Deadpool was... an odd duck. He splashed around, ruffled the feathers of people far stronger than him, and still managed to make time for fun-and-games while on the job--something Peter hadn't managed to figure out despite years of experience.
So Peter put up with the flirting--he knew hero worship when he saw it (he had gawked at Captain America the first time they met too)--and just made himself a simple promise: not to flirt back. Deadpool didn't need the encouragement, and feelings were difficult. Scary. Feeling things, in Peter's experience, got people hurt and their lives torn apart. Even if Deadpool wasn't able to be killed, there were some things worse than death.
So Peter shut up, and tried--really and desperately--tried not to let the small spark of affection he had for Wade Wilson blow into a fiery inferno they couldn't escape.
1.
The important thing to remember about Deadpool was that he was always hungry. He ate enough to kill men three times his size--not that Peter could talk--and he always brought food to share. They had only known each other for a few months at this point, and had already teamed up a few times (with Daredevil in tow) to take out a few mobsters and their drug-smuggling pals.
So they weren't... close. They were kind of close. Not really. A little.
It was complicated. Peter didn't really like complicated when it came to people--he'd much rather have a complicated chemistry problem than a complicated relationship--so he tried not to think about it too much.
Still, Deadpool seemed to really want to be around him. Peter had come to both expect and enjoy his company whenever he was out and about at night, lounging on rooftops and watching pigeons nest.
He also enjoyed the food. Deadpool brought great food, the kind that was just too expensive for Peter to splurge on for himself. He wondered if it was a neat little psychology trick Deadpool was trying to pull--getting him to associate warmth and comfort and being full with a red mask and katanas--but he guessed it really didn't matter.
It didn't bode well for his burgeoning crush: for whatever reason, a small part of him was very quietly pleased that Deadpool was trying to help him out, bringing him a meal or two to try and match his overly active lifestyle.
He didn't even question how the man found him all the time: it wasn't like Spiderman was easy to miss. The colours of his suit were bright enough that, once someone looked up and saw him sitting on a building or swinging from a web, he was easy to keep an eye on. So when Deadpool first started showing up, he didn't assume the worst (okay, he did a little--but he respected his fellow superhero enough to give him the benefit of the doubt).
There was an entire hashtag on Twitter dedicated to spotting him after all; it was a pain when he was in the middle of fighting a villain and someone was livetweeting like there was no tomorrow, location on when he was trying to hide out and catch his breath. If he ever did get killed on the job, it was going to be a Spiderman stan that did him in. Seriously.
"Hey, muffin!" Deadpool called out, a gloved hand holding a bag of food visible as he waved it around furiously. His head peeked over the ledge, the white eyes of his mask communicating an eerie amount of fondness. "I brought you muffins!"
Peter whooped, hopping to his feet and hauling DP up the rest of the way by his wrist. His mask wasn't nearly as expressive as the merc's, but hopefully it did its job at communicating the gratitude he was too afraid to mention aloud, at the risk of sounding choked up. It wasn't like Peter was rich--he was getting through college, living by himself, and spending most of his money funding his nighttime activities. It meant a lot that someone... actually cared about him. Brought him food.
"How's life, Wilson?" He flopped onto his back as soon as Deadpool had his feet firmly on the ground, gazing up at the stars he could just barely see through the cloud of smog that covered New York. "Meet any pretty ladies? Get a dog?"
"No ladies and no dog," Deadpool said, sounding unreasonably forlorn compared to his giddy shout just moments ago. "But, I may have managed to score and invitation to chill out with the Avengers at some unspecific point in the future." He lowered himself to the ground, sitting criss-cross-applesauce next to Peter's head, the bag of muffins sat down gently next to him.
Peter tried not to smile. Deadpool was all but vibrating with glee at the prospect of meeting the Avengers officially. Something that Peter may or may not have played a role in.
He sat up.
"Here!" Deadpool said, fishing a muffin out of the bag, peeling down the paper wrapping, and handing it over. "Only the best for my Spidey-Babe!"
Peter's heart was maybe made a little, tiny bit soft by the gesture. "You don't have to bring me food, you know? I don't want to like... waste your money." As much as he sometimes needed a little extra food to keep up with his crazy metabolism, he didn't want to be the reason Deadpool couldn't afford to make rent, or couldn't afford to patch up his (often damaged) suit.
