Chapter 1
Peter swung into the open window of his apartment, all but flinging himself straight into the wall with all of the inertia of the action. Taking a step back blearily, he lamented the small space of the apartment he called home.
It was one of the many small, shitty, hole-in-the-wall places that he had chose to live in due to affordability. Unfortunately, the general space and amenities that Peter enjoyed from a proper living space were often cut: super unimportant things like water, heating, and enough breathable space to move without hitting a wall while turning in for the night--you know, the normal stuff.
Peter stepped back from the wall and sighed. He stripped the mask off of his face, throwing it haphazardly onto the floor. It had been a rough night with non-stop burglaries, assaults, and one instance of an escaped superpowered prisoner lurking the streets and wreaking absolute havoc on nearby cars, busses, etc. It was going to be a really rude awakening for many citizens to find their cars pulverized with indents of comically large fists, but that was the insurances' problem as far as Peter was concerned.
Of course this meant that, like those cars, Peter too was thrown around and beaten with superhuman strength and he was tuckered out. All he wanted to do was to curl up in his shitty little bed, in his shitty little room, for some good ol' spider sleep.
However, life could never be so good to Peter.
It was winter, which meant that Peter's stupidly good and stupidly inconvenient powers allowed for little to no rest. He found that if he got too cold, Peter would settle down for a very very long nap and not wake up until 5 days later, hungry and bombarded by worried calls from friends and angry calls from work. So during colder months in the city, Peter found every way to keep himself moving and warm.
Whether it was a night shift at another job, more hours of crime fighting, or simply jogging until his legs felt like jelly, Peter found as many ways as possible to sleep as little as possible.
Of course, this could have absolutely NO consequences whatsoever... Right?
Peter swung through the streets, stopping when he noticed a certain red mercenary walking through an alley with suspicious red footprints trailing him. Not willing to stop and lose momentum, Peter intentionally swung past so that Wade could see him, and then settled on the rooftop nearby. It was something that was unsaid between the two of them: whenever they found each other on the streets, they usually would then patrol together. Peter rationalized hanging out with a murderous mercenary by thinking of it as keeping each other safe and keeping Deadpool from killing people. Really, a win-win for one spider-themed superhero.
Pretending not to hear the scrapes and scuttles of the larger man attempting to climb his way up a fire escape with two katanas in hand, Peter turned to the city skyline and stared, zoning out. It was hard to keep focused nowadays, with all of the not-sleep he's been getting. Sometimes even taking a second to breathe felt like he was wasting energy, energy that could be spent heating his body. Peter felt like a shark: he had to keep moving or risk getting too cold. He probably should invest in insulation for his suit, but even thinking about doing so made Peter tired.
"Spidey! Baby boy! My itsy bitsy-" Wade threw himself onto the rooftop with an oomph- falling comically flat on his face before peeling himself up and carrying on, "my little bundle of spiders- ... Is that good? Does that name land?"
"Nope," Peter answered. "Sounds less like a pet name and more like a terrible Christmas present."
"Aww, you obviously don't have fun Christmases, then." Wade replied, somehow wiggling his eyebrows beneath the mask. He then launches into a story about a gift exchange that turned nasty after someone put 3 live rats in one of the gifts, or something along those lines. Peter listened diligently for a few seconds before promptly spacing out when his ranting moved onto the cleanliness of New York city streets. All Peter could think about was the longing for just 15 minutes of shut eye. That probably wouldn't hurt, right? He could set an alarm to wake him up after a quick power nap and get back to crime fighting; god knows he was hardly in peak condition to fight baddies.
Peter only realized Wade had stopped talking when the man had cut himself off abruptly, standing to look at Peter. Wade stood eerily quiet, cocking his head to the left and squinting at Peter through the leather mask. Peter felt an itch of worry travel up his spine: Deadpool was never quiet, not unless something serious was afoot or he was dead, which happened a lot, but didn't last for long. (A notable exception was for when his favorite show didn't get renewed for another season and Wade refused to say a single word until the night ended at his apartment, where he then cried to Peter about plot holes, or something.)
"Is there something on my face?" Peter quipped, laughing weakly at his poor attempt at a mask joke.
Seemingly not amused, Wade proceeded to circle around the smaller man, quietly studying Peter while humming. Peter allowed him to do so due to the fact that it was Deadpool, who, notably, did weird shit all of the time with little explanation.
"No siree," Wade murmured, "I know I'm usually crazy, but not on this...."
"DP?" Peter answered anxiously, now shying away from the careful inspection that Wade was carrying out.
All of a sudden, Wade snapped his fingers and made a sound of confirmation. "I've got it!"
Peter felt more worry crawl through his nerves and did his best to sound unaffected. "Okay, I'll bite. What did you figure out?"
"Yoouuuuuu-" Wade stretched the syllables out while walking closer, "are WAY too tired to be out tonight. I mean, you look like a baby fawn taking it's first steps in the spring; you are in no way able to be out tonight, baby boy--Dr. Pool's express order!"
Peter walked backwards away from the prying mercenary and put his hands up in a placating gesture. "Woah! I have no idea what you are talking about!"
"I think you do," Wade countered, still pushing him closer to the wall--when was there a wall there??!!--and pointed a accusing finger at his chest,
Peter was, in this moment, reminded of the... relationship that he and Deadpool shared. At first, it was antagonistic fighting, in which Wade would dance circles around him while Peter demanded Deadpool clean up his act. Then, it was the constant pestering (and flirting) that Deadpool subjected him to; Peter would go to a favorite rooftop of his to take a break and boom--there was the mercenary, clad in leather and incredibly annoying.
