Double Dipping

The sky was bright and blinding in pastels. Smoke clouded saturated buildings as Deadpool looked down at the street, seeing fire spread through the buildings below. Civilians ran and hid among debris and chaos, masked in an oblique haze. He should probably do something about this, but he could not find the strength to move his body or even from the very spot he stood.

Hearing a scream grow closer, it came and ended abruptly. Spider-Man landed on the roof with a disoriented woman, and by the time Deadpool gathered the wherewithal to say anything, Spider-Man gave a brief look of acknowledgement before thwipping away. 

Deadpool felt as though he should be helping in some way, but he was always two steps behind. As the world moved at its pace, his body was slowed in an invisible thick current. Deadpool struggled against his heavy limbs, begging them to move as he commanded. A howl erupted from him, becoming more visceral with every millisecond until he was awakened with a yelling between his sheets.

 Opening his eyes, Wade heaved slightly damp from perspiration. As his eyes adjusted, he detected a spider hanging just so in front of his face. His instinct was not fear, but to be rid of it, to gasp and crush it between his palms. Satisfaction of the pests destruction with a load smack and squish, but he merely stayed still. Focusing his vision to watch the spinning creature hanging from the ceiling. Unsettling as it was, it was majestic in its calculated creation, balancing on the webbing that was strong enough to hold itself, allowing it to greet Wade. Good morning to you, too. Lifting a finger to it, the spider crawled on Wade’s finger for but a moment, investigating the new surface with a couple of its many spindly legs, before retreating back up the webbing it had so carefully crafted. 

