Chapter Text
Feelings were messy. Unpredictable.
That is why Peter always preferred sciences. Engineering was straightforward. Rooted in indisputable facts of geometry and physics. Clear definitions. He enjoyed creating pieces with photography, the editing process, and crafting upgrades for his suit. Artistry coming out at the right angles.
Love was like a technical error. No formula to fix the issues that always arose.
Work-life balance is a struggle even when you are not a friendly neighborhood vigilante. The ones he gave his affections to always wanted Peter. Or Spider-Man. Keeping his two lives separate was for their benefit. To protect them. Him too. Even if it was detrimental to those he held dear.
Another long night. Another fight. Another sleepless night in the small room he called home. Alone. Even though Peter was exhausted, he could not sleep. Contemplating his failing relationship. Again. He ruminated the declarations of missing important milestones. Rehashing all the times she had been in danger because of Spider-Man. Unintentionally, of course. Spider-Man got in the way of Peter being the partner she needed.
She was right. He regretted all the times he was absent. Made her worry. Then angry. It was making him lose his mind, becoming helpless to the spiral he was creating.
The end was coming, as it had so many times before, but this one was bad. It was going to be hard to come back from it. If ever. What would be the point, anyway? It was not like it would not kill him, even if it felt like it.
Peter scooped away a layer of cream from the pint. Curled against a vent on a low perch, the bustling of the city below him paying no mind to his sorrows. Lifting the mask just above his nose for bites. Occasionally, plopping a spoonful in his open to-go cup of coffee.
Maybe love was not for him. Or Spider-Man. Or Peter Parker. Whoever. That’s when his senses perked at the sound of a familiar gait.
“There you are! What’s shakin’, toots?”
Spider-Man nestled his knees toward his chest, cradling the pint between them. He felt like disappearing from the world at the moment.
Deadpool inspected the ball of red and blue shielding itself. Curled tight with a metal spoon protruding from pouty lips.
“Yikes,” Shifting his weight. “Trouble, I assume.”
“Assume,” Spider-Man grumbled.
Grimacing as Deadpool casually sat beside him, hands resting behind his head. He wanted to be alone, recently reminded of how nasty he could be in a foul mood. Although, Deadpool did have a knack for distractions. A couple of those would be welcomed right about now. Truthfully, the company was bringing a sense of relief.
“And?” He inquired. “Details.”
Peter did not want to rehash the last twenty-four hours, which needed oh-so-much context. Deadpool did not need to know everything about Peter, or anything for that matter, and he was not going to start here. Losing his grip under the frustration, he crumbled under the anxiety flooding in as his thoughts swirled. Opting to reply,
“Spider-Man, basically.”
“They know, or-”
“Yeah. That’s who I am. I like it. I need it.” The Merc waited during the defensive pause. “But it’s not a normal life. I get that. So does she. It’s just not enough anymore.”
“Ah,”
“She deserves better,” Peter stated, taking another scoop. Instead of the sweet cream, his bite was laced with the reality of his words. They deflated him as he said them out loud.
Deadpool chimed with a rare sincerity, “Well, I’m sure you are doing your best. Those situations can be…tough.”
He thought of Deadpool’s wife. His ex. Ex-wife. Now that was messy. The city was in shambles when their relationship blew up. Deadpool had filled him in on some details after. Simply, not enough Deadpool. Too much Wade. She struggled to accept Wade as he changed. The more Peter admired the new version, the more Deadpool’s wife rejected him. Shit, was that my fault, too? Taking another scoop. He hoped he had not contributed to that, but what was another wallop of guilt?
Peter knew Wade could relate. In a twisted way, it was reassuring. A companion in turmoil. He was relieved to know Wade was beside him with all his melancholy.
“Sometimes, love isn’t enough.” Deadpool continued.
“Yeah,”
A brief moment passed in silence.
“Well, this is a pity party.”
“Mhmm,” Peter confirmed with another bite.
“You know what you need? A night out! Two bachelors out on the town. My classy establishment has a new act I think you’d get a kick out of.”
“Knowing you, I don’t think so.”
“Imagine,” Deadpool said, waving his hand above him toward the sky.
“Nope.”
“C’mon. You’re telling me you’d rather wallow up here than see a show that will sear into your eye sockets for the rest of your life?”
“Yup.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Mmmhm.” Peter exaggerated.
The briefest moment of silence graced Peter’s ears when Deadpool perked up again.
“How about,” Spider-Man did not indicate encouragement to this line of questioning. “A good rebound. That’s the best way to get a move on. I’ll be your wingman. The ladies usually jump on me, but I can shoot a few your way.”
Peter groaned, twisting the spoon in the cup to properly mix the chunky contents. Being around other people sounded like torture. Besides, he was being productive right here with his pint.
“I don’t do things like that.”
“What, like sex? You don’t have sex?”
“N-no! I mean, yes! Uhg, I mean, I don’t do one-night stands.” Peter corrected in a raised pitch.
“Uh-huh, sure.” Deadpool lifted his head as if recollecting something.
The eyes of Sipder-Man’s mask squinted in his direction.
“You know I read something, somewhere,”
“No.”
“That you and Ms. Black Cat-”
“Not talking about.”
“Oh! So it’s true, then.”
Peter gripped the spoon between his teeth with a sigh. Flopping his head to the side in irritation.
“Alight, alright,” Deadpool shook his hands in front of his chest, figuratively letting the topic go. With another sweet silent millisecond, “You know, I’m pretty flexible too. Would you make me purr , Spidey?”
Peter hoped his annoyance was being perceived clearly.
“Seriously! Or would you prefer I rustled up instead, mopey.” Deadpool shook his hand atop Peter’s head, pretending to mess up the hair under the mask. “So tense.”