Maybe he would try a little harder not to rip his suit this month, and take Deadpool out to get a real dinner.
"I like bringing you food," Deadpool said simply, only turning his face away slightly when he pulled his mask up to his nose and bit into his own muffin.
All in all, shared dinners and hushed secrets made for a pretty romantic setting. Peter kind of wished he had the bravery to indulge the small, small voice in his skull that wanted him to pull Deadpool in close until they were nose-to-nose, breath mingling.
He wasn't that brave, though, so he didn't.
2.
Deadpool was insisting Peter call him Wade; Peter wasn't against it, and it was less intimidating than Deadpool, Merc With a Mouth, or Asshole. It was also slightly personal, which meant Peter was extra grateful that they kept their masks on, and knowing his real name out of the question. Unfortunately, with the way Wade was acting, Peter was more inclined to call him a prick than any endearing or kind pet-name (or his real name).
Sometimes--very rarely, of course--Peter made webs. Not like the ones he shot out in order to swing around, but an intricate design that he could rest on. He never did it where he thought anyone would be able to see it (mutants already had a bad rep; he didn't need people catching onto his less-than-human hobbies), and he didn't really think Deadpool would be in town.
Unfortunately, he happened to be on Fate's bad side.
Wade had been out of town for the last three days, so Peter thought he would be in the clear--he would be able to satiate the weird, arachnid part of his brain that demanded attention in peace.
But-
"Oh, wow," Wade breathed, crouching on the roof that one side of Peter's web was attached to, helping him remain elevated in the air between two dilapidated buildings that framed a narrow, dingy alley. "Did you make that, Spidey?"
Peter wanted to be snarky--he hadn't been able to sleep recently, and he'd missed Wade with his jokes and friendship and food. He was irritated, enough that the words, 'Who else would have made it, dumbass,' were on the tip of his tongue, begging to be released. But Wade didn't deserve that (he had his own life, he reminded himself angrily. He didn't need to hang out with Peter every day of the week), so he rolled over onto his side and let out a noncommittal, "Mhm."
Wade sat down, careful not to let his legs touch the sticky web as he eased himself onto the ledge, feet kicking the empty air. He picked up a small bit of gravel, and poked it at the web carefully, his eyes trained on his lap. The bit of gravel stayed, stuck to the strand it had touched, and Peter let the vibrations flow through his body.
It was... kind of nice.
Wade clearly had no idea what he was doing; he was wound tight, back stiff and curiously quiet. Still, Peter knew that the person messing with his webs wasn't a foe--not just rationally, either. The mutant part of him seemed sure of that fact as well.
Another vibration made its way up the web, and Peter sighed out his tension. "I... missed you," he said quietly, sounding more genuine than he had wanted to. He didn't look up, but it didn't take an expert to know that Wade felt the same way as he coughed out an, "I missed you too."
They sat there for hours, not a word exchanged between them. Just some vibrations that may have had more meaning than they should have.
3.
Peter choked on a laugh. Deadpool was... dancing.
Not just dancing--break-dancing. Or as close to break-dancing as someone could get without any knowledge on the style.
They were on the pavement of New York City for once, the skyscrapers looking taller than they ever did when they were perched on roofs like massive turtle-doves. It had been time, in Peter's humble opinion, to interact with the people they protected.
And, maybe, people would see Wade how Peter did--the goofy laughs, the bad jokes, the kindness. It was a little selfish, but Peter knew that this was Wade's dream. He wanted to be looked up to, he wanted people to see him as more than expendable, more than cancer, more than his mutation. And Peter wanted so desperately for him to know what that was like. He wanted him to see the good things the world had to offer people like him (people who tried to do good despite their circumstances), to try and drown out the bad stuff.
And now Deadpool was dancing. For him! Just because Peter had pointed out a dancer, and teased Deadpool for not having moves like him.
"This is for Spiderman!" Deadpool bellowed, before bursting into a ridiculous move that probably didn't even exist--like he was trying to shimmy his way into a handstand--and Peter covered his masked face with his hands as people around them applauded.
He was sure he was red as a firetruck.
He applauded too.
