Aftermath - CuteAsAMuntin - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Before the cancer, before Department K and Weapon X, before Hospice and Doctor Killebrew, when he was just Wade Winston Wilson, ex-Special Forces gun-for-hire, Deadpool was pretty sure that he had loved being an Omega. Wade had loved sharing his heats with whatever hot and willing (and when he was still pretty, they were always willing) Alpha — or even the occasional particularly adventurous Beta — he had his eye on. He’d later love being mated and then fully Bonded to Vanessa Carlysle, the sharpest, most gorgeous Alpha he’d ever cared to lay eyes on. Vanessa, who had treated him like he was strong and valuable and worthy even when he wasn’t behind a sniper scope or in the peak of a heat.

That was before his flesh was little more than layer on aching layer of scar tissue. Before his brains had been scrambled and he’d been graced with the occasional appearance of the boxes. Before Weapon X had gotten ahold of Vanessa and broken their Bond. Before all the f*ck-knows-what they’d done to kick her mutation to a whole new level. Before they’d brute-forced her into a fighting machine and scrambled her memories too. Before all his former Alpha had become was another useful tool — one that could control or take out Deadpool.

Before he lost the few truly sweet, good, and uncomplicated things in his life. Before the idea of trying to find another person who wouldn’t be sick at the sight of him the moment he took off his mask, no matter how f*ckable he smelled at peak heat, sent him spiraling into an anxiety attack. Before even the idea of wanting to find someone who could help him through a heat without vomiting or making him keep the whole suit on made him panic even worse than needles or the smell of iodine and rubbing alcohol. Before the scents of most Alphas and other Omegas near a heat made him near sick himself when they got too strong or too close. Before he comforted and punished himself by clinging to the faint sense-memory of Vanessa’s scent covering him like it was a security blanket in fear he might forget that too. Before refusing to let his guard down no matter who he was f*cking. Before lonely, frantic heats were reminders of what he had lost and was fairly certain he wanted nothing to do with again, Wade had loved being an Omega.

Afterward, he was glad that with his size and his reputation and his scent blockers in the Deadpool suit, most people assumed that the occasionally-SHIELD-contracted mercenary was — along with being unpredictable, violent, obnoxious, and a complete whack-job — a total Alpha knot-head, or at the very least an overconfident, oversized Beta male. Not that Deadpool hid his dynamic, per se, but the obfuscation was certainly useful, both on his rare occasions of recreational social contact and when he could use the moment of surprise as another tool on a job.

Say, for instance, Wade was infiltrating an Oscorp lab rumored to have some strangely unaccounted for funding and black box projects. Say this lab employed a few researchers whose names were never quite associated with Weapon X but had cropped up a little too often as co-authors on Doctor Killebrew’s old research papers to be entirely coincidental. And say, for instance, he was not only tasked with a little recon and retrieval mission by a private employer, but he was guaranteed to retain his fee if he were to act with prejudice if in the course of the job he came across a subject of his personal revenge mission. Just say, for example, if he was contemplating a semi-legitimate secondary contract but hadn’t necessarily committed to anything just yet. Perhaps he was considering an extra paycheck and a little shred of legitimacy if he just so happened to find evidence of research into the manipulation of genetic markers for dynamic presentation, with a little slash and burn bonus if he caught even a whiff of human experimentation, as long as he collected all the evidence and performed rescues or mercy killings as appropriate. He’d heard about that little Green Goblin SNAFU that had happened in New York while he’d been away, and while Oscorp had managed to officially remain unaffiliated and untainted by the Osborn family’s downward spiral, word on the street was that SHIELD wasn’t completely stupid, even without their Cyclops of a director.

『You think throwing Preston or Hill a little bone will be enough to convince them you should be able to take on legit contracts? How are you still so dumb?』

Wade shook his head a little to clear it. Sure, he might have been cutting it a little close to his next heat, but he’d learned to deal with the discomfort and seldom had panic attacks around them anymore. At worst, he’d just be light-headed, uncomfortably horny, and maybe a bit distractingly attractive-smelling on his way home from this mission. At best, he had the advantage of being able to calm any Omega and sway any Alphas that might be trapped in the deeper levels of the lab. He might have even just a little more leeway in distracting and manipulating the Alpha security (and he was almost positive they would be mostly Alphas and probably all men because some stereotypes just still wouldn’t shake), which would be worth it. And speak of the devil…

「It’s showtime.」

Deadpool slipped from the shadows.

Before he’d murdered his Omega, Spider-Man had loved being an Alpha.

Before he had snapped Gwen Stacy’s neck, before his failure against Doctor Octavius left her father crushed by a building, and before he lost to the Green Goblin and killed his best friend’s father. When he was just your friendly neighborhood Peter Parker, Spider-Man had loved everything about being an Alpha. He was thrilled when he finally presented freshman year and proved that nerdy little “Puny” Parker was more than meets the eye (and hadn’t that just been convenient a little over a year later when that spider bite left him with too-tight sweater vests over a new six-pack, an uncanny ability to avoid Flash Thompson, and a useless pair of glasses). Even when Uncle Ben had been shot in front of him because he was young and angry and too co*cky with his newfound powers, the responsibility of being the Alpha of the house and being there for May had been enough to help him through his grief and out the other side. He’d wanted to be someone Ben could have been proud of, whether he was using his powers or not.

Before, Peter hadn’t even really minded the struggle to balance his time between his studies at Empire State University with regular patrols around New York and freelancing at The Bugle. He had prided himself on being an Alpha that people knew they could trust to walk them home at night or to spend his days between classes standing guard and studying in a dorm common room and warning off other Alphas while single Omegas rode their heats out safely in the adjoining, locked bedrooms. He’d marveled over the honor of being asked to help Gwen, the most intelligent, quick-witted, beautiful person he knew, through a heat for the first time. Peter had loved dating Gwen even when it was even more difficult to balance his life and his vigilante career as New York’s least-favorite wall-crawler when he wanted to spend all his time with his face buried in her hair, breathing in their mingled scents and listening to her talk about her research and thinking about how desperately he wanted to mate with her before she left to study in Oxford.

Before the Goblin formula warped Norman Osborn into the Green Goblin, because being a brilliant scientist and powerful CEO and one of the richest men in the world wasn’t enough for him — the Beta had to try to find a way to become an Alpha too, to be top of the social pecking order in every way conceivable. Before the Green Goblin figured out who Peter was, before he kidnapped Gwen and Spider-Man wasn’t smart enough or fast enough to save her when she was tossed off that bridge. Before the webslinger wasn’t fast or strong enough to save both himself and Osborn when the man had remote-controlled the Goblin Glider in an attempt to shish kebab Spider-Man and had ended up skewered to the stone himself instead.

Before Peter Parker wasn’t strong enough to carry Harry Osborn through the desolation Spider-Man had caused. Before Harry started coping with his obsession over his father’s death at Spider-Man’s hands with benzos and expensive whiskey and elaborate rants about the web-slinging menace that rivaled those of J. Jonah Jameson. Before his mood swings and grief-induced paranoia led Harry to accuse Peter of abandoning him because he was “just a Beta” in favor of “being a big, bad Alpha.” Meanwhile, the hero was barely stumbling through his schoolwork, much less secret vigilante patrols, on top of mourning Gwen and Captain Stacy and Norman, all of whom he’d failed so horribly. Before Harry stumbled onto both the Green Goblin’s and Spider-Man’s true identities. Before Spider-Man doomed another person, and before he had to defeat a younger, bitter Green Goblin. Before Peter had to watch his best friend be institutionalized, possibly permanently.

After he lost everything that made life outside of school, Aunt May, and Spider-Man feel like it mattered, he’d needed a way to keep other people’s scents from overwhelming him when all his senses were dialed up to eleven on patrol. The first time he tried to go back out after Gwen, he’d had a panic attack at the first wave of metallic, sour fear and distress pouring off an Omega being mugged. Spider-Man was barely able to help the man before he was being violently sick in a dumpster, unable to stop the sense memory of his webs going unbearably taut and then slack; he had been overwhelmed by his pulse jackhammering in recollection of the way Gwen’s terror had set his adrenaline rushing in the same way this man’s panic was now. The agitation of grief and anger coming off him when he pulled his mask up a little too far was enough to send the freshly-rescued Omega skittering back in renewed fear. It had been another week after that before he’d dared to try another patrol.

After, it was also safer and less distressing for everyone else when he started to double up on his normal application of a scent-blocker by lining his suit and mask with two-way scent filters. He’d thought about trying out Alpha suppressants again too, but they didn’t seem to work right with his body since the bite. Plus the idea of going through a chemically-induced rut when he could still smell her in his bed and would know she was never coming back was worse than having to smell a hundred frightened Omegas. This also served to keep his scent away from others, both to better hide his civilian identity and because he just wasn’t as good at controlling his stronger emotions anymore. It no longer took a flashback to Gwen or a hit from Rhino cracking half his ribs and smashing him through a wall before he was spilling out pheromones that would put the most even-tempered Beta on edge.

After, he developed a habit of checking his suit and mask twice for tears and ensuring that his mask filters were fully functional before patrolling, and sometimes had to call it a night early if either was damaged enough. It was far safer and less distressing for everyone if his scent wasn’t adding fuel to the fire. Luckily, Peter Parker didn’t tend to run into many situations more trying than focusing a microscope or corralling the occasional unruly undergrad, but for Spider-Man, creating another barrier between himself and the world has become a necessity.

He adjusted the edges of his gloves one more time, then checked his lens’ heads-up display for current filter efficiency. He’d have to switch the ones in his mask out again before his next night of patrol, just to be safe, but they would be fine for a routine reconnaissance of OsCorp’s “secret” lower-level labs and his regular nightly swing through the city. The company had managed to avoid any culpability in Norman’s stint as the Green Goblin or his death, but Spider-Man had been everywhere in the Osborn penthouse (on and off the blueprints registered with the city), and there were no clean rooms or labs there with adequate equipment to create the Goblin serum. As far as Peter Parker’s normal visits and Spider-Man’s after-hours check-ins could ascertain, Harry Osborn had been toeing the line and was even responding to therapy. Nonetheless, it couldn’t hurt to be too careful.

After one last roll of his shoulders, Spider-Man dropped down into the elevator shaft. With a few taps and murmured commands, the security camera locations, building blueprints, and his system’s LiDAR and radio backscatter for parts of the undocumented below-ground labs he hadn’t finished mapping out yet were overlaid on his lens HUD. He hadn’t discovered anything but above-board, perfectly ethical, human experimentation-free work even in the sub-basem*nt testing areas of Oscorp since the Green Goblin events, so he expected an hour or so of light recon before he got onto the evening’s real patrol. He did not expect the faint tingle of his Spidey-Sense across the back of his neck for the first twenty minutes of his crawl-through, followed by what felt like a minor earthquake. He also did not expect to be halted four floors deep in the not-so-secret labs by his Spidey-Sense screaming at him to leap back as bullets fired into the cramped ductwork, followed by screaming and the pungent, unmistakable stench of blood and urine.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Wade unsheathed a knife from his belt as he crept up behind the lone guard unlucky enough to be the first person in his way that night. He almost gagged at the overwhelming scent of cheap aftershave coming off the man.

『At least that Axe he’s wearing is probably strong enough that we won’t have to smell anyone’s uber-Alpha bullsh*t on this entire floor.』

Wade nodded with a thoughtful grimace as he covered the guard’s mouth with one hand and slit his throat with the other. He had to agree with that assessment.

The ground level, basem*nt parking lot, and first two sub-basem*nt levels of labs, which were all on publicly available blueprints for Oscorp Tower, had fairly standard security measures: a few guards per floor on synchronized rounds and cameras trained on main hallways and sensitive areas. Aside from the guards, who were easily evaded, these floors were empty so late at night. Entering the property after hours without triggering any alarms in the first place had been a joke. Wade’s skills hadn’t been tested at all until he approached the entrance to the third, “secret” sub-basem*nt lab level, where, as the information from his employer at Horizon Labs had predicted, things got marginally more interesting.

The body spray-drenched security guard had been the first person to get in Wade’s way all night. Although if he was being honest with himself, the merc more than hoped he wouldn’t be the last. His mouth stretched into a feral grin under his leather-and-kevlar mask as he continued down the service hallway. Some people just got extra horny or craved weird food when they were in pre-heat, but he’d always gotten antsy and a little extra violent.

“Let’s see, left at the second supply closet, yup. Right at the dead body, check. Scooch up right under the security camera and disable it, let’s see… Uhhh, got it. What am I missing?”

「Must. Resist urge. To sing. Off-key spying theme music.」

『No one will buy Deadpool obscurely referencing The Emperor’s New Groove. We’re not even the one here who’s technically a Disney character.』

“Oh, right. The door. The door to the secret lab, the lab I’m supposed to be infiltrating in exchange for money, the secret lab door. That door.” Wade expertly ignored the boxes’ commentary and looked at the camera he had just disabled, then at the marked fire exit across from it. Fire exits didn’t normally have keycard locks and thumbprint scans rigged into the alarm systems.

“Man, I’m so glad I grabbed a few souvenirs off Tapout McOldSpice back there. I really didn’t want to have to go looking for another guard.” He pulled an ID card and a bloody stump of a thumb out of a belt pouch, swiping them against the appropriate scanners one after the other. The lights blinked a baleful yellow, and the devices each emitted a flat beeping. He tried again the opposite order, then simultaneously, with the same result. “Are you f*cking kidding me? Fine!”

With one heavily-booted foot, Wade smashed into the door’s push-bar. With the opposite hand, he pulled his Sig P320 from its shoulder holster and shot the uncooperative scanners, then the alarm for good measure. The wide grin returned to his masked face as he slipped through the now-defunct door to the hidden stairwell. If there hadn’t been a welcoming party waiting for him before, there certainly should be now.

「Our way is more fun anyway.」

By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, the Sig was stowed and he was debating between the benefits of trying to regain a few stealth points by breaking in the twins and just jumping right into using the pistols that were still strapped safely into their holsters. He still hadn’t decided which approach to use when he cracked open the level-three door. He was greeted by a rush of air from an overhead duct and the far-off whir of machinery, but the landing hallway was otherwise silent. He must have gotten lucky and somehow managed not to set off any alarms thus far.

『Unless they don’t have any alarms down here, which would be stupid. Or they’re already off for some other reason.』

He co*cked his head to the left and listened harder. He could hear, very faintly, the rustle and hum of human activity and excitingly breakable equipment around and below him. With the door to the stairwell shut, he probably wouldn’t be able to detect any indication of the giant, normal-bustling office building towering stories above him.

『That makes sense if you’re getting rich off top-secret experiments that other people want to steal.』

「Especially experiments that involve super fun amounts of screaming.」

Wade grimaced and tried not to shudder at the thought. “Well luckily Stone isn’t stupid enough to one, hire me for data recovery on projects that involve unwilling participants; B, stop me from the side quest I’m going to have to go on if I find any wacko mad scientist bullsh*t; or lastly, try to weasel — ”

「Heh, Weasel. I kinda miss that slime-ball.」

“ — his way out of paying me if it turns out that a little extracurricular bloodbath is in order.”

At that point, he finally exited the stairwell fully, shutting the door behind himself as he automatically scanned the visible hallway branches for camera lines-of-sight and the most likely patrol patterns of the undoubtedly beefed-up security on these lower levels. He sprinted across the tiled floor to the nearest camera, flipped a sturdy butterfly knife into his hand, and reached up to deftly cut the fiber optic cable feeding the image back to the control room without disrupting the power cord or camera housing in a repeat of his takedown of the camera one level above. With that, the drinking fountain alcove a few yards down the hallway, toward which he silently moved, became a partially-protected blindspot from which Wade could plan the next few steps of his infiltration.

『Which is a really weird phrase. Feels wrong to say, almost. “Wade Wilson” and “planning” should never be found in the same paragraph, let alone the same sentence.』

「Unless that sentence includes the phrase “planning to kill Wade Wilson.” Which I’m not opposed to, for the record.」

『Something about this whole set-up is hinting that maybe that info from Doctor Stone was a little hinky. This is already even easier than it really should be.』

Wade ducked back down, still on high alert. He had expected some sort of active impediment by now, at least in the way of an alarm and an automatic gate or two, however little good that would have done. Was it possible that he, somehow, still hadn’t tripped anything? If it was a frame-up, that blowhard Tiberius (and his whole sh*tty lab up to and including smarter, browner Doogie Howser) — 

『Oh, and his whole dumb secret organization of ninja buddies that it is totally not obvious he’s a member of.』

Yeah, Tiberius was going to be real f*cking sorry.

The thought cheered him enormously. He skipped down the stark white halls, the only noise the buzzing of the lights and the squeak of his boots on the asbestos tile. The main hallway branched several times, and his first three attempts were dead-ends leading to what looked like a mix of administrative offices, physics labs, and oversized chemistry play-sets. The fourth hallway he tried ended in a wind tunnel, of all things. The fifth hallway ended in a T-intersection.

“Seriously, is there no emergency exit map in this place? What happens if there’s a fire?” he queried into the aether. To be fair, a fire was a much more imminent possibility, now that he had entered the building. Not that it would affect him too much either way. With a shrug, he took the left path. As luck would have it, that was a bad choice —  for the break room full of off-duty lab technicians and security personnel he ambled into, that is. The murmur of over-caffeinated, underpaid, graveyard shift conversation ground to a startled halt.

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Wade exclaimed brightly. “You guys should have at least a keycard lock on your break room doors too, I mean seriously. Do you know what kind of people could just waltz right into this place?” He shook his head. “I mean, what’s the point of all those fancy locking mechanisms and biometric scanners on all your labs out there if someone can just pop right on in here and scoop out all the eyeballs they need?”

A mousy man in an oversized lab coat fell off his chair with a squeak. Then the shooting started. Wade cackled as he unholstered his weapons once again, and he barely bothered to dodge as he joined in the fray. The lab rats wisely scurried for cover — a mystery what good they thought that would do them — behind tables, vending machines, and each other.

「Ooh, vending machines! Can we get a snack while we’re here? I’m hungry.」

『Why are you always hungry in the middle of shootouts?』

「Watching him shoot people makes me hungry. Also, that vending machine has those Hershey Cookies and Cream candy bars, and I’ve had a weirdly intense craving for them that somebody keeps ignoring.」

『I wish you could both get shot and stay down.』

The guards, who seemed to have at least minimal training in handling super-powered weirdos in masks, wasted no time in laying down suppressive fire. If he’d been a little less durable or a little more worried about injuring any of the unarmed people in the room, it even might have been effective in slowing Wade down.

As it was, he’d only taken a handful of bullets before he’d taken down everyone with a weapon. Without looking away from the cowering technicians, he fired off a round in the direction of the doorway he’d come in through. From the scream, it sounded like he’d hit the idiot making a run for it. Good for him.

“You all wanna be like that guy?” he snarled at the survivors. The ones brave enough to look up when he started talking jerked back, and most of them shook their heads. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. If you sit tight in here for another hour before trying to call anyone or leaving, nothing bad is gonna happen to you. I mean, y’know, at least not from me, tonight. Statistically, other bad things are going to happen to you, but they probably won’t be my fault. Anyway, we good?”

“How do we know you’re not going to just kill us all anyway?” a woman piped up a few feet away from him. She smelled just as pants-pissing scared as the rest of them, but there was also a strong undercurrent of Alpha protectiveness that made Wade’s stomach churn as much as it made him sort of want to stand nearer to her, being this close to his heat as he was. He should shoot her just on principle. Instead, he just smiled sweetly through his mask.

“Well, you’ll just have to trust me, and trust each other not to do anything real f*cking dumb, huh?” The sound of a body dragging itself toward the door was loud in the otherwise silent room. Wade whirled around and shot the lab rat he’d previously wounded dead in the eye. Several people screamed, and someone in the back of the room vomited noisily. “Like that. Don’t do that. Be good while Daddypool does his job, and you’ll be fine. Bye-bye now. Mwah!”

With a dramatic air kiss, which for some reason seemed to disturb a few of them more than the gunshot had, Wade busied himself snagging a couple of keycards off downed security guards, dropping them into the same pouch storing the one he’d gone for on the level above and hoping that these would prove marginally more useful than that had been, and backed out of the room. He holstered his left pistol and casually hooked the fingers of that hand into the collar of the attempted escape artist to drag the body from the room with him. He kept his other gun trained on the mouthy Alpha woman near the front of the room until the door shut behind him.

Wade dropped the corpse on the tile just in front of the break room. No reason to drag it any farther than he needed to. He snapped open another small pouch on his belt and dropped the dead idiot’s ID card inside, then tugged a small knife from his boot to collect thumbs and index fingers to store with it. He pulled open the body’s unmangled eye, thoughtfully returning its blank stare as he tilted the head back and forth. He spread the eye’s upper and lower lids to make a few careful incisions. With a deft swipe of his thumb, the orb popped free and was left hanging by the optic nerve, which he did his best to cut without tugging on the eyeball at all.

「That went well.」

『Eyeballs are gross. C’mon, even you gotta think this is gross.』

「I don’t know. I’m a little turned on right now. I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me.」

『I f*cking hate you.』

“Shoulda grabbed some Tupperware while I was in there,” he muttered with a shrug while wiping the knife blade clean on the formerly pristine lapels of the white lab coat. The eyeballs, now wrapped lightly in a square cut from the dead man’s t-shirt, were dropped gingerly into the pouch, which he left unsnapped.

Wade strolled through the rest of the third-level labs in considerably better spirits. After all that gunplay, he felt like his knives might be getting a little jealous. Just in case, he pulled out a butterfly knife, not stopping in his ongoing search.

『All right seriously, was every single security guard taking a break at the same time? Why is no one patrolling this lab?』

His grip on the balisong still clutched in his left hand tightened. That was definitely weird and had him back to questioning his client’s intel and motives. He knew he should have negotiated higher terms on the job when Patch handed it over him. Now it was just more work to do once he got out of this place, which was, quite frankly, starting to give him the heebie-jeebies with all the empty hallways and the flickering lights and the sound of heavy boots approaching. Wait, heavy boots?

“Ugh, finally.” The knife went back into a belt pouch, and he had a PPQ gripped in each hand before the guard rounded the corner. The Walthers might not be as shiny and nice as his Desert Eagles, but he was getting paid for simple retrieval, not to stand around looking pretty and intimidating. He was throwing a little of that in for free anyway, but with his luscious figure, that just couldn’t be helped. All that leather had to be good for something.

As the heavy-booted guard came fully into view, the mercenary leaned around the edge of the alcove and rapidly squeezed off both triggers before the man had a chance to react. The body toppled backward in a boneless heap in relative silence.

『You think we’re going to have to worry about running out of ammo in this fic?』

Wade ignored the box floating insistently in front of him. There were still no alarms, so he must have scared that roomful of lab rats pretty thoroughly. Still, even if he hadn’t been in full view of a camera, the dropped body was. Someone was going to notice that eventually. Well, might as well have a little fun while he was looking for what he needed. And he had brought plenty of ammo, thank you very much.

『And like twice as many grenades as you needed. You two have a problem.』

「Excuse me, I don’t have a problem. I have ahobby.」

The mutate perked up considerably at the idea. A good explosion after the retrieval was successful would put his night right back on track. Well, the quicker he found that server room, the quicker he could cause even more property damage and head out to get paid. f*ck the alarms, f*ck the cameras, and f*ck this ninja sh*t. This was boring. If Stone had cared that much about discretion, then Patch wouldn’t have handed the job to Wade in the first place.

Wade turned back toward the right-hand hall, the only place left in his sweep of the third level. He strode purposefully down the once again silent hallway. Hopefully, the eye still jostling around his belt pouch remained adequately undamaged to open up any iris or retinal scanners between him and his destination. He didn’t want to blow up any doors too early and risk losing the data he was being paid to retrieve, especially if it meant he might also lose the opportunity to collect more personally relevant data.

The red-clad mercenary gingerly plucked the ID card, fingers, and still-wrapped eyeball from his belt. He stopped in front of the locked, vault-like door, which, as expected, appeared to have several different scanners attached. To his relief, swiping the keycard gave him a green light instead of a red one on the first scanner and a high-pitched chirp, although the light on the door itself remained yellow. The thumbprint was likewise accepted with a cheerful beep.

“Man, they don’t mess around here,” he muttered. He unwrapped the eye, brushing off a few pieces of lint, and carefully held it up to the corresponding scanner. Nothing happened.

“Aw crap,” he complained, bringing the pupil level with his own and inspecting it. A curling hair was plastered across the iris, which he peeled away and wiped absently on his leg. He placed the eye in front of the scanner again, tilting it to approximate the angle of someone bending over to reach the lens. This time, it read perfectly, and as the light turned green, so did the light on the vault door, which also emitted a rising chime as it slid open to reveal a cramped office with two empty desks, several screens showing green and black text connected to a tangled mess of cables, and a cracked door from which was coming a bright light and a steady, low stream of air.

「Finally.」

『Get to work, Freddy Krueger.』

Wade bypassed the desks entirely and moved forward into the brightly lit room beyond to search for a computer technician to threaten.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Luckily for Wade, he didn’t have to search too far once he entered the server room. Only a few rows into the extensive storage space, he found a blonde Beta man assisting a purple-haired Omega woman with what looked like an annoying number of fiddly screws and wires behind a wheeled server rack.

The two computer engineers were chatting quietly as they worked, oblivious to any outside sounds under the white noise of the blowing air-conditioning vents surrounding them and buzzing fluorescent lights above. Not that Wade could blame them for not exactly being on the alert. They probably didn’t normally get too many visitors in the middle of the night, especially of his outstanding caliber.

He prowled silently around the next row of racks and leaned up against the case right behind the man while the two were leaned over a drive on one of the lowest shelves. Unhooking a frag grenade from his belt and adopting a casual pose, he waited for them to straighten up.

「The absolute drama.」

“Hey there! Glad to see that Oscorp takes its cable management so seriously. I hate to interrupt your fine work, but as it turns out, your boss has some stuff I need. And guess what? You lucky ducks get to help me find it!” Wade chirped with a mad grin plastered across his mask, tossing the grenade in the air like a softball. The technicians’ faces went white, and their eyes were unable to choose a focus between the bouncing explosive and Wade’s heavily armed figure.

“You wanna play catch?” He moved as if to lob the grenade in their direction. The purple-haired woman let out a squeak as she flailed away and spilled out of her crouch onto the smooth cement floor. Wade barked out a laugh. “Sorry, recess is over. Why don’t we head back into your office? I can tell you what I need, and you can show me where to find it.”

“O-or what?” the blonde man stuttered out.

“Or I hamstring you and this young lady gets her ass off the floor and gets to take a turn. You ever seen someone’s calf muscle roll right up like a Roman window shade? Feels super weird, lemme tell ya,” the mercenary responded evenly.

The Beta swallowed hard, eyes darting between the grenade Wade was still tossing back forth and the woman still sprawled on the floor. “Okay,” he whispered. The woman nodded in silence.

“Great! Now both of you, turn and face the rack and put your hands behind your back. Oh hey, I rhymed! Merc with a mouth earning his moniker over here.”

The pair complied with relative speed. At least Oscorp didn’t hire total idiots, although clearly, he’d have to be on the lookout for any panic switches they might be able to trip. He busied himself with cuffing the woman’s wrists together in a prayer position behind her back, then doing the same to the man. He drew one gun from its holster, ensuring the two were both able to catch a glimpse of it before he gave further instructions.

He led them back to the office he’d gone through to reach the server room, then busied himself with securing them to the rolling office chairs one at a time, binding their torsos first and then securing their ankles well away from the ground. He swallowed hard at the increased pounding of his heart as his adrenaline started to rush in response to the stress and fear coming off them in waves.

“Okay, who wants to share their password and tell me how to find what I need?” Wade asked brightly.

“It, uh…” the woman trailed off weakly, clearing her throat several times and looking away. “It’s a password and a thumbprint.” She jerked her chin at the odd-looking device connected to the side of one of the keyboards.

“Christ, you people are way too into biometric security measures here. Better hope Doc Connors gets his sh*t figured out before too many of you end up missing body parts every time some corporate espionage goes ugly. So who’s helping?” He whirled the man’s chair around and slammed it back against the nearest desk, yanking the Beta’s cuffed hands back and pinning them to the desk with a knife.

“Great, thanks for volunteering.” Wade flipped the keyboard upside down to press the device attached to the side against the man’s left thumb. He poised his fingers above the keys. “Password?”

“It’s, um, it’s just long for the security and it needed to be something I would remember, but it’s Stucky5ever. The S is capitalized.” Somehow, the man still had the emotional bandwidth to look somewhat embarrassed.

“You know what? Not even gonna ask,” Wade muttered as he dutifully typed in each letter. “Now let’s get me what I need so I can get out of here and get paid.”

「I’mbored. Can’t we just use one little grenade?」

Between them, the two computer engineers orally directed Wade through their digital file storage to the particular telecommunications project that Horizon Labs was looking to get ahold of.

『To be fair, it’s probably just Stone trying to get ahead and look good, not the whole lab.』

“Will you shaddap? If you shut up, we can blow up a whole building later,” Wade hissed under his breath, ignoring the newly alarmed looks cast in his direction.

「Promise?」

『The bar is so low. Ugh, fine. Promise?』

Wade jerked his head in assent, and the chattering boxes over his head (which grated on him more than the constant ache and burn of his flesh on some days) went mercifully blank for the moment.

The computer engineer quickly provided him with the documents, along with the information to unlock the encrypted files, which were helpfully loaded onto a preexisting thumb drive that the mutate promptly pocketed. They continued to cooperate up until he demanded that they help him wipe the files from their server.

“What? You can’t do that!” the blonde spluttered. “Take all the copies you want, but I don’t want to be guaranteed to lose my job on top of everything else!” Wade pulled his KA-BAR from its sheath with a shark-like grin, pointing the blade at the man’s eye.

“That right?” He leaned over and slammed the blade through the Beta’s hand into the wooden desk, wiggling it back and forth a little as the man screamed. The crotch of the blonde’s pants darkened, and the acrid scent of urine filled the enclosed space. The fresh wave of terrified pheromones following close behind ratcheted up Wade’s heartbeat again. “How about now?”

“O-okay,” the man barely managed to gasp out. The woman whimpered softly, and the Omega scent carried along with her fear made Wade start to feel sick. He gritted his teeth against it.

As the engineers began to give him a fresh set of instructions in wavering voices, Wade clicked through a few folders at random, browsing for data that might be of interest either for sale or for his personal mission that had made him so eager to pick up this job in the first place.

While scrolling through what appeared to be a drive partition dedicated to the medical and biotech lab data, Wade paused. He paled with recognition under his mask. Would those so-called doctors be co*cky and stupid enough to use their real names while working on morally disreputable projects in a covert underground lab for a company with a reputation currently under scrutiny? The answer appeared to be affirmative if the .mov file he pulled up at random — a thankfully soundless video of what appeared to be the vivisection of a subject who lost consciousness halfway through —  was any indication.

『Hey look, I think I recognize that guy! He was there when we showed up, wasn’t he? Very imaginative.』

「Helped make your outsides just as horrifying as your insides! I was impressed, personally. Did some fun stuff to your insides too.」

“f*ck. You know what? I just like it so much here, I think I’m going to stay a little while longer. Wouldn’t want to miss out on the best part of the behind-the-scenes tour,” Wade ground out between gritted teeth, digging the KA-BAR’s blade another inch into the sturdy desk and enjoying the feel of the man’s pinned, fragile metacarpals rasping against the steel. The Beta screamed again, his voice ragged and hoarse.

The captive techs ducked their heads, visibly shaking. The man looked like he was about to vomit and pass out, though not necessarily in that order. Wade took a modicum of pity on him, turning his attention to the purple-haired Omega woman instead. She was more likely to be useful at this point anyway. Besides, she looked frightened enough that even as nauseated and out-of-control as he was feeling, he wouldn’t have any trouble managing her.

“Looks like you’re up. Now, I’m going to untie you. You’re going to find every last file tagged with that project key number or authored by any username associated with the project. You’re going to copy those files onto these drives. You’re going to wipe every possible iteration and back-up from the servers. If you can get that done without doing anything stupid, Mister Piss-pants over here probably won’t sustain too much more damage, and I’ll let both of you go before I melt everything in here into slag. Think you can do that?”

Wade twisted the blade into the blonde’s hand and the splintering tabletop once more for good measure. The gray-faced man let out a faint groan. The woman shuddered and nodded silently as he stalked toward her, a second, identical knife drawn, and sliced through the ropes binding her to the chair before releasing the manacles still tight around her wrists.

Before she had the chance to stand up completely, Wade was towering over the still-constrained man, yanking his head back by the hair with one hand pressing the new blade to his throat with the other. The trembling Beta let out a sob that ended in a strangled wheeze as Wade tightened his grip.

The woman worked swiftly, without complaint, and the man remained still and silent under Wade’s blade as they waited. She gingerly placed the new stack of USB drives a few feet away from the mutate once she finished, and collapsed back down into her chair.

“That everything?” he queried. She nodded helplessly.

“Did you erase it all?” She nodded again.

“Great! Okay, just one more thing. You two wanna give me real good directions to those holding cells?”

“I… I’m not sure. I’ve never seen them before. This might not even be on site.” The woman looked sick, and Wade could tell it wasn’t just from being around him.

“Exam rooms? You got a medical research section down here?” Deadpool pressed.

“Sub-level four. I’ve never seen it,” she responded faintly. “We don’t have the clearance to go past this level. I wouldn’t have even known we had those files either. No reason to.” He glanced at her, then at the man, who seemed to be on the verge of fainting. She might even have been telling the truth. Either way, a promise was a promise, which usually meant that Wade didn’t give a sh*t. Still, these two had served their purpose and looked shook up enough that he didn’t feel an immediate need to blow them up. He would rather save his rage for people that deserved it first.

The purple-haired woman didn’t resist as he snapped the cuffs back onto her wrists. He plucked two of the grenades off his belt and tossed them neatly into the server room, twirling the pins on his fingers, then co*cked his head, thinking about it for a moment before throwing in a third. He pushed his office-chair-bound prisoners out the door and well around the corner before shutting both the flimsier office door and the vault-like exterior door. The small, rumbling explosion a few seconds later was noticeable, but surprisingly well-contained. Or at least, Deadpool thought so until the door was slammed outward with a billow of dark, toxic-smelling dust, the sprinkler system went off, and he heard boots on the stairs.

「I didn’t even get tosee that explosion.」

Deadpool could feel the voice pouting in disappointment as he rounded the corner. He rolled his eyes.

Deadpool approached the set of stairs down to the fourth sub-floor, from which he could hear many heavy boots ascending. After a moment of thought, he pulled a couple of heavier-caliber handguns, leaving the knives tucked away for the moment. He didn’t know exactly how many he’d be up against, and he did kind of want to wrap this up and be able to head back home before morning. He also needed to get down to the next level as quickly as possible, before anyone involved with the project he’d seen was able to escape. He didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary tracking them down.

Before the noise of boots could reach the top of the stairs, Deadpool readied himself around the corner, aiming for the first shot. The door opened, and as soon as the first uniformed body cleared the doorframe, it was down.

“Headshot, hundred points!” the mercenary cried out gleefully. The next several minutes were a blur of motion and deafening noise. His vision clouded a little and refocused, his enemies now indistinguishable from one another as his XP count increased after each kill. He snatched the random drops of ammo and weapons from their bodies as the ones he was holding were knocked from his hands or jammed.

「Woo! I love this game!」

When his vision cleared again, he was halfway down one of the first big lab spaces he’d checked when he’d entered the level. The sprinklers and blaring alarm had finally shut off, but warning lights were still flashing at regular intervals.

He’d dropped one of his PPQs along the way and picked up a guard’s M9, but he still had all his remaining grenades, and only, like, four bullets were working their way out of his body. None of them had even hit anywhere important. More importantly, his suit hadn’t been torn anywhere near a scent gland. Deadpool rolled his mask up momentarily, just enough to spit out the blood pooling in his mouth.

『Oh gross, was that a tooth?』

He tramped his way back down the corridor in search of his gun. He ran his tongue along the new gap in his mouth as he stepped on and over bodies without regard, listening for reinforcements. Regrowing teeth always felt so weird. From the sound of things, security hadn’t figured out he’d wiped out their first team yet. More importantly, his suit was starting to get even more uncomfortable than clothes usually were on his sensitive skin. Time to get a move on.

The mutate popped through the door, propped open by the body of the first few unlucky Oscorp guards he’d felled, and dashed down the stairs two at a time. He hopped over the railing at the landing to bypass the second half of the steps and strode through the door at the bottom, shaking out his left ankle as the bones realigned with a crack.

The fourth sub-floor of labs appeared to be laid out completely differently than the upper R&D lab laboratories, but at least it only had one line-of-sight corridor. That would make things easier. Deadpool stalked down the bright, impossibly clean hallway in the direction he suspected the security control room would be, not bothering to deviate down side-pathways. The cacophony of unknown machinery’s high-pitched whirring and low buzzing sounds overlaid with the trace scents of bleach and terror scratched and tugged at his brain.

『Reminds me of our first date a little, eh? Ah, memories.』

「Now those were some inventive people. Visionaries, even.」

The mutate tugged at the edges of his mask and gloves agitatedly as he continued down the corridor, smoothing over the places where the pieces of his suit overlapped and hid both his scars and scent glands. His already-rapid pace increased as he made his way further into the harshly illuminated level.

『Yeah, like that’s going to be effective. We already know exactly what kind of horror show we’re dealing with here.』

「More of a horror show than having to look at this guy all the time?」

“Shaddap,” Deadpool hissed wearily and without hope that it would do much good.

He’d barely made it a third of the way down the hallway when even more heavily armed, uniformed people poured out of two different rooms on the right side of the corridor. The closest were practically within arm’s reach already. While they were still fumbling with their weapons and attempting to duck into recessed doorways, Deadpool’s katanas were unsheathed with a barely audible snick.

“Hey guys, nice of you to finally join the party!” he shouted.

The third bloodbath of the night began, and Deadpool came out swinging. In the crowded hallway of what would normally be considered skilled fighters, his blades were a blur of glinting metal heralded by screams and delightfully artistic arterial spray.

「We are anartiste.」

“Jackson Pollock who?” Deadpool crowed.

The merc cut down bodies left, right, and center, a mad grin on his masked face only widening as he danced around and through his opponents with apparent effortlessness. He advanced steadily toward the only door in the corridor that had stayed firmly shut despite the chaos raging just beyond. Only half paying attention to the few enemies still standing in the hallway once he reached his target, Deadpool sheathed one katana long enough to empty a clip into the locking mechanism and throw himself bodily into the door.

The surviving security wasted no time in following him into the ops center, located right where Deadpool expected it to be. The mercenary slipped inside the room behind the armed guards keeping watch over the CCTV system and security control switches for the labs beyond. A glance at the displays against one wall confirmed the fear churning deep in his stomach under a mass of boiling rage: there were certainly people being kept in this lab, and at least a couple of so-called “doctors” were here on the late-night shift watching their “patients.”

Bullets would be too quick for anyone involved in this project. Deadpool lapsed into a grim silence, uninterrupted by even the narration of the boxes, as he set back to work. The floor quickly ran slick or sticky in parts, making his work a little harder, but also making it more difficult for the remaining guards to run from him. One of the last few standing made the mistake of getting too close and found himself pinned to the wall by one arm, a katana embedded through his flesh into several inches of the drywall and wood framing. The idiot kept firing at him anyway, making it too difficult to reach the CCTV controls.

“Son of a bitch!” Deadpool howled. “I don’t f*cking have time for this.” He yanked his P320 from his shoulder holster. Of course, the same idiot managed to fire off a shot right through Deadpool’s hand at the same time. The Sig dropped from his temporarily useless, mangled fingers to the floor. The weapon hit the ground at an angle and went off, piercing the metal ductwork crisscrossing the ceiling.

『You really should have paid attention to that trigger recall, dumbass. I told you not to go with the 320.』

“Mother hugger! That was close!”

Deadpool heard a vaguely familiar voice carrying through the vent from the room ahead. He paused in his massacre, briefly distracted. Even the surviving guards slowed their shooting for a moment in confusion before picking up with a renewed fury.

“Sorry it took me so long! Sounds like the party started without me!” the voice continued buoyantly, getting clearer and louder. “My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail after my last fight with your boss!”

The door slammed open with a resounding bang, embedding the handle fully into the wall directly next to where the unfortunate guard was still pinned. A lithe figure swathed in bright red and rich blue stepped beyond smoking wreckage and almost instantly lifted Wade’s mood despite the circ*mstances.

“You again?” Spider-Man snarled in disbelief as soon as he spotted the red-and-black-clad mutate. “Whoa guys, don’t worry, Daddy Spidey’s got time for everyone.” This last remark was directed at the uniformed guards who turned their attention from Deadpool to the new intruder. Spider-Man gracefully dodged blows from the last two security guards standing and webbed them to the wall without ever turning his attention away from Wade.

「Daddy Spidey? Whelp, I have a new fetish.」

『Bold of you to assume this idiot didn’t already have that fetish.』

「Yeah, but now I do too.」

『I swear to Christ, if I hear so much asone daddy longlegs joke out of you — 』

“Sweetums, it’s you!” the merc exclaimed with a squeal, valiantly ignoring the sudden cramping in his abdomen that meant he was that much closer to his heat. “Sorry about that, I would have been way more careful if I knew you were here. Probably would’ve worn my date night boots, too.”

「Would’ve brought the pretty guns if we knew there was going to be someone around here to impress.」

『I’m impressed that he’s already mad at you. He just got here. That’s the kind of attitude I like to see in a man.』

“Oh, that’s right, speaking of impressed! Hey Webhead, do you like my new girls?” He waved the bloodied katana in his left hand, gesturing with his mangled right arm to the other sword still partially embedded in both the half-conscious security guard and the wall. Spider-Man, meanwhile, was carefully webbing up the same man to support his weight away from the pinned arm and applying webbing around the injury as if he was concerned about the bastard’s blood loss. “I had to retire Bea and Arthur — I’m sure you remember them pretty well after we had the chance to get real up close and personal last winter, still sorry about that by the way, aside from getting to watch your moves in all that spandex because I am so not sorry about that, baby boy — after a cool little mission we had in Morocco. Feats of derring-do, a literal backstabbing, and no less than three superhero landings! No big deal. I’ll tell you all about it when we get out of here!” the merc babbled, still thrown off by his hero’s sudden appearance.

“Anyway, Mary-Kate, Ashley, this is Spidey. Spidey, these beautiful ladies are oh-so-affectionately known as the Olsen twins. Very pretty, sharper than they look, and I was inexplicably attached the moment I saw them. Kinda like you!” His waggling eyebrows and the exaggerated wink he threw at the wary, exasperated hero were surely visible even through his mask.

“I don’t have time for this,” Spider-Man said flatly, refusing to engage with Wade’s witty, winning banter. Without ever fully turning his back to the mercenary, the arachnid stepped lightly amongst the fallen bodies, discarded weapons, and quickly congealing blood on the icy concrete floor toward the back of the control room. The webhead directed his attention to the array of screens and corresponding bank of switches and keyboards, flipping between the video feeds of the occupied cells, exam rooms, offices, and the scorched and bloodied hallway evidencing Wade’s path through the building.

Wade took the opportunity to eye the deceptively lithe hero while he was distracted, mentally replaying the way the smaller man had effortlessly smashed open the steel doors of the ops center (and once again wondering if it was possible to wear anything under that lusciously skintight costume). Spider-Man muttered to himself as he worked.

Wade’s stomach muscles clenched with more cramps, and he realized that thinking about his newest spank bank fodder probably wasn’t the best idea at the moment. It was more important to concentrate on finding out just what Spider-Man was even doing there, both generally and at the moment. To Wade’s surprise, the hero even appeared to be wiping the surveillance footage of the evening, such as it was.

『Yeah, he probably doesn’t want to be linked to you at all, which he will be if people see you were here at the same time.』

「I wouldn’t want to be associated with you, and I’m stuck in your head.」

“Oh hey, is your little recon mission here why no alarms went off even when I got real stabby about halfway through level three and had to start collecting eyes and stuff to get down here? They didn’t even notice I was here until I exploded their server room,” Wade shared innocently. There was a loud crash as the hero’s fist went straight through the computer he had been using. Shoulders a taut line, the webbed wonder rounded sharply on Wade with a growl that was probably meant to be menacing and not devastatingly sexy.

“That was you again?! Are you kidding me?!”

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Deadpool backed away from the advancing hero, palms up. “Me again? Hey, I’m not the one who turned off all the alarms here, Spidey!” he protested.

“I’m still blaming you,” Peter retorted. “I was just here to follow up on leads associated with my fr — with the Green Goblin, who is my responsibility. Recon only. Temporarily disabling those alarms while a super was actively in the building, doing their job, should have canceled each other out at worst. Only you could screw things up that bad for me.” Peter sighed in frustration, pressing the heel of one hand to his temple. The low buzz of his Spidey-Sense while in such proximity to the unpredictable killer was already making his hair stand up and the back of his neck itch. He knew he’d end up with a killer headache from it before the end of the night.

It was too early in the evening for this much Parker Luck. The mercenary had caused all this damage, but Peter had been the one who allowed him the opportunity. Spider-Man would be the one who would get blamed if it came out that he had been in the Oscorp building at the same time. To be honest, Peter was already blaming himself.

Deadpool pouted dramatically under his hyper-expressive mask, crossing his arms and slouching back against the blood-spattered wall. Peter bit his lip under the spandex mask. He flicked his gaze toward the fried CCTV switches to his right, then glancing back over his shoulder. The bank of computers he had trawled for data and summarily thrashed when Deadpool started running his mouth was emitting a high-pitched whine as the few fans still functioning attempted to cool the busted CPUs. He’d gotten everything he could out of that, and the small amount he’d parsed while collecting the data had been alarming. His work wasn’t done, and now he had a burly, sulking killer to manage as well on top of everything else.

“You wanna help me out here, big guy? Okay, look. I think I know what Oscorp has been doing to these people based on the stuff I just trashed, but I can’t get them all out of here on my own. You want to fix this? Help me protect them and get them somewhere safe. If they’ve been experimented on as extensively as it seems, I think I know who can help them and keep them away from both Oscorp and SHIELD. I need to find the server room and wipe any back-ups Oscorp might have of the data before I can join you.” The merc flinched minutely when Peter first spoke, but as he continued, the larger man began to perk up considerably.

“Don’t worry about that, baby boy! I got you covered.” He pulled several USB drives from one of his pouches and waved them around. “I’m working, remember? Well, I was working until I found this, at least. Point is, I already made those IT nerds copy over every back-up they had of everything that looked even remotely related to this project onto these, then wrecked their servers just to be safe. I mean seriously, let’s just say everything in that room is one big solid-state drive now.”

“I’m sorry, did you say you got this for a job? Wow, I didn’t think even you’d stoop low enough to work for people stealing data on each others’ human lab rats. Can’t expect someone who used to take a paycheck from the Kingpin to have a royal standard, I guess.” Peter was more disappointed than he had any right to be, all things considered. He always seemed to find himself bouncing between amusem*nt and disappointment when he was working in proximity to Deadpool  —  with a healthy dose of fear thrown in after he’d been on the wrong end of a katana more than once. Something in him kept wanting to offer the mercenary more chances than he deserved by any rights, but this was going too far.

“Whoa there, webhead. Do you even listen? I just said I’m off the clock,” the mercenary shot back in a hard voice. “I know we haven’t unlocked the tragic backstory level of our relationship yet, but you should’ve picked up by now that I don’t f*ck with human experimentation. Just because we can’t all be as perfect as you doesn’t mean I can’t have standards. Now do you want my help, or are you going to keep being a jerk?”

If Peter didn’t know better than to think Deadpool cared what anyone thought of him, he would have supposed the merc was almost offended at his assumptions. After a moment, he nodded reluctantly. He reached his hand out for the drives Deadpool had been waving around a moment ago.

“Give me those,” he ordered. “I’ll take them with me to whoever I can get to help these folks. Let me make a couple of calls so they’re ready for us. Don’t say anything, or they might not want to help. You should probably get your stupid sword, by the way.” He waggled his fingers impatiently until the drives were handed over, then turned to handle the pinned and webbed security guard that was somehow still conscious before making the call.

“Lights out, pal,” he chimed, not entirely unkindly. He clocked the guard lightly on the temple and turned away again, dropping his voice to keep Deadpool out of the conversation as he called the Baxter Building from his suit HUD. Surprisingly, Ben Grimm answered.

“Peter? Vos hertz zich, shpin-tattele?” He asked, voice pitched in alarm. What’s up, spider-kiddo?

Peter winced reflexively at the casual use of his real name and the dumb nickname when he was calling from Spider-Man’s number. Then again, he wasn’t in the habit of calling the Four in the middle of the night, no matter how chummy they might be outside patrol hours. He could forgive both when faced with Grimm’s worried tone and a language that had died in Peter’s home with his own Ben; the guy was such a caregiver at heart, and Peter was even younger than Johnny.

“Heya, Ben. Nit azoy ay-ay-ay,” he stumbled through the response with a rueful laugh. Not that great. “Didn’t mean to worry ya. I might just need your help with something. Is Reed or Sue there?”

“They’re probably both asleep. What do you need?” The familial softness was gone from Ben’s voice, replaced with the flat focus of a Fantastic Four team member. No patience for humoring Peter’s Yiddish practice if there was work to be done.

“Well, turns out I’m kind of in the middle of a surprise rescue op — ”

“Where are you? We can be there in — ” The Thing cut in.

“No, no, it’s all good, man,” Peter rushed to explain. “I’ve got that part handled. I’m just gonna have some people who need somewhere to stay while they recover, and they’re probably going to need medical attention. Some kind of weird experimental stuff. Looked a little too much like what Gobby Senior was working on for comfort. It’s probably mostly going to be in Sue’s field of expertise, honestly. Could probably use a pick-up, though, if my favorite hotshot pilot is up for it and has, like, a getaway vehicle cleverly disguised as a catering van or something handy. You think that’d be okay?”

The Thing laughed a little. “Yeah, of course, Spidey. We’ll take care of it. Send me your coordinates and an ETA, and I’ll be there. You sure you’re good? You got support on hand?” Grimm’s concern leaked back in, but at least he wouldn’t be mother-henning all over Spider-Man for the rest of the night while he waited for the go-ahead. Peter was sure he’d get more probing questions from Sue and Johnny, who were privy to the finer details of his relationship with the Osborns purely by circ*mstance, once he finally got to the Baxter Building.

“Yup, I’m, uh…” he trailed off momentarily, watching Deadpool try to yank his katana out of the wall with both hands before apparently getting into an argument with himself, hands flailing as he whispered loudly. “I got it covered. See you soon.” He tucked the phone away.

Wordlessly, he walked over to where Deadpool was still gesticulating wildly, pulled the blade free with one hand, and webbed over the sluggishly bleeding wound on the pale security guard with the other.

“Here,” Peter said, tossing the sword toward the mutant, perhaps a little carelessly. If Deadpool didn’t catch it and it stabbed him in the foot, he’d heal, and maybe it would teach him to pay attention. “I’m pretty sure we’ve, uh, taken care of most of the security on this level — ” he avoided looking at any of the bodies or at the horrifying amount of gore he’d thankfully still managed to avoid stepping in “ — but there are still a couple of, and I hate to sully such a noble profession by using the title, scientists in one of the medical labs that we’ll have to handle. There are probably a few other people floating around as well. There should be some stairs or an elevator we can get everyone into, and I can make sure that we keep things unlocked until we can get everyone outside.”

“What about after that?” the imposing mercenary asked as he wiped his weapons clean and re-sheathed them.

“I’ve got it covered. Let’s go,” Peter instructed. “And Deadpool? No more deaths on my watch. I’ll drag you out of this city in pieces myself if I have to,” he warned with a waving finger, though he was careful to keep his body language mostly neutral and not letting his Alpha instincts turn his posture into an assumption of dominance or aggressive challenge. Not the time to start a fight, especially under circ*mstances that meant he’d be hard-pressed to get away, much less win.

“Ooh, feisty! We likey!” Deadpool crowed, shooting finger guns at the webslinger. It did not escape Peter’s notice that he avoided responding to the potential threat in either words or body language. The mercenary followed Peter out of the control room, past the smaller room filled with the smoking wreckage of machinery the hero had already destroyed, and back into the level’s main hallway, leaving a trail of bloody bootprints behind. Spider-Man, of course, left no such trail as he hurried forward along the wall in unusual, tense silence, intently listening to the sounds of human activity and following the vague outlines of the floor layout that his suit’s sensors had been able to put together.

“How do you even know where we’re going?” Deadpool finally asked, once Peter’s wall crawl slowed to, well, a crawl and he held out a hand for the mercenary to hold up as well. He tapped the lens of his mask.

“Enhanced senses bordering on precognition. Extremely good tech courtesy of my gal in the chair. Bitten by a radioactive Daredevil. Pick one,” Peter responded evasively with a quiet chuckle. “I want you to keep going down this hallway. At least half a dozen people are being held around that corner, maybe more, probably all imprisoned in separate cells, unless they’re keeping some of the cells empty. I didn’t see anyone in the hallway or the exam rooms on the closed-circuit surveillance, so I’m assuming that whoever is here will be in the cells or the offices. Keep your eyes sharp, though. I’m going back down to the end of the main corridor and handling the doctors and any other staff who are still down here. ”

“And why do you think you get to be the one to do that?” The mercenary sounded completely cold for the first time, tone all murderous business. The low buzz of Spidey-Sense suddenly kicked up a notch, making Peter a shade warier as he answered carefully.

“Because you’ll just kill them, and we both know I can’t allow that to happen. Plus, they might know more that I’ll need to share with Sue — Doctor Storm — when we bring these people to her for help.”

“Can’t believe he’s on a first-name basis with those nerds, and I can’t even get a single crossover issue,” Deadpool griped in an undertone, then turned back to Peter. “What if I pinkie-swear not to k-word anyone until after you ask questions?”

“Absolutely not! What is wrong with you?”

“How much time you got, sweets?” Deadpool laughed sharply. The Spidey-Sense ratcheted up another notch.

“I thought you wanted to help me. Can you please just do what I asked? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can part ways, and I can get back to my patrol while you get back to whatever it is you do when you’re not earning your blood money,” Peter coaxed.

“Yeeaaahhh, about that… Sorry, Spidey!”

Peter’s senses blared in sudden alarm as three blades flew in his direction and the red-and-black-clad mutant bolted down the corridor — away from the hallway with the holding cells and toward the offices Peter had just pointed out.

“Oh crackerjack!” Peter cried, dodging the knives and letting them clatter to the ground harmlessly. He crept along the walls and floor in pursuit of the merc. The other man barely had a head start on him, and whatever mutations he had beyond his well-known healing factor were no match for Peter’s enhanced speed and agility in a straight-up chase, even if he kept off the floor and couldn’t websling. Before Deadpool could barge into any of the entrances to the medical offices, Peter webbed them all shut and began to scramble well back down the wall of the corridor for his own safety. Deadpool rounded on him with a feral, wide-eyed grin that was visible even through his mask.

“That was stupid, Webs. Even you’re not pretty enough to get in my way when I’m dealing with those Weapon X-wannabe pieces of crap.”

“Whoa, hey, ‘Pool!” Peter blurted frantically, still scrambling backward. “I told you, I might need information from those sorry excuses for Geneva Convention violations to help all those patients you promised to help me rescue, remember? Don’t you think maybe that’s more important?”

Deadpool paused mid-step, seeming to actually contemplate Peter’s words. His head jerked up and to the left for a moment. Peter kept his distance, just in case.

“Stop being reasonable and agreeing with him, asshole.” He redirected his focus to Peter. “Fine. You, personally, are off the hook just this once. I agree that getting these people out is more important, but I’m not making any promises about what happens to these chucklef*cks later. Better hope you’re not in my way then.”

“Well, we can worry about how I’m going to protect the city from you later, then,” Peter quipped, voice more lighthearted than he felt. He continued his crawling retreat down the wall of the hallway, back to the sounds of captive humans. He could focus on whether or not Deadpool was a threat to his person after he got all of these people somewhere safe.

The hero and the mercenary made their way back down the hall in wary silence. They didn’t encounter any other guards or lab technicians. Peter wasn’t sure if this was lucky, or simply because Deadpool had already turned half the labs into body-strewn wreckage before he’d been intercepted.

At least this way Peter didn’t need to try to stop the man from “k-wording” anyone else in front of him while also trying to pull off a rescue and figure out everything he could about just what the hell Oscorp was up to. He already had the feeling he would be up for the next couple of nights on long patrols, trying to make himself believe that he could somehow make up for the havoc he’d allowed Deadpool to wreak inside the building.

Rounding the corner, the pair finally reached the secure entry to the holding area. Peter could hear movement and low voices beyond, and as they approached, he could see through the security glass in the door that although the central floor was brightly lit, the outer edges of the space were darkened. The actual entrance was, unsurprisingly, locked.

“Ugh, great, more biometric crap? Lemme go scoop some more eyeballs,” Deadpool sighed, turning on his heel.

“At the risk of sounding like a broken record, what is wrong with you?” Peter asked, somehow reaching new heights of appalled with the mutant once again. “Please just let me handle this. Keep watch.” He didn’t bother to add that he would probably sense that there was danger before Deadpool spotted anything as pulled his Spider-Phone (not that he ever called the half-rebuilt StarkPhone he used just for Spider-Man business by the nickname out loud, considering the grief he’d gotten over “Spidey-Sense.”) out of its pocket in his discreet utility belt along with a micro-USB cable, leaving the extra web cartridges and the regular old Android belonging to regular old Peter Parker undisturbed in the neighboring slots.

After connecting the phone to the electronic lock and a few minutes of patient fiddling, a gratifying chirp emitted not only from the secure entry point just in front of him but from what sounded like every door in the holding cell section. Excellent. That would certainly make the next step far less startling for the people inside. Probably a good time to update Grimm on their progress too, so Peter keyed in a quick message from his wrist after slipping the jailbroken StarkPhone back into his belt. He rose gracefully from his comfortable crouch and opened the door with a flourishing bow.

“Absolute degenerates first,” he declared with over-the-top politeness as he gestured forward.

“Oh sweetums, you do pay attention to me!” Deadpool trilled, hands clasped together in a mockery of joy. He curtsied dramatically, then swept past Peter into the common room of the holding area with an impressive flounce.

Peter almost slammed into him when the man stopped short, completely frozen, just a few into the space, saved only by his enhanced reflexes. He didn’t understand why Deadpool had paused at first, as his Spidey-Sense had maintained its same low level of uneasy warning that it usually kept up around the unpredictably violent man.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

The smell of antiseptic and some underlying bitter, yet still disturbingly, organically human scent had suddenly gotten much stronger, and none of the newly unlocked cell doors had yet been touched. Looking around the clinical space, Peter recalled the mutant’s earlier anger as well as his own limited understanding of Weapon X from working with Wolverine in the past and thought perhaps he understood.

Slowly, delicately, Peter inched away from Deadpool, giving him space, then moved toward the first unlocked door on the left side of the room. He positioned himself between the still-unmoving ex-soldier and whoever might be imprisoned in the medical cell, trying to keep the man in his peripheral vision through the security glass as he opened the door. Peter cleared his throat loudly before speaking. As he did, Deadpool seemed to come back to himself a little.

“Hi there,” he offered gently, peering into the darkened cell. There was a twin-sized metal bed frame up against two of the three plain, concrete-block walls. The first one was empty, but there were two forms huddled on the second. The Omega men — he thought they were Omegas, at least — that peered at him cautiously from behind scratchy hospital sheets reeked of dried sweat and adrenaline.

Peter was a little ill and practically exhausted just smelling the traces of their fear and resigned helplessness through his mask filter. He swung the door the rest of the way open, letting light bathe tiny space as Deadpool finally started to move, opening cell doors on the right side of the room. “We’re here to help. Do you want to come out?”

“Wait, are you really — “ one of the men began.

“Spider-Man?!” shrieked a disbelieving voice from the other side of the room. Peter jerked around.

“Sorry to disappoint, lady. But if you want to come out, the webbed wonder himself is over there,” Deadpool responded to the voice, jerking his thumb back toward Peter.

