Spider-Man/Deadpool - "You Can't Protect Me"
“You can’t protect me.” Peter told him. “Especially not like this.”
Wade raised an eyebrow. “Seems like I am,” he pointed out.
“Wade, this is kidnapping.”
“I call it a loving relocation.”
“The law calls it a kidnapping.”
“Oh, the law,” Wade waved his hand, “who listens to that anyway?”
Peter hit himself on the face. “Wade, this is ridiculous.”
“Lovingly so,” Wade reminded him.
“Just because I got injured-”
“A concussion baby boy, three weeks in hospital, no visitations from boyfriends.” The worst part was he couldn’t stick a gun in the guys face without blowing Peter’s cover. And possibly going to jail.
Peter sighed. “I’m sorry about that.” And he was, really, he would’ve loved Wade to see him, but the cards just hadn’t fell that way. And now that he could spend time with Wade, he was spending it locked up in some basement somewhere because Wade had decided the world was too big and scary for a lil’ spider like him.
He groaned as Wade shrugged. “Not your fault that certain doctors are going to be getting certain treats in the mail.”
“Do not blow up the doctors.”
Wade pouted. “No fun.” He shook off the pout. “But I can’t have it happening again.”
Peter blinked at him. “Wade. I’m going to escape here.”
“Good luck getting back to NY,” Wade cheerfully told him.
Peter had literally no idea where he was. He could be in Australia for all he knew. “Okay,” Peter said, changing tact. “What makes you think I’d be safe here?”
Wade gave him a surprised look, then pointedly looked around the self-styled apartment. “Well, there’s no bad guys, for one,” he began. “No buildings to fall off of, no grenades to be caught, no sexy people to seduce you.” He tapped himself on the chest. “Except me, of course. No banks to be robbed, no people to fight…It’s paradise, baby boy!”
Gotcha, Peter thought. “What if I hit my head again?” he asked innocently.
“There’s no one to do that to you here,” Wade reminded.
“I know. What if I accidentally trip? Showers are dangerous places, you know.”
Wade blinked once.
“Or,” Peter continued. “What if I choke on food, or the building has poisonous gases, or gets hit by a meteor or spontaneous combusts? What if aliens attack the building and I have no way of fighting them cos I’ve been locked up here and have no weapons?”
A look of horror was dawning on Wade’s face.
“Or what if you get locked up or something and can’t bring me food for a few months and I starve to death? What if I get sick? What then Wade?”
Wade was opening and closing his mouth. Then he jolted into action. “No where’s safe,” he cried, taking Peter’s hand. “The only suitable action is a Romeo and Juliet suicide.”
Peter hit his hand. “Or you could let me go back to where lots of people can take care of me.”
Wade hesitated. “That…that could work.”
“Good,” Peter said, kissing him lightly on the lips. “Before we miss the next episode of Game of Thrones.”