he's a ten but he dresses in a leather-spandex combination + katanas and drinks a lot of strawberry nesquik
Erm, acshually? 🤓☝️
James was going to ask Spider-Man out on a date. Yup.
Preeetty embarrassing when he got met with an almost-friend zone.
But James was a determined guy.
He also knew this was a slash fic.
So he still had faith in their budding love.
So instead, James took Spider-Man out on a not-date to his favourite froyo place and talked to him about date-ly stuff.
He talked to him (squeal!) and conspired with him and all that shit. He watched Spider-Man from behind the mask with big eyes and allowed his eye (and dick) to twitch when Spider-Man licked the whipped cream from his spoon absentmindedly and James didn’t even pay attention to how he’d popped his shoulder (and elbow) (and wrist) (and ankle) (and- okay, you get it) back into place wrong and had to sit through burning joints because Spider-Man was being really fucking sexy with those sharp canines and the harsh fluorescent lighting of the shop making everything feel realer.
Because, if James was good at anything, it was this.
Wooing people.
In reality, it was more an elaborate personality scheme.
Because guess what? James was a yearner. Certified.
It was actually a problem.
His friends only knew the surface extent of it because they would put him in an institute if they found out about his affinity for obsessiveness.
Once James had a crush, he had a schedule.
Monday - Yearn
Tuesday - Long
Wednesday - Pine
Thursday - Taco Thursday
Friday - Thirst
Saturday - Ache
Sunday - Crave
But now that schedule was a full-year calendar decorated with spider emblems and every day had Spider-Man’s messy scrawl on it telling James to shut up accompanied with a cute huff.
Oh, shit.
“Did you say something? I wasn’t listening.” (Because he was too busy thinking about dat ass)
“Deadpool.” Spider-Man (cutely!) huffed, restarting. “You can’t freak out. At all. Okay?”
“Geez Louise Spidey, did you burst a pipe with your radioactive piss or something?” James snorted, leaning back in his chair.
“Um… you could say that…” Spider-Man looked behind him and fucking Eddie Brock emerged from behind a potted plant in the corner, the Venom head thingy protruding from his shoulder.
James stiffened subconsciously, hand inching towards his gun.
“He told you not to freak out!” Eddie yelped.
“I’m not freaked out, you’re freaked out!”
“Why are you holding your gun?”
“It’s… for emotional support.”
“Drop the gun, Deadpool.” Spider-Man sighed. James complied, because of course he did.
“So guys,” Eddie started cautiously, approaching the table carefully eyeing James’ hand still lingering on his gun holster. “I’m- we’re not here to hurt you or anything, -“ Venom emphasised that point from Eddie’s shoulder by baring his slobbery (could aliens slobber?) teeth in what could be a grin or a snarl. Either way, it was very cute. “-The note was from me, and I do need to tell you something mad important to your… mission or whatever. With conditions.”
“Blowjobs are on the table.” James nodded firmly.
“Deadpool.” Spidey warned.
“ What? The guy looks like Tom Hardy! Blowjobs were always on the table.”
“...Anyways,” Eddie continued. “First, you can’t take us to S.H.I.E.L.D and secondly, you can’t ask any probe-y questions.”
“...Fine.” Spider sighed after sharing a look with James.
Eddie pulled up a chair and sat backwards on it while Spider-Man sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest (*drool*).
“All I can currently say,” Eddie shifted around uncomfortably in his chair, looking around suspiciously. “Is that- no, I gotta tell them Vee, I-”
“If Venom needs to say something, he can say it out loud.” Spider-Man pointed lazily in Eddie/Venom’s direction.
“You hear that?” Eddie said to Venom before continuing. “All I can say is that this whole alien symbiote thing? We started it, but Venom isn’t the only symbiote. We’re being… well… not really controlled, but employed by this company that takes… samples of Venom. They’re basically formulating a formula and DNA sequence pattern thing - I really don’t know how that shit works, I’m a literal journalist - but you probably know all about the whole symbiote planet somewhere in space, and this company is trying to replicate that and maybe dish them out to humans?”
“Dish them out?” James raised an eyebrow.
“...Experiment.” Eddie said sheepishly.
And ooh, human experimentation really ruffled James’ feathers. It was probably a whole Weapon X subconscious response.
Or at least that’s what Lily told him, and she was the one doing a whole psych-medical degree.
“What I want to know is,” Spider-Man leaned forward on the table. “Why did you do it? Research tells us that you’re a pretty respectable guy - you feed homeless people, everyone who knows you likes you, pretty mild guy until it comes to your journalism. Why are you doing this?”
Eddie eyed them for a second silently.
“Probe-y question? Sorry,” Spider-Man rectified.
