Disillusioned

The rudest awakening Peter ever experienced came at the hands of Tony Stark exactly seven minutes before his alarm clock would have awoken him. Glaring at the time on his phone the young man answered his phone with more venom than usually found outside his namesake. 

“If someone isn’t dying then they bloody hell will be,” he growled the threat through the early morning fog in his thoughts. 

“Settle down kid,” the Avenger chuckled with warm humour. “You’re too young to be this angry in the morning. Up all night partying?” 

“Oh fuck off,” Peter growled pulling himself to sit in bed before rubbing at his face violently. “Even when I was in College I didn’t do that shit. What do you want now that I’m up?” 

“How old are-? Never mind look we have an incident and we need Spider-Man,” the voice on the line calmly started outlining the rendezvous point. 

Peter kicked his way across his bedroom. He hated waking up before his first alarm. Something about being cheated those few moments of sleep grated against his every nerve putting him in the foulest mood.   

He stumbled his way into his ensuite. 

“Yeah yeah I’ll be there; and when do I need to be where exactly,” Peter glared at the mirror switching his phone to handsfree to shave. He knew it made him look younger however the irritation of stubble under the mask was more vexing than being underestimated. “And what are we doing?”

The was a short sigh. The hero knew he was being rude but he couldn’t help being annoyed at being woken up so early. 

The voice on the line changed to a much smoother more diplomatic voice. 

“Good morning Spider-Man this is Steve Rogers,” the new voice greeted warmly causing a larger spike of irritation than before.  It would take a stronger man than Peter Parker to be rude to the All American hero but internally he was already rolling his eyes; no one is that patriotic or good without something to hide. “The guy the team went after last time for Smuggling extraterrestrial material has shown up again on camera with known arms dealers. It’s all hands on deck to stop this guy before whatever they have planned becomes a real problem. Can we count on you?” 

“Of course Captain Rogers,” Peter glances down at his phone briefly. “Just message me when and where and Spider-Man will be there.” 

He waited a moment to see if the other Avenger would say anymore before disconnecting the call. 

—-

Spider-Man found himself waiting on the rooftop the message directed him to as the cloaked Quinjet approached. He hadn’t thought to tell them but he always knew where the jet was flying as even in its stealth mode it gave off electrical signals that brushed against his spidey sense. 

As the Avengers disembarked Steve came striding over to the other spandex wearing hero clapping him jovially on the shoulder.

“Thank you for coming at such short notice,” he grinned then quickly changed his stance as he shifted his hand to pushing Spider-Man towards tony and Bruce who were heads together over a tablet. “Let’s show you what we’ve got and go over the plan one last time.” 

“One last time?” Spider-Man sauntered forward to cheekily glance over Bruce’s shoulder at the small screen he held. “You mean share it for the first time.”

The scientists in front of him chuckled quietly making Spider-Man fist pump in triumph.

“Ok kid so hears the plan...” Tony spun the tablet face up to show a miniature hologram of a block of apartments; he hesitated a second before launching into a detailed and exact plan of attack illustrating everyone’s positions and jobs with animated figures. 

“So its a perfect and foolproof plan. Let’s do it!”

...

It was a perfect and foolproof plan. Unfortunately it wasn’t idiot proof so when the red masked man arrived and started shooting the targets trying to get information out of them Spider-Man had to restrain the mercenary.

Luckily he’d only killed one of their prisoners as the man had shot the attacking man through the hand while trying to escape. Spider-Man pulled a thin flat box from his belt revealing soft thin fabric that shimmered in the morning light.

“Here let me see that I can stop the bleeding,” Spider-Man grabbed the mercenaries’ injured hand that he’d left unrestrained before reaching over and cutting loose the other one.

“Woah kid don’t let him loose,” Iron-man strode over in his gleaming suit. “We don’t know what he’s capable of; leave it to SHIELD to deal with him.” 

Well Tony,” Spider-Man began in his most patient, calm and not condescending voice while holding the two hands up for inspection. One gloved hand had a ragged tear through he pliant leather while the other was untouched. The skin visible beneath the tattered glove appeared covered with old scars but otherwise unharmed. “It appears he has a regenerative healing factor that might make it impossible for us to subdue or incapacitate him using our normal methods; don’t you think its wise to investigate this and question him while he’s a passive prisoner?”

“Aw baby boy I am anything but passive,” The red mask winked at Spider-Man who took a half step back. 

“Why did you attack the men at the warehouse last week? And why did you come here while we were in the middle of an operation?” 

