Double Dipping

New York. A city like no other. Some would call it ‘ugly’ or “dirty”, but where else could you find some fusion cuisine of any culture? See a New York rat- yes, they're different from the regular ones, and a squirrel squabble over a chicken nugget in the middle of the sidewalk? The congestion of humans bustling to and fro, surely for someone else’s very important business. Blazers and button-up shirts rushing to get coffee for their boss, who’s going to be late for that meeting anyway because he’s elbow-deep in some mistress on lunch break. Man, what would it be like to be the king of the hill? This disgusting spectacle of a city was Deadpool’s home now and he would not change it for anything, frequently indulging in the fancy of all the possibilities awaiting him.   

Let’s also not forget about that skyline. Mwuah~

A fella could make a whole new start here. Being in a city as big and magical as New York could make you think that anything was possible. Deadpool glided over the asphalt under his feet, raising his knees and elbows high in jolly strides. The blues of his lost memories were fading, and more than ever, his mischievous nature was getting the best of him. Making friends-

And enemies, don’t forget about enemies.

Ahem- Making new friends wherever he went. Reconnecting with old ones, being the best dad he could be for Ellie before she mustered all that teenage angst and probably tried to kill him. And, of course, the man that had been there for Deadpool. 

It was Spider-Man who was there through those hard nights, joining him on late night patrols when it was difficult to sleep. Seemingly reluctant to fill in the laps of memories when Deadpool could not recall them. Deadpool tried to not show it but it was something he depended on, even though the words that came with it could melt in his hands. Even with all the sympathy Deadpool received, he could feel Spider-Man was holding back. Perceivable, though not pronounced. He could see it in the way Spider-Man stilled, thinking and how he would slow his words tight and somberly, if he spoke at all. The frustration in his shoulders when he made a joke Deadpool did not understand. Unable to retrieve as to why it was funny. It would remind him that they were two strangers again. The sudden detachment Spider-Man would make was a suffering that tore straight through Deadpool. Even more so not being able to fix it. Though, with the support and disappointments, one thing was a fact, Spider-Man still saw something in Deadpool, and whatever it was, it was the privilege that bound them together. 

As easy as a coin flip, Deadpool could see Spider-Man light up to him again. Deadpool grinned thinking about their bickering when Spider-Man’s blood got heated, tensing his arms and moving in exasperated movements. Or the inviting way Spidey moved his neck slightly, stealing little glances, even exchanging a few. Deadpool almost wanted to believe the looks were more than just check-ins, especially when those eyes lingered. It was the same look they would exchange when the night was threatening dawn, but neither of them wanted it to end yet.  During those moments, Deadpool’s disposition toward Spidey did not seem so impossible, as if it was right in his grasp. If he could only say the right words in the right way, but every time he thought he could, when he thought he would, it never did. That icy exterior from Spider-Man froze the air and left Deadpool with disappointment and wanting the passionate man he knew he could be. 

Riding the highs and drowning in the lows of loving him, Deadpool was thrilled and horrified in every second of it. Spider-Man was a constant thought, always behind his eyes when he closed them. The boundary of friendship between them was a solus where all Deadpool could do was weep from the zone of unrequited passions. 

Even still, Deadpool’s legs shook, knowing that being this close to Spidey was a dream come true. Patrolling was something to look forward to, great and all, but was the most difficult and fulfilling venture Deadpool had ever attempted to live. Proving his dedication by saving cats from trees, helping the elderly cross the street, and stopping a mob boss or two. On top of their crime stopping, Deadpool counted every time he and Spider-Man met at the same spots, how long it took for Spidey to text him back, when the nights turned too late and the exhaustion would hit. Deadpool proclaimed to be a gentleman for Spider-Man to come back to his pace for some Z’s. Taking the couch and everything. He never did.

Just as Deadpool was fixated on learning from Spider-man, his partner was just as determined to work with him too. Even with all the commanding and yelling and berating-

Feisty, rawr.

He’s got spunk.

The exposition is almost done. Stop interrupting. Please. 

Anyway, the way they bickered made Deadpool feel like they already knew each other more than he could ever imagine-

Intimately? Sexually? Please say sexually.

Can I tell the story, or do you want to?

…

Alright, now where was I? A-hem. As if they already had a powerful connection that was lost to a time Deadpool had accepted that he was never going to get back. All Deadpool wanted was to be a friend to Spidey. Be beloved as him. And if possible- no, no. That was something Spider-Man declined again and again, and eventually Deadpool decided it was off-limits. Spider-Man was something too precious to corrupt. To have those big expressionless eyes upon him and deliver favor, how Deadpool lived for those moments. Having Spider-Man through these last few months has been a blessing. Though he fought against the urges that told him to act or say anything that was true to his heart, that would possibly create something worthwhile. Fear of Spider-Man’s rejection was the only thing he could recognize. Yet somehow, he never tried to stop or change his feelings, caught in the phases of their friendship. Looking for unrequited affection at the bottom of a bottle that turned into many just to bury it all for a moment. Deadpool did not want to defile the refuge he found in Spider-Man. Surviving on their teamwork, praises, and occasional flirtations with gestures that could be taken as affection. It was not fulfilling, but it was enough, and that enough was everything to him. It was part of their routine, something Deadpool could count on. Their banter, their duet. God, Deadpool wanted to do “it” with Spider-Man so bad, and every restriction he placed on himself was torture. Deadpool knew he would lose Spider-Man if he seriously tried, and that could not be a possibility. It would be the end for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The night had been slow, but Deadpool did not mind. He enjoyed Spider-Man giving him a hard time about how dated his quips were. The back and forth fueled Deadpool with contentment. A lull in the conversation prompted Spider-Man to check out the street below from the edge of the tall building, returning to Deadpool with a cautious tone and slight in his neck, 

“Erm, so, how’s Ellie?”

“Oh,” Deadpool scratched the back of his head. Spider-Man never brought up his personal life unless he had already done so. “She’s good. You know, into all that preteen stuff, these days. K-Pop boys, homework, the works.”

“Ah, sweet kid.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky. She got all the good parts.” Deadpool praised somberly, suddenly thinking about her. Acknowledging the time he did not remember her, breaking his heart radically and quietly.

