Peter Parker stood in the overgrown front yard, arms crossed, staring at the sagging house before him. Its peeling paint, cracked windows, and a roof that looked one storm away from collapsing made it clear this place hadn't seen love—or even mild interest—in decades.

"Well," he said, adjusting his glasses and forcing optimism into his voice, "it has potential."

Beside him, Wade Wilson (a.k.a. Deadpool, part-time mercenary and full-time chaos enthusiast) tilted his head to one side. "Potential forwhat? A haunted house attraction? A horror movie set? Because if we're going for creepy vibes, this place is killing it."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You agreed to this. It's a great deal, and we can fix it up together. Isn't that what you wanted? A project to 'channel your creative destruction'?"

Wade nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, but I thought you meant something fun, like blowing up an old barn or building a flamethrower out of toasters. Not..." He gestured at the dilapidated house. "...this."

Peter gave him a withering look. "You're the one who said, 'How hard can it be?' when I showed you the listing."

"And I stand by that," Wade said, pulling out a notepad and scribbling furiously. "Step one: Fix house. Step two: Profit. Step three: Build a rooftop hot tub for the chimichangas. Easy peasy."

Peter sighed. This was going to be a long project.

Their first task was to inspect the house and assess what needed fixing.

"This is the foundation of our future!" Peter declared as he opened the creaky front door. It promptly fell off its hinges with a loudthud.

"Solid start," Wade said, giving Peter a thumbs-up.

Inside, the air was thick with dust, and the floorboards creaked ominously under their feet. Wade poked a hole in the wall with his finger and peered inside. "Hey, there's a whole family of raccoons living in here. Should we charge them rent?"

Peter grabbed Wade's hand and pulled him away from the hole. "Focus. We need to make a list of repairs."

After an hour of exploring, the list had grown alarmingly long:

Patch the holes in the walls (and evict the raccoons).

Replace the roof.

Fix the plumbing (currently a series of rusted pipes held together by duct tape and hope).

Rewire the entire house (half the outlets sparked when touched).

Repaint the exterior.

"Okay," Peter said, looking at the list with a mix of determination and dread. "It's a lot, but we can handle it. Right?"

"Absolutely," Wade said, nodding sagely. "And by 'we,' I assume you mean 'you,' because I plan to supervise while sipping margaritas."

Peter groaned. "You're helping, Wade. No excuses."

"Fine," Wade said, pulling out a bright pink hard hat he'd somehow acquired. "Let's fix this baby up!"

The next day, they started with the walls. Peter planned to carefully remove the damaged drywall and replace it, but Wade had other ideas.

"Demo day!" Wade yelled, holding a sledgehammer above his head like it was Excalibur.

"Wait, Wade—" Peter began, but it was too late. Wade swung the sledgehammer with glee, smashing through the wall. Dust and debris exploded everywhere, and a raccoon bolted out, chittering angrily.

"Did you see that?" Wade said, grinning. "That wasawesome!"

"Wade, we're supposed to befixingthe house, not destroying it!" Peter snapped.

"This is fixing," Wade argued, swinging the hammer again. "You can't rebuild without breaking a few walls. Or twenty."

Peter sighed, grabbing a crowbar and joining in. "Fine. But can we at least aim for controlled demolition?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Wade replied, smashing another section of drywall.

By the end of the day, the walls were in worse shape than when they'd started, and Peter's nerves were frayed. Wade, however, was thrilled.

"We're killing it, Spidey!" he said, wiping drywall dust off his mask. "This place is gonna be a palace!"

Peter muttered something about needing a vacation.

Fixing the roof turned out to be even more of a disaster.

Peter climbed the ladder carefully, tool belt strapped to his waist. "Alright, Wade, we need to replace the shingles and patch up the leaks. Simple enough."

Wade, already on the roof, was holding a nail gun and aiming it like a cowboy in an old Western. "I'm on it, boss!"

"Wade, wait—"

BAM BAM BAM!

Wade fired nails randomly into the roof, missing the shingles entirely.

"Stop! You're going to puncture the—"

Before Peter could finish, a loudcrackechoed through the air, and the section of roof Wade was standing on gave way.

"Uh-oh," Wade said, just before he disappeared through the hole.

Peter rushed down the ladder and into the house, where he found Wade lying on a pile of broken wood and insulation, somehow unharmed.

"Wade," Peter said, his voice trembling with barely contained frustration, "what are you doing?"

"Testing the structural integrity," Wade replied, giving him a thumbs-up. "It failed."

Peter threw his hands in the air. "Why did I think this was a good idea?"

"Because you secretly love my chaotic energy," Wade said, brushing insulation off his shoulders.

Peter sighed. He was starting to regret ever buying this house.

Despite the setbacks, they slowly began making progress. Peter learned how to repair plumbing by watching tutorials on his tablet, while Wade turned painting into an art form—literally.

"Is that... a mural of tacos?" Peter asked, staring at the living room wall.

"You're welcome," Wade said, stepping back to admire his work.

"It's supposed to be beige!" Peter groaned.

"Beige is boring," Wade said. "Tacos are life."

Somehow, Peter didn't strangle him.

After months of hard work (and countless arguments), the house was finally livable. The roof no longer leaked, the plumbing worked, and the walls were solid—though Wade's taco mural remained.

They stood in the front yard, admiring their handiwork.

"You know," Peter said, "it's not perfect, but we did it. We turned this place into a home."

Wade slung an arm around Peter's shoulders. "Damn right we did. Look at us—two guys, one house, zero explosions. Well, only a few explosions. We're basically heroes."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You're impossible."

"And you love me for it," Wade said with a grin.

Peter didn't respond, but he couldn't help smiling. Despite everything, they'd built something together—a home.

And, against all odds, it actually felt like one.