taken out

When Wade got a text from Peter saying that he kind of needed someone to vent about something to, asking if he could vent to Wade, he'd been expecting something Spider-Man related. 

Instead, Wade sat himself down next to Peter on the same rooftop they kept meeting on, and he listened to Peter describe something terrible.

"When I was ten," Peter began, "I was really fucking smart."

"You're still really fucking smart," Wade absently muttered, just guessing off of the conversations they'd had. Peter snorted.

"I was in a public library, reading a book about space. That was where I met him."

Nah. Nah. Not this. Wade was starting to get a vague sense of where this was going, from that last sentence. 

"His name was Skip Westcott. Steven Westcott, actually, but he was called Skip. He called me Einstein because I was so smart. He was my only friend. I adored him." Peter cleared his throat, almost sounding ashamed. "My aunt and uncle were thrilled. I had a friend! So they let him start babysitting me, since he was older."

Peter hesitated, so Wade made a sound of affirmation. He was listening. Wade was a better listener than you might think. He was a great talker, but he was also a great listener. 

"It was always fine. And then one day, Skip showed me this stupid magazine he had. He called it a girlie magazine. It was-it was a porn magazine." Peter clenched and unclenched his hands. 

"No fucking way." It slipped out before Wade could stop himself. "He did not."

Peter's sad smile was just confirmation, but he kept going anyway.

"He wanted to, to 'conduct an experiment'. I couldn't say no. I-I mean, I tried, but I was too scared to actually leave. Maybe if I had really tried to stop him, or-or actually just up and left, maybe then it wouldn't have happened. But I didn't. And you know what's worse, Wade?" Peter's voice shook. "After it happened, through all the fear and horror and utter shame at what happened, I had an inkling of pride. Someone wanted my scrawny, nerdy, useless self. There was someone who wanted that. I'm disgusting."

Wade felt genuine indignation rise up in him. 

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Wade raised a semblance of an eyebrow at Peter. "I don't appreciate people talking shit about my possibly-boyfriend, sir,"

Peter choked out a laugh.

"Even your possibly-boyfriend?" He questioned.

"Especially him." Wade replied with all the snark he could conjure. 

"I'm not talking shit, anyway," Peter forged on, completely ignoring the term used to refer to him. "I'm spitting facts, bro."

"Oh, don't you bro-zone me, bitch." Wade complained. "And spitting what, you said? Facts? That right there was a lie, you liar."

"On what goddamn grounds!" Peter refuted.

"On the grounds that it was a sexual assault. You didn't want it. You were too scared to leave. You were also too young to actually consent, so even if you'd said yes, it would've been wrong. This Skip bastard was the one in the wrong, not you." Wade blurted. "You're literally traumatized, man, that kinda says something about the incident."

Peter fell quiet.

"I don't believe you." He decided. "You're lying to me. Everyone says that. General consensus is usually wrong. I'm a non-conformist, you ass. Stop trying to conform me. Assimilate me. You're the Borg. I'm resisting. Bastard."

Wade found a smile on his face in Peter's rambling. There was Peter Parker, in the midst of all that trauma and Spider-Man. A cute nerd with a side of sarcasm and puns.

"Resistance is futile," Wade tried to pass it off like he had no idea what he was referring to, but Peter's awestruck look made him grin. "What, you think I've never seen Star Trek? It's the greatest sci-fi on the planet, baby boy, I've absolutely seen it."

"Well, it's not the greatest, I mean there's always Star Wars and Stargate and--wait, 'baby boy'?" Peter repeated incredulously. His face was all sorts of different shades of red. Wade thought it was pretty fucking cute.

{ So fucking cute. }

[ If we don't bag this guy as our boyfriend, I'm leaving this fucking brain. ]

{You can't do that. You're too stupid. }

Ignoring the voices in his head, Wade smirked at Peter.

"Mmhmm." Wade nodded to himself. "I gotta list of things I could call you, if you'd like to hear it." He winked for added effect, and Peter stood up abruptly.

For a second Wade thought he'd gone too far, but then he recognized the embarrassment and simultaneous amusement in Peter's eyes and reddened face.

"OK ANYWAY GOODNIGHT WADE." Peter loudly said, about to fly off before pausing. He leaned down and planted a small kiss on Wade's cheek, much to Wade's surprise. Then, even more red, Peter activated his suit. "SLEEPTIGHTBYESEEYOULATERTHANKSFORLISTENINGTOMEBYE."

And then he swung off, crashing into the side of a building only once on his way off.

Wade let his fingers brush lightly against the side of his mask where Peter had kissed him.

For that man, Wade would do anything.

