Honestly, all Wade wanted was one date. Just one - it didn’t even have to be romantic!
It could be, though.
Indeed, it could…
Shut up! You’re ruining the catchy intro!
Okay, yeah - Wade had more than a romantic interest for his spidery friend, but could you blame him? Oh, we could get into their chemistry, but I’d rather not. Just go read the damn comics.
Why would they be reading if they hadn't seen the comics?
The writer doesn’t even have the money to read the actual comics. They can only read snippets online.
Is that so? …Hmm, loser. Anyways!
Right. So, here he was, trailing behind the Spider-Man like a Minecraft dog. As the other leaped and swung from rooftop-to-rooftop, the mercenary kept up. And he kept blabbing, too.
“Whenever, wherever, we’re meant to be together,” he sang far too loudly, “I’ll be there, and you’ll be near-”
“Could you please be quiet? I’m trying to listen.” But they don't call him the Merc with a Mouth for nothing. Wade only stared for a moment. Then,
“...and that’s the deal, my dear!”
At that, Peter stopped in his tracks. Deadpool comically bumped into him, as though he didn't expect the halt. He hummed Spider-Man questioningly, and the latter glared.
“‘The deal’,” he quoted, “-was that if you’re gonna come along on a patrol, you’ll be quiet. How am I supposed to listen for trouble when you’re interrupting my senses with Shakira?” He would have yelled the last word for emphasis, if not for the setting. He settled for a slight raise in volume.
Shakira, Shakira~
I know those hips don’t lie, Spidey.
“That’s a different song from the one I was singing,” Wade muttered to both of them. Spider-Man watched, as he did.
Deadpool tried to sling an arm around the man’s shoulder but was intercepted. He spoke anyway, seemingly totally unbothered.
“If you weren't so focused on the sound of my voice, it wouldn’t be a problem.” Deadpool was not taking patrol seriously, despite his begging to come along and his promising to ‘behave’ (in his words, not mine.) “You could make me stop, though. You know, shut me up-”
“You really gotta get your mind outta the gutter.”
“What are you talking about?”
Spider-Man silently shook his head and made a ‘shushing’ motion to Deadpool. He turned around and webbed away quickly, but unfortunately for him, the mercenary continued to follow with glee.
KYUUUUTE! I love it when he’s frustrated with us.
Spider-Man sighed beneath his mask and continued moving. Deadpool, however, was not done with the conversation. Not by a long shot.
“So, hey,” he called mindlessly as they chased, “I got a question.”
Spider-Man didn’t turn around. “Yeah, what is it?” He was prepared for something stupid.
Not prepared enough.
What? Do you know what he’s going to ask? That’s not fair.
I don’t. We're insane in the membrane, though, and that should be enough of a warning label.
“Do you shoot webs out of your, you know, ‘webslinger’?” Under the mask, Peter nearly choked. The obvious innuendo, too… he kept moving.
You mean like, his pee-pee, right?
“If by that you mean my webslingers, on my wrists, then yes.”
Deadpool deadpanned. “How about your penis?”
Unfortunately, Spider-Man was more busy thinking about which building he was slinging to next and didn't feel like acknowledging Deadpool’s inappropriate question until after he mindlessly responded “uh, yeah.” He spluttered as Deadpool went on.
...Oh?
OH??
OH????
Ohh, here we go~ ♪
SCHHHHHHT!
Deadpool gaped, boxes going haywire as usual, trying to listen in as Spider-Man babbled a string of “NO, NO, NO-”s.
When Deadpool decided to ask if he could see, Spider-Man hitched in his movement for a second. No matter how prepared he thought he was for this patrol, Deadpool was Deadpooling.
“No, you tricked me! I wasn’t thinking.”
Deadpool was almost disappointed. Almost. Quick on his leather-clad feet as per usual, Deadpool responded on the fly.
“You can web me up anytime, bee-tee-dubs - regardless of where they come from.” Spider-Man scoffed over his shoulder at the merc. He was used to Deadpool’s incessant flirting by now. And, by the way, if you asked: no, he was NOT blushing under the mask!
For a moment, there was a pause - directed by Peter, who shushed Wade when he tried to ask what they were doing. No Spidey-Senses, though, and whatever Spider-Man thought he had heard was absent. So, they continued moving along.
“You tire me,” he stated.
It wasn't all true. Mostly true, but there was a lighthearted nature to it because this was just how they were. In all honesty, he sort of appreciated Deadpool’s company. Patrol can get boring when you’re doing your job right - that is to say, when not enough criminals are active, for this reason or that, to busy Peter for the time being.
