An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Ever since "the incident" Peter hasn't had the heart to wear the suit. (The multi-million dollar bane of his existence.) Just like he hasn't had the heart to paint, not since May's death. So he keeps to himself, focusing on classwork at MIT, and holding his friend group together after his break up with MJ. Spider-Man would have to wait. And he did wait, right next to the paints on the floor, out of sight, out of mind.
For the most part.
But when Deadpool strolls into his city, something sparks in Peter that he hasn't felt since he was Spider-Man. The consuming need to defend those who can't defend themselves.
Even if Peter could get the suit on, how is he supposed to protect the city, while trying to protect himself from getting hurt again? (And why can't he stop thinking about what Deadpool looks like under the mask?)
Can Deadpool coax Spider-Man out of hiding, without bursting into warmth around him?
---
Swing by and leave a comment telling me what you think!!! <3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Additional Tags: Humor, Deadpool being Deadpool, BAMF Peter Parker
Series: Part 4 of Prompts found on Tumblr
Summary:
Peter makes a lasting first impression on Weasel and the rest of the patrons at the bar.
if you haven’t read pt 1 GO DO THAT ! alright i hope you enjoy
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After a brief nap, and basically eating everything in the fridge, I put on my suit and sneak out the window. I do basic patrolling, like helping people cross the streets, or help carry bags to someone’s car. Of course, something goes wrong real quick.
I walk into a tunnel to continue the full circle I always take when I’m patrolling. I get my spidey tingles and my head instantly turn to the left. I hear clunking and yelling. I sprint to the area that I sensed. I see a gang with guns, and that oh-so familiar red suit. Wade’s swinging his katana to try and take a hit on these guys, but they’re shooting their SMGs relentlessly.
I sneak up on them and start to web them. I rip their SMGs out of their hands and smash it into the other side of the wall. Wade slashes into one of the guys’ arm, and the guy falls down, screaming. There are three guys still standing, and I kick one to the floor and web him.
The next thing I know is a terrible shooting pain near my hip. I cry out and fall to the ground.
-----
[Wade Wilson]
“Peter!” I scream. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he got shot. I slam my katana in the guy’s throat that shot him. He falls down weakly. The other guy looks scared and I motion him to run. He does. I run to Peter and shake him. He doesn’t respond. “Peter, please,” I whimper. This is my fault. This is all my fucking fault.
But, fortunately, Peter groans and rolls over to me. I pick him up bridal style and run out of the scene. My place shouldn’t be hard to run to, so might as well. I sprint to my house, and I finally get there.
It’s an apartment, so I have to sneak in. I walk over to my room and laying Peter down. I don’t want to take off his mask, because I know I’d kill someone if anyone did that to me, but I can see blood seep through. I hesitantly take of his mask and--
Damn. Is he a fucking angel? Because he looks like one. His brown curls are plastered to his face from sweat. His eyelashes are really long and his lips are slightly parted. Thank god, he only scraped the side of his head. I run to the bathroom and shuffle through the closet and find the first aid kit. I get back to Peter and open the rubbing alcohol to clean his wound. I press the cotton ball into the wound and bandage it.
I go to working on the gunshot wound and peel his suit off until I get to his waist. Goddamn, he was fit as fuck. I feel my face get a little hot, but I convince myself that I don’t like this twink. The gunshot went completely through his hip, which was good so I didn’t have to try and fish out the bullet. I clean it with rubbing alcohol, and Peter starts to groan and whimper. My poor baby boy. It must burn like hell. He’s still unconscious, so I wrap it up with another bandage.
I figured I’d take off his suit to change him into more comfortable clothes that I have. ‘We’ll finally see him naked!’ the yellow boxes sparkle. ‘Well, close to naked. That’s the closest we’ll ever get to see him naked,’ the white box huffs. I ignore the boxes and grab a loose grey shirt. I go back to Peter and already my face seems to go red. I’m not gonna look. I’m just gonna put on this shirt and leave him be. I look to the side and pull off his red suit. I focus on his torso and put on the shirt carefully. As I pull down the shirt to his hips, my mouth goes dry.
This fucking guy is wearing a thong. I’m can’t think straight. I lick my lip and clear my throat. ‘Put boxers on this twink!’ ‘No, no, let us enjoy the view!’ Shut up! I scramble to find something to put on his lower half. I grab boxers and put it over his thong. Holy shit.
I leave the room and sigh. I just did that. The fuck is my problem? I can’t breathe properly, but I don’t discard my mask. Guess I’ll sleep on the couch.
---
[Peter Parker]
Uuuuugggghhhh. Everything hurts in my body. I open my eyes, and I feel a little panic set in. Where am I? I try to sit up, but I can’t everything hurts. I let out a little panicked yell and whimper. My suit is on the ground too. Someone fucking undressed me?!
After a second, I remember what happened in the tunnel. Wade. He had to have done this. That means he saw me without my mask. And I’m in his bed right now.
Wade bursts in the room.
“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panickly says. He’s still wearing his stupid mask?!
“Everything hurts, you big idiot. I got shot,” I grunt. He runs to me and pull the blankets down. Fuuu-- I’m wearing one of his shirts? That’s what I’m assuming because it smells like him. And-- boxers?! I nearly have an asthma attack. He lifts it up and checks my bandages.