Spidey leaned close to Deadpool, a touch to his back that traveled to a comforting grip to his shoulder, lingering the hand there for a moment that left all too soon. “Plenty of those are from you, Wade.” 

Segwaying , “She’s been asking when Uncle Spidey is coming around again.” Deadpool inquired expectantly. 

Spider-Man let out a small chuckle, a sound he was excited to hear. “‘Uncle Spidey’, huh? Sounds like it’s time for another game night soon.”

“Right! She’d like that. Though we’re into Yu-Gi-Oh now, you’ll need to brush up on the rules, unless you're ready to get your ass handed to you.”

“I’m a quick study! When I figure it all out, I’ll make sure to go easy on you two.”

“Hmph! Well, you better do it fast cause who knows how much time I’ll have once I’m famous. You’re talking to a future celebrity here!” Deapool saud, puffing out his chest.

Spider-Man made a disapproving sigh, “I really wish you weren’t doing that. Making money by being popular is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Deadpool hated to disappoint Spider-Man, but doing this upcoming interview could be an opportunity to open doors. “Think of the favors, spin-offs, oho- movie deals, the merch! Ah, the merch.” Dollar signs cha-chinged past Deadpool’s eyes, imagining all the funds to supply his arsenal, spontaneous and exotic trips, keeping his apartment. Cash was not flowing in like it used to, the life of being a so-called hero.

“Yeah, right, the money.”

Ultimately, it was not just about the potential of money, but proof for everyone he knew, all who mattered at least. Spider-Man most of all. To show was on the path of righteousness, most of the time, and that he had turned over a new leaf.

“Yeah. The money.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It did not feel right being alone after patrolling with Spider-Man. It was like coming off stage and still looking for the adrenaline after the show. The crash was debilitating.

Scrolling through the cracked screen of his phone, Deadpool sent a straightforward bubble to a name he had not thought about since one of the last world-ending events, conveniently with a purple witch hat next to it. The barrier Spider-Man built made it clear that Deadpool had no chance, and that was okay, but there had to be another way to find relief from the incessant thoughts and fascinations of Spider-Man infiltrating his mind day in and day out. Thoughts of him kept Deadpool from sleeping, staying up to fantasize, just another few moments to think about what it would be like to be more than friends. He was waiting for a day that would never come. There had to be a way to suppress these desires before he did something he would regret. All he could think about was when he would see Spider-Man again. If this would be the time, Spider-Man would see him for what he had been making himself out to be, more than a deadbeat dad who committed crimes and murders to make a paycheck. He could not deny he had enjoyed it. The mayhem and macabre of his past profession, though giving it up had been a worthy sacrifice for Spider-Man’s favor. There was nothing quite compared to galavanting around this city with his favoritest boy. If there was magic here, he was finding it in Spider-Man.

In the weight of all of these thoughts, Weasel clanged a glass of brown liquor in front of Deadpool just in time to break the spell of endearment for his spider. Weasel grunted at Deadpool in a way that indicated ‘unimpressed’ with Dedpool’s disposition. Thanks bro. Deadpool grunting back, picking up his glass and dancing the small ice cube with half-hearted tilts before gulping the liquid down in one swig. His third one, and it still did not even tingle. Another unfulfilling routine he found himself in.

An arch of light violently appeared in the corner of the dimly lit bar, filling the space from ceiling to floor, brilliant luminosity formed in an oblong as two young women jumped through it, posing in preparation to attack and be attacked. One shrimpish edge-lording a staff in her hand while the blond intimidated the room with a large sword. Alert and surveying their surroundings, patrons stared back at the women idly in mid-swigs and raised eyebrows before aiming guns of all types in their direction. 

“Oh, hi!” Called out Deadpool from the bar in an excited high-pitch, gesturing to the new arrivals with his fingers. “Hey, hey! These are my friends!” 

The young woman with the staff looked around the bar before making eye contact with Deadpool, who was continuing to wave fruitfully. “Deadpool! You texted it was an emergency! In all caps and like a million exclamation marks, the hell?” 

“Oh, it is, and you are my only hope!” This must be Nico, somehow he knew he trusted that collection of emojis next to her name. In a lower voice, Deadpool cupped a hand next to his mouth, speaking at the same volume. “But it would probably be better if we talked somewhere more private. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Yes, please take him,” Weasel commented, waving his hand as if to sweep Deadpool away.

Relaxing her stance, the witch, Nico, sighed deeply. “Seriously? Fine, let’s go to The Abbey.” 

Deadpool enthusiastically jumped from the stool and walked through the portal after them.

“Later!” He finger-gunned to the bar patrons. “Magical adventure, no biggie.”

The sword-wielder clicked her tongue. “Told you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“You need me to do what?” Nico asked, dismayed.

“Can you do it? Please say, yes. Dr. Spooky isn’t returning my calls, and I’m running out of options.” Deadpool pleaded.

“You want me to help you control your dreams?” Nico questioned skeptically.

“Pretty much.”

“Why? Is there an entity invading your subconscious or, oh, being haunted by Freddy Krueger?” Nico said, wriggling her fingers in an attempt to be creepy.

“Hmm, is that a dig? I don’t appreciate it!” Deadpool commented, hiding hurt behind a faint of whimsy. “More like I need dreams. Certain ones.” He confirmed.

Nico shook her head irritatedly. Deadpool could see her roll her eyes behind closed lids. “Okay, but I’m gonna need more details about what you’re trying to evoke.”

“Well…” Deadpool looked around the room. It was just him and Nico. Illiana was propped on one of the couches, thumbing a phone. He leaned closer to Nico, who copied his posture to hear him. “Spider-Man.” He said.

Nico stared widely at him. “Spider-Man?” Her eyes went from Deadpool to Illiana. “Like, our Spider-Man? Blue and red pajamas with all the agility of a spider, Spider-Man?”

“Is there another one?” Deadpool perked at the thought of many different Spidey’s existing somewhere. Maybe he would be able to get out of the friend zone with at least one of them.

“You want Pe-”

“Shhhhhut-up!” Illiana interrupted.

“I mean, Spider-Man, in your dreams?” Nico quickly coughed through her correction.