“Honestly, we don’t even look that similar, I don’t know what gives,” he added in that odd, unfocused way he’d exhibited several times. His comment seemed to work nonetheless, as a middle-aged Asian woman slipped hesitantly out of the cell the merc had just opened, closely followed by her cellmate. Peter pegged her and the stocky, dark-haired girl who clutched the hem of her shirt as Betas as they got closer.

“Wow, it really is you. My kiddo and their boyfriend got mugged once, a few years ago, near the south edge of Forest Hills. You saved them. And now you’re here for us,” the woman babbled. If she hadn’t been a Beta, the mess of cortisol, adrenaline, and sudden dump of endorphins she was experiencing might have been intense enough to make Peter a little sick, even through his mask filter. He wished he had changed it out for a fresh one before his patrol after all. Both of them were giving off pretty intense scent markers for Betas, even given their current state.

Come to think of it, the Omegas had smelled pretty off too. Peter was suddenly concerned that Oscorp’s experiments had gotten further along than he’d feared. That was, of course, exactly the moment the Beta woman wobbled dangerously and almost dropped to the ground. He caught her easily, carefully setting her at the edge of the nearest steel-topped counter and backing away with his palms up when her eyes went wide in renewed fear.

“We’re here to help,” Peter repeated, holding off on his trademark witty banter in the face of more pressing concerns. The men whose door he’d first opened finally skulked out of their shadowed cell and into the lighted common area, still wrapped in their blankets. They moved to stand near the women, and the curly-haired guy who had begun to ask Peter a question earlier started speaking with her in a low, vaguely reassuring tone.

Peter went back to opening cell doors and trying to coax patients out of the darkens. Surprisingly, Deadpool was somehow having an easier time of it, despite the weapons strapped all over his body and the scorch marks on his suit. Finally, all fourteen cells were open and the prisoners coaxed out. Two of the cells had been empty.

Peter surveyed the twenty-three people huddled together in their ill-fitting scrubs, faces sickly and shadowed with exhaustion and illness. He approached one of the last people to leave her room, the only one without a cellmate. The woman, who he was struggling to pin the dynamic of by scent even though his scent filter was quickly becoming overwhelmed in the small space filled with stress pheromones, turned toward him. She squared her shoulders in what was meant to be a display of confidence, though it was betrayed by her wide eyes and clenched fists.

“How long has it been since they took the other girl from your room?” he asked her quietly. She seemed surprised at the question, like she didn’t think the hero would have noticed the odd numbers or the rumpled, unchanged sheets on the second bed, and paused like she was considering something before answering.

“We don’t… I think just a couple of days?” she responded, wrapping a few of her locs around her fingers anxiously. She shuffled closer, seeming unwilling to let the others overhear. “It’s hard to keep track of days and stuff, sometimes. Marie tried to hide that she started to get sick as the others had. She started forgetting where we were, couldn’t keep food down after a while, stuff like that. Once she started to smell like an Alpha, I thought she would get better because she was getting what she needed, but… she got so mad, I don’t even remember what it was about, and then she just dropped.” The woman paled further beneath her dark complexion. “Her nose was bleeding and she started puking, and then a bunch of those guards rushed in with one of the doctors and took her away.”

“That’s what happened with the others, too,” interjected a young, red-haired Beta man. “I was with one of them before he got sick and they moved me in with Jared. His cellmate got sick from the dose the first week they stopped letting us go home after treatment.” Peter and Deadpool both jerked around at that.

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘go home?’ Did he say ‘go home?’” Deadpool asked disbelievingly. Peter wasn’t sure if that was directed at himself, the patients, or whatever imaginary friend it was Deadpool was normally ranting at. Some of the patients that had been gathered around him started to back away. The woman Peter had been talking with spoke up again, rather bravely in the hero’s opinion.

“We volunteered, at least at first. Marie said she just never felt like a Beta, and it was hard for her to get people to take that seriously. I know being an Omega isn’t supposed to be that big of a deal anymore, especially with mandatory heat-leave and birth control and childcare and stuff. It’s not like before they passed the ERA in the 90s, but it still sucks for a lot of people. I just wanted the chance to not have to worry about that. The compensation was pretty decent, too, which sure helped. Then people started getting sick and acting weird, and the doctors picked us off one by one at our appointments on one of the upper floors and smuggled us down here while we were messed up on the treatment. I think we started with thirty people,” she explained.

Peter felt ill, and he knew he was pale under his mask. It was Norman’s work all over again. The early symptoms even sounded the same. This also explained why there hadn’t been anyone in the group who smelled definitively like an Alpha. He tried to keep his voice even and confident.

“All right, miss, thank you for telling us. Deadpool, stand down,” he said, holding out a hand toward the merc, who still looked ready to punch something. “We’re going to get all of you out of here. I have friends who can help.” Most of the prisoners seemed to relax just slightly at the idea that they would be rescued, the cortisol-laced cloud of fear lifting the tiniest bit. Peter started to key in another brief, coded message to the Four, updating them on the number of people they’d be cramming into whatever transportation they’d be able to bring him. With this many, discretion might be more challenging, but he had faith in Ben.

“Why should we trust the bug, huh? I’ve always had my suspicions based on what the Bugle says, and then he just happens to show up with another masked maniac, and he just so happens to have friends that can ‘help’ us? Who’s to say they’re not just looking to learn what they can from our bloodwork and finish up the experiment themselves. Hell, what if they’re just dumping us at Mount Sinai’s emergency room and hoping for the best?” a gray-haired man asked from the back of the group. Peter took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, even when the man’s words started to resound with a few of the other people. It wouldn’t be the first time someone he was rescuing was afraid to accept his help.

The others erupted in a clamor before the gray-haired man had finished ranting. From what Peter could gather, half of them didn’t seem to care one way or the other about the argument and just wanted the chance to get out; about a third were, surprisingly, defending him; and the few remaining were freaked out enough by the man’s words to be unsure if they should even risk leaving. Peter knew that they couldn’t risk leaving any of them behind, but he didn’t want to have to web and carry any of the already-traumatized patients, not least because it wouldn’t exactly help his case.

“Plus, I bet he’s already an Alpha. Of course he doesn’t understand why we’re here. Is he really going to help?” the gray-haired man added suspiciously.

“What?! That doesn’t make any sense, and it’s so dynamicist! I go to rallies! I donate to Planned Parenthood!” Peter cried out indignantly. “I don’t get paid to swing around saving people all night, y’know. What if I started making wild accusations based on what I assume someone’s gender or dynamic is just by looking at them, huh? You can’t even smell me, for crying out loud!” Deadpool started giggling as his outburst wound down.

“Okay, okay, Spidey here’s a nice Beta vigilante you can bring home to Mom, who just wants to help the good people of New York. I, on the other hand, am a little pressed for time, which by the way I get paid for because some of us have standards, so I would love it if we could get a f*cking move on here people,” Deadpool said, his voice hardening as he went on, once he had gotten his laughter under control, and one hand hovering suspiciously near his thigh holster.

“What, your drop got a midnight deadline or you’ll turn into a pumpkin?” Peter snarked, his mood significantly calmed by the broad-shouldered mutant’s mirth. Nonetheless, he didn’t bother correcting Deadpool on his dynamic. He’d take any advantage when it came to hiding Spider-Man’s civilian identity. If the mouthy mercenary went around blabbing that he was a Beta, that would be one less factor pointing toward the dorky, quiet Alpha guy really under the mask.

In response to Peter’s joke, Deadpool yanked his mask and suit apart for a moment, flashing a swathe of pockmarked, scarred, and chafed skin across his neck and jaw. “Not exactly,” he replied through a forced grin and bared teeth. The smell of an Omega dangerously close to heat washed over Peter as if he wasn’t even breathing through a scent filter. His knees locked and his jaw stiffened minutely in response as he took a moment to recover adequately from the flash of nauseating panic that had washed over him before he gave a jerking nod in response. At least that dramatic display coupled with the mercenary’s speech seemed to mollify, or at the very least cow, everyone else in the room into compliance.

“Great. Let’s go.” The larger man stalked forward, arms spread to herd everyone out ahead of him. His shoulders tensed as Peter approached him from behind. The hero moved into the Omega’s peripheral vision while maintaining the same neutral, non-threatening posture he had adopted when the pair had first started speaking to the patients. The hero spoke quickly to the group as they made their way to the security gate.

“There’s a freight elevator down the hall connecting to the medical labs and exam rooms. It goes up to the street-level parking garage, where the loading docks are. Ben Grimm, and probably one of the other members of the Four, will meet us there,” he explained. He turned his attention back to Deadpool, who had thankfully refitted the pieces of his suit seamlessly. “Deadpool, will you take point so I can keep everyone together?”

“Do I gotta?” the merc whined.

“Let’s just get all these people out of here to safety before I have an anxiety attack and puke everywhere, not necessarily in that order, because it’s seriously making me ill and driving me a little crazy,” he leaned in and said under his breath to the mercenary, quiet enough that none of the patients would hear.

“What is?” Deadpool co*cked his head at him.

“Smell. No offense. Just everyone at once… it’s a lot,” Peter clarified curtly as he pressed the bridge of his nose between his gloved fingers. Deadpool bounced back on his heels, surreptitiously tugging the edges of his mask down.

“Spidey, I think I should watch our six. You’ll be able to tell if there’s anyone ahead of us, and you know the layout of the space better. I just want to get out of here already,” he replied quickly, drawing one katana and moving toward the back of the group. Peter sighed and nodded in acquiescence.

He led the shuffling string of blanket-wrapped, scrubs-clad prisoners out into the corridor as quietly as he could, senses on even higher alert than usual due to his fraying nerves. He desperately wanted to go home, shower, and change his suit, or at least hit up a drop spot to swap his mask and reapply scent blockers.

Between the pair, the group was herded the few hundred yards to the freight elevator fairly quickly. Peter updated the Four with what he hoped would be an accurate ETA, so long as they didn’t run into major trouble. Deadpool scurried into the elevator several seconds after the last rescued prisoner limped tiredly in and flipped the switch to the loading dock level. Peter didn’t bother to look up, immersed in his Spider-Phone (Spider-Phone™ even, Deadpool might appreciate that one even if no one else would) and the task of scrambling the wireless portions of the building’s security system. He tried to remember if there was anywhere in the parking garage level he’d be able to hook up to a computer and at the very least wipe exterior security camera footage to protect the Four from having the break-in traced back to them — well, Deadpool’s involvement being traced to them, at the very least.

“Wow, this would have been way easier than my method. Clearly, I should have tried to get more info out of my client beforehand. Do you know how many flights of stairs I had to walk down? It’s bullsh*t, man. I don’t need to do that much cardio. How do you do it, Webs?” Deadpool chattered. For some reason, the man seemed almost nervous. Peter looked at him oddly out of the corner of his eye, although he doubted the merc would be able to tell through the lenses of his mask.

“I just climbed in the service elevator access panel on the roof and pretty much climbed straight down. I can do that,” he replied, waggling the fingers of one hand in a helpful reminder. Deadpool nodded thoughtfully.

“I f*ckin’ hate you sometimes, pretty boy.”

One of the Omegas hunched against the elevator wall behind Peter snorted loudly at that, although their mirth seemed to exhaust them and they sagged further against the wall. A sudden shiver went down Peter’s neck. Just then, a rumbling noise came from beneath them and the rising elevator shook a little. The middle-aged woman who had mistaken Deadpool for Spider-Man screamed. Peter rounded on Deadpool suspiciously.

“What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?” the mutant protested. The lenses of Peter’s mask narrowed as he stared him down.

“Because it’s literally always you if you are anywhere in the vicinity. It’s been you like three times in the past two hours!”

“Fine, fine!” Deadpool threw his hands up. “Told you I was going to get those f*ckers, and you weren’t gonna stop me for long.” Peter leaned heavily against the wall. He’d just webbed those doors shut without a thought. He’d trapped those people down there for Deadpool.

The elevator shook once more and ground to a bouncing halt. There were a few more screams as people stumbled into one another and clung together. Peter used his mask LiDAR to check, and — 

“Great, we’re stuck between floors,” he hissed, glaring pointedly, though he was sure the expression didn’t translate. He inspected further. “At least we’re almost on the right floor.” The webslinger directed his attention toward everyone else and tried to keep his tone light. “It’s all right, everyone. I’m going to shut down the cameras on this level, and then come back for you. He,” here he jerked his head toward Deadpool, “is going to wait here with you and keep watch until I do. You’re going to be fine.”

Peter wrenched open the doors with ease, then shot webs from the inside of the doors to the yellow safety pylons around the freight elevator platform. If something went wrong or Deadpool did some other stupid thing, a pair of high and correlated probabilities, at least this way the car would stay open and suspended long enough to get everyone out.

“Wait here,” he reminded the pitiful-looking group before webbing up to one of the I-beams crossing the parking garage’s ceiling. He took a moment to orient himself before locating the security booth. This was a pitifully low-grade set-up compared to the sub-basem*nt levels. He barely had time to let Ben know to pull up to the loading dock before his script had bashed all the terminal’s simple security codes.

“Hashed passwords, more like hash browns” he muttered. It had been a long day before he’d even started patrol, and usually, he would have stopped to eat something by then, all right? Besides, if he used up all the lame quips while he was alone, he’d be wittier when it counted. Or something.

From there, it was short work to wipe the last hour of recording, just to be safe, and prevent the cameras from recording for the rest of the night. He couldn’t shut them off remotely though, which turned out not to be a bad thing.

“Oh shoot!” he hissed as several security guards exited the different stairwells around the garage. “Don’t shoot!” he cried loudly toward the nearest one, swinging toward the woman and webbing first her gun, then her to the wall. He hoped that was enough to distract some of the other guards in his direction and away from the freight elevator while Deadpool got people out and toward the loading dock.

Sure enough, he heard a radio crackle as three more guards converged on his location crouched on a beam not far from the webbed-up woman.“Sorry folks, I’m sure you’re just doing your job, and I’m just doing mine. There’s a key difference there though: I just took out this supervillain, and you’re getting paid to protect his stuff.” He leaped from the beam onto a concrete pillar, then up to the ceiling in the opposite direction from the elevator as he spoke, dodging shots all the while from the first three guards to arrive, while the last two to arrive busied themselves trying to unstick the first guard from his webs.

“What a tangled web, am I right?” he laughed. It was another lame joke, but it didn’t need to be good to keep them annoyed enough to be a little stupid. All right, maybe his theory about getting out all the lame quips ahead of time needed some work.

From the safety mirror in the corner, he caught sight of Deadpool pulling the last few people out of the elevator and ushering them up the ramp. All right, great. Now, where was Grimm?

Peter dodged another bullet reflexively as he heard tires screech up to the loading dock. Perfect. “I’ve had a lovely visit overall, but I just have a thing about guns, y’know?” he asked rhetorically. No returning banter; Spider-Man was wasted on some goons. He sighed, then expertly shot sticky bundles of webbing at each weapon, clogging them and immobilizing the shooters’ trigger fingers in one go. “You should think about finding a new job. I’m sure you’re not bad people.” He webbed them to the wall as the vehicle drove away.

Now that he was alone and didn’t have to worry about watching all the rescued patients, Peter took the time to review the cameras at the garage’s terminal one more time, taking care to avoid the line-of-sight of the webbed-up guards so they couldn’t report on just what he’d been doing, and delving further into the actual Oscorp security system. Sure enough, Deadpool had just waltzed into the building earlier in the day, then skulked around until after hours. He’d started working his way down to the medical lab around the same time Peter had entered the building.

Still, the mutant had helped with the rescue op, and he was the one who had recovered all the data and gotten the back-ups wiped in the first place. Keeping that data out of Oscorp’s hands was unquestionably a good thing. Stomach still feeling queasy about the whole thing, Peter wiped the earlier footage as well, including the limited footage that had managed to capture Deadpool before he seemed to realize that the alarms were disengaged. It probably wouldn’t take too long to figure out that the mercenary had been in the building, but hopefully it would get chalked up purely to corporate espionage. Finally, he reset the building’s alarm system.

He made a running jump onto the ceiling and skittered out into the adjoining boulevard, leaping into the air and swinging across the street to perch on top of a streetlight for long enough to call the Four before he started making his way toward the Baxter Building. Ben answered the phone again. Peter could hear other people in the background.

“Hey P — Spider-Man,” he greeted. “Sounds like you made it out all right. You on your way here?”

“Yeah, just had a couple of bugs to take care of first, but I’ll swing by now,” Peter said with a grin, relaxing into the rhythm as he webbed through the city. Grimm groaned at the lame pun.

“I can almost see why you thought the so-called ‘Merc with the Mouth’ counted as appropriate back-up. He won’t shut up about you, tattele,” Ben complained. Peter wobbled a little through the follow-up of his next jump in surprise.

“He’s still there?” he questioned. He hadn’t thought Deadpool would have wanted to delay the completion of his job enough to help transport the rescued people, much less enter the Fantastic Four’s headquarters, especially after smelling how close to a heat the man was. “I’ll be right over.”

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Peter landed lightly against one of the Baxter Building’s large windows several minutes later, a little out of breath from his hurried swing over to the skyscraper. The window automatically unlocked and tipped inward once the security system recognized him. He released his grip on the glass to slide forward into a graceful crouch in the atrium between Reed’s lab and Sue’s, landing at the feet of the latter scientist.

“Hiya, Doctor Storm,” he greeted Sue with a tight hug. His eyes bounced around the dimly lit space, searching for Deadpool, who he assumed was still nearby based on the way the tiny hairs on his body stood on end and the base of his skull had started tingling as soon as he was within view of the atrium’s windows. “Thanks for helping. And thank you for coming down to meet us in the middle of the night. Where is everyone?”

“Hey, Webs,” the Beta woman replied, smiling warmly. “Johnny and Reed are clearing out the two meeting rooms downstairs for temporary housing for our guests, and Ben is helping them settle in the kitchen to eat and talk about what to expect. I thought maybe I’d let them rest before I ask if any of them are willing to come to the lab. That will give me the chance to make some sense of the data you recovered first.”

“Technically, that was Deadpool,” Peter reminded her charitably. He still hadn’t spotted the mercenary despite his Spidey-Sense buzzing erratically as his conversation with Sue continued.

“True. Not that it would have been much help to these folks if you hadn’t also been there. So, do you really think that it’s the same serum that Nor — ”

“Definitely created working off the Green Goblin’s formulas, yes,” Peter agreed hastily. The civilian identities of both Green Goblins had remained a secret despite their public feud with Spider-Man and resulting casualties and massive property damage. Most people hadn’t even realized that there had been more than one Goblin, even in the powered community. Peter wanted to keep it that way in case Harry was ever rehabilitated. Perhaps he might not have been quite so worried if it had just been Norman, but Harry was still his best friend. Not to mention, Peter didn’t want someone like Deadpool to have that kind of information on hand in case it suddenly became just a little too temptingly valuable.

Luckily, Sue seemed to realize his motivations and didn’t draw further attention to the Goblin, choosing instead to quiz him on what he’d seen of the actual biochemistry and medical technology involved in the retrieved data and discuss potential solutions. Peter followed her into her research lab, as always appreciating the airy, well-curated space with its mix of bleeding-edge medical and laboratory equipment with Sue’s fondness for retaining old-school materials like chalkboards and a skeleton that Johnny had sworn up and down that she’d heisted out of her anatomy class in med school.

Also as always, he found himself thinking about how much Gwen would have loved Doctor Storm’s lab, and how much more she might have liked it there than the Oscorp R&D department if she’d interned in if she’d had the chance to see it. She and Sue would have been able to challenge and balance each other perfectly as researchers, and they would have loved each other. Peter would have happily traded in his studies in mechanical engineering and biochemistry for theoretical physics and astronomy to work with Doctor Richards if it meant he could have shared that with Gwen. He should have introduced her when he had the chance. Maybe she would have left Oscorp before Norman had gotten out of control. If she had been working closely with one of the Four, it would have been that much harder for the Goblin to get his claws on her in the first place. Just more ways that Peter had failed her.

He realized that he had stopped in the middle of the laboratory, not even halfway to the computer station Sue was tapping away at, in the process of trying to decrypt the drives he’d provided her as she waited for him to catch up.

He’d also finally located Deadpool. The merc apparently had no interest coming anywhere near anything even tangentially medical-looking if he didn’t have to. He was simply looming in the doorway to the research lab, his mask a blank stare tracking between the two people in the room. He was kind of a creep. At least Peter wasn’t catching any of the man’s pre-heat scent anymore, although it was impressive that he continued to keep what passed for composure in the sometimes-vigilante considering how close to the edge he’d smelled earlier that evening. Peter’s stomach roiled just thinking about it.

He mentally shook himself and quickstepped to catch up with Doctor Storm. “You back with me, Webs?” she asked with a laugh and a slightly creased brow, rubbing his shoulder gently. This was part of why Peter didn’t end up working with the Fantastic Four that often. They were all far too happy to attach themselves to him and try to share the emotional burden because that was just the kind of people they were. It was sweet, and the support could be nice when he was out of his depth when it came to sheer resource access (not to mention infinitely better than ever having to talk to Tony Stark about anything literally ever, much less outright asking the Avengers for access to their resources). Still, Peter was more of a “bury his problems deep away from the light of day and then take them out by backflipping and spin-kicking dudes in back alleys at night” kind of guy.

“Yup, peachy keen!” he chirped in reply, giving a thumbs up and a smile that he knew would be big enough to translate at least a little through his mask and widen his lenses enough to give him an innocent, disingenuous look. He was the one who perfected the expression-mimicking software driving them, after all. “Anyway, pretty sure Deadpool still has the drive with the actual decryption code. That one might cost us though, and it’s probably a little out of our budget range, if it’s something you’d even be comfortable purchasing, all things considered. I’m sure Johnny and I can brute-force it, but it might take a little longer. Give me a day or two.”

He kept his rigid back to the mercenary and winked at Sue, willing her to go along with his words. Based on the fact that not only had Deadpool gone through all the effort to come all the way back to the Baxter Building with the rescued patients but had, for some reason, waited for Spider-Man to return and was still standing there watching Sue and Peter banter about biochem, he was fairly certain that the merc didn’t plan on requesting payment for the decryption codes in the first place.

Nonetheless, Peter didn’t put it past him to take advantage of the opportunity for a cash grab if it did happen to arise. Not to mention (and not that he would admit it aloud) but he was still split between guilt and fury that he’d essentially helped Deadpool trap and murder people. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t done so purposefully. Still, even relatively petty insults to the value of his work were at least a minor form of payback against a man for whom physical harm healed too rapidly to bother and emotional harm had nowhere to find purchase.

“Ugh, here,” Deadpool interjected tersely with a noise of faint disgust and impatience as he pulled another thumb drive from one of his belt pouches and threw it at Peter. He caught the flying object easily without turning around and handed it to Sue, doing his best to keep the smugness from his posture. From the twitch of her lips and raised eyebrows, he didn’t do a very good job.

“Thank you, Wade,” she called out over Peter’s shoulder. Wait, Wade? All right, the Fantastic Four were on a first-name basis with the infamous, unkillable mercenary who had almost murdered Peter last winter for interfering with his “job.” No big deal. Sure.

“Oh! Um, no problem, Doctor Storm,” came the mutant’s startled reply. If Peter didn’t know him to be incapable of the feeling, he’d have said Deadpool sounded embarrassed.

“Do you have anything else useful that you can think of? Anything that might help me treat our new patients?” Sue asked Peter. He shook his head.

“No, I’ve given you everything that I have. I think our best lead is knowing that it came from the Goblin, but it’s got to be relatively new since I’ve been checking in regularly and this is the first I’m seeing of it. I’m more worried about what they were planning on using it for, considering Oscorp’s track record after Goblin Round Two,” he explained.

“All right,” she agreed. “I’ll let you know when I have something.”

“Thanks, Sue. Keep me updated on how the patients are doing too, yeah?”

“Of course. Will you be heading downstairs to see the boys?” Peter contemplated helping out with the work to make the visitors more at home. Several of the patients had seemed pretty uncomfortable with him though, and he’d probably end up distracting Johnny more than actually helping Ben and Reed. He also wanted to get Deadpool the hell away from powered folks he wanted to spend time with, as well as getting back out on the patrol he’d originally planned for the night.

“I should probably head back out, I think,” he said with a smile.

“Sounds like a plan, Spidey. Would you mind escorting our other visitor out as well?” Sue asked, nodding her head in Deadpool’s direction with a warm smile that seemed meant to downplay the implications of her request.

“Sure thing, Sue,” Peter agreed easily. She hugged him tightly once again and waved them away, already immersed in her research. She was probably grateful that Peter had other pressing matters preventing him from getting into mischief with her brother, which was what usually happened when the two college-aged Alpha boys were in a room together for more than a few minutes.

Peter prepared himself to skirt carefully around Deadpool as he left the lab, Spidey-Sense zinging up his spine the closer he got to the figure blocking the doorway. The merc turned and stalked out ahead of him wordlessly, then continued past the bank of windows in the moonlit atrium where Peter had first entered the building and toward the elevators at the center of the floor. Peter halted in the atrium, leaning with posed indifference against one of the potted trees.

“Hey, Deadpool,” he called down the hall, filled with a sudden burst of daring. If the Four knew him by name, there must be something about Deadpool that was at least useful enough to mitigate the damage he caused, if not outright redeemable. Plus, he had an idea for how he could get back at the Omega just a teensy bit for his duplicitous behavior back at the Oscorp lab. “Where are you going?”

“Thought you were showing me out so the Fantabulous Foursome didn’t have to keep dealing with me, Spider-Man,” the mercenary snarked in reply. Nonetheless, he turned around and made his way back toward Peter’s location.

“That I am,” he agreed with a forced perkiness that he hoped belayed his mild unease. He’d been in situations where he’d worked with the unpredictable mercenary before; knowing that he was an Omega in preheat should make him easier to handle, if anything. He toggled the hidden switch to open his preferred exit window and turned his back to the mutant. “Well, let’s go.”

The eyes of Deadpool’s mask went wide in the window’s mirrored reflection.

“Aaaiiieeee!” Deadpool screeched and whooped as he clung tightly to Peter’s back after a particularly showy swoop from one building to another. Peter grimaced at the noise in his ear but didn’t let that or the mutant’s not-insignificant weight alter his course as he swung from the Lower Manhattan high-rise southeast to one of his usual rooftop stops in Brownsville. People there tended to be a little happier to take a verbal dressing-down from the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man than the alternative of dealing with cops’ Alpha and Alpha-wannabe crap, and he figured that was as good a place as any to try to debrief Deadpool, considering how far removed it was from any affiliation with Oscorp Tower, the Baxter Building, or, most importantly, anywhere Peter Parker was affiliated with, like his own apartment in Rego Park, ESU, or, G-d forbid, May’s house in Forest Hills.

Touch-starved as he might have been, Peter also couldn’t enjoy the firmness and warmth of the body pressed against him as they moved, even with the other man quickly picking up on how to shift his bulk with Peter to make the transition between arcing swings as seamless as possible. Cold-blooded murderers and Omegas were both a big no-no as far as Spider-Man was concerned, even if the man graciously kept his heat-spiked scent well-concealed enough to almost allow Peter to forget the second one.

Deadpool finally quieted after the first several minutes of webslinging, while they were crossing the Manhattan Bridge. Peter avoided looking at the bridge to his right as the merc’s whooping cries were replaced by a consistent muttered commentary. Most of the words were whipped away in the wind, even from his enhanced hearing, but what he did understand sounded almost like Deadpool was having half a conversation again.

At last, the hero alighted on his target rooftop, managing to stick the landing without stumbling under the unbalanced additional weight. He detached the mutant’s arms from around himself with a small amount of applied force, prompting the taller man to take his own weight. Peter backed off several steps.

“So… you helped me out quite a bit there,” he began.

“Sure looks like it, baby boy!” chirped Deadpool.

“I wanted to, ah,” Peter started again, then cleared his throat awkwardly. “I wanted to thank you for that, and for staying with Ben and the people we rescued all the way back to the Baxter Building. I mean, you were also doing morally reprehensible work, committed unnecessary amounts of property damage, and implicated me in your violence. That part was terrible, and I still don’t like you. But I still appreciated the help a lot.”

“Did you just thank me? Did he just thank me? This is going in my limited edition Hello Kitty diary.” Deadpool waved his hands around excitedly. Peter rolled his eyes, glad that at least some of his expressions weren’t visible through the mask.

“Yes, I did. We’re not about to be best friends or anything, but we worked together better than I expected when there wasn’t a whole world-ending crisis and threats of disappointed looks from Cap forcing us to.”

“Yeah, gotta say, hanging out with The Thing tonight was way more fun than the time I lured you to Hoboken under false pretenses,” Deadpool agreed.

“I still can’t believe that a) you fell for that terrible info, and b) that I fell for your ploy,” Peter shot back, trying not to crack a smile even if Deadpool wouldn’t be able to see it beneath his mask. This was part of why he kept the mercenary at arm’s length.

The man was a self-admitted reprehensible murderer, and yet somehow Peter still found himself bantering and sneaking appreciative glances. He even almost enjoyed their team-ups, rare as they were. Still, despite regular complaints about him, SHIELD allowed the man to operate as a freelancer instead of throwing him in a dark cell underground somewhere. And anyway, more than one group of supers Peter worked with had teamed up with him, so he must have some redeeming qualities, right? It was the excuse Peter gave himself, at any rate.

“Hey, even the best still make mistakes sometimes. Anyway, if it weren’t for that and the time you so adorably decided to lecture me in the middle of a job, I might not have found you interesting enough to help, so there.”

“Why are you like this?”

“How much time ya got, hot stuff?” Deadpool repeated.

“Okay, forget I asked,” Peter sighed. “I just wanted to thank you and take us both out of Doctor Storm’s hair, and I’ve done that. You can get back to whatever it is you do when you’re here, and I have a city to patrol. Please don’t make me have to protect it from you while you’re here.”

“Psh, as if,” Deadpool scoffed. “Don’t get your spandex in a twist, pretty boy. I’m about to take a little vacation, remember?” He plucked at his sleeve, once again letting his previously well-contained pre-heat scent waft toward Peter, who once again tried to disguise his discomfort as he swallowed hard.

“Oh. Right, sorry. Well, after that, then. For however long you’ll be here,” Peter replied somewhat sheepishly.

“Yeah, sure thing,” Deadpool snorted. Peter was suddenly very ready to be done with this conversation and as far away from the Omega mercenary as possible.

“All right, well, thanks again, see you around,” he said in a rush, turning to shoot his webs at a building down the street.

“‘I’ll see you around,’ he says! I’m pretty sure this means we’re about to become best buds. Wait until my diary hears about this!” Deadpool cheered to the sky.

“Give it a rest, buddy,” he sniped at the merc before swinging off into the night, shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear his fatigue and scrambled thoughts. He still had a whole city full of people he was responsible for that he hadn’t had the chance to fail yet that night, after all. His discomfort took second place to their safety.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Wade was still stuck in a bit of a post-heat funk as he pulled a fresh mask over his head and finished gearing up. His last job had netted him a decent amount, even after paying for the motel room he’d been holed up in for the past week. The good karma he’d racked up with Spidey and the Four was a bonus as well, even if it wasn’t exactly the gold star that he’d been hoping to get from SHIELD.

『Oh, is that why we’re going back out? Is that why we’re staying in New York even though you don’t have a paying job right now? Hoping you’ll run into the webhead?』

“He said he’d see me around! That’s practically an engraved invitation!” Wade protested. “And anyway, who said I’m going out because of him. Maybe I just want some fresh air.”

「Because you always wear full tac gear for a stroll through Central Park.」

“I could if I wanted to! Shaddap,” he muttered defensively. The boxes laughed. Wade hated when they agreed on things.

He stomped out the door and down the stairs. By the time he reached the ground floor, he’d mostly worn out his annoyance, and the boxes had turned their attention to bickering about something else, which he could tune out a little more easily.

The deep red and hazy orange of the city’s smog-ridden sunset still colored the sky when he exited the building. He squinted in the theoretical direction of the midtown skyline, then tramped down the block to the rail platform. Maybe he’d get to Manhattan by the time the sun went all the way down.

He hoped he’d run into Spidey somewhere around the Baxter Building again, as it seemed likely the do-gooder would stop over some night soon for an update. The snatches of conversation he’d caught between the webslinger and members of the Four sounded like they might actually spend more time teaming up than anyone realized, or maybe even knew him outside of the mask. Nonetheless, Wade was willing to bet even Richards wasn’t co*cky enough to let another hero develop an easily intercepted pattern of visiting their tower.

The merc exited the perpetually muggy air and fluorescent glare of the 51st Street subway tunnel into the relative cool and darkness of the midtown Manhattan evening sometime later. “If I were a spider, where would I be on a Tuesday night?” he wondered aloud, wandering south past the Fantastic Four’s building toward Koreatown.

『Probably webbing up hard-working folks just doing innocent, small-time crime in sketchy dark alleys.』

「Yeah, ever notice how he’s always bagging small-timers and never taking down the real criminals? If Spider-Man were a real hero, he’d be webbing up half of Wall Street instead!」

“That’s enough color commentary from you, comrades. Anyway, he totally knocks out big-timers,” Wade scoffed. “What about that sand guy? Or sparky sparky boom man? The theater kid with the fishbowl helmet?”

He paused for a moment to reflect. “Man, this dude has some tacky villains. Look, you’re distracting me from my whole thing here. I’m trying to think like a spandex-y twunk here.” After fruitlessly meandering down several blocks, he decided he might as well make his way toward Central Park anyway. Maybe someone would be hoodwinking tourists with some nonsense on their way out of the zoo. Hoodwinking was the sort of thing Spidey was real into stopping, right?

Sure enough, Wade found the webslinger in the park. The guy was lecturing a group of boys who’d been grinding on curbs and doing half-assed flips on a low set of stairs on safety. He watched the exchange with amusem*nt, lingering in the shadows a ways away. Only Spider-Man (all right, and maybe Captain America) could make teenagers feel bad for not wearing a helmet.

The kids promised Spider-Man that they would head over to the LES park next time and during actual park hours instead, then wandered off. Wade approached the hero. “And get a darn helmet! A TBI is no laughing matter!” Spidey yelled after the teens.

“Friendly neighborhood spider indeed!” Wade called out, clapping slowly as he approached. “That’s the kind of grassroots hero-ing this city needs.”

Spider-Man jerked around to face him. “Deadpool? What the heck?”

『Isn’t this guy supposed to be able to sense danger ahead of time? Doesn’t this idiot here count as danger?』

「 R U D E 」

“You know, you can call me Wade,” he said to the spider with a slight frown. Had he somehow managed to surprise the young hero? That was odd. Wade was pretty sure the guy was supposed to have some kind of precognitive ability that prevented things like that.

“Uh-huh. What are you doing here, Deadpool?” All right, so Spider-man was just going to ignore that little overture of friendship, then. Wade supposed it was fair. It hadn’t been that long since he’d had Spidey on the wrong end of a katana.

“Finished up my little vacation, didn’t have any plans lined up after,” he replied, keeping his tone nonchalant. “Figured I could hang around the Big Apple for a little bit. It’s been a minute since I last visited the city with time to kill instead of people.”

“I’d prefer you weren’t here at all if killing people figures into your plans in any way,” Spider-Man said stiffly, mask remaining impassive despite the implied threat.

“To be fair, I wasn’t planning to un-alive those so-called doctors at Oscorp,” Wade reminded him. “I was only getting paid for a data retrieval mission. That was all pro bono, baby.”

“Yeah, and thanks to you, Doctor Storm has limited data to go on for treating those patients, instead of a living scientist to question,” Spidey retorted.

“Yeah yeah, okay.” The mutate held up his hands in defeat. “Look, I didn’t come out here to pick a fight with you, webhead.”

“Then what did you come out here for?”

Wade shrugged. “Dunno. Wanted to check in on how the, um, patients are doing. Figured I’d be able to get ahold of the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man more easily than Mister Fantastic.”

“Oh.” The blank, white lenses on Spidey’s mask blinked. “They’re doing surprisingly okay, from what Johnny says. Doctor Storm has been giving them a mix of suppressants to mitigate the worst of the side-effects while she works on stabilizing or reversing the intended effects of the experiments.”

“Well, that’s… that’s good to hear,” Wade said with a nod.

Spider-Man kept that blank stare trained on him for another long moment before looking elsewhere. “Was that all?”

Now it was Wade’s turn to look away. “We did a good job together, didn’t we? That was fun.”

“What’s your point?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we could… do that again sometime? Or something.”

When Wade flicked his gaze back, the hero’s wide-eyed mask was trained on his own disguised face. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Well, damn, Webs, don’t beat around the bush.”

“I’m serious. Why would I want to intentionally team up with you?”

『He’s got a point.』

Wade cast his gaze around desperately for inspiration.

「Dat ass is an inspiration.」

“I don’t know. Weren’t we a good team when I was listening to you? Is it that hard to believe that I might want to be, y’know, better? This stuff — ” here he gestured to the more obvious weapons on his person “ — can get a little old. Maybe I just want to see if I can do something new.”

“Uh-huh.” Despite his obvious suspicion, Spider-Man edged closer as Wade spoke as if he were drawn in by the picture the merc was painting despite himself.

“Hey, if anyone can teach me how to be a good guy and make it stick, it’s you, right? That’s your whole, like, thing.” Wade shrugged. “I get it if you don’t want to though. I wouldn’t trust me either. And hey, I’ll try to do a little better research first the next time someone tries to point my gun in your direction,” he said with a weak laugh.

“Wait!” Spidey said, just a hair too loudly to be casual. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I mean…” The webslinger sighed deeply. “Fine. We can try this. You’re right, I can’t exactly imagine the Black Widow or Squirrel Girl taking you out on training patrols, and Squirrel Girl is even a Canadian. Plus, Tippy-Toe would play havoc with your arsenal.”

“Tippy…?”

“Don’t ask. All I’m sayin’ is, never underestimate a member of the family Sciuridae wielding a screwdriver.”

“Well, that’s refreshingly vague and ominous, Spidey, thanks,” Wade glowered. Spider-Man tossed his head back and laughed, clearly taken off-guard. It wasn’t fair how that gave Wade stupid butterflies in his stomach and made him want to try to keep making him laugh as much as he could.

「Suckerrrrr.」

“Soooooo… was that a yes?” the merc asked when the hero finally got himself back under control a few moments later.

“That’s a yes,” Webs confirmed.

“Woo-hoo, team-up!” cheered Wade, pumping a fist in the air. “Spider-Man and Deadpool, the dynamic duo the fans didn’t know they wanted until they got what they needed!”

“Don’t call it a team-up,” Spidey complained, scrunched brow and jutting jaw visible through his mask.

“It’s a team-up,” Wade insisted. “What else d’you want me to call it? Let’s get a couple of dogs and celebrate. My treat.”

The change of topic worked well enough to make the hero drop it, at least for the moment, and let Wade chatter on as they made their way through Central Park to find an open hot dog stand. The two of them were walking back down a gravel path through the park with fully loaded dogs when Spider-Man spoke abruptly.

“Sorry about the whole, uh y’know, scent thing before your heat. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. Omegas can just be a little much, sometimes.” Spidey’s white lenses went wide as he seemed to realize how that sounded. “Not that I think all Omegas are too much to handle or something! Just that, like, with the super senses and all. Some people’s pheromones can get a little overwhelming. Especially Omegas, for me at least. I'm just making this worse, aren’t I? I’m sorry,” he rambled.

The webhead hunched his shoulders and ducked his head. Wade was suffering from secondhand embarrassment even without being able to smell the guy through whatever industrial-grade filters he had in that suit. It was kind of adorable, honestly.

“Hey, we’re good!” Wade said cheerfully. “No big deal, Webs. Super senses gotta be a bitch, huh?”

“Yeahhh,” Spidey agreed, rubbing the back of his neck as he drew out the word. That seemed to be enough to relax the hero, and the pair sat down on a bench to finish their snacks.

“All right, well I still have a patrol to finish,” Webs said meaningfully, hopping up to toss his trash into a nearby can. Little goodie-two-shoes. He turned back to Wade with a little wave. “See you tomorrow! Let’s meet in East Harlem this time? I’ve been trying to swing by a little more often these days and show some solidarity. You know where the 116 Street stop is?” Wade nodded.

『You have no idea where that is.』

Wade did not have the slightest idea where the 116 Street stop was, or even if it was a light rail terminal or a bus stop, but he had a smartphone and unlimited data. The mercenary had every faith in his ability to use Google Maps to find a goddamn subway station.

“There’s a taquería on the northwest corner near that stop. Meet me on the roof. Around 8?” the hero asked brightly.

“Uhhh,” Wade wavered for a moment. Truthfully, he was still pretty thrown off that Spidey hadn’t required more convincing. “Yeah. Yes! Definitely. Tomorrow.” He watched the webslinger leap easily from the ground to the top of the streetlamp overhead, then into the thick foliage of the trees bordering the pathway they’d been wandering down in the general direction of a park exit. Well, that all went better than expected.

“Second date with Spider-Man! Score!” he whisper-yelled.

“Not a date!” the webslinger called out as he flipped neatly from one of the high-up branches to the next. Wade watched with barely contained glee as the hero thwipped his way out of the park at breakneck speed, then swung around a building and out of sight.

The boxes snickered. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a date. That still wasn’t going to stop Wade from thinking about it.

“f*ck, that hurt!” Wade yelped as he was slammed into the grimy concrete wall. “What gives, Webs?”

“What gives? What gives?!” Spider-Man practically growled at him, wrenching Wade’s arm behind his back and pinning him in place. “What do you think? Is the word ‘nonlethal’ simply not in your vocabulary? I just had to pull you off those guys!”

“Well, they were bad guys! What’s the problem?” Wade asked belligerently. Despite the tone, he forced himself to relax into the hold, grunting as something in his elbow popped unpleasantly. Keeping his cool under pressure wasn’t exactly his specialty even before he had boxes egging him on, but he didn’t want to lash out at the hero. And anyway, he could live with it if he kept getting the full-body press over here.

「Guh.」

“The problem, you jerk, is that it’s my job to protect people, including the guys I’m attempting to talk down from a mugging! I can’t do that if you hop in ready to chop off a leg!” Spidey lectured. Wade started to edge his free hand toward his belt but barely moved an inch before the webslinger pinned his wrist to the wall and webbed it in place. “Am I going to have to yank you away from every fight and web you up until you cool off? Because that doesn’t seem like it benefits my patrols, or more importantly my city, in any way.”

The hero’s body pressed even tighter against him to immobilize him fully against the concrete. A little more scolding and Wade would be noticeably more than half-hard, and there wouldn’t be any hiding that in the suit. Oh yeah, that was the good stuff right there.

『You’re disgusting.』

“Okay, okay!” Wade yelped, frowning beneath the mask. He wasn’t altogether sure if White had just been successful in shaming him, or if he was actually feeling the teensiest bit bad about making Spidey’s life harder. “No unaliving or serious maiming while I’m hanging out with you, got it. Jeez, Webs, you drive a real hard bargain.”

Spider-Man released the mercenary by using his body as a platform to vault up onto the wall. Wade didn’t miss how this put the webslinger’s lithe body well out of his reach as he clung to the cracked concrete panels of the second story. “No killing or serious injury while you’re in New York City. Not if we’re working together.”

Wade tugged hard at his webbed-up hand. “Yeah sure, okay, whatever. You gonna help me out here?”

The hero snorted. “I’m real convinced.”

The merc held up his free hand, little finger out. “I pinkie-swear that I will not do any gratuitous murders or grievous bodily harm whilst in the city of New York and patrolling with its least favorite wallcrawler. Can I have my hand back now?”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Can I please have my hand back now?”

Spider-man dipped down from his place on the wall to rip the webbing free like so much rice paper. “It’ll come off your glove in about an hour.”

“Maybe this is why no one likes you. If your services were on Yelp, you’d have like two stars.”

Spidey crossed his arms. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that everyone likes me.”

“Everyone, huh? What about old 'Get me pictures of Spider-Man!' at The Bugle?” Wade asked, shaking his tropically-scented fist and doing an excellent imitation of J. K. Simmons, if he said so himself.

“Average New Yorker rates Spider-Man an eight out of ten. J. Jonah Jameson, who rates Spider-Man a negative four out of ten and a menace, is an outlier and should not have been counted,” the webhead sniffed primly, crouching back on his haunches. This new position was fine with Wade, who now had an excellent view of the hero’s tight body as he practically lounged on the wall above him.

「Did I mentionguh.」?

“Uh-huh,” Wade said dubiously. “So are we done now?”

“Depends. Are you sure you’re done getting stabby with perps and then with me when I have to rescue them from you?”

Wade rolled his eyes. “I just said that, didn’t I?”

Spidey dropped back down to the ground in front of him almost silently. “I just think you can do better, Deadpool. You rescued all those people at Oscorp — “

“Psh, just part of the job,” Wade said, waving it away.

“ — Even though you didn’t have to help me out,” Spidey pressed on. “And then you hopped in Ben’s van with them and stuck around until they started to settle in up at the tower to help them feel like someone was watching out for them. That’s not nothing, big guy.”

「Ha! Oh, that’s a good one.」

『I bet the kid thinks you’re a good guy underneath it all.』

「Wonder what you can persuade him to do in the name of your redemption arc.」

“Sure, fine, whatever,” Wade said.

“I mean it.” Spider-Man lightly cuffed his shoulder, clearly telegraphing the move so Wade could dodge it if he really wanted to. “You free tomorrow?”

The merc shrugged noncommittally. He’d already been overeager enough, and look where that had gotten him.

“Let’s do Red Hook this time. I have some intel on some hinky goings-on at the docks that might be related to Oscorp’s ill-fated dynamic lab rats. Should be an afternoon shipment.”

“Well, at least some criminals know how not to draw attention to their shady smuggling,” the mutate drawled.

“Say two o’clock?” Spidey asked. Wade could practically hear his eyes rolling. “Could take a little while.”

“Stakeout, huh? Fun stuff. I’ll bring the snacks.”

Spider-Man snorted. “Good-bye, Deadpool.” He walked toward the mouth of the narrow alley before climbing up the wall again to thwip off.

「Dat ass tho.」

『Is that all you think about?』

「Have you looked at it? Guh.」

Wade forced himself to push the chatter into the background. “I’m going to have to get a second place in New York, aren’t I?” he wondered aloud.

「Why would you do that? We got the DeadHut and a mostly-working teleportation belt.」

“What if Spidey wants to come over someday?”

『Sure, that’ll be the day.』

Wade ignored the interjection. “I can’t just invite him to bodyslide to San Francisco!”

「Why not?」

“Because ‘Hold onto my buff and manly chest and close your eyes, I swear I won’t sex-murder you and hey also try not to throw up while we pop across the country’ somehow just isn’t very convincing,” Wade retorted, rolling his eyes.

「Well when you put itthat way…」

『I can’t f*cking believe you’re going to get an apartment just to hang out with this f*cking stick-up-his-ass do-gooder.』

「 wanna be the stick up his ass. Guh.」

『Yes, you’ve both made your position very clear. And you’re still disgusting.』

“Ya just can’t argue with the Spider-Butt, White. Gotta admit, cha boi Yellow has a point there.”

『Good enough to move a bunch of your sh*t to New York?』

“Uuugggghhh, I hate moving,” Wade groaned melodramatically, dropping his head back against the wall.

『Hah.』

The merc brightened. “Hey, at least SHIELD’s got a big branch office out here too! I should give Scott and Emily a call. Maybe they have some legally sanctioned work so I can pay for my new digs. Spidey’s gonna be so proud!”

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Yellow’s obsessive erotic poetry aside, “that ass” was f*cking right when it came to the webhead. That everything, honestly. Little do-gooder had no right to look so hot in a unitard. Wade was still sporting a half-chub from his encounter with Spider-Man in the alleyway when he rematerialized in his hotel room. Using a bodyslide to get anywhere that wasn’t preprogrammed in was a little dicey (especially when he didn’t have Weasel on-hand to key in new coordinates whenever he needed him), but the mutate wasn’t about to spend forty-five minutes on public transit to let the sense-memory of getting slammed into a wall so hard that it cracked the concrete just fade.

『Your priorities are so f*cked.』

「No, no. He’s got a point.」

The mercenary stalked further into the room and dropped heavily onto the edge of the bed. He hastily unclasped his utility belt and undid his fly, not bothering to pull the leather pants any farther down his body than he had to. He slipped his co*ck out from the fly of his boxers and began to loosely stroke it with one leather-clad fist. As he leaned back on his free hand and spread his legs a little, Wade began to fantasize about what would have happened if Spidey had found himself getting a little tight around the web-shooter while he was trying to knock some sense into the mutate. f*ck, even the lecturing had been kind of hot…

“f*ck, that hurt!” Wade yelps as he’s slammed into the grimy concrete wall. “What gives, Webs?”

“What gives? What gives?!” Spider-Man practically growls at him, wrenching Wade’s arm behind his back and pinning him in place. The merc suppresses a shiver at the way the sound seemed to travel right through him. “What do you think? Is the word ‘nonlethal’ simply not in your vocabulary? I just had to pull you off those guys!”

“Well, they were bad guys! What’s the problem?” The mercenary asks belligerently. Wade remembered how Spidey had yanked his arm up even higher up his back after that, the pain and immobility of the position going straight to Wade’s co*ck even as it forced their bodies closer together. He forced himself to keep a steady speed as he continued to stroke himself, imagining how that encounter might have continued differently.

“The problem, you jerk, is that it’s my job to protect people, including the guys I’m attempting to talk down from a mugging! I can’t do that if you hop in ready to chop off a leg!” Spidey lectures. Wade starts to edge his free hand toward his belt, but barely moves an inch before the webslinger pins his wrist to the wall and webs it in place.

“Am I going to have to yank you away from every fight and web you up until you cool off? Because that doesn’t seem like it benefits me very much.” The hero’s voice deepens as he continues, and his body presses even tighter against Wade to immobilize him fully against the concrete. “Or are you going to give me a better incentive to keep teaming up with you?” Spidey rocks his hips forward a little, grinding up against the merc’s ass. He is definitely not wearing a cup.

Wade groans and drops his masked face to rest against the grimy wall. He stops trying to free his hand and finds himself pushing back against Spidey’s co*ck instead. “f*ck,” he grinds out, unbidden, as the hero thrusts harder against him, teasing through all that spandex and kevlar. “I’m so good at teamwork. The best.”

“Is that so? I might need you to prove it.” The webslinger works a hand down the front of Wade’s pants. “Do you think you can work with me here?”

“Yes!” Wade yells frantically, scrabbling at the wall with his free arm. Spider-Man wraps his long, gloved fingers around Wade’s dick and starts to stroke it.

Wade spat into his glove and gripped his dick tighter, not minding the friction of the leather or slight chafe of the seams against his sensitive skin.

“Yeah? Are you actually going to try to be a good guy? Can you do what I tell you to do?” Spidey asks as his pace increases. Wade fisted his co*ck more quickly.

“Yes, yes, please,” comes the babbling response.

“Can you be good? Do you want to be good for me, Wade?” the hero asks again, more softly. In Wade’s head, Webs was nicer to him than he tended to be in real life. More patient. Softer. And he wasn’t going to think about that, or the boxes were going to get too loud to ignore.

“Please, yes, anything you want! I’ll be good, I want to be good,” Wade moans.

Wade gripped himself around the base of his dick, just below the soft flesh of his small Omega knot. He could feel the slick dampening his boxers, making them cling to his ass and legs. The simple little fantasy was getting to him much more intensely than he’d anticipated; he didn’t usually get wet so quickly.

He haphazardly pulled the red leather under his asscheeks, annoyed at his impatience. Thinking about the tightly muscled hero had his body dripping and begging to be filled, no soreness leftover from his heat thanks to his mutation. Unfortunately, he realized that he wouldn’t be able to open his legs enough with the suit on to meet his own needs, not without getting fully onto the bed in a presentation position to reach his hole properly or stopping to take off his pants and boots.

After a half-second of hesitation, Wade crawled onto the dingy hotel mattress. Partial nudity sounded better than being all alone with his ass in the air and jerking off to some Beta whose real face he didn’t even know. At least he could get under the sheets this way. Might as well take off the gloves too. Spidey probably would. He seemed like the kind of guy who knew how to treat a boy. If he liked boys. Or Omegas. Wade’s erection started to flag a little. Nope, not going there, Swiss cheese brain.

The merc kicked off his combat boots and stripped off the leather-and-kevlar pants and gloves, finally shucking his soaked boxers and sliding under the sheets. He let his left hand slip past his sack, giving it a brief squeeze of pleasure-pain before starting to tease at his ass. Finally, he swiped his right hand through the slick and started stroking his half-hard dick again, trying to refocus.

“Can you be good? Do you want to be good for me, Wade?” the hero asks again, more softly. “I want you to be a good boy for me.”

“Yes, anything you want! I’ll be good, I want to be good,” Wade moans. “Please let me be a good boy for you, Webs, f*ck.”

He can’t see much of the webslinger’s facial expressions through the mask, but he imagines that Spidey smiles at that. The hero undoes Wade’s fly and pulls the bottom half of the suit just under his cheeks. His only reaction to the plump, scarred flesh is to begin kneading and spreading it.

“I can smell you, all slicked up for me already. Is that all it takes? I just web you to a wall and rub my co*ck up against you?” Spidey teases. Wade’s only response is a small whimper. “You like that I can pin you down even without the webbing, don’t you? A big guy like you, hard to find someone who can manhandle you right, huh? Well, I’m happy to oblige.”

Spidey ruts up against the merc, heedless of the mess of slick getting all over the front of his costume. The gloved hand that isn’t pinning Wade’s free arm down slips between them to tease at Wade’s hole. Before he knows it, Spidey has pushed up his own mask over his nose and pulled the glove off with his teeth. One bare finger slides easily inside the Omega. There’s only the slightest resistance as a second finger is added. Wade presses his forehead hard into the wall to stop from f*cking himself on just those two fingers and embarrassing himself any further.

“Oh f*ck, you’re so wet,” Spidey groans, thrusting against Wade’s ass in time with his fingers like he can tell that the Omega is already struggling not to beg for it. For his part, Wade is still pressing his face into the wall and biting his lip to hold back a whimper.

The webslinger removes his fingers but keeps Wade in place by clamping his teeth right over the scent gland where the Omega’s mask tucks into the collar of his suit. There’s a rustling noise behind Wade, and then his brain shorts out for a second because Spider-Man’s co*ckhead is rubbing up against his asshole, getting covered in the fresh gush of slick this causes him to produce.

“Oh my god, please let me have it,” Wade demands in an embarrassingly breathy voice. Spidey teases him by continuing to just barely press his co*ck into him, over and over. “Please!” he whines, trying to push back onto the Beta’s thick length.

“Be good,” the hero reminds him, pulling away from him a little. He releases Wade’s hand to grip his own co*ck and guides it properly into Wade. The Omega groans in satisfaction at the feeling.

The mercenary pushed two fingers into himself, groaning at the sensation. He clenched down on them for a moment, then started to f*ck himself eagerly. His other hand alternated between jerking off and rolling his balls between his fingers when the feeling became too overwhelming.

“Why don’t you stroke that pretty little Omega co*ck for me?” Spidey prods as he rocks into Wade’s body. “Oh god, you’re so warm. God f*cking damn it, you feel good.” His pace increases a little like now he’s the one that can’t help himself. He’s plastered to Wade’s back at this point, touching him at every possible point of contact.

“Come on, I want to watch you play with yourself while I f*ck you,” the Beta coaxes. Wade obliges after another experimental tug at the arm that’s still webbed up, stroking his dick with his free hand.

“Sorry, you’re not getting that hand back for a while,” Spidey says. He’s rutting into the Omega without faltering and still unfairly coherent despite it. “I like being able to keep you just where I want you, so I can fill you up all I want. I’m gonna leave you f*cked out and dripping with my come,” he promises.

Wade can feel the pleasure starting to build as he strokes his textured co*ck with a leather-gloved hand. Spidey makes a pleased noise as he watches from over Wade’s shoulder. “That’s it, good boy. Show me how much you like it.” The Omega feels himself getting wetter as the webslinger praises him, making the sound of their bodies slapping together even more obscene.

“You’re so slick and ready for me, I could probably shove the rest of it in you and blow my knot right in your tight ass,” Spidey taunts, and Wade moans wordlessly in response. “Is that what you want? You want me to come in your stretched-out hole and keep you filled up with my knot?”

“Yeah! Yes, I want it,” Wade finds his words well enough to agree. His head drops back onto the Beta’s shoulder, relaxed and almost trusting. “f*ck, please fill me up.”

The Omega pressed a third finger into himself, moaning at the slight stretch. His hand was covered in his slick at this point, as wet as he can ever remember being outside of a heat. He teasingly stroked his glans, shuddering at the intensity of the feeling and the way it made him clench around his fingers.

“Keep playing with that dick and moaning like that, and you just might get it.” The webslinger bites playfully at Wade’s exposed throat. He resumes his earlier pace, pressing his inflating knot steadily against Wade’s rim. Soon, he starts to slam harder into Wade, pulling the larger man’s hips back to meet each thrust. “f*ck, I’m gonna come right in that tight little ass. Come on, tighten up on my co*ck. I want to feel you,” he urges, grabbing one scarred cheek and spreading the other man’s ass. Wade quickly complies, clenching his muscles, and Spidey growls in his ear. “Oh, f*ck yeah, good boy. You want my come, huh?”

Wade’s head was buzzing with arousal at the filthy mouth of his imaginary hero. He was so slick that his fingers were covered in it and making a lewd squelching noise as he rocked down onto them.

“Yeah, give it to me, please. I want to feel you come so hard in me that it empties you out.” He kept stroking his dick, muscles clenching and unclenching around the co*ck splitting him open.

Spidey wraps one arm around Wade’s middle and the other hand around his throat. “Yeah? You’re gonna f*cking get it then.” His pace quickens yet again as he easily lifts Wade to meet his thrusts over and over again. “Ah f*ck! f*ck!” Wade feels the Beta’s hot spend fill him, but Spidey carefully keeps his knot outside of Wade’s body. He whines and writhes on the hero’s co*ck like he’s been pinned there, trying valiantly to f*ck himself down onto those last couple of inches.

Spidey holds him in place and presses his oversensitive knot against the Omega’s hole with a low growl. “Look at you, still dripping slick all over my co*ck. Do you want it that bad?” Wade nods, completely shameless. “I bet I could just slip this knot right in you, you’re so wet and desperate for it. Maybe we should find out.”

The hero presses a couple of gloved fingers against the pink rim pulled taut around his co*ck. With only a small amount of pressure, they slide in the slicked-up, desperate Omega alongside his still-hard length, opening him up. “Look at how well you took that,” he praises. “I think you really are ready for it.”

“Oh god, please f*cking give it to me already. I need it,” Wade begs. He pumps his dick as Spidey thrusts hard, finally slamming that knot into him, filling and stretching him perfectly. The Beta shudders at the tight squeeze on his still-blown knot and presses his teeth against Wade’s shoulder hard enough to be felt through the leather and kevlar. Wade feels his balls tighten up, and he knows he won’t be able to hold off for much longer, if at all.

The merc pressed a fourth finger into his hole, suppressing the urge to purr in satisfaction at the stretch. He urgently fisted his dick in time with the movement of his fingers.

“Can I come?” he asks frantically, still trying to show Spidey that he can be as good as the hero wants him to be. “Can I come, please, can I come?”

“Yes, come on, come right now,” Spidey orders, pressing his whole body tight against Wade, and the Omega shudders as his seed paints the wall in front of him. “Good boy, Wade. Get it all out. Good boy.”

As Wade finally came, thighs tensing and ass clenching tight around his fingers, he bit his lip hard to stifle a cry. He stroked his knot as he rode out the final surge of his org*sm. The Omega dragged his hand through the mix of slick and ji*zz, squeezing along his oversensitive dick to get the last few drops. He slowly pulled his fingers from his ass, the slight amount of overstimulation almost enough to make him consider a second round.

