Chapter 2
7:02 PM. Roof of some expensive high rise. Brooklyn.
The Spider-man sat on the thick concrete railing with his feet dangling carelessly over the edge, watching the sun set across New York. His mask was half up, and he was enjoying a food truck taco with some questionably grey-looking chicken inside. The roof was a good vantage point over the area, and even though he'd admit to being off guard if anything were to go down, it was a good place to spot any fights or crime-stopping-worthy behavior going down. There was a door on the roof, but he'd checked it and it was locked. Nobody would be up here. He had to admit that going out on patrol every night had been taking a toll on him as of late, and that he'd been sleeping pretty terribly the last few weeks. Usually Peter's schedule was crammed between studying and classes and running errands for Tony Stark and trying to fix whatever it was that was currently broken in his shithole apartment, and currently that was the kitchen sink, the bathroom door, and the washing machine. On top of all he did in the day, spider-man spent almost all night out looking for fights to split up (There was consistently never a shortage in this god forsaken city) and nights getting home before the crack of dawn were few and far between. Needless to say, Peter spent a lot of money on coffee. Having finished the grey-chicken taco and nonchalantly tossing the wrapper behind his head (He made mental note to pick it up before he left, spider-man doesn't litter) he felt himself begin to slouch and start to doze off. He sat back up with a start, mentally cursing his shitty sleep schedule. Relaxing a little, he continued his survey of the streets below him. Suddenly, a loud scream pierced the background noise of the city. Peter's eyes zeroed in on a back alley a couple blocks away in which a rather filthy looking group of men were cornering a woman into the brick behind her, one pointing a gun at her sternum. Spiderman stood up on the ledge, and just as he was about to shoot a web to the next building on his way to save her, a voice started behind him.
"Oh my god. Oh my god. It's spiderman. I can't believe it. Oh my god." The voice was muttering excitedly behind him. He turned around to a far too familiar sight. Deadpool. "To what do I owe the pleasure, webs?" Peter sighed a heavy sigh and ignored him, quickly retorting. "Go away, man. I have people to save." Deadpool skipped over to him, much too far into his personal space for his liking. "Ooooooooohhhh" Deadpool doted. At this point Peter didn't even know when that guy was being sarcastic or not. "Can I come? Preeeeetty pleeaaase?" How the hell did he even make that faux-puppy eyes face through that mask? "I know you're not so big on the 'un-aliving' thing, I could come along and do some good ol' slice and dice on your behalf!" Spider-man rolled his eyes under his mask. This? Again? "Get lost." He hissed, and turned around, webbing his way to the next building. The Spider-man swung from rooftop to rooftop, quickly landing at the scene he'd intended to shut down before the obnoxious mercenary had wasted a minute of his time. "You know, you should really buy her dinner first." He swiftly webbed the gun in one of the men's hand and slung it to him. Like little drones, the men quickly started cornering in on him, leaving the woman room to run. But noooo she had to stay there and cry. "That was too harsh. She's probably really scared." He thought to himself. As the men started closing in on him he prepared to fight, but all of a sudden there was a rumbling in a nearby trashcan. Two or three of the gang looked over their shoulders at it, but continued closing in. The lid sprung off the can, and lo and behold, an obnoxiously familiar voice rang from it. "Yoo hooo~" Deadpool's head stuck out of the trash can, covered in garbage. Spider-man slung up over and to the other side of the alleyway, hissing at the merc to kindly uh, get the fuck out. The gang once again starting trying to corner them. "Aww, spidey, I thought you liked when we did couples' crime fighting." Deadpool cooed. "We are NOT a couple." Spider-man hissed back. One of the gang men butted in. "Is this domestic shit or something?" He turned to the other guys and snorted. "We're gonna fuck us up a couple superhero faggots?" Peter's face went red under the mask. Spider-man does not un-alive people, but he definitely felt like doing so at this moment. "Shut your fuck." Deadpool answered, climbing out of his garbage pile. He unsheathed the katanas on his back and ran full force at the group, quickly going to town doing what Peter could only describe as uh, 'slice and dice". His heart sank to his stomach and his mind clambered for something he could do to stop it, but it was over so fast he was suddenly standing in front of a gory scene of dead criminals.
