Aw, Sugar, You Make My Teeth Rot

Peter looks around. He can't hear the Avengers yet, and from what he had observed the robot - Ultron - was someone they were chasing or fighting. He could only assume they'd be back soon. He glances down at the still regenerating man beneath him. The sounds are strange, vaguely squishing, vaguely sizzling. He really would rather not prefer leaving the man there, but there really is no way to transport the half mutilated corpse.

"Can you talk?" Peter asks, poking at the cheek of the miraculously still intact mask. "Hello? Can you?"

"The fuck do you want?" The man almost growls back. Peter frowns.

"Don't talk to me like that! I've done almost nothing wrong in this situation!" Peter retorts, throwing his hands up in a weird, semi frazzled gesture. He remains balanced on the crooked edge of the floor of the van. Although now it's stick almost vertically from the ground.

"You transported me! In an oxygen-depravation tank! Torture!" The man retorts in a high voice not unreminiscent of a petulant child.

"I was told you were an object! I didn't know you were alive!" Peter argues back. "And you never answered my question!"

"What question?"

"Can you talk?"

"Obviously!"

"Well you never know!" Peter responds, crossing his arms and glaring at him. Not that Deadpool can see the glare, but his body conveys enough. Deadpool growl-sighs.

"I can speak," he grits out. Peter blinks, body loosing it's anger and relaxing. He didn't think Deadpool would answer him. Most people just sigh in aggravation and demand he get on with whatever he was going to say. The change, the abnormalty of it makes his entire body spike with fear.

"That's not it!" Peter sort of half screams. "You answered different- that's not-" Peter makes a half aggravated, half fearful sound. He places his hands on other side of his head. In a few seconds, his reason for fear slips his mind and he perks up. "Oooooh! Can you talk?" Peter pokes the man's miraculously still masked cheek.

"What? Yeah, I can, I just t-"

"Good, good!" Peter cuts in. A few spiders crawling to his shoulders or beginning to impatiently form webs and hang off any part of his body they can. "Because I have a proposition for you! As opposed to the original version-" Peter cuts himself off. "Anyway, I proposition that if you agree to owing me at least twenty favors, then I, in turn, will tell you all I know of the people who kidnapped you!"

"Why the fuck would I agree to that?" Deadpool asks incredulously. "That's like, totally unfair!"

Peter grins. "Weeeell, because I happen to know everything about your current predicament! And you, well, quite frankly, know nothing of it!" Peter crawls down, crouching on the semi burnt blood of the man. He flicks Deadpool's forehead, which illicites an almost animilstic growl.

"And, Deadpool," Peter continues on, humming happily. "I know how to get rid of any lead you have! Isn't that wonderful? Anywho, on another note!" Peter uses his idea and middle fingers to run around Deadpool's chest, which is only half formed. He's nothing but a head and chest at the moment. "I myself, am a pretty little scientist and you-" Peter giggles "-Are the perfect specimen! Did you know that? Absolutely perfect! And if you don't make this deal willingly-" Peter's grin does a nasty little thing and his fingers go from walking to digging the nails painfully into Wade's chest. "-Well I know exactly how to take you! So the way I see it, if you make this deal, I'll only have twenty favors- and you'll never see nor hear from me again but-" Peter's nails dig deeper. "-If you don't make the deal... You're leads all fgo cold and I steal you away and do whatever I wish for as long as I deem fit!"

Peter hops up, giggling. He insects his nails, mumbling, "I should paint these red. It'd go so nice-" Peter frowns at Deadpool, who is oozing that smell of fear. "Why are you afraid? Did I do skemthing? Oh- I gave you a deal! A proposition! That's a fun word, isn't it? Prop-oh-zish-un!"

Deadpool stays silent, Peter fidgets, looking around wildly. He chitters distracted to his spiders. They keep him constantly informed so he doesnt forget, and it becomes ingrained in his memory. Peter realizes Deadpool's shoulders are forming.

"So? Whats your answer?" Peter questions, leaning down. He taps the nose on the mask before lightly tapping his knuckles to his forehead, as if to dislodge something misplaced in his brain.