“Yeah, pretty much exactly that,” Deadpool confirmed.

“So you’re telling me, you texted ‘CRISIS’, ‘EMERGENCY’ because you want to have dreams about Spider-Man ? Did I get that right?”

“It is an emergency! I have been trying for weeks to get Spidey in one of my dreams, but no, just the same boring wetting myself in public and teeth falling out, if I get any sleep at all. I’m desperate!” Deadpool pressed his palms together with an audible clap. “Please!”

Nico rolled her eyes hard enough to complete a full rotation into the back of her head. Deadpool peeked an eye at her, worried she would decline, but he held steady. “I should…be able to help you.” Nico reluctantly agreed.

“Yes!” Deadpool tensed a fist above his head before bringing it down in victory. 

“I really don’t want to ask, but I need to know why . Aren’t you guys a team these days? Why do you need to dream about him?”

“First of all, don’t call it a team-up.” Deadpool winked at the reader. “Second, there are plenty of things I can do in dreams that I’m not allowed to do in real life. Many of those things involve my main man Spidey.” Nico squinted toward Deadpool in frustration. “Alright, alright, you know, just see him and be with him. Pretend like I know him…more than any Joe that reads the articles. Do things he likes, and that I would like to do. Maybe even do a little !@#$. But not just any !@#$. A good long bangin’sess-”

“Riiiiight, but I don’t do love spells, Wade.” Deadpool observed Nico become frustrated yet more relaxed as she spoke. “The backfires from them are far more devastating than you would ever intend to happen.”

“No, no. Not a love spell, just dreams.”

“How pathetic,” Illiana commented coldly, leaving the room supposedly in an embarrassed disapproval.

“Aw, Wade,” Nico let her hands down from her hips. “You like Spidey. Like, like-like him. Adorable.” Nico’s eyes grew sad and direct, “How much do you remember being here?” She asked. 

Deadpool looked around the common room as if trying to find an answer in the back of his mind that only drew up a slight pain and even more of a disappointment as a broken void of vague images out of order came to mind. “Why don’t you just ask him out or something?” Nico redirected. “On a date. A real date. Not a beating-up bad guys kind of date. You don’t need magic for that.”

“Oh, sweet, darling little Nico, I wouldn’t do that to my Spidey. Besides, if it were gonna happen, it would have happened by now. There are plenty of reasons why Spidey’s not interested in me like that. I mean, I’m not even interested in me. So, I’m looking for the next best thing.”

Nico did not respond for a long moment, not typical of her nature, and the look of pity she expressed struck Deadpool more than he appreciated. He expectantly followed her to the library, pondering over bookcase to withdraw a small tome, in thought, she peered over the script deep before looking up at Deadpool, she asked, “How much time do you have?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Nico said the potion was going to take some time to craft, and Deadpool decided to text Spider-Man that he would be missing their patrol tonight. This was important business, after all.

While waiting for Nico to put her craft in motion, Deadpool searched his old room. It had been mostly untouched by the debris of his inhabitance, though there were still custom-made bombs with his logo and miscellaneous ammunitions. He did not remember any of it, and it frustrated him. Pings of regret filtered into him. He had not just been here, he had lived here with a trusted group, with Spider-Man. He could sense a connection, but it was accompanied with pain of unclear visions. Exiting in the common room, training in the yard, eating constantly, he was constipated just seeing all the cheese. Seeing the ancient home in person was more than Spidey would ever tell him. He never did. 

Pulling open a dresser drawer, Deadpool brought out a brightly colored rainbow shirt, tie dye, with a unicorn at the center. He would be here a while, and he recalled how much the player of this save file loved this outfit. And even though Deadpool felt uncomfortable removing his suit, Spider-Man had been here with them, seen him in this comfortable garb, and been around good company. Finally, deciding to take off his suit, he set his gear next to the bed and pulled on the shirt and jeans. Casual, comfy. While changing his clothes, Wade heard a piece of small metal fall to the floor. It rolled under the dresser, and he had to bend awkwardly to retrieve it. Once it was in his fingers, it was definitely small but recognizable. A web cartridge. He tilted it in his fingers before shoving it in his pocket.

Returning to the common area, Wade’s heart was racing, and his body was shaking with anxiety, not that he would let it show. His skin was the way it was, and there was nothing he could do about it, but the two young women of The Abby did not give him a second look. Wade was cautious to watch for strange looks, but he was relieved by the inattention they gave. After making himself a drink at the bar, Nico invited him to play a round of ‘video games’. He could feel their relationship level rise slightly as time began to pass by. She defeated him several times in a row, which did not make sense as Wade was the best, and this game was one of skill. She was definitely cheating, somehow. The brewing of the potion was reduced to a forethought with the excitement, letting go of the anxiety that had been weighing upon him. The way Nico spoke to him was easy and light-hearted. Something about the way she aggressively cared for everything, even when she acted like she did not. It made Wade feel a sense of nihilistic comradery. 

The light coming through the windows dimmed, causing Wade to pout slightly, knowing it should be time to take a break from his ass being smashed. Opting to swap stories about adventures he had been on since last chatting with Nico. It felt good not to be met with corrections or frustrations. Instead, Nico connected with telling her own stories with exaggeration and drama. Illiana joined in occasionally to reinterpret exploited details. Wade spoke with no rhyme or reason about the shenanigans he and Spider-Man had gotten themselves into, and Nico let him. Encouraging him with follow-up questions and specifics. Looking at Wade as if hoping he would shut up soon while also accepting her fate.

“You really like him, huh.” She interjected.

“And you really don’t? Have you been listening?” Wade asked, though stating it as a matter of fact.

Nico changed direction by turning on a movie in the background of Wade’s ramblings of admiration. The movie was a romcom, and soon, all of their attention was glued to the television playing out a trainwreck of a story. They mocked the main characters for their inept abilities to flirt or see their attraction to each other. People would never act like this in real life, right? A chuckle was even heard from Illiana once or twice from their commentary. 

When the credits rolled, Nico got up, quickly returning having retrieved a small bag from the library. Wade looked inside of it, there were several smaller sealed bags with finely crushed herbs.

“It took all day to prepare this?” Deadpool questioned skeptically.

