Peter Parker had lived his entire life in grayscale.

The muted tones of the world were normal for him—he couldn't even imagine what color was supposed to look like. Aunt May described it as "vibrant" or "bright," but those words meant nothing to Peter. All he knew was that, like everyone else, he wouldn't see color until he met his soulmate.

Some people found it romantic, the idea of having their world burst into color the moment they found the person they were destined to love. Peter wasn't so sure. It sounded like a lot of pressure.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder. Would it be instant? Would it be overwhelming? What if he never found them at all?

The thought of living his whole life in gray made Peter's heart ache, but he tried not to dwell on it. He had other things to worry about—like keeping New York City safe and passing his midterms.

Wade Wilson didn't give a crap about color.

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

Before he became Deadpool, Wade had cared. He'd stared at the dull world around him and dreamed of seeing it light up, dreamed of meeting the one person who could bring color into his life. But after the experiments that scarred him and turned him into an unkillable mercenary, he'd given up on the idea.

Whoever his soulmate was, they deserved better than him.

So, Wade stopped hoping. He embraced the gray, focusing on his work, his terrible jokes, and his love of chimichangas. He told himself that color wasn't worth the risk—that he didn't need it, didn't want it.

But sometimes, late at night, when the world was quiet, he caught himself wondering: what if?

Peter swung across the city, his mind racing. He'd been tracking a group of arms dealers for weeks, and tonight was finally the night to take them down. The warehouse near the docks was dark, quiet, and perfect for an ambush.

As he crept along the rafters, Peter's spider-sense tingled faintly—a warning. Before he could react, an explosion rocked the building, sending him sprawling.

"Ta-daaa!" a voice called through the smoke. "Who ordered the Deadpool special?"

Peter groaned, pulling himself up to see a red-and-black figure standing in the middle of the chaos.

"Deadpool?" Peter said, disbelief lacing his voice.

"The one and only!" Wade replied, spinning around with theatrical flair. "Don't worry, Spidey, I've got this covered."

Peter frowned. "This was supposed to be my thing."

"Well, now it'sourthing," Wade said cheerfully, slicing through a nearby thug with his katana.

Peter sighed, leaping down to join the fray. He didn't trust Wade, but he couldn't just leave, either. Together, they dismantled the operation, taking down the thugs with a mix of precision and chaos.

As the dust settled, Peter turned to Wade, ready to deliver a lecture about interfering in his patrols. But the moment their eyes met, the world changed.

It started as a spark—an almost imperceptible flicker of something new.

Then, like a wave crashing over them, color erupted.

Peter staggered, staring in awe as the world around him transformed. The dull gray of the warehouse gave way to vivid hues—deep reds, bright yellows, rich blues. Wade's suit, once a flat gray-and-black blur, was now a striking combination of crimson and ebony.

"You're red," Peter said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wade blinked, then looked down at his hands, his eyes wide. "Holy crap," he muttered. "This is...color."

They stood in stunned silence, the realization sinking in.

"You're my soulmate," Peter said, his heart pounding.

Wade's mask tilted as he stared at Peter, his usual grin softening. "Guess I am."

The next few days were surreal.

For Peter, seeing color was both exhilarating and overwhelming. He spent hours wandering the city, marveling at the vibrancy of the world around him. The blue of the sky, the green of Central Park, the warm gold of Aunt May's hair—everything felt new, alive.

But even as he adjusted to his colorful reality, Peter couldn't stop thinking about Wade.

"Deadpool," he muttered one night, sitting on his bed. "Of all the people..."

It wasn't that Peter disliked Wade, exactly. But Wade was...chaos. He was unpredictable, loud, and dangerous. How could someone like that be Peter's soulmate?

Wade, meanwhile, was having the time of his life.

"Red! Yellow! Green!" he shouted, pointing at random objects in his apartment. "That's what those colors are, right?"

Despite his excitement, there was a part of Wade that couldn't quite believe it. He'd spent so long telling himself he didn't deserve a soulmate, and now, here was Spider-Man—a genuine hero—connected to him.

It felt too good to be true.

Despite their differences, Peter and Wade began to spend more time together. The bond between them was undeniable, and as much as Peter tried to resist, he found himself drawn to Wade's chaotic energy.

Wade, for his part, was fascinated by Peter's sense of responsibility and quiet determination.

"You're like a cinnamon roll," Wade said one night as they sat on a rooftop. "Sweet, wholesome, and probably bad for my health."

Peter rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips.

The connection between them was strong, but the dangers of their lives loomed large. Peter knew that if either of them died, the color would vanish. The thought terrified him more than he cared to admit.

One night, during a particularly dangerous mission, that fear became a reality.

Peter and Wade were ambushed by a group of HYDRA agents. The fight was brutal, and despite their best efforts, they were outnumbered.

Peter's spider-sense flared as he turned to see an agent aiming a weapon at Wade.

"Wade!" he shouted, leaping in front of the blast.

The impact sent Peter crashing to the ground, pain radiating through his body.

"Spidey!" Wade yelled, dropping to his knees beside him.

Peter's vision blurred, the vibrant colors of the world fading to gray.

"No," Wade whispered, shaking his head. "Don't do this, Parker."

Peter reached out, his hand brushing against Wade's. "You brought color into my life," he murmured. "Don't...lose it."

And then he was gone.

Wade sat on the rooftop, staring at the gray world around him.

The colors had vanished the moment Peter died, leaving everything dull and lifeless. Wade's chest ached, his usual bravado stripped away.

Wade clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "I'm not losing you, Spidey," he said, his voice trembling. "Not like this."

He stood, determination burning in his chest. If there was even a chance of bringing Peter back, he would find it.

Because a world without color wasn't a world worth living in.