The first time Peter Parker noticed the wind behaving strangely, he was perched on the top of the Empire State Building.
He'd just finished a routine patrol, the city calm below him. The breeze tugged at his suit, cool and gentle, as usual. But then it shifted—stronger, insistent, pushing him westward as if it had a purpose of its own.
Peter frowned, standing and looking out toward the direction the wind urged him to go. It wasn't unusual for people to talk about the wind like it had a mind of its own, but this felt… different. Intimate. Like a whisper meant only for him.
He'd heard stories growing up about how the wind guided soulmates. Aunt May used to say it was the universe's way of nudging two people closer together. Peter had always brushed it off as a nice fairy tale, something people told themselves when love seemed out of reach.
But now, standing here with the wind pulling him toward something—or someone—he wasn't so sure.
"Alright," Peter muttered to himself, shooting a web toward a nearby building. "Let's see where this goes."
Meanwhile, on the other side of Manhattan, Wade Wilson lounged on a rooftop, humming a tune that had long since lost its melody. The breeze was strong tonight, ruffling his mask and pulling insistently at his sleeves.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Wade muttered, sitting up and glaring at the sky. "Windy destiny or whatever. You've been bugging me all week. I'm going!"
He grabbed his katanas, sheathed them with a dramatic flourish, and followed the gusts that tugged at him like an impatient friend. Wade didn't put much stock in soulmate myths, but even he had to admit it was weird how the wind always seemed to push him in one direction.
The first few times it happened, he'd ignored it, convinced it was just nature being annoying. But then he'd heard it.
A voice.
Soft, fleeting, like an echo carried on the wind. A laugh. A sigh. A single word.
"Parker."
Peter landed on a rooftop near Hell's Kitchen, the wind swirling around him. He was tired, his muscles aching from the night's patrol, but the strange pull wouldn't let him rest.
The wind had grown stronger as he neared this part of the city, whipping against him like an invisible hand urging him forward.
"What am I even looking for?" Peter muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
Before he could contemplate further, a familiar voice cut through the night.
"Spidey! Is that you?"
Peter froze, his senses prickling. He turned toward the voice to see Wade Wilson—Deadpool—standing on a neighboring rooftop, one hand waving enthusiastically while the other clutched a chimichanga.
"Of course it's you," Wade said, leaping across the gap between buildings and landing with a graceless thud. "Because why wouldn't the universe decide to throw us together on a random Tuesday night?"
"Wade," Peter said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "What are you doing here?"
"Following the wind, obviously," Wade replied, gesturing dramatically to the sky. "It's been bugging me for days. Keeps dragging me in your direction."
Peter blinked. "Wait. The wind's been… pulling you too?"
Wade nodded, taking a bite of his chimichanga. "Yup. Didn't really believe in all that soulmate junk, but here we are. You feel it too, don't you?"
Peter hesitated, the wind tugging at him more insistently now, as if trying to close the space between them. "I… yeah. I feel it."
"Well, that settles it," Wade said, clapping his hands together. "We're soulmates. Congrats, Spidey. You get to spend eternity with this handsome face."
Peter groaned, running a hand down his mask. "Wade, this is serious."
"Oh, I'm deadly serious," Wade replied, leaning closer. "Think about it. Me and you, fighting crime, bantering, having cute little rooftop picnics. It's fate, Parker."
Peter shook his head, but he couldn't deny the pull he felt. The wind swirled around them, stronger than ever, as if trying to draw them closer.
"Wade," Peter said carefully, "have you ever… felt this before? Like the wind was guiding you to someone?"
Wade tilted his head, uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. "No," he said finally. "Not like this."
Peter swallowed hard, his mind racing. He didn't know what to make of this—of Wade, of the wind, of the overwhelming sensation that something big was happening.
"What do we do now?" Peter asked, more to himself than to Wade.
Wade grinned. "Well, first we let the wind do its thing. Then we figure out how to make this whole soulmate gig work. I call dibs on being the little spoon."
Peter sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "You're impossible."
"And yet," Wade said, leaning closer, "you're still here."
The wind picked up, circling around them like a whirlwind. Peter could feel its energy, its purpose, and for the first time, he stopped resisting.
"Yeah," Peter said softly. "I am."
Over the next few weeks, Peter and Wade found themselves drawn together more often than not. The wind seemed to conspire against them, pushing them into the same alleys, the same rooftops, the same late-night diners.
At first, Peter resisted. The idea of Wade Wilson being his soulmate felt absurd, like some cosmic joke. But the more time they spent together, the harder it became to deny the connection.
Wade, for his part, embraced the whole thing with open arms—and a never-ending stream of ridiculous declarations.
"You feel that, Spidey?" Wade said one night as they stood on a rooftop, the wind whipping around them. "That's the wind of destiny, baby. Blowing us straight into each other's arms."
Peter rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a laugh.
As the weeks turned into months, Peter found himself wondering if maybe the wind knew what it was doing after all. For all Wade's chaos, there was a warmth to him—a loyalty, a kindness that Peter hadn't expected.
And slowly but surely, Peter realized that the wind wasn't just pulling him toward Wade. It was pulling him toward something he'd been missing.
Something he didn't want to let go of.
"So," Wade said one evening, as they sat on a fire escape sharing a plate of fries. "What do you think? Soulmates, huh? Pretty wild."
Peter smiled, glancing at him. "Yeah. Pretty wild."
The wind blew softly around them, carrying their laughter into the night.