"I accept," Deadpool says somewhat weekly. Strange. Then again, Deadpool probably isn't in the right frame of mind to be making such decisions, what with the constant pain of healing and all. Peter's vaguely sure he's going against his own very vague set of morals and is thoroughly manipulating the older and bigger man by forcing him to make setup decisions in this frame of mind but-

"This is going to be fun!" Peter shouts happily, clapping his hands before he looks around. "Now, how will I get you home?"

~

Peter looks at the man following him. He'd given him his cloak to cover up, and it was currently wrapped around his body in an awkward toga. Peter liked the black fabric, darker then venom with bright white spider Web designs and one huge spider on the back of the hood. It was a thin fit, even for him, and how it managed to cover any part of the merc's body was beyond him.

Peter frowns. Where was he again?

"Where am I?" He echoes quietly, looking around. His mind races to make him forget and he rocks back on his heels around the erase and recover memories faster than he can make out. He groans, clutching his head.

"To much, to much," he whispers, shaking his head. "Remember. Remember. Do not forget, do not forget." Peter turns to the oddly silent Deadpool. He's not entirely silent, he keeps mumbling to himself. It's grating, not being able to properly discern what he's saying. Peter can't stretch his senses at the moment. Far to busy trying desperately to grapple with his mind and memory, which is begining to rebel against him.

"Stop!" He finally screams, much to his and Deadpool's surprise. "Stop it, stop it, stop it! I need to remember! Stop fucking with me!" Peter snaps his fingers, and hisses. Spiders crawling on his shoulders and chest and head to hiss as close to his ear as possibly. He snaps his head to Deadpool, who jumps. He's not all there yet. His brain is still comnecting.

"I'm sorry," he says abruptly. "I mean, I'm not entirely sorry. I guess I'm sorry that I'm not sorry because I want to be sorry but I also feel like it's rude not to apolgize?" Peter cocks his head curiously to the side, words ending in a questioning lilt towards the end. "Anyway, my safe house is here." Peter gestures to the building beside them. He turns, opening the door and walking in. He flicks on the light, which is purposefully dim.

Deaspool trails behind him, and apparently decides it's okay to talk at a normal volume. He starts rambling. He doesn't stop talking, and Peter doesn't mind. Peter goes about shooing the spiders off him and finding some food. This home has large cicadas, perfectly preserved in glittering jars. There's other insects as well, but Peter takes the cicadas and eats, glancing up at the second story. It's still there. Peter had only been in this house for a few minutes before he left. He hadn't needed to break it down.

Peter hesitates to stretch his mental web, remembering the flash of other voices before the explosion. He'd need to test on that. For now, however, he and his forced companion require sleep. Sustanance as well.

"Deadpool?" He calls questioningly, tapping his fingers on the counter in a rythm he doesn't know. "I think I have cereal here, if you're hungry? It's probably stale, though. We can buy some more tommorrow, if you like?"

Peter bites his lip. He doesn't actually know how to act, now. The proposition, born of mania is an uncertainty in his mind. He knows soon, his temperary bout of mostly sane will leave, and it makes him uncomfortable to have brought in a guest like that. He swallows, chewing a little more. This was a mistake.

"I'll take it!" Comes a cheery voice. To cheery, it's forced. Peter stiffens. Who was that? Peter whips around to face the source of the voice. Deadpool. Oh! Deadpool!

"Deadpool!" Peter cheers, "So nice of you to come! I assume I said something to get you to come? Please remind me!"

"Um," Deadpool responds, apparently confused. "You sia dyou had stale cereal?"

"Oh! Right!" Peter nods, clapping his hands and turning to a cupboard. He pulls out a bunch of boxes. "Here! I don't have much else I'm afraid! I'll make sure to make a normal food run tomorrow! Oooh I could get some crickets and fried grasshoppers while I'm at it! You could come to, if you like! It could be a date!" Peter rocks on his feet, giggling. "A date? I havent been on one do those since-"

Peter's body goes rigid. His mind flashing out names. Names, names.

Blood, blood, there's so much blood! What does he do? What does he do? He needs to stop the bleeding! No, no, don't let him die! Please, please, he's all he has!

The necks not right. Wake up, wake up! Breathe, breathe! Please, please! He knows he ended it wrong but please! Please!

