Wade impatiently taps the tune of “Itsy Bitsy Spider” against the trigger of his gun while he lies in wait. It feels like he has been out here on patrol for ages, though the last he checked only a few minutes have really passed.
It’s a typical August afternoon in New York City, which means the weather is about as muggy and noxious as the space between Mephisto’s asscrack. It’s stifling enough to make Wade consider an outfit change; if he remembers correctly--and let’s be honest, that’s a rarity nowadays--he has a bikini or two in his wardrobe that would not only be cooler but more fitting with his current mission.
But too late for that now. His target suddenly comes into view, and not wanting to miss his chance, Wade carefully takes aim and fires.
“Auugh!!”
Wade lets out a whoop at the sight of Peter, now dripping from head to toe from the force of Wade’s Super Soaker. And no, that is not an euphemism. “Down came the rain and washed the spider out! Got you, Baby Bo--”
His jubilation is swiftly cut short when a webbed water balloon is slung right into his face.
***
Later, as evidence of their water battle evaporates from the roof of their apartment building, the two of them are sprawled out next to each other, drenched and exhausted. Again, no double entendre here, much to Wade’s dismay.
“...Go on,” Wade says, nudging Peter in his side. “You can say it.”
“Say what?” Peter asks, giving what Wade affectionately refers to as his ‘Clueless Bambi’ look.
“‘Wow Wade, this was an amazing idea!!’’ Wade coos, batting his non-existent eyelashes with a mock swoon. “‘Thank you, oh thank you, for helping me remove the stick from my a--mud.’”
Peter snorts and knocks his shoulder against Wade’s. “Smooth save.”
“I’m waiting~”
“Fine.” Peter sighs with a dramatic roll of his eyes, but his lips are still twitching to form a grin. “As far as most of your ideas go, this one wasn’t half-bad. Happy now?”
“Hold that thought!” Wade turns onto his side and brushes some of Peter’s dampened bangs out the way before pressing their foreheads together, their lips hovering mere centimeters apart. “I just thought of another great idea…”
Oh my goodness @cinderlock I am so sorry this took so long. When I was assigned as a pinch hitter for @spideypoolexchange I had the hardest time trying to think of an idea for fluff fic. (Hell, I don’t even know if this is fluffy. I TRIED.)
Written for Kylie aka @goddammitdylanobrien for @spideypoolexchange part 2. I hope you enjoy it :)
You wished for a non explicit coffee shop au without sad or gory stuff, and I’m here to deliver. Not sure if it hits the AU as it should, though, just Spidey finally quitting his job in Daily Bugle and taking one in a lovely coffee shop with his best friends Gwen and MJ, much less stressful. Or is it... XD (don’t take it too seriously)
He did it.
He truly did it.
Peter inhaled and let the air out with a ‘whoosh’. The feeling of accomplishment and freedom washed over him as a tidal wave. No more screaming, no more stress, no more long hours, no more begging for paychecks- The tidal wave of contentment retreated suddenly and left Peter spluttering, cold and with a pit in his stomach. No more paychecks.
No more paychecks.
He just quit his job on a whim and without a backup plan. He’s a fucking idiot!
That happened five weeks ago. The first week of unemployment was pure anguish, second week frantic panic, and the third desperate resignation and steeling himself to bite the bullet and go beg for his old job back. But Peter could imagine Jameson humiliate him in crystal clarity, and he just couldn’t. Just no.
Then luckily Gwen had had enough of his whining and helped him get a job in the coffee shop near their campus, where she and MJ worked since the beginning of their fall semester. And since it was ‘the most layback place ever’ as she emphasized quite often before, there were no problems to fit his new work schedule with his already quite extensive study and vigilante schedule. Which he still hadn’t had any idea how it happened. He suspected Gwen and her frighteningly competent self, as always. But all in all it meant he had enough money to study, to rent a room with a real bed, and eat more than just a ramen (he still ate it for at least half of the month, though), which was no small accomplishment. Especially with his extra curricular activities, that gave him precisely zero income and usually cost him more than he let himself think about.
It also meant he had absolutely no social or love life, which was sad and pathetic in the eyes of everyone mundane, who didn’t know how he swings it (and probably even in the eyes of those few that did), but overall necessary sacrifice for the greater good. Except for Deadpool’s vigorous flirting every time their paths crossed, which was fairly often these last few months. It almost stopped made him so profoundly uncomfortable. Almost. But they had some kind of tentative camaraderie going on these days, so it wasn’t all bad.