Perhaps, it was for the better.

~~~~~~~~~~

That evening Deadpool took out his frustration on the thugs he and Spider-Man encountered on the streets, putting them down more ferociously than usual. 

Dusting his hands off, he scouted the downed criminals, ensuring none of them were getting back up. Spider-Man ended a call with his police contact to their location to pick the goons up while walking up to Deadpool.

“Nice work, could have saved a few for me, though. Overcompensating for something, big guy?” Spider-Man joked. A fist nudged Deadpool’s shoulder, playfully. 

There he was again, touching him. Was it more than usual these last few days, or was Deadpool only noticing it more? He was not getting any closer in his dreams, and Spider-Man’s presence when he was awake put him on edge. In desperate need of an outlet of what they could be, what Deadpool could do to him. The anticipation of the results from the tea to relinquish his desires were keeping his cravings at bay for now. Though, he was going to need a release for these pent-up needs soon, or he did not know what he would do. Admiring from afar was becoming torturous, and with every innocent touch, Deadpool wanted to give them back a thousand times over. 

Just as quickly as Spider-Man thwipped off, Peter made himself available to fill the void that was left behind. As far as dates went these past few with Peter were definitely the tamest, stunningly ordinary. He was sensing when the other shoe would drop, would he turn around and sell some unsavory content to his editor or turn out to be a hell spawn playing the long game for his semen? So far, there had been no bullets or blood, and Wade had kept his dick in his pants, We gave it a good go!- at least until he got home. A part of him wanted to be surprised by his restraint, but thoughts of his Spider friend undoubtedly made him feel guilty for thinking about anyone else. The effortless obsession that had been fulfilling Wade up until now was still holding him back for the possibility, an opportunity, something that was spectacularly not real or reciprocated. There was comfort in the limbo of uncertainty, not receiving a blessing from Spider-Man or committing to one from Peter, but one thing was objectively clear, Peter did not present as a threat, if only in the competition he felt, a closeness with Peter through Spider-Man. The years of bitterness and envy Wade had felt for Peter were polymorphing into something else and he struggled to contain it. This did not have anything to do with his visit with Nico, or the ritual tea. This was random, chaos theory. Nothing was predetermined about this. Merely a way to spend his spare time in place of what he truly desired. What did it matter if it felt good while he did it?

Just as he was now, thinking about how his body was reacting when he sensed Peter standing next to him. It made Wade fully aware of how he breathed and where his hands were, how he was standing. His limbs moved in an exaggerated fashion in the most obnoxious of ways. It did not make him feel like a weirdo when he did, yet somehow Peter could match his energy and displayed the anxious chaos inside of him also. He had known these reactions from himself more times than he could count, how he fell too quickly, when he knew nothing good could come from it, but in every excursion his anxiety did not waver around this plain little man who had captured him. Wade’s brain grew more frazzled, moving his fingers over record after record, not minding the clerk who eyed him. He was used to getting disgusted stares, but they never came from Peter, never even asked about his skin. Wade was unsure whether to be thankful or concerned from his lack of curiosity. 

Cover images surrounding the large hipster disks were not the kind of music he recognized, and he was too distracted by his cute irritation to finger through a different line of records. He could not care less about whichever artists he skipped on discovering. 

Wade glanced from under his hood to look at slim fingers curling around thin squares. Viewing up the wrist and elbow of a cheap sport jacket. How it wrinkled around his elbows because the fit was too big, swallowing the physique under it. Unzipped just enough to see the collared shirt beneath the overbearing outerwear. Wade watched and memorized Peter’s eyes spring over the new images of each record before thumbing to the next one, taking one out occasionally for closer inspection. A look of analytic inspection from Peter’s face before making a noticeable determination, brows furrowed and his bottom lip protruding. It was a quirk Wade had discovered when Peter was analyzing. Pose one. 

The slight wrinkle at the center of Peter’s brows when he was concentrating, and the crease next to charming straight teeth when his determination was approval. The expression Peter made when he was unimpressed was the worst of them all, a flat affect of lowered lids and a naturally down-turned line made by his mouth. Pose two.

After looking through a few titles that kept that apathetic look, Peter took a glance at Wade, and his expression softened. Brown eyes became sweetly bigger, an addicting awkward upturn at the corner of his mouth. A look that was not expecting anything, a pleasantness of Wade’s general presence, reflecting peace. When Peter looked at him like that, Wade could feel it too. He did not even need to pretend. Pose three.

The voices in Wade’s head laughed maniacally. Wade looked away from those eyes, the taunting bringing fear onto him. It must have been creeping thoughts passing through Peter’s head. Maybe there was something weird on Wade’s surgical mask, a compromise of Peter’s request from their last encounter, but, maybe, Wade was the weird thing, weird enough to make Peter look at him like that. Wade cleared his throat, absentmindedly looking through more colorful cover art, knowing just how ridiculous his feelings were becoming.

Amidst Wade’s paranoia, today was a date. Another real date, no strings in sight. Peter was here of his free will, and Wade was determined not to fuck it up. Here he was again, hoping to adapt to someone else so they would tolerate and stay with him. Wade knew, just like every other time, it would turn into a train wreck sooner or later, somehow. Peter must be delusional or broken to want to be around someone like him. Or was Peter just as heartbroken as him? Desperately needing someone to tolerate him, even if that person was Deadpool. Wade knew deep down that he could never be enough for anyone, that was his story, but there was a part of him thinking that youthful face and arrogant smile could be the fresh start he had been looking for.

"You like stuff like this?" Wade asked, reviewing the oldies record in his hand skeptically. "These are so old."

"So what?" Peter defended quickly. "They are classics, if you gave them a chance you'd like them too."

"Pfft, get real." Wade scoffed. "No rhythm and everyone sings the same two songs."

"I understand why you may think that. You're uncultured, I get it."

"Uncultured?" Wade was genuinely put off by the comment. "They have every color of Disney princesses these days, and I've seen all of those movies. All of them!" 

Peter rolled his eyes with a large grin. "How about this, I pick one for you and you pick one for me." Wade groaned dramatically. "Aaand we'll listen to the whole thing and report back to each other."

"I didn't sign up for homework, Petey." Wade feigning a protest.

The subtle way Peter bit his lip when Wade called him by that nickname sent a flush of heat throughout his body. 

"Well, that's what happens when you date a professor." Peter smugly boasted, promptly adjusting the collar of the button up under his sports coat.

Wade's clever wit about something involving a ruler for punishment was interrupted by a flurry of sirens and lights passed by store furiously. It was in Wade’s instinct to perk up and peel away from looking at Peter toward the quickly fading sound, knowing it was the right thing to follow and possibly save someone’s day, even meeting up with Spider-Man for back up. He had not even noticed he had lunged toward the door when he saw Peter doing the exact same thing, finding him in mid strut. There was an understanding look between them, downturn brows and a shy smile from Peter. Without a discussion, it was approval, or embarrassment from equal opportunity.

“See you out there.” Peter finished nervously.

“Yeah, see ya,” Wade replied. Though he did not see him. He never did.

~~~~~~~~~~

The movie was going to start soon. 

Surely the trailers and annoying theater reminders were already playing. Wade waited tensely in front of the movie theater, unable to still his legs as he continued to review his phone for the time, beginning to think this date might turn out like every other one Peter never showed up for, that he knew he should not be showing up to. 