『Well, that sure happened.』

「Guh.」

『Too bad the webhead doesn’t like Omegas.』

And just like that, the post-org*smic haze cleared. Wade’s shoulders slumped. He did a cursory job of wiping up the come and slick on the sheets and yanked his pants back on without having to look at himself.

「We can still be friends though. Maybeee… sex friends?」

『Name one person who’s made friends with this idiot without getting paid by someone, imprisoned by him, or tried to murder him.』

Wade flopped back on the bed and buried his head in the pillows. “f*ck you guys,” he mumbled. “I can make friends.”

「Press X to doubt.」

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Peter sighed as he walked out of his thesis chair’s office, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes. Doctor Lamaze’s admin assistant glanced over sympathetically from her computer screen.

“Rough review?” she asked, shooting him a soft smile. “If it makes you feel any better, Anna Maria left his office crying earlier.”

“Thanks for the sympathy, Deb,” Peter responded with a snort. “At this rate, I’m going to be spending an extra week just on the footnotes for my intro. Forget putting hours into CAD working on a functional device, right? It’s way more important that I make sure I’m citing Lamaze instead of, say Pym or McCoy’s research.” He snorted and shook his head.

Debra rolled her eyes. “Obviously. To be fair, you brought this on yourself by choosing Lamaze as your supervisor.”

“Oh yeah, what am I going to do? Hunt down Reed Richards to chair my thesis committee the next time he comes back from space?” Peter asked sarcastically.

He’d tried that already, and Reed and Sue had both been too busy containing some new xenobiological threat to even hear him out properly. Then Johnny had pointed out that regular old Peter Parker didn’t have any feasible way that he’d be able to pull the favors to ever get in contact with the country’s preeminent research physician and astrophysicist, much less snag either of them for something so tedious as a thesis committee. It was true, but the flaming knot-thot didn’t have to rub it in.

“Okay, point taken,” the blonde laughed, adjusting her glasses. “You’ll be fine, Pete. Lamaze just wants to see that your data is solid and that you put enough background biochem to explain your project. All right, and that you’re citing his research whenever possible,” she conceded at Peter’s skeptical look. “Sanchez and Lanning are going to be happy with just the specs of a theoretical device, and they’ll be over the moon if you 3D print a model and put a diagram on your PowerPoint. You don’t need to lose any more sleep over it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” the grad student replied, stifling a yawn. He’d been up late the night before (as usual, because crime never sleeps and apparently neither can Spider-Man), first working on his actual schoolwork, then reaching out to Ben for yet another update on Sue’s research, before finally doing more remote scouting on the computer systems of the industrial warehouses he was planning on investigating the next day with Deadpool. He even considered asking whichever of the new Avengers was on call to do more research into the more recent activities of his new “partner,” just to see how much he’d have to be watching his own back, but by then the sun was starting to peek around the top floors of the surrounding buildings.

“I appreciate the pep talk,” he continued once he finished the interminable yawn, uncovering his mouth and flashing Debra a half-smile. “I’ve already booked all the time I can in the materials lab for the week anyway. Catch you later, Deb.”

Peter departed the office with a wave at the patient, long-suffering woman. Debra always gave a smile and a wave when he passed her desk, and she made time to chat with him and ask about his work both in and out of the chem department whenever he stopped to say hi. If the pretty blonde hadn’t been an Omega, Peter probably would have put some serious thought into asking her out. As it was, he still found himself somewhat tempted when her scent was muted.

The hero discreetly checked his SpiderPhone to see if his bots had any updates, then tucked it away and switched back to his standard Android. On his way out of the building and toward one of the nearby unsurveilled rooftops, he dialed a number he hadn’t reached out to in longer than he ought to have done.

“Hello?” came a soft voice through the phone.

“Hi, Aunt May,” he greeted warmly. He took a more circuitous roof than usual to his chosen rooftop, unable to shake the prickling feeling of eyes on him that he couldn’t quite pin down as spidey-sense or paranoia. He could have sworn he saw a flash of purple and green out of the corner of his eye…

“Peter? How are you, dear? It’s been at least a week since your last call!” she admonished.

“It’s been five days!” Peter laughed. He was feeling paranoid and guilty, that’s all. “I’m sorry, I’ve been slammed between my thesis and grading midterms. I’ll try to call sooner next time.” As much as he missed his aunt’s homemade Italian cooking, it was more important to keep the likelihood of any possible association being made between her and Spider-Man to a minimum. Norman had taught him that hard lesson, and Harry had cemented it.

“That professor works all of you so hard! Don’t you TA’s have a union now?” May asked with a laugh of her own.

“I still have to show up and teach!” Peter protested.

“If you say so,” the older woman sniffed. “You could just give them all a B+ and be done with it. Maybe then you’d have time to visit and paint my kitchen like you’ve been promising for weeks.”

Peter glanced around the narrow street between buildings, then leaned casually against a wall of rug-face brick. He needed to wait to climb up and change until he could turn off his phone to ensure its location couldn’t be pinged (sure, he could just turn off location tracking in general, but sometimes a guy wants to play Pokémon Go or use OoperEats, and there was no guarantee his phone couldn’t just get hacked anyway). He had plenty of time until he was scheduled to meet up with Deadpool, so he was happy to spend more time talking to Aunt May.

“What happened to my dear, sweet old aunt who taught me all about hard work and doing the right thing? Anyway — ”

“She decided that her nephew getting some sleep and occasionally having real food was occasionally more important,” May interrupted. “Now stop sassing me. My weak, old heart can’t take it.”

The brunet snorted. “Sure, Aunt May. Whatever you say. Anyway, I’m more worried about getting a single chapter of my darn thesis finished than grading a hundred chemistry exams. I’m sure glad I got started on my research over the summer, or I’d be worried.”

“Oh, Peter, I’m sure you’ll be fine. My little genius,” his aunt dismissed breezily. They continued their conversation for another quarter of an hour until Aunt May had properly updated Peter on the goings-on of his old neighborhood and her gardening and volunteer work around the borough.

Peter had even successfully suppressed a wince at May’s heavy-handed mentions of MJ’s several visits to her own family home next door and the redhead’s updates on Harry’s slowly improving condition at the inpatient facility. He couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by his failures any more than he already was, as this strange new case at Oscorp proved.

“Well, it was great to catch up with you,” he said. “I’m about to head down to the train, okay?”

“All right, dear,” May agreed. “Give me another call soon. And it would be nice to see my busy little engineer before your spring vacation.”

“Of course,” he reassured her without any specific plans or dates, suppressing no small amount of guilt. “Bye, Aunt May.”

“Good-bye, Peter.” As soon as May hung up, Peter switched his phone off and rapidly, near-silently scaled the fire escape he’d been loitering near.

A quick scan confirmed that the roof was empty of both humans and CCTV, so he ducked behind the dual cover of the HVAC unit and concrete parapet to change into his uniform. He relaxed minutely after slipping on the mask but wasn’t fully in character, so to speak, until he’d finished up the final adjustments to his utility belt and web-shooters.

Peter briefly swapped out a standard web cartridge to web his school bag to the top of the mechanical unit with the one cartridge of long-lasting webbing formula he normally carried with him for just this purpose. It only took one backpack dropping into a full restaurant dumpster because he couldn’t get back to it before the webbing disintegrated to teach him to use an early, non-degrading form of the fluid to keep his things safe. It had been a little trickier to develop a solvent for it that didn’t also damage whatever was being webbed up, but he’d been pretty bored without a project that spring break anyway.

Once his bag and civilian clothes were safely stowed away, the webslinger exchanged the cartridge for his standard formula. He hopped up onto the parapet, balancing effortlessly on the aluminum coping cap despite the fine coating of grit and pigeon droppings. One well-placed shot of web fluid later, he was swinging his way across the city to meet up with his least-favorite mercenary.

Maybe “least-favorite” wasn’t the best superlative for Peter to apply to Deadpool. There was potential for the two of them to work well together, and the mercenary was on the shortlist of people who were happy to quip along with Spider-Man through almost any circ*mstances. Peter also couldn’t help noticing how well the man filled out his body armor and how gracefully, if chaotically, he moved in battle. Besides, it was unfair to entirely write off someone who said they were trying to be a better person and who was asking for help, no matter how suspicious Peter was of their motivations.

The hero was interrupted in his musings by the sharp zing of his Spidey-Sense up his spine and a soft shuffling noise off to his left. He whirled to face the threat and was met with the sight of a rather sheepish-looking Deadpool.

“Uh… hey, Webs,” the hulking mercenary greeted with an aborted wave.

“What are you — How did you — ” Peter spluttered, more than a little disturbed at how easy it had been for Deadpool to get so close before Peter had any warning of his presence. “Get down!” He hissed, then yanked the larger man behind the same cluster vent housing he was using as cover on the rooftop across from the warehouse the pair was meant to be staking out.

“See? I told you he wouldn’t like being snuck up on,” Deadpool muttered over his shoulder. “No, he’s not impressed, look at him.”

“Who are you talking to?” the webslinger demanded in an attempt to mask his unease.

“Boxes,” Deadpool replied, forgoing any further elaboration. “Sorry about that. Teleportation belt. Easier than rolling a stealth check and climbing up here.”

Peter’s annoyance was eclipsed by scientific fascination, sidetracking him. “Teleportation? How does it work? Is it alien?” Then he looked shrewdly over to the mercenary. “How did you get ahold of something like that? Did you steal it from Reed?”

“It’s mine, scout’s honor. Friend out in Cali made it for me. I think.” After a moment of silence he added, “And no, you can’t have a look at it.”

“How does it work?” Peter repeated, still fixated.

“Beats me,” Deadpool shrugged. “Bodyslide doesn’t work that well outside of preprogrammed coordinates, either. Liable to bust it if I keep trying to use it to get places that aren’t preprogrammed… which right now is just my house and the hotel. That, or it’ll just splinch me between the two locations.”

“Then why would you just use it all — all willy-nilly like that?” Peter asked in complete bafflement.

“Because I was trying to surprise you, duh!” Deadpool said with a flap of his hands.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insane?”

“Oh, I’m sure it's been mentioned once or twice,” came the breezy response. Peter rolled his eyes, glad for the discretion his mask provided. “So, what are we doing?”

“Stakeout, remember? There’s a shipment coming into this dock in the next couple of hours,” said Peter. “Hence, y’know, the duck-and-cover routine.”

“No duh.” When Deadpool rolled his eyes, his mask somehow managed to show it. “I mean, what exactly are we looking for? Do we have a description of the package? Any of the workers? Are we going to allow them to make the exchange? Is this strictly an eyes-only mission? What’s the plan afterward? How am I supposed to help with the stakeout if I don’t have all the deets, Webs?” he rattled off.

The young hero was surprised for a moment at Deadpool’s sudden focus and the barrage of detail-oriented questions. Well, the man was purported to be one of the best mercenaries in the business. Peter supposed he had to have some skills other than murder hoboing his way through a job.

“Valid points,” acknowledged Peter begrudgingly. “This is off-schedule for Oscorp’s standard supply shipments, but the cargo is mostly new lab and server equipment, so that makes sense.”

“You’re welcome,” Deadpool interrupted.

“Yes, most likely because of the damage somebody did to the below-ground labs earlier this week,” Peter continued, begrudgingly glad of the opportunity but knowing the cost was unacceptable. People had died in that blast. Not that Deadpool had cared. Hell, that had been the merc’s intention. And there it was, right on time: the reminder of just why he kept the mutate at arm’s length no matter how funny or muscular he was. Peter couldn’t even keep up with Deadpool well enough to protect people from him. How was he supposed to trust the guy, team-up or no team-up?

He shook his head, annoyed with himself for relaxing around the mercenary and refusing to allow the interjection derail him further. The sooner they got through this, the sooner he could part ways with this crazy jerk and do what he could to make up for whatever damage allowing him to stay in the city would cause. “Based on the invoices I pulled from their system, we know that the shipment should be about 3 cargo containers worth of equipment. Anything more than that, or that gets added to a container at the last second, is something we need to know about.”

Deadpool tapped his chin with one gloved finger. “But how do you know that there’s even going to be anything? If I was a supervillain — ”

“Implying you’re not one already,” Peter griped under his breath.

“First of all, rude. You agreed to team up with me, Webs! And I’ve apologized like seven times already for trying to kill you that time,” the mercenary pouted, flailing his hands. “As I was saying, if I were a supervillain, I wouldn’t exactly be shipping server racks with ingredients for shady biomedical experiments. So what gives?”

“Dock supervisors don’t normally make enough money to buy a brand new RAM 1500. Four-wheel drive with the full-body blackout package. Oh, and did I mention he paid in full? Cash, of course.” Peter nodded toward the fenced-off employee parking behind the building. “So that was a bit of a hint.”

“It’s a fair cop,” the merc commented in a horrible co*ckney accent.

Peter snorted. “I still can’t pinpoint who’s directing the operation though. They’re using fairly high-level clearance to order what should be an average shipment, but it’s not telling me a lot else.”

“Didn’t Doctor Storm say this looked like the handiwork of ol’ Greenie McHalloweenie?” Deadpool asked. “Maybe he’s just back to his old tricks.”

“Definitely not,” Peter said with a firm shake of his head. Someone had spoofed Harry’s account to make the rush order, not that Peter was going to tell that to the mercenary. Norman was definitely dead, and Harry was still convalescing and partially amnesiac, last he’d heard. It clearly hadn’t been the old Goblin up to new tricks. The real question was whether this was someone else inside Oscorp, perhaps someone who had been involved in developing the Goblin formula who he’d missed the first time, or if Peter should be looking elsewhere.

“Why’s that? Makes sense to me.”

“It’s just not. Trust me.”

Deadpool waved a hand lazily. “Fine by me. On your head, if people get hurt over it, not mine. It’s not like I’m getting paid extra to care.” Peter scowled at him, not caring that most of the expression was lost behind the fabric. “Get it, Webs? Because I’m not getting paid? Sheesh, tough crowd.” The last sentence was once again murmured into the air off to one side.

Finer details hashed out, the pair settled in to wait. After about a quarter of an hour, Peter’s anger and irritation with the mutate had simmered down to a manageable level. It was almost more annoying that Deadpool pushed his buttons without apparently trying, getting under his skin just as much when Peter found himself enjoying the merc’s company as when he acted like the cold-blooded assassin he was. Peter shook his shoulders out to dispel the train of thought and settled further into his crouch. It wasn’t worth his time.

Another forty-five minutes of (relative, considering the company) silence passed before Deadpool pulled a bunch of snacks and two Capri-Suns from his inexplicably bottomless utility belt pouches. The merc had a teleporter, so Peter supposed he really ought to suspend his disbelief and just accept that the guy also had a real, live bag of holding — which was apparently so commonplace for him that he filled it with juice boxes.

“Cheez-Its?” he offered, holding a small bag of the crackers out to the webslinger. Peter gratefully, if somewhat gingerly, took the proffered snack.

“Uh… thanks,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d actually bring food with you.”

“I promised snacks, I brought snacks.” Deadpool shrugged. “No, it’s not that weird that I remembered. I’m not making it creepy, you’re making it creepy!” He swatted over his left shoulder. The outburst should have had Peter edging away, but instead, he found himself bursting into laughter that was quickly muffled behind a gloved hand.

“You’re so strange,” he observed with a shake of his head once he got himself under control. That seemed to throw the mercenary off.

“Uh, thanks. I think.” The blank whites of the man’s mask bored into Peter’s mask hard enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with a mild frisson of Spidey-Sense.

No, wait. The sensation grew as activity at the dock in front of the warehouse they were staking out increased. Peter perked up, cheesy crackers forgotten. “It’s time!”

“Great, let’s go.” Deadpool made to pull his katanas from their sheaths, but Peter tugged him back down behind the parapet once again.

“No, not yet. It’s time for the shipment. We need to count how many cargo containers there are, and see if we recognize anyone or anything. I planned to go interrogate the dock supervisor afterward to avoid drawing more suspicion.”

The mercenary instantly relaxed. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Now I understand why you wanted me here.”

The latter statement didn’t quite parse, but Peter ignored that in favor of focusing his enhanced vision on the top loader currently stacking a couple of shipping containers onto an Oscorp flatbed truck. Deadpool grumbled something about “spider vision” before pressing a pair of military surplus binoculars to the eyes of his mask.

They didn’t have long to wait before the small shipment was transferred. Peter noticed a few smaller crates being loaded into the cab of the truck at the last moment. He elbowed Deadpool sharply in the ribs and pointed wordlessly to the transaction occurring below. The merc nodded in apparent understanding.

The moment the truck drove through the gate and out of sight, Peter was scaling down the corrugated metal and skirting along the wall. After a few patrols together, he shouldn’t have been surprised when Deadpool caught up to him by dropping to the ground a few feet ahead with a horrible bone-crunching sound. The taller man straightened quickly, shaking out an ankle.

“Woof, nothin’ wakes a guy up like a few shattered metatarsals, let me tell ya!” he stage-whispered through a wide grin before gesturing that Peter should continue to lead the way. Unsettled, Peter weaved through stacks of cargo containers between the warehouse they’d used as a vantage point and the shipping office, sticking to blind spots and shadows as much as he could. After the shock of his initial landing, the merc was a surprisingly silent tail.

Once they’d made it near the office, it was simpler for the arachnid to just reach around the corner and web over the security cameras by the main doors than to bother with finding another entry point or hoping they were wireless and trying to hack into the feed. Peter quickstepped to the entrance and in through the door, Deadpool hot on his heels.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

“Well, hey there… Dave,” Peter greeted the dock supervisor brightly as he entered the back office, glancing at the name embroidered in a thick script on the man’s jumpsuit. “Can I call you Dave? I was hoping you could answer a couple of questions for me. Do you have a minute, my guy?”

The Alpha squared off against Peter and opened his mouth, beginning to stand up out of the swiveling chair he’d been slouched in when the hero entered. Peter was willing to bet that without his mask filtration, the man’s pheromones would have had his aggression and anxiety spiking in response.

“Now listen, I know you costumed weirdos think you’re the lord’s gift to the rest of us, but I’ll have you know — ” Deadpool, who had been lagging behind Peter since they entered the building, chose that moment to stalk into the room, abristle with weapons and somehow clearly glaring behind his mask.

The dark-haired man’s — Dave’s — mouth gaped momentarily in an impressive rendition of a startled koi fish before snapping shut. He practically threw himself back into the chair, rolling it several inches away from the shabby laminate desk. The back of Peter’s neck and shoulders tingled as the hulking mercenary moved to flank him, until he was barely in the hero’s peripheral vision but still very clearly blocking the room’s only exit. It was honestly a little dramatic for Peter’s taste, but maybe theatrics would get the dockworker talking a little more quickly.

“C’mon, Davey. Why don’t you help my good pal Spidey out here?” Deadpool sneered.

Dave’s jaw tightened as the merc’s attention directed toward him. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say.”

“Oh, double negative! You know what that means!” Peter interjected with forced cheer, trying to deescalate the mounting tension in the room. The Alpha wouldn’t cooperate if he was too angry or frightened, and Peter would rather he gave them information because he was persuaded to help rather than forced.

“Wuzzat?” the dock supervisor asked suspiciously.

“That means you do have something to say to me after all!” the hero crowed. Behind him, Deadpool snorted loudly. “Hey, I just want to know about the box that just went to Oscorp.”

Dave’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “Gonna hafta be more specific. They had three containers, not one. Anyways, that shipping manifest is confidential.”

“Not the cargo containers,” Peter clarified. “The smaller box that was handed off and went into the cab.”

The man’s face smoothed back over into a blank mask of his own. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he said flatly.

“Okay, I’m officially bored with the tough-guy patter!” interjected Deadpool. “This is taking too long.” He brushed past Peter and made his way around the desk, brisk walk dropping into a swagger as he rounded the piece of furniture. Dave scooted his chair back minutely.

“One more time, just for kicks. What’s in the bo-ox?” he asked in a voice that was probably supposed to be an impression of Brad Pitt.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Dave repeated staunchly, sliding his swivel chair back a couple of inches.

“Well, you guys heard ‘im! Your Honor,” this directed at Peter, “let the record show that I asked nice first.” Peter’s Spidey-Sense went from a background tingle to a sharp, warning pain so quickly that he was briefly disoriented.

That was just enough time for the mercenary to pull a wicked-looking blade from its sheath, kick a heel out to pivot the occupied chair closer to the desk, and stab the knife into the cheap particleboard — right through the Alpha’s hand.

The dock supervisor’s eyes bugged out and his face drained of color in the brief millisecond he had to take in the wound. The pinned hand twitched involuntarily, bursting the bubble of stillness. The man screamed, voice rough and cracking. The crotch of his jumpsuit darkened, and the smell of urine quickly permeated the air.

“You know, just one time I would love to stick someone’s hand to a desk with a knife without them pissing their pants,” Deadpool commented conversationally. “Really, where’s the professionalism?”

Peter gaped in horror at the blood welling up slowly around the knife wound, the coppery smell mixing with the tang of uric acid in the air so thickly he could almost taste it.

“What the f — heck are you doing?” he demanded. He seized Deadpool by the bicep and strong-armed him away from the dock supervisor, ignoring the urge to slap a hand over his neck in response to the fresh zing of his Spidey-Sense.

The blank panda eyes of Deadpool’s mask met Peter’s reflective white lenses. “My job. You brought me along so you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty. What, you want to wait outside or something?”

Peter’s grip on the mercenary’s arm tightened. “Your job? I invited you to this stakeout because we’re working together! Jesus!” He scrubbed viciously at the back of his neck, which was still tingling like mad.

“Oh. Huh.” Deadpool paused for a moment, seeming engrossed in another one of his interminable internal dialogues.“My bad. So that guy’s still bleeding all over the table. You want to do something about that or?” Deadpool asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. Peter glared at him. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! It’s not even a serrated knife.”

The young hero shoved past the mercenary, heedless of his sense’s low tingle. The dock supervisor had passed out while the two of them had been arguing. He put careful pressure on the man’s wounded hand, pulling the knife free and webbing the hole shut. He’d have some serious scar tissue, but nothing fatal.

Peter gestured at the unconscious man. “Not only was that horrible and probably traumatizing, this guy is in no condition to tell anyone anything now, even if I could persuade him that we were good guys and not murderous psychopaths,” he lectured. “Now I’m going to have to do a lot of legwork to make up for it, and we might not be able to find out anything until there’s another shipment. If there’s another shipment.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you have the moral high ground, Anakin. I get it.” Deadpool waved dismissively as he followed the hero out of the building and past the still-blinded security cameras. After almost a minute of silence (probably some kind of record for the mercenary), he started up again. “Real quick though, while we’re on the subject.”

“What?” Peter snapped as he climbed the chain-link fence around the outside of the industrial lot.

“Say what you will about my tactics, they work,” retorted Deadpool. “So I stab a few civilians, maybe end up with a little non-Nazi collateral damage when I’m blowing up a Hydra base. At least when I take someone down, they stay down. T-Ray doesn’t count, he was literally powered by dark magic and vengeance.” The latter sentence, utter nonsense to Peter, was hissed over the Omega’s shoulder.

“What exactly is your point?” Peter asked through gritted teeth, darting into a nearby alley to climb a less-exposed wall. His Spidey-Sense was buzzing again, an itch on the back of his neck and down his spine that was quickly turning into an ache.

The merc climbed up the fire escape after him. “How many people have died because none of you hero types will get blood on your hands to just stop someone like Massacre permanently? Because you wouldn’t play hardball with the Goblin for how long? Or how about all the times you’ve tried to talk down Ock from his latest scheme instead of ripping those tentacles right off him?”

Making it to the top of the building during Deadpool’s rant, Peter vaulted over the parapet and whirled to face him. Since the man had mentioned the Green Goblin during his lecture, Peter had felt his anger and adrenaline skyrocket.

“And what would you know about making those choices?” he growled, gripping the concrete so tightly he could feel it crumbling beneath his fingers. His Spidey-Sense spiked, overwhelmed until it was practically shrieking at him, almost enough to make him claw at his skin to make it stop. “When have you ever exercised self-control to protect innocent people from becoming unnecessary casualties? You’ve never needed to save someone instead of killing them!”

“You’re right,” Deadpool responded coolly. “Because I understand that there’s no point. I’m not the sh*tty Alpha-wannabe who goes on about how good and righteous I am, then starts growling and gnashing his teeth down at the Omega who dares to disagree with you.”

“That’s not what is happening here,” Peter shot back defensively, tightening his jaw.

“Sure, Webs,” the mercenary dismissed, his tone calm and even. “And I’m sure you’re a totally chill, well-adjusted Beta who totally doesn’t have a pathetic Alpha-envy complex under that mask. All that time you spend swinging around the city in spandex totally isn’t to make up for your absolute failure in the rest of your life.”

Peter snarled wordlessly in the Omega’s direction, lips curled and fangs bared, hidden as they still were beneath his mask. More concrete crumbled beneath his fingers. Deadpool laughed.

Peter shoved himself backward and turned away. He was so riled up that his own pheromones probably would have made him feel sick if he wasn’t wearing the suit to contain and filter them. He ran to the opposite end of the roof and leaped off.

The Alpha found himself tearing northeast across the low skyline, heading instinctually toward Forest Hills and safe haven in his distress. He slowed intentionally, vaulting high and letting himself drop just a few feet above the sidewalk before catching himself and thwipping past. His new trajectory turned a little further south, toward another industrial area of the city.

Even once he’d stopped making his way through the city at full speed, the hero found himself unable to catch his breath, Deadpool’s accusations ringing in his ears. He put work in every day, talking people down from violent situations, avoiding leaving someone for the cops to pick up unless he didn’t see another choice. He made the choice not to kill. After all, he had made a promise to Uncle Ben to live up to his responsibilities because he knew that sometimes people — people like Harry or Curt — really could get better. He wasn’t some naive kid or testosterone-driven Alpha making these choices, or, or some angry Beta with a chip on his shoulder.

Peter’s fingers itched even as he flipped from web to web, limbs thrumming with anxious energy, breath still coming in pants. Still rattled, unable to concentrate on anything but the mercenary’s words and the reminder of how he’d failed so many people, starting with Gwen and Ben. He dropped to the ground in a mostly deserted part of the industrial zone, once the buildings got too low to easily swing between. Empty this early in the day probably meant abandoned. Good.

A few blocks in, he found what he was looking for. The precast concrete panels of the building were already spalling, and the “for sale” signs had been there so long that they’d become just as weather-faded and graffiti-tagged as the rest of the building. A side door was forced open easily enough, and he slipped inside with clenched fists and another attempt at a deep breath.

It might have only been fifteen minutes since Peter had walked into the abandoned warehouse, or it might have been hours. He was still unable to catch his breath or soothe the harsh growl reverberating through his chest, but at least now the buzzing under his skin was dulled by the ache in his fists and feet. He’d managed to do some respectable damage to a few interior walls and one or two pieces of leftover manufacturing equipment before his racing thoughts were loud enough to overpower the sound of screeching metal.

“Spidey? Spider-Man? Helloooo?” All right, apparently, something besides his own loud thoughts had caught his attention after all. His Spidey-Sense was still so oversensitive from distress that he’d been intentionally suppressing the normal cue that there was someone else nearby.

“Hey, Spidey? I’m pretty sure I saw you come in the — ” The voice cut short as Deadpool walked into the manufacturing space. Peter looked up from the twisted pieces of metal heaped around him to eye the mercenary. “Ummm, how ya doing over there, Webs? Okay?” he asked warily.

The cautious tone, strange out of the mouth of the brash, overly crass man, prompted Peter to more fully assess the wreckage surrounding him. He looked around at the rather impressive heap of rubble, absently wiping concrete dust off his gloves. When Deadpool took a hesitant step forward, the hero’s head jerked up and he backed up automatically, his body in tune with his overwrought Spidey-Sense now that he wasn’t actively ignoring it.

The mercenary halted and held his hands up. “Right, it’s clobberin’ time. Reading you loud and clear. I’ll stay on this side of the scrap heap. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know if this was already trashed when you got here, would you?”

“What do you want?” Peter rasped, finally finding his voice. “Did you follow me?” If the merc was able to tail Spider-Man that easily, it would be one more thing for Peter Parker to worry about once the mask was off.

“Bold of you to assume I’d need to follow you when I can just follow the #SpideySpotting tag on Twitter while you’re on the job.” Deadpool waved a rather battered-looking phone at the hero.

Peter grunted and shrugged one shoulder. “All right, so why are you here, Deadpool? You made your point on my inadequate performance of both hero work and dynamic quite clearly.”

“Yeah. About that,” said Deadpool. Peter waited, expectant and still but for the clenching and unclenching of his aching fists. Finally, the merc spoke again. “Why’d you get all worked up over it, anyway? No one counts my opinion for sh*t, least of all you.” He leaned against one of the few workbenches still intact with exaggerated casualness.

“You have no idea, do you?” the exhausted hero growled lowly. The Omega mercenary flinched minutely, and Peter automatically backed up a few steps, finding himself halting against a steel support beam. As he spoke, he hauled his tired body up to cling to the beam, well out of katana reach if Deadpool’s strange mood shifted again and he decided to reintroduce Peter to “the Olsen twins.”

“Do you know what happens if someone like me isn’t careful all the time, Deadpool? What can happen if I don’t keep myself in check?” Peter continued. He gestured at the rubble below. “Look at this. What do you think I could do to a person without even trying? Without even meaning to?”

Deadpool co*cked his head, looking puzzled. “What does that have to do with — ”

“You talk a big game about how I do my work for someone who won’t touch the whole ‘hero’ game himself,” Peter cut him off. “I knew the Goblin, and I should have been able to save him. If I were better at this, people wouldn’t have gotten hurt because they got in the way of Spider-Man’s enemies.”

“You know, that sounds weird when you say it with your mask on and absolutely no context as to your quote-unquote ‘secret identity,’” the merc interjected. Peter ignored the interruption again as the bubble of pent-up fear and guilt popped and washed over him.

“Clearly I’m just not going to live up to your standards. You’ll just have to live with that, I guess because my standards are higher. I have to try to save everyone. I have to be so careful with everyone,” Peter emphasized.

“Live with it, huh?” Deadpool raised an eyebrow.

Peter went on, “We don’t have to keep working on this case together. I have enough information now that I think I’ve got it handled. You don’t have to worry about trying to do things my way anymore. Just leave my city.”

“Are you done with the growling and the ranting?” Deadpool asked, then waited to see if Peter had anything to add. After a few moments of silence, he continued. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I just spent the last hour and a half tracking down your stupid, perfect Spider-ass. I may, just possibly, have made some incorrect assumptions about why you brought me with you, and then responded to you with a little bit more vitriol than necessary. Maybe. A teensy bit.”

“A teensy bit,” Peter repeated, brow furrowed. “Overreacted.”

“Yeah, Webs, overreacted. You’re a pretty good little bug. So, we good?”

Peter’s whole body sagged back against the steel. “I might have also… overreacted.”

“Great!” The mercenary clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Sounds like we’re done here unless you want to bust any more walls up.”

“I think I’m good. I guess I’ll see you for patrol later this week?”

“Sure. I’ll have my people call your people. Unless, uh, you want to come over, have a couple of pineapple and olive pizzas, hop on the Xbox? We can play some Cuphead, take the real ultimate test of teamwork,” Deadpool rambled.

“I’m, uh, I’m good, actually,” Peter said, faltering a little even as he spoke. “Nothing personal. Raincheck?”

The merc’s shoulders slumped the tiniest bit, and he crossed his arm. “Oh. Sure thing,” he said flatly, recovering quickly and already turning to walk out. “See you for patrol.”

Peter shot a web to catch and slow the larger man, who sidestepped it deftly, but at least paused and turned back to face him. “Look, I mean it. I’m sorry,” Peter sighed. “But I really can’t. It’s not a ‘you’ thing. I’m not going to be calm enough to unstick from this pillar for, like, an hour.” That wasn’t strictly true, but he was still way too overstimulated and upset to play nice, especially in whatever disaster passed for a home to Deadpool.

The words were at least enough to mollify him for now. “Yeah, yeah, all right. But it’s going to start getting weird when you run out of excuses, Spidey.”

“I’m not — ” Peter began to protest.

“Nah, I’m just f*cking with you. See you around, Webs.” The merc finally left, and Peter breathed deeply. That might have been the first time he’d worked with anyone other than the Four and not ended a fight feeling like he needed to break something, and even teaming up with Johnny tended to get a little, well, stormy. Heck, Peter actually felt more relaxed, a little less like he was ready to jump out of his skin.

“Yeah, I don’t have time to unpack all of that,” he muttered, dropping his head back down onto his knees. He crouched there for a while, listening to something skittering around in the dark below. That guilty, paranoid prickling feeling was back.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Wade could feel his anger rising as he argued with Spider-Man, a hot, twisting thing that started in his gut and rose until he was practically choking on the bitterness of it. The asshole had dragged him out on an interrogation and then dared to be surprised that Wade assumed he was being brought along to exercise his skills. Then on top of that, the kid was trying to convince Wade that his so-called “heroic” way of doing things was best, full stop, bar none, by digging in about every sh*tty choice Wade had ever had to make like he knew anything about it.

『Weren’t you the one who decided you wanted to hang out with Spider-Man so badly that you were willing to try out his Sexy Savior Complex routine?』

That might have been true, but it was still beside the f*cking point.

Wade tuned back in for the end of the angry little spider’s rant, then replied icily, “You’re right. Because I understand that there’s no point. I’m not the sh*tty Alpha-wannabe who goes on about how good and righteous I am, then starts growling and gnashing his teeth down at the Omega who dares to disagree with you.”

“That’s not what is happening here,” the webslinger snapped.

“Sure, Webs,” Wade said. “And I’m sure you’re a totally chill, well-adjusted Beta who totally doesn’t have a pathetic Alpha-envy complex under that mask.”

「Why are we so sure he’s a Beta, again?」

『Have you looked at him? That Goody Two-Shoes is, what, five-foot-nine, maybe five-foot-elevenmax? And can’t weigh over 175 soaking wet. Without the super strength, he’d just be some Beta twunk.』

「I don’t know, I think he’d probably be a full-on hunk if he had to exercise his actual strength more than once every supervillain fight.」

The yellow box was putting way too much thought into Wade’s angry accusations and assumptions about someone else’s dynamic in the middle of an argument. Plenty used to the distraction of the boxes’ sidebars, Wade continued to taunt the hero without missing a beat. “All that time you spend swinging around the city in spandex totally isn’t to make up for your absolute failure in the rest of your life.”

Spidey snarled at Wade, who couldn’t help but laugh. So much for all that heroic self-control. Without warning, the spider ran to the opposite end of the roof and leaped off.

Wade leaned over the edge just enough to confirm that the webhead was swinging away erratically. No use following the hero until he figured out where he was going, then.

「Oh, is that what we’re doing? I thought you were mad at him.」

The merc scowled. “I am mad at him. He’s a naive f*cking idiot, and he’s probably going to get me almost-killed very dramatically and at least twice before breaking my heart spectacularly and tragically by throwing his half of our 'Best Crimefighters' charm necklaces into the gutter.”

『Has anyone ever told you that you project a little bit? Jesus.』

Wade’s scowl deepened in response. He climbed down the fire escape and pulled out his phone to check Twitter for his new favorite taco truck’s current location⏤fine, and any posts in the #SpideySpotting tag. Might as well grab a snack before trying to hunt down the Spider-Baby.

『I still don’t understand why you’re going after him. You were right. Our way is better, and at least our enemies take longer to get rebooted if they do at all. What’s the point of all this?』

「Spider-Booty.Duh.」

“Spider-Man isn’t going to f*ck us,” Wade muttered, earning a rather shellshocked look from a woman who was unlucky enough to be pressed against him for a few moments as the crowd moved along the sidewalk.

「Never say never! Also, money.」

『I’m… impressed that you remembered that. Ugh, I guess if you manage to make up with the spider, wemight have the chance to stick around until SHIELD is more likely to throw you a bone than shoot you on sight. That plan is looking worse and worse every day.』

“It’s worked so far, hasn’t it?” Wade took the blank boxes as begrudging agreement.

『“Worked” is a strong word for it.』

It still wasn’t the dumbest plan he’d ever had.

「Low bar.」

He’d screwed his last attempt at getting an in as a more trusted SHIELD contractor when he’d blown up the Oscorp lab, which would have been fine if he hadn’t then handed over the evidence to Doctor Storm instead of Agent Adsit. Anyway, when Webs wasn’t wasting energy trying to make Wade feel like crap, they almost got along.

To Spider-Man’s credit, it still took Wade a couple of hours to find the industrial area he’d run off to, although finding the actual building wasn’t nearly as difficult. Wade assumed it was the one with a bunch of loud noises coming out of it.

The merc slipped in through a cracked side door of the plant, listening carefully. Trust Spidey to swing off in a pout and end up extending his patrol time. Still, helping him finish clean-up on whatever Maggia hideout it sounded like he’d stumbled onto was way preferable than having to talk out some kind of… apology. Not that he had anything to be sorry for.

Wade made his way closer to the noise, finally reaching a mostly open bay door that led to what must have once been a manufacturing space. He unsnapped both thigh holsters and plastered himself against the wall, then peered around the corner. Rather than the fight scene he’d been expecting, all he saw was the webslinger thrashing the crap out of some industrial equipment that probably used to have something to do with material fabrication before it got turned into bespoke scrap metal.

『What the f*ck?』

「How do we get him to tearyou apart like that?」

“The answer to your first question is shaddap.”

Wade wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with the webslinger in such a worked-up state. He couldn’t imagine how thickly the man’s pheromones would be pouring out, even if he were just a Beta. Without the filters in his suit (at least, he assumed Spidey’s suit had some kind of fancy scent blockers, or he’d know for sure what dynamic the guy was), the hero would likely be putting out enough to push Wade right into an anxiety attack.

All right, this called for an entirely different approach. Wade re-snapped his holsters, adopted a casual swagger, and took a deep breath before approaching Spidey’s location with a much more concerted effort at making a racket of his own. No reason to get impaled by a piece of rebar or something unless absolutely necessary.

“Spidey? Spider-Man? Helloooo?” he called out melodramatically, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Spidey? I’m pretty sure I saw you come in he — ”

Wade cut theatrics as soon as the webhead noticed him. He made a hesitant overture and was surprised when Spidey responded by backing down instead of getting in his face again. It wasn’t fun to be on the receiving end of a morality lecture from yet another guilty hero, but it certainly wasn’t the worst one to be thrown at him.

Then, Spider-Man tried to tell him to drop the case and leave the city like it hadn’t begun in the first place because Wade got sloppy and missed a few Weapon X connections. That wasn’t happening.

「Especially not after we went through all that trouble to get an apartment. Real estate agents and private property owners are thereal f*cking evil.」

The only way the stubborn idiot spider was going to let Wade keep working with him was if Wade surprised him into listening. He didn’t have to entirely mean an apology to toss it out there and throw the hero off balance, and Spidey’s natural do-gooder response was to make amends. There, problem solved.

Then Wade’s mouth went and got ahead of him without his input. “Unless, uh, you want to come over, have a couple of pineapple and olive pizzas, hop on the Xbox?” he heard himself ask. And then he just kept talking. Why was he still talking? He wasn’t even entirely sure what he said after that, but at least the Merc with the Mouth™ managed to talk himself out of whatever hole he’d just dug when Spider-Man awkwardly refused.

『Why did you just invite Spider-Man to our apartment? Where exactly did you think that was going to go?』

「I’ll tell you where Iwanted it to go. Did you see how he ripped apart that steel sheeting? Guh.」

“I don’t know why I did that, and please don’t remind me,” Wade groaned once he’d made it back out of the building. “About the apartment or the — the that.”

『You’re making this too easy for me.』

Wade dragged a hand across his face, once again groaning torturously. “I’m too tired to jerk off to the Spider-booty and kill myself as a result of unceasing mental torment capped off by embarrassing myself in front of my unofficial favorite hero again. Figure it out amongst yourselves.”

「DIBS!」

『Hey, I was — 』

「I saiddibs.」

It took Wade almost two weeks of debating with himself and the boxes to finally show up for one of Spidey’s patrols again. He still might have skulked off back to the DeadHut and gone after any other loose Weapon X threads on his own, if he hadn’t had a surprise visitor waiting in his apartment when he returned to his newly leased apartment on one Wednesday afternoon.

“Heard you’ve been hanging out with Spider-Man,” Agent Preston commented, maintaining an expression of practiced neutrality as she leaned against the wall and neatly blocked the hallway to the bedroom. Her scent didn’t waver at all, but that was unsurprising, considering her Life Model Decoy only replicated her original body’s scent and Wade had seen plenty of her ability to control the synthetic pheromones she expelled firsthand.

“What about it, Pres-bot?” Wade asked, striving to match her casual tone. He didn’t draw any weapons, but he made no move to disarm either. Couldn’t exactly tell how a lady in an LMD felt about you if she didn’t want you to.

“Nothing. Hill and Coulson like it when all the kids get along with each other, in case we need more than two of you at a time. Especially the kids who like to quit every damn team they end up on.”

“Hey, that’s not true! I usually get fired. One time literally.”

“Not you.” Emily tilted her face toward the ceiling like she was asking the mildew for strength. “The wallcrawler.”

Wade’s eyebrows rose under his mask. That was new information. “Is that why you’re here?” he cooed, fanning himself. “Encouraging me to start up a Team Red? I’m sure that between the two of us, Spidey and I could annoy Daredevil into joining.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Wade. I’m here because SHIELD is considering a contract for you. If we do make an offer, I’ll be your handler again. You could try not to get my neck broken, this time.”

『Well, that sure was fast. And easy. I don’t like it.』

“What, like, a real contract?” Wade asked, stupefied.

Emily rolled dark brown eyes, neutral expression melting quickly with the familiar ease of their interaction and Wade’s continued lax stance. “Of course not. You said you had something for us and then ghosted Adsit and me without even bothering to leave the city. Add that to a quote un-quote ‘mysterious incident’ at the Oscorp tower, and Coulson doesn’t trust you with the spider, no matter how much goodwill you’ve built up since we took down Gorman. If our current contractor is unable to complete the mission satisfactorily and you’ve managed to stick around long enough, we’ll be offering it to you. Coulson thought it would only be fair to let you know ahead of time. He’s got this whole thing now about giving people a second — or fifth — chance.” She pushed herself off the wall and skirted around Wade to make her way to the door. “So now you know. Play nice with Spider-Man, Wade. And stop exploding things.”

“I didn’t agree to anything!” Wade called after the agent. She waved a hand without bothering to look back.

「She sure clocked you, huh?」

“Shut the f*ck up.”

A few days later found Wade, grappling gun in hand, scrambling up the side of a building in hopes that he’d gotten there before the webslinger swung off after some other criminal. Spider-Man was waiting for him at the top, crouched on a utility box.

“Wasn’t sure you were still in town, after all, Deadpool.” The wallcrawler rubbed the back of his neck.

“Looks like I am,” Wade agreed.

“Gonna keep it in your pants this time?”

“The Desert Eagles? Probably. My dick? No promises.”

“Uh-huh. You coming?” Spidey leaped off the roof into the night. Swearing a blue streak, the mercenary followed.

Wade bent and grabbed his knee with one hand, clutching at his chest with the other and wheezing. Another month of following the webhead around had landed him more lectures than he’d bothered to sit through since grade school. Well, that and the sense that he was on the receiving end of Tragically Disappointed Puppy Dog Eyes™ every time he overshot Spidey’s nebulous approach to “appropriate use of force” and “do you have to use guns to solve literally all of your problems, Deadpool.” That, along with the occasional dig from White that he wouldn’t be able to keep it together long enough to get the webhead to go a day without throwing him, much less long enough to make his plan work long enough to get SHIELD off his back and into his checking account balance.

「I’m starting to think this won’t be easy money. Also, White just brought the concept oftaxes to my attention.」

The mercenary finally recovered his breath enough to right himself and continue running after Spidey, who had swung on ahead. He followed the sounds of shouting and meat hitting concrete to a narrow light-well between two buildings across the road.

Wade reached the mouth of the alley in time to see Spider-Man neatly dodge an attack by an enthusiastically knife-wielding young lady. The hero webbed her and tugged, sidestepping the rebounding woman as she crashed into two of her three teammates. The trio went sprawling, and Spidey was able to web one of them to the dumpster before the other two had recovered.

The fourth member of the little gang, unluckily for him, had tried to run away from the scene and had instead run straight into Wade. “Hey now! Where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave before you listen to Spidey’s whole ‘I’m very disappointed in your life choices and I believe you can do better’ lecture!” he scolded gleefully as he pulled his KA-BAR from its thigh sheathe. Where was the entertainment if he didn’t let them feel like they had a fighting chance? “If I don’t get to skip it, then you sure as hell don’t either.”

The merc took a menacing step forward, trying not to grin as the little vandal automatically retreated. “What did y’all do anyway to get Webs on your asses?” he asked, gesturing with the knife.

The superhero in question obviously heard since he shouted over at Wade from his entanglement with the remaining pair of hooligans, “Caught ‘em selling to some high schoolers, and wouldn’t you know it? I don’t think any of these guys have the proper medical license for that! What do you think?”

He webbed the other young woman, who had been doing her best to bash him with what looked like a set of brass knuckles, to the dumpster. “This lady look like a pharmacist to you?”

“You know, I can’t say that she does,” Wade growled, no longer feeling the fun and games. “Selling drugs to kids? You really should make better life choices,” he informed the dealer in front of him, who started backing down the alley more quickly.

“Man, I don’t know what these kids think they’re doing with these, these k-pins and jellies and stuff,” Spidey commented with a rueful shake of his head.

“Do you even appreciate how weird it is to hear outdated slang terms for drugs come out of Spider-Man’s mouth like some common raver?” Wade asked.

“Hey man, we’re just taking advantage of an existing market!” protested the dealer whom Wade had been menacing, unwisely bringing Wade’s attention back to him. The merc hefted his blade into a more comfortable grip before throwing it right past his head. Wade tried not to look too disappointed — he’d been aiming for the ear. The guy’s knees gave out, and he dropped to the ground with a strangled yelp.

“Huh. Good job, ‘Pool,” Spidey said to Wade, sounding a little surprised, then webbed the guy up to the dumpster along with his friends and began his lecture.

To Wade’s complete lack of surprise, the webhead recognized the not-pharmacist by name when she wasn’t wailing on him. “Petra, we talked about this. You had a whole support network. What happened?”

“New source. Could say we got a killer offer.” That was all Spidey was able to get out of her before she clammed up. They still had to listen to the lecture.

「Better them than us.」

“No no no, you put the money in the ATM,” Wade chided the masked figure. “Do you need me to show you? Here, where’s your debit card?”

The guy turned to face Wade, pulling a gun and waving it around sloppily. “Back off, dude!” he yelled, voice cracking on the last word. Christ, he was just a kid.

Wade pulled his gun. “I don’t actually want to shoot you, so how about you just come over here with me?”

“I said back off!” The gun wavered but stayed aimed at Wade.

The merc sighed. “Okay. We’ll do it the hard way. Put that sh*t down so I don’t have to shoot you and upset my babysitter.” He waved the Desert Eagle. “He told me I did a good job the other day. Now I have, like, a streak to keep up, or something.”

“You think I’m not f*ckin’ serious here, man? ” the kid yelled, voice cracking a little. He started messing with the ATM again, half his attention still trained on Wade.

“Okay, okay. Let’s chill. Let’s uh, talk about this, okay? What’s going on here, man?”

“The f*ck you think, asshole?”

“Okay, fair. Is there something, I mean, can I help you with anything?” Wade didn’t want to shoot a kid. Also, banks were evil and probably deserved to have their ATMs robbed. That’s right, the boxes weren’t the only comrades here.

「Private property isfake.」

『You’re getting sidetracked.』

“I said back the f*ck up, clown-ass punk!”

Then Wade got shot in the thigh by a child, which was why Spidey showed up to find big, bad Deadpool holding mismatched guns in each hand doing his best to give said child a case of shaken baby syndrome.

“Whoa, whoa! Put the kid down, Deadpool. What’s going on here?”

“This motherf*cker is harassing me!” the kid yelled, voice cracking again.

“Hey! This twelve-year-old just shot me in the leg! This isn’t even my gun!” Wade protested, brandishing the peashooter in his left hand.

“I’m fifteen!”

“Okay!” Spidey shouted, holding up a hand. “All right. Okay. Let’s unpack this somewhere else. You hungry, buddy?”

The kid nodded.

“Great.” Webs turned to Wade. “How about you, big guy?”

Somehow Wade ended up buying dinner for himself, Spidey, and the literal baby who’d shot him in the leg.

「I like it when Spidey calls you “big guy.”」

『You would. Y’know, Nessa called him that too.』

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Peter wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting when he’d committed himself to a five-hour round trip on the Long Island Railroad and an Ooper ride to Wellbridge Addiction Treatment and Research, but the well-kept lawn, meandering paths, and sprawling campus of Stripped Classical-wannabe buildings certainly hadn’t been it. The scariest thing about it had been the cost of the Ooper ride-share (which was nothing to sniff at, considering Peter had been running out of decent shots to sell the Bugle since he’d started cooperating with Deadpool, seeing as he couldn’t exactly do his usual set-up with the merc tagging along).

The hero ran his hands through his hair one last time, steadying himself as he prepared to meet with his amnesiac friend-turned-enemy-turned-casualty-of-Spider-Man, then walked through the doors of the institution’s main building. His Spidey-Sense squawked briefly as he crossed the threshold, making him slap a hand to his neck, but it subsided just as quickly.

The interior of the building was bright, with a mix of natural light and warm electric sconces that ran around the edges of the reception area. His sneakers squeaked across the parquet flooring as he approached the front desk.

The receptionist smiled at him, all professional blandness framed by a curtain of long, black hair. Their nose wrinkled slightly as he approached, but he couldn’t blame them. He was so anxious he could feel his heart pounding and a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. It couldn’t be fun to be on the receiving end of those pheromones, especially not from an Alpha mutate. Nonetheless, they were perfectly pleasant as they greeted him.

“Hello, sir. Welcome to Wellbridge! Will you be joining us as a guest or are you simply visiting?” they asked. The Alpha’s smile was still affixed to their face, but it didn’t create so much as a wrinkle around their elongated eyes.

Guest? Peter was slightly bewildered for a moment. Of course, he shouldn’t have been surprised that if Harry was sent to an inpatient facility, it was going to be somewhere posh and euphemistic enough to refer to their patients as guests. “Um, I’m just visiting someone,” he answered.

“Wonderful. I'll just need to see your driver’s license and have you fill out this form, and I can give you a visitor badge. And who might you be visiting today, so we can let them know you’ve arrived?” they questioned, eyes flicking up to look at him only momentarily as they slid a few sheets of paper across the desk before going right back to their screen.

“My, um, my friend Harry — uh, Harry Osborn?” Peter sounded uncertain even to himself as he handed over his state ID. Was he going to get kicked out?

“Oh, Mister Parker!” the receptionist said as they looked at his ID, a quirked eyebrow the first break in their professional façade. “No need to fill out any papers. Mister Osborn already has you on his list of pre-approved visitors. I’ll print out your badge and someone will escort you to Mister Osborn’s suite right away.” They swiveled around to grab something from the printer and slid it into a clip-on badge holder. They handed off the visitor’s badge, then fiddled with something behind the counter that sounded like the squelch and crackle of a short-range walkie-talkie.

Still somewhat nonplussed at the fact that he was even on Harry’s list of visitors, considering the one and only time he’d visited his former — or at least, that’s what he’d assumed at the time — friend in the hospital over a year beforehand, Harry had still been in a medically induced coma, Peter took his visitor’s badge from the receptionist and clipped it to his sweater vest.

“Claudia is on her way to the north wing, so she’ll go ahead and show you to Mister Osborn’s private suite.” They waved in the direction of a tall, pale orderly in bright turquoise scrubs who was approaching from Peter’s left.

The orderly waved in return, and Peter saw that she was indeed holding a walkie in her hand, which she clipped to the top of her pants by the time she arrived in the reception area. “Hey there, Echo! How’re y’all doing over here this fine morning?” she asked warmly, smiling at the receptionist — Echo. “Looks like a slow day so far.”

“I suppose so,” Echo nodded before returning their focus to their computer screen. “Claudia, could you please show Mister Parker to Mister Osborn’s suite on your way back to the rehabilitation space?”

“Anything for my favorite receptionist,” the tall orderly replied with a wink. The briefest flash of pheromones indicating an interested Omega wafted toward Peter; if he hadn’t been enhanced, he likely wouldn’t have been able to even sense any indication of her designation (or apparent crush on the receptionist) under the medical-grade scent blockers. “If you don’t mind following me, Mister — uh, Parker, was it? — we can head on out.”

“Sure thing.” Peter trailed along after the pale Omega woman as she headed out of reception, his Spidey-Sense once again tingling and stopping several times. What on earth was going on? He had to assume that it was simply because he was going to see Harry, whom Peter still wouldn’t be fully convinced had lost all of his Goblin-associated enhancements and memories until he saw him.

The orderly hummed quietly as the two of them took an elevator to the second floor and walked down a long hallway in the building’s north wing, but didn’t try to engage him in small talk, which he quite honestly appreciated. He was too nervous about actually seeing Harry to carry on a proper conversation. Maybe she could sense it on him as the receptionist had, and was simply being kind.

Claudia stopped in front of a door three-quarters of the way down the corridor and knocked. “Mister Osborn? You have a visitor, sir.” She turned back to Peter. “I’ll just leave the two of you to it, shall I?”

As the orderly retreated, Peter heard someone approach the door. It swung open, revealing his former best friend, clad in comfortable-looking, yet well-fitted and fashionable (of course), designer athleisure wear.

Harry’s eyes widened in pleased surprise as he took in the sight of his visitor. “Pete?”

The hero followed his friend into the latter’s rooms, taking in the minimalist design of the space, soft-looking materials, and splashes of teal accenting both the furniture and abstract art. He let out a low whistle. “Only you could go to rehab somewhere trendier than any club I’ve ever been to,” he said, then froze. He wasn’t exactly on joking terms with the guy whose skull he had almost let get smashed open on the pavement while said guy was trying to kill him.

To his surprise, Harry laughed delightedly. “You’ve never been to a club in your life.”

“That’s not true, I was in the robotics and chess clubs in high school,” Peter quipped back.

Harry laughed again as he settled into a couch cushion. “God help me, I missed your dumb, disaster ass. Feels like I haven’t talked to you in years.”

They hadn’t talked to each other in years, not really. Harry had almost entirely stopped speaking to Peter long before he’d learned the latter was Spider-Man, struggling with terrible coping mechanisms for his grief and (rightfully) blaming it all on the webslinger. He’d blamed Peter’s struggle to be there for him as much as he should on the Alpha’s dynamic, rather than on Peter’s poor attempts to handle his mourning over Gwen and Norman.

“Yeah, well, I took all the disaster with me just so you could be on the safe side, pal. I’m sorry I took so long to visit. School and stuff, y’know.” The way they still managed fall right back into conversing and gentle ribbing, it was almost as if Peter could pretend nothing had even happened between them — like Harry’s father had never engineered a situation where Peter had been responsible for both his death and that of Peter’s lover, like Peter had never failed to be there afterward when Harry needed him out of his own guilt and grief, like Harry hadn’t tried to kill him to avenge Norman’s death and Peter had almost let him.

“Yeah, MJ said you’re teaching some poor undergraduates while you’re working on your thesis. I hope you’re being nicer to them than our chem TA was to us,” the Beta said, oblivious to Peter’s flash of despondency.

Get your sh*t together and do what you came here to do, Parker. “Oh, she — oh yeah, May must have told her. I don’t, uh, have time to get home that much. Haven’t seen Mary Jane in a while either,” Peter admitted sheepishly.

“See, this is why I told Dad I didn’t want to get a STEM Ph.D. to go along with the business degree,” said Harry, sounding fond and almost a little wistful. “Guess at least that argument was put to rest with him.”

The Alpha winced internally at the forthright mention of Norman, even five years after the man’s death. However, not even a shadow of the bloodlust and fury he’d seen on Harry’s face once he’d finally learned of Peter’s betrayal was present.

“Hey, I like what I'm doing,” Peter protested mildly, trying to recover. “It works for me. How’ve, uh, how’ve you been, man?”

“I mean…” Harry gestured around him. “It’s been a little rough. I’ve had a lot to work through, with my dad and the ways I was handling it. That’s not even mentioning all the weird stuff that comes from huge, random chunks of my recent memories being all screwy because of the accident.”

“I take it you’re not, uh, pulling a Fisk and orchestrating your vast empire from the inside?” The brunet laughed weakly.

“Nah, the board’s running things. CFO’s got power of attorney for Oscorp until I’m back in business. Doesn’t exactly inspire investor confidence for the owner of the company to take such an extended vacation. Probably better for me not to have to worry about it anyway.”

“So you’re not doing anything with the business?”

“Buddy, I don’t even have access to my work email from in here.” Well, that would be easy enough to prove if Peter looked into it later. He was more and more convinced that Harry had nothing to do with the new Goblin’s activity. The question was, who was around him enough to even access his system credentials? The only person Peter could think of was MJ, and there was no way any of this had anything to do with MJ.

Peter’s Spidey-Sense gave a sharp frisson of warning. Again, there was no one in the room but Harry and himself, and he couldn’t hear anyone or anything outside either. Something hinky had his senses seriously on the fritz, and he had no idea what it could be if it wasn’t his proximity to Harry himself.

“O-oh. I guess that makes sense. You been keepin’ busy though?” he said, barely catching himself and maintaining the conversation through the sensory overload.

“Yeah, you know. Working on the next great American novel, or whatever. I miss Dad, though. I wish he had time to visit.”

“What?”

Harry had slumped over in his seat, eyes a little glazed over. “Yeah, he hasn’t come to visit yet. Maybe he’s finally reached his threshold for being disappointed in me.”

Uh, Har — ” Peter began.

His Spidey-Sense went off again, even sharper this time. Before he could get out of his seat at Harry’s desk to look around, the door opened, and a dark-haired Beta man with a white lab coat, glasses, and a trim beard came bustling in.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t realize Harry had a visitor,” the man said, breaking into a sharp little smile. “I’m Doctor Hamilton.” He reached out his free hand to shake Peter’s. The name sounded vaguely familiar, though the hero couldn’t quite place it.

As Peter reached to reciprocate the doctor’s handshake, his Spidey-Sense momentarily screamed out and then went silent once again. He winced minutely at the brief but painful warning. “Peter Parker,” he introduced himself shortly, still recovering.

“Wonderful to meet you, Peter,” the doctor responded. He turned to Harry, who still sat listlessly on the couch. “And how are we feeling today, Harry?”

The Osborn heir looked up as Doctor Hamilton spoke directly to him as if just noticing his presence. His stormy blue eyes cleared and crinkled at the edges as he smiled. “Well, hey there, Doc! Is it time to shrink me again already?”

“No, no, I just popped in to say hello and meet your latest visitor,” the psychologist assured. “Your next appointment isn’t until Wednesday.”

“Oh,” Harry said, sounding almost disappointed. “Okay.”

“While I’m here, how have you been sleeping? Have those nightmares gotten any better since our last session?”

Harry brightened again. “Wouldn’t you know it, they have! Looks like all those guided meditation tapes are finally doing the trick after all.” He turned to Peter with more excitement than he’d shown since the hero had stepped away from their initial hug. “Hey Pete, would you believe Doc Hamilton here is the resident expert in hypnotherapy? Isn’t that just the darnedest thing you ever heard?”

“You don’t say?” Peter said agreeably, not paying too strict attention to give his friend some privacy.

“We here at Wellbridge find a non-pharmacological modality to be appropriate in cases where the client has previously struggled with substance abuse or already requires other medications such as anticonvulsants,” explained Doctor Hamilton, warming quickly to the topic. “Hypnosis therapy has a great deal of versatility in both application and result. I’ve recently published a paper on a longitudinal study of its efficacy.”

“Right,” Peter said, a little lost. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust psychologists or any such nonsense. He probably could have benefited from some therapy himself. Unfortunately, superheroing tended to make one allergic to forthrightness in the personal life division, which would have made that pointless. Anyway, he was an engineer, not a doctor, and his Spidey-Sense was still distractingly on the fritz, buzzing and spiking the way it had been doing the few times he’d been patrolling alone in the past weeks since Deadpool came around. “That sounds… interesting?”