To be quite honest, he was just grateful, there was no additional stress in his life in form of meeting J. J. Jameson face to face on daily basis, because he had quite enough of that in the last few years, thank you kindly.
He probably shouldn’t have rejoice quite so soon, though. Because every time, his life stops suck so much, universe tries to rectify that colossal overlook, by shoving some more crap on his head.
Case to point, there’s been, at this particular moment, a mercenary standing in the middle of their coffee shop. Correction, not a mercenary. The mercenary. Deadpool in his all armored glory - guns, katanas, the whole shebang. His head tilted slightly to the left, as if he was listening to some particularly interesting argument, while staring right at Peter.
Or at the board behind his back with their menu. Right. Paranoid much, Parker? This hadn’t had to be necessarily a catastrophic scenario in motion. Deadpool has no idea, who Spider-man really is, so this was just really really horrible coincidence, or something. Peter was probably a puppy killer in his past life and this was just truly bad karma. Also, his spidey sense would have warned him in any case of danger, and since nothing like that was happening, he could clearly stay calm. But than again, it never really managed to calm him, that his special ability to sense danger seemed to ignore the unstable merc, or deemed him safe. Peter wasn’t sure which of the two possibilities was more unnerving.
He realised, he’s been staring at the merc almost as intently, as the merc’s been staring back, and quickly averted his eyes, just to notice, his hands started to act on their own volition, fixing his apron and shirt as if the way he looked mattered. What the hell? Peter balled them into fists and hid then under the bar, hoping no one noticed.
The merc hadn’t have a clue who Peter was, and even if he had, state of his clothes was irrelevant. Right? Right.
“Good morning, what can I get you, today?” Peter asked automatically the moment Deadpool came close enough. He felt his glasses slipping down his nose and pushed them back up without a thought. He realized his mistake the moment Deadpool leered behind his mask.
“Well, hello there. Aren’t you a cute one. Also not screaming and running in opposite direction at the sight, kudos for that.” Deadpool leaned a little closer to him, and Peter was attacked full frontal with smell of gunpowder, leather, and tutti frutti bubble gum, along with traces of blood, sweat, and something that were probably Pamela’s tacos from the stand two blocks from here not so long ago. If there were some possibility that it was someone else in Deadpool’s costume, the voice and mix of smells typical for the mercenary made it clear enough it’s the one and only merc with a Mouth. Also the flirting.
Peter was used to be flirted at by Deadpool while in the costume, this on the other hand threw him out of the loop like a frikin’ catapult.
With all defences down, he spluttered, “wha- what? I mean- what? I-”
Peter could hear MJ’s muffled giggling from where she stood just few feets away. Deadpool’s leer visibly softened under his mask, but it somehow didn’t make it any less suggestive, bordering dirty.
“Damn right, he’s adorable,” he almost scoffed, as if answering to someone’s observation. Which he probably was, it was not the first time he did something like that in Peter’s presence. It did not help Peter get a grip in the slightest, though. He was still searching for something to say that would gain him some control over the situation, but Deadpool was, as per usual, already running three miles in the opposite direction. “That’s gonna be a double vanilla latté with extra everything and make it sweet, baby boy. Wait, no, not baby boy, that’s spoken for, we gotta give you some other nickname. But you do look really young, are you even legal, I’m not hitting at a jail bait, right? We do have some standards after all. Not many, but some.”
Peter tried and failed to catch everything that flew from merc’s mouth, but there was just no way, he could keep his head above the water in that stream of tattered thoughts.
“Oh, he’s legal, alright,” MJ snickered, completely ignoring Peter’s horrified look and Deadpool’s… well, everything, that should throw her off. It really should, but hanging around Spider-man for several years obviously broke her survival instincts or something. “Unattached, too.”
“MJ!” Peter most definitely did not squeak. Then turned little stiffly to Deadpool, who was chuckling. “One latté coming right up,” and promptly tried to cover himself behind the coffee machine. But MJ hip checked him out of her way and took his intended place.
“Oh, I have this one, Peter.” She proclaimed sweetly, completely ignoring Peter’s deeply betrayed expression, twirling a marker between her fingers. “What’s the name?”