Then, after a while, it became common to see Deadpool while patrolling, and he had even joined Peter for a few nights. Of course, Peter made the man swear up and down that he wouldn't kill or brutally maim anyone during said patrols, but things were pretty friendly after that. They ended up spending... a lot of time together. Peter wouldn't call it 'hanging out' per say, but if Wade happened to buy him takeout and they would chat on rooftops until morning, who was Peter to not take up the offer of real human connection?
But, there was a more pressing problem that had Peter, well, very grateful for the mask: Wade's constant flirting.
When they were adversaries, Peter wasn't taking any of it really to heart, or letting it get to him. He simply tuned it out as mindless, psychological banter that was an effort to throw him off of his game. But, after they had become regular acquaintances, and, dare Peter Parker say it: friends--the flirting got a little harder to ignore. Constantly hearing Wade unabashedly gush about Peter's body and his brain and his 'tight ass', could anyone blame him for getting a little flustered? The mask helped conceal the full-body blush that Peter sported from all of Deadpool's compliments, but his stupid mouth and stammering often gave his embarrassment away to the ever observant merc.
And maybe, just slightly, Peter had developed a one-sided crush on one Wade Wilson.
Not that he would ever tell the other man that in a million years.
A supervillain would have to douse Peter in truth serum before anyone ever got that information out of him.
...
Where was he again?
Snapping back to reality after Wade marched closer, the spider focused on the predicament at hand. "Okay, okay-" Peter whined, back hitting the cold concrete, "Yeah, I'm a little tired, okay? You try juggling two jobs and a vigilante career!"
Peter felt the cold of the concrete wall permeating through his suit and started internally panicking, moving closer to Wade, who, upon closer inspection, was absolutely radiating heat from his body. Peter found himself leaning closer, the basest part of his mind driving him to get closer and closer to that heat.
He had to get warm. Wade was warm. Practically an oven. It wouldn't hurt to get closer.
"Spidey."
Maybe a little closer.
"Yeah?" he responded blearily.
"Now don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to what is happening and I'll probably mentally relive this moment every time I'm alone. In fact, I am extremely not opposed to what it happening right now and would absolutely love it in any other circumstance-" Peter was barely listening to a word that Wade was saying. All he could think of was the amazing heat that was surrounding him, protecting him from the harsh elements.
He tuned back in at the right time to hear Wade say: "but you ARE starting to worry me because the Webs that I know would, never, in no right mind, be hugging me right now."
...
Peter processed the words a little late, coming back to reality and realizing that he was, indeed, hugging Deadpool. The Merc with the Mouth. The one and only. Wade Wilson.
He honest-to-god shrieked and peeled himself off of the larger man, slipping under his arms and out into the open air away from Wade, away from his heat.
The arachnid part of his brain mourned the loss of heat source, but the human part of his brain was cursing his situation in multiple different languages.
"OOKAY, something is definitely off with you," Wade alleged, still holding his arms out with a shell-shocked expression molded onto his face. "Although I can say that I'm a little offended that my super-hot sexy idol hated hugging me so much-"
"No! I mean, I didn't hate hugging you! I mean, I don't love hugging you more than the average amount!! I also didn't- ugh" Peter grimaced, running his hand over his head in a nervous movement. He's never going to live this down, ever. Every chance of ever pursuing any sort of romantic relationship--n-not that he'd want to!!--was down the drain. "Listen, uh, maybe you're right. I might be just a little bit tired-"
"A little?" Wade needled.
"Okay, a lot." Peter deadpanned, looking unamused. "But I can't just, not go out on patrol. I miss one night sick or injured and then someone gets seriously hurt. I can't- not do this." He gestured around and at his suit aimlessly.
Wade stilled for a moment, "... That is- a lot of responsibility, baby boy. But, I'm here, aren't I? I can just finish your normal patrol for you and you can march your perfect ass back home for a nap!" Humor returned to his voice and he regained his normal friendly attitude.
"I-" Peter sighs tiredly. A nap does sound so so nice. "I can't ask you to do that, Pool."
"Ah! It's a good thing I offered to do it! Checkmate! I love loopholes!" Wade pumped his fist in the air.
Peter briefly considered telling Deadpool why exactly he couldn't just go home and catch up on some z's, but another part of Peter realized that today was already too mortifying and spilling some of his spider biology quirks to Wade sounded dreadful.
So, sparing himself the torture, Peter just stumbled out an unconvincing agreement: "Yeah, okay..."
Wade frowned, if possible through the mask, and tsked. "Now," he started reproachfully, "why does it sound like you're lying to good ol' Pool right now?"
"I-I'm not!" Peter exasperatingly threw his hands up in the air. "I'm leaving now, okay?"
"Okay."
"Why won't you-" Peter paused. "You're just, letting it go like that?" He knew he was digging himself a grave right now, but Peter Parker never really developed the brain to mouth filter like everybody else did.
"Yup." Wade popped the 'p', his stature slouching ever so slightly.
"Huh." Peter dumbly responded.
Wade hummed in agreement, "Well, someone has to keep the plot moving forward."
Ignoring that comment, the spider squinted at the larger man. "And you aren't going to stalk me to my apartment or anything like that?"
"Ouch, Webs" Wade mimed a knife going into his stomach. "I'm sad you think so little of me."
"O-okay, then," Peter murmured awkwardly. Giving a little wave while webbing up to a different building, he spoke one last: "Later!" and swung into the night.
Of course, Peter wasn't stupid, so he did take many detours and turns in the city to make sure the mercenary wasn't going back on his word. However, once satisfied with his roundaboutness, he changed into civilian clothes and left his apartment for a jog.
Afterall, Deadpool may have ordered Spiderman to bed, but he didn't request the same of Peter Parker.
Almost immediately after turning off of his street, his shoe caught on uneven pavement and Peter ate floor. Hard.
...
Peter sighed.
This was going to be a long night.