“I beg your pardon. I’m afraid I can get a little ahead of myself. At any rate, as I’m sure Harry’s already told you, he’s coming along marvelously with consistent treatment.”

“The doc has an office on the East Side, so he can keep seeing me on the reg once I’m outta here,” Harry explained, still beaming. “We’ve sure covered a lot of ground, huh, Doc?”

“Indeed we have, my boy,” Doctor Hamilton affirmed with a fatherly smile. “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Peter. I’ll come by again later to chat, Harry.” Doctor Hamilton waved and headed out.

“Isn’t he great?” Harry said. “Total nerd. Kind of reminds me of you back when we were in school, Parker.”

“Hey, I seem to recall you being pretty invested in some Trek-based arguments yourself, Har.” Laughed bubbled out of his chest in response to the light teasing, the sound almost startling to himself.

“Yes, but I’m too rich and pretty to be something so pedestrian as a garden-variety nerd. I get to be eccentric,” Harry replied with a lofty wave of his hand. “I guess I can’t give you too much crap for it though. It did get you right in with Gwen Stacy. How’s your girl doing, anyway? She hasn’t come to visit me yet either.”

Peter stared for a moment in shocked silence. He found himself too horrified on an incalculable number of levels to even respond. There wasn’t even a good place to start with a response if Peter had been capable of giving one.

His friend just looked back at him quizzically. After several drawn-out seconds, Harry’s questioning expression twisted with pain and embarrassment, his eyes going wide and his cheeks pinking. “Oh jeez. sh*t. I’m sorry, Pete. I didn’t — That still happens sometimes, I just forgot that she — And I — ”

“It’s fine,” the young hero cut him off tersely. “I understand. I just… I don’t want to talk about her right now.”

The auburn-haired Beta shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, of course. MJ and I, and even Flash too, we sometimes talk about — It’s not the same without you guys. We miss her too. We both miss you, Pete.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Peter tonelessly, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He should have worn more scent-blockers.

“Jesus Christ, I said I was sorry! What else do you want from me?” Harry shot back defensively, mood still as mercurial as it had been before the two of them had stopped speaking. So much for a friendly visit.

“I don’t want anything!” Peter retorted, standing up abruptly.

“Oh, well I’m glad we cleared that up! Thanks for finally taking the time out of your busy schedule to show up and let me know, you Alpha-sized pain in my ass!” Harry threw up his hands. “Maybe you can come back again in another year and see how I’m doing!”

“Harry, I — ”

“Oh look at the time, I’m late for my yoga and meditation class,” Harry cut him off, crossing his arms. “You can leave.” He didn’t move from his place on the couch cushion, and the energy seemed to leak out of him.

Defeated and drained himself, Peter picked up his jacket and walked to the door. “Um… Bye, Har. It was — it was good to see you,” the brunet said tentatively. “I won’t take so long to visit again, I promise.”

“Yeah. Bye,” said Harry listlessly, once again slumped down in his seat on the couch and staring out the window.

Peter softly shut the door and walked back down the corridor, hands jammed in his pockets and head bowed. So much for learning anything about who might have gotten access to Harry’s Oscorp credentials, much less doing much to mend that relationship. Maybe he shouldn’t have come alone.

Not too far away from Harry’s suite, his Spidey-Sense ripped through him in a burning warning. He was so startled that he couldn’t avoid bumping right into Harry’s doctor as he stepped out of another room, knocking the Beta man’s clipboard and a few folders out of his hands. Luckily, the doctor managed to neatly catch everything before it hit the ground.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, Doctor!” Peter exclaimed.

“Oh my, Peter! Not to worry, young man,” the doctor responded with an affable grin. “I’m so glad you were finally able to come to visit us. We weren’t sure you were when you didn’t reply to my initial overture’s on Harry’s behalf.”

Peter abruptly realized why he had recognized the psychologist’s name. Doctor Hamilton had emailed him not too long after the Osborn heir had first begun his stay at Wellbridge, several months beforehand, asking on Harry’s behalf if Peter might visit with his friend and perhaps agree to a therapist-mediated session between the two of them. At the time, Peter had simply not responded, finding himself unprepared for the prospect of any sort of confrontation, especially with a third party present. By the time he’d come back around to the idea, it had been weeks later and he’d decided it would have been strange and awkward to respond.

“You know, it’s been very good for Harry’s progress to have regular visitors in Ms. Watson and Mister Thompson,” the doctor went on, having not noticed anything amiss in the young hero’s demeanor. “I sincerely hope you won’t wait so long before your next visit.”

“Yeah…” Peter trailed off guiltily, still disturbed by Harry’s conflicted response to his presence and his own strangely faulty precognition. “You sure seem to know quite a lot about Harry’s friends, Doctor — uh, Hamilton, right? D’you keep such good track of all your patients?”

“Well, Harry is a special case, isn’t he? Even putting aside Oscorp’s extremely generous donation to our substance abuse research center.”

Peter opened his mouth, all set to question how much Hamilton knew of Harry’s more immediate reasons for inpatient counseling, but the psychologist continued without missing a beat.

“Traumatic brain injuries are no laughing matter on their own, and of course with losing his father and subsequent reliance on benzodiazepines prescribed by an inattentive medical provider in the few years beforehand, the young Osborn’s had quite a rough go of it. Harry is quite lucky to be doing as well as he is and even luckier to have people who love and support him through all the hard work he’s been doing. I’m quite inspired by him, to tell you the truth.” Doctor Hamilton leaned in as he said this last bit as if it were a salacious piece of gossip.

“Right,” said Peter faintly. Of course, Hamilton’s vaguely ominous words had nothing to do with Harry’s affiliation with the Green Goblin moniker and formula. Way to be paranoid again, Parker.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around. Good afternoon,” the doctor nodded to him and walked off down the hall.

Peter slid down the inward-tilting window of the Baxter Building and dropped into the thirty-sixth-floor elevator lobby. He was a little surprised that no one was there to meet him, considering he’d phoned ahead to Ben, but maybe they had their hands full with all the patients still occupying one of the lower floors. At least Reed hadn’t changed the security code to Spidey’s window entry without telling Peter again.

Of course, he really ought to have known better. He only made it a few steps toward Sue’s labs before the elevator opened and Johnny Storm spilled out of it to sweep him into a hug. “Hey there, webhead! Nice of you to come to visit!” the other Alpha said cheerfully, jumping on Peter’s back. “Hey, babe! Come on, I want you to meet somebody!”

A tall Alpha woman with an odd, horizontal band of black color shot through her flame-red hair walked out of the still-open elevator. She looked vaguely familiar, but Peter couldn’t quite place her. She waved shyly at Peter. “Hello.”

Johnny hopped off Peter’s back to stand beside her.

“Hi there, miss. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, at your service.” He gave a brief wave of his own.

“Nice to, ah, meet you properly. My name is Crystal. I suppose we might be seeing a great deal of each other.” She gave him a small smile.

“Good point, Crys. Dude, she just got the sickest powers ever!” Johnny gushed at Peter. “Elemental control. It’s so cool. She knows how to handle a flame if you catch my drift.” He winked ostentatiously and leaned into the young woman.

“Johnny!” Peter and Crystal shouted in unison. At least the Alpha woman sounded amused as she nudged an elbow into the Torch’s ribs.

“I’m starting to realize he’s always like that. He’s lucky he’s so cute,” she said with a laugh. “But yes, he does have a point. The powers are a very new development. I’m still getting used to them, but I look forward to using them to assist Johnny’s family.”

“New powers, huh? I know how that is,” Peter said sympathetically. “You get bit by a radioactive Human Torch?”

Crystal snorted at his terrible joke, which warmed him to her further. “Terrigen mist, actually,” she replied. “Apparently, I’m an Inhuman.”

“Well, that must have been interesting.” The young hero found himself quite intrigued as a scientist, having never had the opportunity to learn much about what made a person an Inhuman — if the marker for it was like the recessive X-gene that had brought rise to mutants, what the actual process of Terrigenesis was like — and he was dying to ask questions, though he knew that would have to wait for another time.

“You could say that,” Crystal answered him with another small laugh, though she offered no further details on the subject. Johnny gave Peter another hug, apparently making up for having missed him altogether on his last visit (apparently having an insane, deadly mercenary in tow was no excuse), and made him promise to come to say good-bye to the pair of them before he left the building.

The couple finally scampered off, so Peter made his way over to Sue’s sprawling biochem lab, hoping to catch her. Sure enough, there she was bent over what appeared to be a cube half-filled with black goo, immersed in doing… something with it. At another workstation, which looked to be just as active, were pages of notes about the different Goblin formulas Peter had collected during his past run-ins with the villains and what appeared to be a running analysis on the data stolen from Oscorp.

“Any luck?” he asked loudly as he approached, trying not to startle her.

“Oh! Hey, Spider-Man,” Sue greeted.

“No Deadpool with me today, Sue,” Peter reassured.

“Well, you’ve still got your mask on. I was just being sensible,” she said.

“I guess someone needs to be around here,” he agreed.

“Exactly. Especially if you’re here causing trouble.” Sue’s expression was momentarily severe before she broke into a beaming smile of her own. “Come here, Pete. Give me a hug. It’s been ages since you came by.”

“I was here, like, two weeks ago.” Peter hugged her anyway. Her husband was the stretchy one, but Sue gave the second-best hugs (after Ben, obviously).

“That was business, over a month ago, and you brought Wade Wilson of all people with you. Doesn’t count,” she countered.

“He was already at the place when I got there! How do you guys even know him, anyway? You know he tried to kill me once, right? And then I hear you greet him by his first name?! I’m traumatized. Traumatized, I tell you!”

“We met him in space,” Sue said, unmoved by Peter’s theatrics. Well then, that explained absolutely nothing. In fact, that raised even more questions.

“In space?” Peter asked.

“In space.”

“In space?”

“Yes, in space. He might have married someone to get Johnny out of a bit of a pickle if I recall,” she said thoughtfully.

“In space?” Peter repeated once more. “Wait, is he still space-married?”

“You’d have to ask him.” Sue turned back to her work. “Sorry I was working on something else when you came in. Honestly, my brain needed a bit of a break, so I decided to check on this little guy. Hitched a ride here on our shuttle. Reminds me of something we heard about over in San Francisco last year from the Life Foundation. Anyway, did you want an update or not, Pete?”

“Please,” Peter said, pulling up a stool. The goo was more interesting now that he knew it was extraterrestrial, but he was certainly no xenobiologist, and anyhow this wasn’t just a social call. “I’m sure glad you guys could help me out with this one. Could you imagine trying to get, like, the X-Men to pay attention to this?”

“We’ll get to that, but yes. Thank goodness you were saved by a more competent woman.” Sue flashed a smile full of teeth, and Peter was briefly reminded just how often the Four were saved because someone had underestimated the good doctor. “All right, so let me get you up to speed, and then we’ll get to the really interesting stuff.”

Peter gestured for her to go on, and Storm launched into a rapid-fire explanation of what she’d gleaned from the course of treatments for her patients, everything they’d pulled from Oscorp, and what she’d been able to infer from comparing that data to what they had on the old Goblin formula. “Okay, now for the weird stuff. Obviously, the original formula had some major drawbacks, causing paranoia, visual and auditory hallucinations, and plenty of other side effects along with the physical changes that are similar to those one might expect to see in an enhanced Alpha with physical abilities, such as yourself.”

“Sure,” Peter agreed, following her explanation to that point.

“But of course, it didn’t truly work either, did it? It wasn’t a particularly effective gene therapy, from what little information we’ve been able to gather. While it did provide Norman with enhancements, he was still developing the formula and had to take it regularly to maintain the effects. After your poor friend Harry ended up in the hospital, the formula worked itself out of his system fairly quickly, and from what you told me, it never even ended up in his medical records. The formula can’t even really be compared to the efficacy of HRT. This, though? I hate to say it, but we might have a major medical breakthrough here.”

“A breakthrough? What is that supposed to mean?” Peter said sharply, standing so quickly his stool almost toppled over.

“Whoa there, kiddo. Not like that,” Sue reassured. “Almost everyone reverted roughly to their baseline biometrics from before the experiments, given the medical supervision to get everything out of their systems and a responsible application of anticonvulsants and beta-blockers. We had a couple of X-gene carriers whose measurements are a little different now, and they seem interested in working with me to study that further. Don’t give me that look, Pete. This could revolutionize gene therapy and help a lot of people! Do you understand the medical applications for this?”

Peter glowered at her but didn’t move to either leave or return to his seat.

“Not to mention, if I can develop this into a case study on the similarities between dynamic dysphoria and gender dysphoria,” she continued without missing a beat. “We could push the conversation on dynamic-affirming medical care forward a measurable amount. So like I said, the X-Men might be a little more interested in this than you’d think. I was planning to reach out to Doctor McCoy about it. We had another case though, that honestly, I’m still trying to figure out myself.”

“What happened?” asked Peter. “You said they were all fine.”

“Yes, they are,” Sue assured him, then launched into her explanation. “It just happens that the partial formula they were testing worked on one person, a Beta. It also almost killed her. It would have if she hadn’t been an Inhuman. Quake showed up with a Terrigen crystal and a couple of SHIELD agents, dropped it off without any explanation other than that she’d heard we needed it, and disappeared. Those guys freak me out.” She shook her head. “The spooks, not the Inhumans.”

Peter put two and two together. “It’s Crystal, right? The Alpha Johnny’s with? She said her powers were a new development.”

“Oh good, you’ve met her already,” said Sue with no small amount of relief. “Yes, it was quite impressive. After going through Terrigenesis, she was completely stable, and, of course, appears to be an Alpha in every testable way.”

“Is that… Is that a good thing?” asked Peter.

“Well, it’s what she wanted, isn’t it?” Sue said. “And she might not have ever come into her powers otherwise. I suppose it turned out all right for her if you want to think of it that way.”

“But the formula’s not stable,” Peter pressed.

“No, if she weren’t an Inhuman, perhaps even if she were any other Inhuman but herself, it wouldn’t have worked. This is a long way off from the intensity of the original formula, as well. Whoever your new Goblin is, I’m not entirely sure what direction they plan to go in.”

“If anything, he’s taking it way slower than Norman,” Peter muttered. “I can’t believe he even got this far without me noticing.”

“Well, you know now, and you’re going to stop them, Pete.” Sue put a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you help me take some notes on our new little goopy buddy over here for a bit?”

Reed popped his head into Sue’s lab a short time later. Literally just his head, his neck stretched like taffy from one of the other spaces on the floor. “Oh, hey there, sport! Come by when you’re done here, will you? I want to know how your cryo-fluid dispersal project is coming,” he said cheerfully when he saw that the young Alpha was in his wife’s lab.

Peter once again mentally bemoaned the fact that it would have brought too much attention having Mister Fantastic on his thesis committee. Maybe Reed would at least be able to read his paper before he turned in the next draft if Peter sent it along and reminded him enough times.

“What was I here for again? Oh, right!” Richards turned to Sue. “Darling, your brother is an emotional terrorist.”

“Yes, and?” Sue looked like she was fighting to hold back laughter.

“He’s been swooning about our Inhuman guest in my physics lab for the past hour. She went to go practice her powers with Ben. Why am I being subjected to this?”

“Because I banned Johnny from all the medical and biochem labs on pain of death, and Ben threatened to clobber him through the living room floor, sweetheart.

“I’m being terrorized in my own home,” Reed said woefully, eyebrows pinched together and forehead wrinkling in distress. Sue burst into snickers that quickly devolved into outright giggles.

“Peter, would you perhaps like to visit with Johnny? Perhaps you’ll be able to get him to do anything besides talk at me while I’m trying to work,” Reed said.

“Sure thing, man,” the brunet agreed amiably. “So, Johnny and Crystal, huh?”

“Are you really surprised?” the blonde Beta asked with a snort, still recovering from her giggling fit.

“We’re not going to discuss how I know that your brother is a sucker for anyone who can out-Alpha him, especially if they’re also a pretty girl,” Peter said with a wave as he followed Reed’s head out of her lab, heart significantly lighter as he did. The casual exchange about the new Inhuman Alpha — Crystal — reassured Peter again that the Four were treating her like a person, not a science experiment.

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Spider-Man landed silently in the alley next to Wade, rising fluidly from his crouch to lean against the wall with his head pillowed one unfairly ripped bicep. “How’s it hanging, ‘Pool?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Because of the spiderwebs. Yes, hilarious.” The wallcrawler sounded unimpressed.

“Merc with the Mouth™, baby boy,” Wade said with a wink.

While they were waiting to hear back from their sources (or the opportunity be their own sources, as Wade suspected was the case with Spider-Man), the two of them had kept to their nightly patrols, hoping to uncover something from the kind of people who might feel marginalized and desperate enough to go in for shady medical experiments or align themselves with someone as unhinged as any version of the Goblin. This was their fifteenth night in a row of patrol together. That was a record for the most time Wade had spent with anyone other than Blind Al since the last time the X-Men had tried to drag him on some misadventure or other.

“You’re so weird,” Spidey sorted. “You ready to head out?”

“Don’t I look ready?” Wade spread his arms, showing off his tac gear and bristling utility built. He tried not to preen as the hero gave him an awfully thorough once-over for someone just checking out his gear.

「Oh, I’ll bet he’s checking out what gear you’re packing, all right?」

Yellow’s innuendo was interrupted by Spidey teasing Wade as he gestured for the ex-soldier to hop on his back. He must have already heard something happening that he wanted them to rush on over to. Wade had to adjust his tac gear in several places before he could climb on, and the spider tapped fingers anxious against his thighs as he waited.

“Why do you carry so many knives at one time? You can’t possibly need all of them! You already have two swords! And guns! Which I still don’t approve of, by the way,” the webslinger ranted once they were finally airborne and swooping their way across the city.

Wade shrugged as best he could with his grip iron-tight around the webhead. To be fair, he was in rare form tonight, having been slowly swapping out his arsenal for blades and blunt instruments while he was out with the arachnid-themed hero. “Dunno. They’re shiny. I’m a collector. I lose ‘em a lot. Better’n a fork when I have the compulsive need to stab myself in the eyes. Boxes like ‘em. Pick one.”

“Why are you like this?” Spider-Man asked in a tone that implied he would be clutching his head in his hands if he didn’t need them to keep the pair of them from dropping from the New York skyline to their tragic and untimely (if temporary, in Wade’s case) deaths.

Wade’s broad smile stretched across his mask as he hooked his chin over the arachnid’s shoulder. “Everybody’s gotta have a hobby.”

Spider-Man groaned exasperatedly in response, thwipping on. A few times, the hero made sharp turns apropos of nothing or flinched in response to nothing Deadpool could sense.

『Little twitchy today, ain’t he?』

The hero landed quietly in the shadows of a light-well between buildings, dipping his knees enough for Wade to clamber near-silently off his back. He jerked his head in the direction of a small group of people lounging in an entryway a few buildings down one of the narrower side streets.

『We aren’t exactly the most subtle apple in the bunch, dude. What’s the plan here? Why is this where we stopped? What’s up with these guys?』

Before Wade could ask, the wallcrawler was living up to his name by climbing back up onto the bricks and creeping around the corner toward the bunch.

「???」

Well, all right then. The merc opted for a different approach, counting on his underground reputation to at least give the loitering troop enough pause to give him an in. He and Spidey could meet somewhere in the middle. He conspicuously circled the corner, scrolling through his phone. Ooh, he should show Hank McCoy’s latest TED Talk to Webs later. Science and mutate rights!

Wade imagined he heard the slightest huff of excitement, or possibly amusem*nt, from somewhere above and behind himself as he approached the group. He dropped his phone back into a belt pouch. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” he asked in his most menacing and gravelly Deadpool voice — okay, at roughly 72% of his menacing capacity. Didn’t want them to pee their pants right away. “Anything interesting?”

“What’s it to ya?” A broad-shouldered white boy with an awful haircut peeled off the bunch to approach Deadpool as the rest looked on with mild interest in the proceedings.

“Could be I’m looking for something to make my night more… interesting,” Deadpool leered. A few of them, probably just teenagers, leaned back at that, while a couple of the braver ones shuffled forward to stand near the first boy to speak — not behind him though. He wasn’t in charge, then.

“What kind of interesting?” one of the new ones asked him, popping her gum.

“The f*ck are you doing?” Bad Haircut hissed.

“That’s Deadpool, man,” she muttered back. “Don’t f*ck with that guy.”

『So they have heard of us.』

“So you have heard of me,” Deadpool prompted, echoing the box.

“You could say that.” She looked him up and down thoughtfully, apparently unfazed despite her earlier words of caution.

“Good things, I’m sure,” he said with a leer.

“You could say that,” she repeated. “Depending on who you ask.”

“Well?” he asked.

“Depends on what kind of interesting you’re looking for.” She put a hand on his arm.

『You know Spider-Man is watching you right now, right?』

「Can’t this be for business and pleasure?」

Whatever, who cared? Not Deadpool, that’s who. He turned to the chatty bubblegum blower. “Sorry, cutie. Daddypool’s not looking for that kind of interesting tonight.”

“All right, this has officially gotten too weird,” said a voice from above. Spider-Man backflipped off the wall with unnecessary showiness, webbing the half-dozen or so unsuspecting people in place on the delivery ramp with a strategic web-bomb as he did. Bubblegum, surprisingly, managed to dodge, but Deadpool easily caught her.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he warned, friendliness bleeding out of his voice. “Go sit with your buddies, mmkay?”

She glared at him, but after a moment of eying his hand resting casually on the hilt of one of his many, many knives, she sat on the stairs adjacent to the ramp, laying out her jacket first so she wouldn’t get stuck directly to the webbing. Huh, smart. She didn’t smell scared, either, wasn’t making Deadpool’s pulse speed up or his boxes anxious.

Deadpool figured she was probably actually the group’s leader, or at least their spokesperson. He squatted down to her eye-level, aware of Spidey’s approach behind him. “Okay, let’s do this again.”

“Seriously, we did just want to ask you some questions,” Spidey said, though he wasn’t entirely convincing, considering he was rifling gingerly through a couple of backpacks on the ground. He pulled a few baggies from one and sniffed the contents. “You guys sell by the schools over here?” he asked.

“Nah, dude,” Bubblegum said. “The f*ck?”

“Okay,” said the wallcrawler, and dropped the baggies back into the backpack. “Let’s keep it that way. I’m not gonna bust you just for shrooms and stuff. I am taking these though.” He webbed several firearms into a sticky ball and handed it off to Wade. Yay, presents!

Bad Haircut yelled something indignantly, but it was completely muffled by the webbing.

Deadpool looked at the kid flatly, keeping his Big Bad Mercenary voice on even as he was still processing his surprise that Mister Rule-Follower himself was a little more fast and loose with the law than he led on. “Shaddap.” It worked.

“Chill out, Rick,” Bubblegum said tiredly. “Okay, sure. Guess we probably weren’t gonna do any more business tonight anyway, considering how everything’s been all f*cked up for the past couple of months. Those,” she nodded toward the sticky ball of webbing and guns Wade was holding, “are for protection. We just, like, sell weed and stuff and work this block, man.”

“Why do you say things have been messed up for the past few months?” the wallcrawler prompted.

“Dunno. Something’s going on, though. It’s making people nervous. And, uh, we’ve heard some things about stuff like weapons being harder to get right now. Sounds like a turf war or something, if you ask me.” Bubblegum seemed relatively unconcerned. “Not like we can do anything about it but keep our heads down.”

Spidey hummed thoughtfully. “Well, thanks for your help, miss.” He examined the row of people webbed to the wall, rubbing the back of his neck. He stopped in front of the guy next to Bad Haircut. “You should think real hard about if you want to keep this kid around.”

“And why’s that?” asked Bubblegum.

“I’ve got a real bad feeling about him. My bad feelings are usually right.” And that was it for Spidey, who turned and left.

Bubblegum peered at the man thoughtfully. “Huh. Good to know.”

Wade silently dropped the ball of webbed-up firearms into her lap as he followed the hero back onto a more public road.

“So, that went well,” the merc began, once he’d caught up and they were back on a rooftop several blocks away.

“Yeah,” agreed Spidey. “Sounds like we were right, and there’s some turf trouble with the Maggia. I’ll bet our new guy — ”

“Or girl,” interjected Wade.

“ — New person,” continued the webhead, “has something to do with that, all right.”

“Maybe we should pay your Goblin friend a visit sooner rather than later,” suggested Wade.

“I’ll handle it, ‘Pool,” Spidey said tersely.

“You sure, Webs?”

“I said I’ll handle it.”

Wade had only shame-jerked it to the thought of Spidey pushing him around a dozen (or so) more times since White had so graciously pointed out that the wallcrawler had started unknowingly using one of Vanessa’s pet names for him. Plus, now that he was sort of getting the hang of the spider’s vague boundaries of “acceptable levels of violence” after about a month of patrolling while they stalled on the damn Weapon X case, Spidey wasn’t actually shoving him into walls twice a patrol anymore. Yeah, the hero had started to warm up to him, but at what cost? Even getting an eyeful of that spandexed ass as Spidey flipped out of his swing to meet Wade couldn’t cheer him up.

『I will never let you live this down.』

“So I heard back from the FF,” said Spider-Man after he touched down on the rooftop. “Sounds like Doctor Storm finally made some good progress on the formula we recovered. That Goblin stuff is no joke. They finally got the people we rescued stable and on their way to recovery. I guess one of the girls, Crystal or something? It took okay for her once she had a whiz like Sue tweaking things, like gene therapy almost, so I guess that worked out for her.”

“Good for her. Sounds like just one more pain-in-the-ass Alpha running around.”

Spider-man continued to ramble, missing the hint. “Well, Sue thinks that maybe she was able to handle it because she had the Inhuman marker! So neat, right? She tested everyone for Inhuman and X genetic markers, and she wants to see if she can figure anything out there.” Spidey went on rapidly, sounding a little too excited about human experimentation for Wade’s comfort. “Sounds like Crystal hit it off with Johnny real good too, now that she’s doing better,” he laughed.

“Isn’t Torch an Alpha too?” Wade asked, briefly startled out of his concerns over the webslinger’s eagerness about the human test subjects.

『What, like you haven’t f*cked more Omegas than Alphas and Betas combined.』

「Why are you being such a weirdo about it?」

“Yeah. What’s your point?” Webs asked, his voice suddenly hard.

Wade raised his hands in mock surrender. “No point. Deadpool says gay rights. Sex and dynamic exist on a biological spectrum and not fixed points. Gender is performative. Et cetera.”

“Okay. Good.” The hero’s body relaxed.

“So everyone is doing better?” Wade prompted after a moment of silence.

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. I’m glad. And it’s Gobby’s formula?”

The wallcrawler sighed. “Looks like it was certainly adapted from it, at the very least, yeah. Improved, even. Sue has been digging into the data to see if she spots any names or work she recognizes, but the Four have their own stuff to deal with all the time. I don’t understand!” He clutched the sides of his head in frustration. “I know it can’t be him, so who’s gotten ahold of it? What are they planning?”

Wade climbed over the fire escape and sat, swinging his dangling legs as he thought. “Well, what was the last Goblin’s plan?”

“What?”

“If he’s a copyc — If he’s using a new version of the formula and sourcing it from the same place, maybe he’s trying to do the same thing. If you know enough about the actual Green Goblin to know he’s for sure, 100% not the guy doing all this, then maybe the new guy thinks he can get away with it before you figure things out because you’ll be so focused on your beef with OGG.”

“OGG?”

“Yeah, you know me! ” Wade sing-songed. “Y’know, the original Green Goblin.”

“That’s… That’s a really good point.” Spider-Man sounded impressed. “How did I not think of that?”

「He has his moments.」

“The first Goblin tried to make himself into some kind of, of crime overlord by sowing chaos amongst the public and a bunch of crime families and then offing me as a power move. You could say that neither of those worked out that well for him. The second one — “

“The second one?!” Wade had his theories, of course, especially with the incredibly obvious Oscorp connection ( hello, at least half the guy’s bag of tricks was pulled straight out of Oscorp tech patents), but Spidey was handing him the Green Goblin’s identity on a silver platter with this admission.

『If Webs knows the Osborns, it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out who he is. We know enough about him that we could probably narrow it down pretty quickly.』

「We could just watch the Osborn kid until he shows up.」

Wade was absolutely not breaking the Superhero Bro Code™ to stalk Spidey. Even if he wasn’t a hero himself, and he really, really wanted to know what the webslinger’s face looked like.

“sh*t! I mean, shoot! I meant — Aw, beans.” The webhead smacked himself in the forehead as he realized his mistake.

「Spidey did a swear! Okay, that is going in the spank bank.」

『What?? The f*ck?? Is wrong with you??』

“Okay, yeah,” Spidey continued, now that he realized the jig was up. “The second Goblin. His whole deal was more of a vengeance thing directed at your friendly neighborhood this guy right here.” He pointed both thumbs at himself. “So I guess if this new guy is a copycat, he’s copying Goblin Numero Uno.”

“The Godfather: Halloween Edition,” Wade summarized. “Got it. Well, it just so happens you came to the right guy. I got a guy or two that can keep an ear to the ground for me.”

Hell, Patch might even pay Wade for the heads-up about some new costumed weirdo other than Spider-Man who was about to make the Maggia’s life more difficult.

“That’s actually really helpful, DP.”

“I’m a helpful guy, Webs,” he leered.

Spidey walked over to sit on the fire escape near Wade. “I was proud of you for not hurting that kid at the bank that shot you last month. You’ve been doing a really good job, since then. It’s been nice to have someone around to watch my back. I might even kinda miss you when we figure this whole thing out and you leave town.”

Oh yeah. The hero was nice about it, but Wade was essentially just a tool and a guilt-trip all rolled into one to him, not a real super-bro. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m still not okay with the fact that you went behind my back and killed all those scientists at Oscorp, even if they were scumbags,” Spidey reminded softly, even as he scooted a bit closer. “That was horrible.”

This sh*t again? “Yeah, I know. What’s your f*ckin’ point?”

“I… sort of understand why you did it, even if I think it was wrong. And it’s not like other heroes don’t, uh, ‘unalive’ people. Stark is a former weapons developer, and, like, actively thrives under capitalism. Cap and Falcon are both vets, and I’ve watched them kill people. SHIELD’s whole everything, which also means Widow and Hawkeye and Quake and all those guys. Plus, I’m pretty sure that Ghost Rider guy is actually possessed by the devil.” He shudders visibly at the last one. “I’ve worked with all of them without complaining, heck, without even questioning where they drew the line for themselves. With you though, you just took it, most of the time, when I yelled at you, and you’re the only person who’s ever done a street-level patrol with me because you think it matters.”

「Oh yeah, we’ll take it from you, pretty boy.」

『Stop being gross for four seconds. I think he’s trying to have a moment with us. Good kid. Bad judge of character.』

Wade had no idea how to respond to the wallcrawler’s sudden heart-to-heart moment, so he deflected. “Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. Good thing we still have to figure out who Goblin 3.0 is then, so we can keep working together. Hey, you want to come to my place so we can brainstorm somewhere with a whiteboard and I can call people who might be useful? New noodle house just opened up down the street that I’ve been meaning to try.”

『Oh no, not this sh*t again.』

“Okay, yeah. That sounds kinda nice.”

“Wait, really?” Wade asked, flailing a little in his surprise and excitement.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind me knowing where you live.”

“I am literally unkillable, even if you were a threat.”

“Murder is bad, ‘Pool.”

“You’re just making my point for me.”

That surprising and slightly bizarro-world exchange had led to this moment: Spider-Man was judging Wade so hard for his life choices.

「In a new way, though. I think I like it. Is this my fetish?」

『Everything is your fetish.』

“Why are the only things in your refrigerator ketchup and frozen waffles?” the arachnid asked with no small amount of trepidation.

“Why are you judging me and my fridge, Judge Judy?”

“I asked you for water, and you waved at the fridge!”

“I was pointing at the cupboard, Webs. Now while you’re there, can I please get a waffle?”

“What, like frozen?”

“There you go again, all Judgey McJudgerson.”

“We just ordered food!”

“Which will take like 40 minutes to get here! Daddypool needs a snack now.”

Spidey snorted and threw the box of Eggos at Wade. “Please never call yourself that again.”

“I heard you call yourself ‘Daddy Spidey’ to a roomful of Oscorp goons. You have no space to talk. I will never be able to get that out of my brain.”

The webhead spluttered. “Yeah, well that’s only because you have a daddy kink,” he shot back.

“Touché,” Wade readily agreed. “That only works if I’m ashamed to admit it.”

「Only for that red-and-blue Daddy Longlegs over there, though. Guh.」

『What did I say about making daddy longlegs jokes?!』

「That was like eight weeks and three chapters ago. No one cares.」

“Blocked. Blocked. None of you are free from sin.” Spidey clapped his hands over his ears.

Wade cackled. Eventually, he took pity on the wallcrawler, grabbed them a couple of glasses, and filled them with water from the sink, which was what he had actually been pointing Spider-Man toward. He and Spidey ended up on the couch and floor, respectively.

「Awww, he’s being respectful of our nest and letting us have the whole couch!」

『Gag me with a spoon.』

Wade switched on the PS4 so they could play a little of the Resident Evil 2 remaster before the food arrived.

Webs got weirdly excited that Wade had the Last of Us sequel. “I can’t usually afford to buy games until a few years after they’re out,” he explained.

“Huh. I mean, I guess you could come over to play it if you want. I finished it like a week after it came out.”

“Oh man, I couldn’t just take up your space like that.”

Wade waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. Bachelor pad, baby boy.” He managed to make it seem like it would absolutely not be a big deal for Spider-Man to casually hang out at his apartment.

『I can smell those sweet, sweet SHIELD contracts already.』

「Wish we could smell him.」

Wade immersed himself in the game’s zombified hack and slash with Spidey while the yellow box kept up a color commentary in the background. “You’re pretty good at unaliving when it’s zombies, pretty boy.”

“Yeah, it’s just a game,” Webs huffed. “You’re pretty good at teamwork.”

“Yup, cuz it’s just a game,” Wade taunted.

They managed to get through a fair few levels before the delivery person arrived. Wade was already sorting through the bag when he came back from the door. “Let’s eat, and then we can get back to work, which I know is what you really want to do, you nerd. Get your glass noodles out of my sight.”

Spider-Man eagerly grabbed the container and chopsticks from his place on the floor. “Oh my god, that smells so good, even through my mask. Thanks again, ‘Pool. I’m going to friggin’ inhale these, man, I — ”

The wallcrawler had opened the box and pushed his mask up to the bridge of his nose (though Wade couldn’t help but notice the extra-high neck of his suit that more than covered the scent glands under his jaw and at the base of his throat). On his first breath unfiltered through his mask, he made a weird choking sound in the back of his throat and went silent. His mask lenses blew out wide, then narrowed to slits. He shakily put down the container and pulled his mask back down.

“Maybe I'll — I’m not that hungry, actually,” he panted hoarsely. His shoulders were up near his ears.

Wade wavered before finally sitting back down on the couch and putting the bag of food on the floor.

「What do we do?」

“Uhh, I don’t know.” He reached out for the hero’s shoulder, then put his hand back in his lap instead. “Hey Spidey, it’s okay, huh? Breathe with me. I’m gonna go open a window, okay?”

He got up to do just that, still talking. “Can you just try to breathe and listen to me for a bit, try to just calm down? It’s just me, it’s just Deadpool. Uh, Wade Wilson. That’s probably less scary,” he laughed weakly. “I know you already knew my first name, from Doctor Storm. I’m not sure if you bothered to look me up or anything after that. You can call me Wade, y’know. I mean, maybe you just like to call me Deadpool. Keep it profesh, and all. But you can call me Wade if you want to,” he rambled as he returned to the couch, watching Webs relax by inches. “You good?”

Spidey finally nodded, scrubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry about that, ‘Pool.”

『Well, that went well.』

After Spidey’s little freakout, Wade decided to forego chowing down on his dinner until after the arachnid had left. At least the two of them had managed to pull together some decent plans for trying to figure out who the new Goblin wannabe was and what their nefarious master plan was, exactly. Wade had put out a few feelers to network through Patch and Weasel — 

『Waste of favors, if you ask me.』

He hadn’t asked. Anyway, Wade had reached out to his contacts, and Spidey had said that he was going to reach out to his sources for more detailed information about the previous Goblin’s current state. He seemed very optimistic that there might be some clues there if nothing else then as to how the new Goblin was accessing the second Goblin’s tech and back-channels to Oscorp.

『How much you want to bet he’s just going to show up himself to see the Osborn kid that it is totally not obvious is the Goblin?』

「Have we revisited the concept of some light stalking? Let the record show that I’m in favor of some light stalking.」

『You just want to know what he looks like for your jerk-*ff fodder. You don’t even care about the rest of this.』

「What’s your point?」

“Weapon X is the point. There were Weapon X scientists involved in the creation of this formula. Also, no stalking,” Wade muttered.

「When did you stop being fun?」

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

Wade crouched behind a giant stack of 2x4s, waiting for Spidey’s cue. They’d followed some leads to this construction site, which the webhead had claimed was part of some Karnelli family business front. Apparently, the Karnellis, who were on the small-time side when it came to Maggia families with folks like Silvermane running around, were an ideal target for what Spidey called “a little friendly neighborhood aggravation,” whatever that meant. Wade tapped the muzzle of his Desert Eagle against his boot impatiently.

「I’m bored. Nothing exciting is happening.」

“Shaddap and also cool your jets,” Wade muttered. Sure enough, only moments later, the webslinger was bouncing around the construction site, dodging bullets and quipping at the Karnelli suits attempting to bring him down.

『Damn, these guys are bad shots. How embarrassing.』

“Springy little twunk is hard to hit. I barely winged him when we fought, and I’m way better trained than these Maggia jokes are,” the ex-soldier explained to the boxes.

Spidey alighted on the streetlight nearest Wade’s hiding place for just a moment. “Oh come on, it’s like you’re not even trying!” he called out cheerfully. “I thought this was going to be an exciting party. I even brought a date!”

『Is that supposed to be the signal?』

With that, the wallcrawler dropped from the pole on a web, grabbing Wade by his leather straps, and swung him into the fray.

Deadpool popped off a few shots that went bouncing around the steel skeleton of a building that took up most of the lot, making the Fast and Furious wannabe crew skulking near the structure jump out of hiding long enough for Spidey to web them to the wall or hang them from a lamp.

Deadpool just watched him for a moment, caught up in the webhead’s grace and speed as he swung and twisted and dodged, aim unerring and inhuman strength perfectly controlled.

“Little help here!” the webslinger yelled over his shoulder.

Deadpool popped back into action, moving in with one katana drawn. While these guys might pass for decent hired muscle as action movie extras or in whatever Maggia family they ended up being associated with, they proved to be no match for Wade’s level of expertise. Especially not with a Spider-Babe to impress.

“Sphincter says what?” Deadpool yelled excitedly, throwing a sloppy haymaker at Discount Vin Diesel's ear.

“What?” asked DVD dazedly, clapping a hand to his ringing ear.

“Ha! I can’t believe I got someone with that!” Deadpool crowed as he directed an angled kick at the man’s knee, collapsing him to the ground with a satisfying crunch. He pulled Mary-Kate and Ashley from their sheaths on his back and used the handle of one blade to knock Discount VD unconscious a lá Fezzik the Giant before whirling to take on whoever Spidey had left for him.

The ex-soldier did his best to hit with the broad side of the blade when he attacked, aware of the watchful eye of the arachnid-themed hero who would certainly have something to say about it if he lopped off too many fingers. Slapping people with a flat steel rod was still a great way to knock them out, so it mostly worked out all right.

The hero and mercenary worked in tandem to incapacitate the rest of the suits. “That wasn’t too bad,” Webs said, dusting off his hands.

Deadpool wiped down his katana and re-sheathed it. The twins had really been earning their keep since he started working with Spidey.

Apparently they’d missed someone with a sense of humor because one last goon chose that moment to leap out of hiding and come barreling at Wade with a pretty awesome-looking carbon-steel blade.

Before the mercenary even had time to dodge, Spidey pushed Deadpool out of the way and kicked the knife skidding into the mud several yards away. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing!” He webbed the Maggioso down to the concrete.

Deadpool started to get up from where he’d been knocked to the ground, intent on gutting the asshole who’d almost gotten the drop on him.

「That would have been such an embarrassing way to die.」

Spidey was too quick though, reaching for Wade’s hand and pulling him up before he’d had a chance to even get to his knees. The merc stumbled forward stiffly, his body leaning heavily into the hero for a moment. Spidey didn’t even seem to register the extra weight, breathing deeply as Wade pressed against him.

『Real subtle.』

“You good, ‘Pool?”

The mutate shook out the wrist that had crunched a little when he’d landed, clearing his head as much as he ever could. “Looks like it. Thanks. Patching the suit’s a real bitch.”

“Okay, good. Be more careful next time, ya lunk,” Webs said, still right next to him. He hadn’t moved away after getting Wade to his feet.

“Sure, whatever,” Wade scoffed, finally making space between them himself. “Let’s find out what the sh*t these guys are doing.”

The wallcrawler approached the webbed-down ex-knife-wielder and crouched down near his head. “Looks like you’re not going anywhere for a while, pal. You wanna help me out and do this the quick and easy way?”

The man spat at Spidey’s feet. “f*ck off, Spider-Twink.”

「Insert obligatory I-want-that-Spider-Twink-obliterated.jpg.」

“Well, that’s not fair. I think I’m closer to a hunk than a twink out of all this spandex.”

「Yup, twunk confirmed.」

“C’mon, you haven’t even heard any of my questions yet!” Spidey continued.

Wade snorted. Yeah, that was going to be really effective, Webs.

“Nobody’s telling you sh*t, you little twerp! Call the cops or whatever bullsh*t you’re gonna do and get the f*ck out of my face,” the knife-wielder yelled, thrashing a little between the webs and the damp concrete.

“Well, this isn’t going to get us anywhere, is it, buddy?” Spidey asked.

Deadpool picked up the carbon-steel knife from where it had landed in the mud. “I could always give it a try,” he said, a too-wide smile spreading across his hyper-expressive mask. He approached the webbed-down figure and wiped the mud off the blade onto the webbing across the Maggioso’s shoulder, enjoying how his breath hitched almost infinitesimally at the blade’s proximity to his face.

Deadpool sensed Spider-Man about to jump in to separate them, so he reached out his empty hand behind himself to wrap around the wallcrawler’s ankle, stopping him. Wade rubbed his thumb over the bony bump of the webhead’s tibia through his boot, hoping the hero would hold out for just a minute. Spidey tensed but stayed where he was crouched at the mercenary’s back.

“This the new SEAL Pup Elite? SOG knives have the weirdest names, but damn it all if they don’t look cool,” Deadpool continued without missing a beat, running his gloved thumb along the sharp edge. Now was not the time to get an emotional boner over Webs trusting him. Or an actual boner. “I haven’t had a chance to try one out yet. Maybe you can help me test this one.”

“f*ck off.” The goon’s voice was rough with fear. Even the Maggia’s sh*t-for-brains hired muscle knew better than to screw with Deadpool on his best day.

『There we go. That’s more like it.』

Deadpool trailed the knife almost lovingly down the man’s cheekbone. He stopped with the tip only centimeters from the goon’s right eye, trying not to laugh as he went cross-eyed trying to see it. “I think I might start right here.”

“Spider-Man! You just gonna watch? You can’t let him do this to me!” the ex-knife-wielder burst out in a panic. His eyes bounced around, trying to get a good view of the arachnid from behind Deadpool’s bulk.

“Can’t I? Doesn’t seem like anyone wants to listen to me today.” Webs managed to sound almost bored, but he was trembling under Wade’s hand. His fingers were digging into Wade’s wrist hard enough to bruise, if not break the skin.

Deadpool adjusted his grip on the knife and angled it exactly the way he would if he were going to cut this guy’s eye out of his head for later use.

“Okay, okay!” the goon yelped. “f*ckin’ Christ, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Spider-Man. Get your f*ckin’ attack dog away from me.”

“Bark, bark.” Deadpool plunged the knife into the mud right next to the man’s head. Wade stood up and stalked several feet away.

Spidey leaned over the goon. “Look, buddy, I just want to know if your boss has been working with a new business partner. The Karnellis are one of two Maggia families that are in the kind of position to be bargained with right now, and your family isn’t headed by an enhanced psycho like the Manifredis. Gimme some details, bud.”

「That’s some pretty ableist language there, Mister Hero Guy. We should havewords.」

『I don’t know, “enhanced psycho” is an apt yet concise summation of Silvermane’s whole cyborg stee*z. Also describes you two pretty well.』

“How should I know? Do I look like that’s my job to keep track of?” Despite his position pinned down in the mud, the Maggia thug managed to look indignant.

“Maybe, say, someone trying real aggressively to get in on the family’s racket?” the webslinger prompted.

The guy stared up at Webs blankly. “You’re gonna hafta be more specific.”

The hero sighed. “Okay, got it. Look, this guy is hard to miss. Big, green dude in a purple leotard? Clearly gunning for some kind of power move? Might have had strange weapons or some new synthetic drug he offered up to sweeten the deal?”

A strange look passed over the man’s face. “You’re talkin’ about that freaky weirdo in a Halloween mask,” he said.

Spidey grabbed the Maggioso’s lapels, stopping just short of shaking him in his eagerness. “Yes! What do you know?” he demanded.

“That creep was a problem for the family when he first showed up about, eh, seven years ago. He disappeared for a while, so the family heads was hopin’ we’d seen the last of him. Came back to the game a hell of a lot more reasonable though, apparently, because I don’t see the boss agreein’ to work with him unless he sweetened the pot.”

“What else?” the wallcrawler prodded, sounding equal parts eagerly and exasperated.

“Da f*ck should I know? You think I’d be doing dead-drops in the middle of the night if I was important enough to be in on Don Karnelli’s business decisions?” the man asked, shaking his head. “I’m only telling’ ya ‘cause that guy screams bad business decisions. Like in terms of ‘being alive to enjoy money from your business.’ You gonna call the cops now or let your rabid f*ckin’ dog over there off his leash?” He jerked his head in Wade’s direction.

For his part, the merc feinted a lunge, grinning evilly when the man flinched.

「Should’ve done it. I wanna test-drive our new knife.」

“I’m feeling generous,” Spidey said, bug-eyed lenses narrowing. He tore the man free of the webbing. “Tell your boss — tell whoever will listen that I’m willing to put our difference aside long enough to talk about this. The Goblin’s a problem for everyone. C’mon, Deadpool. We have work to do.”

He headed out of the construction site, leaving the rest of the Karnelli henchmen webbed around the construction site. Wade bent to grab the blade from the mud (what, it was cool-looking and he was on a budget now) and followed close at his heels. The pair paused a half-block away.

“Thanks for the help, ya lunk.” Spidey grabbed Wade roughly by the bandoliers crossing his suit and shot out a web. He thwipped his way one-handed down several blocks, swinging low to drop the ex-soldier on the roof of an office building well away from the construction site. He landed a few seconds later, rising from his signature crouch to his full height, just a few inches shorter than Wade, for all he thought of the webslinger as so much smaller than himself. His fists clenched and unclenched by his sides.

“Hey, Webs,” the mercenary said gently. “You’re okay. We got what we needed. We did a good job.”

He needed Spidey to confirm that he had been good. To tell him that he’d done a good job.

“That was horrible, Wade. I was so afraid you were going to hurt someone again, and I was going to be the one who let you do it.”

Ouch.

『Of course that’s the first time he uses your name.』

“Well, that’s not what happened,” Wade said through gritted teeth. “I know I scared that guy, man. That was the whole point. I wasn’t going to do anything to him. If it didn’t work, I was just going to have you web his mouth shut and move onto the next one.”

“But I didn’t know that, and I still let you do it!” Webs hissed. He stalked toward Wade, who braced himself for a hit from one of those super-strong little fists. Instead, he hooked his fingers into the straps holding on Wade’s katana sheaths, shaking him a little. “I just trusted you not to kill that guy. Oh jeez, I can’t believe I let you do that.”

“Well, everything turned out fine, didn’t it?” Wade asked helplessly, unsure what else to do. He gently placed his big hands over Spidey’s tight fists, rubbing his knuckles.

「Why is he so hot when he’s angry?」

“Everything is fine,” Wade soothed. “Nobody got hurt. We got what we came for. Look at us, huh? Working together without anybody getting stabbed or shot or anything.”

The hero sagged in his grip. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess we did. Good job, Wade.”

「Down, boy.」

The Omega mercenary swallowed hard. “Yeah, we did. You okay now, baby boy?”

“Yeah,” Spidey sighed. “Yeah, I’m good. I don’t think I can patrol anymore tonight, though, after that. I’m so anxious, I’m going to be useless.”

“Why don’t you come over for a bit? Play some games, eat some pizza. Go home once you’ve relaxed enough that your poor little spider-brain isn’t screaming at you anymore.”

Wade was almost more surprised that Spidey still accepted his invitation than anything else that had happened that night.

Although the webhead had accepted Wade’s invitation, he was still crouched on the fire escape railing with his hands balled into fists instead of climbing inside.

Wade stepped around the hero’s stiff figure to duck in through the window himself, then waited patiently for the guy to follow after him. When he still didn’t move, Wade looked around, trying to figure out why.

『We should open a window. Smells like death in here.』

That was a good point. The second and third times the arachnid had come over to Wade’s apartment (though he still hadn’t stayed for very long), it had also been on cool, breezy days like this one. On those days, Wade had happened to leave all the windows in his apartment cracked to take advantage of the nice weather and air it out. Spidey hadn’t agreed to hang out either of those times until he swung over to drop Wade off and had seen the open windows. Maybe he’d noticed and expected Wade’s scrambled eggs brain to have a consistent pattern for something. Tough luck, baby boy.

Well, it was worth a try. Wade opened both windows over the fire escape as wide as they would go, then walked around his place to open up the various other windows, even the one in the kitchen that had been partway painted over and he had to dig into the sash of a little with his new knife to get it free. He turned the central air on high (a merc had to spring for some luxuries) for good measure, then went back to the window.

Mercifully, the webhead hadn’t left yet. He was just tracking Wade’s movement around with his head from his perch. “You comin’ in, sweetums?”

Spidey’s body uncurled itself from its stiff position, and he came to the window. “Uh, yeah. Yes. Thanks.”

“Great!” Wade said cheerfully. “I’ll order some pizza. Let’s play some Cuphead to celebrate our newfound ability to work as a team without wanting to murder each other.”

“Doesn’t that game make people want to — ”

“Yes, Spider-Butt, that’s the joke. Keep up.”

Despite himself, the wallcrawler snorted. Wade was counting that as a victory. He kicked a controller and the tv remote over the Spidey, then flopped onto the couch to order food before grabbing his own controller and booting up the game.

The doorbell rang, and Wade paused the game. It was fine, his stupid character was about to die again anyway. f*ck Cuphead. Whose idea was it to play it anyway?

“Food’s here!” he chimed on his way back with the steaming boxes of cheesy goodness. His stomach rumbled a little. “Yum, stuffed crust.”

“Awesome,” Spidey said, making no move to take any, just fiddling with his controller as he waited for Wade to sit so they could start a new level.

Wade shook a box next to the webslinger’s head. “C’mon, growing spiders need their vitamins. And not just that vitamin D,” he leered, poking the proverbial bear with the proverbial stick.

「He’s a twink, not a bear.」

The mutate gave up and dropped the box on the ground next to Webs. The guy still didn’t even push up his mask.

“So… are we ever going to talk about this?” Wade asked gently.

“Nope,” Spidey said with forced pep pitching his voice high. “Talk about what?”

“Really? Are you sure you don’t want to talk about why you can’t stand the smell — ”

“I said no, Deadpool!” The wallcrawler’s masked forehead dropped to rest on his knees. “Can we just… This is a good night, for me. Can we just play the game and eat your gross pizza?”

“Don’t be like that, baby boy! There’s nothing wrong with pineapple and olives on pizza. It’s just what God intended.” Wade, using every ounce of tact in his body, let the subject drop in favor of fighting over pizza toppings. Spider-Man wasn’t digging into Wade’s mountain of trauma. It was the least he could do to return the favor for whatever baggage or sensory processing issue the guy had with Omega pheromones.

Webs rolled his head to lock the blank white lenses of his mask with Wade’s. “There is something truly, deeply wrong with you, ‘Pool. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

“Aww, thanks!” The merc waited until Spidey faced back toward the screen before finally pushing his mask up enough to start eating, mashing buttons one-handed with surprising skill as he did so. If the kid wasn’t going to eat, he wasn’t going to ralph from looking at Wade’s face, so at least there was that. Still, he didn’t have to give the guy a front-row seat to it.

As they played, the arachnid’s tense body slowly relaxed again. Wade noticed him taking a few deep breaths, and then, without warning, he pushed his mask up far enough to uncover that pretty pink mouth the merc had only seen in the dim lighting of the city streets at night. Wade was engrossed as Spidey groped blindly for a slice of pizza and shoved half of it into his mouth at once.

The sounds of both of their characters dying came loudly from the tv. “This is disgusting,” Webs said in a muffled voice. “I’m going to eat a whole friggin’ pie. Stop making me look at this cursed animation and put on your weird old lady show.”

Wade was pretty sure that meant Spidey liked the pizza, the game, and maybe even the Golden Girls. Well, wasn’t that just a bucket of serotonin being poured directly onto his brain? “Yeah, whatever you want, baby boy,” he murmured.

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Wade barely shut the apartment door after Spidey before he was tugging his mask off and pulling his dick out of his pants. So much for not shame-jerking it to Webs. The guy had pushed Wade out of the way of harm and then held up his weight like he was supporting nothing heavier than a wet kitten. Then he’d said Wade’s name, told him he did a good job, and come over to Wade’s apartment to relax.

Could you blame a merc after all that?

「Guh. Gimme.」

He tore off his glove with his teeth, stroking his shaft with his freshly bared hand even as he kicked off boots and utility belts and weapons in a heap by the entryway. He walked down the short, dingy hallway to his tiny bedroom. He finished stripping off the red-and-black kevlar and body armor in a heap by the door and climbed into bed, wiggling into the pillows in a half-hearted attempt to nest.

Wade ran fingers lightly over his length, before dipping them low and then smearing his slick over the sensitive head of his co*ck. The way Webs had supported him, that lithe, little body still making him feel outright goddamn enveloped in protection, was unfair and also unbelievably hot. He shuddered and pressed himself further into the pillows.

Spidey pushes Wade out of the way and kicks the knife skidding into the mud. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing!” He webs the Maggia goon down.

Wade starts to get up from where he’d been knocked to the ground, but Spidey is far quicker, reaching for his hand and pulling him up before he has a chance to even get to his knees. Too bad. It was a nice view.

Wade groped in the nightstand cabinet for his favorite knotting toy with a free hand. He willed himself not to skip ahead to how he already knew he wanted this to end.

The merc stumbles forward stiffly, his body leaning heavily into the hero for a moment. Spidey doesn’t even seem to register the extra weight, gasping as Wade presses against him. His hands grip the mutate’s hips for one bruising second.

“You good, Wade?”

The ex-soldier shakes out the wrist he’d landed on. “Looks like it, baby boy.”

“Yeah, you’re always good, aren’t you, Wade? Whenever I ask you to be.” Spider-Man is leaning into Wade now, hands flexing on Wade’s hips like he can’t decide if he wants to grab him tighter or run his hands up and down Wade’s leather-clad body. His mask lenses are narrowed and he’s panting, even though there’s no way he’s out of breath. “Do you think you deserve a reward for doing such a good job?”

“Ye-es?” Wade draws out the word with uncertainty, backing up a step.

“Good boy. I think so too.” The wallcrawler advances on him, forcing him back one step at a time until Wade finds himself pressed against one of the steel I-beams of the structure they’d been fighting underneath. They’re far enough away from all the men Spidey had left webbed up to have their privacy, but Wade knows what’s coming. He still needs to be quiet if he doesn’t want all of lower Manhattan to know what he sounds like when the arachnid’s f*cking him.

“What — what kind of reward?” Wade asks, wetting his lips nervously.

Webs pulls up both of their masks enough to free their mouths, then the Beta is tracing the damp path of Wade’s saliva across scarred flesh with his tongue. “I’ve been thinking about what that pretty little Omega co*ck can do. I want to taste it.”

Wade whines as Spidey makes quick work of his suit despite all its zippers and buckles. He pulls out Wade’s co*ck and works it to full hardness, making the Omega spit into his hand to slick the way. That quickly proves to be inadequate for his purposes, so he slides his hand behind Wade’s sack, slicking his fingers and stroking Wade’s dick with them until he’s thrusting into each movement of the hero’s hand.

Wade pumped some lube from the bottle in the nightstand into his palm. He f*cked up into the cool slickness in his hand, groaning.

Christ, what was wrong with him? All he could think about was how badly he wanted to see Spidey’s lush mouth wrapped around his shaft. He was already so wet from the thought that he probably could have just used that instead of lube.

“Are you gonna let me have that pretty co*ck, Wade?” The hero demands, tight grip pumping up and down Wade’s length as he presses him back against the beam until the unforgiving steel is digging into Wade’s back.

“Yes, yeah, whatever you want,” Wade agrees frantically, voice cracking with eagerness as he tries to keep it down.

Webs drops swiftly to his knees on the concrete, tugging Wade’s leathers down with him so they’re settled under the merc’s ass. He wraps a hand firmly around the base of Wade’s co*ck, then he sticks out his pink tongue and slaps the underside of Wade’s co*ck against it a few times. Finally, he laves his tongue up and down the scarred and ridged shaft like he’s in a goddamn p*rno or something. He looks up, half his face still covered by that bug-eyed mask, and bares his fangs at Wade in a playful threat. The whole thing should feel showy and not a little contrived but instead, it just has Wade shuddering and gasping, leaking slick and precome as he tries not to thrust into the hero’s mouth.

“There we go, good boy. Do you like that?” Spidey asks as he pumps Wade’s dick with a loose fist. The hero slows, clearly waiting for a response, and rubs Wade’s spit-slicked, sensitive co*ckhead when he doesn’t get one.

Wade stopped teasing himself with the tantalizing drag of his own lubed fingers. He leaned back against the cheap wood headboard, digging his heels into the mattress until he was pressing into it, and began rubbing his slick palm against the head of his co*ck until — 

Wade yelps, lurching forward and clapping a hand over his mouth. He nods frantically, hoping it will make Spidey stop torturing him. It feels too good, it’s just too much all at once, and his hips jerk up uncontrollably.

Webs pushes him back against the cold steel, slipping a spidery hand under Wade’s tight leather suit to press against his abdomen and pin him to the beam. Finally, mercifully, the hero’s lips part around the Omega’s length and begin to suck. His mouth is hot and soft and everything Wade needed it to be. He bobs his head, tongue playing along textured flesh as he sucks.

Wade groans, head falling back to rest against cold metal as Webs takes him in, forcing him deeper until the tip of his nose is pressed against the shifting scars of the merc’s abdomen. Wade can feel the hero’s throat convulsing around him as he fights not to gag or choke. The merc can feel the suffuse, tingling pleasure in his groin begin to tighten up, concentrating in his dick as the hero swallows it down over and over again.

The spider pulls off with a gasp, but Wade is prevented from following that perfect mouth by the hand still easily pinning him down. Webs sucks on the first few inches of Wade’s dick again, working the rest of his length with his free hand. He flashes those small Beta fangs again when he squeezes Wade’s little knot, grazing them delicately against hard flesh and making Wade unconsciously splay his thighs wider in keen submission.

“You taste so f*cking good, Wade.” Spidey licks up the precome that dribbles from Wade’s co*ck at the praise. “Did you like that? Are you nice and wet for me now?” His questing fingers dip between the Omega’s asscheeks and into his eager hole, plunging into the well-slicked heat when they meet almost no resistance.