Cruel smile, playing like Christmas lights. "Oh Peter, you loved her, didn't you?"

"Peter! Peter, please! Please! I came here to save you!" Gargling, no. No, no, please! Not her to, not her-

"C'mon Spider-Man, let's go show this city what we're made of," a pur, like a cat. Peter smiles. It's love, right?

Peter shakes, gnawing at his lip and snapping his fingers over and over again. Snap, snap, snap, snap. His eyes blur for and second.

The shaking stops. What was he doing again?

"I'm sorry," Peter giggles out, "What was I saying again?"

"You said you were going to go out and get food?" Deadpool questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, right, you can come with!" Peter says cheerily, before pulling a cicada out and popping it in his mouth. He sits on the counter, swinging his legs happily.

After a few minutes, Deadpool finishes his cereal. He doesn't seem to know what to do with the bowl, so Peter webs it to him and puts it in the sink, screwing the lid of jar of cicadas back on and skipping around the island to pull Deadpool towards his lab.

"C'mon, c'mon, we gotta talk about the whole job and proposition thing!" Peter giggles, and Deadpool makes a choked sound, and the suddenly thick smell of fear makes Peter force back a gag. "Oh don't worry," Peter giggles, "No experiments yet! I have thirty favors and I am going to make them count!"

"Thirty?" Deadpool squeaks, "You said twenty!"

"I said at least twenty! The actual number isn't set yet! I was thinking thirty, but thirty-six sounds better on the toungue!" Peter responds. Peter notes immediately that Deadpool tenses. His mind seems to be catching up, then. That's good. He was looking forward to meeting the mercenary when he was in a normal frame of mind, and not this somewhat fearful one. There's a low hum at the base of his skull, informing him that at danger may be possible.

Peter shoves Deadpool into a chair, which has straps on the arms and legs. Deadpool tenses immediately, but Peter makes no move to strap them. Instead focusing on clearing out the old vials and mess from years ago. He'd only been here once before, in this safe house, for about thirty minutes. Peter pulls himself up to his spider legs.

"Now, the client who hired me was running frm Weapon X," Peter states, "No doubt they found out he managed to grab you and wanted you for their own greedy little selves. To bad though, you get to be mine for the next forty-eight favors!"

Deadpool makes to voice his disagreement about the number, but Peter continues on. "Now, as far as I know, the client is boring and he's waiting at his own safe house for me to miraculously deliver you. As it stands, he has no reason to believe I'm not still doing the job, despite the weird robotic set back with Ultron." Peter's mania leaves just a little bit as he watches Deadpool really become Deadpool. 

"However," Peter continues, "The problem would be getting you to the safe house since I'm pretty sure we don't know what they used to capture you. Plus, I plan on using at least one or two of my thirty-three favors before we start. Ofcourse, Im pretty sure if I pretend to deliver you, you could probably wait and then carry out the rest but, the client dared to trick me so I'm afraid I must accompany you so as to send a message to any others who might feel inclined to try such a thing. I'm sure you understand. Youre perfectly free to kill him if you'd like, of course. I'd just like to do some things to the corpse. Perhaps join in on any torture you might decide to use."

Peter inspects his nails. He really should paint them red. Focus! "Of course, that plan is faulty because- oooh, You know I could paint the purple- Sorry, what were we talking about again?"

Deadpool seems almost patient, but he's tense and coiled. "Plan was shit. Need another one. I'm thinking we do some breaking in and espionage. All spies and shit 'cause I am fucking ninja-"

"Sounds good!" Peter says distractedly. "I think I know what my first of the sixty-nine-" Peter and Deadpool both giggle. "Okay, fine, thirty-six favors is!"

Deadpool visibly tenses. "Twenty."

"Deadpool, dearest, you still have no idea who the client is and I am still perfectly capable of incapacitating you. My number is Thirty-Six." Peter states, mental fix shifting from semi-sane, mercenary mode to mad-scientist. "Because of that, I'm changing the first favor!" He claps his hands, manic glee filling him. "Oooh, but for now, I'm going to run some tests on you!"

"That's the first favor?" Deadpool asks wearily.

