james would skewer and eat a pigeon if paid (or not)
Okay, James was not a creep.
Well, he was.
Bad starting line.
Okay this was a bad starting overall.
Start in the morning. Duh, timeline-reliable storytelling.
Way easier to read.
Okay guys! From the morning:
*crazy whooshy flashback noises*
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
“Tumble outta bed and I stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition and yawn and stretch and try to come to life
Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin’
Out on the streets, the traffic starts jumpin’
The folks like me on the job from nine-to-f–”
“FUCK!”
James woke up on his kitchen counter, a trail of blood behind him splattered on the wooden floor and his (new) alarm song blaring from his bedroom.
Oh, and a partially severed knee.
Gnarly day on the streets.
Also, Spidey wasn’t out on said gnarly streets for a few days. Occasionally, he had been, with James observing him from a distance, but he was patrolling significantly less.
James figured the whole Black Corp reveal had spooked Spidey, because, hell, seeing his bestest zesty bestie up there on the big holographic screen was pretty sobering.
James sat up, shifting uncomfortably on the now-cold marble and slammed his fist down on his knee to shove it back into place. Somewhat.
Then he stripped the Deadpool suit off, tucking it away in the back of his closet and walking around in just his boxers with ‘WEDNESDAY’ printed along the waistband. (It was not Wednesday.) (It had not been Wednesday for the past four days.)
He peered into his cabinets, looking for something to eat. His eyes landed on a singular apple sitting in the centre of his cabinet, the (uncharacteristic) sunrays bouncing off the waxy exterior. Honestly, would make an excellent film shot.
Take that, Wes Anderson.
James, now walking around his flat while eating his miracle apple, flopped down on the sofa.
And then stood up.
Then he walked over to his bed and sat down on the bed.
Then stood up.
Perhaps the floor’s better.
He sat on the floor.
Nope.
He couldn’t sit the fuck still.
Something was bothering him.
Oh- oh! The Great British Bake Off winner! Duh.
Oh. No. The people currently after him and his work crush. Yeah, that was probably it.
After all, Fury had told them to be careful about every Black family member.
James lit up and sprinted (skidded - there was still blood on the floor) across his flat to find his huge whiteboard.
He tugged it to stand in the middle of his flat, seemingly unbothered by the positioning of it, and grabbed a handful of My Little Pony plushies for him to ‘teach’.
He then uncapped a fresh(!) whiteboard marker and started writing ‘BLACK FAMILY TREE!!!’ in big bubble letters.
“Okay, children, listen up.” He started, pacing around. “I figured that the best way to go about this is to narrow down our options: starting with people we definitely know has no affiliation with the whole Venom-association. Okay?”
He wrote ‘SIRIUS BLACK - DIVA IS A FE MALE VERSION OF A HUSTLER’ under the tree, crossing it off immediately after writing it.
“Sirius Black? My best friend? Absolutely no affiliation. He doesn’t even talk to the family that much, and he just… wouldn’t do anything like that. I should know. He’s my best. Friend. But if we’re talking logically, he wouldn’t have the time to partake in any of the testing or orchestrate any attacks on Webhead and I.”
That was all the solid proof James had. Yes, pretty fucking pathetic, but it was something and someone who didn’t do anything.
So he proceeded to write down the names of everybody who was possibly involved. Not in family tree format, because that incestuous family was confusing as fuck .
It was just as confusing as when Sirius had first introduced them to it.
“...So yeah. My family’s really weird. Like, horny fanfiction level weird.” Sirius had admitted after telling them at the ripe age of 14 one late night in their dorm.
“Well,” Peter started, hanging upside down off the end of his bed. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve read.”
“What incestuous fanfiction worse than the Black family’s reality have you read?” James asked cautiously.
“...You ever watched the Loud House?”
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
James was cruisin’ around in his sweet ride, one of the cars that inspired James’ personal inspiration: Lightning McQueen, when an angel blinded him.
Okay, he hadn’t gotten into a car crash again.
He came face-to-window-to-face with one Regulus Black, whose beauty had blinded him.