There was no way Wade could be lucky enough to capture a genuinely normal specimen such as Peter to make him a priority. Was this the doldrum thrill Spider-Man sought by having Peter too? An envy he was becoming used to was compounding. He bet Peter was laughing right now, chumming with friends about how he embarrassed the almighty Deadpool, standing him up in front of a movie theater in the sprinkle of rain for everyone to see, and worse, making Wade think a well adjusted guy would want to go on a date with him. Wade thought himself a fool, and he agreed. Thanks, You’re welcome. Maybe he should just grab a pint and sink his sorrows at home and Palmela.

Before Wade could reside himself to upgrade to a bottle of tequila and a Bee Movie, the sound of hurried footsteps on wet cement approached. Hopeful, Wade looked up, watching as a stranger rushed toward and then past him, leaving him with a deflated feeling. As his view turned to the other side of the street in desperation to see his intended, Wade made eye contact with a face he had been expecting to see jaunt toward him. A burst of sparks popped through his skin, stiffening his limbs to respond wildly. 

“Petey-Pie!” Wade exclaimed, flapping his hand excitedly. 

“Sorry, I’m late! The movie hasn’t started yet?” Peter said, wishfully.

“If you’re here, you’re not late,” Wade assured, feeling stupid with how desperate he sounded, or his recent funnel of thoughts. He quickly put a hand on Peter’s back to usher him through the lobby.

The theater was not full, but they had to awkwardly avoid movie-goers' legs. Wade was able to score two seats in a row at the optimal viewing height, not too low and only a little high. Perfect. Making it just in time for the intro credits to finish scrolling. 

Wade thought watching a movie would take the pressure off of conversation. The movie itself would be an event that was prescribed to mean ‘low pressure’ or ‘no-stakes’, such as leaving to go to the bathroom and never coming back, and it would probably be okay and completely understandable while completely devastating all at the same time- sigh . But as the film went on, they leaned close to each other while making little remarks about the events and characters being portrayed on the big screen. Peter snickered loudly after Wade made a particularly funny comment, and they were shushed by a patron in the row in front of them. Straightening themselves in their seats, Wade snuck a peek at Peter, attempting to contain a laugh that was becoming more difficult as the milliseconds went on. Peter was making the same struggling containment with pursed lips and watering eyes.

The control of restricting his laughter was almost as hard as controlling his hand from moving to the armrest where Peter’s hand rested. Wade questioned himself if it was too much. Peter continued to make it clear he was not some one night wonder, even though he rarely declined an opportunity to meet again. Wade had not been as forward as he had been that first night, continuing to pull himself back to not indulge in erotic curiosities. Each time he was denied it was as if it was a sign to indefinitely wait for Spider-Man.

Pure torture, by the way.  

Yes, pure torture. 

If Peter declined his move, it would not break him, but palpable devastation lurked in the hesitation of Wade’s hand. Taking the plunge, Wade moved his pinky to Peter’s. It was slight, intentional.

“S-sorry,” Peter whispered, removing his hand quickly away from Wade’s as he frowned hard under his surgical mask. Intentional , he thought. Wade removed his hand from the armrest and nestled it on his lap.

A few scenes passed, and a foreboding development in the plot arose. A brutal display of loss, a turning point that was harsh and uncomfortable. The energy in the theater became tense as the scene dragged on. Wasn’t this supposed to be a comedy?What happened to low pressure? Glancing at Peter, Wade could see the discomfort in Peter’s body language. Eyes downturned, and a twitch that could resemble a tremor. The scene was uncomfortable, but it was changing his jovial date that Wade enthused with into something else. On instinct, Wade reached for Peter’s hand and held it tight. The action seemed to snap Peter out of his thoughts and look directly at Wade, the white of his eyes prominent in the dark, contrasting his iris from the light of the projector. 

“I’m bored. Let’s get out of here,” Wade suggested.

“Mm, sure,” Peter replied, but the grip on Wade’s hand was the true reciprocation he needed. 

Rustling of fabric and footsteps crunching loose popcorn and candies were the only sounds Wade perceived as he rescued Pete from the theater.

The streets outside were chilly and bustling with nightlife. Wade felt stupid, guilt overtaking him as he felt the tightness of Peter’s hand leave him and watched them recoil to the depths of his pockets. They walked in silence for a moment before Wade tapped Peter’s shoulder and pointed toward a bar with a flashy neon sign.

“Don’t drink,” Peter grumbled.

“There’s more than booze in there.” Wade insisted.