“Deadpool,” came an automatic response, before Peter could even attempt to stop himself. He did manage to not facepalm, but that too was a near thing. He knew what he’s gonna see, even before he turned his eyes to the merc.
He. Was. Glowing.
“We have a fan?! Ou em gee, guys did you hear that?!”
There was nothing in the whole multiverse that could stop the blush quickly warming Peter’s face.
“I am not- I mean- I just know- Damn! They confuse you with… em, Spider-man a lot, okay? So,” he tried, but it was not like, anyone was listening to him. Juuust great. His life sucked so hard sometimes.
MJ gave him a raised eyebrow, while perfectly controlling rest of her face, even if her eyes were saying loud and clear she’s laughing at him almost as much as that time with marshmallows and Easy Cheese. Which they are not talking about. Ever. There is an oath and everything. Never ever.
Then she turned to Deadpool. “How can they confuse the two of you? I mean, you are like three times of his size.”
“Hey!” Peter protested indignantly, while trying to not being too obvious about his wounded pride. He is not that lanky. He’s perfectly okay with his body.
“Also, Spider-man does not use guns. Or swords.”
“Meh,” Deadpool waved his hand, not looking particularly annoyed with the collective intelligence, or the lack of it, of the city population. “They don’t really care. And the newspapers are always dicks to him, so that people have no problem believing shit about Spidey. They are dumb like that. No idea why he’s so keen on protecting them so hard.”
“Because it’s right!” Peter spits immediately, and seriously, what the hell is wrong with him? This is so not the right way how to protect your secret identity.
Deadpool just shrugs. “Well, he is a hero here. But we are much more fun,” he grinned little maniacally and winked at MJ. “How much for the coffee?”
MJ told him and Deadpool handed over what was probably thrice as much, without as much as a blink, while breathing in the smell of his extremely sweet coffee and sighing contently. “Mmmhm, just like mommy’s. I like this place, I think I’m gonna be back,” he threw frighteningly obvious glance in Peter’s direction. “See ya, Merida. Bye-bye, Petey-pie.” And with that he walked out of the shop, throwing a slutry wave over his shoulder, before the door shut behind him with a soft cling.
There was a beat of silence.
“So that’s the Deadpool, you’ve been complaining about hitting on you during patrols the last few months?” MJ turned to him, obviously amused by everything that just happened. “And he has no idea, who you are out of your… favorite outfit?” Peter closed his eyes, headache beginning to creep on him as sure as death. He knew exactly what’s coming. “Seems to me like he’s into you in all forms and shapes,” she grinned as the evil person she was. No one should be fooled by her bright smile and sweet eyes. She was absolutely and completely evil. The only reason why he’s not curled on floor screaming in agony is because Gwen was not here to assist her.
“I hate you. So much,” he sighed resigned, because really, he had no chance against this level of evil mastermind. If all his foes were this talented, he would be dead sixty times over.
“I know, honey. But don’t worry, it’s all going to be fine in about a minute or so.”
“What do you mean?” Peter asked, not reassured in the slightest.
There was a sound of vibrations and a ping announcing he had a new text. The feeling of dread filled his belly, as he reached for it. And sure as hell, there was a text from strange number:
my costume is red, ur apron is blue, u cute ass hell, I’m gonna devour u. DP
Peter stared at it with mouth hanging half open, before MJ pushed it up with her perfectly manicured finger.
“I wrote him your number on the cup, duh, dummy. Don’t worry, you can thank me later.” And with that she left him stand there with his phone announcing another text:
This is a little delayed, but it’s for the @spideypoolexchange, for @genderfluidkylo! You requested Peter and Wade watching Star Wars together? Which is superb, but I can never get this panel out of my head. I hope this outdated meme will suffice.
@heterochromatic-desu @spideypoolexchange I apologise greatly for the delay :/ I’m truly sorry. If you want the paper version just message me and I’d send it to you.
the story was so cuuuute!!! I always got read to from books just like that when i was younger, it was so lovely and nostalgic. I squealed aloud at the "the third time he met her, he left the mask at home," I just!!! thats so cute, I love wade feeling comfortable and at ease, thank you so much ;u;; (i cant wait for part two thank you so much )
Oh yay! I’m glad you like it! ♡ Part 2 is already up. There’s a link if you click the “2” in “Part 1 of 2,” or you can just head over to my blog and it’s right at the top. ^_^
it’s a little late, but happy @spideypoolexchange day to @weirdo-fireball!