“It seems fine. Just wait it out, okay?”
“Yeah, whatever.” I look at his dumb mask. “Wade, can you take that off?!”
He pauses and look up at me. “No.”
“Seriously? You saw me basically naked, and I can’t even see your face?”
“Peter, it’s not because of my face. I have bad scars. I look like a fucking scrotum.”
“I don’t care!” I say, trying to get up and snatch it from his face. Instead, I make my wound worse. I feel a little rip and I feel something warm. I look down and the bandage soaks up.
“Lay down,” he commands. He pushes my chest down and I groan in pain. I swallow my sad frail cries. My eyes water and I bit the inside of my cheek not to bawl. “Shit,” I can hear Wade mumble. “Don’t cry--fuck.”
“I’m not crying,” I say, my voice cracking many times. That wasn’t convincing at all.
“If I take off my mask, will you stop crying?” Wade says reluctantly. I smile and nod my head a little too fast. I can hear him sigh and start pulling off his mask. I can see his chin and his lips. It is really badly scarred. He pulls it completely off in one motion.
He isn’t ugly. At all. Yes, he’s scarred and bald, but crap, he still looks good. His jawline and the way his face is sculpted makes me even more weak. I completely forget about the pain when I’m looking at his face. His eyes dart anywhere except my eyes. “See? Scrotum.”
I laugh a little and say, “No. I don’t see it.” I shift closer to him and touch his face with my palm. He finally looks at me. I trace the scars with my fingers. His skin isn’t rough, it’s fairly smooth, but you can still feel the indents in his skin.
Suddenly, a beep goes off. We both get startled. I retreat my hand and he stands up.
“I forgot about the chicken nuggets, shit!” he yells, sliding through the hall to the kitchen. I let out a breathy laugh. I lay back my head on the pillow.
“Hey, Wade?” I call.
“Yeah, baby boy?” Glad to know he’s back to normal.
“Can I have your phone so I can call my aunt?”
Wade giggles and soon comes back with chicken nuggets and a phone. “What’s so funny?” I ask. He hands me the phone and sits down with the chicken nuggets. He leans on his hands and bats his eyes.
“Oh, nothing,” he slurs. I shake my head and laugh. I dial May’s phone number and she answers on the first ring.
“Hello?” she instantly says over the speaker.
“Hi, it’s Peter, I’m--” I start.
“Where the hell were you?! I was worried sick!” she yells over the phone. I flinch automatically.
“I’m sorry! I ended up at a friends house and I have to stay there for a while.”
“A ‘friend’? Who is this ‘friend’?” she interrogates me. Wade looks at me and winks.
“I’m his boyf--” Wade taunts.
“YOU DON’T KNOW HIM, he’s from a different part of New York!” I yell over him. I can hear her pause and then she lets out a little laugh.
“Alright. Just be safe, sweetie.” I say goodbye and end the call quickly. Wade takes a bite of his chicken nugget and sighs in content.
“God, you are adorable,” he comments.
“Shut up and give me a chicken nugget,” I wail. Wade giggles and kneels up to come eye to eye with me. Wade laughing face makes me want to reach up and kiss him. His smile lines are so cute and it’s more than what I imagined his face to look like while he’s laughing.
“Open wide,” he coos while aiming at my mouth with the chicken nugget. I press my lips together in a tight line. “That’s not the first time I’m gonna say that to you--”
“Can you go a day without saying shit like that?!” I hiss. Wade just smiles and pushes the nugget on my lips. I hesitantly open my mouth and let him feed me. I know for a fact I’m blushing, but I ignore it.
“Good boy,” he laughs. I look away and huff. After him eating a couple more, and me asking for one, but him feeding me anyways, I ask him to help me sit up. “You’re going to make the gunshot wound worse!”
“Please, I can’t even feel any pain!” I lie. I do feel a little pain, but I’m sure I’m fine.
“Okay, but if you start whining, it’s your fault,” Wade scolds me. I roll my eyes. I start struggling to get up and he helps me prop up the pillows in the right way and he lifts my body easily. Surprisingly, no pain. Maybe it’s because I’m focused on how softly he’s holding my hips. “No pain?”
For reasons I don’t want to admit, my words seem to falter, so I just shake my head. He raises an eyebrow and lifts up my shirt. The bandage is soaking with blood. Shit. “Jesus fucking christ!” He runs off to probably get a new bandage.
“It doesn’t hurt though,” I mutter, inspecting it by myself. He comes back with a cotton pad, a cloth, and surgical tape. He unwraps my bandage, which slightly hurts, but I can deal. Blood just pours. Wade grabs the cloth really quick and mops it up. That hurts like hell. I shriek.
“Sorry, sorry, I know.” I grit my teeth and groan. He places the cotton pad and starts to tape it. I lift myself up so he can go to my back and tape it all the way. He’s basically hugging me now. He goes fully around and tears the tape off. I rest on the pillows now.
“Hey,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“You smell like sweat,” I comment.
“Fuck you too, Peter.”
I grin. “Fine, if it bothers you so much, then I’ll change,” he says. Wade goes to the closet and finds a old, probably bought at a thrift store, shirt that looks ugly, but also ridiculously comfortable. He grabbed basketball shorts too. He starts to strip off his suit, and I make a weird noise in my throat.
