spider webs (and other sticky substances)

James grunted, doing a sit-up to drink his apple juice.

He was laying upside down, hanging off the roof of a building using only his feet to keep himself up, latched on the railing at the edge of the roof.

Hot girl shit.

To be honest, he was pretty shocked that it was still easy for him to do the sit-ups.

He really needed to go back to the gym more often.

Why didn’t he go to the gym, anyways?

Oh, right, he was too busy watching cheesy 2000’s rom-coms. It was barely even Christmas season and he had started dipping his toes into cheesy Hallmark films too, trying desperately to not let himself fully give in until December.

“Oh, won’t you come on over?” He started singing under his breath. He hummed the rest of ‘Valerie’ (we love you Amy Winehouse!), bopping his head and shimmying his shoulders as much as he could while laying upside down with all the blood in his body steadily flowing to his head. Not that he noticed. Or cared.

He vaguely looked down in the direction of the street, seeing some little boy walking with his mother holding a Subway sandwich.

Damn, what time was it?

He patted around blindly while still laying upside down before grabbing his phone from where it was laying next to him on the roof and looking at it.

“Oh, fff-uck.” He muttered, realising how much he actually lost track of time.

It was well into lunchtime, and James hadn’t eaten anything other than the apple juice and an actual apple and… well… that was it.

He did the final sit-up and unhooked his feet from the railing, pulling his mask down and getting ready to climb back down.

It was time for him to make like a bread truck and haul buns.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

“Do you think Regulus likes me?” Sirius asked, laying down smack in the middle of James’ floor as soon as he walked into his flat.

“Um… yes?” James ruffled his own hair, confused.

“Are you sure?”

“Hey… Sirius… why don’t you get off the floor? I haven’t vacuumed in a while.”

“It won’t matter what happens to me if Regulus really doesn’t like me.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t like you?”

Don’t get him wrong, James could be a qualified therapist - he was great with handling Sirius’ mental breakdowns. He was also great at the 2:00am talks Sirius sparked randomly. 

But that was usually when James was already half-prepared and he had an inkling something was about to go off. 

If an argument started or it was close to an important date, Sirius was bound to talk to James about anything that was bothering him. 

James checked his phone, and no significant dates came up: no family member’s birthday, no dates marking anything important that happened to Sirius.

In James’ opinion, these past few months were some of the best Sirius and Regulus had that he knew of. 

Nobody was fighting or airing out dirty laundry. 

Mainly because most of the dirty laundry was being done at James’ house with James’ fancy washing machine (that had a touchpad) (why the ass did a laundry machine need a touchpad?) (James thrived off hoodies and funky t-shirts and jorts and baggy jeans) (his clothes didn’t require a touchpad).

“I dunno, lately he’s been… good?”

“Is that a problem?” James grunted as he lifted up Sirius off the floor and onto the sofa, carrying him bridal-style.

“The last communication I had with him was breaking into his flat, and he was pretty nice. Well, nice for Regulus.”

Alright, so that was a chapter or two ago. Consistent contact and no fighting. That was really good.

“Wait, you broke into his flat again? ”

“Yeah, while he was in the shower,” Sirius looked smug at his accomplishment.

“I- what- why?”

“Because you weren’t home.” Sirius shrugged as if it was completely normal and he didn’t just give James an aneurysm over thinking about the prospect of his hot brother in the shower.

“So this is the best it’s been in a while? No fights?” James asked, desperately trying to ignore the heat on his face and the twitch of his eye as he ruffled his hair again. 

Maybe if he ignored the blush, it would go away.

Nope, he was thinking about it.

Apparently this wasn’t one of those ‘if I can’t see him he can’t see me’ situations.

James had to learn that wasn’t the case for a lot of things, especially hide-and-seek, unfortunately.

“No fights. But do you think he hates me? What if he’s secretly been harbouring a grudge against me he doesn’t want to talk about?”

“Well, Sirius,” James was planning on giving Sirius a slow explanation, but he felt a buzz in his back right pocket, the Deadpool phone, so he had to wrap it up and get Sirius the fuck out of his place in case it was something important. “Have you considered that you’re so used to fighting with Regulus that it feels weird when you don’t? Not fighting and him being - well… Regulus - means that you’ve made up to a degree where you feel comfortable and brotherly with each other. A bit of advice? Don’t go digging up more fights if there isn’t any reason to. This is it, Sirius, this is what you’ve been trying to do ever since you left that house. Be proud. I am.”

He anxiously watched as Sirius’ eyes filled with assurance and he tried to find a way to kick Sirius out as gently as possible.

“Hey, I think Remus is awake as well.”

“Yeah?” He saw Sirius’ eyes immediately perk up and start shining in anticipation.

