End Of Beginning

Peter

Peter hears Deadpool come in and Matt leave but he stays nestled in his pillow. He turned his head to the side once he realises that he couldn’t breathe very well with his face shoved into the pillow. He was done with not receiving enough oxygen for one night.

Deadpool’s usually heavy steps are light as he comes into the room. They stop once he’s in the doorway and Peter prepares himself to hear some type of remark about the holes in the wall, but none come, instead, the side of his bed sinks down as Deadpool sits on it.

“Hey Peter.” Peter turns his head slightly, surprised to see a man in a hoodie instead of the usual leather mask.

“Hey.” He turns back, not sure if they were showing each other full faces or not.

“Your cute neighbour said there was some sort of emergency, I expected you to be dead on the floor, not curled up in your bed.”

“Yeah well, had you been here a little earlier you would have seen me dead on the floor like Matt had.” Peter hears Deadpool take in a deep breath before sighing.

“I didn’t kill the Scorpion guy. But I also didn’t get him. He killed me a couple times before getting me with that tail of his and running off. Lemme tell you, I’ve done drugs that you would probably have a stroke trying to pronounce, but none of them were ever as insane as whatever that guy got me with.” His voice was sombre, but Peter huffs out a small laugh.

“What did you see?” Deadpool shrugs, leaning back against the wall. He could see Peter’s face if he turned his head even slightly to the side, but he didn’t. Peter could see the outline of his nose in the light of the billboard, the rest of his face hidden by his sweatshirt hood.

“I didn’t see much of anything, but I was hearing some crazy shit. Crazier than what I’m usually hearing.” Peter nods, turning towards the man a bit more. “I jumped off a couple of buildings, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t tried before. Definitely died a lot more today than my wife likes.” Peter wasn’t used to this calm, sad Deadpool, and he wasn’t sure how it made him feel.

“We can’t get stabbed by his tail anymore, that has to be the first thing we get rid of.” Deadpool nods in agreement.

“This isn’t some sort of suicide watch, right?”

“No, it’s not. My neighbour just doesn’t trust me to be alone right now after seeing the aftermath of… that.”

Deadpool continued to shift on the bed, trying to get comfortable. Peter finally sits up, handing him a pillow. Deadpool turns his head and the two make eye contact. Peter realises his suspicions were correct, Deadpool doesn’t have eyelashes.

“Hey cutie.” Deadpool whispers, smirking slightly. Peter hits him with the pillow before laying back down.

“Hey yourself.” The two settle into momentary silence, choosing not to expand on each other's appearance. As curious as Peter is about the man's disfigured and scarred skin he didn’t think it was important to bring right now.

“Why’d he call me?” Deadpool asks, interrupting the silence. Peter, who’s eyes had begun to flutter slightly, sits up.

“I already told you Dea-”

“Wade.” He interrupts. Peter smiles.

“I already told you, he didn’t want me to be alone.”

“No, I mean, out of everyone, why did he call me?”

Peter purses his lips, unsure of what to say.

“Because you are everybody, Wade.” The other man snorts, shaking his head.

“That was a super poetic way of saying you have no friends.”

“Was it? I never liked poetry much.”

“My wife likes poetry.”

Peter nods. MJ liked poetry as well. He wonders, if she hadn’t forgotten him, if they would still be together by now. They would have gone to MIT together, and could have gotten an apartment together with Ned. He stops himself from thinking further as his stomach turns tightly, tuning back into Wade, who was still talking.

“Sorry Wade, I wasn’t listening to anything you were saying, I sort of zoned out.” Wade nods.

“That’s okay.” He stands up, patting Peter’s hip with one of his massive hands. “I’m going to clock out in the living room, you should get some sleep as well. Call me if you need me.” Peter nods, turning away from the wall. He could see Wade plopping down on the recliner in the living room through his bedroom door. He watched Wade scroll on his phone for a bit, the light casting shadows in the ridges of his face and highlighting the puckered scars. Curiosity was gnawing at him. Maybe Peter could ask about it in the morning.

Peter drifts in and out of sleep for about an hour, keeping his eye on the corner of his room that he had seen his aunt in for most of the night. He had gotten up and rushed to the bathroom at one point, dry heaving into the toilet until tears and sweat salted his face.

Once he was back in his bedroom he ripped off the fresh shirt that he had changed into after Matt had stitched him up. The collar clung tight to his bruised and scarred neck, reminding him too much of the feeling of his own hands wrung around it.

He felt deprived of air for the whole night, his breath wheezing in and out of his lungs noisily. He couldn’t get comfortable. Most nights when sleep didn’t come he would go out and patrol, but he was in no state, physical or mental, to go out right now.

He scrolled on his phone for a couple of hours instead, getting lost in cat videos and clips from old cooking shows. He checked and replied to work emails and then spent the rest of his night taking apart his computer and putting it back together. Over, and over, and over again until the sun rose and cast warm rays on his bare back.

