyed, he couldn't deny he was having fun.

By late afternoon, they found themselves at a quiet corner of the convention, sitting on the floor with a pile of snacks between them. Wade had ditched the burrito for a hotdog, while Peter nursed a soda he wasn't entirely sure he wanted.

"That was amazing," Wade said, leaning back against the wall. "We're a hit, Spidey. We should start charging for photos."

Peter shook his head. "It's not supposed to be about that. People just... like seeing us together."

"Because we're an iconic duo," Wade said, wagging his hotdog for emphasis. "Like peanut butter and jelly. Or chimichangas and salsa."

Peter gave him a look. "That last one sounds terrible."

"Blasphemy," Wade said, taking a big bite of his hotdog. "But seriously, you're a natural at this. I haven't seen you smile this much in ages."

Peter's lips twitched, and he took a sip of his drink to hide the warmth spreading across his face. "It's... nice. To just be here, I mean. Without the pressure."

Wade's expression softened. "See? That's what I've been saying. You deserve a break, Pete. A chance to have some fun for once."

Peter looked down at his soda, feeling an unexpected lump in his throat. "Thanks, Wade."

"Anytime, Spidey," Wade said, his tone unusually sincere. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he added, "But next time, we're wearing matching costumes. Couple goals."

Peter laughed, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you love me," Wade said, winking.

Peter didn't answer, but the smile on his face said enough.