“Ah f*ck! f*ck — sh*t — f*ck me! I need you to f*ck me,” Wade begs, no longer able to control his volume as Spidey pumps two, then three fingers in and out of his hole almost viciously. His fingers scrabble against the hero’s muscled shoulders, seeking purchase, anything to ground him as Spidey takes his co*ck back into his mouth. “Please, please, I need your co*ck in me. Oh sh*t! Oh god, it’s too much, it’s too much! Please, you’re gonna make me come!”

「Yes, yes, yes.」

The yellow box was practically shouting, their commentary so enthusiastic and insistent that Wade couldn’t ignore it anymore. It almost threw him from his fantasy headspace entirely. The mutate took a deep breath and tried to relax his body again.

His fingers slipped from between his legs and he grabbed the knotting toy off the nightstand. He slid down a little against the headboard, giving himself a better angle, and prodded at his asshole with the blunt head of the toy.

「Come on.」

All right, guess that was happening. He pushed the toy the rest of the way in, right up to the knot that pressed against the outside of his taut rim. He began to work it in and out of his body’s slick heat, savoring the stretch as it filled him.

Spidey pulls off Wade’s dick with a slight pop. “If you come, I'll just jerk off all over your face instead of f*cking you,” he threatens. That might be an enticing idea for another time, but Wade needs that knot in him now.

The hero’s lips, flushed and plump now, wrap around the mutate’s length again. He sucks deliberately, bug eyes trained on Wade’s half-masked face as he twists his fingers inside him.

“f*ck!” Wade bites out, head rolling back and forth as he tries to focus through the overstimulation. “Please stop, please. I can’t — Ah! You’re gonna make me — Please! I wanna be good! Stop, I wanna be good!”

Webs, finally, has mercy on him, licking up the merc’s shaft one last time before getting to his feet. “You beg so pretty, babe,” he says, then he tugs his suit down enough to free his co*ck. It springs to attention, flushed, and the tip already wet with precome. He pushes Wade’s pants a little further down his thighs. Without warning, the wallcrawler picks him up like it’s nothing, folding him in half with his back still pushed against the steel beam and his heavy combat boots framing Spidey’s head.

“Are you ready?” the Beta asks, co*ckhead gliding through Wade’s slick and barely catching on his rim as he ruts teasingly against him.

Wade nods his eager assent, words lost to him. Webs is holding him up with one hand then, guiding the fat head of his co*ck into him with the other. His bruising grip returns to Wade’s hip as he pushes into him. He drops Wade down onto those last couple inches of his co*ck so that they’re eye level with one another.

The wallcrawler pounds into the Omega at this new angle, impaling him on his co*ck like a specimen pinned down for display as those bug eyes bore into Wade’s face as if he can see right past the mask. They’re both just panting and moaning wordlessly at this point, and Wade has never wanted to take both their goddamn masks off more. Spidey shifts his weight as he f*cks into the merc, and that changes his angle just enough that he’s suddenly slamming into Wade’s prostate hard enough that Wade’s vision is whiting out at the edges.

“f*ck, oh f*ck! Right there, just like that! Oh sh*t, please don’t stop. f*ck yeah, right there, right there, right — ” Wade has found his voice again, and he babbles as he frantically pumps his dick, clutching at the hero’s stupidly-jacked twunk bicep with his other hand.

“Gonna come for me, babe? Uh-huh, come on. Come for me like a good boy. Come on, babe,” Webs murmurs in his ear as he rocks his thick co*ck into him one last time. He pushes his inflated knot all the way into Wade as he climaxes, painting the Omega’s insides. “f*ck! Be a good boy and come for me right now.”

Wade shoved the toy’s knot into his asshole over and over, f*cking himself on those last few inches as he desperately jerked his co*ck. He found himself curling involuntarily inward with the intensity of it.

“sh*t!” he swore under his breath as his org*sm hit him, less like a wave and more like a punch to the gut, so concentrated it was almost painful. He stroked himself through it, shooting his load across his bare stomach as his ass clenched around the toy still stretching him wide.

Wade’s head fell back against the headboard with a thud. The knot still inside him was suddenly too much, but his limbs were too heavy to move. Eventually, he gathered himself enough to work the toy out as gently as he could, whimpering at the overstimulation.

Without bothering to move his head, he groped around the bed for a face to put on, hoping one of his “off-duty” spandex masks was in arm’s reach. No such luck — and he’d left his work face in the heap outside the door. f*ck.

As if that weren’t enough, Wade heard Spidey’s voice in his head again, a loop of words he’d never hear from the real hero but that he couldn’t stop following even if he tried. Good boy babe good boy babe good boy babebabebabeBABE.

The mercenary laid on his back as the room got darker around him, breathing heavily. He stared, unmoving, at a crack in the ceiling as ji*zz slowly dried on his stomach and slick soaked into the sheets. His phone pinged — a Twitter notification for #SpideySpotting.

『Wonder how he’d feel if he knew what the two of you were just thinking about him.』

「Good thing we’ve been leaving the windows cracked.」

Wade and Spidey were wrapping up yet another evening of patrol, and Wade was trying to figure out an opening to invite the arachnid back to his apartment again (and trying not to think about how he’d probably end up jerking off as soon as Spidey left… again). They’d tracked some of the Manifredis for a while that night, but Silvermane wasn’t exactly meeting with the new Goblin for dinner every day. No opening there.

『Why is this still so difficult for you? He’s come over like a dozen times by now.』

The merc was dragging behind a little bit as they jumped across rooftops on the border with Hell’s Kitchen, having thrown himself in the way of a knife meant for the hero. Instead of thanking him, the goddamn wallcrawler had scolded him for putting himself in unnecessary danger. Then he’d fussed over the wound until Wade assured him for the fourth time that he would be fine.

“Do you think Daredevil will show up if I get too close to his neck of the woods?” Wade wondered aloud. “Because that guy is hot , Webs. All that red body armor? The sheer Catholic Guilt Aesthetic™? Yum.”

Spidey stopped so Wade could catch up again. “You’re still bleeding,” he said flatly, ignoring Wade’s question.

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll stop soon. So, Daredevil? What do you think?” the big Omega pressed.

“I think he can probably hear you talking, and he probably hates it,” Spidey answered. “Anyway, I think he’s on again right now with his murder-girlfriend.”

Wade staggered a little on the landing of his leap from one rooftop to the one on which the webslinger waited. Spidey was there in a flash, supporting his weight and helping him straighten up. “Be careful, ‘Pool,” he scolded in a tone that absolutely did not give Wade a total half-chub.

“Oh, I can share. Do you think I couldn’t handle two sexy red ninjas, Spidey?” Wade leered down at the hero. “Don’t worry, sweetums. Dat spider-booty is still the fairest of them all.” Okay, maybe the blood loss was starting to get to him a teensy bit.

“Whatever, weirdo.” Wade could practically hear the webslinger’s eyes roll. “Let’s get you home and get some food in you so you can heal up. Hop on, already.”

“But I’ll bleed all over you!”

“Well, then I’ll have to wash my suit later. It’s not like I’ve never bled on it before.” Spider-Man hoisted Wade onto his back. “C’mon, seriously, it’s like 1 am. Let’s grab food and get some Resident Evil in before I gotta crash. I’m dying for some of that glass noodle stir-fry from that place by your apartment again.”

Wade tried not to have feelings about Spider-Man inviting himself over to his nest and letting Wade buy him food, or about the fact that the webslinger hadn’t freaked out about seeing part of Wade’s actual face while they ate together.

「I’m all tingly.」

『Disgusting. Good thing he keeps his suit on, or we’d never get the smell of him out of our nest.』

Wade did not in fact end up bleeding all over the hero, as his stabber had been nice enough to get him from behind when he’d knifed him between two ribs and through a kidney. So that was nice.

『What an optimistic viewpoint on literally getting stabbed in the back.』

They made it back to Wade’s apartment much more quickly after he gave up and let Spidey carry him. The wallcrawler climbed down the wall from the roof, hopped onto the fire escape, and pushed open the unlocked window leading to Wade’s living room.

Wade climbed in first, the movement still a little stiff as his kidney finished healing up. Webs followed silently after, stepping around Wade’s slightly-bloody bootprints, then plopped himself on the floor in his usual spot, right next to where Wade curled up on the couch.

“Let me change into something a little less stabbed up,” Wade said. He was pretty sure he had a clean suit in his room. “Call in an order for your gross noodles and some almond chicken and lo mein for me. I should be out by the time it gets here.”

“Sounds good, ‘Pool,” the wallcrawler agreed, already turning on the television.

Wade did not have a clean Deadpool suit anywhere in his goddamn room, having been careless enough to get shot, stabbed, or covered in dumpster juice during his patrols with Spidey. “f*ck,” he said, softly and with great feeling.

「I told you we should have just ordered more from Big Ronnie.」

“That’s not helpful right now, dingus,” the ex-soldier hissed.

『Don’t call them a dingus, goofus.』

Was this how Spider-Man felt when he talked to Wade? No wonder he webbed him up and threatened to throw him off roofs all the time.

「He does that way less now though.」

“Anyway,” Wade said. “I can just…I can wear long sleeves, and I’ve got my off-duty face. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. It’s fine. Yup, totally fine.”

He continued muttering to himself in the same vein as he stripped off the bloodied suit, wiped the tacky blood from his mostly-healed flesh with something dark-colored out of the laundry basket (what, it wasn’t like he had to worry about getting an infection), and swapped his leather mask for spandex and combat gloves for ones of soft, black cotton. From the messy piles of clothing shoved into his closet, he pulled mismatched socks, track-pants, a soft, high-necked thermal, and a sweatshirt.

If Spider-Man was surprised to see Wade in civvies and a soft mask when he reemerged from his bedroom, he didn’t show it. The webhead barely glanced up as Wade threw open the windows and turned up the a/c, both to get the air circulating a little so his scent wasn’t as hard on the little hero and to help him keep cool with all the layers he was wearing while his body was burning up all that energy healing him.

“Pull up a controller, Big Red,” the spider said as Wade sat heavily on the couch.

The merc leaned forward to nab the second controller from the ground next to Webs, his thigh brushing against the hero’s shoulder as he did. Spidey didn’t even look over at the casual touch.

『Little Beta’s getting over his weird Omega aversion, huh?』

Wade didn’t say anything, just settled back with his leg still pressed against the wallcrawler so they could play the game. The merc got up to grab their food when it arrived, surreptitiously blocking the delivery person’s view of his guest.

「Just in case.」

『We don’t want to embarrass him.』

They divvied up the food quickly once Wade returned to his seat. The arachnid hardly hesitated before pushing up his mask to eat at this point, though Wade didn’t miss the last steadying breath he took through his mask filter before directly breathing in the concentrated pheromones of the merc’s nest. The hero conspicuously turned back toward the tv, where he would have only the barest peripheral view of Wade’s face.

「Squee! He’s so sweet.」

『Or he just doesn’t want to look at this raw hamburger face while he’s trying to eat.』

Wade frowned but pushed up his mask enough to eat anyway. Whatever, Spidey hadn’t flinched away yet — was leaning against Wade’s leg as much as the couch, even — , and the way he was tearing through his glass noodles, he didn’t have a problem with it.

『Yeah, yeah, keep your face on.』

“You ready to play some more?” the webhead twisted around to ask. “C’mon, the Egg Festival is tomorrow and I’m gonna kick your butt at the Egg Hunt.”

“Why did I agree to start a farm with you?”

“So you can help me decide between marrying Elliot for the sensitive writer husband and marrying Maru and having a cool inventor wife? Also, so I can school you in the fishing mechanic.”

“You can have Elliot. If they weren’t cowards, they’d let me romance Krobus,” Wade grumbled.

A startled laugh burst from Spidey’s mouth, color rising on the pale skin of his cheeks that Wade could see beyond the rucked-up edges of his mask. He’d never bothered to pull it down. Wade tried not to stare.

「Too bad he doesn’t wanna romance Shane. If he liked f*ck-ups, we might have a shot.」

“Let’s play some Resident Evil again, like you wanted,” Wade suggested. “I’m ready to shoot some stuff.”

Webs shrugged, but let Wade change the game. They played through a few levels, exchanging banter and leaning in toward one another.

『He’s only hanging out with you because you’re helping him with this Green Goblin sh*t. He wouldn’t be here otherwise.』

“Still haven’t heard anything from your Goblin source, huh?” Wade said suddenly. “Thought you were gonna handle it.”

“Nope,” said Webs, eyes still trained on the screen. “Says he needs a little more time. You?”

『Yeah, real busy. Busy sitting on our couch.』

“Nah, nothing’s popped up yet from my network,” Wade said with forced casualness. He looked over at Webs from his place on the couch. “I’m going to be leaving the city soon though. I have a job out of the area.”

“Oh.” Spidey sounded almost disappointed as he glanced up from his spot on the floor before returning his eyes to the game. “That’s good for you though, right?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I got a SHIELD contract. They’re a big fan of my sudden affinity for teamwork, so thanks for that, sweetums.” Wade nudged the hero with his socked foot.

“Oh, you were, like, serious about that. ”

“I mean, yeah. Did you think I was joking about Agent Agent’s deep love for me?”

“Uh… yes?”

“He’s just in denial. He adores my refusal to go by the book, my loose cannon ways, my maverick-ness-osity!”

“I’m sure Coulson loves all the paperwork you cause him, Thom Cruise,” Spidey responded drily as he shot the giant spider attacking his character.

「Oh, the irony. Chef’s kiss.」

『That’s not what irony is.』

“Exactly! Anyway, I totes take contracts from SHIELD and, like, the CIA, MI6, Mossad, whoever the hell’s got the green. I’ve even taken a couple of jobs with the Avengers. Ah, they hate me so much,” Wade said happily. “I just don’t advertise that sh*t publicly because who’s gonna hire me for the fun murder hobo jobs and stealing cool junk from heavily-guarded rich people if they find out I also contract out for the feds? Hard pass, Spidey-cakes.”

“If you say so,” Spider-Man said in a bemused tone, leaning back as if possibly a little horrified. “So yeah, you were serious about the SHIELD job. That’s cool, man. Good for you.”

“Chyeah. Sounds like it’ll be a total milk-run. I’ll be back in, like, a week, tops,” Wade informed the wallcrawler.

Webs perked up a bit. “You’ll be back after?”

“Duh? We’re not done here, are we?” Wade asked.

“Okay, yeah, good point,” Spidey laughed, posture relaxing again. “Well, uh, how about I give you my number? So I can keep you updated on the sitch while you’re gone, and stuff?”

“Uh, f-for sure, yeah, yes, totally!” Wade said extremely smoothly, being completely chill because it was definitely not a big deal and certainly not at all stumbling over his words in a mix of excitement and nerves.

『So smooth.』

「The smoothest.」

『Smooth as glass.』

「Like another very smooth thing.」

Spider-Man held out a hand for Wade’s phone. He rooted around in his utility belt, which he’d dropped on the floor by the couch when he first came into the apartment, until he found the banged-up little device. He quickly unlocked it and handed it to the hero, who wasted no time finding a reason to be disappointed in him.

“Do you not have an encrypted messenger on this thing? What, do you just take all your hits through Facebook Messenger?” he asked sarcastically.

Wade had actually arranged the details of more than one job through Snapchat when that was still a thing, and he’d done a surprising amount of networking on Instagram, but he wasn’t going to tell Webs that. “What, psh, definitely not!”

“I’m going to download Signal so you at least have a peer-to-peer encrypted messaging app. Literally, how has your phone never been hacked by one of your marks or a villain with a vendetta against you? I bet you leave your location tracking up on purpose,” Webs said as he fiddled with the phone’s settings, his disgust clear.

“Well, I’m fighting, like, Dracula and zombie Richard Nixon and stuff a statistically improbable amount of time. Most of those guys aren’t too great with the tech. Also sometimes I hang out with a mutant from the future and a chick whose superpower is being unbelievably lucky.” Wade at least had the decency to sound sheepish. “I have a teleportation belt I can use to bodyslide almost anywhere, I get drafted by space aliens on the reg, and I’m unkillable. Plus, it’s not like there’s anyone who matters to me who can get hurt in the crossfire. Honestly, most of the time I just don’t worry about it.”

The webslinger appeared to be seething at that for some reason. Nerds, man.

『Whatever you do, never mention that whole “Mithras” thing we did to Spider-Butt over there. He will lose. His. sh*t.』

“When you contact me,” Spidey said, once he’d gotten his apparent irritation under control, “you will use the p2p encryption app I just downloaded to your phone. If you ever text, call, or otherwise attempt to contact me through an unencrypted channel, I will change my number, and good luck getting it again.”

“I think you’re taking this a little too seriously.”

“And I think Iron Fist hasn’t had my phone number in two years even though I’m on a first-name basis with the rest of the Defenders.”

“C’mon, Webs! I’m way cooler than Danny Rand!” Wade cajoled.

“I think I’ve had enough experiences protecting people I love from being connected to Spider-Man, and I’m taking this exactly as seriously as I should be.”

Wade held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it. Jeez.”

「The Maximum Angst™ is usually a turn-on, but can he turn it down just a little ? Just a smidge?」

Spidey finally returned Wade’s phone to him. The merc immediately found the contact for “Spider-Man” and changed it to “Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Butt,” much to the dual amusem*nt and embarrassment of the boxes, before sending the hero a deluge of heart emojis in every available color.

“Had to make sure it worked,” he explained when the wallcrawler turned to him with narrowed lenses.

“I’ve never been text-spammed directly to my mask HUD before. That was terrible.” The severe tone was mitigated by the way the webhead’s still-exposed mouth twitched like he was suppressing a smile.

“Wait, your mask has fancy stuff in it?” Wade gasped. “No fair! How do I get my nerd to do that for me?”

“Great question. I do my own nerd upgrades for the suit. Maybe you could ask me very nicely.” Spidey’s mask winked.

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Peter was painting Aunt May’s kitchen, and he was having an existential crisis. Both were interminable, painful events that had been thrust upon him despite his best efforts to avoid them. Both were eating up his Saturday afternoon.

The first time he’d been overwhelmed with Deadpool’s scent in the middle of his nest had been horrible. Not because Wade smelled horrible. Wade smelled kind of nice. It had been a lot to suddenly take in on top of the low buzz of his senses from being in the merc’s weapon-filled personal space, and Peter had freaked out. Wade had handled it… really well, and Peter had willingly visited Wade’s apartment several more times before he left on a contract that was “totally aboveboard, Webs, I pinky-swear.” The arachnid even got used to the concentrated scent of Omega smacking him in the face every once in a while, though it helped that Wade aired the place out and kept all the windows open while Peter was there.

Peter had then gone and given Deadpool Spider-Man’s phone number, about twelve seconds after lying to him about having trouble getting info on Harry’s current situation from his “source.” Okay, all that might not have been the source of the existential crisis in and of itself. A little fib about his source only protected both Harry’s identity and his own. The phone was something he could rationalize as part of the case they were working on together. After all, the pair of them needed to keep in contact, this was way more efficient than trying to plan a meet-up in the middle of his patrols every other night, and Wade wanted to stay up to date on the investigation while he was out of town. The phone number and the guilt over the white lie were just the latest nail in the coffin, a coffin built of co-op video games, easy banter, and polite respect for Peter’s physical boundaries during late nights being carried around the city — it was just easier than always waiting for him to catch up — and sliding closer together on Wade’s couch as they shared greasy takeout.

Peter was on a first-name basis with a masked mercenary murderer, and he kept forgetting those facts about the other man when they were bouncing quips off each other to annoy whatever petty criminal they were dealing with. Wade liked to send him Star Trek memes and the weirdest posts in the #SpideySpotting tag. Wade listened to his advice and admonishments when they were on patrol together, and Peter felt a lot less worried about the existence of a whole new Green Goblin with Deadpool at his back than he would have if he were all alone dealing with this. Wade was actually silly and patient and kind of cool, and he had an even dumber sense of humor than Peter.

Peter was starting to like Wade Wilson. He had more fun and was more relaxed sitting on the Omega’s floor, playing video games and talking and eating whatever Wade decided to buy for dinner that night, than anytime he could remember since, well… Honestly, it had been so long since he’d been able to relax and enjoy himself like this, he couldn’t even remember. Maybe not even since before Gwen had — Not for a long time. He was going to miss teaming up with Wade after they’d handled this latest threat to his city.

“Don’t think so hard, dear. You might strain yourself,” May said, interrupting his reverie.

“Sorry, May! Almost done here. Just finishing up this window trim.” He was not done having an existential crisis. The whole painting metaphor had gotten away from him entirely and very quickly. He sighed.

“If you say so. It’s so nice to see you, Peter. I missed you.” She beamed at him, bright eyes framed by soft crow’s feet and laugh lines that only made her smile sweeter. “Come on then, finish up your work so that we can sit down and catch up for a bit before you have to run off to save the world of some hopeless undergraduate who’s failing chemistry or something.”

“You got me there,” Peter snorted.

“So, how’s school been, dear?” the grey-haired Omega prompted.

Peter shrugged. “Haven’t had a nervous breakdown yet, so that’s always a plus. I’m making great progress on the practical side of things! I’ve been messing with a few computer models for the dispersal mechanism that look promising, so I’m focusing on the cryogenic fluid mix, for now, to try and narrow that down. I had some ideas about cryocoolers while I was working on it, but ZBO systems aren’t really what I’m focused on here. I’m thinking more along the lines of medical applications for cryonics than rocket science, y’know?” He had taken the time to scrawl down a few notes to send over to Reed Richards when he’d been distracted by that tangent, but that was more of a Spider-Man thing than anything to do with Peter Parker. Anyway, May’s eyes were starting to glaze over the way they did when he started talking too fast about something for which she had no context, so he decided to move the conversation along.

“Anyway, the actual paper and presentation haven’t been going as well, but that’s Lamaze for you. You know, Deb told me that he made Anna Maria cry during their last meeting?”

“Deb?” May questioned. “Oh, wait, do you mean that Debra girl who’s always talking to you when you call me between sections? She sounds so nice over the phone.” Darn Aunt May and her loving attentiveness; if she was more proactive about it, she could give a yenta a run for her money.

Of course, she’d remember the name of anyone Peter mentioned to her more than once. She’d done the same thing when Peter had casually dropped Eddie Brock’s name a few times after he’d been paired off with the journalist at the Bugle. Brock was cute, sure, but he’d made it clear that Peter wasn’t his type before dropping everything and moving back to San Francisco. Of course, May was just excited that he was “spending time with your peers, Peter, instead of being such a hermit all the time!” Deb, on the other hand…

“Yeah, you caught me,” Peter admitted with a smile. “Debra Whitman. She’s an admin for the chemistry department? She’s really sweet, but she likes to tease me. You’d like her. She’s an Omega though,” he added with a slight frown.

“Ah,” May nodded. While his aunt didn’t know the full context, she understood that he’d been wary of attaching himself to another Omega after his close bond with Gwen had ended so horribly and suddenly. “Well, I’m sure that you’ll figure it out if you like each other.”

“I guess. It’s just… a lot,” Peter said.

“How so?” Aunt May asked, settling down onto the stepladder near Peter to listen.

Ben had been an Omega too, and while that had certainly made for an odd dynamic in their family — especially once Peter finally presented and there were two rather territorial Omegas bumping up against the baby Alpha crowded into the small Reilly-Parker household — it at least meant that May wasn’t going to harass Peter about needing to get over himself and settle down with an Omega like some other people’s folks still did. Not being enhanced herself (not that she knew this was a factor) and having Bonded with another Omega relatively young, she didn’t have the firsthand context of the way other people’s pheromones tended to metaphorically punch Peter in the sinuses and create a physiological reaction before he had a chance to process the information.

May was also just unbelievably kind and considerate and accepting. Before Gwen, Peter’s hypersensitive reactions to others’ pheromones mostly just meant the occasional awkward erection or wave of anxiety stemming from no apparent source, which thankfully neither of the older Omegas gave him much guff about as he learned to manage it.

After he’d killed Gwen, May had sat with Peter so many times he’d lost count because he’d started panicking due to someone else’s emotions creating a response in him before he was able to process any of it. The mask filters helped when he was on patrol or when he was alone, but Spider-man couldn’t go out and buy groceries or attend an engineering lecture. May’s patient guidance had helped him get through those times until he’d learned to soothe himself and regulate his responses again. Having watched that, she never pushed him too hard on the people he mentioned (even if she did hoard information Peter dropped about anyone he might care about), much less dig into their suitability as a romantic partner based on anything as trivial as gender or dynamic.

“Peter?” his aunt prompted. “You’re going to drip paint, sweetheart.”

“Oh! Sorry, May.”

“Now, how is it a lot?” she asked again.

“I don’t know. I guess I don’t freak out as much when I get pheromone-bombed anymore, even with, like, heat or rut scent. I’ve been hanging out with this guy from — uh, from another department, sometimes,” he explained, tripping up only briefly in his explanation of all the time he was innocently spending in Wade’s nest.

“He keeps his space pretty aired out, so that helped a lot with being exposed to unfamiliar Omega scents all the time. I don’t always — uh, it doesn’t just make me think of her every time. Anyway, that’s not the point here. The point is that Deb is really awesome and funny and cool and super cute, and she likes talking to me, and I see her all the time for school. What if we go out and it’s actually terrible, or I totally freak out on her, or something? Then I’ll still have to see her all the time and have to pretend that everything is chill and that I didn’t make an idiot out of myself, and it will be the worst.”

“Oh, Peter,” May laughed. “You get yourself into such a tizzy about things before they’ve even happened. Maybe you just need to give it a shot. The worst thing that can happen is that she says no, or you two only have an okay date and decide to stay friends. Is that so bad? Now, what’s this about a second new friend you’ve got? You’ve turned into a regular social butterfly!”

Darn him and his rambling, oversharing explanations. This was what he got for letting May get at him while he was all zenned out on some repetitive task. At least her kitchen was going to look amazing by the time he was done.

Peter spent the rest of his Saturday afternoon and early evening half-answering May’s questions about Wade and what Peter himself had been doing with his sparse spare time as he painted the kitchen and scrubbed down the counters and floors after he finished up.

When he finally headed out, he crossed paths with a neighbor he really shouldn’t have been so surprised to run into, if he’d paid any attention to Aunt May’s frequent comments during their phone conversations.

“Hey, Red. Long time, no see,” Peter greeted the gorgeous, auburn-haired Beta warmly. “How’s it going?”

“Hi, Pete! I — Well, to be honest, I didn’t exactly expect to see you around here. May said it had been a while since your last visit,” MJ returned with a hesitant smile of her own.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I guess it’s been a little while. You know how it is. Thesis, homework, teaching,” he paused momentarily, glancing up and down the empty alley to reassure his quiet Spidey-Sense. “My other job’s been keeping me busy lately, too.”

“Is that so?” MJ asked. “I follow that ridiculous tag on Twitter, you know. I’ve seen some interesting things recently. Surprised the Bugle hasn’t had an article about it.”

“Yeah, well, their freelancer isn’t exactly going to be sending them photos of Spider-Man hanging around an even bigger menace, is he?” Peter sniffed.

“So who is the leather daddy, Brown Eyes?” Mary Jane pressed, keeping the razzing fond with the old nickname. She leaned on the fence between their yards, eyebrows raised. “Is he new? Why are you palling around with him?”

Peter shushed her, looking around again, before leaning in himself and speaking just above a whisper. MJ had always been a good person to bounce his theories off of before, and it was almost a relief to tell her about them now.

“We have a… common goal. It looks like some group of evil sciencey types he fights had something to do with developing the Goblin formula, or at least with creating a new one. There’s another Green Goblin out there, MJ.” It was a wildly simplified answer, but it would have to do for now. Peter didn’t even know most of Wade’s story, himself.

MJ tilted her head up to meet his eyes, her own wide with trepidation. She was close; he could feel her warm, soft breath puffing across his skin as she spoke. “But Harry’s still at Wellbridge. I see him at least once a month.”

Peter’s brow knitted in distress. “Red, I didn’t say it was Harry. I just went up to see him myself. There’s no way he’s capable of it, in this state. He can barely remember that — ” He swallowed hard. “That Gwen and Norman are dead, much less that he should hate me.”

“He shouldn’t hate you, Pete. He was trying to kill Spider-Man even after he knew what Norman did, and you still saved his life,” Mary Jane objected. “But yeah, you are right about that. His doctor’s been trying to work with him on managing the headaches and anxiety. Even though he seems to be fine now, his memories of that whole period are, like, permanently messed up from practically cracking his head open when he fell off the glider.” She shuddered, likely remembering the mess Harry had been when they’d first gone to see him in the hospital; Spider-Man had left him at the emergency room, and Peter had dashed straight to Mary Jane’s apartment as quickly as he could so she, at least, could be there when Harry woke up. They hadn’t known, then, how long the doctors would decide to keep the Beta in a coma.

“It’s still pretty bad,” Peter agreed. “So, I think there’s a third Goblin — a new one. I think I need to visit Harry again though. Maybe there will be something in there that can help me figure out how the new guy is getting his Oscorp access codes. Besides, I know — I know I haven’t gone as much as I should. I should try to make up for lost time.” Peter didn’t want to admit that he was still unsettled by how strangely his last attempt to visit Harry on his own had gone.

“Maybe he’ll be happy to see you if you try again.” She smiled, her expression softening. “I hope you find something.”

“Hey, Red? Maybe you could come with me?” Harry might be less distressed and respond to him a little more positively with the redhead there, especially if she’d been visiting him regularly. Besides, it would be nice to spend some time with her on the drive. It had been a while. Maybe he’d have something to tell Wade too, this way.

“Yeah, Brown Eyes. That’d be really nice.”

Peter dismissed several messages from Wade off his lens display as he dutifully drawled through the ductwork and elevator shafts of the Oscorp building once again. With the mercenary safely away from the city, this reconnaissance of the offices and labs had been almost disconcertingly uneventful, if relatively fruitful. He’d reconnoitered the upper floors for an unattended security badge to clone and easily made it to the new server rooms in the repaired basem*nt area of the building. There’d been an indication that they’d tried to salvage whatever was left of their data after the explosion, but anything they’d recovered had been transferred off-site to another server — likely in whatever lab they were planning to run their next set of experiments. They’d also used Harry’s digital credentials once again to order the changes. Hopefully, Peter and Wade would figure out who was behind this before it got too far off the ground.

The spider made it back out of the building and circled through a quick early afternoon patrol before heading back to his drop-site to change back into street clothes. Once back on the rooftop of the day, he fired off a quick series of texts to let the mercenary know what he’d found, adding that he’d try to trace the IP of the new server through Oscorp’s VPN and look into public records for the area from which it originated for clues as to the new Goblin’s base of operations.

Peter rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh. How the heck did the guy manage to survive this long with such a willful disregard for his digital privacy? Ridiculous. He toggled the settings of his SpideyPhone and turned his own regular Android back on so he could get back to planning a visit to Wellbridge with MJ. It was weird to keep the SpideyPhone phone on because he was expecting messages, but he didn’t want to miss any texts from Wade, either. Just in case something important came up concerning the Goblin case, obviously.

Most of their messages had been like that, a brief imparting of information, followed by a few exchanges before it petered out. Every once in a while, they’d catch one another at the right time, and Peter had found himself laughing almost as much as he did when they were hanging out in person.

That night, Peter was taking a much-needed break and shoveling cold leftovers in his face before patrol, and Wade was holed up somewhere letting a leg grow back (what was he doing on this supposed milk-run?). They’d somehow gone from Peter trying to explain something about the Goblin formula, to debating whether or not the “hard” parts of hard sci-fi made them so daunting and inaccessible that people missed out on great stories, to Peter reminiscing about Eccleston’s Ninth Doctor and wishing he’d gotten into Doctor Who when Russel T. Davies was still the showrunner.

And that was how Peter learned that Wade had joined up with Department K and the Weapon Plus program as a last-ditch effort to cure incurable cancer, and had had a mutation forced on him just like Peter (well, not just like Peter — far, far worse than a measly spider bite). He learned how Wade had later been foisted off to Hospice to die but had destroyed the whole horrible set-up instead, earning the name for his masked identity.

Hearing Wade so casually talk about how he had become Deadpool and filled in the blanks of everything the merc was being so careful not to say — that he’d had a Bond with some firebrand of a lady Alpha and died by inches through the loss of her, that he’d been poked and prodded and tortured in and out of heat until his body and mind had broken, that he’d survived and subsequently been happy to eviscerate anyone even remotely related to Weapon X — Peter found himself once again reevaluating his judgments of the mercenary, comparing his violence to Wolverine and Black Widow and the Winter Soldier and every other hero Peter had found himself working beside who had once been tortured or brainwashed or controlled, none of whom would hesitate to kill if that was what they deemed truly necessary.

Perhaps Peter was being unfair to Deadpool by holding him to his standards of morality.

Then again, perhaps not.

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

Peter dropped down onto Karnelli’s desk the moment the Maggia don’s office door was shut.

“Greetings, Spider-Man,” the grey-haired man nodded.

Peter could hear the barest hum of the room’s security systems, and his Spidey-Sense thrummed lowly. The office seemed to be more heavily-guarded since the pair had last crossed paths. Peter could only hope the changes had been to protect himself from the new Goblin rather than a gift from him.

“Mister Karnelli,” the arachnid greeted cautiously. “I would say it’s nice to see you, but I was raised not to lie.”

The Maggioso laughed. “Please, Spider-Man, call me Ando. No need to be so formal after you’ve broken into my home. And what should I call you by?”

“Spider-Man’s good, Mister Ando.”

“Very well,” Karnelli chortled.

“Well, I guess you know why I’m here.”

“I suppose I do,” the silver-haired man agreed.

“And?” Peter pressed.

“The Karnellis remain uninterested in taking orders, especially from one of you costumed freaks,” Ando replied, calm despite the distaste clear in his tone. He pulled out his chair, startling Peter into leaping onto the wall. “A little jumpy today, spider?”

All right, maybe Peter was a little on edge, being in enemy territory and making the kind of negotiations he normally found repugnant and all. Still, he refused to rise to the bait of the mild jab, opting instead to walk casually up the wall and crouch down on the ceiling. “Y’know, normally I’d be offended, but I can’t say you don’t have a point, in this case. Plus, I’m too busy being worried about the costumed lunatic that wants to take over your territory, make it actively a worse place for its residents to raise their families, and oh yeah, probably murder the family heads and also me. Not that the last one is a problem for you, I imagine.”

“I can’t say that it would be,” the don replied mildly. “And yet here you are. I suppose I’d rather throw in with a known entity for a brief truce than have that green ghoul haunting me.”

“And the other families?”

“All you’re asking us to do is continue staying out of the way for a little while longer. It wasn’t a difficult sell. Perhaps it would have been faster if you’d let my boys go instead of getting them arrested and making me post bail.”

“Your boys should have been less obvious about making a dead-drop, and the one I left free should have skedaddled instead of hanging around,” Peter countered.

“Maybe he should have,” the silver-haired man granted. “In any case, you’ve managed to secure yourself a temporary truce. Never thought I’d see the day the wallcrawler compromised.”

“But what about Fisk? Tombstone? Mister Negative? Toomes or Schultz?” Peter pressed, scrabbling for any other enhanced criminal with the loosest organizational affiliation or particular grudge against a certain arachnid-themed hero. He stood and began to pace. “Will they have sided with the Goblin already?”

Karnelli snorted. “You think Wilson Fisk would bow to anyone who didn’t already have an entire army mobilized and at his throat? Don’t be ridiculous. Negative’s stirring up trouble somewhere else, and Tombstone throws in wherever Fisk does,” he explained. “From what I can tell, the Goblin’s not interested in any of your small-fry animal-themed weirdos. The Vulture’s an old man, and the Rhino, the Shocker and the like are more of a liability than they’re worth. This guy’s practically a reasonable businessman, you know, for a Halloween-themed psycho.”

Peter continued to pace, still upside down. “Is that it, then? Now I’m just supposed to take you at your word and be on my way?”

“You tell me, Spider-Man.” The don leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach, apparently unperturbed by the vigilante making bootprints all over his ceiling.

The blue-and-red arachnid dropped silently to the ground right in front of Karnelli. “Talk to the families. Send me a message with their answers. It shouldn’t be too hard for your boys to find me. And our truce?”

“Only holds if the other families agree. I can’t be seen backing you against the rest of the Maggia. It’s not a good look for a man who wants to remain in power.”

Peter would have to take what he could get at this point. Besides, what if Deadpool never came back? “Understood.” He opened the window and hopped up onto the sill. “Hopefully I don’t see you around.”

“The sentiment is mutual, Spider-Man,” Don Karnelli chuckled. Peter crawled out and shut the window behind himself.

Spider-Man slingshotted off the edge of the building on Junction Ave and performed a twisting front-flip before thwipping out a web and catching himself just over pedestrians’ heads. A few of them snapped photos of his showy moves, and a rowdy group of boys spilling out of a liquor store yelled raucously as he passed overhead. He couldn’t help the wide smile that stretched across his face as he whooped in response.

Peter was savoring his time swinging freely across the city with no extra weight holding him down or anyone to slow him up. Not that he didn’t enjoy having back-up, of course. Not that he didn’t miss Deadpool’s company, or that he hadn’t grown accustomed to it over the past weeks until it felt strange to be alone again. He had to admit though, it was nice to let loose and do a few flourishing, acrobatic flips or let himself skim close to the sidewalk just because he could.

The people still videoing him as he flipped away reminded Peter that he should take some more photos of himself on patrol while Deadpool wasn’t with him. His supply of new photographs to send into the Bugle in exchange for whatever he could get out of them as a freelancer was running low, and he didn’t want Wade to catch him taking photos.

Not to mention, he didn’t need to contribute his own photographic evidence of his time teaming up with the mercenary to the Bugle’s attempts to slander him into the ground — especially if somehow his recent, if minimal, communication with the head of the Karnelli family came to light. Maybe that was a little unfair, but Wade wouldn’t be around forever, and Spider-Man’s reputation still needed to be intact enough for him to do his job after the mutate left.

He’d scheduled himself a relatively standard afternoon patrol that took him circling Aunt May’s neighborhood in Forest Hills and all the way up to Jackson Heights, breaking up a string of brawls, petty thefts, and minor drug deals. The most exciting part of his day was a solid twenty-five minutes spent shepherding three drunk teenagers back home after he’d found them drinking under the bleachers at a park, making sure they made it safely inside before he continued on his way, and that was only because he didn’t have three hands and had to keep circling them like a darn collie to keep them herded together and safely on the sidewalk.

His HUD pinged with a new notification as he made an improbable leap from the sidewalk to the top of a lamppost. He crouched down to check it out properly on his SpideyPhone. Hmm, it had taken the better part of a day after he’d written the script, but it looked like his computer had finally finished tracking the path of the data he’d cloned from Oscorp.

It appeared as if the new Goblin was storing the files for whatever his long-term plan was from a server in… Long Island? Who made their villainous lair in Long Island?

Peter shook his head. Maybe once the actual files finished decrypting, he’d have a few more answers. He couldn’t do more until he could corner someone higher up in one of the weaker Maggia families and make them listen long enough to find out if the Goblin had managed to make any headway yet. He’d just have to add dropping in on more of their known holdouts to his daily rounds if the head of the Karnelli family didn’t respond to him soon.

It certainly could be worse. He’d hardly heard whispers of the newest Goblin during his patrols, characterized more by the shape of his absence than by a visible presence. If he hadn’t been in the know about the original Green Goblin’s MO and already had the link to Oscorp, he might have never picked up on it. At least he wasn’t spending all his time dodging pumpkin bombs and razor bats yet.

Another notification pinged on his HUD — his final patrol warning alarm. If he didn’t head back now, he’d be late for the chem section he TA’d, which meant that would run late, and then he’d be late for his own engineering lecture, and then he’d be stuck extra late in the materials lab working on his thesis.

He backflipped out of the apex of his swing, turning in a new direction toward where he’d left his things. He might have just enough time to stop once or twice more on his way to school if he just picked up his stuff and webbed his way back to midtown instead of taking the subway.

Peter leaned heavily against the door of his little apartment, exhausted from a long day of patrol, teaching, and research. He figured he should use his few uninterrupted hours of free time to edit the photos he’d taken the other day and email a few to the Bugle, instead of just crashing into bed for an impromptu nap like he wanted to be doing.

Plus, he really needed to wash his spare Spidey suit, or he’d reek enough on his evening patrol that the bad guys would turn themselves just to get away from him. The second one sounded a little more achievable to his fried brain and didn’t require staring at a computer screen again. He ran his hand along the top shelf of the closet until he felt the Kevlar-reinforced panels of the suit across his fingertips, pulling it out from behind his sleeping bag and extra blankets.

He didn’t quite have a grip on it, and the red-and-blue suit fell right on his face. Ugh, gross. It smelled like stale sweat, a little like the green curry he’d spilled on himself when he’d been given free food by some grateful restaurant owners earlier in the week, and, surprisingly strongly, of the oddly-fresh and sharp scent of Wade’s nest — that is, of Deadpool’s apartment.

Maybe he was just starting to spend too much time at Wade’s place because that strong Omega scent was actually kind of nice. The young hero pulled the suit off his face, and he was about to take it to the bathroom to handwash in the sink when he realized that getting a face-full of Deadpool’s pheromones had short-circuited his brain enough for his body to get excited — so excited that his co*ck was now pressing almost painfully into the zipper of his jeans.

He adjusted himself a little and walked across his little studio apartment toward the bathroom. He was just going to pretend that never happened, yup. Besides, his raging boner could have nothing at all to do with getting overwhelmed by Deadpool’s pheromones. He’d been crazy horny recently for no apparent reason, and then stretching himself too thin to do enough about it when he did have time to himself. Plus, hadn’t he been thinking about Debra already before he’d gotten inside his apartment? It was probably just a reaction to his anticipation about seeing her for real outside of a university setting, and it had nothing to do with that big, broad, muscular mercenary.

Peter braced his forearm against the cool wall and opened his fly, taking himself in hand. Might as well, now that he was here. Maybe he’d be able to concentrate a little better afterward. He tried to think of a long blonde ponytail, an intent face behind round glasses, and a narrow chin with soft, pink lips upturned in a perpetual smile just for Peter that would probably feel amazing to kiss.

He got another whiff of Wade’s scent from the piece of his suit still clenched in his hand and instead, all he could think about was the smell of his gloves and the shoulder of his suit where it had been pressed against Wade’s leg. The pastel colors and blonde hair were overshadowed by a hulking, red-and-black figure.

“Crap!” Peter hissed before finally giving up. He couldn’t think about anything else even if he wanted to, so distracted by the image of the stupid merc, of the memory of that big, tight body held close against him every time they patrolled. Forehead thudding against the wall in defeat, he began to stroke himself again.

Peter grabbed Deadpool by two of the many straps of his tight, red costume, pulling it even tighter around gorgeous muscles as he pulled the other man off the fire escape he was climbing and up onto the roof beside him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Nice to see you too, Webs,” Deadpool said from where the arachnid had dropped him to the rooftop.

“So…” Peter began. “No one can see us up here.”

“What’s your point, bug boy?” the merc asked, feigning nonchalance as he sat back against the building’s parapet.

Peter stepped forward to loom over the larger man, making him swallow audibly. He palmed his own growing arousal through the spandex. “What do you think, pretty boy?” he asked Wade.

The ex-soldier swallowed hard, and Peter could smell his interest and arousal, the scent sharper when not sweetened and muddled with the musk of heat. His dick got that harder under his hand, and he could feel his pulse begin to race in response to Wade’s excitement.

Peter circled the base of his co*ck, grabbing it tight just below the knot. He thought he’d have to be careful with Wade, knowing that the Omega was nervous around Alphas, but allowed himself to believe so certainly, in his dazed and aroused state, that he’d let Spider-Man take care of him.

He wondered if Wade’s palms and fingers were just as scarred as the parts of his face that Peter had seen, or if it would feel different to have that big hand wrapped around himself instead of his own. He turned his face to get closer to the scent clinging to his suit, smelling it again. f*ck, it smelled so much like Wade, almost like he’d scented the fabric.

Peter slowly dragged the bottom half of his suit down, letting his co*ck spring free and bounce inches from the Omega’s face. “No guesses?”

“f*ck, you can’t just pull that out in front of me in public, Pete.”

“We’re not in public,” Peter pointed out mildly. “Like I said, no one can see us.”

“Oh, it’s like that, huh, bug boy?” Wade surged forward on his knees, pushing his masked face right up against the Alpha’s scent glands and inhaling deeply. He nuzzled as close as he could to the crease of Peter’s thigh and groin like he was trying to get that scent all over himself.

Peter stroked lazily at his co*ck with one hand. With the other, he peeled up the lower half of Wade’s Deadpool mask, exposing a wide mouth with lips that might have once had a pouting, slightly-uneven cupid’s bow beneath all the scarring. He curled his hand possessively around Wade’s strong jaw and pushed his thumb past blunt teeth to press down on Wade’s tongue until the man began to suck tentatively on it.

“Good boy,” the spider praised. “You wanna keep being good and help me get off before we call it a night?”

Wade moaned affirmatively around his thumb, making Peter smile. The hero pushed his leggings down a little further, freeing his sack and removing any obstruction from the scent glands at his groin. He slid his finger free of Wade’s mouth to roll his balls in his hand.

The merc took the opportunity to rise and try to plant a sloppy kiss on the head of Peter’s co*ck.

Peter let him get close before leaning away. “Ah, ah, ah. Did I say that’s how you were helping me?”

“What, are you just gonna f*ckin’ tease me? That’s cruel and unusual punishment, Pete. I got rights!” Wade complained.

Peter pulled Wade close again, shutting him up by pressing the merc’s mouth right up against one of his sensitive scent glands right at the crease of his groin. “Why don’t you be a good boy and get my scent all over you like you mean it?”

The arachnid breathed in Wade’s scent mixed so perfectly with his own from the gloves fisted in his hand. His grip on his co*ck tightened briefly, and it throbbed and dribbled a clear string of precome onto his fingers. He let that smooth the glide of his hand up and down his shaft as he f*cked up into his hold.

Wade eagerly sucked and lapped at the place Peter had pushed his face, edging closer until his whole torso was plastered against the webslinger’s leg. Peter watched in eager fascination as the Omega opened the front of his suit and began to stroke his dick as he mouthed at Peter’s groin, obscured as the view was.

The wallcrawler alternated between stroking himself and squeezing his knot as he watched Wade work himself up below him. “You want me to come for you?” he asked. “Get your mouth on these balls.”

He didn’t have to tell the mutate twice before the scarred-up mouth worked its way over a few inches and opened to lick at Peter’s sack instead. Wade gently sucked the hero’s balls into his mouth one at a time, rolling them and swirling his tongue around them, then releasing them and switching back to the other. Even as he dedicated himself to the task, he kept jerking himself off like he was trying to come in sync with Peter.

“Oh yeah, you’re being so good for me, Wade,” Peter groaned, eyes roving over the merc’s broad shoulders and what he could see of the thick, leather-clad body. He locked eyes with the Deadpool mask, the sight of his own co*ck against that dangerous face somehow wildly thrilling. “Sit back and stick your tongue out. I want to come in your mouth.”

“Yeah, Pete. I wanna taste you.” The merc sat back on his heels, still f*cking into his gloved hand. He stuck his tongue out obediently and tilted his pockmarked, half-masked face up toward the hero again.

Peter could feel himself getting close, and he leaned forward until the underside of his co*ck was slapping against Wade’s tongue with almost every stroke. “Gonna come all over that face, pretty boy,” he panted.

sh*t, when had Peter given up on trying not to notice how hot Deadpool was? Even under all the guns and wild threats and the broken-open skin that looked so painful, he found himself glad that his mask concealed exactly where his eyes were directed. He shook his head to clear it, just trying to finish at this point. He could be existential about it later.

Peter smeared his co*ckhead around the disfigured cupid’s bow of Wade’s mouth and across his tongue. “Gonna come all over that face, pretty boy,” he panted. Wade only opens his mouth further, the eyes of the Deadpool mask widening. That eager, almost-innocent expression did it for Peter as his co*ck spurted thick, white ropes across Wade’s tongue, cheeks, and mask. “Ah, f*ck!”

The hero’s chest heaved as he tried to recover. Even after a pretty intense org*sm, his co*ck was still half-hard, and his sack felt full and tender with the need to be emptied. This was what he got for shoving his face in Omega pheromones while he jerked off. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be thinking about anyone of that dynamic like that, after all.

He brushed light touches up and down his sensitive length idly until he was back to full hardness, then thrust mercilessly into his hand, the way slicked by the seed coating his fingers. Even after throwing his Wade-scented suit to the ground, he couldn’t stop himself from continuing to fantasize about the mercenary, about using his strength to pin down the brawny man after some of his stupid flirting and f*ck him within an inch of his life. Peter groaned as he came into his own hand again, some of it spurting up across his stomach and the hem of his shirt as he squeezed his knot.

f*ck, he was still so worked up. This was just ridiculous. Peter scooped up his suit off the floor again, keeping it far away from his nose. He wiped his messy hand across his t-shirt on his way to the bathroom. After filling the sink with cold water and detergent and dropping the Spidey suit in to soak, he turned the shower on for himself.

The arachnid stepped into the water while it was still heating up. While the cooler water made rinsing his hands a little easier, it did nothing to dampen the electricity still prickling under his skin. Peter quickly gave in to the urge to touch himself again, not even bothering to try to think about anything but the dangerous mutate who had inserted himself into his life. Palming his oversensitive co*ck, he started to jerk off again.

Finding himself needing just a little more stimulation for a third round, the brunet squirted a little conditioner on his fingers and shoved two of them in his ass. He leaned heavily against the shower tiles as he sought out his prostate with one hand and thrust his co*ck into the tight circle of the other. He just needed to work this out of his system.

“Wade!” the desperate hero cried out as his co*ck spilled out over his hand and across the shower tile, hole clenching tight around his fingers. He let the stream of water wash over him, rinsing away the evidence as he eased his fingers out of himself and calmed down.

Peter roughly, silently scrubbed himself down in the cooling shower, his dick finally exhausted, if not entirely sated. Even spider-powers had their limits.

That had been… well, it had been something. He wasn’t exactly sure what. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know, even if he had time to figure it out — Deadpool had said he’d be back in less than a week, and it had already been four days. He couldn’t just introduce Wade to the guy under the mask, as much as he was finding himself enjoying the merc’s company, as much as he knew he actually would miss the man when they caught the new Goblin and he left Peter’s city. Anyway, Deadpool liked Spider-Man, not Peter Parker.

He should just get it together and ask Deb on that darn date already. Plus, he still needed to wash his suit.

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

Wade’s phone dibbled. He had a while before anything interesting was going to happen on this mission anyway, so he checked it, even though there was only one or two people it could be, considering he already had Pres-bot in an earbud and Weasel was still mad at him for showing up in his San Francisco apartment in the middle of the night to demand a whole host of new bodyslide coordinates be programmed into the device.

『I don’t think Cable’s talking to us right now, and lil ol’ Al only calls. It’s pretty much just the Spider-Babe.』

「Wait, I thought Weasel was upset because we spent the whole time talking about whether or not the ending of Supernatural constituted a hate crime.」

『I’m pretty sure he’s mad because you explained what Destiel shippers were to him like six times, and then you tried to make him re-watch the whole series with you.』

“No, only from when Cas shows up in season four!” Wade protested.

『He said, like that somehow made his demands more reasonable.』

Spidey had been sending Wade occasional updates on the little headway he’d made in the Goblin case. Initially, that had been the sum total of their exchanges.

After a couple of days, Wade had figured out how to tease a little conversation out of the guy, joking with him and throwing out scraps of personal information — Wade Wilson was a known entity, so who cared what the guy knew about him if he learned more about the arachnid in return — until something he shared baited the webslinger enough that he was hooked into talking about himself and his opinions outside of his role as a hero. Spidey even put up with his ridiculous, cheesy flirting over text in a way he’d have walked away from if they were on patrol together in person.

『Real case of Schrodinger’s Flirting there, huh?』

Yeah, like the boxes knew how to spit game. Anyway, he’d ended up dropping tidbits about dropping out of high school in Canada and making his way to the U.S. to join the army, about getting slated for Special Forces and never looking back. He told him about Weapon X and let Spidey pry out more details than he’d initially planned about the way they’d been weirdly into poking around in him more when he was in heat without sharing any of the more horrifying and graphic details of what they’d done. He’d even somehow ended up sharing that he wasn’t wild about Alphas because of his experience with Department K and having lost his Alpha without going into detail about how Vanessa had been brainwashed and Copycat had been turned into a tool to keep him in line.

In exchange, he’d learned that Spidey really had been bitten by a radioactive spider — 

「We already knew that. We’re our special boy’s biggest fan.」

『But the big guy didn’t know, because it’s not narratively interesting if he can just know things like Spidey’s secret identity just becausewe sometimes remember.』

 — at Oscorp and decided to theme himself after the way he’d gotten his powers. He found out that the webhead did all kinds of nerd stuff when he wasn’t out being the hottest hero in a unitard, like biochemistry and engineering and computer programming, and that he was in grad school for one of those STEM-type things. He’d learned that the guy was young, only twenty-four to Wade’s indeterminate thirty-to-forty-something.

『He started being Spider-Man when he was just a kid if he wasn’t joking.』

「What were we doing when we were fifteen?」

『We weren’t here yet, but the big guy was already a f*ck-up. No Spidey, that’s for sure.』

Yeah, Webs was perfect and Wade was trash. What else was new?

The busy little spider also had like three side-hustles to support himself and some family member, maybe a cousin or an older sibling. What a Goodie Two-Shoes, even as a civilian. Seriously, how adorable was that? Wade opted not to tell the webslinger that he was pretty sure he’d been brainwashed into burning his own house down with his parents inside.

“Hey Wilson, are you gonna pay attention to the updated intel I’m sharing with the team and how that changes the next phase of our plan, or you just gonna sit over there and play Candy Crush?” asked Agent Ward tersely, interrupting Wade’s daydreaming.

“Sphincter says what?” The mercenary muttered under his breath without looking away from the text conversation he’d been scrolling through and re-reading.

Agent Ward failed to take the bait. Wade finally looked up and eyeballed the SHIELD agent from behind his mask. Grant Ward was pretty, but the square-jawed, masculine, straight boy kind of pretty that made Wade extra suspicious. Didn’t help that the guy unconsciously out-Alpha-ed just about anyone in the same room as him without even trying. Seriously, he was rank with it.

“Whatever, dude, it’s not like I just got half the updated intel for you or anything,” he snorted. “Sorry that your bosses think your team needs a babysitter. Must be rough, only having level five security clearance.”

“I’m a level six agent, Wilson,” Wart corrected in a long-suffering tone.

“Oh, my bad. Level six.” Wade wiggled his fingers in the most sarcastic jazz hands he could muster.

「That’s pretty damn sarcastic.」

Agent Ward breathed out slowly through his nose. “I understand that you’ve been contracted to assist with this mission because other agents with the skillset to normally take point, namely codenames Hawkeye, Widow, and Mockingbird, are all otherwise engaged with high-priority targets of their own. At this time, I have been designated the lead agent on the ground, which means I need you to pay attention to this preparatory briefing.”

“Oh, well if you insist,” Wade cackled.

“I’m never working with civilians again,” Ward muttered.

Wade smiled widely. “I’m a vet, dickweed. Quit being such a presumptive little proto-nationalist.”

『You know what? With that kind of facial symmetry and his gift for fascist-lite lawful neutrality? I’m not even surprised that multiple versions of this guy throughout the multiverse have joined Hydra.』

Agent Ward continued with the intelligence briefing as if Wade hadn’t spoken. Apparently, he’d given up on making the ex-soldier pay attention and was willing to compromise with him shutting up for the remainder of the meeting so that he could at least finish up with the other SHIELD agents. Wade decided to text Spidey again.

He waited a while but didn’t get any response. Wasn’t Spidey out of class or work or whatever he normally did around that time? Not that Wade had done his best to memorize the guy’s schedule or anything.

「He lied, like a liar.」

After he’d waited long enough that he’d started to absorb information from Ward’s presentation, the mutate texted Webs again.

「I miss hiiiiiim.」

It was honestly almost annoying how much the mercenary found himself missing both the spider and his territory. He hadn’t been expecting to get so attached, not least to the city itself. Wade vaguely recalled having lived somewhere in Massachusetts — West Linn, maybe? Boston? — with Nessa, and he’d been in the Bay for two or three years, but neither place had drawn him in as quickly as New York City had after a few weeks of getting to know it from a spider’s eye view.

Wade tuned back in to hear Ward say, “We’re boots on the ground at 1600, which means you’ll have about 65 minutes to prep after we finish up here. I expect everyone to review the LiDAR scans of the ruins with their strike teams before the drop.”

Finally, the wallcrawler responded to Wade’s texts. The merc immediately kicked his feet up on the table and went back to ignoring Mr. Level Six SHIELD Agent’s PowerPoint.

His spider was a busy little bee, even if he hadn’t made any new progress in the Goblin case yet. Wade frowned, wondering if they would find any more Weapon X names associated with the project, or if he’d be lucky for once and they were only running clean-up on his end of the guilt-trip. Then, Spider-Man hit him with some wild news straight out left field.

「With a what?」

Nope! f*ck that sh*t. It was one thing to write off Webs as a lost cause, a celebrity crush who just didn’t swing Wade’s direction, especially after his comments about being overwhelmed by Wade’s heat scent when they’d first run into one another again, and then his total freakout over the concentrated pheromones in Wade’s apartment. But this? Either Spidey had been lying through his teeth to Wade the whole time, or he just found someone else who was actually worth whatever sensory processing issue he had with Omega scents.

Deadpool jammed his phone into a pouch and crossed his arms. Might as well pay attention to the stupid goddamn PowerPoint. Of course, Agent Ward was wrapping up right about then and directing people to sit with their drop teams and go over any last-minute details.

Whatever. Time to get into work mode and scare the pants off whatever poor SHIELD agent got stuck working with the Merc with the Mouth.

“Wilson, with me,” Ward commanded. Cool, maybe Deadpool would get blown up on this mission. It might feel better.

『f*ck ‘em. Let’s go make money.』

“Hey, uh, Deadpool,” said a baby-faced little SHIELD agent who had sidled up to him as they waited to get close enough to paradrop onto the site. A couple of the agent’s equal baby-faced teammates edged closer to listen. “Is it true that you work with Spider-Man now?”

“f*ck Spider-Man,” the mercenary groused as he snapped the buckles of his parachute shut. He could feel the first licks of pre-heat warming up his stupid, scrambled eggs brain, so yeah, maybe he was feeling a little touchy, even a smidge territorial about his special bug. “Little puss*’s always getting in my face. ‘Oh, don’t kill people, Deadpool! Don’t chop people’s arms off, Deadpool!’ You know what that guy’s problem is?”

“What?” asked another of the baby-faced agents. Agent Ward rolled his eyes from behind them, which was the first time Wade had any positive emotions toward the guy. Their comms pinged to let them know they’d reached the jump point.

Deadpool grinned manically. “Webs doesn’t know how to have fun!” The bay door was barely open before he launched himself out of the plane, diving straight for the ground.

『That was some excellent dramatic timing, if I do say so myself.』

Deadpool ignored the box, reveling in the blissful relative silence that followed. For a few moments, as the air whistled past him, he thought about not bothering to pull the ripcord of his parachute so he could reset his stupid brain from being all upset over the stupid webhead. Too soon, other figures were dropping around him, grim and silent in their SHIELD tac gear.

The merc decided to launch his chute after all so he didn’t traumatize one of the baby agents prematurely by turning into Deadpool jelly. He still rolled his ankle a bit upon landing, which would have been embarrassing in comparison to the almost-perfect execution of the agents’ landings, if Deadpool was capable of being embarrassed.

“All right, Team Bravo, you’re circling to the northwest. Team Charlie, to the southeast. You should be able to hit side tunnels into the ruins,” Agent Ward commanded through the comms. The agents nodded and split off. He turned to Deadpool. “Team Alpha, we need to go in head-on. Our goal is to confirm that AIM is working with the local cartel and send any intel about that back to base before we can support the other teams in asset retrieval.”

“You could have just said ‘Wilson’ or ‘Mister Deadpool,’ if ya nasty, instead of ‘Team Alpha,’ you know,” Deadpool pointed out. Ward ignored him and started trekking through the brush toward a narrow dirt path. “Hey, wait for me!”