"No, silly, that's just something you're going to comply to! I'm not wasting my favor on that! That's for something else. No, my tests will be mostly of your own free will. Of course, that being said, I'll gladly do it without your consent as well!" Peter giggles, crawling over to a cabinet. "But with your consent, you'll be able to tell me what makes you uncomfortable! And I'll be able be to not do those things because, contrary to popular belief, I can be a somewhat decent person!"

Peter pulls out various substances, scattering them on a desk and pulling various machinery out. He pulls out a needle, inspecting it cuiously.

"I'll have to sterilize this," Peter states, and he goes to do so. "Tell me about yourself!"

"What the fuck do you think this is?" Deadpool asks, and Peter turns. Deadpool looks ready to bolt.

"A science experiment!" Peter responds, childish glee making him smile and clap his hands. "Which you consent to. I mean, I guess of you don't that's fine to! The straps are there for a reason!" Peter waves at him dismissively. Deadpool seems to yell at something Peter can't hear, and Peter realizes that he probably doesn't need needles yet and is unnecessarily freaking Deadpool out. He panics.

"I'm not-" Peter shouts, panic in his voice. "I'm not going to use needles! I I wouldnt! Not yet- I just-" his voice breaks. "I won't do things that make you uncomfortable as long as you tell me what does. At least, not right now. I can't promise anything when I'm.. less here but I really won't-"

Peter bites his lip, before his eyes light up, panic forgotten aso he sets a chair across from Deadpool's. Then he pushes some desks on either side of the chairs and various pieces of machinery. He stops when he smells Deadpool's panic, and hears the usual ramble that never leaves his lips quicken with worry.

"None of this will hurt you," he assures, "I mean, unless you really hate buzzing noises. I do, but there's nothing I can do about it! This is just meant to pick up things!" Peter takes his seat in front of Deadpool. He looks at his nails, but looks away before they can distract him.

"Alrighty!" Peter states, crossing his legs and clapping his hands. "Let's begin!"

Deadpool tenses, and Peter snaps his mental Web out. Immediately, it snaps back at him, and the force of it makes him going flying backwards a few inches. His hands grabbing the first thing at his side - the edge of a desk - and fighting to stay upright. Enter world spinning and he clamps down on his lip, blood and venom going from their usual dribble to huge splirts. He coughs.

[[What the hell was that?]]

[I thought we were going to get hurt!]

[[He's glaring at us.]]

[Here comes the pain.]

[[We should run. Kill him and run.]]

[But what if we can't and he decides not to play nice?]

"Who are you?" Peter asks curiously, looking around the air. "This happened last time! And you really won't be able to escape. You truly shouldn't bother, it's all very much easier if you just cooperate."

There's a silence. Deadpool even shuts his mouth for its usual unending ramble as he processes Peter's words. Because it sounded like Peter could hear the boxes and that shouldn't be possible. At all.

[What the fuck?]

[[Holy shit]]

"What the fucking holy shit?"

"Oooh nice combo," Peter comments dryly, going to check the machines. He frowns. "Hm, they didn't catch anything. Weird. Guess I'll just wait for the next time you die to try this again." Peter pushes the desks with the machines away.

"Let me show you to your room!" Peter shoes cheerily, pulling Wade away before he can process. He's tops half way from pulling him up the stairs.

"Listen, Deadpool," Peter states, "I dont have a lot of time before I slip so I'm going to be very honest with you, okay?"

"Sure, Spindley, what's up?" Deadpool asks, even though the strange seriousness Peter is emenating is making him want to run. Peter' entire demeanor seems to have shifted.

"I am not always this nice," he says, and he looks at Deadpool, but seems to see through him. "One day, I'll snap and you won't get the courtesy of being ssked whether something makes you uncomfortable and I promise you, Deadpool, that on those days it will hurt. And I promise, that if you leave before my favors are up, there will be hell and I promise you, I sincerely promise, that there is nothing that will hide you."

Peter smiles, but it's icy. "I'm nice because I don't want to lose my mind any more than it is but if you're still here when a day comes and I wake and it's gone, you better hope it comes back quick."

Peter opens and door, and forgets entirely what he's said. "Anyways, here's your room!"