“You came to me for help, remember? Or are you a powerful witch now? Don’t question my methods. Now, you want to boil one of these bags in water and drink all of it, about 30 minutes before sleeping.” Nico handed Wade a piece of paper with instructions. “I made a list of steps to do once you have drunk it. It’s simple and does not take long, but follow it exactly as I said.”

“Sure, sure. Thanks, Nico.” Deadpool returned excitedly. This plan was finally coming to fruition.

“No worries, let me know how it goes. Erm, maybe not all of the details, but you know what I mean.” Nico said hopefully.

“No promises.”

The sound of the portal opening crackled in the air.

“Don’t be a stranger around here, okay?” Nico warmly encouraged. Wade made his way to the large doors to exit the sanctuary. “And Wade,” She continued. He turned to look at her.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me now.” Wade joked, he did not want to think about all the broken pieces of this place that eluded him because this time with Nico and Illiana had been a relief from feeling of the despair of the misplaced. That making new memories could be just as good as making up for old ones. Something Spider-Man was not able to do, in his own way. It was confusing, or perhaps it had always been this way and Deadpool was only taking it to heart now. 

“Never mind, see you later. Good luck!” Nico waved gently.

~~~~~~~~~~

In his apartment, Wade brewed a cup of the ground herbs. As the tea cooled he took big swigs from a quickly becoming empty bottle of whiskey. More for the taste and the slight tingle for a few moments after the liquid passed his throat, likening to stumble before the liquor was gone. After the steam subsided from the cup, the concoction was mild, and bland. You would think magic hoopla would be more exotic, though there wouldn’t be any harm in adding a dash of cream, right? Yum. Opening the fridge, there was no milk to be found. Aww,

He tossed the script to the side and laid on his bed, reciting the mantra of his desire to see Spider-Man in his sleep. Imagining how he wanted to see him, Wade thought about his mannerisms. How Spidey was never able to stay still, swaying on the balls of his feet, the animated way he gestured with his arms and hips. How he bent his knees when Spider-Man was annoyed with him, but in the playful way, not the serious one. The little beauty marks on his cheeks when he rolled up the mask, or the rest of him when the suit tore. Wade shifted in his sweatpants. He pictured touching Spidey’s skin. Reaching through a tear that spread across pale skin. Creamy with a rosy hue in special spots as he tore the hole wider. How soft it would be to the touch, the bounce of healthy firmness all over that body. Watching himself touch Spidey was so vivid he could almost feel Spidey touching him back.

Wade’s body became heavy and relaxed as his head began to droop. These little visions were pleasant, but he wanted more, to do more. He needed to let some of himself go so it could feel real. Curling himself into a cradle, he let the images of Spidey behind his eyelids lull him into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting at the bar in The Abbey, the common room was empty. Wade was wearing the clothes he had on earlier in the day and alarmingly conscious of how exposed his arms and neck were with a t-shirt. 

He was sitting next to a man. It was Spidey, he knew it but at the same time it was not. Not in the way he had ever seen him. In plain clothes and exposed brown hair. Wade didn’t question it, not even giving a glance for a better look. Like it was not a big deal, but also as if he was too scared to get caught. Not that it mattered, the face was masked by a hand of cards. This was familiar, like a replay. The way the man reviewed the options in his hand, moving his head side to side, making the thick hair sway slightly. Brown eyebrows lifted past the cards, revealing themselves slowly, striking an alluring pain in Wade. An attempt to move his mouth. It worked and the man tilted his head back in a laugh. He could see little lines around those eyes as they scrunched closed, making Wade smile. The sound and look of everything was exactly right and passed through time like watercolor on a textured page. 

The game and the cards were not recognizable. As Wade put a card down, it showed a man jauntily about to walk off a cliff. 

The man hesitated before putting down a card and sliding it toward Wade. It was difficult to tell what it was as it was upside down. Wade could make out that it was a cart with large wheels. His eyes opened before the image completely faded from his vision.

~~~~~~~~~~

Reviewing the street it was littered with unconscious goons. Deadpool holstered his guns, filled with ammunition that kept his would-be casualties alive and wriggling until they were taken away by The Man. Deadpool kicked one of them, not that hard!, while Spider-Man’s back was turned, waiting for him to finish a call with his police contact. Apparently not inconspicuous enough, Spidey fully turned to him, silently wagging a finger disapprovingly. Can’t get away with anything… Deadpool was agitated that King Pin’s men and Spidey were making him late for his first big-time interview. Even through the mask, Deadpool could make out Spidey glaring at him briefly before pausing all but about two seconds before Deadpool tapped his wrist with his pointer finger, urging Spidey to hurry it up. 

Does Spidey really have to crack a wise one over the radio when we’re in a time crunch?

I want to know more about this Spider-Cop business.

I want a name too! We can be Dead-Cop, then?

That…doesn’t sound right.

Cop-Pool?

Keep work-shopping that.

When Spidey finished, finally , they bumped fists and wiggled fingers in an exuberant fashion before going their separate ways. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The outside of Fisk Tower seemed like an appropriate place to meet after the last few weeks of disrupting the big man’s plans. The interviewer asked lame questions that had nothing to do with how popular he was, or how wealthy he procured himself to be, or had been, or how he liked Wagyu over bar-b-que steak. 

DB: “How’d you get your powers?”

DP: “From a friend.”

DB: “What’s your real name?”

DP: “Call me Pool. Deadpool.” Twirling a Glock around his finger, blowing on the tip like he just shot it off like a cowboy. That would have made a great cover photo, if only the photographer had arrived on time. The interviewer sighed slightly before asking his next question.

DB: “What’s with the leather? Most superheroes wear spandex.”

DP: “I never said I was a hero, sweetheart.” Deadpool corrected, inspecting the Glock for scratches, frustrated that these questions were not ones that his audience would find entertaining. Rolling his eyes Deadpool snubbed the reporter, wasn’t there supposed to be pictures taken of him? Yet, not one photo had been snapped since he got here. How was he supposed to get his image to the masses? He thought The Bugle would be more professional than this cheap farce.

DB: “What are some of your political beliefs?”

DP: With a wink. “Eat shit.”