He was pulled over at the curb looking on his phone and waiting for his favourite smoothie place to open up, when Regulus walked over to his car’s passenger side window (which was, admittedly, kind of illegally darkly tinted) and fixed his hair. -As if it needed fixing.
Again, James made the connection to Tom from 500 Days of Summer with the little nerd clothing. Yum.
He had a button up shirt on, a tie, slacks which were too baggy to be slacks , per se (and had a few holes haphazardly sewn with red thread), a zip-up hoodie and those little (big, but they still didn’t make him James’ height, so they were little) depressed gayboy Doc Martins on.
He was fixing the front of his hair, when James decided to subtly ruin his day by rolling down the window and grinning at him from the driver’s seat, mussing up his own hair.
“Well well well, look who we have here,” James smirked. Whoa, good going James, classic supervillain line.
“Shut up.” Regulus blushed(!) while rolling his eyes.
“You like the car? It’s a red Chevrolet Corvette C6 ZO6, if I recall correctly.” He was recalling it correctly. Sue him, he loved Lightning McQueen. “Search it up, for all the folks at home. You see how me-coded this car is?”
Truly, you see how him-coded that car was?
“No, I don’t like it.” Regulus stated bluntly. “It’s flashy and you’re bound to get mugged if you keep… just… rolling the window down this way and that.” His cheeks flushed again, making James positively giddy.
He loved people who blushed.
Lily used to blush in anger whenever James showed off (not his brightest moment, but he had always been a slut for blush), Spider-Man blushed (when James could see it when his mask was pulled up to the bridge of his nose) and now Regulus? James’ lucky day.
But then Regulus swivelled around and started to leave.
“No, wait!” James called after him, figuring that if Regulus killed him he’d still make it in time to drive to the smoothie place a few minutes before opening.
Regulus turned around, raising an eyebrow.
“Your hair looks good.” James cooed.
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
Obviously, after the initial afterglow of his interaction with Regulus wore off, he started thinking.
He nursed his smoothie while walking back to his car, thinking back to the whiteboard.
He hadn’t crossed off Regulus, had he?
His train of thought was interrupted when his phone buzzed with a notification from Twitter.
He opened it, deeming it useless and accidentally scrolled down, revealing a whole article that was probably everywhere else too published by the Daily Bugle.
Badmouthing Spider-Man.
It wasn’t the first time, and it definitely wasn’t the first time it made James’ blood boil, but this time it was… different.
It was targeted - and it wasn’t the usual propaganda that the other articles spewed.
James was yet to ask Spidey if he was okay - because face it, that shit was Not Like Us level diss.
James, inhaling sharply, pocketed his phone, slipping into his car.
He went back to the whole deal of checking Regulus off the ‘suspect list’, when he remembered where he worked.
The fucking Daily Bugle.
No… surely he wouldn’t?
James had to be sure.
James mumbled while he launched himself into his backseat to get the Deadpool suit he had stashed under the seat.
“Cross my dick and swear to balls this better not confirm anything, or else I’m dead…”
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
“Now let me welcome everybody to the wild, wild west
A state that’s untouchable like Elliot Ness
The track hits your eardrum like a slug to your chest
Pack a vest for your Jimmy in the city of ssss… ‘sup, little kid?” James trailed off, waving to a little kid who was staring in awe up at Deadpool.
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, grinning sheepishly up at the mum, who had heard the song , perhaps in her own days in California where she was doing a lot of that ‘bomb ass hemp’ .
He kept walking, seeing the reflection of the Daily Bugle office’s windows in the distance.
Once he got there, he stood in front of the spinny-merry-go-round doors, watching the overpaid reporters (not Mary though, love you Mary!!!!!!!) and underpaid journalists trickle through them and get checked in.
Key words? Checked in. (And ‘love you Mary!!!!!!!’)
James had no card, nor did he work there.
How was he to get in?
He settled on scary dog privileges.
He set his shoulders back - something that always made him look more scary in the Deadpool suit (if James does that as himself, apparently he just looked like a defensive golden retriever puppy) - and walked in through the spinny-merry-go-round doors.