Entering the bar, it was dimly lit, and the walls were lined with neon displays shining brightly over arcade machines. High-pitched sounds of victory and music flooded Wade’s senses. It was overwhelming and exciting, it made him want to fill his pockets full of quarters to spend.. Wade fingered to a pinball machine. Ghostbusters. Yes!

“They don’t use real money these days, Wade.” Peter corrected.

“Hm? I ain’t say anything.”

“You didn’t?”

Aside from getting nowhere close to collecting highscores, Wade thought that he had a few good rounds, aside from Peter’s snarky comments, but when it was Peter’s turn, he achieved a high record almost effortlessly.

Hmph.

Let him have it, he’s finally in a good mood.

Wade left his date momentarily, engrossed on his new high-score streak, to hunt for a beer and pop. When he came back, the numbers on the screen were tracking that much higher. Wade was not sure whether to be impressed or concerned by the hyper fixation, but the concentrated excitement on Peter’s face was the only true thing he cared about. When Peter finally lost the ball, he elated from the cabinet with a confident grin, tapping Wade playfully as he strutted to find another machine to conquer. Wade had been keeping an eye on a fighting game to transition to. Something he knew he could show off with. He was the master of fatalities, after all.

‘FINISH HIM’ triggered as they flicked and semicircled the analog sticks, tapping buttons furiously. Wade was blown away by Peter’s reflexes as if he could predict Wade’s moves before he even thought of performing them. 

No amateur, this guy . 

Tell me about it! 

Thumb hurts.

Wade bit his bottom lip, concentrating on his next plays, only to see the spine of his character be torn out for the upteenth round. 

“This machine is broken!” Wade proclaimed in dishonor.

“Or you suck! Suck, suck suck!” Peter held his thumb to his nose wriggling his fingers tauntingly while crossing his eyes. Peter looked like a buffoon but it irritated Wde nonetheless. The loss burned deeper than it already was.

Frustrated, Wade smacked the table, before glancing at Peter’s smug smile. A drastic change from previously in the night. It satisfied Wade, more so that he had been responsible for it. All he could see was that face brilliantly lighting up because of him. It was genuine, entertained and safe. Peace. Wade lived in the expression like it was the first time again over and over again. He never felt more like a hero. 

Wade could not help how familiar watching Peter’s competitive nature came to the surface. There was an enjoyment in witnessing it, with Peter making no attempt to hide. It excited him whenever Peter spoke a sassy line, Wade’s mouth worked just as quickly, delivering a sharp remark. Peter would have that look again, the one when he was he spontaneously decided to critique, and then approve. Whether he was lasering T-600s, mashing for the ultimate combo, or synching their feet to glowing arrows, it was as if Peter saw through Wade, coloring his missing parts. It was in the subtle acceptances Peter made, reflections of how he felt in the moment, making him feel as if he was capturing the heart of Peter’s beauty. It could not be this easy to love a stranger. As soon as Wade realized it, the night reached its natural conclusion, but Wade desperately did not want it to end.

It was late, very late, but Wade wanted to treasure every remaining moment he had with Peter. The unfolding darkness of Peter’s block was recognizably threatening in a city such as this. Wade could not believe this straight-laced and over confident dork was walking these streets every night. A confidence Wade was surely too good for Pete and would definitely get him murdered. It did not even surprise Wade when a lone man approached them on the decrepit street, flashing a gun and asking for them to empty their pockets.

Wade casually glanced at Peter, who seemed unphased. He appeared calm and clear, or he was too stupid or too scared to react. Doesn’t this mugger-asshole see our get up? C’mon, he was wrapped in leather from head to toe, like plastic wrap keeping last night's dinner fresh for the next day. Utility belt and all, surely this mug-hole was an idiot. Wait, Wade reviewed himself looking over his sweatshirt and jeans. Damn.  

After a stunned silence and looking questionably at the mugger and Wade, Peter held up his hands irritably, boredly perfusing,

“Oh. Oh, no. Whatever shall I do?”

 Though this thug was small time, Wade’s sense of protection came over him, his showmanship projecting. Wade pretended to dig in his pocket for the mugger, surprising him with a high kick to propel the gun out of the thug's hand, grabbing the stunned arm and twisting it behind the kid's back. He was not going to hurt him, but the idea of a gun being pointed at Peter incited something in Wade that made him want the kid to remember to never think about robbing on this block ever again, bending until he heard a not so subtle pop.