DB: “Can you tell the people about the sharks? What’s up with that?”

Deadpool’s growing irritation was interrupted by a young man running up to them in a huff carrying a camera. 

“Peter! There you are!” The interviewer snapped.

“Sorry, Ned.” Peter replied.

This new guy, Deadpool knew him, more like despised . He recalled a time when collecting anything and everything about Spider-Man was like pure crack. Plush dolls, stickers, webbing, though those never lasted long, and pictures, professional and representing the real thing that Wade keeps on his phone for completely platonic purposes, and he wanted to make sure you knew that. And look who turned up, the person who helped make that all possible was this twerp, who played a hand in slandering Spider-Man’s good and hard-won reputation for years. It would frustrate Deadpool when Parker, gag , was praised for getting pictures of Spider-Man while the paper printed defamations. Always somehow getting money shots for exclusives. If Spider-Man was still letting this guy use his images next to words like ‘menace’ and ‘criminal’, there must be something else going on. Such as blackmail, or perhaps they were old friends, and these were favors. Maybe really close friends. Either option threatened to flip the switch in Deadpool where just one more murder would be an exception.

Deadpool shook his head, driving the thoughts away, recognizing how Parker, gaaag- Stoppit!- the pictures had slowed down but still got a picture every once and a while. He always wondered how Paker managed it, even after partnering with Spidey, it was like the photographer was always there but never seen. Creepy. Deadpool appeared in unintentional- Photobombs!Cameos! These ‘cameos’ made the people of New York see Deadpool differently, more than a menace or a tag-along. He was seen as a hero by the public no matter what The Daily Bugle printed. The newspaper had made him popular, even if it was partly due to Spider-Man’s freaky stalker. Spider-fame by proxy was good enough for Deadpool for now, and this exclusive with The Daily Bugle would be the start of the many offers just waiting for Deadpool to rake in the kind of cash he was used to. He just knew this scheme would work out, as marketable as he was with the color scheme and cartoonish jib, but the Parker guy standing in front of him now was irritating. 

He spent too much time around Spider-Man and Deadpool was certainly not jealous of the undeniable fact that Parker had known Spider-man for years, basically, and most likely remembered all of it to boot. Something Deadpool would never be able to stand up against. And now this clean-cut nerd was late and wasting his time. Parker was already on Deadpool’s shit list, thinking all of his envious thoughts as the photographer prepared the settings on his equipment. The interviewer continued to ask questions as Spider-Man’s stalker readied the camera.

DB: “How’d you become a superhero?”

A flash and a click.

Deadpool put his hands on his hips and turned slightly, flustered and disagreeable, he struggled to find the posing flow that he had been practicing for days. 

DP: “It was a choice. I like to think that I am, but it’s nice that people think so highly of me.” Spoken with a dramatic flare that was nowhere near humble.

DB: “Why do you work with Spider-Man?”

Another click and flash.

DP: “The outfits, duh. Our colors look real good together, ya know.” Deadpool awkwardly moved his hands behind his neck, thinking about what he should do with them. 

DB: “Okay,” Ned said, unable to hide the frustration in his voice. “Let’s start with, how do you know Spider-Man?”

DP: “Oh, you know, enemies become friends. Friends become-” 

DB: “Have you ever helped him commit any of the crimes he has been accused of?”

With another flash, Deadpool eyed Parker, disgruntled. “What are you doing?” Deadpool asked, frustrated that he was uncomfortable with himself at this exact moment. “These are not the images I want to project to my fans.” He attempted to justify.

“Oh? And what image is that?” Parker asked, somehow already equally irritated. Deadpool did not appreciate the presumptuous and exasperated tone at his own excellency.

Deadpool made a frustrated click with his tongue. This little shit . “How about you gimme something I can work with! Something with emotion, vibes, energy!” Snapping with his fingers as the words came out.

 “Real models can pose on cue, naturally.” Parker retorted. Deadpool felt the fire in his throat ignite before being prematurely interrupted. 

“Music? Would music help?” Ned suggested hopefully.

“Yes!” Deadpool pointed to his interviewer aggressively. “Music!”

Parker looked at the both of them as if one of them was going to break first and say this was all a joke. Ned encouraged Parker to hurry up with a quickening gesture while Parker sighed, bringing out his phone and quickly thumbing through it to put on a song. Setting it down, the rhythm  of R&B began to course in the air, making Deadpool cast aside his frustrations and become comfortable enough to spread dynamic poses for the camera again, only this time with ease. Allowing him to lean and twist in a relaxed yet cheesy fashion that would represent how he thought people would want to perceive him. 

“Mariah, huh?” Deadpool inquired, surprised at the selection.

“First thing that came to mind,” Parker commented absently, shrugging his shoulders. Deadpool felt challenged by the sarcastic tone.

“True, true.” Deadpool leaned back slightly, lifting his knee slightly, and puffing his chest out with his hands behind his head as Parker took a few snaps, feeling more confident while posing and partially answering the intrusive questions, mostly about Spider-Man from his interviewer. He would not answer anything that did not appeal to his brand or that could be manipulated to feed into the misconceptions that were printed about his Spider-Man. “I need you to come at me at this angle.” Deadpool insisted to Parker, interrupting the momentum of the tone-deaf interview. Parker muddled something under his breath.

“What was that?” Deadpool asked confrontationally.

“Nothing,” Parker replied in Deadpool’s same tone.

“No, please, share with the class.” Deadpool insisted.

“Diva. I said, diva.” 

Ned eyed Parker sharply.

“Diva? I can show you diva of the likes you’ve never seen!” Deadpool threatened.

“No, please don’t!” Ned practically begged.

“I’m sure.” Parker egged, flashing a stupid smirk on his stupid face.

Deadpool flung his arms and legs in exaggerated anger, getting cautious looks from the security guards inside before dead dropping and writhing on the clean-washed custom asphalt while Parker took picture after picture. 

“I’m disgusting! Filthy! And everyone loves me!” Deadpool pleaded.

A camera snap. “You said it, not me.” Parker smiled widely at Deadpool’s flamboyancy. “Oh, that’s good, stay there, just like that.” Several more snaps erupted.