It seemed like no time at all before a little recon and sneaking in turned into an out-and-out firefight. And sure, maybe that had something to do with the fact that Deadpool had almost immediately pulled a Beretta 1911 and shot an AIM guard right in his dumb head for lumbering out and just standing in plain sight in his bright yellow jumpsuit, but no one was pointing fingers.

“This is your f*cking fault!” Agent Ward yelled, ducking to avoid a shot and jabbing a finger at the merc.

“Hey Ward, were you recruited by John Garrett or Victoria Hand?” Deadpool asked between potshots at the mix of cartel guns and AIM goons scattered throughout the stone ruins, ignoring the agent’s accusations. The ex-soldier took a mental inventory of his ammo — sh*t, if they didn’t suddenly get much more efficient with their shots, he was going to be bringing swords to the next few gunfights. He’d gotten too used to adjusting his inventory to do things Spidey’s way.

『Yeah, like an idiot.』

“Neither,” Ward replied shortly as he crouched down behind a fallen pillar and reloaded. “Is that relevant to this firefight we’re in right now?”

“Only kinda. See, a little box told me about Agents of SHIELD and I wanted to know if you double-crossed Agent Agent in this part of the multiverse too, or if you’re a good little SHIELD soldier.”

「Sick burn.」

“You’re a consummate professional, as always,” Ward said through gritted teeth as he took careful aim over a pockmarked piece of cut stone.

『That means yes.』

“Yup, that’s me, medical-grade idiot and professional murder hobo!” Deadpool agreed cheerfully. “But hey, at least I’ve never been dumb enough to join Hydra!”

「Okay, thatwas a sick burn.」

“I hope you get shot,” Ward said conversationally. He dropped another wave of their opponents with sniper-like accuracy and crouched to reload again.

“Well, luckily all you have to do to make that happen is be sh*tty at your job. Shouldn’t be a problem!” Deadpool yelled, then grenades into the two areas of cover Ward had slowly herded the remaining enemy agents. “5… 4… 3… 2…” He covered his ears and dropped down next to Ward just before an explosion rocked the entire area.

He popped up and surveyed the scene. “That should do it! I was tired of playing whack-a-mole with these jerks. Plus, now you don’t have to worry about telling the big guys whether or not AIM is working with the local cartel because I’m pretty sure we just killed the whole cartel.”

“I doubt that,” Ward said, already keying a message into the communication device on his wrist. “None of the heads are dumb enough to have just been hanging around the site when AIM is doing Thor only knows what.”

“You never know.” Deadpool moved in and began descending the cavernous grand staircase now being defended by so many dismembered corpses. “C’mon, let’s go see what kind of Ancient Aliens crap these guys are messing with and rescue your little scientists already. We’ll probably get there before the other two strike teams even make it through the improbably complex booby traps and puzzles on their routes to the center of the ruins.”

“I’ll remind you once again that I’m running point on this mission, Wilson.”

While they were still on the jet, Wade had started feeling crawl-out-of-his-skin antsy in a wildly inconvenient bit of foreshadowing. A little wetwork and a new Pool-O-Vision high score were just what the boxes ordered to settle him down. With any luck, focusing on the fun part of his job would be enough to keep him in that sweet, sweet Deadpool frame of mind until they made it back to a SHIELD warehouse, at the very least. His biology could be annoying on its own time. If worse came to worst, he could always just goad Agent Agent Junior over here into shooting him a couple of times, give him a little more time before he started to get too uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry, if you stay behind me, you might get the chance to ‘accidentally’ hit me with some friendly fire during the final showdown,” Deadpool assured Agent Ward in the same bright tone he’d maintained since they were boots on the ground. “I could use a nap.”

Chapter 19

Chapter Text

Peter walked out of another meeting with his thesis chair with the usual headache. Still, things had gone better than usual; he might get another chapter written this month. Getting some encouragement and feedback from Reed had helped. Academic politics and minutiae were just not Peter’s game, and he was glad once again that his Parker Luck ran in a positive direction for once and had put him in contact with someone who not only understood that world but seemed to thrive in it.

“Hey there, Pete,” greeted Debra as he walked out, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder and flashing him a brilliant smile. Golly, she really was pretty. “How’d it go?”

Peter steeled himself, excitement and guilt warring inside him as he remembered both his kitchen conversation with Aunt May a little while back and the way he’d embarrassed himself the night before obsessing over Wade until he hadn’t been able to get it up anymore.

“Hi, Deb,” he said, smiling back at her with what he hoped was an equal amount of enthusiasm. He leaned over her counter. “Hey, so, I wanted to — feel free to tell me no, it’s cool, honestly — um, but I wanted to know if maybe you wanted to get dinner sometime? Or lunch, if that’s too much pressure? Coffee would be fine, too. I mean, if — ”

The blonde laughed, adjusting her glasses and holding up a hand. “Okay, okay, I get it! Gosh, you’re cute when you’re flustered, Pete. Yeah, dinner sounds great!”

“Really? I mean, yeah! Great! Do you — Are you free Thursday? No wait, I have to hold office hours. What about…” He racked his brain frantically. Why was he like this?

“What do you say we just meet up tonight?” Deb asked sweetly, smiling up at him from under long, blonde lashes. “That way neither of us has time to get too anxious.”

Peter grinned back, relieved. “Yes! That’s fantastic. D’you want to maybe walk around Washington Park? Grab something from one of the food carts? You’re vegetarian, right? The one with vegan tamales is usually hanging around there on Mondays.”

“Aw, you remembered! Could you get any cuter?” she giggled. “Yeah, that sounds good to me. I’m off at a quarter to 6 today, so how about, like, 6:30?”

“Awesome!” Peter said warmly. “Here, uh, here’s my number. I don’t know why I haven’t given it to you already, honestly.” He reached over to pluck a pen from her desk and scribbled it out on a nearby flyer. He smiled at her again, his grin stretching wide across his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Bye!”

“I’ll see you later!” she said with a wave.

Peter practically skipped out of the department and down to the elevator. His phone buzzed a couple of minutes later with a bunch of smile emojis from Debra. As he got off the elevator and headed out of the building, his second phone buzzed in his pocket — a message from Wade.

Peter would have never, ever used a hashtag in a text before he met Wade, even ironically. The man was a bad influence on him. That didn’t stop him from being the one to double-text, for once.

Peter sighed and tucked his phone away. He tried to remind himself that Deadpool was not rampaging indiscriminately just for the money, and was in fact on a government contract being supervised by a SHIELD handler. He would come back, and they would still be able to work together. Probably.

Maybe he should try to get ahold of Bobbi Morse and see if she would tell him anything about Deadpool’s current SHIELD contract.

Peter webbed his way straight back to his apartment at the end of his brief patrol. He had just enough time for a quick shower before his date with Debra. He scrubbed himself down in record time, then pulled on navy briefs and a pair of jeans that Aunt May had gone with him to buy, which meant they probably fit well.

He scrubbed a hand anxiously through damp brown locks as he tried to pick out a shirt, passing on flannels and sweater vests and dumb science-themed t-shirts that Deb had thought were funny at school, but even he knew weren’t date night material. Okay, okay, he could do this. He stared blankly into the closet. Button-ups were safe, right? Dark green button-up it was! And a coat, in case it got cold. Wait, what if Deb got too cold and he needed to be a gentleman and give her his jacket (because obviously he wouldn’t just let her freeze)? Okay, his grey scarf and beanie could go in the pockets, because grey was a neutral color so it went with whatever color he put on, and then he would still be warm enough if he gave her the coat.

Peter checked the time on the stovetop clock, then went scrambling for his keys and wallet so he could bolt out the door. He could do this. He could do this.

In a rare show of foresight, he had even given himself a few minutes of wiggle room in case he came across something he had to intervene in on his way to the chemistry building on the ESU campus. His Spidey-Sense prickled once or twice, but nothing greater than the usual pickpockets and general aggression of the NYC subway system jumped out at him.

He pulled out his phone to scroll through his school email while he waited for his stop, resisting the urge to grab the SpiderPhone and see if Wade had ever texted him back. He should have just left the darn thing at home. What kind of Spider-Man emergency was Deadpool going to have on a SHIELD mission? None, that’s what.

The hero stubbornly shoved his second phone deeper into his pocket and read over the latest feedback from his thesis committee until the bus lurched to a stop. He alighted onto the concrete and made his way over to the chemistry building so he could walk Deb over to the park and they could look for the tamale cart together.

His Spidey-Sense shivered again as he passed a small knot of people. He saw a flash of bright purple as he scanned the people’s faces and did a double-take. But no, one of them was simply wearing a purple beanie. He was just on edge because of his date. What, was the Green Goblin going to jump out at him on the street when he was walking around as plain old Peter, after weeks of skulking around in the shadows and digital traces? Not likely, Parker.

He speed walked over to the building entrance, shaking his head. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before Debra came out and walked down the front steps to where he was standing.

“Well hey there, stranger,” she greeted him with a warm smile. The setting sun made her blonde hair gleam and created a sparkle that played between her dark blue eyes and the lenses of her round glasses. She’d taken her hair out of its work-day ponytail and fluffed it up, and it was kind of cute that the crease where the elastic band had held it was still slightly visible. “It’s so weird to see you without a backpack.”

“It’s so weird to see you out from behind a desk,” Peter replied, leaning over to hug her in a way he hoped was neither too awkward nor too forward.

“So, how was the rest of your day?” he asked as they walked back across campus toward the park. He wondered if he was supposed to hold her hand or wrap an arm around her. He’d had a crush on Gwen forever, and things had just sort of happened without him thinking too hard about it. Things with MJ had been… well, they’d both been such a mess that they were too busy to worry about whether or not they were doing it right. He’d been so careful to stay away from long-term entanglements for a long time after that, and now he was so far out of the habit that it felt alien.

“Oh, you know how it is,” Deb said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Doctor Lamaze thinks that being the department secretary means I’m his personal secretary, so he’s constantly trying to load me up with all kinds of little projects outside the scope of my job description and upsetting the other professors who I’m supposed to also be coordinating with because then the things everyone needs end up getting delayed. Poor Anna Maria came out of her thesis meeting crying again today — maybe you should talk to her.”

“Me?” Peter asked. “What good would I be?”

“Haven’t your last few finally been going well? I thought you finally got two whole chapters through committee.”

“Okay, fair point.” The brunet grinned. “I’m kind of on a roll. I guess I can see if she’d like the moral support if nothing else.”

“That’s my guy,” Debra said with a smile, lightly shoulder-checking him. “You’re so positive, Pete.”

“Yeah? I think you’re the first person who’s ever said that to me.” They walked in comfortable silence until they were near the park entrance. “Hey, there’s the tamale cart! Let’s go grab a couple.” The pair changed direction slightly to get in line.

“Do you have a favorite?” asked the blonde.

“Okay, call me crazy, but I’m really into the pineapple ones now. I have this friend who loves pineapple on things — seriously his go-to pizza toppings are pineapple and olives — but he turned me onto the pineapple tamales. They’re kind of dessert tamales, almost? I don’t know, but it’s really good!” Peter explained enthusiastically.

“You lost me at pineapple on pizza, bud,” she laughed. “Seriously, pineapple and olives? Yuck! I’d, uh, try your tamale though, if you got one.”

“Hey, the pineapple and olive isn’t too bad,” Peter defended, safe in the knowledge that Wade was busy getting shot at somewhere far out of the country and would never find out that he admitted to liking the accursed pizza combination. “But since you’re cute, I will make an exception and share with you. What’s your favorite?”

“Honestly? I’m used to only having corn or green chili as an option since I don’t eat meat. I might get one of the seitan beef ones too just to try it out. This is neat! And don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to be all slick with the compliments there, bud,” Deb said with an exaggerated wink.

Peter couldn’t help but laugh in response, the sound spilling out of him easy and carefree. Deb was such a great friend. He was a fool for not spending time with her outside of school earlier. They made their way quickly to the front of the line and ordered their tamales, then walked through the park, talking and sharing their food.

The conversation flowed along easily as their feet meandered, keeping to uncomplicated topics like work, favorite movies, and the best bagel place near campus, without Peter ever having to steer the conversation away from his past or his (lack of) non-Spider-Man-related hobbies and into a safer direction. He even offhandedly mentioned his job freelancing with the Bugle, and Deb’s only questions were about his interest in photography and not about the so-called webbed menace who was the subject of his photos.

There was no snarky back-and-forth, but it was sweet and straightforward and everything Peter should have wanted it to be. He ended up lending her his coat after all, and it looked adorable on her. Heck, this was what he wanted out of his relationship with Deb, wasn’t it? She was fun and cute, and talking with her was easy. Why did he keep feeling like something was missing?

“Wow, it’s getting a little late, isn’t it?” the blonde Omega said with a soft giggle. “When did that happen?”

Peter looked around and realized that it had gotten dark around them; they were now walking by the light of the street lamps in a mostly-empty park. “Gosh, it is! Let me walk you home?” he offered. “Or at least to your station?”

“What a gentleman,” Deb sighed, fanning herself and fluttering her eyelashes. “The stop I take home is just across the park if you really don’t mind.”

“Please, I’d love to wait with you if you’re comfortable.”

She reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers as they walked to her bus stop. It was nice, crossing the park hand-in-hand.

They paused at a tree near the edge of the park, and Deb leaned back against it with her hands behind her back, looking up at Peter through curled, golden lashes. “I had a great time, Peter.”

He took a half-step into her space. “I, uh — ” He cleared his throat and threaded his fingers through her hair, pillowing her head on his hand. “I had a nice time too.” He closed those last inches so their lips met, opening his mouth to welcome her timid, questing tongue.

After only a few moments, Peter’s enhanced hearing picked up on the sounds of a bus rumbling a few blocks away. He broke away from the kiss. “I think your bus is almost here.”

“I can wait for the next one,” Deb said breathlessly, eyes shining up at him. She plucked at his collar to bring him closer. Even if he hadn’t been bitten by a radioactive spider, Peter would have been able to smell the spike in the Omega’s scent (coriander and black tea) and feel his body respond to her arousal.

He deposited one more gentle, closed-mouth peck on her lips before retreating. “I don’t want to make you stay out too late. Come on, I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”

Peter made himself take one last quick patrol near home before he went to bed, his guilt complex exacerbated more than usual by the hours he’d spent on his date and his mixed feelings about the sweet little kiss he’d received at the end of it.

Maybe that was also what had him on edge the whole time, half-convinced he could hear the whir of a glider or see just the right shade of purple moving through the crowds below. His senses always went a little haywire when he was tired and stressed out, and there was nothing to stress a friendly neighborhood spider-guy out like trying to go on his first date in over a year and a half while in the middle of a supervillain investigation.

He lingered on the rooftops overhead along part of his patrol route, watching over the folks below for anyone approaching that made his Spidey-Sense go off hard enough to web them away and handle them himself. He knew from experience that his obvious presence wasn’t helpful to sex workers just trying to do their job. Still, he’d dragged off a couple of their most troublesome clients to the cops, who of course then turned out to have had a whole bunch of other charges against them just waiting for someone the cops couldn’t turn away, or they were at least wanted for some other crime that would keep them off the street and away from Peter’s neighbors. This was the part of his job that he didn’t take Wade on — mostly because he was pretty sure Deadpool would just gut the dudes rather than let them get cycled through the justice system and risk going free.

A bulky man that made Peter’s Spidey-Sense tingle a little made him perk up on his perch. The man stopped to talk to the short-haired Beta women working on that corner, heads bending close together. He passed off something to her, and she pointed up at the roof on which the hero was perched.

The man looked up and whistled loudly. “Hey, Spider-Man! I got somethin’ for ya!”

Peter peered over the edge of the roof.

“Would you get your bug ass down here so I can go home?” the man demanded.

Well, if he was gonna get stabbed, he might as well do it while he was awake enough to clean himself up after. He jumped down to the ground in what Wade would have gleefully called a “superhero landing,” then stood up and faced the bulky Omega man across from him. “Real nice of you to point out my lookout spot, Daria,” he called over to the woman, who smiled sweetly and then made a kissy face while waving, then flipped him off.

“Ah, don’t be sore at her, Spider-Man. A girl’s got groceries to buy, and the family is good with the petty cash,” the stranger cajoled.

Peter straightened up and brought all his attention back to the big man. “The family?”

“Mister Karnelli has a message for you. Personally, I hope it’s a formal letter informing you that he’s going to put a bounty on you for being such a pain in the ass,” the man said with a crooked grin. “But hey, what do I know? Hope I don’t see you around, pal.” The man handed him an envelope with an honest-to-goodness wax seal on the flap and walked off.

Peter cracked it open. The note inside was only two short sentences.

Peter sagged in relief, a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying off his shoulders. He shredded the note and shoved a third of the pieces in the nearest trash can, then he gradually got rid of the rest as he finished his patrol. The Goblin made him a little paranoid.

In bed that night, Peter thought about the case he was still running in circles on, then reflected on his date. He tried to imagine a long, blonde ponytail tucked under his chin, dark eyes behind round glasses, and a slim, soft body that curled gently into his. He found his thoughts unrelentingly invaded by powerful arms looping easily over his shoulders, thickly-corded thighs, and a suit of red leather and black kevlar straining tight over a broad chest.

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

Doctor Storm was hard at work in her lab, as per usual, when Peter arrived for his latest check-in so early in the morning that it was still dark outside, so he could make the visit before his day trip with MJ. He’d come to visit a few times since Sue’s breakthrough with Crystal, the Inhuman Alpha woman, but there hadn’t been much in the way of progress to report on either medical treatment or any leads as to who else in the scientific community who wasn’t already associated with some terrorist organization or other might be involved in the project.

The only reason they had even continued to ask the people Peter and Deadpool had rescued to stay at the Baxter Building was to not put their families in greater danger or potentially being rounded up again for another round of experiments, although by now they were at least allowed to let their families know they were alive.

Peter wandered over to Sue’s lab station to peer over her shoulder at whatever it was she was poking at — it was that weird black goo that had been thrashing around the last time he came in. “How’s it going, Doc?” he asked.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” came another voice from behind the hero. Peter hadn’t even noticed that, unlike usual, Doctor Richards was working alongside his wife in this lab rather than in his own.

“Sorry, Pete, I haven’t had more time to work on the Goblin project,” said Sue, her focus still trained on the alien goo. “Reed’s been helping me out with this little guy. We think it’s sapient after all, so we’re trying to figure out how to communicate with it — them? Anyway, we might have to go on a shuttle run to take it back where we found it. Keep clear, all right?”

“Hey, don’t gotta tell me twice!” the spider exclaimed, backing up several steps with his hands up.

“Our apologies, Peter,” said Reed, one arm stretching over from his workstation to pat awkwardly at Peter’s shoulder before retreating. “I’m afraid Susan has had a few other pressing matters to attend to that have delayed research into your little problem. This symbiotic little creature is just the tip of an iceberg. There’s some stirring about some kind of ‘Power Primordial’ nonsense and the so-called Elders of the Universe, which I assume we’ll get dragged into at some point.”

“Darling, please stop turning my laboratory into your own personal Negative Zone,” Sue said. “And stop turning up your nose at everything just because it’s got a silly name. We’re called the ‘Fantastic Four.’ You’ve got several doctorates, Mister Fantastic. We can’t exactly point fingers.”

Peter tried not to burst into laughter as their straight-faced ribbing escalated. “All right, all right, I get it,” he chuckled. “Thanks anyway, Sue. I just wanted to stop by for a visit while Wade’s gone and see how things are going.”

“Oh, it’s Wade now, is it?” Surprisingly, the question came from Reed, who was normally the most oblivious of the bunch.

“What? Oh, um, did I say Wade? I mean, that’s his name. That’s not weird,” Peter spluttered.

“No one said it was weird,” replied Sue. “You’re the one making it weird.”

“Hey! No ganging up on me!” Peter pointed his finger at them.

“So, about Wade,” interjected Reed.

“Nothing! Nothing about Wade!” Peter yelped.

“I was only going to say that I found out that he’s not, ah, ‘space-married’ anymore,” Reed replied mildly. He still hadn’t looked up from whatever equation he was manipulating. “Entirely coincidentally, I recently spoke with his lovely ex-wife, who’s an astrophysicist on the space station Johnny got into all that trouble on. Thought you might be interested.”

“Why would I be — ”

“You did seem awfully concerned about that mission of ours when you heard about it,” Sue said. “Did you ever ask him about his little space adventure?”

“I — you — I — ” Peter looked back and forth between them. “Gosh, look at the time! I’m going to be late for school!” He hopped off the stool he’d been perched on and scurried toward the door of the lab.

“Bye, Peter! Always nice of you to drop by!” Sue called after him. He was pretty sure he could hear Reed’s muffled laughter, the smug bastard.

Peter climbed into the passenger seat of Mary Jane’s car. “Thanks again for driving, Red! This sure beats taking an Ooper.”

“No problem, Pete. Besides, this way we have some time to catch up,” MJ said. “Plus, if you’re stuck in a car with me, you can’t go swinging off to save New York City from some idiot with a fishbowl on his head.”

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, wise guy,” Peter said with a roll of his eyes as he put on his seatbelt. “Seriously though, tell me how things have been with you. It’s been a while.”

The young hero had been keeping his distance to keep his family safe — if anything, that had gone doubly so for MJ after the close call with the second Goblin. The couple had fumbled their way through a few trysts as they tried to console one another in their shared grief over Gwen and the years Harry spent pushing them both away after his father’s death, but in the end, Peter couldn’t risk becoming further entangled with her and dragging her into Spider-Man’s dangerous life or Harry’s unknowing quest for vengeance against his best friend. Of course, Mary Jane figured out Spider-Man’s true identity about the same time Harry had, and if she hadn’t warned him, there was a good chance neither he nor Harry would have survived the encounter.

“It certainly has been!” Mary Jane cried out dramatically. “It’s the least you could do to be Aunt May’s date to one of my opening nights, Peter, really. I always hold tickets for her, in case she’s well enough to make it.”

“Aunt May goes to your plays?”

“Of course she does! Because she loves me!” MJ pouted. “She and Auntie Anna usually go together and make a whole evening of it. It’s kind of adorable.”

“Well, now I just feel like a big ol’ jerk.”

“As you should,” MJ said, beaming. “I’ve been paying my bills with acting more than freelance modeling or waitressing, so I’d have to say I’m doing pretty stellar. Keeps me pretty darn busy, to tell you the truth. Flash jokes that I have to bring the party with me everywhere because I don’t have time to show up at anyone else’s.” She laughed, hot and bright like the flare of a Roman candle.

“Spending time with Eugene again, huh?”

The redhead busied herself with merging onto the highway before answering. “He’s different these days. Not, like, ‘Poor me, I went to blow up brown people for oil and all I got was this PTSD,’ different. He’s actually grown up quite a bit. I think you two might get along now even without Gwen and me to push you together.”

Peter winced reflexively at her name. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll join the two of you next time you come to visit Harry. How’s he feel about you hanging with Flash?”

“Harry and I stopped seeing each other long before he almost killed himself going after you, Peter. Even if we were ready to talk about going out again, you know Flash and I are just good buddies. Why are you being difficult?”

“I’m not being difficult!” he protested.

“You’re always difficult, Tiger.”

“All right, maybe,” he conceded with a sigh.

“So?”

“It’s always hard to talk about her.”

“So that means you’re going to be difficult at me? May raised you better than that, and you’re stinking up my car with all that stress.” She cracked a window to make her point. “Stop playing big, bad Alpha and use your words.”

“Fine. I… I went on a date.”

“Aw Pete, that’s great! I’m so happy for you! Maybe a teensy bit jealous, but happy. Have you told Aunt May?”

“I talked to her about the gal a little before I asked her out, but that was all,” the brunet said. He found himself relaxing already. MJ wasn’t afraid to set him straight when Aunt May was too nice to be hard on him. “All right, so I saw her after my thesis meeting with Lamaze on Tuesday, which is totally normal.”

He launched into the details of how he’d asked Debra out, what they’d worn, and everything they’d done and talked about on their date. He decidedly did not go into detail about his Spidey patrols both before and after the event — no need to get his friend worked up about another thing on his behalf. After all, it wasn’t as if she could do anything about the Green Goblin, but she was great at helping Peter make sense of other people. Aside from an interjection of surprise that he even managed to make it through a whole date without getting pulled away by Spider-Man duties, Mary Jane kept silent and listened.

“And then we kissed, and it was really nice, y’know? It was easy and sweet, and it felt nice. I heard her bus coming, so we stopped and I walked her to the stop, and I promised to talk to her soon. So yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Peter finished. “She’s super sweet, and we had a great time. I really should call her.”

“But?” MJ questioned, eyebrow raised.

“But what? But, nothing.”

“You said that you should, not that you will.”

“I mean, I should! It was fun! It was nice!” Peter looked over at her helplessly. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I’m not sure that ‘nice’ cuts it, Brown Eyes,” MJ said with a soft chuckle. “Aren’t you supposed to be the chemistry expert around here?”

Peter put his head in his hands. “I just feel like such a jerk, MJ!”

“It’s okay,” she reminded him with a firm pat on his knee. “If you weren’t feeling it, she probably wasn’t either. Anyway, she still sounds like a good friend and a real sweet gal. It’s good for you to have other normal friends, Pete. Now stop making me play therapist! Just because I can act the part doesn’t mean I have the qualifications.” She elbowed him none-too-gently in the ribs.

“Yeah, yeah, here’s your Emmy,” the young man grumbled.

“So how are things with your leather daddy?” the redhead asked with a mischievous grin.

“So, how about them Yankees?” he deflected.

“That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

“Afraid so, Red.”

God bless Mary Jane, who didn’t push him any further on the topic. They went back to discussing her acting career and the things Peter had missed in everyone’s lives while he’d been off being a superhero and graduate student.

Then it was Peter’s turn to listen while she talked about her feelings for Harry. She’d spent the past year attempting to deal with their past now that it seemed he was on the mend, as well as extensively amnesiac about not only the Green Goblin, but his obsession with Spider-Man and the finer details of how he’d hurt the people around him.

“Well, now I feel like a Grade A jerk and a moron to boot. I’m real sorry, MJ,” he said when she took an extended break in her external processing. The Beta woman waved off his apology, then continued to use him as a sounding board.

“Okay, I think we should move onto lighter stuff before we get there, huh?” MJ suggested when they were nearing the turn-off for Wellbridge. They spent the last fifteen minutes of their trip listening to alt-pop that had been on the radio when they were in high school, singing along and dancing out the rest of their feelings with the windows down.

The pair went through the same song and dance at reception that Peter had encountered on his first visit, albeit sped along by Mary Jane’s familiarity with the staff and the campus. She was able to direct them to Harry’s room herself, instead of requiring a guide as the young hero had on his previous visit. She strategically situated herself between Peter and the suite door, so she would be the first thing Harry saw when he opened it. His face lit up when he saw his visitor.

“MJ! What’s shakin’, gorgeous?” Harry asked, leaning against the doorframe. “I thought you weren’t coming by again until at least next week — not that I’m complaining about a surprise visit from my best girl. Did I forget one of our conversations again?”

“Aw Har, that was a couple weeks ago already,” MJ replied smoothly. “Besides, I brought a buddy.” She stepped closer to Harry, leaning against the opposite wall so he would more clearly notice Peter behind her.

The hero waved with uncertainty, the memory of their fight at the end of his last visit at the forefront of his mind.

“Peter!” the auburn-haired young man exclaimed. “I can’t believe you actually dragged him all the way out here. Well, now it’s a party. Come on in, cool cats.” He straightened and retreated into the suite so his guests could enter.

A glance around showed the same minimalist, almost-trendy space. There wasn’t a coaster or a pen out of place, the layout of every accent pillow identical to what Peter remembered of his recent visit.

“So, Pete, nice of you to finally visit. What’d MJ have to promise to get you out here, huh? You two steppin’ out on me?” At Peter’s stricken look, Harry let loose a peal of laughter. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. I know you guys would never do that. Gosh, could you imagine a bookworm like Petey trying to keep up with you, ya party animal?”

This last question was directed at Mary Jane, who, to the credit of her acting skills, kept her expression and scent entirely neutral as she teased right back. “Oh, I’m sure he’d give it the old college try, but our Pete’s got other things on his mind.”

Sleeping with MJ hadn’t ever been on the arachnid’s laundry list of things that kept him out at all hours, pushing his body to its breaking point webslinging around as New York’s caretaker until he got slow enough to be injured. After all, Harry had pushed them both away and Gwen had been dead for months. Cold, twisting guilt churned in Peter’s stomach anyway and told him that he would now be pushing himself even harder to make up for this new addition to his catalog of crimes.

It seemed that, thankfully, neither Beta required a response from him to continue in their conversation. As they spoke, they drew closer to one another from across the bedroom before eventually sitting on adjacent couch cushions.

Peter sank onto the foot of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, and let their chatter wash over him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being in the proximity of such lively and alive people, of knowing the people he was with understood him and wanted him there anyway — perhaps that was what had drawn him to Wade, despite his own best judgment. He missed feeling like a real person, not merely Spider-Man stuffed into an ill-fitting Peter Parker suit.

Peter was so goddamn tired. He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair.

Maybe he should have let Harry kill him after all. Hadn’t he deserved it, after everyone he’d let down and everyone he’d let die? Hadn’t Harry, of all people, deserved to have his revenge on Peter and Spider-Man both?

A wadded-up piece of paper thrown in his direction set off the slightest tingle of Peter’s Spidey-Sense. He was startled from his thoughts so abruptly that he jumped up. The warm sun shining in through the window hit his back, and the full-body shudder that wracked him made him realize how cold he’d somehow gotten.

“Hello, Earth to Peter?” Mary Jane and Harry were leaned in close together and cackling, strands of long red hair caught in auburn curls.

“Some visitor you turned out to be. I think you’re about ready for a nap.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Har. He’s a workin’ boy.”

“I know that’s hard for you to relate to, good buddy.” Peter forced himself to join in with a smile. “What’s up?”

“I was telling Harry about your work on that cryo-something-or-other for your thesis, and how you’d been bogged down in your research because you were having trouble finding some study Oscorp had done a while ago. Something about paywalls, right?” MJ raised one perfect eyebrow the slightest bit in Peter’s direction as if he was an idiot who couldn’t pick up on the perfect groundwork she’d laid for him.

Okay, so he would have missed it entirely if she hadn’t started throwing things at him. Nonetheless, a spider’s work was never done. “Oh, right! Yeah, it’s just one of those things, I guess. I couldn’t find it in any of the databases that ESU subscribes to. It’s too bad.” He shrugged.

“Are you sure it’s out of Oscorp?” asked Harry, and Peter nodded. “I can’t do anything for you from here, but I still own the damn company. Let me send a few emails from my personal account, and IT will get you set up with some temporary guest credentials.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Harry held up one well-manicured hand. “Seriously Pete, it’s my pleasure. I was having a bad day when you came to visit on your own, and that was sh*tty. Let me make it up to you. If there’s any trouble, I’ll just let you use my credentials to get what you need. I trust you.”

Without warning, the Alpha found his eyes watering as he looked at his two friends. He was overwhelmed with gratitude for them, albeit for wildly different reasons. He reached out a hand to each of them as he settled back on the edge of the bed, closer than he had been before.

“Gosh, thanks so much, Har,” Peter said, voice thick. “Thanks, you guys.”

“Well, I thought that went well,” Mary Jane said with a grin as they skipped down the steps.

“Yeah, that was worlds better than last time. You’re a real pal, Red,” Peter said. A sudden, vicious shudder ran down his back, and he automatically scrubbed at the back of his neck as they got into MJ’s car.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he denied. “I guess Harry still sets off my Spidey-Sense a little or something.”

“You seemed fine inside,” she commented.

Peter caught sight of a group of people in lab coats heading back into the building from a covered lunch area, recognizing Harry’s doctor — Hamilton, wasn’t it? — amongst the bunch. The doctor briefly made eye contact with him, eyes widening slightly, before making his way toward the front of the group and heading inside. His Spidey-Sense didn’t let up until the last of them were indoors.

“Yeah…” he trailed off in uncertainty. He shut his door and clicked in his seatbelt, settling in for the long drive home.

The reply was almost instant. That was the first message Wade had responded to in days.

Peter walked back to his apartment from the nearby rail station, exhausted after spending hours driving MJ’s car on top of his day with her and Harry. She’d offered to drive him all the way home, but he needed the time to get himself settled.

He thought about his date with Debra the other night. It had been really nice. That was just it though, wasn’t it? That was why he’d been dithering and unsure when talking to MJ about the lovely, sweet Omega and the date he’d finally snagged with her. The pair of them had no problem keeping up a conversation, but it had been hard to veer away from school and professional topics for so much of the evening. He’d walked Deb to her stop and waited for her bus with her, and he’d kissed her good night up against the little tree before he’d left. It had even been a pretty good kiss too, tongue and everything, and Peter hadn’t panicked at all when he’d been viscerally slammed by the aroused spike in her scent. It had been easy, sweet, and nice, and Peter should have been excited to see her again. He should have been texting her and trying to figure out when he’d be able to visit her in the chemistry building without seeming like a total creep.

Instead, as he neared his apartment, he found his thoughts turning to Deadpool, about all the time they’d spent together in the weeks — months, maybe, at this point — since Peter first stumbled upon the mutate on a job in Oscorp Tower, about how Peter had found himself trusting the guy more and more as he proved himself a worthy patrol partner, about the few direct things Wade has told him about himself in that time and the comparative deluge he’d learned in the interminable week the Omega mercenary had been gone.

As he climbed the creaking stairs up to his apartment, Peter managed to start a few texts to Deb, but couldn’t find the right words or a correct number of exclamation points or exact string of emojis to make himself sound appropriately enthused at picking up their conversation.

He kicked off his shoes in the entryway and slung his coat over the chair at the table. Instead, he sent a message to Wade to check in on how his mission was going. He still hadn’t heard about it from the Omega mutate since the idiot had texted him the night of his date.

He wondered when Deadpool would be done with his SHIELD job so he could come home. That day had been a week, hadn’t it? Wade had said that was the probably longest it should run. Maybe he wasn’t coming back to New York after all. Peter was on edge during patrols now, without the merc at his back, and it was almost impossible to relax afterward if he went straight to his apartment instead of hanging out at Wade’s place first, as had become his habit.

It was going to suck when they finished up this whole Goblin business and Wade left — if he came back in the first place. Peter tried not to think about it, just checking his phone one more time to see if the merc had ever responded to any of his messages before he flopped onto the bed, emotionally exhausted. For once, he just stripped off the rest of his clothes and burrowed under the covers instead of digging through the mess on his floor for a clean-ish Spidey suit to wear for the night.

He was counting his visit to Wellbridge and the four-hour round-trip from his Rego Park apartment — that had practically pulled double-duty as a therapy session while he’d been with MJ, which was most of the trip — as fulfilling his Spider-Manly responsibilities for the day. The city was just going to have to rely on Daredevil and Power Man for the night, which quite frankly didn’t inspire Peter with confidence, but it would have to do.

The thought of Daredevil reminded Peter of the way Wade had talked about the other hero when they’d passed along the border with his territory. Maybe Spider-Man wasn’t all that special to Deadpool — maybe he just talked that way to all the heroes he encountered. Maybe he was just trying to get a rise out of the wallcrawler, and Peter was reading too much into it. Maybe Wade didn’t actually like Spider-Man that much.

Now Peter was just back to thinking about Wade in all his tight red leather and those big combat boots that made him even taller. He wondered how it would feel to have someone so imposing, to lay over them and — 

 — drive into his big, hot body because he let Peter have him, trusted him to hold Wade down and f*ck him until he was crying with the overwhelming sensation of Peter inside him and stroking him, squirming on Peter’s co*ck and begging for a knot.

f*ck. Peter rolled restlessly onto his side, then flat on his stomach. That position was even worse, pinning his co*ck between his abs and the mattress, feverishly warm and begging for attention. He rocked his hips a few times, feeling sticky precome smear across his skin as the pressure gave his dick the barest sensation of relief. He’d been extra horny lately, even for his spider-mutated metabolism. It had almost seemed to somehow get even worse since he’d gotten an unfiltered lungful of Wade’s scent off his suit the other night. He missed Wade.

The Alpha smushed the pillow over his head with a frustrated groan, refusing to touch himself while he couldn’t get Deadpool out of his head. It just wasn’t going to happen, so his pulsing co*ck and full balls could just forget about it. He’d already jerked off twice that morning anyway.

Peter had to face the fact that he wasn’t going to end up asking Debra for a second date, after all. He groped for his phone with a grimace, typing out several long texts before finally settling on what to say to her.

After a few awkward drafts, he settled on something simple, and he didn’t mention any other Omegas on whom he definitely wasn’t fixated, no matter how much their pheromones may or may not have started to get him going. MJ would be — well, not proud of him, but at least not disappointed.

He kept the final message short, assuring that he’d had a great time on their date and that he hoped they could still be friends, as he did like her a lot as a person (which was very true, because Deb was a great girl and, quite frankly, he didn’t deserve someone as sweet and normal as her) but stating that he hadn’t really felt any the chemistry to move forward with a romantic entanglement.

All right, that was enough self-flagellation for one evening, and there would be none of the fun kind. Still despairing and frustrated, he threw his phone on the nightstand and jammed his head back under the pillow.

Chapter 21

Chapter Text

Deadpool surveilled Spider-Man swing across lower Manhattan from a distance. He’d just gotten back into town, a few days past when he promised the little do-gooder he’d be done.

He probably still had time to join the webslinger for the tail-end of his patrol if he really wanted. Hell, he might have done it, even with his heat close enough to have him ready to climb up walls, if his last real conversation with the guy hadn’t been about his f*cking date with some cute, tiny Omega girl a week ago. Their two texts back-and-forth, while Spidey was having his five-minute emo phase, didn’t count.

Mowing down a branch of AIM and an entire cartel hadn’t been enough to put the pep entirely back in his step after that, no matter how many times he got to rile up baby SHIELD agents or walk away from explosions like an extremely cool dude. Hell, even a well-timed ping from Weasel and the side-trip he’d taken on his way home to take care of the so-called scientists who had been lucky (or unlucky) enough not to be working when he trashed Oscorp’s lab all those weeks ago hadn’t cheered him up.

『Someone’s grumpy.』

So sue him. Whatever, looked like his feelings on the webhead were still pointing strongly toward “f*ck that guy.” It wasn’t like he was getting paid to hang out with Spider-Man. He didn’t owe him anything if they weren’t out working on the Goblin case.

Wade couldn’t help shooting the arachnid-themed hero a short text, just to let him know that he was back. Still, he didn’t have to head straight into more work the second he got back from a job, especially not a thankless task like Spidey’s.

「You said that already.」

『I think he’s just making excuses. And y’know, technically, the only reason you started getting SHIELD contracts is because you’ve been playing nice with Spider-Man.』

“Shaddap.”

「Yeah, shut up.」

Wade settled further into his worn spot on the couch as he flipped on the flat-screen taking up half the living room wall, then cranking the volume.

『You know, it’s going to be super weird when the delivery person gets here and we’ve got HD p*rn streaming with the volume up highand the captions on.』

“Oh, are the closed captions what makes it weird?” Wade muttered sarcastically. “You wanna watch Disney+ instead or something?”

「Oooh actually, did you bookmark that amateur couple’s profile we watched the last time we were home? I wanna watch one video again with that little blonde Beta twink who wrecks his Omega into the ground and then spends like five minutes petting him and talking. Can you saypraise kink?」

『Why? You both gonna be thinking about Spidey telling us we did a good job on our patrol again when we jerk off? Pathetic. And he wouldn’t be cuddling up with you afterward anyway if you did let him get near you. If it turned out you could convince him that he wanted to touch you. So you can watch your weird, niche amateur p*rn all you want, it’s not gonna happen in real life for this sad sack. Dream on, buddy.』

「Spoilsport. Why won’t you just let me dream of that perfect ass while I’m waiting forthis ugly asshole to feed us our Chinese food?」

『I thought we were mad at Spidey anyway. He went on adate. With an Omega. Since when is that a thing?』

“Will you shaddap already? Food’ll be here soon,” Wade groused without any actual expectation that it would do anything. Couldn’t he go thirty minutes without one of the boxes bringing up that lousy, sexy do-gooder?

『You bring this on yourself.』

Enough time later that he was considering attempting to rub out a quick one before the food got there, Wade heard both scraping at the fire escape — 

「Heh, good thing the blinds are shut.」

 — and a knock at the front door at the same time. “sh*t sh*t sh*t,” he intoned in a low, panicked voice, scrabbling frantically to change the tv input over to the PS4. He opened up the first streaming service, highlighting and selecting a show at random before shoving a mask on over his head and striding over to answer the door. His exchange with the delivery person was even more terse than usual.

By the time he had turned back toward the tv and started to roll the spandex mask he wore when he wasn’t out fighting off again, the webbed wonder had already slipped into the apartment through the living room window and made himself right at home, facedown in the middle of the floor with his limbs stretched out on the blood- and food-stained carpet, his mask rolled up to his nose.

「sh*t, leave your face on!」

『There’s something seriously wrong with that guy. Normally I’m talking about you when I say that, but he is way more comfortable in our space than any sane person should be.』

“Can I help you, Spider-Man?” Wade asked a little stiffly as he set the Chinese takeout down on the battered coffee table, yanked the thin spandex mask back down, and settled back into his armchair. The costumed man raised his head off the ground enough to turn and face him.

“Oof, sorry. I wanted to see you, but I’m, like, totally dead right now,” he mumbled. His voice was strained but determinedly cheerful in the way it tended to be after the two of them had spent a long night manhandling difficult criminals and he was still trying to convince Wade that his nonlethal approach was somehow more rewarding.

Wade’s stomach rioted with traitorous butterflies at the hero’s admission that he’d missed him, as circuitous and mild a proclamation as it was.

“I had that date the other night, then a really long and kind of terrible day with school and work, and a long patrol after that. I thought I was gonna see you when you got back from, um, work though. Could’ve used the help. What happened? You just get in?” The butterflies plummeted. Of course, Spidey had just wanted him there because he was a useful asset, not for his company.

『Obviously.』

「Duh.」

Wade forced himself to answer Spidey instead of the boxes.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Few hours ago. Didn’t feel up to heading right back out to meet you,” he responded evasively. The red-and-blue-clad hero finally sat up, leaning against the end of the couch and tilting his head back to rest against the cushion and peer at Wade through the impassive bug-eye lens of his mask.

“Ah. My bad,” Spidey said haltingly. “Want me to head out and let you chill?”

“Nah, it’s cool. Probably ordered too much food for just me anyway.” Wade shrugged.

『You ordered extra food for him on purpose. You got something with glass noodles. We don’t evenlike glass noodles. Needy, pathetic idiot, trying to coax some f*cking guy who’s barely even friends with you into staying here for some reason, even though he’s already getting his dick wet with some other Omega.』

“You sure? I don’t wanna bug you if you’re tired,” Webs pressed.

“Yeah, yeah, totally cool. You wanna keep watching, um — “ he looked properly at the television screen for the first time since he’d frantically switched over from the p*rn he’d been watching so he didn’t have to explain his preferences to the visiting hero “ — So Weird?”

“Whatever you want. It’s your house, and you brought the food. Didn’t peg you as a Disney+ subscriber though. Surprised you pay for anything,” the webslinger said neutrally as he began to poke through the boxes of takeout, clearly far more interested in the food.

「It’s basicallyX-Files for kids and it was filmed in Canada. Perfectly reasonable for us to watch. Also, peg lmao.」

“What he said,” Wade added before hastily catching himself. “I mean, I’m patriotically supporting the Canadian film industry, obviously. Didn’t you know that X-Files Junior here was filmed in the Great White North? Vancouver’s no Regina, Saskatchewan, but still. Bold of you to assume I’m paying for it and not just leeching off someone though, Webs. Course, you just can’t get away from Disney properties these days, even if you’re half-owned by Sony and I think my film rights are Fox, not the Mouse. Er, wait, I think Disney bought me out since this storyline started.” Spidey held up his hands in defeat.

“You completely lost me at the end there, but I concede. Like I said, your house. Whatever you want.”

The two of them settled back into their respective places on the couch and floor with steaming cartons of noodles, stir-fry, and soup. Spider-Man didn’t try to press Wade any further as to why he hadn’t joined him on patrol earlier.

“You know, I feel like I remember this show feeling way less hokey when I was a kid,” the wallcrawler said through a mouthful of bok choy as they watched Fiona narrate a painfully awkward conversation on an early internet forum on-screen. That had been his only comment for the past hour.

Wade, for his part, was still trying to pretend to both himself and the boxes that he had just been too tired and that it hadn’t been out of spite that he hadn’t joined the webslinger for patrol. The guy was probably busy thinking about his date the whole time anyway. Wade couldn’t believe Spidey had gone out with an Omega after all the time it took for him to get comfortable spending time in Wade’s apartment when he was nesting, much less when the kid was still wearing his filtration mask and Wade had kept the windows open to help dissipate the concentrated Omega scent of his home even further.

“Hey dude, so I thought you were gay or something? Why did you go out with an Omega?” Wade asked abruptly while their third episode of So Weird was loading, struggling to keep his tone light as the question burst out of him. Apparently, his goal of being totally chill about it hadn’t lasted long.

「Maybe he just doesn’t likethis Omega in particular.」

『By “this,” I’m pretty sure they mean you, just so we’re clear.』

“What? I mean, I guess if you’re being extremely reductive and using ‘gay’ as an umbrella term, then maybe? I’ve mentioned tanking on dates with lots of different people. Okay well not lots, but you know what I mean,” the webbed wonder said. Wade could see the brow of his mask rumple as his lenses narrowed. “I have totally vaguely mentioned my unsuccessful dating life and the broad range of gender and dynamic therein. What gives?”

“Well, you were super weird about heat scents, and you said you really only went out with Alphas and Betas.” Wade countered. “I thought you were just, like, dynamic-gay or had a weird Alpha fetish something.”

Spidey got even quieter and still for a moment before he finally spoke. “No, I’m not, like, exclusively into Alphas or something. I’m not exclusively into anything. I was almost Bonded to an Omega,” the hero admitted.

「Bonded?」

“What happened?”

『Wait, is he… is he an Alpha?』

“I killed her,” Spidey responded quietly, sounding defeated and exhausted. The hero’s shoulders hunched up by his ears. Wade reeled a little, backing up a few steps in disbelief.

“Excuse me? What do you mean, you killed her? You? As in, Mister Unaliving-Is-Bad-Deadpool-Don’t-Make-Me-Kick-You-Out-of-My-City himself?” the merc demanded.

『Did he just sayBonded?』

“Wait, that’s right. Let’s back the f*ck up right now, did you say Bonded? As in, you had a mate and you were basically almost married?” he clarified.

“Look, I don’t want to talk about any of this right now. I’m just gonna go home, man, all right? I’m sorry. I’m so tired. I should’ve just gone home instead of coming over after patrol. I don’t know why I told you any of that. I shouldn’t have started this conversation with you at three in the morning. I’m sorry,” Spider-Man replied, his shoulders sagging.

“Stop f*cking apologizing and f*cking tell me what the f*ck you mean by almost f*cking bonded to a f*cking Omega, and also what the f*ck you mean by you killed your f*cking girlfriend, Spider-Man, how about that? We can start with either one of those,” Wade demanded in response. He stood up from the couch and advanced into the so-called hero’s space menacingly.

The wallcrawler scooted back from Wade’s advancing footsteps until he was up against the opposite wall. “Whoah, okay, hey,” he said shakily, rising to his feet.

Wade let him scoot away until he could push off the wall and then edged him back toward the couch. “I’m waiting,” the Omega demanded.

Spidey abruptly stopped, taking a seat on the couch in a neutral posture, not submitting to Wade like another Omega accepting his authority or like a courting Alpha might, but not pushing him anymore either. Wade was once again reminded why he kept assuming Spidey was a Beta for so long, even when faced with evidence pointing very clearly to the contrary.

『Now he f*cking pays attention. Merc with a Mouth, one of the world’s best-hired guns, literally gets paid to stalk people, finally listens.』

「Who listens?」

『Not you.』

“All right, fine. We’ll talk about it. I’m sorry,” the webhead said flatly, sounding somehow even more impossibly tired. “Okay. Yeah. I’m an Alpha, not a Beta. I know I didn’t tell you that. It’s not like I try to hide it that hard or anything, in general. It was just… if Spider-Man’s a Beta, that’s one more thing separating me from who I am out of the suit,” he explained.

Wade crossed his arms but waited.

“I didn’t think it would matter, at least at first. Besides, I don’t exactly have a habit of snuggling up on horny Omegas, unless you count hanging out your couch, so it’s not like I’ve had any ruts to avoid you during. The scent-blockers and filters in the suit that prevented you from confirming I was an Alpha are to help keep people calm around me during patrol. It’s better if they don’t smell an angry, aggressive Alpha right after they’ve been traumatized, and it helps hide my civilian identity. When I found out how you felt about Alphas, I wasn’t sure what to do. Even though you drive me f*cking crazy, we were a really good team, and you were so easy to talk to. I didn’t want to lose my best friend over something I couldn’t help,” He breathed out, leaning over to rest his head in his hands.

Wade sat cautiously on the opposite side of the couch, suddenly wary of the hero who had crept in past his defenses to come to his best friend in a way that neither had expected. Wade was uncomfortable, on edge, checking that his katanas and even a few throwing knives were still in easy reach.

『I don’t like this. I don’t think we should be this close to him.』

「He’s not going todo anything to us.」

As Spidey spoke, he kept running his gloved hands along his mask and the back of his neck, almost like a nervous tic. Wade wondered if his Spidey-Sense was going off.

“I was in college, and I started seeing this girl. She was amazing, so smart, so talented, gosh. She was a brilliant chemist, a gorgeous Omega woman that didn’t take any sh*t for her gender or her dynamic. She was, sh-she...” He had to stop and gather himself. It almost sounded like he was sniffling under the mask. “Sorry. We weren’t fully Bonded or anything yet, since we were so young, but we were serious. I was going to ask her to mate with me right before, well, before everything. She had just figured out that I was Spider-Man, and she was so supportive of me. She was incredible.”

“So you, what, threw her off a building?” Wade bit out, anxiety roiling in his stomach.

「Jealous, much?」

“No, no, I...“ Spider-Man shook his head vehemently, rubbing at his neck more frantically and pulling at the neck of his suit below the rolled-up mask, creating the first real separation of the suit’s pieces and baring skin that would normally be well-protected from exposure. Wade caught the slightest whiff of the hero’s scent and stiffened slightly, though Webs didn’t seem to notice as he continued in his story. Although the other man’s scent was barely detectable at first, it got stronger as Spider-Man continued, and the message it sent was very clear and very alarming.

“I was sparring with Doctor Octavius, and a building came down. There was a little boy, and Gw — my Omega, her dad was a cop, he saved this kid, and I wasn’t fast enough or strong enough to save him. He died in my f*cking arms and he made me promise to take care of her. Of course, I was going to take care of her. Felt like we barely had time to bury him before there was more trouble. Then — then Goblin, y’know, Green Goblin, h-he figured out who I was. He kidnapped my Omega, threw her off the f*cking Brooklyn Bridge, and I, I’m so f*cking stupid, I didn’t catch her right, not enough webbing and she was going too fast and I couldn’t get to her in time and I f*cking killed her. My sweet girl — gosh, she would kick me right in the darn shin if she heard me talk like that about her — but she was, she was my sweet and smart and kind and perfect Omega and I loved her and I wanted to be her Alpha and give her everything I could, and instead I snapped her f*cking neck off the side of a bridge and left her body for her mom and her brothers with my webs still stuck to her. I had to go to her funeral and pretend it wasn’t my f*cking fault she was lying there dead.”

Spider-Man was sobbing, and Wade was frozen in place, unsure of what to do in response. The sour, metallic scent of distress and dried sweat coming off Webs was almost enough to cover the undercurrent that he desperately hoped he was misreading. Wade really, truly for once in his life was pretty sure he knew what was appropriate behavior in this situation, and he was fairly certain that it wasn’t a little experimentation to see if he was into enough Spidey to get over his Alpha anxiety for him. Especially not after watching the webhead lose his sh*t over some other Omega years after whatever he’d done to f*ck things up. Not that Wade would know anything about that.

「Who gives a sh*t, he’s pretty and wewant him.」

Webs smelled like a sudden rain in the desert, nothing at all like Ness, which helped a lot. He didn’t act the way that most Alphas in Wade’s usual social circles did which skeeved him out to no end. Still, hanging out on Wade’s couch every night was more than enough “Omega-snuggling,” as the hero had put it, to get the super-powered Alpha going. Spidey might not realize it, but he sure smelled like he was going into a rut, and they were going to need to figure out what to do with that.

『I don’t care how pretty he is. Being an Alphachanges things.』

Wade was also fairly certain that an evening of confessing how much he valued their relationship, revealing his dynamic despite his misgivings, making his sexual preferences clear, unlocking several new level in his tragic backstory for Wade’s benefit, (unintentionally) exposing his scent, and emotional sobbing were not indicators of someone well-prepared for a rut. Maybe those last couple things were normal pre-rut behavior, but he was pretty sure that Webs wasn’t doing it on purpose.

「I want to see if we like it. He’s still pretty, even if he is an Alpha. And if we don’t like it, we can just leave and go to work or something. He’ll be too busy to stop us from doing things our way.」

The yellow box sounded almost dreamy. A corresponding wave of both lust and adrenaline-spiking bloodlust coursed through Wade. He wasn’t sure which he was more concerned about.

『For once, you idiot, you’re halfway to the correct idea of appropriate behavior. Not that I’madvocating for so-called “appropriate behavior,” but I'm advocating for us not getting physically or emotionally injured by some hero, knot-head or not. Throw the man some fruit snacks and water bottles, let him borrow a flesh-light, and lock him in the guest bedroom for a couple of days. And for the love of Death, don’t let him get any closer to any of our scent glands while he’s in a rut. If he scents us, I will encourage and repeat absolutely everything Yellow says until you get that threat away from us.』

Wade did his best to focus on Spider-Man through the heated argument brewing between the boxes. The wallcrawler was still sitting curled up on the couch with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, breathing a hitching sob that he seemed to be trying to get under control.

“I’m sorry, ‘Pool. I j-just haven’t talked about her in a long time, and it’s kind of, um, hard still, y’know? It was my fault she died,” Spidey said, his voice breaking again. Wade tentatively reached out toward the hero, who finally looked up at him, seeming to try to focus on the mutate through his tear- and sweat-stained mask.

“Uhhh... sh*t, okay, um, sh*t,” Webs mumbled, seemingly to himself. He uncurled and straightened up a little, attempting a deep breath. “You’re important to me. I trust you. Maybe I’ll regret that later and a whole team of SHIELD agents will give me a very boring and self-satisfied ‘I told you so’ lecture when it happens. But you are, and I do.” Abruptly, the hero reached up a hand, without any further warning, pulled his mask off entirely. “My name is Peter.”

「I changed my mind. We don’t need to worry about leaving and having a job as back-up. I want Peter.Now.」

『You f*cking idiot. Are you going to do this to us? So what, the pretty Alpha hero gives you his name, and now we’re just going to bend over and take it? You’re both pathetic.』

“Stop being so loud,” Wade hissed under his breath. “It’s hard to pretend not to be batsh*t crazy when you’re arguing like this.”

“Are you okay, Wade?” Spidey — Peter? — asked anxiously, his hand outstretched like he was about to reach for Wade’s arm but had perhaps thought better of it at the last moment.

“Oh yeah, we’re fine! Yup, I’m totally fine, Webs!” Wade said loudly. “You just stay the f*ck over there, mmkay?”

“You can just call me — Oh. Yeah, okay.” The arachnid held up his hands, still holding his mask. “I’m not trying to take over your space.”

“Great! Stay there,” Wade commanded. He went to the kitchen to pour a big glass of water for the hero, who hadn’t even moved to put his hands down by the time Wade returned. “Why don’t you drink some water and breathe for a second, pal?”

Spidey nodded, big eyes locked with Wade’s mask, then reached out slowly for the cup. When had that started? When had Spidey started doing what Wade asked, started trusting him to make good decisions? The merc’s eyes were drawn helplessly to the hero’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the water.

The wallcrawler tentatively placed the glass on the floor. “I think I should maybe leave, huh?” He stood up, mask in hand, and backed up until he was next to the window he’d crawled in through. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m real sorry, bud. I’ll get out of your nest.”

Whatever. The spider wasn’t his responsibility.

「Could be, though.」

『Or, hear me out, he couldnot be.』

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Wade agreed.

It was a stupid move, really, one that showed he hadn’t been thinking. Wade had gotten far too relaxed with Spidey — with Peter. He’d been wearing soft pajama bottoms and a henley and had neglected to wear gloves because he was in his own home, despite the company, and then he’d thought nothing of walking over to the window to shut it behind the hero, or possibly to try to persuade him not to leave in the first place. He hadn’t quite decided yet when he reached out a hand to brush Peter’s hair back from his face while the other man readied his mask to pull back on. The unthinking, innocent gesture brought Wade’s wrist close to the hero’s face, effectively shoving his scent glands wafting unmistakably aroused, pre-heat pheromones right under the Alpha’s nose.

Peter crashed to his knees, mask forgotten on the ground as his fingers intertwined with Wade’s, pressing the mercenary’s rough, scarred wrist against his luscious, pink mouth. “Oh,” he breathed.

「f*ck.」

『f*ck.』

Chapter 22

Chapter Text

Peter was dimly aware that his knees were throbbing from the way he had just fallen to the ground. Forget the window. Who in their right mind would want to leave Wade’s nest? Certainly not Peter, whose fingers were now intertwined with his best friend’s hand to bring the man’s arm closer. He wondered dazedly when their relationship had gotten so close and intense, and why he hadn’t really noticed until now.

“Oh,” he whispered under his breath.

The mutate smelled unbelievable, like something cool and green and alive under the stench of all the leather, blood, and gunpowder. Peter wanted to wrap himself in that fragrance. He wanted to dig his damn fangs into it and taste it in the back of his throat. He wanted to suck it dry to wash away the heated-stone aroma of his own sweat and distress into the underlying petrichor scent so rarely brought to the surface, released and relaxed and satisfied at last.

Peter dragged his tongue along the sliver of scarred wrist exposed by the rucked-up shirtsleeve and gloveless hand, trying to consume that perfect Omega scent that had been shoved in his face. He wrapped his other arm around Wade’s meaty, micro-fleece-clad thigh, insistently pulling him closer. The growl he belatedly realized was coming from his own throat as he continued to lick and suck at the glands in the other man’s wrist was deep and loud, almost inhuman. If he didn’t know better than to think the man would respond positively to an Alpha like that, Peter would say the merc was almost pushing into his touch, even quivering a little in response.

He probably looked like an idiot, on his ass on Wade’s floor, trying to stand so he could press himself even further into the ex-soldier’s personal space. He was still attempting to get closer to the merc, rather than his more personally typical response of freaking out about being overwhelmed by an Omega scent. Well, he was still a little overwhelmed, because Wade smelled so f*cking great, and the fact that the sole reason he was even in a position to be noticing just how great the merc smelled was that he’d been spending so much time around Wade, in Wade’s nest, practically bathing in Wade’s stupid, glorious scent in all his free time.

Because of that, now Peter knew more than he had ever previously thought he wanted to about what the sight of an Alpha (of a man? of Peter?) on his knees apparently did for Wade, if the feedback loop of pheromones in the enclosed space was anything to go by. Peter’s dick was throbbing like the phrase “hard enough to pound nails” was more than just an expression. Of course, considering his own unexpectedly Wade-based masturbation in the shower that compelled him to go out on his lackluster date with Debra, not to mention the second, shameful jerk-*ff session after that date… Maybe it was exactly the amount he wanted to know, and maybe it wasn’t that unexpected. The thought of which honestly was not. f*cking. Helping.

