Chapter Text
The night had started out typically enough. Peter Parker came home to his apartment, ate whatever left-over take out was still in the fridge, and donned his Spider-Man outfit for his nightly patrol.
Perhaps, it wasn't exactly like every other night. Peter was more tired than usual, but that was hardly surprising with finals week just rapping up and Peter working a double shifts at the college bookstore before heading over to the Daily Bugle, all in an effort to to make ends meet. Yet, exhaustion was nothing new to Peter.
He could handle it.
He stifled a yawn as he pulled his blue and red spandex up over his thighs, waist, and finally his shoulders. He to chugged an extra Red Bull to keep his eyes open before putting on his mask and climbing out the window.
He could handle it. He could handle it . . . until the moment he couldn’t.
It turned out that ‘moment’ occurred at exactly 12:48 a.m. when a led pipe connected with the back of his skull.
Peter’s head exploded with pain and a dazzling array of stars showered across his vision before all went black. The next thing he remembered was someone squeezing his shoulder and saying, in a voice he did not recognize, “Spidey? Spidey? Earth to Spidey. You there Web-Head?"
Peter blinked several times before his vision began to clear. The image of a figure dressed head to toe in red and black swam into sight before coming into sharper focus. Peter eyed the stranger suspiciously for a moment. He wasn't sure his muddled brain wasn't playing tricks on him because what he saw didn't make sense. It was too bizarre. The stranger wore a custom similar to his own, except for the color schemes. He had swords and guns strapped to his body. He was tall, imposing, and muscular.
“Oh, good. I thought you died for a second there.” The strange figure pretended to wipe sweat from his forehead in a exaggerated vaudeville-style expression of relief.
“Who are you?” Peter slurred. It felt like his mouth was packed with cotton.
“Name's Deadpool,” The man said enthusiastically. He extended a hand for Peter to shake.
“I’ve never heard of you,” Peter ignored the extended hand and instead used his hands to push himself up.
“Mercenary? Killer for higher? Weapon-X? Merc with a Mouth?" Deadpool listed off in rapid session, "Any of these names ringing a bell?”
Peter shook his head but quickly stopped when a new wave of pain struck him.
“Really? I thought maybe you had." Deadpool sighed heavily. He let his hand fall limply to his side. He looked deeply disappointed. Peter was about to apologize for obviously hurting the guy's feelings but Deadpool had already returned to his previous hyperactive state before Peter had even opened up his mouth. Deadpool clapped his hands and rubbed them together with glee. “Oh well. I’ve heard about you though. Big fan by the way. Could you sign my unicorn?”
Deadpool simultaneously pulled out a black sharpie and a unicorn plushy out of what seemed like thin air. He pressed the items into Peter’s hands and stared expectantly at him. Peter looked from Deadpool to the unicorn and marker, then back up at Deadpool.
This was all too much to take in. His head was still spinning from the blow from the led pip earlier and Deadpool was not making it any easier to get his barrings.
“Wait, I need a second.” Peter implored, leaning his back against the wall.
“Yeah, of course. You did take a pretty good hit to the head. That sure will be a shiner tomorrow. Take all the time you need." Deadpool apologized. He took the unicorn and marker back from Peter. Peter blinked and the items were gone. Either he had a terrible concussion or Deadpool was so fast that he couldn't see his movements. Neither of these thoughts were comforting to Peter; anyway he looked at it, he was vulnerable. Deadpool started whistling absentmindedly. He glancing around the alley with the interest of someone who had never seen one before.
Peter could make a break for it but he quickly discarded that idea. Peter's mind still felt sluggish and Deadpool was swift, bad combo. He didn't think he would make it very far before Deadpool caught him. No, it would be better to keep the guy distracted till Peter could think straight. Those guns, swords, and thick muscles were all making Peter very nervous. Deadpool looked like he could snap Peter in half if he really wanted to. 'If he wanted to kill you he would have done it when you were unconscious,' Peter tried to reason with himself.
"What happened?" Peter asked, hoping his discomfort with his own weakness wasn't obvious. Deadpool was just inspecting a rather large pile of trash. “I was passing by when I saw you taking on a gang of street thugs. You must have been so preoccupied with the safety of the young women they were harassing, because one of them got the jump on you.” Deadpool explained.
Now Peter remembered. He had been swinging by when he had seen a group of men chasing a women down this alley; but that’s where his memory ended.
“Where is she?” Peter quickly searching for any sign of her. “Is she hurt?”
“Relax, hero. She ran off as soon as you went down. The gang was so excited that they took you down that they didn’t seem to notice her slip away.” Deadpool soothed.
Peter sighed a sigh of relief, then his shoulders slumped. "I was taking out by a single thug. That's embarrassing. My ego could have handled someone like Sandman, or Rhino but one normal guy. . ." Peter groaned.
Deadpool shrugged, "We all have off nights. I was once beaten by a bunch of pussy-."
"Deadpool!" Peter warned.
"Pussy-Pussycats." Deadpool finished. "What?" Deadpool cocked his head to one side in confusion then it suddenly donned on him, "Oh, I see what you thought I was going to say." Deadpool laughed until his clutched at his sides. "Wow, I could have phrased that differently. It's not a sexual euphemism, I promise, just a bunch a actual cats."
“Okay. . ." Peter ran a hand over his face, "and then what happened?” He asked.
"Well, there were so cuddly and cute!" Deadpool gushed. "I named them, Fluffy, CiCi, Checkers, Wolfgang, Fred-"
"I meant with the women," Peter rolled his eyes.
“Oh yeah, cat story another time. Well, you were down for the count, so I stepped in.”
The words ‘killer’ and 'mercenary' echoed in Peter’s foggy brain. Peter gulped audibly. “You didn’t kill anyone did you?”
Deadpool fell silent. “Define kill?”
“What did you do?” Peter demanded, his heart pounded again his ribs.
“I'm only joking.” Deadpool threw his head back and laughed heartily for several long minutes; when he finally stopped he looked at Peter and with a suddenly sober expression, “Look, your reputation proceeds you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Peter asked confused.
“I mean, I know all about your ‘no kill policy.’ Which I think is a silly policy, just F.Y.I. but New York is your house so I respected it. I only maimed them a little.”
“Maimed?” Peter repeated dumbfound.
“A little.” Deadpool reiterated. “They were all able to limp away. See, I respect your rules.”
Anger started in Peter’s toes and boiled right up to his head. All of his earlier apprehension faded away. He was not longer weary of Deadpool, he was furious with him. “That’s not how I do things in my city.” Peter snarled.
“But Spidey, their wounds probably won’t leave any permanent damages . . . probably“
“That's not the point! I want you out of here.” Peter prodded Deadpool so hard in the chest that Deadpool actually stumbled backwards a couple of steps. “I never want to see you walking around my streets again or there will be Hell to pay.” And with that Peter shot a web onto the adjacent building and swung away.
“Does this mean you aren’t going to sign my unicorn?” Deadpool yelled after him crestfallen. “And by the way, you’re welcome for saving your life,” He muttered under his breath.