Now this is what Deadpool was talking about, all the attention on him. From pedestrians to the interviewer who was folding his arms as he watched Deadpool sparkle under the lens of the camera. He was beginning to like how Parker kneeled and contorted his body to get just the right angle for the shot. Retorts of sass changed to sharply encouraged directions. The playlist allowed Deadpool to focus entirely on how the eyes behind the camera were viewing him. Did he look sexy enough in this pose? Or particularly menacing in this one? 

“Maybe from up top? Look, climb up the fountain a little and point it down.” Deadpool directed.

“I know what will look good, ‘kay?” Parker reminded.

 “You’re the professional, after all.” Deadpool conceded, playfully. He was confident showing off his body under the protection of his suit. Muscles crafted from years of training fueled by tacos and burritos. Channeling California’s past Republican governor and terminator Arnold, Deadpool flexed, flaunting his shoulders and chest, angeling just so to show off how small he could twist his waist while widening his shoulders.

PP: “So, why the chimichanga?”

DP: “I just like the way it sounds. ChimiminiMcManga, my dude.”

PP: “This black and red, a little edge-lordy, don’t you think?”

DP: “Look who’s talkin’, fanboy. The purpose is practical, actually,” Deadpool touched his fingers over his chest, crossing to the seam of his arm. “Great at hiding the stains of bowel movements and innards from my enemies, of course.”

“Do you…have a special someone?” Parker asked, looking up from the camera slightly. 

Deadpool felt a sense of deja vu seeing the eyes peer from the back of the camera. In slow motion they pierced through him, investigating, yet calling him with an alluring purpose that was just out of reach. The gaze was only for a moment and then as soon as Deadpool felt it, the eyes disappeared behind the camera again

“Oh, erm- fuck yeah, I do! I am a bit of a hot commodity, if I don’t say so myself. Can’t keep this playa down.” Deadpool feigned. It was true, he had many lovers, but they never stuck around. It was also true that he wished a certain someone would let him in, go deeper, and allow him to demonstrate how much he admired every little centimeter…

“That so,” Parker replied, unimpressed.

 “It is! What? Finding me irresistible?” Deadpool teased, taking joy in the awkward silence while Parker’s mouth failed to figure out how to respond, pretending to be distracted by the camera’s settings. “I wouldn’t have expected an R&B playlist from a guy like you.” Changing the subject in victory.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Questioned Parker, in a sharp fluster.

“No offense, seriously.” Deadpool lied jaunty. “Something about it makes you feel brave, pipsqueak? Probably got you lucky, at least once.” He added flirtatiously.

“Oh my God, stop talking!” Ned interjected. “Is this an interview or a date?” 

“A date, huh?” Lingering on the thought. It was an opportunity blooming right in front of Deadpool. Perhaps, a chance to dig up what information this guy might have on  his Spider. Whether these pictures being printed were forced and for what or who Parker really worked for, or if he was merely a deplorable hater. The idea of something even deeper threatened his disposition.

It would help that Parker was quick with his words, albeit with a serious attitude problem, maybe he could get him to spill some details about the relationship. Something told Deadpool he would regret doing this but as the jealousy burned, he quietly thought of how this spontaneous plan could come to fruition by the time his lips were already moving.

“Sure.” Deadpool pursued. The two Daily Bugle employees stood blankly before Deadpool continued. “So we can get to know each other better. I’m sure he knows all about my Spidey-boy, and if you’re lucky, I might spill some exclusive deets for your paper.” Regret. Definitely regret. It made Deadpool feel slightly better that he did not have an issue breaking promises with these assholes, as long as he did not slip.

Ned turned to Parker with wide eyes, looking at him desperately.

Parker appeared uncomfortable, furrowing his brows questionably. “I don’t know-”

Ned “Mmm”ed, prompting Parker to agree.

“For the paper, I guess.” Parker reluctantly accepted.

“It’s a date then!” Deadpool exclaimed, not knowing what he was about to walk into. 

~~~~~

When Wade told Spider-Man he was not going to be able to patrol with him tonight, he was met with indifference in the form of being left on read. Even so, he was becoming giddy with the idea of being on date- an official, real kind of date, sort of, with someone, even if it was also a covert op and with Peter Parker of all people. 

Trying not to take being ignored too personally, Wade washed his best sweatshirt and jeans. The ones with the least amount of holes and stains. It had been a few days, so he decided to wash himself too. In the bathroom mirror he reviewed himself, used to the face that  stared back at him, still hated what he saw. His skin was particularly irritated today, sores were raw and seeping. With a frustrated gait, he returned to his suit. A quick change and he was covered in the comfort of leather covering him up from head to toe. 

~~~

Standing outside the deli, Deadpool people watched as pedestrians walked by and cars sounded and signaled. About twenty minutes after eight, he caught Parker running up to him across the block, face flushed from the hurry. 

“Been waiting long?” Parker asked with a huff.

“Just got here.” Wade comforted, lying, realizing lateness must be part of this man’s routine. Unreliable.

Parker looked at the sign and raised a brow. “Katz’s? This is your favorite restaurant?”

“This place is iconic. Where Wade met Parker.”

Parker looked skeptical before cocking his head at Deadpool, realizing something, it was for an extended moment of just the sounds of the city around them before he spoke. “Wade, huh?”

“Don’t go flaunting it around or anything.” Deadpool spoke curtly, hoping the give-in of information would help Parker spill some of his.

“Well, you can flaunt mine, it’s Peter, by the way.” Right, Peter. Peter. “Good thing you’re paying, I’m hungry.” Parker- Peter declared, exacerbated, opening the door for Deadpool to walk through.

“It’s not the price,” Deadpool asserted, “It’s where Harry met Sally, dufus”. Unimpressed by his lack of knowledge of a classic romcom. “Are you even from here?”

“I know!” Peter corrected, a true offense on his tongue. “But it’s- well… special occasions, I guess. I wouldn’t want to come here for just any reason.” 

“Hmph,” One point for Parker. For now. Maybe half a point.