Peter was rock-hard against the cup built into his suit, and he couldn’t remember the last time he wanted someone this badly, wanted anything this badly. Wait, yes he could — 

And it was like emotional whiplash. Of course, he could. As if he could ever forget wanting Gwen so similarly to this, the need to be buried in her, buried in her myrrh and manna ash scent, consuming and protecting her. The way he felt about Wade and hadn’t realized until it was literally shoved in his face. He hadn’t wanted with such fervor since he lost her. Somehow, years later and with someone who had fought beside him, the feeling might have been even more intense. Peter was a f*cking scumbag knot-head, and he was betraying Gwen’s memory by doing anything that looked like moving on.

The Alpha released Wade’s wrist and thigh like they’d suddenly become red-hot. He cleared his throat desperately, covering his nose and mouth with the hand that hadn’t just been pressing Wade’s to his face, and slumped back until he was leaning against the wall.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I would, y’know, be like this. I just didn’t realize that I, I mean, that you would — ” his breath hitched. “Wade, do you have a heat due?” It somehow came out as a question, and it wasn’t even the one Peter wanted to ask.

Wade was still standing over him with his hand outstretched, chest heaving, and stare blank and impassive behind that panda-eyed mask.

“What? I, uh… Hm. I mean, maybe technically? I’m about at the end of a suppressant pack, for whatever that’s worth. They’re not exactly regular, since Weapon X and all. I wasn’t expecting one. Guess I maybe should be though,” the scarred Omega admitted in a rough voice after clearing his throat several times. His eyes darted back and forth between the sleeve of his henley, which was now pushed even farther up his scarred and ruined and deliciously muscular forearm, and Peter’s exposed mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Peter blurted again, belatedly hiding his sharp Alpha fangs behind a hand. “I shouldn’t have, I mean, jeez. I-I know how you feel about Alphas. I can’t believe I did that to you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so sorry. ”

He managed to stick his fingers to the wall and haul himself up on trembling legs with a wince, though the new position briefly pressed him right up against Wade — who was still standing too close, panting and watching him, wide-eyed, in a way Peter already knew he would be shamefully recalling later in his shower in yet another Wade-centric date with himself — for a moment before Peter began to slowly edge away again.

The movement and brief proximity to both Wade’s extremely biteable pecs and yet more of the merc’s scent glands conspired to somehow make Peter’s co*ck even more impossibly hard. His balls ached in a reminder of their taut fullness despite the way he’d been unable to stop touching himself for the past week or more. The cup nestled in his suit’s crotch was getting sticky with precome, and it was digging into his erection to the point that it was starting to become truly painful.

If Wade looked down, Peter’s arousal was probably going to be obvious at this point. This was going to get even more awkward and probably become traumatizing for the poor guy.

“I’m so sorry. I should go if you’re coming up so close on your heat. I shouldn’t have just assumed I was invited inside your apartment, into your nest. Oh gosh, I just cried about my dead girlfriend and then basically pounced on you right after. I’m sorry. I’ll go,” Peter apologized, unable to stop his anxious rambling. He still could barely think straight. Those words, at least, seem to shake Wade from his reverie.

“Not sure that’s such a great idea, uh, Peter. Have you been paying any attention at all to your behavior tonight? Not to mention that, ah, definitely not-so-little problem you’ve got going on there.” Wade nodded his head toward the crotch of Peter’s skintight spandex-and-kevlar suit, smirk visible even through his mask. “Probably not gonna be too fun to websling with, if you can even manage to drag yourself out of my window this time.”

“What’s your point?” asked Peter, fighting the urge to tug at the clinging blue material.

“I think hanging out with me as much as you have been might count as enough ‘horny-Omega-snuggling’ to jumpstart a rut for you. Maybe I should be the one apologizing.” To Peter’s surprise, the merc took a half-step forward, pulling at the neck of his loose-fitting henley like it was suddenly too tight. The action sent another wave of his aggressively alive scent toward Peter, who was lucky that he was still stuck to the wall by his hands, or he might have gone crashing to the floor again. Wade reared back and began to pace restlessly, continuing to pull at his collar and occasionally scrubbing at his masked face and muttering over his shoulder.

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe,” Peter attempted to reassure him after a few moments from where he was still plastered to the wall when it seemed like the other man didn’t have anything else to add — or at least nothing directed at him.

“Why, because you’re Spider-Man? Because you’re a big, nasty Alpha?” Wade sneered.

The hero licked suddenly dry lips. “No! Because you’re important to me, Wade.”

The mutate mercenary stopped in his tracks right in front of Peter.

“I am?” he asked in a small voice, so timid and utterly uncharacteristic of himself that Peter likely would have assumed he was joking if he couldn’t see even through the red-and-black mask how the other man’s face had twisted with worry and confusion. “I mean, yeah, of course, I am.” He shrugged.

“Of course you are,” Peter agreed. “You’re my best friend, remember? We just had that whole dramatic heart-to-heart before I lost my mind?”

“Oh.” Wade ducked his head, which wasn’t enough to hide the mottled blush that crept up behind the scars and sores on his exposed face, and scuffed one bare foot against the floor. He looked taken aback by the statement, like it was almost the opposite of what he had expected. The webslinger advanced hesitantly, palms up.

“Okay, this is not exactly how I planned on doing this. Actually, I kind of didn’t plan on doing this maybe ever, because I don’t do these things,” said Peter. This had been a much less scary prospect when it was just Debra. Of course, he hadn’t been spending all his time with Debra, low-key obsessing over her while pretending to himself that he wasn’t, masturbating to fantasies of her, and developing the closest relationship he’d had in years with her. Also, he had only been asking the blonde girl on a date, not potentially proposing to blow a rut’s worth of loads in and on her. Oh, and Debra didn’t own twin katanas that she could butcher him with as easy as breathing.

“Uhhh… you don’t do what?” Wade prompted. His eyebrows were knitted in confusion below the red-and-black spandex.

“You, uh, you,” Peter faltered, then cleared his throat nervously. He could totally do this. He twisted the Spider-Man mask in his grip as he spoke, feeling the flexible hardware inside bend with the fabric. “You’re kind of more than my best friend to me. I don’t know what that, uh, means exactly. You might have noticed that I’m still kinda f*cked up about that sort of thing.” The arachnid laughed hollowly. He spoke fast, trying to get out the words as the twin buzzes of anxiety and the demands of his Alpha instincts rose in his mind. “I’m not really sure when it happened, but you understand more about — about both sides of my life than anyone else. We can keep up with each other’s references and you’ve always got my back in a fight. I-I don’t have to worry that if I fail or make a mistake, you’ll have to pay for it. I’m really — I’m not… I don’t know.” He faltered.

“I’ve always wanted you to be more than my friend, Webs. You already knew that, though. I’m pretty obvious about it,” Wade snickered weakly.

“You could say that,” Peter agreed with a wry smile, slightly relaxed by the Omega’s easy acceptance of at least part of what he was saying. Maybe they could save the heavy talking for when they weren’t both out-of-their-minds horny and it was easier to focus on anything but the way Wade’s shirt stretched so deliciously over f*cking cut pecs.

“So, what do you want to do about it?” Wade prompted, stalking toward him once again. “Because I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to leave.”

Peter’s co*ck f*cking twitched as he watched the mercenary’s graceful, powerful body advance on him. “I mean, we could try to — That is — Look, I know I’m basically on the verge of total rut-brain right now, but being super horny for you on main doesn’t make me incapable of consent!” he burst out.

Wade made a noise like a whistling tea kettle, which then cut off abruptly with a hacking cough. “I just choked on spit. Hey, Webs, tell me again about how you’ve got a big Wade Wilson boner right now, like, for me specifically.”

Peter scowled, but his shoulders relaxed and he released his grip on the wall. That was more like a normal Wade response. He could handle that. “It’s not funny! My dick is starting to hurt, Wade!”

They locked big brown doe eyes to round white lenses and burst into laughter, tension cracked by the ridiculousness of what Peter had just said.

“Aw, poor baby boy,” Wade cooed, bracketing Peter in with his thickly-corded arms and looming over him. “Need me to kiss it better, Alpha?”

Oh. Oh. Peter hadn’t understood the fetish some people had of being referred to by their dynamic until he heard it fall out of Wade’s mouth like an invocation, supplicating even as he teased and pushed.

He tipped his head forward to nudge at Wade’s masked nose. “I think you’re gonna need your mouth if you’re going to be kissing anything, big boy,” he said, straightening up so his body was flush with Wade’s from shoulder to thigh. “C’mon, how’re you gonna taste me through that mask, huh?”

Wade stiffened a little against him, and not in an exciting way. Well, he was noticeably hard against Peter’s belly, but that wasn’t his main point of focus at the moment. “Nah-uh,” he said, almost petulant. “Nope. Nyet. Nein. No thank you. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”

“What’s the big deal? We eat together all the time. I’ve seen your skin,” Peter protested.

“Yeah, but I always keep my face on the whole time we hang out,” replied Wade.

“Your... face,” Peter said slowly. Now not only was his dick starting to hurt, but he had the singular sensation that his brain was starting to itch from the pheromone co*cktail swirling between them. “You mean your mask?”

“Yeah, my face.”

“I practically just tore your sleeve off to get to your skin, Wade.”

“That’s just because you have rut-brain, ya knot-head.”

Well, that was just rude. Peter was still perfectly in control of himself. Okay, he was perfectly in control of himself again now that he was aware of what was going on and had recovered from being punched in the sinuses by the pheromones of the Omega who had pushed him into a rut.

“So having a boner means I’m suddenly not capable of a meaningful discussion of boundaries?” he pushed back in annoyance. Hadn’t he just established this?

“Please don’t talk to me about your boner right now,” Wade groaned.

Peter flushed. “Oh, I — I didn’t mean to — I don’t want to actually make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m just going to jump you right now if you keep reminding me about it,” the merc continued as if he hadn’t spoken, eying him up and down. “f*ck it, all right!” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, let’s do this. We’re doing this right now. No take-backsies.”

The Omega rolled his mask up, though only over the bridge of his nose, and menacingly pressed forward Peter back against the wall. The move was aggressive, but Wade was tall enough that it also meant that the way he was baring his throat the slightest bit to the shorter Alpha as he leaned in was very intentional.

Peter accepted the soft challenge for what it was, allowing Wade to advance on him until he was crowded tight against the wall. He then expertly flipped their bodies, so he was the one pushing Wade up against the hard surface, sliding his hands up under the Omega’s shirt and running his nails lightly down the ridged scar tissue of his chest.

Peter wanted to make the larger man feel as dizzy and off-balance with need as he was. He nosed at the mutate’s scarred jaw, kitten-licking at the exposed scent glands and finally filling his mouth again with that cool, green scent coming off warm flesh until he was rewarded with even more of Wade’s exposed throat and a noise he wanted to eat.

He lifted sticking fingers to slide under the edges of the Deadpool mask. He slowly, so slowly, rolled the mask further and further up Wade’s face, revealing a Greek nose and high cheekbones to go with his diamond-shaped jawline. Peter traced lightly over the slight bump where Wade’s nose had been broken more than once before his forced mutation, ghosting the pads of his fingers between patches of raw, pink skin to sweep across a strong brow.

Huh. Wade’s eyes were blue. Peter wondered briefly if he had perhaps been blonde, before everything. “Can I kiss you now?” the Alpha asked gently, reveling in the heat of the mutate’s gasping breaths against his hair, which juxtaposed so deliciously with the coolness of his scent.

“I’m still not taking my clothes off,” Wade replied flatly, shoulders hunching as he avoided the question.

Peter ran a hand along the tense muscles, tilting his head back to look into the Omega’s grey-blue eyes, stomach flipping as they made unflinching eye contact. “Okay,” he agreed simply. “So can I kiss you?”

“Okay? Did he just say okay?” Wade asked into the aether, continuing his trend of not answering Peter’s question. His eyes went a little out of focus, and he tilted his head in the way that meant he was conferring with the boxes. It was strange to see without the mask in the way.

“Yeah, I did. I know I already kinda jumped you, but I’m just — I was caught off guard. I’m not an animal just because I’m halfway to popping a knot, dude,” Peter reminded him. Despite his best efforts, he was a little offended. He also wanted very dearly to get in Wade already, was more on edge every second they weren’t tied together, or at least far enough apart from one another that he wasn’t being tortured by the Omega’s scent and heat and gorgeous body.

Wade gave a little groan at Peter’s statement nonetheless, tame as it was compared to the thoughts he was still keeping to himself. “You can’t just f*ckin’ say things like that, Spidey. Being all nice about me not getting nekkid and reminding me about that monster you’re packin’, when you smell like that and I’m gonna be even more stupid about you than usual soon. It’s not fa-air,” Wade complained, though his voice broke on the last word. The Omega’s attempt at dramatically throwing himself off the wall and onto Peter had ended with his half-hard dick grinding against Peter’s strong thigh still slotted between his pajama-clad legs.

“Don’t gotta play fair to play nice with you, big guy,” Peter teased lightly before sobering again, though he continued to press his thigh against the mutate’s growing length through the soft fabric.

He was starting to feel a little crazy with the way his emotions were bouncing around so easily. He knew his rut was going to hit a peak soon, and he’d rather not have to sit right next to the first Omega he’d wanted to f*ck in about five years for the entirety of it without very clearly coming to some kind of conclusion first.

Wade only groaned in response to the Alpha’s teasing. His head sagged to rest on Peter’s shoulder as he let more of his weight fall on the hero.

“We don’t have to do this, Wade. You don’t have to take any of your clothes off. I can just leave, and it will be okay. If you decide you want to maybe, like, try this next time? If you want a next time? We can do that too,” Peter reminded him and began to disentangle himself.

The mercenary seemed to steel himself at that and prevented the smaller man from moving any further away by clinging to the tight spandex and kevlar of the Spider-Man suit. “Forget that sh*t,” he snapped, breathing hard. “I am canonically unkillable, motherf*cker. What, my crush wants to touch my dick, and I’m suddenly gonna turn into a little bitch? So you’re an Alpha. Okay, sure, that’s not the best surprise ever, but you’re still Spider-Man. You’re tied with Cap for my #1 hero, pretty much the good guy of all good guys. If I’m safe with anyone, it’s gonna be you. You’re also, like, so pretty — like totally not fair, man. Plus, even your pre-rut pheromones have me ready to pop my little Omega knot right now.”

Peter made a strangled noise at that last comment. His hands gripped Wade’s waist with a trace of his super-strength, fingers suddenly grown sticky once more against the fabric. “Okay, so we’re doing this? This is okay with you?” he confirmed for the umpteenth time.

“Please don’t make me say yes again. I’m gonna f*ckin’ lose it on you, Webs.”

“You can call me Peter, Wade.”

“Okay, Peter-Wade.”

Peter slapped the merc lightly across the top of the thigh, making him moan and buck against Peter’s leg again. “I’m serious. I need enthusiastic consent, and I need you to know that if you tell me to slow down or to stop or if you don’t like something, then I’ll listen to that.”

Wade’s eyes unfocused briefly, apparently listening to the boxes again. “Aaand what about if I want you to go faster or do something in particular?”

“Then use your words, and I'll do my best to accommodate you,” assured Peter. “This is important. Can you do that for me, babe?”

Wade whimpered, his arousal against Peter’s thigh at full attention and movements on the verge of graduating from a little grinding to outright humping. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that, Alpha.”

Forget pre-rut, Peter was going to tilt over into full rut from how hot it was when Wade called him “Alpha.” The arachnid pressed his mouth lightly against the mutate’s cheek in a chaste kiss. “Thank you. Do you like calling me that, hm?” He brushed his lips down Wade’s jaw, toward his wide mouth.

“Mmm, yes, Alpha,” he groaned. “Want you to tell me, yeah?”

“Tell you what, big boy?” Peter licked the Omega’s lower lip, then sucked at the scent gland under his jaw again.

“Ah! I want you to tell me what to do,” Wade panted, turning his head to seek Peter’s mouth with his own, dick making a little wet spot on the front of his pants as he rubbed off against Peter’s leg. “Like, for real, not just in a cute little Alpha way. Can you — can we do that?”

Oh! Oh sh*t. “Okay, yeah,” Peter assured him after a moment of thoughtful silence. It had been, well, a hot minute since Peter had allowed any kind of power dynamic into the bedroom. Of course, it had been a hot minute since he’d let anyone into his bedroom, so there was that.

“No, no, never mind. I’m dumb, that was dumb. I don’t need that. We’re good. You’re good. We don’t have to — never mind, okay?” Wade was shaking his head, looking anywhere but at the Alpha. It seemed Peter had taken a little too long to answer.

“No, hey, listen to me. I want to do that. I like that! I just haven’t in a little bit,” the brunet explained. “I really, really need you to promise you’ll tell me how you’re doing and if you don’t like stuff, okay? Think we can do that, babe?”

Wade’s hips jerked and stuttered against him. “Yeah, uh-huh,” he agreed hastily, panting into Peter’s neck.

Peter finally released his tight grip on the bald merc’s hip bones. He grabbed a wrist in each hand, pinning them against the wall and sliding them up until they were level with Wade’s shoulder. “Be a good boy and give me a kiss,” he demanded.

The mutate responded quickly and eagerly as if proving how well he could follow directions. He pressed his oddly-textured lips firmly against Peter’s full, pink mouth, straining lightly against the hold on his arms and rutting against the Alpha’s thigh. Despite its clear eagerness, the kiss was slow, Wade’s mouth working against his almost languidly.

Well, that just wasn’t going to do it.

Peter nudged the Omega’s arousal with his leg, made Wade’s mouth fall open in a sharp intake of breath. His tongue delved into his open mouth, learning Wade’s taste from the inside out, caressing his little fangs, and memorizing the crisscrossing scars that were present even on the man’s soft tongue as it slid against Peter’s. He bit lightly at the mutate’s lip, then did it again a little harder when Wade groaned affirmatively, letting his fang sink into supple flesh.

“Yeah, look at you,” Peter said. “You can be so good. I love it when you’re good, Wade.” The Alpha’s neglected co*ck twitched in his suit a little as Wade moaned into his mouth. He released one of the merc’s hands briefly to adjust himself.

Wade took the opportunity to grab at Peter’s ass, pulling their crotches tight against one another and rutting frantically against him.

“f*ck, I need to be able to feel you,” Peter said.

“Yeah, do it, Alpha,” Wade encouraged, plucking at Peter’s suit to find the separation between the top and bottom.

“Hey, I got it,” Peter assured, brushing him away. Anyway, if Wade got his bare hands on Peter’s dick, Peter was going to come all over them and make the Omega lick it up, and he wanted to save that for a little bit later.

Chapter 23

Chapter Text

Wade buried his face in Peter’s neck, yanking down the high neck of his suit with his free hand to get at bare skin, and rocked against Peter’s thigh. The soft material of his pajamas seemed to stick to his skin, easing the friction of his arousal against the Alpha’s leg as he finally began to drip slick for Peter after being teased for so long.

Peter could smell the slick and precome on Wade as he scrambled to pull himself out of the tight leggings, pushing the spandex down until his co*ck sprung free from the suit material and his full, aching sack was no longer trapped. He gripped himself below the knot and pushed Wade’s henley up a little so he could rub the spongy crown of his dick against Wade’s stomach, smearing sticky precome across his abs. There was something deeply satisfying to the animal part of his brain about marking the merc up even in this one small way.

“Is that — ?” Wade said. “Oh god, you’re — Can I please touch it, Alpha?”

In response, Peter pulled the merc’s hand away from the neck of his suit and wrapped it around his half-blown knot instead, making them both groan. He pushed insistently into the loose circle of Wade’s fingers. “Come on, you wanted to touch it,” the hero goaded, struck by inspiration (and the ever-present compelling desire to be a little sh*t). “Or is Daddypool all talk?”

The grip on his co*ck tightened. “Baby boy,” whimpered Wade. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“C’mon, Daddy, be good for your baby boy. Show me how you’ve been dying to touch me since I showed up and started making trouble for you.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Wade said, a little muffled by the way his head was still pressed into Peter’s neck. The big Omega began to jerk Peter’s co*ck eagerly, though it chafed a bit with only a little precome to ease the friction.

Difficult as it was to even contemplate letting Wade stop touching him, Peter pulled Wade’s hand off him and nudged it down to the merc’s pajama bottoms. “Why don’t you slick me up a little first?”

The Omega complied readily, shoving his hand down the back of his pants to slide his fingers through the dripping mess between his own cheeks. He wrapped his now-slick hand around Peter’s shaft again. “There you go, baby boy. How’s that? Better?”

The soft, sticky sounds of Wade stroking Peter’s slick-coated co*ck filled the space between them. Peter f*cked into Wade’s hand as much as the other worked him over. “Yeah, yeah, that’s good, Daddy. f*ck, you’re so wet for me already, aren’t you? Show me how you want to make me feel good.”

He let go of the mercenary’s hand where he’d pinned against the wall, and Wade immediately grabbed Peter’s shoulder, holding himself up with the Alpha as an anchor. f*ck, Peter had been more than half-joking with the whole “Daddypool” thing, but Wade’s frantic enthusiasm was making him re-evaluate how much of a joke it was.

Peter wrapped his arm firm around Wade’s middle to support his weight as Wade melted against him, hot breath puffing against his neck. Through everything, the Omega kept up his rhythm against Peter’s leg, rubbing off against him.

“Better not make a mess before I get to play with you, Daddy,” Peter teased.

“Not fair, Webs,” Wade croaked, still rocking against Peter’s muscled thigh in time with the movement of his hand.

Peter laughed, the delighted sound bubbling out of him and turning into a gasp as Wade’s grip tightened around his knot. “Oh yeah, right there!” He could feel his balls drawing up tight as his org*sm built hot and bright in his belly. “f*ck, I’m gonna come, Daddy! Where do you want it?”

“Oh sh*t, I want you to come on me,” Wade said. “Make a mess on Daddy, baby boy.”

Peter pushed up Wade’s shirt, exposing the mangled flesh beneath. The Omega jerked him off frantically, pressing somehow closer. The head of Peter’s co*ck brushed against textured abs, and then he was shooting off with a cry, ropes of come splattering against the merc’s taut stomach.

As Peter tried to recover the ability to speak, Wade swiped fingers through the mess and licked them clean, leaving the rest to drip down his torso and stick to his shirt. Jesus, that visual alone was enough to make Peter want to try to go again already. He’d thought coming would have been enough to hold off the peak of his rut for a little longer, but he’d thought wrong.

He kissed the dazed merc, tasting himself in the bigger man’s mouth. He pushed him flat against the wall again, then webbed him to it at the shoulder and wrists.

“Just like old times,” the Omega snickered and winked. “Gonna lecture me on the appropriate use of stabbing now? Maybe do a little stabbing yourself?”

“Nah, thought I’d put my mouth to better use.” Peter dropped to his knees, making the mutate gasp.

“Oh, okay, cool,” he said in a strangled voice. “Awesome. Spider-Man just webbed me up and is gonna suck my dick. It’s not like I’ve jerked off to this exact scenario like ten times.”

“Yeah?” Peter asked, trying not to let the fact that Wade continued to call him by his vigilante moniker and not his actual name bother him in favor of the more pleasing visual in front of him. He pressed his face against the outline of the merc’s package, mouthing at it and scenting him through the slick-soaked micro-fleece. “f*ck, you smell so good, Wade. It’s making me crazy.”

“Yeah, well, join — Ah! — the club, pal.” The merc’s legs trembled as Peter got his fangs around either side of Wade’s dick through the fabric and bit lightly. “sh*t, do that again.”

The hero obliged, mouthing at his dick until the fabric was almost as wet with saliva as it was slick and precome, grazing his fangs along the shaft and making the man moan brokenly. He thumbed at the single-button fly of Wade’s pants. While he wanted to strip the Omega down and touch him everywhere, he restrained himself to simply unbuttoning Wade’s fly and pulling his dick through the slit of his boxer briefs.

For a second Peter just looked at it, taking in the scarring and the shifting texture of angry, chafed red and smooth, perfect pink. He wanted to ask if it felt different or if there were any extra-sensitive spots that he could play with, but Wade’s face was storming over with a look of embarrassment and something like betrayal the longer Peter simply examined his erection without making a move to do anything else. He wanted to convince Wade to let him touch him everywhere else, and just looking at him wasn’t the way to do that.

Peter inhaled as he finally got his first taste of Wade’s dick, and the taste of the ex-soldier’s flesh mixed with the potent pheromones was like a lightning bolt to the brain. The spider groaned briefly around the length, eyes shutting involuntarily, before getting to work. He lapped soothingly at the scarred expanses of Wade’s dick and kissed along the edges of the painful-looking parts. He licked and sucked at the crown of it until the mutate was writhing and trying to break free of the webs. He rolled his tongue over the dips and ridges of the hard flesh, taking it into his mouth inch by inch. Wade made a sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper that made Peter want to hold him down and tell him how good he was.

“You taste as good as you smell, babe,” he murmured against Wade’s thigh. He kissed down the shaft and mouthed at the Omega’s growing knot until he was bucking up and trying to thrust into Peter’s mouth. “Ah ah ah! Be good and hold still for me.”

He waited for a moment to determine if the merc would listen to him, and wetly kissed the head of his co*ck when he settled down with a shudder. He consciously relaxed his jaw and throat so he could sink his head down onto the other man’s thick length. He couldn’t quite make it to the base, so he stripped off his gloves and began to slide his hand up and down in sync with his mouth, squeezing at the sensitive flesh of Wade’s small knot with every pass. He locked bright brown eyes to dazed grey-blue ones, flashing a smile at the Omega around his co*ck.

Wade splayed his thighs wider with each stroke, his groans and whimpers escalating into whining and begging. Peter was already hard again from the dizzying amount of pheromones being released and could feel his rut creeping up on him again.

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Alpha! sh*t, you’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that. Can I — Can I come? Will you let me — f*ck! — let me come, Alpha?” the mutate asked, gravelly voice pitching up as he grew more frantic. “Please, I want to be good. You have to tell me if I — sh*t! f*ck! — if I can — ”

Peter gave one last hard suck before sliding his mouth off of the Omega’s shaft, grazing fangs along the underside as he did and making him shudder. He stood up and spit in his hand before taking both their co*cks in one hand and rubbing them up and down one another.

“Oh god, that’s — sh*t, this is even more — Please, you’re gonna make me — ” the scarred merc begged.

Peter thumbed at Wade’s weeping dickslit. “Come on, you can take it,” he encouraged as he f*cked into the tight circle of his hand, letting the friction build a pleasant heat through his pelvis. The heat grew as Wade’s head tossed back and forth in distress.

“I can’t! I can’t — Ah! — can’t stop it. Please tell me I can come, I’m — No, sh*t! I — I — ” the Omega sobbed, tears welling in his eyes.

Peter stroked them both mercilessly until Wade’s co*ck stiffened and began to pulse, just at the precipice of no return. “come for me! Give it to me. Let it all out,” he demanded.

The merc gave in with a cry, wetness spilling down his cheeks as his dick jumped and spurted in Peter’s grasp, hot fluid running down his hand over both their lengths. The hero didn’t stop stroking the two of them, watching the merc writhe in overstimulation at his touch. That big, muscular body helpless against him, a tied down and quivering mess, pushed him over the edge into his own org*sm, his seed spilling and mixing with Wade’s.

“How was that, babe?” Peter panted through a broad smile, once he’d mostly recovered. He couldn’t help the overtures of soft affection that his rut brought out in him any more than he could help the way it made him want to cover his Omega with his own body until they felt safe and then f*ck them full to bursting with his come.

“f*ck, so good,” Wade practically purred. He seemed unbothered by the ruined mess of his pants. “Gonna f*ck me now, Webs? Gonna give me that big Alpha knot?”

Peter tore at the webbing holding Wade in place, which seemed to just make him more excited. He needed to hold his prey down himself, feel his Omega squirming and writhing underneath him. He returned to kissing the merc, sucking on the strangely textured and scarred tongue, and trying to focus on the way it made Wade writhe against him and clutch at his shoulder rather than how he might have gotten those scars in the first place.

“Dunno, are you gonna let me f*ck you, pretty boy? Gonna let me in?” Peter slid his hands down the back of Wade’s pants to grab at his muscled cheeks. He struggled a little to keep his head enough through his arousal to pay attention to the big mercenary’s body language

“Yeah, yeah,” the merc agreed, scenting Peter’s neck.

“You’re being so sweet for me. Can I have you in your nest, babe?”

“Yes, already!” the Omega snapped, some switch in him flipping from f*cked out and pleased back to guarded anxiety. “Just f*cking f*ck me already!”

“Okay, we’re going. Didn’t exactly plan for this, huh?” Peter lifted Wade easily, hefting the mutate until he got the picture and wrapped his legs around Peter’s waist. The hero walked them down the short hallway to Wade’s bedroom and gently deposited him in the mound of pillows and blankets. He made to pull off Wade’s pants but was stopped by a self-conscious swat to his hand.

“Clothes stay on,” the merc reminded him through a clenched jaw.

“Okay, okay,” Peter soothed. “Just a little, all right?”

Wade breathed deeply, eyes unfocused for a long, silent moment. “Fine,” he responded tersely. “Only as much as you need.”

“All right, babe,” Peter agreed. He slid the micro-fleece pajamas down just below where the roundness of Wade’s ass met the gorgeously-muscled meat of his thighs, right into the crease where he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth in and get a good taste of the Omega. He drank in the sight of the strong body below him, laid out with muscles tensed and dick already weeping precome again with need.

Peter reached between Wade’s legs to roll his balls gently between his hands, making the bigger man moan. He let his fingers wander further back, circling the mutate’s slick asshole. He pressed the pads of his fingers against Wade’s rim, equal parts threat and promise.

“Get up on your hands and knees for me, big guy.” He drew back so the merc had enough room to comply, pleased when he rolled over and pushed up into a presenting position without complaint or hesitation. The Alpha returned to teasing at Wade’s hole with spidery fingers, appreciating the view once again.

“Oh f*ck, please put it in, Peter. Please, I’ll be good, I promise, please just put it in,” Wade begged, and jeez, Peter would do anything Wade wanted as long as he kept using his real name, not to mention how prettily he begged. The Omega was grinding back desperately against Peter’s thick shaft, making the other man groan and tighten his grip on his hip as slick smeared across his co*ck between those scarred, muscled asscheeks he still wanted to sink his teeth into.

“I will remind you. Once again. Wasn’t really. Planning for this,” Peter panted brokenly, slipping his right hand between them and easily sliding one finger into the merc’s eager hole. “I’m not really prepared. Do you have any, uh…?” His question about condoms trailed off in equal parts embarrassment and eager fascination at the sounds Wade made as Peter began to pump his finger in and out of the Omega’s slicked-up asshole.

“Not a girl, Webs. Not gonna get me pregnant. Healing factor means I couldn’t catch anything or give it to you even if I was f*cking anyone else,” the mutate ground out with only the slightest trace of bitterness in his tone and his scent. He moaned as the Alpha pushed another digit into him, spreading his hole wider.

“Just making sure that’s how you want me to f*ck you, big guy,” Peter soothed gently, trying to get a handle on his emotional whiplash at Wade switching between calling him by his name and just calling him Spider-Man. At least he felt slightly less out of his head with his rut now that he was inside the Omega, even as the idea of f*cking into him until he was bred up made him a little crazy — yeah, he was putting a pin in that one. He pressed his hard dick against Wade’s thigh again, an insistent reminder of his interest in the man. “You feel so f*cking good. Gonna finger-f*ck this pretty asshole open until you can’t think. How does that sound?”

“Ye-es,” Wade moaned, dropping his head down against the mattress and rocking against the webslinger’s hand.

“Yeah, good boy. You’re taking it so good for me.” Peter pressed a second slim finger against Wade’s rim, biting his lip to control his impatient arousal at the sight of it slipping right in alongside his index finger. Wade’s hole was opening up so easily to let him in, but his slick channel still grasped at Peter’s fingers so eagerly. His co*ck twitched hopefully as he rutted against the merc’s cheeks, intent on properly stretching and relaxing him before he ruined that perfect asshole.

“Please, Pete. Want you in me,” Wade whined desperately. “Want you to f*cking ruin me. Want you to f*ck me and fill me up so I can feel your come dripping out of me later.” Well, they had the same idea about that, at least.

“You asked for it, babe.” Peter slipped his fingers free and wrapped them around the base of his co*ck instead. He prodded experimentally with his co*ckhead, crying out when the Omega’s hole opened up so sweetly to the pressure, enveloping the sensitive crown of his member. “Your asshole is just so greedy for me, isn’t it?”

“Oh my f*cking Christ, stop teasing me,” Wade snapped. The mutate shoved his hips back and impaled himself determinedly on Peter’s thick length. The Alpha hero’s grip on Wade’s hip tightened, but he didn’t stop him.

Peter just knelt in place, watching in something akin to awe as the big Omega’s hole eagerly swallowed up inch after inch of his co*ck. He recovered once Wade stalled out, with a good inch or more ahead of the knot still outside of his body. Slick was dribbling out of the ex-soldier, soaking Peter’s co*ck and making a glistening mess of Wade’s pants. The wetness made a delightfully filthy noise as the hero rocked experimentally in and out of the Omega.

“Couldn’t quite take it all by yourself, huh? Let me help you, pretty boy.” He held the merc in place and thrust forward until his inflating knot was pressed tight against his rim. A whimper tore its way out of Wade’s throat, but he just dropped his head onto the mattress and scooted his knees wider, making more room for Peter between his legs. The Alpha was more than happy to press in as close as he could, f*cking hard and fast into the mutate’s slick, welcoming channel.

“f*ck, that feels — oh God, right there! Want you to breed my hole good. Want you to come inside me until I’m — Uhn! — so full it’s spilling out of me!” Wade cried out as if in anguish, then buried his pinking face in the pillows.

sh*t, that was hot. Well, that was going to be burned in Peter’s brain forever.

“Oh yeah, gonna breed you up so full, pretty boy,” the hero practically snarled in agreement as his knot started to catch on the rim of Wade’s hole. “Gonna empty my balls in you until you’re worried you’ll catch for real.”

The Omega moaned in torturous rapture, his hole gushing a fresh wave of slick around Peter’s co*ck and dripping down his thighs. The sounds of squelching and flesh slamming together were descending beyond filthy into downright profane. Peter ran his thumb across the tight, pink ring gripping his shaft as he forced his expanding knot in and out.

“D’you think it’ll fit, babe?” he cooed, pressing the digit into the stretched-out entrance alongside his co*ck. “Do you think you can take all of me?”

“Please! You can — f*ck, you can make me take it!” Wade moaned as he was stretched and filled to what seemed to be his limit. “I need it in me. I need to be good for you. Will you — Ah! Please make me take it!”

“You’re already good for me, Wade. Such a good boy,” the Alpha soothed, sliding his thumb out of the tight, slick hole alongside his co*ck forcing it open, and rubbing his hand along the Omega’s flank. “Relax, babe. I’ve got you. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Just like that, Wade’s body softened enough for Peter’s knot to stretch his asshole even impossibly wider and make a home for itself inside him. Peter bent to press his chest to Wade’s back, pushing his shirt up and kissing between his shoulder blades and then letting his fangs press lightly near the merc’s spine, far enough away from any scent glands that Wade shouldn’t be worried about getting bitten. He held tight to the Omega and reached around to caress his dick with the lightest of touch.

“f*ck, you’re so good,” Peter growled against the merc’s flesh, rocking against his ass to get just enough friction between them with the little he was able to move in and out. Wade might hate him a little bit for this later, for making him fragile and soft and bare like this, for revealing himself and being gentle and sweet and just plain old Peter instead of the spider-themed hero Wade idolized and wanted. Peter knew that, but he couldn’t find it in himself to give two sh*ts at the moment, buried deep in his big, pretty Omega and doing everything he could to make it good for him. “Look at you, sweetheart. You’re so good for me. You wanna come?”

Wade just whimpered wordlessly into the pillows as his co*ck wept and his body clenched around Peter.

“What a good boy. sh*t, you’re so hot inside. I can feel your hole still trying to milk my co*ck, to get you bred up real f*ckin’ good on my knot.” He groaned as his knot inflated that last little bit, and he could hardly move at all inside the tight channel of the Omega’s body. “You can come when I do, babe.”

The mutate mumbled something that might have been a “thank you.” Then, even more softly, “Please, Peter.”

At the use of his name along with the plea, the spider slammed home one last time, crying out as his org*sm washed over him, then pressing his fangs against rippling back muscles as his heavy sack emptied steadily into the willing Omega beneath him. His hand clenched around Wade’s length, and Peter barely had to stroke it before the merc was sobbing and spurting in his fist and across the sheets, hole locking tight around Peter’s co*ck and milking it for all it was worth.

Heedless of his own sticky fingers, Peter hauled Wade upright, tugged his pajama bottoms up to cover his front, and expertly manipulated their bodies so they were laying on their sides while Peter’s knot was still inflated and tying them together.

“Was I good f’r you?” Wade asked softly. He grabbed the Alpha by the wrist and brought his hand up to his mouth to lick clean. To Peter’s surprise, the merc snuggled closer without any prodding or fussing.

“Yeah, you were so good for me, pretty boy.”

“‘nks, Alpha,” the mutate slurred. “Can you cover me ‘gain?” He tugged feebly on Peter’s forearm and tried to turn them over on his own.

Peter obliged, carefully letting Wade roll onto his stomach and settling his weight so he was draped over the sleepy, scarred Omega, knot still tying them together. “Whatever you want, babe,” he yawned. Maybe could just lay like this until his rut made him crazy again.

Peter awoke sometime later to a hot, brawny body curled around him.“Need you, Webs. Need you now,” Wade was muttering in Peter’s ear. The Omega was kissing and licking along Peter’s jaw, sucking at his scent glands as if he’d die without it. The merc’s scent had strengthened as they slept until it was musky with heat that covered up some of the sharpness of his normal, natural fragrance, but once again the smell was inescapably laced with the bitter tang of an anxious Omega.

sh*t. Well, that was enough to wake anyone up. He roused himself more fully, taking in the way Wade’s hard body was curled into him, kissing and licking and caressing. He needed to care for his Omega. He needed to be whatever Wade needed from him, just for now. Peter wondered, as he coaxed the man into his lap, if Wade knew that Peter saw him, sins and scars and all, and did not find him wanting.

Chapter 24

Chapter Text

Wade woke up burning, pressed against another body in the dark. His hand darted under a pillow to close around a gun before he was brought to himself enough to realize that he was in his own nest. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the sprawling limbs of the Alpha in his bed, bruises blooming where Wade vaguely recalled gripping him tight in anguished, overwhelmed pleasure. They’d untied and fallen asleep (not necessarily in that order) sometime after their third or fourth round of sex, but Wade was now very, very awake. Crap, when had Wade taken his pants off?

『I think the webslinger got a little too excited earlier. His hands got stuck to them, and you made him rip them so he could get on with things.』

「So accommodating. Time to wake up little Bambi Eyes over there! Get us back on thatknot, yum.」

『You understand that you were ready to shoot Spider-Man just now, right?』

「Yeah, but we didn’t, so it’s fine! What’s a little almost-shooting betweenlovers anyway?」

Wade felt hotter the longer the boxes chattered, tossing and turning restlessly. He missed having someone who understood what he needed without having to tell them.

『Well, Vanessa isn’t here right now, and she isn’t going to be coming for you either.』

“Ness?” Wade mumbled, plucking at his shirt. f*ck, why was he still wearing so much?

「Who the f*ck needs her? Did you forget we have aSpider-Man now? Bet he’d never shoot his own Omega down in the street.』

『Uh-huh. Too bad this sorry excuse for a human beingisn’t Peter’s Omega. Or did you both forget that your precious Spidey is a real person now?』

「Petey, Petey, pretty pretty Petey!」

『I can’t believe you let an Alpha stay here for our heat just because he was Spider-Man.』

「Yeah, but Spidey’s gonna help us, and it’s gonna be so nice.」

Right. Spidey — no wait, his real name was Peter — 

『You’re never going to remember that. Might as well just ask him to put the mask back on. Sure he’d love that.』

「Oooh, that’s a good idea for later.」

『There is no later. There’s just whatever f*cking mess this is right now, and the two of you will be lucky if we keep partnering up long enough to keep our SHIELD contracts after this.』

「Stop being such aspoilsport, buddy, and let’s get on that dick.」

“Need you, Webs. Need you now,” the merc murmured urgently, kissing and licking along the Alpha’s jaw and scent glands to wake him. He could tell his own scent had gotten stronger in the night, musky with heat, but still not quite enough to mask the anxious, acrid sweat he’d woken up in.

His ministrations quickly roused the little hero. “Hm?” Spidey asked blearily as he petted Wade's bare scalp. “Oh, hey. Your heat finally get going all the way?”

Wade nodded, then sat up and swung one leg across the webhead’s naked body to straddle him.

『Already forget Spider-Man’s name again, didn’t you?』

「Spidey’s our Alpha now, who cares?」

『Peter is not our Alpha. He’s just an Alpha who’s convenient and probably won’t do something horrible.』

“Think so, Alpha,” the mercenary admitted, already embarrassed at how needy he was going to be. He tipped forward to brace himself one arm and run his free hand through Peter’s soft hair, grinding his still-clothed dick against the webslinger’s rapidly hardening length. “So loud in my head. Feelin’ antsy. Sorry I had to wake you up.”

Peter moaned appreciatively and slipped his hands below Wade’s long-sleeved shirt to grasp at the man’s hips. “It’s okay, Wade. I’m here. I want to be here. What do you need, hm?” the arachnid requested patiently, sounding fully awake at least. He allowed the older man to continue to rut against him as he spoke, for which Wade was hazily grateful.

“My head is so loud, an’ I started feelin’ trapped in my clothes an’ the blankets. I can feel my heart beatin’ so hard. Panicking,” Wade explained, slurring a little. “Need you, Petey.”

“sh*t, I love hearing you say my name,” the wallcrawler muttered. “All right, I’ve got you, babe. You can relax, okay? I’m here,” he crooned, running his fingers along some of Wade’s more sensitive scars on his face and under his shirt, between the worst patches of skin.

「He likes it? Allow me to play you the song of my people: Spider-Pete, Spider-Pete, f*cks like only a Petey-pie can!」

『Jesus Christ, how are you even worse now? Maybe we can shoot ourselves in the head just to shut you up.』

“I know, clothes don’t feel great sometimes once your heat starts,” Peter said, pulling Wade’s attention back. “What do you mean about your head, Wade?”

“S’loud,” Wade repeated, then groaned, half in frustration and half in enjoyment as he sat up enough to try to wrap his hand around both his co*ck and Peter’s without removing the boxer-briefs he was still wearing.

“Boxes?” the Alpha asked, a line of worry appearing between his brows. Wade nodded. “Well, they need to chill the f*ck out, so I can take care of you and we can all have fun again, don’t they?”

『First of all, how dare he?』

「No, no, Pretty Petey’s got a point.」

『Oh,now you remember his name just fine?』

Wade nodded again, this time seeming more focused and encouraged. “Can’t believe I’ve heard Spider-Man swear so much tonight,” he snorted, seeming the tiniest bit more clear-headed.

“I have done so many swears this evening, Wade.” The webslinger took the opportunity to sit up himself, keeping the merc in his lap. He pulled him down into a close-mouthed kiss that quickly devolved when Wade tentatively pressed his tongue past Peter’s lips. The hero opened his mouth further, letting Wade lick his way past those sharp Alpha fangs to slide their tongues together. He bit Peter’s lower lip, earning a sharp gasp and a deeper kiss like the hero was trying to memorize Wade’s taste.

“Can we take your clothes off now, you think?” prompted Webs. “I think you’re ready, babe. You’ll feel better after, remember?”

「Oooh yeah, hedoes call you “babe.” Well, at least we got one thing right. I kinda like it.」

The Omega sighed defeatedly against his cheek before agreeing. “Just do it already.” He might as well let it happen. He was just so hot and everything hurt, and he needed Peter to make it better.

He straightened up to create space for the spider, who wasted no time in tugging off the mutate’s shirt and pressing their torsos flush. “There we go. Isn’t that nicer?” Peter asked as he slid Wade’s boxer-briefs below the muscled swell of his ass.

『Could be worse.』

“Yeah, fine,” Wade agreed tersely. As much of a relief as it was not to be trapped in clothing any longer, being so exposed in front of the hero he’d had a crush on for literal years without even his face on still felt pretty goddamn awful. His heat-addled brain hadn’t thought that part through. At least it was still mostly dark in his nest.

“Let me get these off you,” the Alpha said as he rolled them over and wiggled Wade’s underwear down his legs. “There we go, pretty boy. Jesus f*ck, I can smell myself on you, babe. I can smell how bad you need it again,” he groaned in a husky voice.

Wade made an embarrassing noise low in his throat and drew up his legs to tuck them under himself. His movement was arrested by slim, strong hands wrapping around his ankles. The hands slid up his shins and then down so they were gripping the insides of his thighs, slowly but insistently parting them.

“Mine,” Peter growled, stupid with either his rut or just garden-variety Alpha possessiveness. Either way, it both soothed and excited Wade’s stupid knot-thot of a heat-brain. His Alpha dipped his head, neglecting Wade’s eager co*ck to dive straight for the glistening slick at its source.

“Oh sh*t,” Wade groaned. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!” He slammed his head back against the pillows as Peter’s tongue circled around his asshole, teasing and testing at his rim. His Alpha flattened his tongue, and the merc tried to grind against before he was held down again and licked clean with broad, hot stripes. He squirmed and wiggled, not sure if he was trying to get away from it or push closer, when Peter shoved his tongue into the slowly-relaxing ring of muscle and started to probe into Wade, f*cking him open with it until he might have been clean of come and slick, but equally slippery and sticky with drool instead.

“So good,” Peter croaked when he came up for air. “f*ck, I could eat you forever.”

“Maybe, maybe you could f*ck me instead,” Wade gasped out. “My co*ck hurts, Alpha. I need to come. Need you to fill me up again. It’s hot,” he said plaintively.

“Oh, babe,” his Alpha soothed. “I’m sorry, Omega. You were such a good boy and let me have you as much as I wanted, didn’t you? C’mon, you get to have a treat for that.”

Peter laid out on his back and pulled Wade into his lap. He guided Wade’s hand behind himself to grip his co*ck and press the tip against Wade’s sloppy hole. “Go ahead, take as much as you want, however you want it.”

“What about you, Alpha?” Wade asked, unable to help himself from slowly impaling himself on the thick, hot shaft.

“Tell me when you’re ready for me to take over.” The sonofabitch honest-to-goodness winked.

Wade sat down hard on the rest of the wide co*ck, loving the burn as he forced himself open on it. As he rocked forward and back, he could feel the fuzziness of his brain receding in favor of pure warmth, but it wasn’t quite enough. He switched up to crouching over his Alpha’s dick and bobbing up and down on it, milking it with his tight insides for all he was worth. “f*ck, it’s not — not enough,” he yelped.

“Want some help, babe?” Spidey asked. Wade nodded frantically. His Alpha took over, slipping his hands under Wade’s thighs and bouncing the big, muscle-bound Omega on his co*ck, using him like nothing more than a pliant, eager co*cksleeve.

“Jesus spidery Christ! How — I can feel your co*ck in my goddamn throat, Pete!”

Peter burst into what might have been full-on giggling if he hadn’t already been panting and half-growling as he kept thrusting into Wade like he couldn’t stop himself. “What! I — What?”

“You f*ckin’ heard me! I didn’t — Oh sh*t! I didn’t say to stop!”

“I’m gonna break you,” Peter snarled — though his eyes still sparkled with mirth, bowling them over so he was on top of the merc. f*ck, how could someone so much smaller than Wade still make him feel so covered, so safe and protected, when he was under him?

“f*ck yeah, whatever you want, Alpha!”

Apparently, that was the right answer because Peter pushed Wade’s knees and curled their bodies up until he could kiss Wade deeply and fiercely. He let them drop back to the mattress without slowing as he f*cked into the merc.

“Can we — Wade — I want to — f*ck, right there! Let me make you feel good, babe. Can I do that? Will you let me take care of you?” Peter managed to ask between gasping kisses to Wade’s chest, the wild mix of sensations making the larger man shudder and gasp. He pistoned his hips relentlessly into the Omega.

“Yeah, yeah! Please, Alpha!” Wade agreed fervidly.

Webs braced himself up on one hand and slipped the other between them to swipe up some slick and wrap around Wade’s dick. He worked Wade’s shaft and swiped his palm across the crown, squeezing it when it seemed like Wade was getting too close too fast.

“Lemme come, Alpha!” Wade whined plaintively. “Please let me come!”

“Not yet, babe,” Spidey grunted. “You’re gonna be too sensitive for me to knot you if you come now. Just wait.” Wade whined again, squirming and trying to f*ck up into his Alpha’s hand, but he only succeeding in tightening his body’s hold on the fat Alpha co*ck inside him, making Webs let out a f*cked-out moan that quite frankly should have been recorded for posterity.

『By posterity, he means so he can jerk off to it later.』

“You’re so good, babe. Such a good boy. You try so hard to be good, don’t you?” Spidey said as he jerked Wade’s dick, running his palm over the head of it until Wade was crying out and arching his back. “You’re being so good for me, Omega. I’m so proud of you. You’re so good. Such a good boy for me all the time.”

Wade felt tears welling in his eyes as Peter kept praising and petting him, dragging him closer and closer to climax with every word and touch. He shook his head violently from side to side, trying to push it away, to deny how it filled him with warmth and relief entirely separate from his desperate need to come.

“Mm-hm, look at how sweet you are, pretty boy. I know you try so hard. I know you’re a good person, Wade. You’re so good, no matter what. I don’t care about anything else you’ve done anymore. Look at how good you can be. Your life has been a nightmare, and you still try so hard to be good.”

Wade was sobbing. He couldn’t catch his breath, chest hitching as he tried to pull away from his Alpha. He barely made it halfway off of the thick co*ck spearing him open before he was grinding back down onto it, crying out as tears made burning tracks down his cheeks and dripped down his chest.

“Aren’t you just the best boy for me? Who’s my good boy, babe? Who’s my good boy, Wade?” Peter pressed. His clever fingers stroked Wade’s length and he settled back with the Omega tight against his chest. “Who’s my good boy, Wade?” he repeated, slowly pushing his expanding knot past the merc’s deliciously-sore rim and into his fever-hot body. “f*ck, do you want to come? You want me to knot right in that tight asshole?”

Wade nodded, trying to push himself onto the fat knot carving a space for itself in his body.

“Then f*cking tell me!” his Alpha snarled.

“Me! Jesus, f*ck! I’m your — Ah, f*cking sh*t! — your good boy!” he yelped. Peter yanked Wade onto his knot the rest of the way and rocked into him, emptying himself with a choked-off moan.

Wade squirmed restlessly, only partially sated himself by the pleased Alpha locked inside him. “Can I please come, Pete?”

“Yeah, babe. Be a good boy and come on my knot.” Peter was almost gentle as he pulled Wade close against him and squeezed his small knot in a firm grip. Along with the knot pressed up against Wade’s prostate, that small amount of stimulation was more than enough.

Wade shook and sobbed as he emptied his balls across Peter’s hand. His hole fluttered, trying to drag every drop of come out of the hero. Peter’s grip around Wade’s torso grew so tight it was hard to breathe, until he thought his ribs might crack with it as the spider drove his knot further into Wade and tried to bring them as tightly together as he could. The movement dragged out the aftershocks of Wade’s org*sm like little lightning bolts up his co*ck and down his spine.

The ex-soldier pressed his face into the pillows and cried, overwhelmed with the pleasurable sensations of Peter’s body against his and the pheromones thick in the air, all conspiring to make him vulnerable and soft and stupid. The Alpha pulled out until his barely-deflated knot was bearing against Wade’s rim from the inside, then kept going, until the merc’s hole was being stretched open again while he was relaxed and pliable post-org*sm.

“No, no, no,” he hiccuped into the fluffy pillow into which he’d smashed his face.

“It’s okay,” his Alpha soothed, stroking Wade’s bald head. “Relax for me, babe. I’m taking it out. You don’t have to keep going.”

“No!” Wade repeated frantically, shoving his ass back into Peter and taking his Alpha’s whole knot again. He rolled his face out of the pillows enough to make teary eye contact with the brunet. “I need it! Please let me keep it.”

The hero ran fingers around the joining of their bodies, heedless of Wade’s sweet, sticky slick between them. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, babe. I thought you needed to be done. You were so good for telling me what you wanted.”

Wade gave his Alpha a tentative smile, barely a flash of fangs, shuddering as he rocked on the hot length inside himself. “Want your come again, Alpha,” he suggested.

“You sure?” Peter’s tone was hesitant, but he hadn’t been able to stop f*cking Wade the entire time

Pfft, was he sure? That was the dumbest goddamn question anyone had ever asked Wade. He wanted to live on Peter’s knot. He wanted Peter to Bond-bite him right now and blow his every load in and on Wade’s body for the rest of his natural-born life. The little doe-eyed Alpha bastard was the best thing to happen to Wade since his terminal cancer diagnosis. Wade would live with being in heat all the time if it meant that Peter would climb into his nest every night and f*ck him into the mattress and tell him he was good.

He could feel more slick gush out of him at the thought. “Just come in me already,” he groaned. “I need it. You said I was good!”

“Okay, pretty boy. Whatever you want.” Peter f*cked into him, once again carving a place for himself inside Wade’s body. “sh*t! You’re so — Christ, you’re so tight around me. I’m already so close again, what the f*ck,” he panted.

Wade only whimpered, already on the edge of tears again. His brain was starting to feel hazy around the edges with the spike of heat that was making him so desperate. “Please knot me, Alpha,” he begged, reaching back to wrap his fingers in Peter’s hair, pulling the Alpha’s face tight to his neck. He felt Peter’s sharp inhale, then a tongue swiped across Wade’s scent gland.

“f*ck!” Peter yelped, and then Wade felt a sudden, sharp pain in his scapula that nearly overshadowed the feeling of the Alpha’s knot expanding that last little bit once more and painting Wade’s insides with hot come.

The merc turned his head to look at his shoulder. Huh. Peter’s fangs were buried deep in the muscle, jaw locked and pupils blown wide and dark with almost-feral arousal. The pair locked wide eyes with one another as Wade’s tight channel continued to milk everything it could from Peter’s co*ck, making them both shudder and moan with prolonged, over-sensitizing pleasure.

sh*t, Wade had almost goaded Peter into biting his scent gland. He wasn’t entirely sure whether to be glad or disappointed that the hero had enough self-control not to do it.

Chapter 25

Chapter Text

Wade’s heat had lasted three glorious days.

「Sonnet-worthy, even.」

『You couldn’t write a sonnet if your death depended on it.』

「Fine, dirty-limerick-worthy, then.」

The days had passed in a daze of brutal f*cking and cozy snuggling in Wade’s little nest. Spidey had been an amazing (spectacular, sensational, superior) Alpha the whole time, bringing him drinks and feeding him snacks, keeping him so distracted with touching and joking and praising that Wade didn’t even really mind being naked in broad daylight.

Now that they’d pulled out of the clouds of their respective heat and rut, sore but sated, Wade expected the hero to make his excuses and bail. Instead, he was settled back in Wade’s nest, massaging the mutate’s quads and hand-feeding him chocolate chip babka he’d gotten delivered from some kosher deli all the way in Queens.

「This is my new favorite heat food.」

“I cleaned the place up some while you were napping. Hope you don’t mind. And I washed my suit in your sink.”

Wade grunted and shrugged against the webslinger’s chest, making grabby hands toward a container of matzo ball soup next to the pastries. Peter obligingly slid a spoon over.

“Hey babe, how about we go take a shower together after you’re done eating?”

『Together? Why would he want to — 』

“I’m done,” the Omega announced, sitting up. He turned wide, soft eyes on the hero, throwing every ounce of the “soft, submissive Omega” dynamic stereotype he could muster in his body into it. “Carry me?”

Amazingly, it worked. Webs laughed, the sound light and free, put the babka down, and scooped Wade up princess-style. “Sure, pretty boy. Let’s go.”

The wallcrawler carried Wade to the bathroom and continued to hold him up in one arm while he turned on the shower. “Clean towels?” he asked, setting Wade upright and brushing their lips lightly together.

“Under the sink,” Wade mumbled. “…probably.”

Peter dutifully grabbed fresh washcloths from below the sink and then tested the water, keeping Wade warm with their bodies pressed against one another until it was the right temperature. “Let me wash you, babe,” he entreated.

Wade was still just tired enough from his heat to allow the Alpha to dote on him. “Whatever floats your boat, Spidey.”

Peter flinched, but that might have been at the loud sound the body wash’s lid snapping open made as it echoed through the shower stall. “I’m just gonna wash up real quick, and then it’s your turn,” he assured. The arachnid grabbed a washcloth and soaped it up, giving himself a perfunctory, if thorough, scrub down while Wade leaned against the soap-scummy tile and watched.

The brunet switched to a fresh cloth when it came time to wash the mutate. He ran the towel in gentle circles across the Omega’s bald head and down his face, across his shoulder and down his arms and torso and back. He herded Wade into the water to rinse the soap off his top half, cupping one hand on his forehead to stop the soapy water from stinging the merc’s eyes.

Then Peter dropped to his knees, squirting more soap onto the cloth. “Gotta get you all clean, babe,” he murmured.

Wade’s dick was already chubbing up just from the gentle manhandling, but Spidey on his knees in front of him again certainly helped in that department. He relaxed into it as Peter ran the cloth down his legs and picked them up one at a time to clean his feet. A soaped-up hand snaked up Wade’s groin, massaging past scent glands and caressing his sack before stroking his co*ck to full hardness.

“Look at you, pretty boy,” his Alpha breathed. Wade’s head dropped back against the tile with a groan. If the hero hadn’t been ready to support his weight, he might have dropped to the ground as well as his knees went weak. The webslinger turned him gently so he was facing the tile, then cleaned up along the backs of his legs to his buttocks with the same efficient caresses given to his front half. Once he reached Wade’s ass, he dropped the cloth and two sudsy hands were massaging the cheeks like so much tender meat, parting them to reveal a hole still glistening with the vestiges of a mix of slick and Peter’s come.

“sh*t, you still smell like me,” Peter said in a cracked, almost awed voice. The fingers of his right hand quested inward, circling Wade’s slick-lubed rim. With the barest pressure, it slipped right in, earning a punched-out moan from the Omega. “Look at you, still so full of me that your asshole is just dripping with my come. You took all of that, didn’t you? You were such a good boy, and you took everything I gave you.”

Wade dropped his forehead to the cool tile, bracing himself and spreading his legs a little so he could arch his back and give his Alpha better access. Peter stretched him further on a second finger, although after the number of times Wade had been f*cked open on his Alpha’s knot over the past days, two fingers was less of a stretch and more of an appetizer. Nonetheless, the spider’s unerring aim for his prostate had him moaning and rocking into the movement of those clever fingers.

Peter pressed his face close to watch his fingers piston in and out of Wade, so close that the merc could feel hot breath ghosting over his hole. His Alpha briefly dug his teeth into the muscle of Wade’s scarred asscheek before speaking again. “Yeah, you were such a good boy for me the whole time,” he said, beginning a litany of non-stop praise in time with his movements. His left hand released its grip on Wade’s ass to reach around and stroke the Omega’s co*ck in synchronization with his pressure on that bundle of nerves, adding another finger to those already stuffed into Wade’s asshole as he did. “You’re so good all the time, Wade. You were so good for me during your heat. Look at you, such a good boy and such a good guy, a good friend. You try so hard when you’re out working with me too, I know you do.”

Wade sobbed out his overwhelmed pleasure, the sound echoing through the tiny room. He’d thought he’d been done crying over Spidey’s stupid praise kink when his heat finished up, but apparently, that had been wrong. He thrust forward into the soap-slicked circle of Peter’s fingers and then worked himself back onto the spider’s other hand, trapped between the two sensations.

Peter just kept talking, damn him, working Wade’s brain over into a pile of happy mush that was too stupid with dopamine and oxytocin to push back against anything he said. “You’ve been trying to be there when I need you since you got here, huh? f*ck everybody else, you’re the only other hero I need in my corner every night. Jesus Christ, look at you, Wade. Such a good f*ckin’ boy for me all the time. C’mon, pretty boy. Be a good boy and come for me one more time.”

“I — I don’t know if I — ” the merc hiccuped.