“Uh…” Eddie suddenly looked a bit more sheepish (if that was even possible, it was like this guy was responsible for the whole company). “Well, do you know how much rent in New York costs?”
“Are you for real?” James deadpanned. “They’re paying your rent?”
“Well… not exac-” Venom’s black veins crawled up through Eddie’s neck and changed his eyes to pure white, answering for him. “Yep. Rent and other amenities. Like… chocolate. And chickens.”
“ What? ”
“To be fair,” Venom made Eddie’s body shrug. “I did half-make him do this. He didn’t really want to, but I convinced him that you two and your super-power-bearing friends would stop this shit company.”
“Appreciate the confidence,” James stated dryly. “Even though accepting this for rent money- and… chickens?- Is really iconic.”
“So can you tell us anything else about this ‘company’?” Spidey asked.
“Nope.” Eddie turned back into himself, veins seeping down through his hoodie. “Already told you too much. If you see a lump floating in the river? That’s not ocean pollution, that’s my head. Well, same thing, really.”
A pause of quiet alarm.
“I-I’m kidding, guys. Ow!- Venom just yelled at me. Well, we’d better be going now.” He chuckled awkwardly before standing on the table. “I can’t be seen leaving the same way as you two, and I’m sure you can get S.H.I.E.L.D to cover costs, so I’m just gonna…”
He venomised a thick fist, black vines, moving him higher up before punching an Eddie-shaped hole in the ceiling.
What he didn’t know though, was that there was a block of apartment buildings right above the froyo shop.
And Eddie had just punched a hole into the bathroom of an old lady who often came down to eat with James.
Nice lady, too.
The high-pitched shriek that followed came from either Eddie or Mrs Figg, and James had his money on Eddie.
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
“-And then I looked down, and oh my god! It’s on fire! So I freaked out, and like, slapped the fire. With my hands. And then I was like OMG! Now my hands are on fire! So then I went right over to the toilet and stuck my hands i-”
“Sir. This is a Wendy’s.”
“Spides?” James gasped, stopping in his tracks. “Did you just make a pop culture reference? I was 94.68% sure you weren’t capable of doing that. Just Shakespeare and Greek mythology.”
“Okay, just because you said ‘Norman Bates’ and I said ‘Oedipus complex’ doesn’t mean-”
“Quick, Spidey! What’s 10 plus 9?”
“Shut up. Get on the helicarrier.”
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
“Deadpool. Do you happen to know anything about pen-shaped grenades left in my office?” Fury raised an eyebrow.
Well, it was his patched eye, so the patch just lifted up and down.
“Spider-Man!” James admonished. “How dare yo- yeah I did it.”
“Figured.” Fury sighed resignedly. “Anyways, we’re getting word of there being a… company that Mr Brock and Venom work for?”
“Not work for, per se. The company… uses resources from them .” Spider-Man nodded at his wording. “Yeah, using resources.”
“Well, we’ll get our best researchers on it because, as far as we know, this is going to become a huge problem.”
“Noice.” James nodded, squirming in his seat. “Sweet. Tight. Cool-cool-cool-cool-cool.”
“You want to get out of here, don’t you?”
“Yes please.”
“Well,” Fury sighed. “Go crazy.”
“He already is,” Spidey grumbled before getting dragged out of the meeting room by James.
Ten minutes later they were outside the helicarrier (against S.H.I.E.L.D’s wishes, but who actually listened to them?) and had continued walking through the streets.
“I have to study,” Spider-Man mumbled.
“Sucks for you, ‘cause we’re gonna-”James got cut off by some street artist calling out to them.
“Oi! You, geezers! Get over ‘ere!”
Spidey and James shared a confused look before walking over.
“Did you… need something Sir?” Spider-Man asked.
“Let me paint you two.” He stated bluntly. “I do caricatures, see? Well paying side-hustle.”
He flipped open a board to display at least ten pictures of Londoners (probably tourists, to be honest) as caricatures, with overdramatised features.
“Oh, we do have to be back at S.H.I.E.L.D soo…-”
“Shh, Spides,” James covered his mouth with his hand. “Come on, Nicky won’t mind if we get a sick portrait done.”
The guy doing the portraits nodded, batting his eyelashes.
“...Fine.” Spider-Man sighed.
“Yay!” James squealed exclaimed very masculine-ly. “Can we go back-to-back?”
“...Fine.” Spider-Man sighed again.
Okay, sue him, maybe it was just a ploy to get his ass to touch Spidey’s godlike ass.
But it was a very superhero-y pose, so props to him for quick thinking.
But of course, James’ big mouth couldn’t keep shut, so he had to unleash his master plan to Spidey ten minutes into posing.