“WoAh-- uh, you’re changing now and here?” I say, my voice being stupid and crackling every word. He turns to me and laughs.
“What, you can’t handle my body?” he winks. I roll my eyes and shake my head. He continues to take off his shirt and my subconcious self forces my eyes to stare. Damn. His body looks like some kind of greek god. My mouth goes dry and I have to lick my lips. He basically naked now, with only his boxers covering up. My eyes dart to his bulge. Something is very wrong with me, but I’m too zoned in on him. “Aren’t you a thirsty spider?”
My eyes trail up to his face and Wade looking at me with a smug look. I open my mouth to say something to protest, but nothing comes out. Here we go again.
“Please shut up, okay?” I plead.
“Whatever you say!” he winks for the hundredth time today. He puts on the shirt and shorts. I’m an idiot.
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that was far longer update than i expected ppffft. thank you sm for reading and wait for pt 3 ! <3
smaknfdkjsal im trying i really am, so here is this, i hope you enjo Y?
[[FYI, PETER IS OF AGE!! no underage shit going on here]]
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[Peter Parker]
The cold night air rushes through my suit. I push my mask up to take a bite of my sandwich. I sigh of relief. It feels nice to look over the city from a high up view (the top of my apartment building), and watch all the city lights and cars. I can even see groups of people walk together to a near club or to a restaurant.
College has been stressing me out. I’m lucky enough to have Ned and MJ in the same college, but the work amount is more than I thought. I still live with Aunt May, mostly because I don’t want to leave her alone, I’ve all she’s got left, and also because I’m broke as hell.
I finish my sandwich and take the time to stretch my muscles. I love moments like these, where nothing else in the world matters and all I pay attention to is my senses. Talking of senses, the back of my head tingles weirdly, and I know something is up. I whip my head to the direction of my tingles and pull my mask down. I run and sling to building to building until I finally sense that the trouble is right here.
It’s a dark alleyway, but I can hear two male voices. I crawl down the building to reach the ground. Goddamnit, Deadpool.
“You killed your own fucking grandma, you sicko. A defenseless sweet grandma. You’re going to learn your lesson by me, returning the favor,” Deadpool says, holding his katana, and raising it up. I instantly web his hand and pull him back to the ground. I web the grandma-killer to the wall.
“Again, Deadpool?” I say. He groans and looks up at me.
“Sorry, baby boy, I couldn’t help myself!”
“Told you not to call me that,” I mumble. I blush under the mask at his nickname for me. I’d die if he saw my blush. I web the criminal in a little cocoon so I can drop him off easily at the station. Deadpool tends to get a little violent. Actually, a lot. He promised that he wouldn’t do things like this, but here we are. I can usually calm him down easily. “C’mon, help me take this guy to the station,” I say, dragging the trapped murder.
“I’d love to sweetums, but you forgot the super-strong-sticky-jizz that’s stuck on my hand.”
I sigh and help him get unstuck to my web.
We drop off the murder at the station, with Deadpool waiting a street away. If he got arrested, he’d get multiple life sentences in prison with just the evidence they have on him. Why am I friends with this guy? He’s straight up a murderer, but yet he can make me blush with only two words. I met him a few months ago, when he yelled at me “IT’S WEDNESDAY MY DUDES, AHHHHHH.”
I leave the station and tag along with him. I’ve never actually had someone who actually wanted to fight with me, so yeah, I guess I’m kind of clingy to him. Even though he drives me absolutely insane. “Need a walk home? It’s late out, and I don’t want anything bad to happen,” he winks at me.
“I can walk and defend myself, Deadpool,” I say.
“Call me Wade, from now on. Just so you know what to scream when I fu--”
“YEAH! Nice name!” I cut him off. There was something up with him today, he never used this much dirty jokes. Plus, why was he even telling me his name? Did he really trust me that much? Should I tell him my name? What the hell are you supposed to do?!
“You alright? You froze up on me,” Wade poke my cheek.
“Huh? Hah, sorry,” I awkwardly say. I realize we’re almost at my house, and I stop walking. The last thing I want is him knowing where I live. “Well, uh, this is where I gotta leave,” I say, painfully awkward.
“See you ‘round, baby boy.” He waves and turns around to leave. I bit my lip.
“Wade?”
He turns around and tilts his head. “Just call me Peter.”
I can see his mask shift into a smile.
“Okay, Peter.” He waves and then skips off. I don’t even realize I’m smiling.
--
My eyes flutter to close. I gotta pay attention in this class. I’m so tired. I shouldn’t have stayed up that long outside, but then again, I wouldn’t have stopped that murder, and Wade killing another bad guy. Wade. Jesus Christ, that guy is always on my mind. I’ve never seen him actually violent. He’s always so goofy and stupid with me, even though I know he’s broken inside.
Sometimes I wish I could take off his mask. Even if he tell me his face is messed up, I still want to. It’s like I can hear his smile. My stomach does a flip whenever he laughs. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much of a crush on a guy. Like yeah, Chris Pine is the hottest human being on the earth, but it’s not like he can make me feel what Wade makes me feel.
“Peter?” Ned nudges me.
“Huh?” I jump.
“What are you thinking about?” Ned winks at me. “About WaDeEe?”
