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.
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