“Yeah, at a nice crisp 2:30pm, perfect timing! You should go pepper him with love and affection!” He guided an adorably oblivious puppy-like Sirius out of his flat.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

After James had eaten his food, he decided he needed a nice drink to wash it all down.

No, it wasn’t sewer water.

Even though he was walking to a coffee shop, it wasn’t coffee.

It was the sweet nectar of annoying Marlene motherfucking Mckinnon.

“Marlene!” He exclaimed, strutting into the Coffee Bean Cafe, dapping up Marlene, decked up in her normal waitress attire - cap + ponytail + shaggy bangs + teenage dirtbag attitude + chewing gum + mildly stained apron + chunky Doc Martens.

“What’s up, Potter?” She asked. 

“Nothing much Marls, I was just - you know - walking around, here and there. Oh! I did see-” James started, leaning his hip against the counter.

“I mean what do you want? There are people waiting.” She gestured to the queue forming behind him.

“Oh, my bad, I’ll just, uh, one…” James trailed off, looking at the extensive menu full of shit he’d never heard of before.

“What is it, James?” Marlene sighed, gesturing for someone else to take the cash register next to her so they could serve more people in the slowly building queue. “Can you fuckin’ hurry up?”

James narrowed his eyes at her, deciding to seal his fate (a painful, slow death) (which wouldn’t do much to him, but the principle is still there) by being extra annoying.

“I’ll get a large iced caramel macchiato, but make it with almond milk and add a splash of coconut milk. Also, can you do it half-sweet with five pumps of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon? And make it decaf, but I want it extra strong. Oh, and Marlene? Blend it for a frappuccino texture, but without any ice. Also, top it with whipped cream and drizzle extra caramel on the side.” James gave a slack-jawed Marlene a sick and twisted smirk. “Thank you,” he drawled.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that shit. You’re getting a cake pop.” She grabbed one off the stands once she came back to her senses and reached over the counter to snatch the fifty pound note James was holding. “Thanks for the tip!” She snarked, returning the same forced smile and shoving the cake pop into his hand.

“I’m telling your manager,” James grumbled, taking an angry bite out of his cake pop.

“That’s great Karen,” Marlene wrinkled her nose, sarcastically twisting her lips into smile. “Oh, wait, James, I actually did have to give you something, just stand to the side.”

James, who couldn’t determine whether she was fucking with him or not, waited for her to finish serving the next customer while standing to the side.

When she was done, she went into the back and emerged ten seconds later holding a little Spider-Man plushie,

“I got it for Cas’ nephew’s birthday, but the party got postponed because he broke his arm or something. So I figured you would be the next best person, you know, with the whole Spider-Man boxers and shit,”

“Yeah,” James sighed. “You know about that too?”

“Of course, Sirius told me.”

“Right,” James mock-growled. “ Sirius. ”

“Anyways,” Marlene shoved the plushie into James’ chest. “Best superhero.”

James narrowed his eyes at her once again. “...Gee. Thanks.”

Ouch.

‘Best superhero’ his ass. Or maybe Spider-Man’s ass, if it gave James an excuse to look at it again. Not that he needed an excuse anyways. He would still do it.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

At roughly 7:00pm, James was back in the suit.

He couldn’t find Spidey, so he had to try and patrol alone.

Safe to say, he was bored as shit.

“Soo, what am I looking for again?” He muttered to himself. “Suspicious people, right, suspicious people. That guy looks suspicious, you reckon he’ll be mad if I ask him if he’s harbouring a deadly symbiote alien? Yeah, probably, you’re right. Anyways, that dude kinda looks suspicious too. Yeah,- oh wait, so does he. Why is she carrying her bag like that? Is Venom inside it? Okay, you’re going crazy. Who decided it was a good idea for me to patrol at night? Oh yeah, me. How does Spidey do this?”

While walking around, obviously not being spatially aware and swivelling around to try and look at everyone who passed, James was bound to walk directly into someone.

He wasn’t counting on walking directly into fucking Regulus Black.

“Ah- shit, sorry,” James reached down to pick up all the things Regulus had dropped.

James slowly looked back up to see Regulus standing, staring down at him.

“Well aren’t you gonna help?” James chuckled. “Usually in the romance movies the person who dropped the stuff also helps pick it up.”

“Well you walked into me , so.” Regulus shrugged.

James stood back up, holding everything Regulus had dropped in his hands - his messenger bag, a shit-ton of textbooks, a pack of gum, headphones, a pink BIC lighter with a bejewelled ‘P’ on it and… oh... his Daily Bugle ID.

James held up the ID to Regulus face, looking between them both. Where the ID had Regulus’ signature resting bitch face, the real-life Regulus was sporting an expression of… well… James didn’t exactly know what. His eyebrow was slightly raised and… oh, he was waiting for his shit back.

Other than the difference in expressions, they had the same features. (Not surprising, because they're the same fucking person James, you idiot.)

