Have it your Way - Peter's POV
Peter woke groggy. His brain slowly clicked back on. His mouth and throat burned with thirst. He peeled his eyes open. Everything was painfully dry. His head pounded. His body ached. He reached for the cup of water on his nightstand but knocked it to the ground.
How long had he been asleep? His stomach growled. Too long. Far too long. He sat up and pulled the cast off his arm and leg. He had been drugged. The headache, burning throat, and sluggish thoughts were telltale signs.
Deadpool.
When he caught up with that idiot, he was going to shove his head so far up his ass. Who trusts Deadpool, anyway? Pain or not, he should have refused the meds and stayed awake. The merc wasn’t laying low; he was buying time until there wasn’t a vigilante watching him.
Peter's eyes landed on civilian clothes draped over a chair: a pair of grey sweatpants and a hoodie. He balled them up and shoved them in the trash. There was probably some kind of tracker on them. He wouldn't accept even a glass of water from Deadpool again.
His suit was just bloody rags, but they covered most of him. The wounds were healing, but everything felt fragile. He could tell everything was barely holding together.
Peter tracked Deadpool by following tweets about him scaring civilians in Brooklyn. He caught up to him on Bedford Ave. That spark of anger in him kicked up to a flame. Peter's vision seemed to narrow down to Deadpool's very breakable face. He dropped down on his web and kicked him so hard he spun into traffic and bounced back, knocking over a few pedestrians as he tried to stay on his feet. What an absolute tool.
The New Yorkers scattered back. Some of them pulled out phones. He dropped neatly to the ground. He wished they would leave. He wanted to make a crater with Pool's body.
“Webs!” Deadpool yelled. He was smiling and waving at him. Peter responded by hitting him with two webs, but Wade grabbed the webs and pulled Peter into a Burger King.
“I’ll be having it my way,” Wade chirped happily. “You, broken and not interfering.”
Peter hit his head so hard he saw stars. His vision faded in and out as he tried to focus. This was not the way he pictured things going. His hand slipped as he tried to push himself up. He managed to knock his chin off the ground. Growling, he pushed himself up. He got back up, because that's what Spider-Man did. He used one hand on his head to try to stop the spinning.
“You should stay down, Peaches.”
Peter spun around, trying to focus on Deadpool. The merc was standing with his arms crossed, grinning.
“I only saved your ass because I owed you. I’m not a good guy,” he said, his voice lowering, grating over Spider-Man-like sandpaper. “I will hurt you.”
His spider-sense didn’t have time to warn him. The gun was out and fired before he could react, and it caught him on the shoulder. He stumbled back and watched as his blood splattered the sidewalk. Maybe he should tap out, call a friend. He opened his mouth but had to bite his words back as he tried to put space between them. Wade was coming fast and hard with both katanas out. It took all of his concentration to stay away from the blades.
“People think guns are more dangerous,” Wade said, like they were normal people having a normal conversation. Like Peter wasn’t currently fighting for his life. “But the adrenaline keeps you from really feeling the cuts. You’ll be dead before you know you’re bleeding out.”
Peter danced far enough out of reach that he was able to get into the air. He paused only to yell out, “I’m going to put the dead in Deadpool!”
Scrambling up the side of the Burger King and looking down, Wade had a stupid look on his face, like he wasn’t expecting that. He shot out a web and yanked one of the swords away. A bullet ripped through his right arm again, and he fell back, the sword clanging onto the roof nearby.
He took a moment, laying in a pool of his own blood that was only getting bigger. He made some choices that led to this point. Some bad Parker luck, that’s for sure. He definitely wasn’t making any Deadpool craters. He could hear the merc scrambling up the wall. He turned his head as Wade climbed onto the roof.
Wade leveled him with a look, and Peter suddenly felt like a spider with his legs plucked off. He shouldn’t feel this way. He needed to dig up that rage and get on his feet. Swing Deadpool into the ground. Kick him in the head so hard he fell off the roof. Instead, he just lay there, holding his gaze.
Wade heaved a sigh and pointed at him. “Don’t follow me.” He turned and looked down at the road.
“Wait,” Peter pushed himself up on one arm. “Why did you drug me?”
“You wouldn’t shut up. I needed you unconscious. This is a bloody hunt, and I didn’t want a breakable bug following me.”
“I’m not a bug,” Peter grumped.
“Sure, Peaches.” Wade turned to get down from the roof, and Peter crawled to his feet. Blood dripping thickly. Splat, splat, splat. He lifted his head to protest when Wade kneed him in the head. He dropped and felt the merc's boot grind down on his chest.
“Stay,” the weight on his chest increased, “down.” He put the rest of his weight on his chest. He felt his ribs pop, and his vision went black. How many times was he going to lose consciousness?
He managed to get his hands on the boot and shoved. Wade went flying with a satisfying yelp. Peter thought he could hear him hitting the ground. He let himself relax. He could take a moment to lick his wounds. Did one of his ribs puncture a lung? It was hard to breathe, and he could hear gurgling.
“Broken ribs are the worst,” he groaned. He was hearing sirens, which meant he needed to put some distance between here and himself. Standing was painful. He moved to the edge of the building and looked down. Deadpool was well dead. He felt a lot, all at once.
Dead.
The sirens got louder. The streets filled with flashing blue and red.
People were yelling.
Dead.
Peter was underwater.
Because he caused that. He threw Wade over the building.
People were yelling.
A light shined on him.
He jerked away, the lighting suddenly pulling him painfully out of his panic attack. He had to move. They had spotted him and were coming. Move, Parker!
He turned and ran, jumping and shooting a web. Pulling himself away from the scene.
Away from Wade’s dead body.