I visibly choke on my spit. I told him everything when I got home last night. Surprisingly, he was awake, crying about his student loans. “Ned-- stop.”
“You’re not denying, Petey!” Ned giggles. I groan and roll my eyes.
--
I get home and fall onto the ground from my heavy backpack and exhaustion. I grunt and push my backpack away and lay in a fetal position.
“Peter, someone is here to see you!” Aunt May chimes.
“In a minute,” I grumble. I hear someone walk over to me, and they smell heavily of expensive cologne and faintly shawarma.
“Get up, kid. I gotta talk to you,” he pokes me with his foot. I look up, and of course it’s Mr. Stark. I rub the tiredness out of my eyes and get up. I run my hands through my hair to try and look at least decent, but I know I look like a zombie, and Mr. Stark’s concerned stare proves it.
“Alright, well, I’m going to go run some errands and leave you two at it, okay?” Aunt May smiles. We both nod. Aunt May knows about the Spiderman thing, and she’s often strict about it, so I do still have to sneak out, but she’s more comfortable when I’m with someone like Mr. Stark with me. Aunt May leaves and Mr. Stark instantly starts to talk.
“You’re becoming friends with Deadpool?! Peter, you have no idea how dangerous he is! You have to stay away from him,” Mr. Stark sternly yells at me.
“He really isn’t that bad, Mr. Stark,” I grouse.
“Peter, do you know what kinds of crimes he has commited?!”
“Yes! I do. He’s not doing that stuff anymore,” I’m lying a little on that one. He’s trying to stop, but thanks to me, I’m helping him.
“I don’t trust him to be around you.”
“Stop acting like a dad. I didn’t leave my class to be lectured again,” I groan.
“I may not be your father, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you like one.”
Wait, hold up. “You love me?” Honestly, Uncle Ben has been close on being a father, but he’s dead. Mr. Stark has been really close to being one of them. My pops and my Uncle Ben. The problem is that if I do start becoming attached to Mr. Stark, something bad will happen, and then he’ll be gone.
Mr. Stark just looks at me. “I care about you, kid. And if anything were to happen to you, especially because of him-- I wouldn’t know how to deal.”
I look a him for a second and tackle him for a hug. “Oh--! Okay.” Mr. Stark awkwardly pats me on the back and head. I feel safer whenever I hug Mr. Stark, I guess that’s why I like hugging him. Plus, he smells good. He pulls away from me.
“Don’t worry, by the way. Wade wouldn’t hurt me,” I say. Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow.
“Why are you so sure about that?”
My body decides to blush. “It’s-- I-- he just wouldn’t.”
“Do you have something to tell me, Peter? Is something going on between you two?”
“What? No-- pfft. I’m not gay, what are you talking about? Vaginas, am I right?”
Mr. Stark looks at me unimpressed. “Peter, I am gay. I’m dating Stephen-- I thought I told you this?”
“WHAT?!” I scream. Mr. Stark looks at me weirdly. “I-- what? I never knew?”
“I know a gay when I see one, Peter.”
“Fine. Maybe I’m bi, okay? And maybe he’s been like flirting with me hardcore, and maybe I kinda have crush on the guy, but look, I can’t imagine him hurting me!”
Mr. Stark sighs. “Maybe it’s because you’ve got a huge crush on him. Just, please, know what you’re doing. If he ever comes as close as laying a finger on you, I’ll pay him 10,000 to stay away from you, I swear.”
I laugh and nod. “I gotta go now, but take care, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Mr. Stark fluffs my hair and exits the door. That was weird. I laugh a little. Mr. Stark came all the way here to warn me about Wade, even though he could’ve just called me about it.
The 6 Times Peter Wanted To Reveal his Identity (And the 1 Time He Did) Chapter 1
Chapters: 1/7
Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types , Deadpool - All Media Types , Marvel
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Characters: Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, Mary Jane Watson, Eleanor Camacho
Additional Tags: Spideypool Big Bang 2018 , Prompt Fill , Peter Parker Needs a Hug , Deadpool has a daughter , Hurt/Comfort , Peter has anxiety , Anxiety Attacks , Secret Identity , Identity Reveal , Peter chasing Wade
Summary:
Peter is madly in love with Wade, and plans to meet him on top of his apartment building to reveal his identity. Wade thinks Peter is standing on the ledge ready to jump, and takes it upon himself to make sure he gets home safe and finds a reason to live again.
read on ao3
Masterlist Here
I’ve been sick this week and fell asleep at like 5 PM yesterday so I never got to submit my part for the Spideypool Big Bang 2018 hosted by @spideypoolfanfic
This was my first bang and it was super well organized and super fun!
HUGE THANK YOU to my patient ass beta @alurkerofnote who’s offered a LOT of help.
This is gonna be in 7 parts, 1 chapter equaling 1 day!
My prompts were 50 and 53;
Secret Identities-
Wade finds Peter on a roof and panics. It looks like that kid is about to jump.
Peter is waiting for Deadpool to confess who he is. He’s so deeply in love that it both hurts and annoys him. He wants to come clean. So why does Deadpool freak out when he sees him?
If Peter actually has the guts to reveal his identity- he isn’t sure.
#2
After a big fight in NYC, Spider-Man swings away and hides himself in a treehouse in a small garden. Ellie finds spider-Man crying his heart and soul out in her fortress.
