| MCU and Marvel comics | This is somewhat of a side blog | I ship almost everything in existence, I'm not picky. | I do drabbles, incorrect quotes, headcanons, etc.
I know what happens when Deadpool lives while Spiderman dies, I know. I know he ends up dying as well eventually, I know he grieves, but in the meantime?
Every Deadpool has a Spider-Man, yes? So when he does pass, Wade gets a new spiderman. His hair isn't brown and coily, it's straight and blonde. He's not snarky, but he's compassionate. He doesn't snort when he laughs, his face doesn't go red with laughter. He doesn't accidentally break mugs. He doesn't start singing musicals, swinging from rooftops. He's not Peter. But he's spiderman.
Then he passes. Maybe he meets a new Spidey. Maybe his name isn't Peter, but it's Harold. They're different, yes, but they both sound a bit geeky. He's not a baby-boy, but maybe he could be a different nickname. He doesn't have a dimple in his left cheek when he smirks, he doesn't randomly do backflips, he doesn't like pickles, he doesn't like tacos, he likes pizza. He's not Peter.
He passes as well. Now he meets someone exactly like Peter. His hair is brown and coily, he complains about it, he likes pineapple on pizza, he pours milk first when making cereal, he drinks exactly four cups of coffee a day, etc. But something's off. He's not his Peter, he's just Peter.
Wade's doomed to search for Peter in every single Spider-Man. He's doomed to look for his soul. He has photos of Peter that he Cherishes. They're fading, but he just gets a new one. He has Peter's clothes, worn in, doesn't smell like him anymore, now it just smells like Wade. He has that friendship necklace he bought for them, the other half still around Peter's neck. He visits his grave, even though it's crumbling and taken over by moss.
No one is Peter, and Wade will forevermore be doomed to yearn for him, to search for him in everyone he sees. When he finally does die, maybe the earth implodes, or maybe it was a nuclear blast, he sighs one last time, relief seeping from every pore on him. "See you soon, Baby-boy," he mumbles. The name, even though he's gone decades without saying it, slips off his tongue. It's familiar. A chuckle dies on his tongue as a warmth envelopes him. Maybe it's death, but it feels like Peter. It finally feels like his Peter.
My dad is like the number #1 Spideypool shipper. I asked him what happens when spiderman dies, y'know? I mean, Deadpool can't die, but Peter can, and he went into a whole ass fucking essay. I cried, ngl. This man regularly jokes about spiderman and Deadpool flirting, regularly brings it up, etc. My middle aged dad, a stereotypical suburban man, is totally a spideypool shipper in hiding. I've sent him fucking fanart of it and he sends a thumbs up. I gotta introduce him to Wattpad, ff.net, and AO3. 😔
Literally made me cry today by telling me about them, he needs to be a fic writer. Angst, hurt/comfort, spiderman needs a hug, Deadpool needs a hug, and then that fuckers set, man.
Peter Parker says the most wild, freaky, and/or concerning things and Johnny is just there.
"Honestly, this is the straw that broke the camals back, I'm gonna just fucking kill myself now—" "Peter, you dropped a spoon, I'll get you another one, what the fuck— WE'VE TALKED ABOUT THIS."
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"Hey, do you remember when I had that crush on your dad for a couple months?" "Ugh, don't remind me, I swear." "Yeah, okay, well do you think it was A, a normal little crush, B, caused by my father's early death, or C, that one babysitter I had, you know the one?" "... We- we really need to discuss therapy options, my fucking goodness, Pete."
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"If we were mantis, I'd let you eat my remains after sex." "I— excuse you? I'm literally inside of you—" "Okay, just thought it'd be nice to know!"
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"Johnny! What flavour towel would I be?!" "Orange, next question." "If we were dogs, would you let me follow you and smell you?" ".. The fuck did you just say to me?"
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"Would you still love me if I was a worm?" "Peter—" "YES OR NO?!" "Yes, I'd have a little terrarium and I'd feed you leaves and dirt or whatever worms eat."
Peter is poor, that's a fact. He found his costume in the garbage, getting a new backpack was a burden, and based on the weird stares he got, the subway wasn't screaming that he was privileged either. Tony is and always has been rich. Regardless of how terrible his father was, cold and calculating, at least he was stable. He didn't realize just how big their cultural gap was. He finds Peter at night in the kitchen. He's not eating, not drinking, not cooking or baking, just looking. His brown eyes dart around the cupboards, checking to see all the food there. He turned on the water, let it run for a few seconds, and turned it off. After that night, Tony kept the kitchen completely full. Peter still snuck down at night to check, but it wasn't as anxious and tense as before.