“Damn, for real? I could have tired you in bed,” Deadpool commented. Peter takes back the good words he said in the last paragraph. He absolutely meant it, Wade tired him. He held back a shriek; a mix of embarrassment at the innuendo, concern as to how Wade thinks, and just overall shock at such a quick, smooth response.
“...How the hell do you come up with this stuff!?”
Honestly, did Deadpool ever even think before speaking?
With two to three different voices, yes.
Can confirm.
Deadpool snickered to himself in favour of responding, and Spider-Man would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't trying to keep them on the ground 20 feet below.
At some point, Deadpool had pulled out his phone and begun typing into his search bar. Spider-Man couldn’t see it, of course not, but he could tell by the sudden quietness on Wade’s part - which would have been eerie coming from someone like Deadpool , but, again, Peter’s Spidey-Senses weren’t triggered, so it was probably fine.
It was… kind of fine? Not really.
“If a spider can bite you and make you ‘Spider-Man’, can you bite me so I can be ‘your man?’”
It wasn’t fine.
“Uh,” he tried. What was he supposed to say to that? He paused, glancing around (avoiding Wade), then resumed his (lax) parkour.
Deadpool didn’t care. “Every Spider-Man needs a Mary Jane; can I be yours?” No, absolutely not, Spider-Man thinks. And wait, did he say-... How did he-?
Deadpool tries again. “I don’t mind getting caught in your web every day.” It shouldn't have made Peter blush, face hot under his suit. It did, though. Again, not something he’d proudly admit. Or at all, for that matter.
Really? I wanna see!
You can’t, this is text on a screen. Draw it if you wanna see it.
But… I’m text on a screen, too.
I wanna SEE fanfiction!
“Ah, uh, so, you see-”
“Hey Spidey,” Deadpool prepared, knowing there was no planned destination for Peter’s stuttered responses. Peter grit his teeth. This wouldn’t be good. “I’d travel through all of the Spider-verse, until I found a universe where you belong with me.”
This one was smooth, too, admittedly. Peter could say it definitely raised questions, however, other than of Wade’s intentions. He held his tongue, and his answer this time was a choked: “hMMMM.”
Wade continued reading off his screen to a confused and somewhat flustered Peter Parker. “...’Baby can you scream a little louder, I need to get this venom out?’ That one’s not even Spider-Man! Uhh, let’s see… oh!”
Finally, Spider-Man whipped around and webbed the phone out of Deadpool’s hand, like a grappling hook, to see what exactly he was reading from. The screen presented a list of pick-up lines themed around Spider-Man himself. The search bar read ‘how to rizz up spiderman.’ Spider-Man didn’t know what that meant, and he didn’t want to.
“Are you Spider-Man,” Wade recalled even without his phone, though looking helplessly over at the vigilante as though he didn’t know quite what to do without it. He looked like a toddler caught, guilty of stealing from the cookie jar. Spider-Man quirked a brow as he continued. “...‘Cause you sure as hell made me sticky.”
Spider-Man threw his phone. He considered himself lucky, as he did, that he hadn’t checked Wade’s search history beforehand. Deadpool was lucky to have all that mercenary training, too, or he wouldn't have caught it.
KEEP READING.
Wade squinted at his phone screen, now scrolled further down the list. He cleared his throat, and he could swear he witnessed Spider-Man flinch. Then, he opened his merc mouth with the selection on his tongue. He was grinning wickedly, like a villain who’s finally found the hero’s weakness. His intentions don't quite match, far from sinister.
“Please don’t leave me hanging, be my date tonight!” Any one-liner from Wade, found online or thought up himself--
Ah, ah. With my help. I’m the smooth operator, here.
Go fuck yourself, Yellow.
“Be nice.”
--…was always a gamble. Wade spat them out confidently each time, because he meant every word. (Yes, every word. Semi-colon, closing parenthesis.) How Spider-Man interpreted the flirtations was what made things difficult to gauge. Essentially, lines like this were like a ‘Schrödinger’s Pickup Line.’ Unless Spidey took it seriously, it was a joke.
The point?
Deadpool truly does want to be Spider-Man’s date. He prays to death that the hero will agree, but if he doesn’t - if he takes the offer as a joking remark, then Wade will have no choice but to just try again another day.
Don’t care. Gross. Sappy, even. I just wanna hear Spidey’s response, ya pizza-faced-fuck.
They had stopped moving a few minutes ago. Spider-Man stared blankly at Deadpool. Deadpool stared back somewhat hopefully, phone in his lap. The mercenary would gladly kill to know what he’s thinking right now.