But seriously, he’s just one spider and has worries too!
Januarys in the Bronx were some of Peter’s least favorite parts of the year. It was common knowledge that winters weren’t completely erratic in New York, though they couldn’t be described as tame either. They resided in a gray-area between, in which snow could unpredictably monopolize city blocks on any given day, yet a few layers of clothing would typically suffice for warmth when navigating the city. Still, the chill had a vicious bite to it, and it wasn’t wise to wander the streets longer than needed.
Especially not when suspended 44 feet above the street, clad only in a hasty assemblage of light winter clothes.
Yet, that’s what Peter was currently dressed in; a beanie thrown over his curly hair that would normally be standing every which way it pleased, a light hoodie that had been crumpled underneath textbooks in his backpack for hours, and a pair of worn-out jeans that had seen better days. It was a poor excuse for an outfit considering the length of time Peter had been standing on the roof of this building, and by all means of the word he was completely frozen. Still, the nip of the night wasn’t the most pressing issue on his mind at the moment.
Peter’s eyes searched the darkened alley below his feet for any sign that he should abandon his current plans and instead send himself flying back towards his meager Queens apartment twenty minutes away. An hour of of looking for a reason to leave had proven no such luck, and the 22 year old was stuck waiting to freeze to death, or for his guest of the hour to show up. Whichever happened first. He hoped he would freeze to death sooner, to save himself the horrible embarrassment he was about to go through, but his radioactive blood and slow- but present-healing factor assured that wouldn’t be happening. Instead, he was running through dialogues and scenarios in his head, hoping one would sound the most promising and he could stick with it.
“Hey, dude, it’s me!” The corner of Peter’s lips drew up in a theatrical style, and he beamed off into the empty night as if he was conversing with someone else standing right in front of him. “I know this isn’t really what you expected, but I hope that… that you… that... stupid. This is stupid. I’m stupid.” Peter’s shoulders sagged once again, and he toed a pebble until it tumbled off the ledge he was pacing on, clattering onto the fire escape below. This is a stupid plan.
The very affordable apartment building below him was quiet, and the particular apartment he had been staking out was empty. Wade wasn’t inside, likely off on one of his ethically-questionable jobs, but he would probably be back soon. He and Peter always met up sometime between 1 and 3 AM when their schedules allowed, and it was Sunday, which meant Wade was gonna come back toting fast food for the two to munch on. He was expecting Spider-Man, which would certainly put a damper on their late-night snacking, but hopefully things would go smoother than Peter feared they would go. After all, Peter was finally going to reveal his face to Wade.
It wasn’t a hasty decision. Really, Peter had been considering taking this step for years. The two had been acquaintances for 6 years, meeting just a year after the Spider had gained his super powers and taken on his hero persona. It was a terrible first meeting, and their encounters afterwards had been even more so. Somehow, between the nights of Wade annoying Peter for hours on end, accidental team ups that led to purposeful team ups, and laughter once the mercenary had learned exactly how to prod at Peter’s similarly immature sense of humor, they had become friends, and had grown close over the last 4 years. And of that time, Peter had been completely and pathetically in love with Wade for 2 years.
Wade didn’t know, of course. The only person that did was Mary Jane, after Peter ranted about his frustration with the stagnant nature of their relationship during a drunk stupor. But she was the only person Peter had told. Confessing his feelings to Wade was out of the question. He had grown comfortable with the weird relationship that had formed between them over the time they’d spent together. They spent nearly all of their free time together, whether it was fighting on patrol or Peter accompanying Wade on missions to hold him to the ‘no-killing’ promise the ex-mercenary had made. Once patrols were done, they typically retired to a roof top to spend the night munching on late-night fast food, or to Wade’s apartment to play games and deal with open wounds that needed stitching. Wade never pushed to see Peter’s face or know his name, even if Wade hadn’t been very secretive with his own identity. But Peter knew that, no matter how close Spider-Man and Deadpool grew as friends, their relationship would never grow intimate unless Wade got to know the man behind the mask first. .
So there Peter was, anxiety bubbling hot on the surface of his skin, as he wrung his hands and tried to plan how exactly he would come out and admit he was Spider-Man.
Maybe he could do a flip iconic to Spider-Man and let Wade make his own inferences? Wade seemed to be the type to enjoy dramatic stunts. Or maybe he could introduce himself in a method similar to Tony Stark. Peter Parker: Awkward, Intelligent, Poor College Student, and Spider-Man. No, that was lamer than any of his other plans. This would be easier if he had just worn his suit and ripped off his mask, but he knew that if he had, he would have lost his nerve upon seeing him and never gone through with the reveal. He stepped up onto the ledge of the roof and looked down into the dark with a frown. His backpack containing his suit was webbed to the wall feet under him. Maybe he could just open the bag and show Wade what was inside…?
Peter didn’t have much time to decide, as a soft rattle against the brick wall opposite of him drew his attention. Leather boots were scuffling up the rungs of the ladder leading up, and Peter had to make up his mind quick. He closed his eyes and balanced on the ledge under his feet, steadying his frayed nerves. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Wade was understanding. Wade was kind. But maybe he didn’t want to know Peter’s identity? Maybe he never pushed so he wouldn’t be disappointed by the face under the mask? God, what if Wade turned and walked completely out of his life once he realized Spider-Man was a puny science nerd? The possibilities were firing off in his head, growing more intense every inch Wade grew closer. Maybe he should just jump down into the alley and take off running, and abandon this idea that somehow this would lead to something more between them. Peter didn’t even know if Wade returned his feelings.