"DUDE!" He stumbled over to Deadpool, slightly still in shock at what he had just witnessed. "What the fuck was that?! I told you I don't do that stuff!" He raged. The merc did seem to have a slightly guilty look on his masked face. "You don't do that stuff. I do. The faggots thing was over the line. And it'd been like, an entire week since I'd done that. So it's basically fine." He made a halfhearted attempt to shake some of the stringy bits of guts off his blades before sheathing them on his back again. Peter was fuming. How was he supposed to handle this guy following him doing stuff like this all the time? Not to mention the merc's persistence in continuing to flirt with him at every given chance. Spider-man stood there for a moment, angry and racking his brain for reasons to be pissed at Deadpool. He knew he had about a million, but his mind was so clouded in shock and rage he was coming up blank. After a moment, Deadpool broke the angry silence. "Look man, I get it. I'm sorry. Un-aliving isn't your thing, and this was your case. I should've let you handle it. I'm sure you could've handled it." Peter wasn't even sure he was serious. He'd never sounded that sincere. Peter sighed heavily (If he had a dollar for every heavy sigh deadpool had caused, he might actually have enough for rent) and replied bitterly. "Thanks, I guess. Doesn't change the fact you just murdered six people. Definitely doesn't change the fact I'll never go on a date with you. At least the lady got away." He looked back to see if the woman was still in sight, having half-forgotten the gruesome scene behind him. Suddenly confronted with queasiness at the sight, he stumbled over to the brick wall and put his hand against it to steady himself. Even having been a quote-on-quote "superhero" for over six years now, Peter still didn't do so well with blood and guts. Not well at all, actually. He waited a second for some inconsiderate comment from behind him about how he should grow up or how good his ass looked from that angle. Both he would've straightened up and punched Deadpool in the throat for, but neither of which came. Instead, he walked over to him with a surprising lack of nasty comment. "You ok, webs? Need a tums or something?" Peter straightened up to face the merc. "Fine." He paused. ".. Thanks."
"Anytime, babe."
"Don't call me that."
"Anytime, dude bro."
"Don't call me that either."
Spider-man shook off a little bit, trying to loosen up to get back to patrol. He'd never admit it, he didn't really even admit it to himself, but he had grown a bit to like Deadpool. NOT in a romantic way, DEFINITELY not in a sexual way, but in a kind of weird-sad-I-don't-know-why-I-can't-hate-you way. "I gotta get back to patrol." He added shortly, walking quickly over to the opposite wall of the alley in attempts to find somewhere above to swing off to. Not technically a lie to get out of being around his red-clad acquaintance, he did have to get back, but getting away from Deadpool was definitely a plus of leaving. "Wanna grab tacos?" Deadpool cocked his head in a quizzical way. Did he even hear what Peter said? Probably not. He did quickly realize he was still pretty hungry, having only eaten once today. Was spending more time around him worth it for the possibility of not having to buy his own food? Probably not, but he was hungry nonetheless, and poor as shit, so after a moment of reflection and options-weighing, he replied.
"Only if you're buying."
"Of course I'm buying. I'm a top."
"Nevermind."
After approximately seven and a half minutes of Deadpool pleading and saying he was joking (For once, Peter was actually sure he wasn't joking), Spider-man reluctantly agreed. After an amount of doting only he could be accustomed to from a 'friend' and a very satisfying amount of mexican food, the two sat on the same highrise rooftop he had started the night on. He insisted they "hang out" there ("Hang out" being Deadpool's words, not his) so he could actually continue his survey of the city. They sat mostly either in silence, sometimes the merc would attempt to start a conversation and eventually end up talking to himself for a surprising amount of time. After a very prolonged period of silence, a couple instances of Peter dozing off for a bit, and an uneventful, crime-free night, the sun was finally beginning to rise over Brooklyn. Just a sliver of light was in the sky, which meant it was time for Spider-man to return home to Manhattan for his roughly two hours of sleep before morning classes. He sighed lightly, and informed his red-clad acquaintance it was time for him to be leaving. "Thanks for the food. I actually mean it." The merc smiled through his mask. "Don't mention it, webs." He paused for a minute. Just as Peter was about to swing off the roof and start on his way home, he spoke matter-of-factly. "You went on a date with me." Peter shook his head and flipped him the bird, but said nothing. He shot a web toward the next rooftop, and Deadpool watched him duck in and out of sight until he was gone. As he swung across the rooftops, he felt conflicted. Why couldn't he just hate him? Shouldn't it be easy? He crept into the window of his apartment and quickly changed into his pajamas. He'd only have about two or three hours sleep, but he'd grown generally accustomed to it. Actually felt good to have gotten an extra hour or so in on the rooftop throughout the night. As he laid down in attempts to get some shut-eye, he stared at the ceiling for a short moment and laughed a little to himself. Deadpool had started to remind him of that guy he met at the laundromat yesterday. Then he remembered, "Shit, I need to go back there this week." as the washing machine had definitely passed the point of no repair. What was that guy's name again? He told himself he really didn't want another weird interaction and that he hoped they wouldn't cross paths again, but a secret part of him was looking forward to it.