They were able to snag a table while waiting for their order. Deadpool asked Peter about how long he had been taking pictures. Looking for as many creepy details and red flags as possible. As expected, Peter had mostly taken pictures of Spider-Man in his photography career, off and on throughout the years. Peter expressed he found some enjoyment in it, thinking he was pretty good at it and the process, making extra cash on the side. Even going so far as to say that he did not agree with how The Daily Bugle used the photos, but money was money, Peter explained, as if Deadpool cared. He was not convinced, even though Peter looked like he meant it. A good front for what Peter described. It was too…normal. There must be something else. Deadpool needed to dig further.  

“What about me?” Deadpool asked, expecting a good reason why he was never photographed as much as his arachnid partner. 

“What about you?” Peter joked. It was cruel and frisky. A part of Deadpool was excited by the quick retort. “Well, this is your big chance, big guy.” Peter said, puckering his lips and raising his eyebrows. “You sure gotta make this exclusive count.” He finished pulling out his phone, surely reviewing questions the interviewer had sent him.

Every time Peter asked a question, Deadpool was able to deflect, turning it around to ask about Peter’s relationship with Spider-Man. Instead, Deadpool found himself being dragged from one topic to another by Peter as if they were related. How Peter felt a fealty to Spider-Man by capturing heroic moments even when it cost him time from his schooling, work, and people. Building up in pace to where the words sprayed out like they had been blocked up for ages, while simultaneously avoiding specific details that would have actually answered Deadpool’s questions. 

Instead, he was stunned by information overload, Deadpool tried to follow the long-winded storylines. Peter described how he had been teaching at ESU part-time for the last couple of years and something about material this or voltage that. Deadpool did not understand why Peter was telling him all of this, but letting Peter speak between all his “Mhmm”’s and “Oh”’s while idly staring at freckles when he started to ramble about whatever Peter was currently working on. Science shit, surely. Becoming increasingly distracted by the way Peter’s mouth moved while he talked. So fast and unhinged. Peter’s eyes never rested on Deadpool for more than a couple of seconds, looking around as he explained the intricate workings of, something? Deadpool appreciated the fluctuations of light against the deep hazel of Peter’s eyes, flickering from greens to browns, especially when looking up after reviewing the questions on the phone he was not asking, forgotten quite some time ago. The colors from his hair to his clothes were washed out from the fluorescent lights, a contrast from the deep saturated ones when he looked out of the window. Common attributes that still made it hard to look away. Peter eventually put his phone back in his pocket and left it never to reemerge.

It was difficult for Deadpool to admit he liked how Peter talked from how he went from flippant to hyper focused and passionate in mid-sentence. It reminded him of what he wanted. Between the thoughts, Deadpool tried to remind himself about his purpose, to make sure he got his picture in a major paper without selling out his favorite boy, but now he was becoming fascinated with how Peter spoke to him, a feature Deadpool wasn’t expecting. There was a familiarity in hearing Peter talk about the mundanity of his everyday life. Nothing he said was that surprising or interesting, but the enthusiasm of how Peter described it all and to share it with him made Deadpool want to know more and never stop. The attention was welcome, even though he still questioned who it was coming from. Peter was, for the lack of a better word, safe. He had a normal life with normal troubles. On a normal date. If anything, he was impressed with the accomplishments Peter had been able to make for as young as Deadpool assumed he was. Deadpool shivered at the thought of admiring him, but passing the time with Peter was not all that bad.

He obviously knew a lot about…that thing. You know, uhh, the stuff. Deadpool yadda-yadda’d over the details of Peter’s specific projects, however he still did not comprehend how he could still make time to catch Spider-Man in the act. The crime-fighting act. Get your mind out of the gutter! This guy was a little…boring. A geek, the normal kind, not the red flag welding evil genius kind. We don’t need any more of those! And normal could be okay. Maybe this is what Deadpool had been needing. Simplify it all, even if it was not everything he had dreamt of. It was a plus when Peter referred to Spidey, though not elaborating much, but talked about how Spider-Man had helped him over the years, just as Peter had assisted him. Not what Spidey could do for him but what he could do for Spidey. Cue patriotism. Just as much as Deadpool had, where it did not feel like a choice, but in a way that made them realize they needed Spider-Man and what he represented. It was not what Deadpool wanted to hear, it made him feel closer to Peter. Not many people could understand it, and this ordinary guy seemed to relate to him at his core. It was the most perfect answer Peter could have given. Deadpool leaned in his palm, listening to Peter talk without an appropriate grammatical period in sight. Peter’s eyes flickered in his delivery in intended words, the sides of his mouth wrinkled when he smiled. It was…nice. Even better to see. As if all the aspects he wished he could have in his Spider-Man were presented right in front of him, waiting to be noticed. Of what Peter and Spider-Man’s history was, it was beginning to not matter.

When they finally were able to pick up their sandwiches, Deadpool shared parts of himself to show some good faith, with much-needed fluff, of course. The thought of the paper was out of his mind and further enraptured by Peter. The lines of business and pleasure were becoming blurrier by the second, but he sugar-coated the dirty details of his mercenary days regardless, and he somehow always related back to an anecdote of his duo with Spider-Man, talking about him in only the highest regards.

“Oh yeah, and this one time-”

“You sure talk about him a lot, huh? Wish you were out with him right now instead?” Peter teased, rolling his eyes in jest.

“You’ll do,” Deadpool bluntly retorted, tilting his head slightly, and watching Peter analyze his movements. It was the first time Peter had looked at him as long as he was, at least not through a camera. Deadpool did not want him to stop doing it anytime soon. It was a stare that made Deadpool uncomfortable, as if he was waiting to be poached and all he wanted was more.

Lost in the fantasy in front of him, Deadpool came back to reality, Peter swallowing a large bite of his meat with two pieces of bread. “Nuh hunry?” Peter muffled through a mouthful with a skeptically raised eyebrow, reviewing Deadpool’s untouched sandwich.

It was not that Deadpool was absolutely ravenous for the fully loaded pastrami, becoming colder by the second. He was exceptionally aware of what was under his mask in the presence of this suddenly very noticeable specimen of ordinary perfection and had not thought about how he would have to expose part of his face to eat. Not that he would mind in many other situations, but he liked this, and it was going well. Really well. More than he expected, and he did not want to ruin it just yet. 

“Wanna take a walk?” Deadpool suggested, wanting to get out of this line of thought.