“Don’t do it.”
Wade was a few feet behind Peter, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. His voice was lower than Peter remembered, and a bit more serious. It jarred Peter enough that he turned back to look at him, still perched on the raised borders of the roof. There he stood in his red-and-black glory, his body language tenser than normal. Peter’s mouth was too dry to talk now, panic radiating through his body in waves. He hadn’t come up with a proper plan for this conversation, and he suddenly didn’t know how to start it. His lips parted to say Wade’s name, confused by the aggressive demeanor, but the syllables died on his tongue.
Wade took a few steps that seemed almost hesitant towards Peter, reaching out a large gloved hand in his direction. Did he already know? He sure was acting weird, especially considering everything Wade did was weird. Instinctively Peter reeled back, one foot skidding against the concrete as he inched closer to the edge, the cold winter wind now flowing up through his hair.
“Uh…” Peter replied intelligently, eyes darting anywhere but that intimidating mask staring directly at him.
“Come down from there.” Wade’s hand was a few inches in front of Peter now, close enough he could comfortably reach out and grab it if he wished. And boy did he want to, but he was much too nervous and befuddled to take such a brash action. Peter was sure there was no way Wade didn’t know at this point. Why would he be acting so casual? “Trust me, things can’t be that bad. I’ve been through shit, too. But you don’t want to become another statistic.”
“What?” Now Peter was definitely lost.
“Come on.” Wade prompted again, sticking his hand so close it nearly bumped into Peter’s chest. “Not tonight. Just get down from the ledge.”
Confusion clearly etched across his expression, Peter stepped around Wade’s hand and made the jump to land on the roof. There was an audible breath of relief from behind Wade’s mask when his feet connected with the gravel. His body language seemed to loosen up, and he plopped down to sit on the ledge where Peter’s feet just were. “What’s your name?”
“P-Peter?”
“Peter.” Wade repeated back, as if he somehow could have heard the wrong thing. “That’s kinda nerdy.”
“Nerdy?” Peter said defensively, embarrassment flushing red over his frozen cheeks, darkening them further.
“Yep. I think the last Peter I met was like 50 years old.” Wade continued on, humor splaying out in every word, though Peter wasn’t laughing. “That’s like a lock-you-in-the-gym-closet kind of a name.”
“Uh-Huh. Did you just come here to make fun of my name?” Normally, Peter wouldn’t mind the teasing that Wade often times didn’t mean. But tonight, when his anxiety was so high and he had absolutely no idea what was going on, he wasn’t in the mood to get made fun of.
“No, no, of course not.” Wade was standing, now inches taller than Peter, and he took a few calm steps in his direction. “Look, I’m just a Deadpool. I know I’m not Dr. Phil. But I couldn’t just let you make some bad decision and let the world lose one more hot piece of ass.” Wade paused, groaning as if he was being scolded by himself, before he continued. “Yeah, fuck, sorry, bad timing. Anyways, I live in the area and saw you standing on the ledge, and I thought I could maybe talk you down. Dying hurts, in case you were wondering. It’s not worth it.”
Dying...hurts? Talk him down? Bad decision?
Oh.
Oh.
“ Oh.” Everything suddenly connected and the gears started turning in Peter’s brain, followed by a bubbling panic rising up from the pits of his stomach. “No, wait, I wasn’t…” He didn’t quite know how to explain he wasn’t there to do that without completely explaining why he was up there in the first place. Any resolve he may have had earlier about revealing his superpowered persona had melted away, his plans going awry within seconds.
“Hey, I’m not judging you.” Wade insisted, taking another step closer to Peter, almost testingly, to see if he would run away. He didn’t even budge. “You’re, what, 21? In college? Living in New York? This shitty city is expensive, and paying for it all can get really overwhelming. Something happen? Parents divorce? Girlfriend left you? She’s pregnant and left you for another guy? Killing yourself seems like the only option to get back at her?”
Peter gave a weak shake of his head, finding his throat suddenly desert dry. He didn’t have time to come up with an excuse. He felt like he was barely bobbing above water. “No I…” What was he doing? “I just have...a big decision to make. You know?”
Wade gave a sympathetic nod, and moved his hand to start rubbing comforting circles into Peter’s shoulder. He could feel the steady hammer of his heart against his chest, the beat picking up nervously with Wade this close to him, staring at him. Not the mask, not Spider-Man, but Peter Parker. “Can I take you to a hospital?” He asked in a softer voice, which didn’t seem entirely possible for Wade to do. “Like I said, I’m not a therapist, but they can help you way better than the voices in my head can.”
“Hospit...Oh, no no no.” Peter held up his hands in a surrender and backed away from Wade’s grasp once more, the spot on his shoulder feeling much colder without his hand there. “No, I’m feeling a lot better. I swear. I can go home alone.”
“Do you live with anyone? Parents? Roommates?” Wade continued to press the subject, and Peter took another step back with each word, feeling smothered.