He could feel Wade staring at him from the living room, watching intently as Peter’s nimble fingers worked. Finally he put his computer together for the final time, shelving it and getting up. He tried putting a shirt back on before leaving his room, but all of the collars were too tight for his liking. He leaves his room without a shirt on, prepared for whatever Wade was going to say.

“You should probably change your bandage.” Is not what he was expecting him to say. Peter looks back at his bandage. It was clean except for a little bit of blood that had soaked through. Peter nods, ripping the bandage off and throwing it into the kitchen garbage can. Wade whistles.

“That's a good one. Thought you were supposed to have super healing or something.”

“Yeah well, I haven’t eaten or slept in a while so there’s nothing super about my healing at the moment.” Peter replies, slathering a small layer of vaseline over the large wound. He grabs the other med kit that he kept in the kitchen and grabs a bandage and tape out of it. “Could you help me, I can’t reach?” Wade nods, getting up from his chair to patch up his back.

“How’d you sleep?” He asks. Peter shrugs and Wade’s rough hands shift against his back.

“I didn’t. How’d you sleep?” Deadpool removes his hands, leaning against the counter.

“About the same as you.” He walks over to Peter’s fridge and opens it. There’s almost nothing but condiments. He clicks his tongue. “You wanna get out for a bit? Get some food?” Peter nods, moving into his room to get dressed. He chose to put on a button up flannel, leaving far too many buttons undone to be stylish in order to avoid having a tight collar before realising that his neck was still bruised. He was going to have to wear something to hide it.

He ended up throwing on a sweater and shorts, pulling up his hood to match Wade. The two walk aimlessly down the street looking for food. Peter notices that Wade had thrown on sunglasses, and stares mostly at the ground.

“Why are you hiding your face?”

Wade looks over at him, raising the skin where his eyebrows would be.

“When you have a face like mine you’re kind of expected to.” He replies, turning back to the ground.

“I like your face.” Peter choses to say. Wade smiles and Peter’s glad he chose to say it.

“Here, c’mon in here.” Wade says, cutting off Peter's path to go into a sketchy looking corner building. The door opens with a ding and Peter is met with an overwhelming mouthwatering smell. Behind the counter is a woman with dark hair tucked up in a bun. When she turns her head Peter can see a white streak in it. Wade removes his sunglasses and slinks over to the counter. Peter follows behind.

“Hello ma’am.” He purrs. The woman turns around, surprised to see him. Her face flashes with anger before she sees Peter. She relaxes a bit.

“Wade. Where’d you go last night?” Wade slides into a seat, smiling at the woman. Peter stands a bit behind, observing their interaction.

“I told you I had to go out. My buddy Peter here had a little bit of a medical emergency.” He says, jutting his thumb over his shoulder at Peter, who smiles shyly and waves.

“Hi.” He says. The woman smiles kindly at him, turning away from Wade.

“Hi honey, are you hungry? Wade’ll treat you.”

“She’s right, I will.” Wade agrees, laying down on the counter. Peter sits next to him and looks at the board above. It looks like Wade had brought him into a sandwich place and Peter’s mood instantly lifts. They had chopped cheese. He loves chopped cheese.

“I’ll get a chopped cheese, please.” Peter says. The woman smiles and writes it down.

“Yeah, I’ll do the same, thanks babe.” The woman nods before moving behind the counter and into the kitchen.

“Is that your wife?” Wade nods, smiling.

“The one and only. For now.”

“Oh fuck off Wade.” Echos out from the kitchen.

“Yeah, that's Vanessa. I didn’t think she’d be working today but she usually works here during the day. I didn’t realise it was so close to your apartment.” Peter nods, smiling as Vanessa places a glass of water down in front of him

“What does she do during the night?” Wade smirks.

“Lets just say that body sells better than sandwiches do.” Peter blushes.

“Oh. Got it.” Peter chugs down almost the full glass of water before moving to itch at his neck. It was beginning to scab in some spots and was quite uncomfortable. Wade grabs his hand and moves it away from his neck.

“I saw that you had some holes in your wall. Have those always been there?” Peter shakes his head, twiddling his thumbs to distract his hands from scratching at his neck more.

“No, that happened before this.” He says pointing to his neck. “Do you know how to fill holes in walls?”

“The only holes I know how to fill are-”

“Wade, stop.” Vanessa says, emerging from the kitchen with two plates, stacked with sandwiches and fries. “I wasn’t sure if you liked fries or not, but Wade will eat them if you don’t.” She smiles before taking off her apron. Another woman walks into the kitchen and Vanessa walks out from behind the counter.

“I’m going for my smoke break, if you guys are gone by the time I’m back it was lovely to meet you Peter.” She puts out her hand and Peter shakes it. Her hands were soft, nails much longer than Karen’s and painted a sparkly red colour. Up close Peter can see her long eyelashes, the fake ones Deadpool had mentioned once.

