Chapter 3
After another day of once again being the stress ball for Jameson's unprovoked tantrums as well as hours of dull patrols failed to be soothed by coffee, one might assume Peter Parker could finally rest.
That's where one would be wrong;
Peter doesn't know sleep and the bills don't know an end.
As the clock hit 6 PM the hero got ready for yet another minimum wage job as a pizza delivery man.
Before exiting through the creaking door Peter grabbed his wallet which revealed Deadpool's card upon opening.
He swept over it with his thumb like someone would when looking at a photo of their partner.
Although there was a dark red stain smeared on it, with enough squinting Peter could almost convince himself that it was red wine.
Definitely.
Deadpool the red wine enthusiast and nothing else.
And then his gaze fell onto the phone number.
He sighed audibly.
This phone number has been starring back at him for hours and Peter still couldn't build up the strength to actually contact it.
If he were to message Deadpool, the antihero would be able to contact him at any given moment. This would be an opener for an actual connection to another human being which at the same time could be ruined just as quickly.
Messaging Deadpool would also be a giant step into the unknown leaving Spider-Man potentially vulnerable.
Not to mention what the public would think about the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man getting close to a murderer.
The same Spider-Man who never swears or kills so kids could look up to the hero.
If Peter wants to make a human connection why choose someone that's barely humane?
This was all a mistake.
It's obviously blood and no wine.
...
Though on another glance at the object in his hand, he spotted the carefully hand-drawn image of a tiny Deadpool.
The smaller version held his two katanas upright, with a smile so wide the joy was able to be seen through the mask.
Peter couldn't help but think back to the generous food offering and the seemingly genuine excitement Deadpool had shown when giving Spider-Man his card.
He tapped the card twice...
and put it back into the wallet.
Wouldn't want to throw that away just yet.
~~~
Peter double-checked the order of two pizzas to verify the adress the final delivery of the night was requested to.
It could only confirm he was indeed at the right location.
A high complex of top class apartments wasn't his usual destination considering the comparably cheap restaurant he worked for but still, he wouldn't judge any rich person's eating habits thinking about the potential tip.
The brunett stepped into the elevator looking forward to the end of the day and finally being able to catch up with some well-earned sleep while letting his eye lids fall to calming elevator music.
Even the lift appeared to be fancier than his entire apartment.
A fittingly soothing ding announced the arrival at the correct floor and Peter walked out.
He made it to the door listed in the order form and knocked.
While waiting Peter let his gaze drift through his surroundings.
The hallway seemed just as pricy as the rest of the building;
Beige floor tiles that practically functioned as mirrors,
a matching wall whose colour screamed to have a name containing more letters than the longest word he'd ever heard, the carpet, the curtains, the windowsill and the flowers all in perfect harmony with one another.
The only thing incompatible was the doormat Peter was standing on.
A black background behind a red circle...
featuring two black patches...
in each a white eye.
Instantly the door bursts open and Peter was greeted by the same face he just saw underneath his feet.
Oh fuck.
~~~
"You can't imagine what I went through today!" Deadpool exclaimed loudly, letting the whole block know he apparentally had a shitty day, while dramatically leaning against the door frame.
Peter just stared at the whole situation unfolding in front of him. Did Deadpool somehow find out his identity and ordered him here to humor his side job?
Immediate regret flooded him.
He shouldn't have let his guard down around a mercenary that quickly.
"I'm glad they sent someone cute alteast. Say, what's your name, sweetheart?"
"Ugh, Peter."
While the compliment flattered him, Peter couldn't say he wasn't dissapointed Deadpool just flirted with anyone and Spider-Man wasn't anything special.
Luckily that thought soon got shoved aside by the relief Deadpool probably hasn't got anything figured out.
How would he even have done that anyway? Peter basically vanished from existence with that spell.
And additionally witnessed first hand on how good of a spell that was.
"You are not much of a talker, huh?"
Peter shook his head softly giggling inside. If only Deadpool knew in front of him was the very hero who was known for never shutting up.
Though he figured compared to the merc with a mouth, even Spider-Man seemed mute.
"Well, Petey, I hope you like pizza. Got that second one just for you," the whites of his eyes formed to thin lines as he pointed to one of the boxes in Peter's arms.
Peter's brows furrowed and he declined the offer with a forced smile:
"I'm really not that hungry... and besides, you paid for it. I should probably go anyway," he pointed towards the elevator.
Peter really didn't want to enter Deadpool's apartment. Who knows what ulterior motive he had. And unlike his alter ego, Peter isn't loved by the mercenary. He might even be on this guy's target list for delivering the wrong pizza to someone for all he knows.
"Oh come on Petey! I got money like I got bitches! Also don't you wanna comfort a poor man that just got stood up?" he pretended to wipe away tears.
Well, worst case scenario he might have to rely on his spider-sense. Luckily he can't claim to not enjoy Deadpool's presence anyway.
"Alright, alright, I'll stay."