I wrote you a little one-shot under the cut! I hope you like it!!
The ‘Morning After’ Shirt - by babybigsoprano
“Is that my shirt?” Wade yawned, walking into the living room.
Peter turned from his position on the couch to look at his shirtless boyfriend.
“Good morning to you, too,” he smirked before receiving a peck on the lips. “Yes, this is your shirt. I thought it would be romantic or something.”
“But that’s my ‘Morning After’ shirt.” Wade pouted as he walked around the back of the couch and rested his head on Peter’s shoulder.
Peter blushed as he remembered their first time together the night before.
“So it has a title? Just how many times have you worn this shirt?” came the sly response.
“I- I don’t…Well I haven’t worn it since I met you, if that puts you at ease.
“No, I know. I was just giving you a hard time.”
“Yeah you were,” Wade breathed into Peter’s ear.
Peter laughed and pushed the other man’s face away from his.
“Here, you dirty old man,” he said, sitting up to take Wade’s shirt off himself. “Put your shirt on.”
“No, no. It looks good on you. I’ll go find myself another one.” Wade disappeared into the bedroom again and Peter went back to watching whatever show he was watching before Wade woke up.
Wade emerged from the bedroom once more, walking over in front of the tv when Peter didn’t notice him.
“Whaddya think?”
“WADE!”
“What?”
“That’s my Captain America shirt!”
“Yeah, and?”
“And it’s way too small for you! You’re stretching it out,” Peter whined. Peter’s eyes glared at the other man’s before raking his eyes down his body that was being compressed in Peter’s shirt. He could see every outline of every muscle on Wade’s abdomen, some of the deeper scars showing through as well. The sleeves were a completely different story; Wade’s arms seemed to be bursting through them, one slight movement and they’d rip the shirt apart.
“Wade, I swear if you rip my shirt…”
“Why don’t you come over here and take it off me then?”
They smirked at each other for a moment before Wade’s expression turned to a pleading one.
“No, seriously can you help me get it off? I can’t.”
Peter gave Wade a half annoyed, half endearing look that only Peter could make as he stood up and walked over to his boyfriend.
“Lift your arms.”
Wade did as he was told and raised his arms, never breaking eye contact with the shorter man. He felt Peter’s hands drag down his chest to the hem of his shirt. Four fingers on each hand found their way under Wade’s shirt as Peter slowly pulled it up with his thumbs. His fingers trailed along the scars on Wade’s chest, moving gently along the curve of his abdomen. When he got to Wade’s arms, Peter tugged the tight sleeves and pulled the shirt up toward his forearms andover his head, letting it fall to the floor with a slight rustle. Without hesitation, Wade pulled Peter in for a gentle, loving kiss before he quickly pulled away and picked up the shirt.
“Keep the shirt, sweet cheeks. I like the idea of you wearing it, since you’re gonna be the last person I ever sleep with for the rest of my life,” Wade said as he walked toward the bedroom to put the shirt back.
“Oh yeah?” Peter giggled. “And who says you’ll be mine?”
Wade, with a hand to his chest, puffed out a surprised gasp.
“Baby boy, you wound me.”
“Ohh,” Peter fake whined, “I’m only joking sweet cheeks.” Peter walked over to where Wade was standing and slapped his ass. Wade grabbed him before he could run away and pulled him into himself.
“Wade!” Peter laughed as he tried to wiggle out of his boyfriend’s strong arms.
“Oh no, you’re in for it now!”
They were both laughing as Wade walked himself and Peter over to the bed before picking up the latter and depositing him in the middle of it.
“You should wear my clothes more often.”
“You should wear less clothes more often.”
“Haha, I don’t know about that, Petey. I’m not exactly a looker.”
“I think you’re perfect.”
“I love you, Peter.”
“I love you too, Wade.”
Wade leaned down and kissed his boyfriend’s neck. The younger man hummed happily and pawed at his back.
“As much as I love seeing you wear it,” Wade breathed in Peter’s ear, reaching down to his waist, “let’s get that shirt off of you.”