COOL BLIND GUY: Wade

COOL BLIND GUY: I need your help with something Peter-related

COOL BLIND GUY: He told me about you so he obviously told you about him right

DEADPOOL: is the help kidnapping, torturing, and subsequently brutally murdering skip westcott? because if so i am so down im literally in hell

COOL BLIND GUY: You read my mind. Track him down and we can meet up somewhere.

DEADPOOL: sounds fucking awesome. you wanna do the killing or should i? wait, here's a great idea: let's do it together!!!! best friends!!!!

[seen]

"Where am I? What's happening?" Wow. Wade had just heard the voice of Skip Westcott. He couldn't wait to hear it screaming in agony!

"Hiya, Skip! Or, wait--it's Steven now, isn't it?" Wade tilted his head as he pulled off Westcott's blindfold, grinning at the confusion in Westcott's eyes. "Whatever. Westcott it is. Do you know why you're here?"

"N-no! I don't have any money! Leave me alone! Just-just--go away!" Westcott cried. Oooh, that fear was music to Wade's ears. Beautiful, beautiful music.

Daredevil would meet him when Wade texted him that it was time for the final blow. Torture wasn't really Daredevil's thing, so he left it up to Deadpool.

"What bad things have you done, Westcott? Confess to your sins, and all that." Wade didn't care about anything other than Westcott confessing to hurting Peter.

"I-I don't know?" He was nervous. Good. "I-I really don't know!" 

"Let me try and ring a bell for you." Wade glared at Westcott. "You were a babysitter when you were a teenager right?"

Westcott's face twisted in confusion.

"What? No, I only--" Realization settled on his face, and he twisted into conceited anger. "So little Einstein put you up to this, huh?"

Wade snarled. 

"No, he didn't. But you know who I am, Westcott?" Westcott shook his head. "My name's Deadpool. That one ring a bell for you?"

Westcott shuddered with fear. Of course, Deadpool's name was famed. He was a mercenary with the highest rate of kills ever to be confirmed--of course he was feared.

"And you know who I like to kill? People like you. Child molesters."

"I AM NOT A CHILD MOLESTER!" Westcott cried indignantly. "He didn't--he didn't stop me! Besides, I was just a kid, I didn't know what I was doing."

"Oh, yeah?" Wade sighed. "Unfortunately, that's a valid defense out there. Fortunately, for me at least, it's bullshit in here. The fact that you can even say that proves that you know it's not true. So, let's get started."

It was when Westcott's hand was dripping with sticky red blood and he was lacking in more than a few fingers that he finally started to crack.

"I-I'm sorry! I regret it! I didn't! I--" Westcott screamed in pain as Wade tiredly took a curved blade to Westcott's middle finger. It cut through the flesh without a sound and led to blood pooling around the sharp end. 

"Do you really regret it?"

"YES!" Westcott sobbed, but Wade rolled his eyes. What a drama queen, honestly. He hadn't even gotten to the rest of the body yet!

Westcott passed out a few times. Wade was always able to slap him back awake. 

Once Westcott was missing all of his fingers, almost all of his toes, both of his nipples--it was too funny to resist--one eye, and both of his lips, Wade was finally satisfied. He'd also beaten the guy black and blue with his fists, which felt nice. 

DEADPOOL: im done bestie lets kill this bitch!!!

Daredevil showed up within five minutes. He didn't seem very surprised by the state of Westcott.

"You really went to town on him, huh?" There was amusement in his voice. "Nice."

For the killing blow, they agreed that Daredevil would strange Westcott while Wade got to fill him up with bullets. But to make it fair, Daredevil got to strangle him for at least thirty seconds.

Those thirty seconds were really entertaining for Wade. Westcott's face turned interesting shades of purple and he tried to thrash but he was still tied up.

When the thirty seconds were up, Daredevil let up for just a moment.

"You're about to die, so you can be honest with me." Wade felt the weight of what he was about to say. "Tell me honestly. If all this hadn't happened, would you really regret it?" 

Westcott didn't even think about it. A bloody smile spread across his face.

"'Course not." Skip Westcott gave Wade the most disturbing answer ever. "Why would I regret the best fuck in my life?"

That was all Wade needed. Daredevil stepped to the side, tightening his grip again as Wade cocked his guns.

"Thanks. Now I don't need to have any regrets about killing you." Wade pulled the trigger more times than he really registered. Blood was everywhere. The gunshots rang through the air loudly. Wade didn't stop even after Daredevil let go. 

The red vigilante placed a hand upon Wade's shoulder.

"Wade. It's over. He's dead." Daredevil softly informed him.

Wade wasn't sure why he felt like this. He wanted to twist Westcott's head off of his body.

Oooh, could he twist Westcott's head off of his body?

To Daredevil's annoyance, Wade did in fact do so. It was quite satisfying.

That felt good. 

Hopefully Peter wouldn't be too mad.