The thug hollered and trampled away empty-handed, as Wade looked on, clapping his hands clean, satisfied. Turning to Peter, his date looked unimpressed but smirking. He was not sure how to take that expression. Sure, it was a game for Wade, but Peter was a normal guy. This night could have gone a lot differently for him if Wade had not been here. What would have happened if he had not walked Peter home tonight, would this have been the last time he would have seen Peter alive? If this had been a few weeks ago, Wade would not have given it a second thought, praised the idea even. But now…

“Wow, so brave,” Peter commented, almost condescending, “My hero.” The words were undoubtedly sweet to hear. 

“Duh,” Wade replied, not sure why Peter was taking the assault so lightly. “I am a household name in these parts now. What kind of superhero would I be to not see my Louise Lane home safe?”

“A super bad one,” Peter said through a slight smile.

“Cause I am a superhero,” Wade confirmed with pride, hands on his hips looking toward a victorious light only illuminated in that precious little mind of his. Peter paid no mind as they continued to walk in silence for a few moments. Wade did not mind taking a bullet for a civilian when patrolling with Spider-Man, but he contemplated how he would die as many times as he would need to for Peter if he had to. The switch from jealousy to protection made Wade feel important and exposed all at once. He interrupted his introspection with his big mouth, “Was it good? Tonight, I mean. Was this a date? Do we call what we're doing dates? Cause it doesn’t have to be, ya know, but just in case it is-”

Peter chuckled awkwardly. “Yes…and yes.” Making a contested breath, “Thanks for everything tonight. It was nice- fun. I mean you are- erm,”

How cute he was, Peter attempting to say something, to comfort Wade. Even though the words were jumbled and disorganized, Wade did not need them to make sense. Peter had made himself clear the entire night. “You know this is a shady neighborhood,” Wade interjected.

“No, really?” Peter said sarcastically, holding a hand to his neck, clutching invisible pearls.

“You should learn to protect yourself better. I can give you a few tips.” Wade offered, puffing his chest out slightly.

“Oh yeah?” Peter asked, walking a little closer to Wade, their hands brushing accidentally in the slow pace.

Wade’s heart raced harder at the proximity. “Erm, yeah. Ya know, the basics. Maybe I can give you a lesson or two to protect yourself, so you’re not defenseless next time some creep tries to mug you.” Peter audibly laughed, throwing Wade off. Was he making fun of him? “Or worse!” Wade added, heightening his point.

“Or worse?” Peter questioned with a snicker, not taking Wade seriously.

“Like, way worse!”

Peter paused his breath a moment, taking Wade’s hand in his and holding it in a secure grip. Wade felt like his feet could scale the air from the touch, leaving his worries away with every step behind him. These little walks in the night were for moments like this. No expectations, just in each other's company. Where the two of them, together like this, were the most important few minutes of their lives. Wade treasured them. The final minutes of Peter thinking only of him, treasuring him too, if only for a few more seconds. Until the familiar brick of his building came up, and the long wait until the next walk home. Wade gripped Peter’s hand a little tighter.

“Sure, but if your lessons are anything like your Kombat back there, I'm afraid I won't learn much of anything.” Peter commented with a lackluster attitude.

“Did I not just show them off? That was only a fraction of my power, believe me.” Wade protested. Heart flustered now that their pace had come to a stop.

“If you say so,” Peter mocked. He took Wade’s hand and brought it up to his mouth, pressing the scarred skin to his lips. The slight pressure on his knuckles made Wade’s head dizzy. Even more so when Peter leaned onto him, not too much, but enough to feel Peter’s weight and warmth. Wade steadied himself to support the chest that was pressing against his, looking slightly down to commit the sight of those dilated hazel eyes to memory for another night. 

It was always the same, like Peter was trying to tell him something, looking for something, as if waiting for him to finally get it. All Wade could do was deliver a small kiss, Peter’s lips returned and moved against the surgical mask until needing more, he always wanted more even when he denied it. When he felt Peter’s skin against his, lapping the moisture at his lips, feeling the form under loose clothing, it was a silent truce of heated affection, one that would not lead Wade to walking up those steps. Wade was complacent with the haughty exchanges even though Spider-Man was always in the back of his mind, wishing it could be him, and going up those stairs would feel like a betrayal. But it was going to be a lonely night and Peter was holding him tight. Only this time of night where Peter’s guards faltered and let Wade fantasize while licking and sucking along his neck and jawline, taking in the scent that filled his nose, creating little love marks all the way as Peter sighed into them. All he wanted now was one more minute. At least, that is what Wade told himself when he saw the door to the apartment building close, and he was left alone on the sidewalk. His lips colder and his heart weaker with every second.