“I live with my Aunt.” Peter admitted, unsure why he was having the sudden spurt of bravery to say that even if he couldn’t tell the truth about what he’d originally come here to say. “But she’s out of the country. I’ll be okay.”
“Sorry, but I think I would kick my own ass if I let you leave alone and you put a bullet in your mouth.” Wade pulled his phone out of some pocket tucked who-knows-where on his suit, starting to type away the best he could through thick leather gloves. “Plus, I’ve gotten really into that astrological sign reading shit, and my horoscope said that today I was supposed to take action when I see things going bad. So I’m gonna take that to mean I’m your guardian angel.”
“Guardian angel?” Peter quirked an eyebrow, trying to keep the conversation from delving into an uncomfortable seriousness.
“Mhm. So my first act of Guardian Angel Goodness is to make sure you get home safe.” Wade raised the cell to his ear, the sight almost comical next to his animated mask. “Luckily, I’ve got the cutest cabbie in all of New York on speed dial. You’ll love him.”
Okay, so Peter had definitely been ready to lay it all out on the line for Wade a few minutes ago, but now everything felt like it was moving too fast. He planned to show Wade where he lived in a few weeks or months, not within minutes. But somehow, he didn’t think he’d take no for an answer right now, so Peter decided he’d have to play along. Just for now, until he found a good moment to interject and tell Wade the truth. His floundering confidence was making that difficult, however.
While Peter was lost in his thoughts, Wade had finished his conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line, and had gathered himself enough that he was tugging on Peter’s arm. “Ready?”
“Uhhh….” Peter’s eyes trailed up to Wade’s mask, his nerves firing off as the skin he touched seemed hotter than normal. “I’ll meet you down there.”
“Please don’t tell me I already fucked this up and you’re ready to take a nose-dive into the alley.” Wade groaned, his hand squeezing just a little tighter on Peter’s arm, making a shiver run up his spine.
“No, I just need to think for a second.” Wade didn’t respond, and Peter could practically see him thinking the worst. “I won’t jump. I promise, dude.”
“Okaaaaay.” Wade headed towards the fire escape from where he had first come, stooping to grab the bag of food on his way. “Just know I live around this shit hole, and your body won’t get cleaned up for like a week. I don’t really wanna smell rotten flesh around here every day.”
“Has anyone ever told you how sensitive you are?” Peter murmured.
Wade’s laugh that followed made Peter’s heart leap in his chest, but he kept a cool face. “It’s a special talent of mine.” He teased, before he slid down the ladder and disappeared in the dark.
Alone, Peter slipped to his knees, palming the darkened side of the building until his fingers brushed against the canvas of his backpack. He ripped it free of the webs, double checked that his suit was still inside, and slung it over his back. Before he headed down, however, he had to focus on pacifying his erratic heartbeat.
Disappointment was evident in his mind, in both himself, and the way the situation had played out. He’d been picturing and planning for this moment- albeit not well - for close to a year. He may have lost his resolve within seconds of seeing Wade, but there was no way he was going to let himself keep this up.
Peter had very strong feelings for Wade, beyond a stupid puppy crush, and he hoped the other maybe felt the same. He knew he had to take this step, whether it went as smoothly as he dreamed out or not, and there was no use in pretending any longer if he wanted to have a chance of progressing their relationship. .
When Peter got to the bottom rung of the ladder, however, and saw Wade holding the door to the cab open for him like the most unconventional disney prince ever, he decided it would be better to do it in a more private area, so he gave the driver his address and climbed onto the torn up upholstery.
…..
Wade, who lived in an absolute wreck of a safehouse, was unfairly unimpressed with Peter’s apartment.
It was messy, sure, but it wasn’t horrible. The dishes were only sort of piled up in the sink, and his dirty laundry was sitting in a heap in front of the TV, but with Aunt May gone Peter had had more time and freedom to be Spider-Man, and chores were the last obligation on his mind.
Not knowing this, of course, Wade made a disgusted noise as soon as they opened the door on the third story.
“What?” Peter asked self consciously, toeing off his shoes in the doorway as to not track in mud. At least he had one thing going for him. Wade didn’t seem the share the same sentiment, and he trudged right in in his dust-caked boots.
“No wonder you’re depressed. You live only slightly better than me.” Wade snorted, his mask turning every which way as he took in the plain furnishings of the living room. His thumb jut out towards the half-opened bedroom door. “This is your bedroom?”
“Yeaaah.” Peter trailed his gaze, trying to recall if he left anything incriminating on his floor. However, he definitely didn’t want images of Wade in his bedroom stuck in his head at night, so he didn’t invite him in.
Wade studied his face and walked over to Peter, gently pushing him until he fell back on his couch. “Sleeping in beds is overrated anyways. Besides, you can watch TV until I get this food reheated.” He glanced back at the screen and kicked the clothes out of the way, giving Peter a full view of it. “Blanket closet?”
“Next to the kitchen.” Peter frowned, shifting uncomfortably at the favors. “I-It’s really okay, you already helped me get home and-”
“Sssh. Just watch your show, Petey.” Wade said obnoxiously as he drug a fluffy comforter from the closet and dumped it on top of Peter’s lap. “Your microwave isn’t a disaster, too, is it?”