“You can do it, babe,” his Alpha reassured, and f*ck him if that didn’t work because Wade came almost immediately, a keening noise ripping itself from his throat as his hole tried to milk Peter’s fingers and his co*ck spurted the pathetic amount of seed available after their multi-day sexathon.

As soon as the aftershocks of the mutate’s org*sm passed, Peter was carefully cleaning him up again and rinsing him off. He kissed him thoroughly before shutting off the shower, stepping out and then scooping Wade out before the latter even had the brainpower to check if Peter was even hard, much less able to consider offering to reciprocate the favor (there was no actual consideration needed — having had an extensive sampling, he would happily hop on that Grade A Spider-Boner® at any given opportunity no matter how sore and f*cked out he was).

Peter insisted on toweling Wade off and carrying him back to the bedroom, then pulling out the clothes Wade wanted to wear and handing them to him before he got dressed. Actually, the Alpha had seemed to want to help Wade get dressed as well, but there was a little post-heat care and then there was downright service-top levels of doting. Wade just wasn’t ready for the kind of niceness that went with the latter without more of a negotiation-style conversation.

“Wade, the past few days have been… Gosh. I mean, wow,” Peter chuckled and scrubbed a hand through brown locks, a smile cutting across his face like a sunbeam through clouds. “Thanks. I’ll see you soon, right? I’m sorry I have to go already; I’m just so behind on everything now.”

Wade shrugged, aiming for blasé. “Yeah, I get it. It’s chill. See you on patrol.”

“Um, hey, why don’t I, I mean, you already know who I am — Honestly, I can’t get anyone who knows Peter Parker to take their data privacy seriously because half of them have iPhones anyway and just use iMessage encryption and call it a day — That is — It only makes sense to — ” the brunet dithered.

“Oh my glob, what are you saying?” Wade asked impatiently.

「He’s so cute though!」

『Living proof that a genius-level intellect can still be agrade-A himbo, is what he is.』

“I want to give you my real number! Like, so we can talk about non-Spider-Man, non-Deadpool stuff, and hang out and stuff. Just don’t save it under the same contact!” Peter finally blurted.

“Oh,” said Wade, feeling all hot again for no apparent reason. “Okay, yeah.”

Wade plopped himself right back into his disheveled nest after shutting the window behind a re-suited Spider-Man. “Oh Jesus titty-f*cking Christ, what have I done?” He held his head in his hands.

「He called us prettyso much. And babe.」

『There’s something deeply, seriously wrong with that man.』

“I think we established that when we got like three more levels of tragic backstory outta the guy,” the mutate snorted. And hot damn, that sure was a lot to unpack. Even aside from the fact that Spidey was an Alpha and had hidden it so well, the whole, “Woe is me, I accidentally murdered my girlfriend,” act made it pretty clear that the hero still had some serious baggage over his dead Omega. Not that Wade didn’t have plenty of his own baggage in that department, to be fair.

「Our last Alpha killed us in cold blood a couple of times, he man-slaughtered his last Omega… Talk about his crazy matches our crazy!」

Besides, Wade wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with the whole thing between them exploding into whatever that shared heat had been. f*ck it. He could just not worry about it unless Spidey — 

「Peter, his name is Peter, and he has gorgeous brown hair and sparkly hazel eyes, and he blushed such a pretty pink when we begged for him to breed us, like we might break his precious little vanilla brain. But then he pinned us down and kissed us and f*cked us until we were so full of him that we cried.」

Okay fine, f*ckin’ A, unless Peter mentioned it. That was probably for the best anyway. They were probably never going to talk about it again. Just pretend it never occurred. At best, maybe Peter would casually acknowledge it as something they happened to do once. Yup, just a couple of guys bein’ dudes, a couple of dudes bein’ bros, helping each other out in a tight spot. It couldn’t have meant much to his hero. Certainly not as much as it had meant to Wade. That had been — 

f*ck, that had been everything he’d needed since his first horrible run-in with Copycat, the day he’d learned that a broken Bond could still hurt like a rusty nail to the neocortex if you wanted it back bad enough.

「f*ck Bangladesh.」

『Are you going to act like this is totally chill and not going to affect either one of you? Just a thing that happened this one time? No problems here?』

Wade scowled and pulled the blanket over his head, trying to hold onto the dizzying fragrance of the two of them together still trapped between the sheets, because yeah actually, that was exactly what his plan had been.

「Not happening, ol’ buddy ol’ pal. I’m inL-O-V-E love. I need him.」

『As much as it pains me to say it, they’re kinda on the right track, y’know. He’s been mostly good for us. Do you know how much money you’ve saved by not burning a house down every other month? You know how much you netted for that last SHIELD mission?』

“We’re not doing this right now. Or at all, ever. You know what, speaking of SHIELD? How about we go visit Emily? Maybe she has a nice little coup for us, some counter-terrorism work where we can go indiscriminately explode, like, GOAL or ARES or some of those stupid Zodiac-themed guys.” That sounded like an even better plan.

Chapter 26

Chapter Text

Peter swung his way home from Wade’s nest in a daze. His suit may not have been a mess anymore, but he certainly still was. Before his and Wade’s shared heat and rut cycle, if someone had held Aunt May in a hostage situation and demanded an honest answer, Peter would have firmly rejected the idea of being ready to date anyone seriously again, citing his lackluster response to his picture-perfect date with Debra Whitman as evidence. Heck, he would have sworn up and down that he was still gut-churningly triggered by the scent of heat, and that the idea of playing at nesting Alpha for anyone was downright anxiety attack-inducing. He would have said that there was no way he could handle being with an Omega day in and day out when even a heat-inclined Beta was too much for him sometimes.

Afterward, well… there he was on the other side of three days of the best sex he’d ever had in his life, his knot half-blown just from Wade’s heat scent clinging to his sinuses and the accompanying vivid sense memories. Forget webslinging, the arachnid could have flown home on the sheer euphoria of being someone’s Alpha again, on having such a good, not-so-little Omega under him, taking Peter’s dick so sweetly and letting Peter take care of him and make him feel good.

Taking a circuitous route back to his apartment, Peter was happy to ride along on the serotonin train inspired by musings on the Venn diagram of weird sex stuff he and Wade might have in common if that heat/rut cycle was any indication. Darn it all if the spider didn’t want to live knot-deep in the feverish heat of that man’s brawny, scarred body — perhaps excepting the times he’d let Wade f*ck him instead. Would Wade like that? Would he want to hold Peter down and f*ck him until he blew his Omega knot inside the Alpha’s tighter body, tying them together? Peter almost missed a shot with his webs at the thought, so he firmly reminded his dick to put a pin in that particular idea to ask Wade about later.

Of course, that begged the question as to whether there even was anything to ask the other hero about later. Peter honestly hadn’t been able to help himself with the borderline courting behavior during and after the Omega’s heat. He’d found that the Wade behind the Deadpool mask — and even with the mask on and Deadpool persona firmly in place, if the Alpha was being brutally honest with himself — was sweet and funny and attentive and intelligent, and Peter wanted to sink his teeth into the thick muscle under all those scars in more than just a sexy way.

Peter wasn’t ready to deal with the emotional implications of his sudden desire to be closer with the other hero, to memorize him inside and out. Not that it was so sudden if he were being brutally honest with himself — which he was trying to avoid until he could at least sit down. He had already known he liked Wade but had staunchly refused to entertain the idea that anything between them would work because of their differing morals and penchant for frustrating and disappointing one another. Then, Wade had gone and turned himself into, if not a hero on his own, at least a reliable back-up for one and a trustworthy teammate for any SHIELD agent, if the recounting of his last away mission was anything to go by.

Jesus tap-dancing Christ, get real with yourself, Parker.

Wade’d had a crush on Spider-Man for about five hundred years, and once you stripped away the mask, what was left? There was no way the Omega liked plain old science geek and photographer Peter Parker. Certainly not half as much as he liked the brunet’s confident, brash alter-ego whose embarrassed blushes at his own terrible, idiotic puns were hidden by a full-face mask that let Wade imagine whoever he wanted behind it. Besides, the last thing Peter had done before completely exposing himself told Wade about how he had murdered Gwen, the last Omega unlucky enough to tangle with him. That didn’t exactly inspire confidence in an Alpha, much less thoughts of the more romantic variety. The whole train of thought was one that Peter brought to a screeching halt as soon as it came up, lest it bring him to a complete stop of his own.

His phone — Peter’s phone, not the SpideyPhone — was buzzing with notifications when he alighted on a roof to get ahold of himself. He’d missed two calls from Aunt May, a half-dozen texts from MJ, and even one from Debra, the last of which he noticed with a guilty wince. He’d also, strangely enough, missed a call from Ben Grimm. He skipped through his voicemails from May, texting her to let her know that something personal, but good, had come up and that he would give her a call soon. Then, he listened to Ben’s message.

“Peter, it’s Ben. Check your phone. Sue needs you to call her back.” The message was terse, the Thing’s tone clipped and Bronx accent thick like it only was when he was anxious. “And visit me next time you come over, Shpin-Tattele. I thought we were pals. I know you’ve been busy with this whole thing, but if you don’t make time for family, you’re gonna wear yourself out.”

The young hero scowled briefly. He had been protesting Ben’s nickname for him since he actually was a spider-kid, and that was nearly a decade ago. Still, Grimm had sounded even more concerned than his usual bumbling, worrywart self. Maybe Peter should check in with Doctor Storm, just in case.

He pulled out his SpideyPhone, wondering why he hadn’t seen any of Sue’s many messages. He got his answer when he pressed the home button and nothing happened. At some point during his rut, he’d let his civilian phone get dangerously low on power (to be fair that was anything under about 28%, for Peter), and the SpideyPhone had outright died. So much for that much-lauded StarkTech battery life.

At least he had an external battery and some short charging cords in his utility belt, even if it would only be enough juice to get his phones up to about a half charge each, maybe three-quarters of a charge if he dedicated it to the SpideyPhone. He plugged that device in to charge and sat down on an industrial a/c unit to respond properly to May and MJ on his own phone.

He really should have had the presence of mind to at least message Aunt May. Instead, he went straight to being a big, dumb Alpha who forgot that phones existed just because he was dick-deep in the best Omega ever. He shook his limbs out, unsettled and anxious by everything he’d put off for his rut and everything that was now up in the air. Not the time, Parker.

May had sent him a couple of texts every day, but she had sounded only slightly more concerned about him than usual in her voicemail. Peter estimated that meant she was about five minutes from putting his face onto milk cartons. At least she’d be an easier call than Mary Jane, who actually knew what Peter was up to behind their backs and would invariably have some pointed questions to sling at him. May first, it was.

She answered the phone on its first ring. “Peter? Where on Earth have you been, young man? You’ve had an old lady so worried!” Her words came out in a rush, her voice pitching higher and higher with concern as she spoke.

“Sorry, Aunt May,” Peter said as he scrubbed his free hand across the top of his mask, forgetting that his hair was tucked away. “I, um, well, you see, I was just…” He trailed off. What was he supposed to say to her? Like heck was he going to tell the truth on this one.

“You were what?” she asked sharply.

“I was taking care of my friend during his heat,” he said in a rush, then smacked himself in the forehead.

May’s tone immediately softened. “Oh, of course, you, of all people, would lose track of time watching over someone, dear. And I’ll bet you forgot your phone charger at home, knowing you. Here I was all tied up in knots, and you were just being a good friend. Well, I hope you got plenty of homework done while you were playing guard and caterer!”

“No! I was — ” On second thought, why get ahead of himself when he hardly knew if he’d even get a first date out of Wade? “I mean, I didn’t get as much as I would have liked, you know? I’m sorry I worried you.”

“You’ll just have to visit me soon to make up for it,” she replied loftily.

“Of course, Aunt May,” Peter agreed. Their conversation wrapped up quickly, and he steeled himself to call Mary Jane.

“Hey, Red,” he greeted when she picked up the phone.

“Oh, ‘hey, Red,’ that’s all I get from you after freaking out that some new supervillain has crushed you under a building in, in Jersey or something! What the hell, Pete?”

The hero winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Okay, slow down. First of all, Jersey?”

“Shut up! You disappeared for three days. Go call May!”

“I called her first! The hero gig made me flaky, not stupid,” he protested.

“Says you,” MJ muttered. “Fine. What the hell took you off the grid for so long, if it wasn’t digging yourself out from under two tons of concrete?”

“Yeah, about that. Yes, I have an extremely good and normal reason for it. Definitely, one hundred percent,” Peter said. “Okay, so, um, about that guy I’ve been teaming up with?”

“Your big, red leather daddy?”

Peter could feel his face get hot under the mask at that. “Why do you have to call him that?”

“Because I feed on your suffering and live vicariously through your sheer dumbassery, next question.”

“Okay, well, turns out I did just have no chemistry with Deb after all.”

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t, did you? You did!” she cackled. “So how was he? What, did you go spend his rut with him or something?”

“Or something,” he agreed faintly. “His, uh, his heat sent me into a rut. I’ve been spending a lot of time at his place, and I just wasn’t thinking about it like a nest, y’know? It, um — Well, we were both a little surprised.”

“Oh, this is just mwah, chef’s kiss, delicious, amazing, spectacular,” MJ hooted through continued laughter. “Brown Eyes, you are so smart, but darn it if you aren’t also so dumb.”

“Hey!”

“You precious cinnamon bun, oh lord,” she snickered. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it?” he repeated.

“Well, I imagine you won’t be going on that second date with poor Debra. It’s only polite to let her know. When do we get to meet leather daddy?”

“His name is Wade!” Peter finally exclaimed in exasperation. He continued, ignoring MJ’s triumphant interjection. “And never! I don’t know. It was just a heat. I don’t know if there’s much there to make anything happen.”

“I thought you said this guy had a huge crush on Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, keyword there being Spider-Man.”

“You are Spider-Man!”

“No, I’m Peter.” There he was getting on Wade’s ass about only referring to his arachnid alter-ego through a secure line when MJ was just blabbing it in front of both their FBI agents.

“You’re an idiot,” she said. It was Peter’s turn to laugh, his spike of anxiety temporarily diffused. “I think it’s safe to say he has a crush on all of you if you gave it to him like only a spider can.”

The crack in the young hero’s façade broke further. He dissolved into helpless giggles, quickly joined by Mary Jane. “We’re so dumb,” he said once he’d recovered.

“But at least we’re pretty. For real though, I’m glad you got things sorted out with your boy. I take it that means you haven’t been doing much in the way of Goblin investigation, then?”

“I tried to track the funding and whoever was using Harry’s codes after I went to see Sue earlier this week, but I got so tangled up in shell companies and firewalls that it was a dead-end. She hasn’t found anything either, last I heard. I managed to track the IP out east to Long Island, but I couldn't link the location to any new construction permits.”

“Well, who says it’s new construction?”

Peter masked himself in the forehead. “I’m such an idiot! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“Exhibit B for Spidey-Sense being no substitute for common sense.”

“Okay, I deserved that, but it still hurts.”

MJ huffed into the phone, disbelieving.

“I think I have a couple of ideas for where to dig next, at least. Anything else I missed while I was busy?”

“I visited Harry again. He asked about you. I think he expected you to show up with me.” Mary-Jane’s voice was gentler now. “One of his doctors came to visit while I was there. Seemed real optimistic about Har’s recovery rate. Harry mentioned something about an outpatient office in Lennox Hill, so it seems like he’ll be in good hands once he’s ready to leave. Actually, his doc seemed a little surprised that you didn’t come with.”

“That’s, um, that’s good,” Peter said. “I should — I’ll visit him soon.”

“I’m going back with Flash in a couple of weeks. You should come with us.”

“I will,” he promised, actually meaning it for once. “Talk to you later, Red.”

“Keep me updated, okay? I can visit Har again if you need me. Bye, Pete.”

He was glad that MJ had made a habit of calling on their friend so often, making his own stays less remarkable. He was a little surprised that he’d been remembered after only a couple of visits, but something about that place gave him the heebie-jeebies anyway, enough to set his Spidey-Sense off for no apparent reason. Maybe Harry wasn’t as cured as they all thought.

His SpideyPhone made a noise as it finally powered up and was immediately inundated by voicemails, interrupting his musings. He played Doctor Storm’s first message.

“Heya, Spidey. Come by when you have some time, okay? I have a couple of ideas I want to run by you. No rush. See you around!” Well, that hadn’t sounded particularly urgent. Certainly, no reason for him to end up with another half dozen messages from the FF.

He checked the most recent message, which was, oddly, from Reed rather than Sue. “Hi there, sport. Susan asked me to try you again before we’re out of range. She’s a bit busy keeping our visitor contained until we make it out closer to the thing’s point of origin. Fascinating stuff, from my limited capacity in assisting with xenobiology. I’ll tell you something, never let reporters into your working lab, bud. Next thing you know, some idiot from San Francisco will be oozing black goo and yelling about how your black goo is a war criminal, and instead of just taking your new alien friend home, you’re off to save the Earth from some new nightmare. Every time, I tell you!”

Reed’s distracted rant paused, and Peter could make out muffled speech in the background. “Yes, right. Susan says to let you know that she sent you a list of researchers she’s found who might be involved with this project of yours. Something about a treatment research facility in Long Island. If there’s a real connection rather than just a coincidence, we’re very confident that you’ll be able to handle it. If you do need us, we should be back in a jiffy! Oh dear, that looks — Got to run!”

The message was cut off there.

The Long Island connection confirmed what Peter had pieced together from his digging. He felt like there was a connection on the metaphorical tip of his tongue, just like during his conversation with MJ. Well, whatever Sue had sent him, he needed to sit down properly at his desk to get to work on it anyway. First, he needed to get home and preferably email his professors about his rut absence. Then he could go about his more pressing spider-business.

Peter’s Spidey-Sense tingled as he approached his building, but he couldn’t find any reason as to why. Wade wasn’t in any shape to follow him, and he’d have noticed him by now if the man felt he had to hide for some reason. Even if he had been following Peter, he wouldn’t have registered as a danger at this point. The arachnid brushed it off, figuring it was just his anxiety sending his senses into overdrive with all the thoughts racing through his head after the voicemails he’d received from the FF, not to mention after his first rut in years. He’d been nearly as agitated and nervous both times he’d gone to visit Harry, and his Spidey-Sense had gone crazy on him then too.

He walked up all the stairs to his apartment, looking forward to taking off his clothes and the red-and-blue suit underneath, putting on some pajamas, and getting to work on his new leads. The buzz of his Spidey-Sense only grew. It was starting to make his eyes hurt as he walked in the door and kicked his shoes off to the side. The buzz increased as he made his way further into the small living space, searching for whatever must have been out of place enough to set it off.

There, in the middle of his kitchen table — all right, the only table in his apartment — was a folded piece of crisp, white paper. His hair stood on end as he approached the note and opened it, a full-body shiver going up and down his spine and a headache blooming behind his eyes as he read.

Jeez, thesaurus much? This new Goblin was strangely polite and cogent in his wild threats, which was more disturbing in some ways. He re-read the note.

His visits to Harry? Aside from May, MJ, and Wade, all of whom he could cross off for obvious reasons, who had even known about — 

Of course, the goddamn hypnotherapist, Doctor Hamilton. It had been staring in his face the whole time! Peter threw the note angrily to the floor, then immediately bent to retrieve it. He needed to see if that theatrical asshole (Seriously, did the Goblin serum also turn those infected into a theater major?) had left any clues as to his plans.

As he swiped for the paper under the kitchen table, he also saw a round, bronze-colored device duct-taped to the bottom of the table. His movement had activated something in it, making bright green lights in the shape of a jack-o-lantern face switch on.

His Spidey-Sense, which had been screaming steadily louder at him as he read the letter, was now so strong he could barely react through it. Peter frantically ripped the device off the table, ripping the cheap chipboard to pieces, and ran for the alley-facing window, the only one in the apartment that he could jump through. His only hope was to dive through and swing up, get the pumpkin bomb high enough in the air before it exploded and hurt other people in his building.

The hero scrabbled to open the window, the explosive device in his hand likely becoming more dangerous by the second. He didn’t have the time to figure out if it was on a timer or motion-activated, or even remote-detonated by someone watching his building. He practically fell through the window once it was open, webbing across the alley to throw himself into a high arc and throwing the device as high in the air as he could. He furiously shot webs at the explosive as he and it flew upward, encasing it in a protective, pressurizing shell. A small explosion occurred as he tucked and rolled in a sloppy landing on the rooftop across from his building, the blast of the pumpkin bomb successfully contained by the web fluid.

At least he’d still been wearing his suit under his clothes. Peter dug the Spider-Man mask out of his pocket and pulled it on where he was squatting behind an HVAC unit. He shed his civvies and webbed them to the side of the unit in a little ball with some of his longer-lasting webs. That vial still had a decent amount of pressurized web fluid left in it. He was counting that as his good Parker Luck for the day. Well, that and the fact that he’d only destroyed his kitchen table and not his whole apartment.

If his luck could hold out just a little more, he’d be able to dig up some dirt on Hamilton in the good doctor’s East Side office. He started swinging in that direction, mentally reassembling all the data he’d gathered to fit in with this new framework. Hamilton had been able to gain access to Osborn’s information while he was a patient, including cloning his credentials and eventually creating a ghost account. He’d been in a position to learn everything about Harry’s injury in his quest for revenge, so either he’d put the pieces together himself on Peter’s identity or Harry’d somehow told him early in his recovery.

Did hypnotherapy work like that? Peter didn’t think so, but who knew what kind of shanhooligans and nonsense were possible when assholes who didn’t have a problem with human experimentation were the ones in charge. Speaking of, Wellbridge’s addiction research center — which Hamilton had even told Peter to his face was being funded by a donation from Oscorp — was the perfect place to hide both a new dedicated server and the last round of experiments perfecting the Goblin serum over the past months.

If he hadn’t been mid-thwip, the hero would have smacked himself in the head again. The villain had allowed himself to be on Spider-Man’s radar, but he’d managed to avoid engaging with the mutate until now, which meant he must be confident in the newest formula’s ability to take Peter down. Peter was confident that it had driven him just as bonkers as the earlier versions had the Osborns.

He tried to call Wade while he swung. Of course, the jerk didn’t answer when he needed him to do so. Well, if the third Goblin managed to take Peter out, the least he could do was tell Wade who had gotten him. He stopped long enough to hide in a bunch of radio equipment on a roof and shoot off a couple of texts.

He called Johnny, then Ben, then Sue, then finally Reed, one after the other. None of them picked up by the time he’d made it to Midtown, not that he’d really expected them to do so. He tried again, and let Johnny’s phone finally make it to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s cha boy, Johnny Storm! I’m too hot to come to the phone right now. Probably in space or saving the world or something, you know how it is! Leave me a message, and I’ll hit you up when I’m back. Flame on!”

Great. Looked like this was going to be a solo mission after all.

Chapter 27

Chapter Text

“Hey Pres-bot, I have a question.” Wade sat on the edge of Preston’s desk. “Why do you even need a desk, anyway? Wait, that’s not my question.”

“Hi, Wade. Nice to see you too. Oh, I’ve been great, thanks for asking,” the SHIELD agent replied sarcastically without once looking up from whatever she was typing. “And I really appreciated how you let me know ahead of time that you were showing up on the helicarrier instead of just using a bodyslide to materialize inside my office. Just loving the show of conscientiousness.”

「Oh, pish posh. Think nothing of it.」

『Did you miss the part where it said, “Emily replied sarcastically?”』

“Uh-huh, no problem,” Wade said with a wave. “Hey, so how did you know cha boi Shane was, like, the Omega for you?”

Emily looked over at him blankly. “First of all, Shane is a Beta.”

“Oh, worm?”

She sighed. “I’m an Omega, Wade. Or I was. You know what I mean.”

“Great, even better. How’d you know Shane was for sure the future Mister Preston? Like, how’d you know he was right for you and all your Omega goodness?”

“First of all, what the hell kind of sexist question even is that? Because he was a good partner and right for me as a person! It had only as much to do with our dynamics as anything else that makes up the attraction between two people.”

“You two do have some rockin’ chemistry, I’ll give you that,” Wade interjected.

Emily rolled her eyes and continued as if Wade hadn’t spoken.

『So, par for the course. Maybe Parker should start taking advice on handling us from Preston.』

“For goodness sake, the man doesn’t even care that I’m stuck in an LMD!” she said. “Obviously, I made a good choice. Second, why are you, of all people, even asking me this? What did you do?”

“No reason at all whatsoever,” the mercenary said glibly. “So like, totally hypothetically of course, and completely unrelated to my previous question, if I were to start banging a superhero, like say, Iron Fist or something?”

Preston snorted. If a snort could be both suspicious and disbelieving, that one certainly was.

“Don’t laugh, I could bag a Defender! Anyway, would I have to, uh, disclose that to you guys to keep working with you? Do the Avengers have, like, HR paperwork to file if a mask starts banging it out with another mask? Or do I just have to let you know if you try to put me on a job with them? Again, totally hypothetical because I am not banging a superhero of any kind at this juncture. But also if Dazzler asks, hook a merc up. Disco’s ready for its comeback, I can feel it.”

「Smooth.」

“You f*cked Spider-Man, didn’t you?” Preston sounded torn between exhausted and amused.

“Whaaat? Wow, I don’t even know why you would ask that, Em. What a weird question! I mean, what? Like, who even is Spider-Man? I’ve never heard of him. Okay, good talk, bye!” Wade hopped off the table and backed out of the room.

“Wade, you forgot your mission intel.”

The merc scooted forward, snatched the folder, and ran off.

“Scott! Pay up!” he heard from Preston’s office.

Wade decided to take the scenic route home from the SHIELD helicarrier, rather than a regular old bodyslide by one straight back. He hadn’t bothered to look at his mission parameters yet, but he was getting the vibe it was a safe bet that wherever they were going to send him this time didn’t have Taco Tuesdays.

『Aw sonofabitch, here we go.』

「What is the point of existence without Taco Tuesdays?! I simply cannot go on!」

『Yeah, you said that about Spider-Man’s ass for how many months?』

「And eventually we got that, so…」

“Eventually, there will be so many tacos if you shut the f*ck up long enough for us to do this and get paid,” Wade murmured.

Of course, there was an added bonus to the scenic route: he couldn’t take a detour to shoulder-check that jerk-*ff Agent Ward in three different hallways on his way out if he just teleported. He deserved that one for looking at Wade funny anyway. Couldn’t a guy wander the halls while muttered to himself in peace these days?

It was also pretty fun to make sure his hot-wiring skills were in tip-top shape by taking Lola out for a spin. He even dumped all the coins from Coulson’s center console into the parking meter so the poor girl wouldn’t get towed. Looked like Spidey was rubbing off on him in more ways than one.

And what a rub-off, huh? Even if it was only the once, boy howdy had it been a good time. With a few hours and a dozen city blocks space between himself and their little weekend sex-nest, Wade thought that, maybe, while they could have probably talked about it a bit more, it wasn’t the biggest relationship catastrophe to ever befall him. sh*t, it didn’t even rate in the top ten. Maybe not even in the top twenty.

『You gotta stop getting space-married to solve your problems, man.』

Also not an incorrect assertion. Okay, so maybe he could bring the whole thing up, all natural and chill-like, to the wallcrawler the next time they hung out. He could even text him about it, like, super-duper casually.

The merc’s phone rang, interrupting that train of thought. He answered without bothering to check the caller ID. Spider-Pete didn’t do calls, so it was probably just Preston with an update on the mission or a reminder about something he’d forgotten in her office. “Regeneratin’ Degenerate, what’s your favorite color?”

“Wilson,” greeted a voice almost as gravelly as his own. He hadn’t expected to hear from Patch, after weeks of radio silence on both jobs that fit his new requirements and his information request.

“Well, heya, bud. How goes it, eh?”

“Whatever’s got ya so chipper, I don’t wanna know. I’m only callin’ t’let ya know I got a tip on the case ya sent over.”

“And?” Deadpool was all business, which mostly meant staying in that same co*cky, relaxed posture Wade had been in as he waited in line for a street dog, but now twice as alert as the paranoid ex-soldier usually was.

He was suddenly, absolutely certain that the eyes he’d felt as he walked weren’t just those of the usual outside observers of which only the boxes and a few others like the noir duck and that pink, pants-less ninja girl seemed aware. No, there was someone nearby, someone watching from up above. He’d seen it, hadn’t he? A flash of purple, in the alley. Something the wrong shade of green to be natural, glinting from the rooftops.

“Ya still there, Wilson?”

“You got it,!”

“Like I said, ’s’on yer usual FTP. Get yer Weasel t’pull the files for ya iffen ya have trouble. Ain’t no Geek Squad.”

“All right, enough chirpin’! What do I owe ya, a coupla toonies?” This time he laid the Canadian on Letterkenny-thick just to be irritating. Patch hadn’t had whatever terrible accent that was supposed to be the last time they’d spoken either. He must have been more concerned than he let on about one or the other of their lines being tapped.

“I’ll bill yer office,” Patch huffed, then hung up.

Score one for the Canucks! No one out-annoyings Deadpool. What was he doing again? Oh yeah.

“Three hot dogs, please!” he said, handing over a bill in some difficult-to-break denomination. “Keep the change!”

He busied himself with balancing two of the condiment-laden dogs in one hand so he could go to town on the third while he finished his walk home. His phone buzzed with a couple of texts, but he was a little busy with his snack. Whoever it was could wait five damn minutes. Probably weren’t going to be any hot dogs vendors either wherever SHIELD was sending him this time.

Peter’s Spidey-Sense blared at him, and he automatically twisted to the left, dodging the weapon slicing through the air where he’d just been. A wild, sharp cackle bounced off the walls of the steel and glass valley of the boulevard packed with early evening traffic. The uncanny imitation of Norman’s laugh disoriented the hero just long enough for the next bat-shaped blade to cut through the web on which Peter was swinging.

“Hoping for office hours, little spider? I’m afraid I don’t accept walk-ins!” a green-and-purple figure shrieked as it zoomed by the falling hero.

Peter caught himself easily with another web, swinging up to cling to the side of a building for just a moment. Throat dry and head reeling with the sense of deja vu, he wasn’t exactly bringing his A-game as he shouted, “Bold of you to assume I have health insurance!” Yeah, Parker, that’ll strike fear into the hearts of criminals everywhere. “A little early for Halloween, isn’t it, Gobby?” Come on, that wasn’t even a new one. He had to do better than that.

“Oh, but it’s exactly the right time for spring cleaning!” The Goblin threw a flurry of batarangs from his pouch of tricks. This guy wasn’t as clever as Harry or nearly as cruel as Norman, which made Peter feel slightly better about his lamer quips. Look, Peter hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in four days and had been swinging around the city for almost an hour already while trying not to panic about his secret identity being kaput. They couldn’t all be winners.

The young hero leaped away from the building, anchoring himself across the avenue and flinging himself in a wide arc. The blades embedded in the wall where he’d been just moments before. His testing attempts to gum up the new Goblin’s glider with webbing were just as easily evaded. The man was toying with him, testing him out as well.

“I won’t make the same mistake the Osborns did with you, you little brat! They were soft on you.”

Yeah, Norman Osborn had been real soft on Peter. He’d been exercising his kindness and caring as a substitute father figure when he stalked and terrorized him and then threw his girlfriend off a darn bridge.

“Time to take out the trash, Parker!”

This time, it was a pumpkin bomb that detonated as soon as Peter webbed it, the strength of the blast slamming him into a concrete wall. He wasn’t ready for this, not here. He needed a plan. The hero fled.

Seeing the Goblin again had been a nightmare come to life, even knowing that it wasn’t anyone Peter cared about under the mask this time. He couldn’t stop thinking about Aunt May at home, about Harry holed up in that overpriced inpatient suite, and how whatever happened to them would be his fault, if he went up against the green bastard and failed.

The gremlin-faced villain chased him across the city, every taut web as he swung, reminding him of trying to catch Gwen and how he couldn’t slow her down until it was beyond that and she just stopped. Peter found himself panicking like he was nineteen or twenty again, making mistake after stupid mistake until he’d landed amongst some vaguely familiar rooftops.

Almost an hour later, Peter hunkered behind a chimney somewhere not too far from the route he’d taken back to his apartment only that morning, just trying to catch his breath. He had the faintest relief that at least he’d taken the Maggia off the table. At least he only had to deal with Hamilton alone and not along with the allies of a crimelord-in-training.

His hair stood up on further end as danger edged nearer, and he steeled himself.

“What have you done with Harry?” Peter shouted as he dodged another bomb, webbing it up high in the air to explode harmlessly. He latched himself to the edge of the glider with a web, hoping to make his way onto the damn thing but willing to settle for overbalancing it.

“Oh, Mister Osborn will be just fine. You could barely defeat my predecessors, half-mad as they were with their inferior serum,” the Goblin cackled. “They were right about you. You don’t understand what it means to be an Alpha! Do you think you stand a chance against me?”

The hero looked around, desperately trying to orient himself with the neighborhood. Wasn’t he somewhere near Wade’s place? The other hero hadn’t answered any of Peter’s messages, but maybe he was still in the neighborhood. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind a little party-crashing if Peter let him get in on the action.

The Hamilton-Goblin banked sharply and dropped toward the street, forcing Peter to release his hold on the glider to avoid smashing into a city bus. His victory lap was cut short when the wallcrawler simply ran full-tilt along the side of the bus (while sparing a moment to privately hope no one inside got decent enough photos to sell to the Bugle while he was still behind on his own work), pushed off, and used the momentum to slingshot himself off a fire escape and onto the glider for a moment.

Sure, Peter got a little taste of the real-life equivalent of Shocking Grasp for it, but he also learned that the new Gobby had picked up yet another piece of Goblin tech. The electricity wasn’t so bad, now that all his suits were grounded. Hitting the hot dog cart when he fell to the ground was way more painful, not to mention embarrassing. The pedestrians remaining on the street once they’d spotted the pair fighting overhead — which was most of them, considering there were no aliens or weapons of mass destruction immediately apparent — in the immediate vicinity shrieked and dove out of the way.

Peter staggered to his feet, eyes focusing in on bright red combat boots splattered with yellow mustard. Oh.

“Sorry about your shoes,” he groaned. Then he remembered that he’d been trying to get ahold of Wade all day. “You couldn’t answer a text?!”

Chapter 28

Chapter Text

Something very green and purple that looked almost, but not quite, entirely unlike the Hulk buzzed over Wade’s head and made him drop the second half of his last hot dog. A slightly smaller red-and-blue something swung by close behind.

Wade might have been tempted to remain very oblivious to the whole thing until a certain webhead landed on the hot dog vendor from whom he’d just purchased his lunch.

Peter got to his feet with more deliberation than the merc would have expected, mumbling some nonsense apology. How long had he been fighting already?

“You couldn’t answer a text?!” the hero demanded. Ah, that was more like it. Plus, Spidey being disappointed was something Deadpool knew how to handle. Wade didn’t need to worry about how to act around Peter after sharing a heat/rut cycle with the Alpha if the hero was too busy being annoyed with him.

The flying figure circled back around in a lazy figure-eight from a few blocks ahead. Whoever was flying that glider seemed way too co*cky. Who was this guy, new?

“My hands were full! Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” Deadpool defended himself against Peter’s accusation through a mouthful of hot dog, having crammed the last few bites into his face so he could join the party. “So, what’re we workin’ with here? Who am I not unaliving?”

The spiderling pointed the full force of his bug-eyed glare at Deadpool as if to test whether or not he was serious. “You see the guy in the green Halloween mask who went way over the normal cackling quota? Threw me to the ground like forty-five seconds ago?”

“Okay, dumb question. Anything I should know?”

“Does it matter that he’s the last Goblin’s shrink and an Alpha with an inadequately-tested experimental super-soldier serum and also bonkers in Yonkers?”

“We’re in Brownsville,” Deadpool pointed out.

“Then I guess not!”

Deadpool went for a katana, but Spidey stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “I need you to watch my back for me. Can you do that from the roof?” Without waiting for an answer, he had a hand around the Omega’s waist and was pulling him up onto the nearest rooftop as the Goblin drew closer. “Gotta go!” he shouted, then leaped off the roof back onto the glider, where he was met with a horrible, snarling rictus of a face and a blur of motion.

Deadpool itched to jump after him, but, much as he hated to admit it, this wasn’t the kind of fight for which he was best suited. Peter was right, his best shot at helping was to watch his Alpha’s back.

『Man, you love to stick your dick in crazy. I’m pretty sure he just got tazed. Twice.』

「Don’t kinkshame him. Oh — ohmygawd, he trusts us to watch his back!」

f*ck, he totally did. f*cking idiot.

Okay, he had, like… seven guns on him? That sounded like a reasonably Deadpool amount of overkill. One of them had to be a decent mid-to-long-range option. He slapped at his hip and thigh holsters while hoping he had real bullets in a matching caliber inside one of his stupid pouches. He wasn’t going to f*ck around with those stupid rubber bullets with some costumed crazy like he was a regular civilian.

When had he strapped on a Glock 40? What was he planning on doing this morning, using suspected Hydra double agents at the helicarrier as target practice?

『Yeah, that’s literally what you were going to do. Adsit and Pres-bot caught you before you could “prove” that the agents who annoyed you during your last mission were terrorists.』

That sounded plausible. Statistically, at least one of them was probably a double agent anyway.

An unholy shriek from the creature Peter was fighting brought Deadpool’s attention back to more pressing matters. It was clear that this Goblin didn’t have the same physical training that the previous ones did. He struggled to keep his balance on the glider and time his bomb throws and strikes against the spider, even as it was clear when they did meet hand-to-hand that the strength of his blows was enough to rattle the young hero.

He also didn’t seem very confident with the tech he was using. Deadpool recalled Spidey’s descriptions of the bizarre but effective weapons that earlier iterations of the Goblin had used to paralyze crowds or capture and suffocate people on top of the basic pumpkin bombs and razor bats that this Goblin seemed to favor.

Maybe it was simply that Peter suddenly became far more confident after crashing into Deadpool’s turf. He’d been flagging after being chased halfway across the city, but the mercenary was no stranger to the slow, easy way an apex predator shepherded its prey. The fight moved back toward the merc, so he readied his weapon with the first magazine from his pouches that fit. That would have to do it.

Deadpool couldn’t resist a taunt as the pair flew closer, even knowing the Green Goblin most likely couldn’t hear him. “Hey, uggo! Unjolly green! Yeah, you big ugly motherf*cker!” he screamed, waving his arms.

Apparently, that was just enough. The glider dipped too far while banking after Spidey, the Goblin overcorrected on the next turn, and Wade had a shot. “Sayonara, f*ckwad!”

「You mighta gotten a little too co*cky there, champ.」

The bullet missed Gobby himself, but it did clip the flared edge of the glider, making the villain pinwheel frantically as the machine teetered.

『Peter’s not going to like you blowing holes in his bad guys.』

“Shaddap,” Deadpool gritted out as he took aim once more. f*ckin’ wallcrawler made him all soft, and now he didn’t have the kind of weapons on hand to deal with this guy. Christ, he didn’t even carry grenades when he was in the city!

The Goblin obviously didn’t have any such compunctions, and he was emptying his bag of tricks in Spidey’s direction almost as fast as the Alpha could maneuver on his synthetic webs. He’d really gone straight back to fighting the hero, ignoring Wade entirely. How rude. Well, only one way to fix that.

“I said, hey Big Ugly!” the mercenary snarled. This time, his shot hit the mark, slamming into Goblin’s purple-clad shoulder. Too bad that leotard had better armor than most of Spidey’s red-and-blue suit. At that distance, it probably wasn’t even enough to break the skin of the serum-enhanced weirdo. Still, a hit was a hit. “Bingpot!”

The green creature seemed to agree with Deadpool’s assessment, as he finally stopped chasing after Peter long enough to come back around to meet the merc.

“Yeah, come on! You’re not so tough! This is street banter!” Deadpool yelled up at him.

With a howl, the Goblin rocketed down toward the leather-clad mutate with outstretched claws.

Deadpool shifted his weight forward at the last moment, ruining whatever he’d been planning — probably just pushing him off the roof because some people had no imagination. Instead, he let the steel-strong claws impale him in exchange for forcing his way onto the Goblin Glider as it rose back into the air. “Hey, I don’t think you’re my Ooper driver!”

The Goblin twisted his claws in deeper (no one needed really all 20 feet of small intestine anyway) to yank the mutate’s weight and direct the machine as best he could with its unwieldy new passenger. Sharp teeth — so many that it was unsettling to look at even for a regenerating and adventurous degenerate like Deadpool — gnashed in the merc’s face as the villain taunted, “You short-sighted fool! Trading in your career to follow that pathetic failed Alpha?”

“On the other hand, his comedic timing is impeccable!” Deadpool said as he flipped the Glock in his grip into its secondary configuration as an improvised club.

The webhead, having finally caught up to them, rappelling from a fire escape to smash fist-first into Gobby’s head.

Deadpool got one good swing in with the pistol grip as he yelled “Get it? Because he dropped in on a punch-line?” He was shaken from the Goblin’s grasp by the creature’s tussle with the hero, then he was falling directly onto the commercial a/c unit on the second-story rooftop below. Worth it.

The mutate staggered to his feet in time to watch Peter exchange a few more blows with Gobby. The winded supervillain scooped another bomb out of his little bag, but instead of aiming it at the spiderling, he tossed it straight for Deadpool’s roof. Well, nothing to it but to grab the damn thing. Webs would be disappointed if the merc let a grenade do major property damage and injure a bunch of civilians.

He snatched the beeping white device out of the air, tucking and rolling with it in preparation to toss it right back in the Goblin’s direction. However, the grenade was already letting out a white fog. Deadpool dropped it and tried to clear the area. He stumbled and landed hard on his ass, his feet tangled in some kind of netting. Instead of spreading across the rooftop, the fog was thick around him in a condensing cloud that made it difficult to breathe. With every effort to kick his feet free and rise, the net seemed to shrink tighter and the air grew thicker, making him choke and gasp.

As if from underwater, the merc heard the sounds of the fight, though he couldn’t make out exactly what was happening through the fog. “Looks like your friend didn’t like my surprise,” the Goblin cackled from above. “Too bad for — ” A nasty crack resounded, and the rest of his words petered out in a gurgle.

There was a thud on the rooftop near Deadpool. The merc slumped over to his side on the ground, chest heaving as his lungs tried to pull oxygen from the strange, heavy fog.

“You were supposed to distract him, not show off your erotic asphyixiation kink!” scolded Spidey’s voice.

「Aww, I think he was worried about us.」

The arachnid-powered hero hadn’t even been separated from the Omega mutate for a full twelve hours, but here he was being a dumbass Alpha, tension seeping out of his shoulders despite the hours of webslinging just because Wade was right there. Maybe it was foolish, that something that should have been so small made such a difference. That was future-Peter’s problem.

Now, all that mattered was that having the other hero at his back, someone who he’d already had to trust with the mortifying details of his own private life, helped him get out of his darn head and back into the fight. Even with bullets flying everywhere on top of all the darn pumpkins and razor bats, everything suddenly felt half as difficult.

Once Peter was working as part of a team again, it was painfully obvious that Hamilton was a joke compared to either Osborn; he was still learning his strength and uncomfortable with taking the glider to the heights it could reach, preferring to keep on level with the lower rooftops in this neighborhood instead of goading Peter up toward the highest buildings or back toward the city center.

The hero realized much of this in a flash as he scooped Wade from the low rooftop and tore open the vacuum-sealed fog of the “ghost.”

“Stay on the roof this time! And be careful, pal!” he scolded, swinging to a higher rooftop onto which he could deposit the other hero.

“I didn’t do that on purpose! Not everything I do is to annoy you!” Wade shot back as he dropped to the roof and caught his balance. “Only most of it,” he added.

Before he had time to reply, Peter’s Spidey-Sense gave a zing to warn him of another flurry of mechanical bats that he whirled to dispatch with clots of webbing. His gaze flicked back to Wade as he leaped onto the parapet, sinking into a ready crouch as Hamilton-Goblin circled in a lazy figure-eight down the block.

“Get ready!” he called back to the other hero before bouncing back into the fray. He could finally see just how to goad the doctor into chasing him past Wade once more, close enough that the other could actually get in a good shot at the glider instead of at Goblin.

Peter was ready for the next pumpkin bomb pulled from that hateful bag of tricks, swinging into its path to snatch it from the air and throw it right back to its owner. He vaulted off the roof as he did, then began to swing toward the villain.

The Goblin veered sharply out of his intended path with a howl, dodging the returned pumpkin. He threw another bomb, and one more as soon as Peter webbed the first into the air to detonate safely. The spiderling’s easy handling of his weapons seemed to enrage the creature, especially after Deadpool came out of his ghost grenade encounter no worse for wear.

“What’s the matter, Gobby? I thought you wanted to play!” taunted Peter, shooting web bombs of his own and forcing the villain to dodge them. A couple finally hit the mark as he flew by, exploding across the Goblin’s bag of tricks and hopefully making everything inside unusable even if he could tear it open.

“You worthless brat!” Hamilton screeched. “You’re a goddamn child!” The glider’s engine whined as it sped up, chasing after Peter no matter how he zigged and zagged.

Now all the webslinger had to do was not pull a Norman Osborn before he could get past Wade’s rooftop again. He dove between the rails of a fire escape, slingshotting himself across the street to push off a projecting cornice and down another half-block, practically flying himself. He spared a last glance behind, not daring to look up toward the red-and-black figure taking aim up ahead.

Come on, just a little further…

“Yeah, but it could be worse! I could be you!” Peter yelled back, making Hamilton yell again and fumble with the web-coated bag of tricks as the glider surged after the wallcrawler. Peter thwipped past his goal, and the villain followed.

Wade took three rapid-fire shots, busting the Goblin Glider’s exhaust port and then taking advantage of the damage to knock out the thrusters. The machine sputtered and began its rapid descent.

“Hey Doc, I thought you didn’t take drop-ins!” Peter shouted gleefully, kicking off the side of an apartment building and angling himself to snatch the Goblin right out of the air from overhead. He let the glider fall to the pavement, hoping people had the sense to move away in exactly the way they hadn’t when the hero had crashed into the hot dog cart earlier.

One strand of web shot out to wrap around the green villain as they fell, then another. It seemed he might simply tear through the first, but a few more quick shots had him firmly cocooned. The wallcrawler swooped down to scoop up his Halloween-themed package before it could hit the ground.

He perched on a traffic light with the wriggling creature, who seemed determined to escape despite his immobility. Peter shrugged, then let him fall for a moment.

“You horrible little — ” the Goblin snarled.

Peter shot a web over his mouth with one hand and caught the cocoon with the other web-shooter, suspending it from the lamppost. “Now Gobby, watch your language! There are kids around!”

As if to prove his point, a few teenagers nearby clearly started filming some sort of live internet feed. Peter certainly wasn’t going to pretend to be hip enough to know which platform it was.

“Now you stay there while I fill out the insurance forms for your glider,” Peter instructed the Hamilton-Goblin with a wave of his finger. The creature’s muffled shouts and the slow-spinning bundle were enough to make Peter very glad that his mask covered the unheroic glee spread across his face.

Wade made it down to street level while Peter was picking up the pieces of the glider and shooing off pedestrians. “Did I miss anything?” he asked as he jogged up.

“I think that guy just stole a piece of patented Oscorp technology,” Peter sighed, pointing in the general direction of the man before returning to his task.

By the time he looked up again, Wade had returned with that and three other pieces he’d noticed people wander off with. That, of course, had Peter cooing and dying to praise him, which he only barely managed to hold back. “Thanks, Wade,” he said, voice slightly strangled.

“No problem, Spidey!” the Omega responded. “Y’know, I thought your rogues gallery was supposed to be way tougher than that.”

“To be fair, the first Goblin killed my girlfriend and the last one almost killed me.” What the f*ck, Parker.

“Huh, morbid. But, like, almost funny. See, this is why I gotta stick around, Webs. How am I supposed to go out on these SHIELD contracts when I need to stay here and workshop your jokes with you?” The corners of the other hero’s lenses crinkled like he was smiling.

Oh, this was real flirting, wasn’t it? That definitely felt like more than generic Deadpool flirting. Either way, Peter wasn’t complaining.

“Oh, you know me, I’ll take all the help I can get… from you,” he chuckled as he webbed the glider wreckage into a sticky lump for transport. Score one for bug boy.

“Well, how about this — ”

Before he could find out exactly what Wade was planning on proposing, the sirens and heavy trucks finally sounded off in the distance. “Ugh, of course,” Peter muttered. He glanced over at the leather-clad Omega. “I’ll handle the narcs if you promise to stick around for a minute?”

“I could probably do that.” Wade managed to make it sound like he was doing Peter a favor.

To be fair, he was doing Peter a favor. Maybe he’d be able to scarper without too much trouble if he had the supposedly-SHIELD-licensed merc-turned-hero being all menacing at his back.

Peter extricated himself from the conversation with the National Guard contingent who’d finally showed up once Hamilton and his second-rate glider were webbed to a traffic light after enough facetime with the military-industrial complex to last him the rest of the year. It had taken a very long time to get one of the FF on the phone to confirm that Peter needed to bring the new Goblin to them for medical treatment before he could be handed over. He’d almost given up and tried to get ahold of the A-words instead, but Crystal had finally picked up Johnny’s phone and managed to relay the whole situation to the stuffy black suit who was trying to drag Peter and Hamilton along to some black-box site, including something that sounded pretty made-up but made the person stiffen and pale before becoming quite a bit more polite, so Peter wasn’t complaining too much. He decided he really liked Crystal.

The wallcrawler eventually found Wade hunched over on a fire escape holding his side closed while it finished healing. That explained why the younger hero’s conversation with the military folks had taken even longer than usual — all that property damage, and he didn’t even have Doombots to use as an excuse.

“Hey, Wade?”

“Yeah?”

“I know this is a little backward, but do you want to, like, go out later?”

“Pete, I just told you that I’m working. We can hang out when I get back though, okay?”

“No, no, ugh. I’m the flipping worst at this.” Peter scrubbed across the top of his mask awkwardly and rubbed his neck as if after a particularly intense tingle of Spidey-Sense. “When you get back from your job, would you like to go on a date? With me?”

Wade seemed to short-circuit for a second before finally answering.

“Really? A date with Spider-Man?”

That was one way to derail Peter’s mushy train of thought. It was exactly what he had been afraid of. Might as well get this out of the way quickly then, so he could go home to patch his leg and finish up those chemistry midterms he still had to grade.

“All right, uh, bear with me here. Maybe this is a dumb question because you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel about Spider-Man.” He cleared his throat. His cheeks were burning, and he was glad he hadn’t freed himself from the mask yet. Wade hadn’t either, and the round, white eyes of the Deadpool mask were boring into him as the other man stood there, suddenly tense. “Do you… Are you interested in Spidey, or are you interested in me?”

“Uh, dude? I don’t know how to tell you this, but you are Spider-Man,” Wade said in confusion.

“Well, yeah, obviously, but I need to know what you’re looking for here. Because I can’t be Spider-Man all the time, and I will disappoint you. If you want him, then our relationship can’t change, and I’m sorry.” The eyes of Wade’s mask widened in understanding and his shoulders drooped as Peter continued. “I, uh, don’t do casual stuff super well, and I don’t want to set you up for disappointment, so I just thought I’d get that out of the way. But if you like, y’know, me…”

“Of course I like you, Peter. Spider-Man is my unproblematic fave, but you’re, well, you’re real and you’re amazing and you’re important to me,” Wade blurted in a rush. “Also you’re a f*cking idiot, which I guess is my kink now.”

“Oh, good. Okay. Cool. Then we should go on a date when you’re back,” Peter said, managing to keep his voice even despite the butterflies in his stomach.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes. Or I wouldn’t have asked. I trust you. I like spending time with you. I think we work really well together. And, um, I really liked f*cking you.” Peter was sure his blush was obvious even on the limited part of his cheeks visible with his mask partially rolled up, but it couldn’t be helped. “I would like it if you thought about it. Stay safe on your mission. Come home soon.”

On impulse, Peter wrapped his arms around the broad-chested mutate in a brief but tight embrace before stepping back and rolling his mask back down. He dove off the roof and swung away with a jaunty wave, heart hammering in his chest.

He was absolutely not having any other strange reactions. For example, an inability to think about anything but how being pressed up against Wade again felt and making the larger man come repeatedly on his knot while he dug his teeth into the merc until he screamed. Nope.

Chapter 29

Chapter Text

Peter swung up onto the roof where he usually took a break part-way through his Thursday evening patrol. Things had finally gone back to normal after the past few months of joint patrols and looking over his shoulder for the Green Goblin — who was himself safely ensconced in the medical wing of the Baxter Building under heavy security.

Since Wade had bugged off for his SHIELD op right after the whole Goblin thing went down, Peter had even had the time to visit Harry a few times with Flash and Mary Jane. That had been far from perfect, but it had seemed to go… better, now that the younger Osborn wasn’t being actively manipulated by someone with a clear villainous agenda. Peter hadn’t even had to disappear in the middle of his last visit to hunt down any more of Hamilton’s accomplices or secret back-up drives or anything. It was nice to have a normal schedule and see his friends again.

He was already planning out his homework schedule for the weekend and trying to fit in time for at least a video call with Flash, whose last night before returning to active duty Peter had to miss in favor of grading pop quizzes (read: Electro had broken out of The Raft). At least Deb had been gracious about the letdown after their date, and things went back to normal between them fairly quickly.

The wallcrawler wondered how he might stretch his leftovers from his last visit to Aunt May’s for another couple of days as he settled onto the parapet like a rather small gargoyle. Something around here smelled good, and he was starving.

A scuffling noise to his left had him leaping backward instinctively, although his Spidey-Sense wasn’t tingling with any warning at all. A hulking, red-and-black figure emerged from the shadows with arms held up and open palms out.

“Hey, hey, Spidey-Butt. Just me!” the figure called out. “C’mere, I got something for ya.” Peter grinned and bounded forward to where the man was standing.

“Wade! You’re home early!” he cried, reaching out for the leather-clad hero before skidding to a sudden, embarrassed halt a couple of feet away. They had messaged a little bit while Wade was gone, true, but they hadn’t discussed those few days holed up in Wade’s apartment since the fight with Hamilton. Nor had either of them broached the topic of Peter’s more serious proposition, which he’d offered just before Wade’s mission.

Without any sort of concrete response, it probably wasn’t appropriate to suddenly start touching the other man anywhere near as much as Peter wanted to. That went double if he was considering how careful they had previously been to uphold physical boundaries when neither of them had had the plausible deniability of exhaustion and physical trauma, no matter how much he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Wade. The train of perfectly rational thought didn’t make Peter’s fingers itch to grab the merc any less.

“Heh, sorry, I’m kind of sh*tty at this or whatever.” Wade laughed weakly and gestured at a stack of steaming takeout boxes, chopsticks, napkins, and a small pile of fortune cookies near the ledge where they’d met up several times during Peter’s regular Spider-Man patrols. “What kind of idiot Omega goes full Alpha courting behavior and brings a bunch of food and stuff to a super smart, badass Alpha like you, Petey? Bad Deadpool, so du — ”

Peter pounced. His weight alone probably shouldn’t have knocked Wade over, but combined with the speed and force of the move, it took the man by surprise, if his sudden shriek and flailing limbs were anything to go by. That worked for Peter’s purpose, aggressively halting the negative spiral the other hero was on the verge of and shocking him into a silence that was hopefully more receptive to a little active listening.

By the time they landed on the rooftop gravel next to the neatly laid out containers of food, Peter had twisted them around so he had Wade’s head cradled carefully in one arm; his other arm and one knee were pinning Wade to the ground by the other man’s shoulder and thigh.

“Well, not to be a sh*tty Alpha, but I’m halfway through a pretty taxing and expensive Ph.D. program, and it’s really hard to be Spider-Man and hold down a normal job. So what with the super metabolism, I love when my Omega shows up in the middle of my patrol with food when I’m already starving and I know I still have tons of work to do when I finally get home in a few hours. Now come here so I can feed this tasty food you’ve been so good at providing to both of us,” Peter said in a breathless rush.

He sat up out of his crouch without waiting for a response, pulling Wade off the ground and in between his legs, arranging the Omega so he leaned against Peter’s chest. He pulled up his own mask to his nose and reached for one of the steaming takeout containers with one hand, wrapping his other arm around Wade. He had his hand half raised to the seam between Wade’s suit and mask before he realized what he was doing and abruptly froze.

Again, the two of them still hadn’t really talked about their feelings for one another, such as they might be. Even calling the dim sum a “courting gift” hardly counted as a confirmation of anything. Beyond that, Peter had done it again, manhandling the other hero and being so casually, instantly possessive and dominant in a way that he should have known better than to do when they hadn’t properly established what they were, especially with a traumatized Omega who mostly didn’t like Alphas in the first place. Even with his scent-blockers and filters on, Wade still knew Peter was an Alpha now, and — 

“Petey?” Wade asked tentatively, tilting his head to one side to get a better view of Peter’s partially-masked face. He wiggled back a little to get closer to Peter and leaned back against the hero’s blue-and-red-clad chest, and this… Peter hadn’t expected whatever this was. He’d thought they had a lot more to talk through before he would let himself have this, before Wade would let him have this. Instead, here the man was completely relaxed against Peter, legs splayed between Peter’s thighs and shoulders lax as he rested his weight against the Alpha.

“I’ll be good, Webs. Wanna be good for you. Missed you.” Even Wade’s voice sounded relaxed, softer than usual, and slurred with exhaustion and proximity to his Alpha. The older hero pushed up his mask enough to free his mouth and gently tugged Peter’s arm back around his torso. “Thought you were gonna feed me some of that dim sum, big boy?”

Wade had spent the entire dumb, “absolutely no fatalities, Wade, I’m serious” mission in Bangla-f*cking-desh of all sh*t-f*cking places chattering through his earpiece at Preston about how he was carnally associated with a superhero now, and maybe even officially associated, so maybe they should let him ditch the other operatives and just finish up the mission his own so he could go home already, “because clearly, I’m a good guy now.”

Preston probably would have been more open to a discussion if, three days in, one of the SHIELD agents he was stuck with hadn’t asked within his hearing what hero was dumb enough and desperate enough to shack up with Deadpool. The kid had maybegotten the teensiest bit stabbed as a result.

『Just a smidge.』

「Very stabbed. Nobody talks about our Webs like that.」

Anyway, after the mission had finally wrapped up, Deadpool had spent the entire QuinJet ride pacing and practically ran off the plane once it touched down at the SHIELD base. If he got home fast enough, he’d be able to shower and change into a fresh suit in time to meet up with Petey for patrol.

He’d only managed to talk himself into that instead of heading straight out to meet the wallcrawler because cleaning up meant he also had time to order food from that place down the street that he knew his Alpha loved. The idiot was always accidentally starving himself, stretched too thin between school and spider-duties and not making enough money with his dumb selfies that he sold to the Bugle because he clearly had self-esteem issues.

It was nice to show up to patrol feeling like Wade instead of Deadpool despite the suit, to be able to surprise Peter with a straightforward gesture that said that he wanted to be there with him. That he was ready to try whatever this was, even if it was going to be a disaster.

He settled into Peter’s lap, easy as anything, probably digging his shoulder a little into the spider emblem on the younger man’s chest as he made a place for himself. He was a lot bigger than Spidey, but the guy had no trouble holding up his broader form and didn’t seem to have any objections to the difference in their sizes. Something in Wade that had been tense since he left for Bangladesh released once he was snuggled up to Peter, being hand-fed soup dumplings like the cheesiest, most stereotypically soft, idiot Omega. Even when the broth burned his mouth a little bit.

“Ow, sh*t!”

“I’m sorry! Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!”

Wade couldn’t help but laugh, and it wasn’t perfect or easy or enough to wipe away everything that had happened to him or happened between them. But it was good. “Hey, Pete?”

“Hmm?”

“This is nice. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, you weirdo. I’m sorry I smushed a whole dumpling in your mouth and burned your tongue.” Peter nuzzled his bare chin against the top of Wade’s mask. He was going to smell like his spider for days.

“It’s fine. All better, see?” He stuck out his tongue. “Hey, Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m gonna stay in New York for a while.”

Peter let out a deep sigh, slumping over top of Wade. “I think I’d like that.”