Deadpool observed the way Spider-Man seemed to study him. He watched as the lenses in his mask familiarly whirred, nanotech allowing them to reshape with the expression of Peter’s eyes. Deadpool wasn’t the best at perceptiveness or social cues at this point. He tried, though, to analyse what he could of the body language of the man before him.
The seconds elapsed felt minutes longer than they were, before he finally coughed up a reply to Wade. “Sorry, but I gotta get back to patrol…” He wasn’t looking so sure of himself, Wade Wilson thought delusionally.
Maybe he’s considering, maybe he wants to-
“Nope. Not a chance, don’t get my hopes up.” As usual, Deadpool was talking to himself, or rather, the voices in his head which disguised as different personalities. Because Wade treated them as such. Peter held himself together as he listened, deciding not to ask questions, upon the certainty that Wade was in fact, talking to said voices.
Deadpool then murmured something directed to Peter about patrol, but it wasn’t important enough for Peter to truly think about it.
Oh, boo. That’s just lazy writing.
Deadpool glanced back at his phone. Spider-Man sighed and sat down with Deadpool, resigning himself to the onslaught of bad pick-up lines. Deadpool’s grin was clear through his mask, somehow. He scooted closer to Spider-Man, white masked eyes intensely glaring into the other pair. His voice had lowered to the sound he made when attempting sultry, and he was closer than necessary.
“We could do it on the ceiling, you know,” Deadpool suggested, visibly winking by the power of fiction. Peter shuddered as he quickly shot back, distancing himself again. He was red, much like the suit he was wearing, and thankful Wade couldn't see it. “Wade, no,” he spluttered, laughing along even as he tried his hardest to act annoyed.
Wade had already picked a new one: “My Spidey-senses tingle only for you-” Spider-Man scoffed over his smirk. “I’m going to hit you,” he threatened casually, simply.
“Please do.” Before Peter could even think about the response, Wade flipped his phone to face him, showing him a particular line, selected and highlighted blue. Peter read, unfortunatelyaloud, “‘Want to know what my... web tastes like?’” He flushed but continued, snickering loudly, “‘I, I could- shoot some in your mouth?!’ I-” Deadpool looked proud, but was quick.
“Will you? Will you!?-”
“I- NO! No,” Peter wheezed. Unfortunately, Wade dared finish his question. It was teasing, but something in Peter questioned Wade’s genuineness.
“What does the web taste like?!”
I have an idea!
Wade snickered more as he smirked to Yellow. Or, to himself, really…
Do tell, what's it taste like?
Teehee! Not in front of the reader!
“WELL YOU DEFINITELY AREN’T GONNA FIND OUT.” However, Spider-Man's words carried no venom.
Pun intended?
In fact, he was fighting back laughter of his own as Deadpool giggled. At this point, the two were practically cackling on the rooftop where they sat. Spider-Man begged, “just hush!”
Deadpool allowed the following silence to settle a false sense of ‘peace at last’ within Spider-Man. The two sat in a momentary silence, lulled until Deadpool was sure Spidey had lowered his guard again. Then, he read off another line: “Hey, baby girl, I hope you don’t mind me climbing up those walls-”
“STOP!”
“You have a lot of experience catching women who’ve been thrown off their feet; should I feel free to fall for you?” Deadpool winked, his mask expressing the movement in a way that contorted the visible intent on his face to look far more horrifying. Too late, by the way.
“Please,” Peter blinked, rolling his eyes although Wade certainly wouldn’t see it, “so I can drop you from a tall building.”
It was an empty threat, they both knew, because Spider-Man would never - even with the knowledge that Wade will simply heal and come back from death like it’s a nap - dream of putting another life in danger. Deadpool practically barked out a laugh. Then, he silenced himself, shuffling forward again and leaning close to Spider-Man, grinning brightly. “Anything for you, BB.” The man shook as he placed his hands on Wade’s chest and promptly shoved him away. Wade seemed mock-disappointed.
“Aww,” he audibly pouts, “I got excited for a second, your hands on me like that. Really thought things were gonna heat up.”
Peter huffed. “You make me want to retire.” He playfully shoved the mercenary again, this time knocking him over, as he rose to his feet. He briefly dusted the spandex of his legs, and quickly jumped off the edge of the building like a suicidal Wade W. Wilson. Except, he was Peter B. Parker, and he was merely using his webs to swing from building-to-building. That, and rather than suicidal, he was flustered and feeling a little shaky, and he didn't want Wade of all people to notice that.
He was... hiding, he supposed.
And, unbeknownst to him, so was Wade - in his own humorous way.
It was going to be a long night.