One time, Peter got hurt in the workshop. He cursed quietly, wrapping his hand in a rag. He wasn't in too much danger, but he definitely needed stitches. "Shit, you alright?" Tony grabbed his hand, poking and twisting, trying to estimate the damage. "Yeah, that's gonna need a few stitches. C'mon, let's get you to the hospital. There's one right down the road." "No! Do you know how much money that'd be, Mr. Stark? I'm fine, I can just do it at home." Tony was horrified at the thought of Peter sewing up his own torn flesh. "No! No, not happening! I'll pay—" "I can't ask you to do that—" "You're not asking, I'm offering! I'll make the money back by the time we get to the damn car."
Sometimes, Tony takes him to high-class places. Maybe for dinner, maybe for an errand. Peter's looking over his shoulder constantly, gripping his bag tight, hiding his hood. "Chill, kid, this isn't—" This isn't the rundowns. But Peter was from the rundowns. His fists clenched subconsciously at the thought of Peter getting mugged, someone trying to rob or shoot at him, steal his backpack that had a million holes in it, etc. "Just.. chill, okay?" Tony doesn't notice the looks Peter gets in those places, but Peter does. Peter notices the way they all think he's going to steal something. He notices the tight lips and smiles that don't reach their eyes. He notices the way they look afraid to touch him, like he carries a disease. "Can we.. Can I stay home next time?" Peter asks, his voice quiet. "Why? Don't wanna hang out with your," he clears his throat obnoxiously. "Bes' fwend?" Peter laughs, shaking his head. "Never do that again." The next time they go, he notices. Tony notices the looks, the tight lips and smiles that don't reach their eyes, the whispers and clutched pearls, and he isn't afraid to call them out for it.
Peter comes into the lab, eyes red, hands sweaty. "Mr. Stark?" he asks through a broken voice. "Yes, kid? What— Woah, what happened?" Peter fidgets with the envelope in his hand, sniffling. He takes a deep breath. The simple motion does nothing to nullify the shaky voice. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to, I swear. I'm not taking advantage of you or- or anything," Peter mumbles. Tony already knows what he's going to ask. Although, he didn't think the reason why would be so daunting. "I'll pay you back as soon as I can, but May can't pick up another shift, and I can't—" "Kid, calm down. What do you need money for and how much?" "Rent. I know it's a lot of money, so you don't have to, but I—" Tony cut him off. He stood, retrieving his wallet. He "And what? Let you and your aunt get evicted? No, it's fine. Just tell me how much it is." ".. Two thousand- five hundred." Tony nodded, trying to come off casual, not wanting to add guilt or pressure Peter at all. "Two... Seven... Ah! There we go, here." Peter bowed his head gratefully, thanking him. "And underoos?" Peter hummed. "Don't be afraid to ask for something like that again, alright? I don't want either of you on the streets, starving, or some other horror, okay?" "Okay, Mr. Stark. Thank you."
Do you think that when Peter got blipped, and he collapsed towards Tony, and Tony hugged him, but then, when He set him down on the rock, he wanted to keep being held? Do you think he wanted to ask to be held in his final seconds, but he was in too much pain to say that?
Peter, who doesn't often get praised, physical contact, or undivided attention. It wasn't on purpose, and he has people in his corner, it was just uncommon. May would praise him, but she didn't usually give him her full attention. Sne was too busy worrying about bills or tired from her job. MJ was MJ, what do you expect? And well, Ned was his best friend. It'd be a bit awkward. Although, Ned was often the closest he got to that.
Tony looms over his shoulder as he fills out his math sheet. His eyes track Peter's answers, which frankly, makes Peter uncomfortable.
"Wow kid, that's- that's pretty impressive." Peter can't help but smile and get all giddy.
"It's nothing, Mr. Star—" "No, seriously, that's amazing. I've never seen someone use this strategy, it's great. You even tweaked the formula, that's great." Even though it sounds stupid or selfish, all Peter wants is for Tony to elaborate, to explain in detail all of the ways he's smart, who craves the validation he's getting. Tony ruffles his hair, patting his shoulder as well. Peter feels as though he's flying. His mentor moves across from him, quickly yet smoothly, swan-like.
"Explain how you figured out how to change the formula." "Don't you already know how, Mr. Stark?" "No, not really," Tony says, rendering Peter confused. "I always just used a couple different rules and formulas, I never thought to combine them in such a way. I'm interested, go on." Peter feels as though the connection is fragile, like Tony will strip this away within seconds. He rushes to explain, stuttering through his explanation. Tony's gaze never leaves Peter's except to look down at the paper.
Tony picked up pretty quick that Peter relished in attention, compliments, any kind of physical contact, even though Peter wouldn't admit it. He makes it a habit, a mental checklist. 'At least two forms of contact a day, a compliment, and genuine interest in something he likes for at least five minutes.'
Peter: I just grew up faster than other kids, y'know? I had to help take care of May, and bills, and stuff, so I guess I just didn't need a stupid stuffed toy, lolol. :)
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