“You know,” he stage-whispered. “Our butts are touching. Well, we aren’t fully ‘365, party girl, bumpin’ that’, ‘cause you’re a shorty.”
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
James cackled manically, keeling over and clutching his stomach while Spider-Man stood there, eyebrows raised in (delighted, probably) surprise.
“I love this!” James wheezed. “I-I’m keeping this fucking painting, my god Spides.”
“Yeah… yeah you do that.” He replied, voice faint.
They learned that the guy’s name was Weasel, to which James immediately said “See Spidey? No need to be insecure, you’re not the only household rodent around here.”
But to be fair, ‘Weasel’ was a weird alias, probably only used for reader fourth-wall-breaking enjoyment. Sigh.
The caricature, you ask?
Well it had the typical caricature shape - large heads and such. Their faces under their masks were sculpted to look a shit-ton like GigaChad faces, high botox-esque cheekbones and all, with James having massive ass Kim Kardashian lips you could see pouting from under the mask, and Spider-Man had those funnel-looking green Shrek ears protruding from his mask.
Comedic gold.
James would be chortling at that for the next few days at least.
“I love you,” James took the portrait, tucking it under his arm and throwing notes in Weasel’s way like a stripper as he and Spidey walked off.
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
“Sooo, it looks like we have just enough time to make love before we have to-” James was cut off by their communication devices beeping.
“Never mind,” Spidey said while James was making a show of dramatically cursing the skies.
After his final flourish, Spider-Man snorted at his antics.
Ooh, pretty snort.
“Are you coming?” Spider-Man turned around, James realising he was too busy thinking about Spidey’s snort?
Uh, ew.
James really wasn’t this sappy usually. (Yes he was)
“Oh, right,” he spurred into action and bounded after Spidey, making their way to the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier.
Once they were inside, a group of agents scattered from their stations, guiding them to a meeting room, where they sat at the end of a long meeting table.
Seemed like this damn helicarrier was full of them.
Like, literally. Was this a high-tech organisation HQ or a stanky stuffy airborne office building?
A few seconds later, Fury walked in holding an array of folders and loose-leaf papers (which makes no sense, because just put the papers in the folders? The concept of having folders and not using them properly is redundant and, in fact, bad writing to make it seem like Nick Fury is holding lots of information, which will also be incredibly unrealistic and inaccurate research-in-S.H.I.E.L.D-offices-wise.) (But what does James know? He dresses in a leather-spandex combination and has crushes on untouchable people for a living. He also drinks a lot of strawberry Nesquik.) and sits down at the head of the table, projecting one of those infamous holograms in front of them.
“Okay so, our S.H.I.E.L.D agents have been working tirelessly to figure out anything about what you two were told by Mr Brock, if the information is reliable at all-“
“It is.” Spider-Man confirmed firmly.
“…Okay then, your reliable information acquired from Mr Eddie Brock.”
Nick changes the hologram from the S.H.I.E.L.D logo to another logo. One James knew very well.
“The location of the abandoned warehouse Mr Brock supplied-” James didn’t know Eddie had ‘supplied them with a location’, but, in all fairness, he was probably too busy ogling Spidey to be paying attention. “-Has been traced back to activity with a famous intergenerational corporation, which I’m sure you both know about. Black Corp.”
James turned his head slightly to look at Spidey to gouge his reaction, but his back was shock-straight and he was staring holes into the hologram through his mask (physically impossible, but the intention is there).
James knew a lot about Black Corp.
Well, he knew what Sirius knew about Black Corp.
There was a reason why his (ex) family was so influential - from (‘)charity(‘) balls to famous actresses and actors harbouring the last name and successful businessmen and businesswomen: they were in it. Black Corp was in it. The Noble House of Black was in it.
They were rich and old money in all the way one could be rich and old money.
Except less tennis shoes and more abuse and illegal activities.
But honestly, tennis shoes? Those ugly motherfuckers were abuse.
Sirius was born into the business side of the Black name, less frivolous and scandalous in an adultery kinda way, but more legally illegal and scandalous in the making-money-crazy-fast kinda way.
Was it surprising that Black Corp had something to do with this science-y Venom testing shit? Upon first glance, yes. But if you really thought about it? No.
They had been dealing in illegal stocks and investments as soon as stocks and investments had meaning in society.
Any business-y illegal Kingpin type shit? The Black family was contributing to it in some way. They were just sleazy enough to not get involved too much and keep it under the radar for long enough.
Just like James trying to cover his boner while watching Mr and Mrs Smith with the guys.
“-So while our research was limited, our agents managed to narrow it down to a part of the currently living Black family tree where the links to the warehouse and Mr Brock and Venom could possibly be the strongest.”