“Mmm,” Peter appeared in thought. Deadpool knew it was only for a couple of seconds, but he could see Peter thinking to himself. He froze with eyes moved over him, assessing. “Okay,” Peter agreed. Deadpool made a jolly wiggle. It wasn’t a ‘no’, and that was better than the indifference he had become accustomed to.

A few blocks later, Deadpool continued to trade stories with Peter. Some were long, some fantastical, but all of them kept Peter’s attention, giving Deadpool glances and smiles, little crinkles in the corner of his mouth when he was humored. Moving further from the focus from himself and ever more onto this guy that had taken a chance on him earlier today, even if it was a bit of a bribe, this was becoming one of the most fulfilling nights that armored Deadpool so directly since…he could remember. Carrying their meals in a plastic bag, Peter rested his back against a building, stopping to chat absently for a time with a noticeable lack of onlookers. The thumping of beats through the concrete of the music hall tickled Deadpool's feet. It was good to feel something vibrate aside from the nerves firing inside of him.

“It’s getting late,” Peter said after putting his phone back in his pocket. Even knowing what the words meant, it didn’t affect Deadpool, or how he thought Peter was looking at him. His features masked by the low light of the street, illuminating only the defined corners of his face. The lowness of Peter’s lids were sultry, or tired. Either way he wanted to lay beside them, looking at him like he talked about those projects he loved to work in so much.

“Is it past your bedtime? What time is it?” Deadpool asked, pretending to be curious. 

“Late,” Peter confirmed with a small smile. “I live close, walk me there?”

“My liege,” Deadpool curtsied, extending his arm to let Peter lead the way, reviewing his gait and how his smaller stature would fit so well on his lap. “Ya know, if it weren’t for folks like me, these streets would be way more dangerous for bait like you.” 

“Think I’m bait?” Peter questioned with a sarcastic chuckle. 

“Could be worse, if you had glasses and a pocket protector you’d be jumped already.” They stopped all too soon in front of a particularly decrepit building. “You live here ?” Deadpool asked, unable to conceal his concern for someone as soft as Petey.

“What’s wrong with it?” Peter asked, only slightly offended.

“N-nothing,” Deadpool began to detract, waving his hands in front of him, washing away the comment. They stood in front of Peter’s apartment building for a moment as Peter bounced on the balls of his feet while Deadpool nervously scratched the back of his head.

“So this is it,” Peter commented the obvious.

“Ah, so, going to invite me up for a nightcap?” Deadpool joked, only half-heartedly.

“Not on the first date,” Peter assured, shoving his hands in his pockets,smirking as he did. He held his head down and flashed his eyes upward.

“Oh-ho, so I get another?” Hopeful static sparked throughout Deadpool’s limbs. No strategically layered questions to get him to say something that would be sensational for a few minutes. No feigning interest or probing questions. This time it would be for real. Peter was…feasible, willing. It would not hurt that much, if things did not work out or if he ever texted again, but there was a possibility. Deadpool became overwhelmingly weak as someone vying for his company, wavered the wall he had built around his heart, if only for a little bit.

Peter touched the side of Deadpool’s mask, running a thumb along his cheek. With a smooth slight raise to his tiptoes to meet his eyes, Deadpool felt pressure on his lip from Peter’s. Startled frozen, he had wanted a connection, but with it actually happening, his mind was exploding silently in the intimacy gently pressed to him, more than his innate urges could conjure.

Peter pulled back all too soon, “You don’t have to wear all this next time- if you don’t want to. So it’s more discrete, you know?” Peter requested, looking up with eyes that Deadpool could only say yes to. 

Realigning the components of his loosely screwed brain, “The world is not ready for freshness that I hide under all this.” Deadpool said in a stunted rehearsed manner. “It’s really for your own good.” 

Peter moved his hand to the seam of Deadpool’s mask, pulling slightly at first, waiting for a reaction, then slowly peeling up more. Deadpool did not know how to respond, indecisive in his own desires. He let the fingers roll up the leather. The night air hitting his skin was cool, Deadpool’s chest tightened, terror of being revealed debilitating, but when Peter was not phased by the small exposure of his mangled flesh, he let the moment of insecurity wash over him. Peter lightly pinched Deadpool’s chin, bringing him down for a proper affirmation. A rush of blood moved to Daedpool’s lips and cheeks. Soft, warm, the tip of Peter’s nose was so cold. Deadpool could feel himself heating up from the contact. Skin taught at first, then slippery with the tug of Peter’s wet inner lip adjusted around Deadpool’s. His mind was racing with all that felt right and inherently wrong about doing this, yet all his body could do was bring his hands to tenderly rest on Peter’s waist, finding it through layers of loose fabric, before bringing Peter’s body to his. 

It felt comfortable, perfect, like he should have been here all along. Lips exchanged deeply in a slow lock, Deadpool was entrapped by the need of Peter’s kisses, as much as Deadpool had needed them. Unconsciously, Deadpool’s hands traveled lower, lightly squeezing hips, testing how far he could go. Peter retreated slightly, still embraced as Deadpool followed the retraction of adoring lips, leaning for more. Peter’s eyes were still closed when he ran a tongue across his lips that he pressed together in reluctant resistance, his freckled face a furious shade of pink. Lips flushed from the friction, or the cold, or both. Deadpool was stuck in the way Peter’s eyes looked up ever so slightly to meet his.

“Good…night,” Peter concluded with a playfully sour expression, relinquishing their contact purposefully.

“Goodnight?” Deadpool asked desperately sprung, watching Peter walk up the stairs to his building.

“Goodnight.” Peter reiterated, smoothly and silly at the repetition, heading toward the building’s door.

“Buenos noches, mi amor, mi corazón!” Deadpool cooed loudly. Peter turned back with an embarrassed smirk, fiddling with his keys. “Mon Capitaine! Je t'adore! ” He continued obnoxiously.

“Wade, please… Goodnight.” Peter said firmly, chuckling nervously as Deadpool made a heart symbol on his chest with his hands, hoping that would not be the only time Peter would beg for him. The cold air nipped at his exposed skin, but he was relieved the large grin across his face was something Peter could see, and that he had seen Peter’s.