“Shut up. It’s fine.” Peter groaned and sunk into the comforter up to his chin. Being babied was really humiliating, but he was still working on a good time to interject his confession in a way that didn’t seem too forced.
There was a beeping indicating Wade was fiddling with his appliances in the kitchen, and Peter took the chance to close his eyes. “I’m Spider-Man.” He whispered to himself, his voice shakier and quieter with each syllable. “Surprise.”
“Hope you like Chinese.” Wade returned soon after with the bag of food, dropping the sides and silverware at Peter’s side before he handed him the foam take-out container. Peter gingerly accepted it, guilt pulling at his stomach. “I had a hot date tonight, but he didn’t show up. So you get to eat it instead.”
“I don’t wanna take y-”
“Eat it.” Wade crooned in a cartoony voice, and reached into his back pocket. He produced his phone again, tossing it at Peter, which he smoothly caught. “And give me your number.”
“Why?” Peter asked, nervous fingertips lingering over the touch screen.
“Because I’m trying to make a change in my life. I’m not the same man I was a year ago.” Wade paused, sinking down to sit on the coffee table across from Peter as it creaked under his weight. “Okay, maybe I am, but I wanna be more of a hero. And the only way I can do that is by saving people like Spider-Man would do. So I need your number, to make sure you text me at least once a day so I know you’re still alive.”
The mention of ‘Spider-Man’ had Peter’s fingers twitching again around the cracked phone case, but he couldn’t find the right way to voice his truth, so he stayed quiet instead. Hey, funny thing, that’s saving people like I would do.
“Type it.” Wade whispered in a dorky voice, pulling Peter back to the present moment. His hands moved on his own, and suddenly his actual number appeared on the phone log. There was another entry on the phone, under the name Spidey-Cakes with an eggplant emoji following. That was his burner number, luckily, with that cheap flip phone shoved somewhere in his room. Still, Wade being able to contact Peter at all hours of the day now was making him nervous. He would never catch a break.
Wade snatched the phone back with excitement after he verified Peter had, indeed, typed an actual phone number, and he plugged it into his contacts under some name Peter wasn’t aware of. He then shoved the smartphone back into his pocket, and placed one heavy hand on top of Peter’s shaking shoulder.
“I’m gonna leave because I know I’m worse company than Alec Baldwin and Adam Sandler combined, but don’t do anything drastic, okay?” Wade’s mask never changed, lifeless as always, but Peter could hear the warm smile in his voice. His heart rate picked up, the close proximity between them making his chest ache, but the fact that he hadn’t accomplished what he’d even stayed out to do was still weighing heavily in the air. He couldn’t leave off on this! He wasn’t a depressed teenager that needed babysitting. He was Spider-Man. He was Wade’s best friend. He was in love with him.
Before he knew it the mercenary was at the door, fiddling with the deadbolt to figure out how to lock it on his way out. Peter jumped, pushing the Chinese food and the blanket aside, shooting up to the flats of his feet with his eyes wide. “Deadpool.” He tried to sound firm, but his voice came out smaller than he had intended.
The mercenary looked up, finally managing to flip the deadbolt to lock so he could slam it shut behind him. “Yes, sweet pea?”
Peter’s jaw tightened, and he stood there blankly like an idiot for a solid 30 seconds. “I’m…” The words were caught in his lungs, feeling so incredibly foreign and heavy that he couldn’t get them out. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Aunt May, and Mary Jane had found out on her own. He didn’t exactly have practice with this.
“You’re…?”
Drawn back to reality as he realized he had been silent, Peter swallowed back his confession and slowly sunk back to the couch. “Thanks. For everything.” He murmured, dragging guilty eyes down to his hands.
Wade paused, then slowly crept out the door with a hop to his step. “No problem, baby boy. Stay safe. And make sure to text me tomorrow!”
The door closed hard behind Wade as he slammed it shut in an attempt to get the deadbolt to stay locked, and the silence settled over Peter like a heavy blanket. Suddenly he was alone, albeit with warm food at his side and comfortably tucked into the couch cushions. Wade was right; the idea of passing out in the living room instead of his bedroom seemed a little more enticing with every moment.
He drug the food Wade had brought him onto his lap and flipped on a cartoon. He was feeling a little tired, anyways, so patrol could wait an hour or two. The Chinese smelled amazing compared to the toaster waffles he’d been downing for days, and sleepiness hung over his eyelids.
Wade had been so incredibly sweet, Peter wasn’t sure what to do with the memory of it. Mixed emotions were plaguing his gut, but above all, it had reminded him of how intensely he had feelings for the man, and how badly he wanted to have a connection with him.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would find a way to tell him the truth.
For now, he was falling asleep to the lull of New York late night TV, the scent of Chow Mein wafting up to his nose, and the ghost of Wade’s voice calling him sweet pea playing hot in his mind.
Here is our contribution for the @spideypoolfanfic prompt!!!!!!
Me and my beloved friend @cloudinmy-head, we make a comic together for the prompt idea! We had the support from Kylynn!!
Thank you so much to both of you, you all are an angel in my life!! <3
It was super fun, I loved working with @cloudinmy-head while making the pages.
I’m super proud of the result!!!!!!
We worked making all the pages together since one of us make the sketch and the other the lineart and the painting, @cloudinmy-head make all the lettering. ♥
Thank you for this opportunity to participate. ♥