He leaned on the receptionist desk, looking down at the unbothered lady smacking on her gum and looking down at her Instagram feed.
“I need to sign you in,” she drawled in a perfect Valley Girl accent, looking up at him through her massive fake lashes.
“Okay, hey, Angelica,-” he squinted at her nametag “- um, my name is Deadpool, you know, really good ass, h-eye-larious, Spider-Man’s honourary husband, ex- mercenary? Yeah, that one. Uh, look, I need to - just really quickly - go ask one of your employees something. Photographer? Yeah, that’s the one. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind?”
He wasn’t incredibly proud of it, but James flexed his arm where it was leaned his against the sleek, shiny black desk. Either for scare-factor or sexual appeal. Whichever Angelica was into.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Wait- really?”
“Yeah, sure, but I don’t wanna lose my job and I definitely don’t wanna go back to working at a bubble tea shop, so could you just gesture at me menacingly with your gun?”
James nodded, unholstering his gun and waving it at Angelica menacingly for the security cameras.
“Thank you so much, love.” He said, putting his gun back while still making it look like he was threatening her and walking to the lift.
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
James slipped into the lift at the last second, squishing himself in with Mary Macdonald (!), some weird douche-looking guy with orange skin almost as yellow as his blond hair and a meek photographer, tapping away with one hand at the ancient computer balanced on his other hand while tucked in the corner of the elevator, occasionally looking down at the camera slung around his neck.
“Deadpool?” Mary asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Miss Mary Macdonald! What’s a goddess like you doing in a shithole like this?” He grinned, waving over excitedly at her.
“You tell me,” she snorted, lightly waving back.
“Deadpool! You good ol’ chap!” The douchebag pushed his way past Mary to try and clap James on the shoulder. Didn’t work.
“...Do I know you?”
Mary snorted softly.
“Gilderoy Lockhart, at your service! You know, I’ve been told our humour is a lot alike.”
“Except for the fact we’re nothing alike at all?”
“Ha! Deadpool, you crack me up! Why haven’t we talked before?”
“Because I don’t talk to jackfruit at the grocery store. Which is what you look like. Is that where you got your nickname? Jackass?”
The lift dinged, and the photographer moved to get off.
“Well, this is me. Buh-bye Mary!” James waved excitedly at her again before strutting out of the lift.
James paused, looking around the initial space before realising he was meant to be stalkering.
He slid into a corner of the floor next to the lift with a vantage point of the whole room, searching for Regulus.
He spotted Regulus walking in from the lift doors. His walking slowed and he winced. Others wouldn’t notice it.
But James wasn’t ‘ others’.
Neither was Deadpool.
It was a slight twitch in the face, but he winced nonetheless.
He pulled his hood up over his head (aww, pretty hair gone) and walked over to a desk. He opened his computer but pulled out his phone, answering a call.
He was doing the whole Regulus Special™ - eye rolling, huffing, tongue in cheek while rolling eyes (a James Potter favourite: it was sexy), raised eyebrow, the whole ordeal.
Then he dialled somebody else on his phone and talked to them , smirking slightly.
Could it be somebody he’s affiliated with in Black Corp?
(Pleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesayno)
James decided to step in there, while Regulus was distracted on the phone. He stood in front of him, shielding Regulus’ eyes from the sun with his body - and the crease between his eyebrows smoothed out. Headache, perhaps?
“Deadpool.” He regarded nonchalantly, adjusting the hood on his head.
“What’s up, ID boy?” James sat cross-legged on the desk, so Regulus had to scoot his chair back slightly and look up at him. “I have a few questions for you.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled, looking down at his phone. Why was everybody at this office other than Douchebag Lockhart so indifferent?
“Uh, okay, first… do you know anything about that new article about my babygirl Spider-Man?”
“No.” Regulus looked up at him, seemingly telling the truth. “They used my photo though. Didn’t know anything about it.”
“Okay, that’s done with. Uh… weird question, but do you keep in contact with your family?”
“Fuck no.” Regulus answered immediately. “Well, other than my brother. And a few of my cousins.”