The masked man laughed the full bodied laugh of the slightly less than sane. Spider-Man stayed stock still calmly watching the display as the laughter slowly petered out.

“Oh please sweet cheeks, tell me you don’t think your team is the hot chick of this story,” his gaze raised to the ceiling while his body still convulsed with small chuckles. “I’m the hot chick here and I’m going to look damn good in my prom dress! It’s pink!”

“He’s insane.” Tony muttered under his breathe clearly disgusted.

“I don’t think so,” Peter muttered rubbing his chin thoughtfully. he turned his full attention back to the masked man. “What’s your name?”

“Wade Wilson AKA Deadpool,” Was the quick and easy reply. The head dropped back down to stare disconcertingly at Spider-Man. “But you can call me anytime.”

“Ok Mr. Wilson,” Spider-Man moved further into the masked mans personal space. “Why are you after these people, why shouldn’t we haul you in and why do you act so much crazier than you are?”

Deapool’s head cocked in a motion that managed to display wariness without the help of any facial cues. It was starting to unnerve Peter how easily the masked man could be read.

“You shouldn’t haul me in because somewhere in your super secret databases I still have super secret spy clearance that’ll have me released within minutes of our arrival and that’ll just waste all our time as for these fucknuts; they know where the man who painted me like a French girl is hiding.”

Spider-Man stood toe to toe with the masked man and whispered the only question that really mattered to him:

“Are you a danger to the people of this city who are innocent of any  major crimes?”

“No.”

Spider-Man stared at Deadpool for a moment longer before stepping back and allowing Stark to take over. He wandered over to Black widow who was furiously tapping at a tablet while releasing a string of numbers simultaneously into her coms to assumably unlock some information on their latest captive.

Using a single finger to angle the screen down for a second Spider-Man caught the words ‘extremely dangerous, classified and project steakhouse’ before shrugging it off. If he had nothing to do with Deadpool he didn't need to know anything else about Deadpool but he’d still be wary of the man. Observe him. 

After raising a hand at Bruce who was perched on a box beside Nat Spider-Man rejoined the inquisition around the captive mercenary. 

“Look you’re lucky we let the kid question you first; if Nat did it you’d be singing like a birdie by now so-“ Tony was monologging until he was cut off by Deadpool raising a hand like a kid in class. “Uh yes?”

“By kid do you mean Spider-Man the masked guy standing right there?” Deadpool pointed at Spider-Man and cocked his head to the side again. “That one?”

Without Spider-Man noticing everyone, excluding Bruce, had moved in closer beside him; offering support or protection he wasn’t sure.

“Uh yes?” Steve Rogers sounded confused and suspicious as he answered the man.

“The guy who by all the info of a quick google search has been working with you for the past five years?” He looked around at the group surrounding him waiting for their hesitant nods before he continued the so far innocent line of questioning. “And if you track his appearances back far enough you can spot his appearances seven years before he officially signed onto the Avengers. 

“So not only has he been technically doing the hero gig longer than most of you, he also had to be at least in high school when he actually started so now he’s what twenty-five to twenty-seven?” 

The hero’s surrounding Spider-Man all suddenly shuffled awkwardly around to stare at the relaxed posture of the fully masked and completely mysterious teammate they hadn’t thought to question too far.

“Well technically twenty seven is in the next six months but yeah that’s about right,” he shrugged lying easily: his twenty-seventh birthday had been three months ago. “Well no one asked and it keeps my mild mannered alter ego out of the spotlight so...” 

He tilted his head in a helpless gesture. 

His teammates exploded into apologies and questions Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to answer.

Does that mean he has a day job? What does he do? Did he finish high school while fighting crime at night? Does he have a family? Kids? A dog? 

He chuckled to himself before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Guys I like keeping my secret identity secret ok?” He also pointed to the wall covered in tattered webs. “And he was totally distracting us to escape.” 

They all collectively groaned and headed back for the Quinjet where they bombarded Peter with questions; he evaded them all except; he lived in the city, he has no defenceless kids or potential hostages and no Hawkeye I don’t have a dog why do you keep asking?

Once SHIELD arrived to take away their remaining captives the group left in the Quinjet hovering briefly over a tall building, probably some bank, while Peter jauntily saluted his team and threw himself from the jet to swing himself home without being followed. 

Arriving home he changed into soft pj bottoms and took a quick snap of his feet in bunny slippers that were a gift from Gwen and sent a message to the two most important people in his life: it took five years but the genius’ finally figured out I’m not 15.

...