“Yeah it was nice meeting you too.” She moves and gives Wade a peck on the cheek.

“Ellie is at her friend's house tonight, can you pick her up for dinner? I have an early shift tonight.” Wade nods.

“You got it.” Vanessa smiles before finally leaving out the front. Wade sighs happily. “Hate to see her go, love to watch her leave.”

“Ew Wade.” Peter says before digging into his meal. He shoves a couple fries into his mouth before taking a bite of his sandwich. He breathes through his mouth as the sandwich burns his tongue. He’s never patient enough to wait for the meat to cool down.

“God, you always eat sandwiches in a weirdly erotic way.”

“I’m starving.” Peter reasons, speaking through a mouthful of food. Wade nods, eating a few fries.

“I do know how to patch a hole in the wall, to answer your question from earlier. Ellie busts holes in the walls at home all the time.” Peter tilts his head. This was the second mention of Ellie and he had know clue who she was. He swallows before talking again.

“Who’s Ellie?”

Wade looks at him confused.

“My daughter.” He deadpans. If Peter had food in his mouth he would have choked.

“You have a daughter?” Deadpool nods.

“Did I never mention that?” Peter shakes his head frantically, mouth agape as he stares at Wade. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you really that surprised that I have a kid?”

“I mean, yeah, you kill people for a living, for starters.” Wade waves it off like his profession is no big deal.

“She doesn’t need to know that.” Peter takes a bite of his food, processing this new information. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it.

“Oh fuck off, this can’t be that suprising to you? I probably have a million kids that I don’t know about, I’ve had a lot of sex, and a lot of it without condoms.” Peter wrinkles his nose.

“Ew Wade, that’s not what I mean. I just didn’t realise your life was so put together. Married AND a dad.” Deadpool snorts.

“Peter, do you know how old I am?” Peter shakes his head. “Okay, good, let’s keep it that way. Let’s just say I’m pretty fucking old. I am only now starting to feel like my life is put together, so you have no reason to worry about feeling behind.”

Peter furrows his brows.

“What makes you think that was what I was referring to? I’m not behind.”

“Pete, I’m your only friend, your life sucks balls.” Peter wants to respond that he’s not his only friend, but he’s not sure what Matt and Karen qualify as. Really close neighbours? Karen isn’t even his neighbour really.

“Okay, even if it sucks balls that doesn’t mean that I feel behind.”

“Stop lying to yourself.”

“I’m not.” Peter huffs out, turning away from Wade.

“M’kay, eat your sandwich huffy baby.”

~~~~~~

Peter hadn’t realised how exhausted he was until Wade and him had parted ways. He had no clue how Wade had known how to get to the sandwich place so well when he didn’t even live in Hell’s Kitchen. How often was he visiting his wife at work?

Peter pulls out his phone to find his way home, not sure how to himself. It was only a ten minute walk but it felt like it took hours. Peter’s legs ached as he made his way up his stairs, and he could have sworn he heard angels singing when he saw his apartment door.

“Peter?”

Peter groans and the angels crash and burn around him.

Karen, who had just gotten off of the elevator, approaches him from behind.

“Do you even live in your own apartment?” He asks, surprised to see her back here again. Karen laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I do, I’m just picking up some paperwork that Matt left in his apartment.” A thick tension falls over them once she finishes talking and Peter shifts on his feet. “Um, Matt told me what happened.” She says. Peter feels cold dread wash over him.

“He did?” Karen nods.

“I’m so sorry that you’re dealing with something so hard by yourself.” Peter shrugs.

“I’m not, I’ve got Matt.” Karen nods sadly, and Peter understands what Matt had meant when he said that a pitiful Karen was horrifying. He wants to puke.

“Yeah, but there’s only so much help that Matt can provide. Have you considered rehab or therapy?” Peter falters, confused.

“What?” Karen grimaces, an apologetic look on her face.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, this isn’t my place for input.”

“No, what are you talking about?”

The two of them stare at each other, both wearing confused expressions.

“Your drug problems?” Karen squeaks out quietly.

Peter almost laughs. He knows he had told Matt not to tell Karen about Spider-Man but he didn’t think that he would straight up lie to Karen about him having drug problems instead.

“Matt told you that what happened last night was because of a drug problem?” Karen nods slowly, clearly still confused. Peter does laugh this time. He had never done drugs, always shied away from even the smell of weed at high school parties, and now Karen thought he was having crazy drug fueled freakouts.

“Mhm, yeah. Sorry you had to see me… suffering… from drugs?” Karen wraps Peter in a tight hug and Peter is glad that she probably chalked his awkward sentence up to being embarrassed or something.

“I’m always here if you need to talk to someone.” Karen whispers. Peter nods, pulling away and walking back towards his apartment door.

“Say hi to Matt for me.” Peter says, quickly entering his apartment before he can get a response.

Fucking great. Now Karen thought he was doing drugs. Maybe he should do drugs, that could help him sleep.