Raven black hair that curled around his forehead and just in front of his eyes and around the nape of his neck. 

Piercing blue-ish grey eyes that made James feel like he was doing something shittily and being judged (probably because he was) and a permanent slight downturn of his lips.

To be honest, James had never seen Regulus smile at anyone other than Sirius or a handful of his friends.

Even if he did, it was mostly that slightly downturned smile. James had hardly seen him grin.

The most important part was, in both the ID and in real life, Regulus was hot.

Like, hot .

Not that James had a crush on him or anything, that would be crazy. Sirius would never let either of them live it down anyways. 

James was good - even great - at appreciating others’ beauty. He did it with basically everyone he found even slightly enrapturing.

“Hello?” Regulus waved a hand in front of James’ mask, tilting his head sideways.

“Huh?” James was brought back from his internal monologue.

“Can I have my stuff back?”

“Say please first,” James offered him a lopsided grin he knew Regulus could see from outside the mask.

“Deadpool.” 

“Fine,” he relented, handing over the stuff. “Nice ID card, by the way.”

“...Thanks?” 

Regulus would’ve never said ‘thanks’ to James. *sigh*

James was trying desperately not to look down at how the hem of Regulus’ pants were soaked from rainwater puddles and how shiny his hair was when reflected in the bright neon lights in the dark.

“I’m so bored,” James groaned, desperately trying to keep the conversation going before Regulus kicks him in the dick and walks off.

“What’re you doing?” his eyebrow quirked, seeming at least a little interested. 

Point 1 - James Potter.

“Patrolling.”

“Patrolling for what?” Regulus was stuffing his (heavy ass) textbooks into his bag. (No but seriously. Those were fucking heavy. James was surprised that ickle Reggie Black could carry them with one hand.)

“You know, looking around for Venom. You know about him? Big, gooey, violent, alien symbiote, you know the sort. I’ve fought him a few times, it’s no biggie,” James scoffed self-assuredly, just barely resisting the urge to flex his arms.

“You shouldn’t be telling random civilians what you’re looking for. What if I was hosting the symbiote? Which I’m not, but still.” 

Point 1 - Regulus Black.

“Also,” he continued. “You shouldn’t be telling civilians if you’re bored or not. Shows your guard is down.”

Point 2 - Regulus Black.

“My guard is not down,” James scoffed.

“Really?” Regulus asked, nose slightly wrinkled in condescension. “If your guard wasn’t down would I be able to have this?” He held up one of James’ stink bomb grenades.

Point 3 - Regulus Bla- okay let’s stop.

“Wha- where did you get that from?” James’ eyes widened to the size of saucers, snatching the stink bomb back. “ When did you take that?” 

“Just now. When you weren’t paying attention.” Regulus shrugged, side-stepping around James and starting to walk off.

“Bye Regulus!” He waved excitedly to him.

He paused and turned around, raising an eyebrow at James.

“How do you know my name?” 

Oh shit.

“Uh… your… ID card, it has your name on it.” James prayed that it actually did and it wasn’t one of those cards that you scan and it shows up with all your details.

In all truthfulness, he was busy looking at the ID photo .

James rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, impulsively flexing and unflexing his arm.

“...Huh.” Regulus eyed his arm, turned back around and continued walking off.

James blew out a relieved breath, turning back around and trying to ignore the heat on his face from (once again) imagining the same guy who just insulted him in the shower.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

“Well well well, fancy seeing you here,” James remarked, spinning around in the spinny chair to face Spidey, who had just gotten on the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier.

“Fury told us to be here, you knew I was going to be here.” He replied flatly, taking a seat.

“...Oh. Well, still.”

Fury’s voice came in through James’ communication device thingy. 

“Deadpool, I swear, you better not be sitting in my chair when I get there.”

James grinned sheepishly. “Don’t worry, I’m not!”

He leaped on the table back-first, getting ready to scoot on it to another chair, when he heard a crack underneath his back.

“...That was the table, wasn’t it?” James stiffly slid into a chair next to Spider-Man.

“Deadpool!” Spider-Man reprimanded, swatting at James’ shoulder.

“You know, it would be much easier to say my real name. It’s one syllable.”

“Mine’s three.”

“Perfect for moans - or thrusts - between each syllable.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Fury walked in, sitting in the chair that had just been shaped to James’ butt and pulling up pictures from security cameras on the high-tech hologram thingy built into the table.

“Is that porn from the 70’s?” James squinted at the grainy and blurry photos.

Spidey nodded slightly leaning forward to get a better look at them. “You might be right, I think I see a tit- no, that’s a cigarette, no, wait, that’s a-”

“ That is recent security footage of Mr Brock and where Mr Brock is staying.” Fury interjected. “And since we know roughly where they are, we need you two to go scout them out. No contact.”

“...Still looks like a tit to me.”