Peter recoiled, offended. Anxiety flaring from the contact.
…Though, they were pretty synchronous in more ways than when they teamed up. During the lulls between patrols, they got to know each other well. As much as two masked men could. Deadpool always got Spider-Man his own plate during stakeouts, noticing how he took note of Spider-Man's favorite joints. When Spider-Man got hurt the not-so-gentle way of Deadpool helped him mend. On the nights when Spider-Man did not go home, Deadpool would set up a secondary system and T.V. in one of his hideouts so they could play online. ‘That split screen shit messes with my KDR.’ How Deadpool would wear that shit-eating grin when busting Spider-Man’s chops. Like the one he had right now.
They were more alike than he would like to admit. Covering up the craziness of their lives with moronic dispositions. Peter acted as if he hated it, but he looked forward to the plays and quips of someone who could relate to him. It was easy. Familiar. Deadpool was flexible, too, wasn’t he? It was becoming difficult to reject the passing thought completely.
What was he contemplating? Feelings for this guy? No. Spider-Man had grown fond of his annoying teammate. They were partners.
“More like lovers.”
“Hm?”
“Nothing.”
Peter chuckled to himself. Deadpool cocked his head, raising his brow with a smirk. God, why was he looking at him like that? Acting coy, like it was endearing or something. Deadpool's levity made Peter want to give in to his instincts to avoid this heartache. The corner of his mouth curled up. Even though Deadpool was unpredictable at times, he was a safe place Spider-Man could come to.
Making a mistake felt so natural. Necessary. He pressed his lips to the spoon, slowly pulling it away from his mouth, getting off the last bit of cream. Deadpool watched as the spoon slid through Peter’s lips. Upon release, white eyes met back up at Spidey’s.
Peter acknowledged his trust in Deadpool, and The Merc’s looseness clouded his better judgment, but what was the harm? Love was dead, but pleasure wasn’t.
Taking a small scoop from the pint, he lifted the spoon to Deadpool, who hesitated before taking the cue.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
It could ruin everything—irrefutable damage to his friendship with this big weirdo.
The scarred lips were open just enough for Spider-Man to push the spoon through. He could feel the pressure of Deadpool’s lips and tongue surrounding the utensil. He pulled it out slowly from the mouth’s grasp. Spider-Man then brought the spoon to himself, lapping the remaining cream. Tasting the streaks left by Deadpool. It was good.
Peter felt his heart thumping hard. He could see he had Deadpool’s full attention, and he liked it. Through the gaze, Peter sensed the tension building inside him. What was he thinking about right now? Does Deadpool think he is actually seeing Spider-Man do this? Peter barely could. Did all those flirtations have any basis?
With another scoop, Spider-Man lifted it to Deadpool. Eyes still locked, Deadpool wrapped his tongue to the bottom of the spoon, the cold of the metal sticking to it taught, pulling it in. Deadpool’s jaw moved against the metal, absorbing all he could before it was taken away.
Spider-Man leaned toward him. Every millisecond dragged before lightly brushing Deadpool’s lower lip with his. A small sting of cold, with a hint of chocolate.
Pulling away, Peter's mind went into a frenzy.
What was he doing? He must be stupid. But It felt kinda good. Yup, stupid. This was Deadpool. Deadpool . The Merc with the Mouth. The mouth he just kissed.
Peter felt fingertips touch his jaw as they traced it as he turned to see Deadpool looking expectantly. The Merc leaned over him, meeting Spider-Man’s lips again. Soft at first, feeling craters of scaring in slow, brief movements. Running his tongue between Peter’s lips. Separating them to let him in. He lapped and pressed at the soft tissue. Peter wrestled the entry with his tongue, only to surrender, letting Deadpool invade him further.
Between apprehensive touches, Peter sunk deeper into the hand, cradling the back of his neck, fingers running through tufts of hair escaping the back of the mask. Deadpool’s scent surrounded him. It was the only thing he could think about, and he wanted to let it take him away. When Deadpool broke away, Peter made an irritated whine.
Deadpool tapped his pointer fingers together while biting his cheek before wiggling them at Spider-Man.
“You’re vulnerable right now,”
Peter lifted an eyebrow.
“What kind of friend would I be to take advantage of that? The good kind or the bad kind?”
Was that a trick question, or was he thinking aloud again? Peter hoped he’d keep the answer to himself. He already knew he was taking advantage of Deadpool's admiration for him.
Deadpool’s eyes animatedly rolled between his shoulders, apparently amid a debate with himself. After a generous lapse, Peter decided for him. Planting a hand on Deadpool’s thigh and squeezing, using it as leverage to lift himself on top of The Merc. Shuffling a leg between leathered ones. Spider-Man lowered his head and narrowed his eyes.
“Who says your taking advantage? I’ll decide what’s good for me. Or is the big bad Deadpool all bark and no bite?”
“Please, biting? That’s foreplay.”
“Oh?”
Spider-Man brushed his lips down the exposed area at Deadpool’s collar. Giving light kisses before using his teeth to wrap around the rough skin. Sucking playfully and applying pressure, feeling the skin fill the space between his gums. Pulling away, he had not even left a mark.
“What was that? A nibble or something?”
Deadpool then pulled their lips together, aggressive and calculated. The friction made Peter’s membranes hot and tender. He let out a whimper as a sudden pressure stung through him as the sensitive skin broke and began to throb with a metallic overlay. The ferocity shocked him, but it made him grind against the thigh he had captured.
Pulling away, they stared at each other, eyes flashing back and forth, making a silent agreement.
“I got a place nearby.” Deadpool offered.