*
Later, when they were getting ice-cream, Deadpool asked, "How'd you like my moves, baby-boy?"
Peter smiled, ducked his head, and fought back a blush because Deadpool would definitely see it with his mask rolled up to his nose like it was. "It was okay," he said. Deadpool shoved at his shoulder playfully. Peter shoved back.
And maybe that kind of... solidified his crush a little more.
4.
"So," Deadpool started, holstering his katanas. "Is this a bad time for me to say that I find you really, really hot?"
"You're a bastard," Peter said in response.
He was a little tied up--literally. So maybe Deadpool could have picked a better time to start hardcore flirting with him (but, knowing him, maybe he couldn't have). Peter wasn't exactly opposed to flirting: God knew that Wade could use some positive attention every now and again, and it kind of made his entire body tingle and his heart swell and his mouth feel parched, but still, timing.
"Just lemme check out the goods," Deadpool said, circling Peter, humming appreciatively every now and again. "Damn, your ass looks good from this angle, babe!"
"I'm glad," Peter deadpanned. He had all the power to make this stop--Wade would listen to him if he put on his serious voice and mean face--but he wasn't exactly hating the attention. "You do know I'm upside down, right? This isn't an angle you'll see often, so you should enjoy it while you can."
Wade came around to face him again, their heads level with each other. "As much as I would love to hear about how you fell into your predicament, and maybe grab a few pictures for my Spiderman blog, I have a feeling you want to be let down." Peter nodded. Deadpool continued. "So... what would you do for me if I let you down?"
Peter rolled his eyes. He didn't even register his mouth moving before he heard the words, "I'd let you take more than pictures," slip smoothly to rest in the cold air. Wade gaped at him. Being tied up was doing something to him, he swore it--that wasn't intentional! "Ignore that," Peter groaned. "I'm going crazy."
"And you're driving me even more crazy," Deadpool said, pulling a knife from his thigh-holster. "Hold on, I'll get you down, Princess."
Peter blanked when a masked face brushed against his own, the semblance of a kiss, before he came crashing down, Wade laughing as he disappeared into the night. Peter shook himself of the ropes and gave chase.
Oh, Wade was going to get it.
5.
Wade was boasting a green suit the next time Peter saw him. It looked... really nice on him, actually. Peter didn't mind at all. Green wasn't his favourite colour, but it was definitely up there.
"Do I look good enough to eat?" Wade asked.
Peter bent backwards, his feet positioned on the side of the building so he could jump off. He said, quickly, "Sure!" which he barely managed to hear himself over the sound of wind in his ears as he pushed off, a quick web helping him from a hasty demise, and right onto Deadpool's shoulders (an acceptable touching zone; for bro hugs, shoulder pats, and landing pads). Deadpool tilted his head back, and gave Peter the best cheeky grin he had ever seen on someone with a mask that obscured all of their features.
"Oh, so you'd eat me?" He called out, preparing to climb down because Peter hated it when Wade hurt himself. "Is that a promise or a threat?"
"Can't it be both?"
Wade and Peter laughed together, and Wade admitted he'd dyed his suit on purpose--but he wouldn't tell Peter why.
"I think you're flashy enough in red," Peter said later. "You look dashing--and we match!"
Wade was wearing his red suit the next time Peter saw him.
+1
Wade sat down next to Peter, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.
"Do you," he started, before clearing his throat, pulling his mask up to rest on the bridge of his nose. Peter followed suit. "D'you wanna... watch a movie at my house sometime? Like, as more than friends. Like we're people who like-like each other. That is, of course, unless you don't like me--I tried looking up what spiders liked becase I was nervous and, trust me, I dated a mutant and her mutation did not like me at all. Good instincts! But I want you to like me--all of you--so I maybe went a little overboard and I'm thinking you might actually hate me now so--"
Peter pulled him, hand grabbing firmly onto the fabric of Wade's suit, before planting a kiss on his mouth. "Sure."
Wade blinked at him, slowly, like he was a kitten high on catnip. "Oh... okay."
"All of me likes you, Wade," Peter said. "It'd be impossible not to."
Wade smiled, and Peter couldn't even be mad that he had given up on his promise to himself in a matter of months.
This was... good.