James reached into his pocket and flicked the switch on a weird contraption he had nicked from S.H.I.E.L.D - a flawless lie detector, apparently. Probably donated by Doctor Strange or something.
No buzz.
He was telling the truth.
Well, that’s one more name crossed off.
“Thanks pretty boy!” James reached under the hood and ruffled Regulus’ hair and didn’t get his hand chopped off - small victories.
Instead, he got a punch to the knee that was freakishly strong. But it set his knee back right! It really hurt walking on it, and James wasn’t a doctor.
But wasn’t Regulus studying to become one? He was doing a ‘doctor-something’ in school. A doctorate?
Was that even for becoming a doctor?
Bit on the nose, no?
“Aww, thanks Regulus!” James cooed. “You set my knee back right!”
“Yeah, I know,” Regulus wrinkled his nose. “I felt the bone under my fist.”
James looked at Regulus’ computer, tilting the screen so he could see.
“The fuck are you doing?” Regulus asked, trying to snatch the computer back.
“Nooothing,” James sang. “Wait, is that- do you have Tumblr open? Oh my god! Regulus Black is a Tumblr girlie!”
“ No I’m - did you remember my name from the ID card?”
“...Yes. Yes I did.”
Okay, no he didn’t.
But honestly, Regulus had talked to Deadpool - a literal ex-merc and superhero - more than he had talked to James, his brother’s platonic soulmate.
Pretty sad.
“Well, let me do you one better.” James started typing in the search bar. “You’re now following Deadpool’s official Tumblr account!”
“I’m going to unfollow you as soon as I get my computer back.”
“Well I guess I’m peeing on this. You’re never getting it back!”
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James had been kicked out of the Daily Bugle by both Regulus and his dickhead higher-ups, but he had gotten at least a month’s worth of spank bank material.
He headed down to the massive dildo looking building (the Gherkin, apparently) and sat his juicy ass down on a random park bench, pondering what to eat.
By the way, if you Google ‘gherkin’, make sure to tell others around you that you are not shopping for sex toys, because you will be bombarded with photos of gherkin pickles and the actual Gherkin.
As James was trying to see if he could walk as little as possible while still getting food that didn’t taste like dogshit, a massive pigeon landed in front of him.
Well…
Well…
No.
No.
James Fleamont Potter would not skewer and eat a pigeon.
God, was he drunk?
James shook his head to get the thought out before resuming his debate of Thai vs fish and chips.
Then a pigeon inched closer to him.
He side eyed the pigeon, before continuing again.
Then it chirped at him.
God, those stupid pigeons were really tempting him.
It chirped at him again, more insistent.
“Look, man, I would give you food if I had any, for fuck’s sake.” He huffed.
“Quite unnecessary, Deadpool.” A voice rang out from the pigeon.
“G-God?”
“No. Nicholas.”
“ Saint Nicholas? Santa!”
“I- no, Nick Fury.”
“Oh.” James deflated.
“Come to the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier.”
“Fine.” James huffed like a petulant child, noticing the red glint in the pigeon’s eye and the shinyness of its feathers.
So the birds were spying on them. Peter was right, even when drunk!
James, because he was the semi-adult equivalent of a sugar high petulant child, took his phone out before going to the helicarrier and opened Twitter.
deadpool_official @fr_deadpool_!!!
Batman: this has gone om for too long, release rhose hostages… NOW.
The Twinkler (Batman’s New Twink Themed Nemesis): hmm… let me Twink About it
_____Replies_____
outrostar⭐️ @zoe
oh!
goneforlong @ifnrs
Who let Deadpool into the vodka cooler this time
talkabtit @talkabtitw
TWINK? I THINK YOU MEAN TWUNK @the_real_spidey
EHZK @benzo
mans is getting realer everyday😩
passthemike @mike
when my friends tell me im too drunk to stay at the pub ill tell them a superhero said this and then went to fight crime
kjne @chroniclethis
@the_real_spidey
spiderman_official @the_real_spidey
TO EVERYONE WHO’S TAGGING ME… YOUR MUM’S A SLAG