Fury sent them both a glance that could either mean ‘brace yourselves’ or ‘my eyepatch is about to come off and I’m about to accidentally send red lasers in your direction’.
Then he changed the hologram from the Black Corp logo to a family tree, finished with photos and ages and everything.
It started from Walburger and Onion’s great grandparents and ended at… well… Sirius and Regulus. They were photos taken from probably their ID’s and drivers licenses.
Imagine how confusing it was for James to be blasted with photos of his bestest friend in the whole entire galaxy directly connected to his criminal family.
(Very confusing, for you apathetic folks at home.)
“Whoa,” James breathed out, looking at everybody on the tree.
He must admit, while the Black clan was incestuous and abusive, it was one mighty fine clan. Oof, under any other circumstances, James would be gaping and drooling.
“ Whoa, indeed.” Fury continued, standing up and gesturing to the different people, zooming in on different places. Spider-Man still hadn’t moved.
“Our main contention of focus is here,” he zoomed in on Sirius’ cousins’ side - Andromeda, Narcissa and Bellatrix. “This side of the family has recently conjoined forces with other old money families, with their youngest daughter, Narcissa Malfoy - née Black - recently being married to Lucius Malfoy, one of the heirs to the Malfoy fortune. Their union has also recently been officialised by the recent budding pregnancy of Narcissa.”
“She’s pregnant?” Spider-Man squeaked from next to James. The first words he’d said in a while.
“...Yes. She’s pregnant.” Fury responded, somewhat uncomfortably. Or maybe James was just projecting his shock onto Nicky-boy.
“Well, um,” Fury continued, moving the hologram family tree to focus on Sirius’ side. “Recently, the death of Walburga and Orion has their side of family inheritance - most of it, indicating a lack of Black family money on the sisters’ side - moved to their heir. What would’ve been their heir would be their oldest son, Sirius Black.-” James winces slightly. “-But ever since his disownment and emancipation, the fortune goes to Regulus Black, their next heir over.” James winced again. “Although he is still involved in the legal aspect of the finances, he has unofficially renounced any official title he would have as Head of the House of Black.”
Fury readjusted the map to cover the expanse of the suspected people. “Our main point is any new connections to the family - like the Malfoys.”
“Like… Lucifer?” James interrupted.
“No, fuckwit,” Spidey huffed. “It’s Lucius , not- well… actually… same thing. Continue.”
“Well, yes, Lucius is a contender. But, as much as it makes me uncomfortable to say this, I advise you two to keep an eye out for any - and by ‘any’ I mean any - Black family members that may be involved. Now I must leave, but I impart you with this knowledge: time can never mend the careless whispers of a good friend or acquaintance and to the heart and mind, ignorance is kind.”
And with that, Fury strided out of the meeting room.
“Did… he just-”
“Quote ‘Careless Whisper’? I think so.” James nodded.
“Um. Well. I’m beat. I’m gonna go sleep.” Spider-Man stood up, giving James a tentative wave before leaving.
And oh, it was totally a ‘hate to see you go, love to watch you walk away’ kinda moment.
James figured he would let the bomb dropped on him and Spidey fizzle for a bit until he felt his nose hairs twinge from the explosion threatening nearby. Metaphorically, of course. Unless those pen-shaped grenades actually went off again.
He grabbed a juice box from the minifridge in the meeting room, laying on top of the table with his mask halfway up so nobody saw him in all his brown boy beauty and immediately put his identity together. ('Tis the curse of being beautiful)
He grabbed his phone out of one of his pouches and slurped noisily on the juice box while looking through his messages.
the goddess who spawned me
JAMES! :D
KICKBOXING!🦵🥊🥊
**photo**
yoooo mum
thats sick
(pls dont beat me up)
Ha ha!🚒🏈🐮🏓
…
No promises.
James gaped like a fish for a few seconds before looking at his other messages.
baby boy webhead <333
hey dwnld this rq for me
**link - Download Life360: Find Family & Friends **
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
OKAY I GOT IT GEEZ
James, still slightly smiling, scrolled down on his messages.
It faded quickly when he came across Lily’s contact.
Another thing he hadn’t done other than clean his washing machine (apparently it gets really musty in there? A bit of an oxymoron, if you ask him) - he hadn’t told Lily about the kiss.
Or anyone.
It had honestly hurt his heart to not tell anybody, but he had to get his narrative straight (HA! STRAIGHT!) before he told Lily anything.
It was genuinely so hard (HA! HARD!) not telling anybody about his painful crush on that stupidly cute and grumpy twunk.
“Maximum effort,” James whispered to himself before pressing the ‘call’ button.