Chapter Text
Spider-man swings from rooftop to rooftop on his daily nightly patrol.
The Manhattan sky is a rough inky blue and the stars are cloaked in the smog of the city, it's an upsetting metaphor perhaps, but one that suits the citizens' stiff lipped motto to 'work and leave the dreaming for later', after all one had to work if they wanted to afford to live anywhere in New York. Starry-eyed tourists might romanticise New York with to be rich and dynamic, but Spider-man knew the city's shadows in their real shades and made it his duty to try to lessen them even if no one supported his vision. The night air was dry, but the chill stung through his suit as his lithe form cut through the air throwing itself effortlessly from building to building. Ordinarily he would wish for nothing more than to go back to his cramped apartment and settle back comfortably against the radiator, but today that is a futile notion as the man hadn't paid his heating bills and thus home was just as cold as the outdoors. But home was also far less interesting. There was a certain thrill that Peter got from swinging around NY in his spandex suit, a rush of adrenaline and even better an impersonal escape from Peter's mundane life and social problems by hiding behind the famous mask of his alias. Spider-man's identity was an addiction and a way of escape; it fulfilled a craving for action and it gave Peter Parker a sense of purpose as a hero who did good. But the two lives of course could not be completely separated as both of their troubles affected the other. And that's why the thrill of swinging was broken when the man's stomach groaned in protest at its poor diet. Packet noodles and coffee just don't cut it anymore.
Spider-man landed with a thud onto the roof of an old crumbling apartment, it stood out in stark contrast against the fancy skyscrapers nearby. Sighing and shaking his head he crawled along the roof until he reached the ledge and crouched carefully to peer below. 'Oh shush. I just don't have the time to deal with you.' he berated his growling stomach, raising his head high in noble opposition. Spider-man's wide red lenses shone in the dark and his form was all black except for the large red spider symbols along his front and back that were saturated with the red glow of traffic break lights underneath. Further up the street there was a cheap Chinese restaurant and at the other side of the road a nightclub. Spider-man watched silently as the people below strolled by in and out of the orange boxes of light cast by streetlamps, the dull thud of pop music from the nightclub stinging his ears. A group of young men, drunk, laughed and sang as they walked by leaning heavily into one another. Spider-man felt an emptiness larger than the one in his stomach from high above on his perch; sure these weren't perfect citizens by any stretch but they had something that Peter sorely missed. Friends.
He shook his head telling himself his self-pity was childish, he was an adult, rounding the age of 28. But it was too late; old memories had already begun to swamp his mind. He thought back to his youth, but not too far back because those high school days weren't great either, he thought to his sunny days at Empire State University, spending time with dear friends at the Coffee Bean when they were all young. Mary Jane, Harry Osborn, Flash Thompson... Gwen. He backtracked, okay maybe it was never so great, but at least then it was simpler. These days they were all old. And life was complicated. Harry had gone mad again and was masquerading as the Hobgoblin, Mary Jane was eternally busy working at Stark Industries, Flash was tied to his symbiote as Agent Venom jetting away to missions in the far beyond, and Gwen... Her death had been his fault. He coughed to even his ragged breath. What did it matter, Spider-man worked alone. He always had. All this meant was less trouble; less people for him to worry about being harmed by being close to him and his dangerous lifestyle. Besides, he liked being alone. Didn't he?
Spider-man watched another man, a lone man, rush out of the restaurant and dump leftovers into the dumpsters around the back. This red-aproned man was perhaps more familiar to Peter. With pathetically fragile movement Spider-man reached under the shirt of his suit and pulled his battered phone out of a flattened pocket. He swiped the lock screen off and opened his messages. There was one from his Aunt May: 'Good luck with that job interview Peter xxx'.
Job interview?? His eyes widened. Oh no! He had completely forgotten, he had applied for a job as a lab assistant for New York University and his interview had been today. Peter needed to pay his bills. The rent was high in New York and it wasn't something that Peter could afford without a job, he already could not afford the gas bills, they'd been sacrificed in order to pay the electric ones. Peter had his priorities, his laptop was more important than his health. And then his beloved Aunt May had also run into trouble, she was in and out of hospitable after heart problems and he had promised to pay every penny of her care. Without thinking of course that he really didn't have a penny to pay. But responsibility was both Peter and Spider-man's commitment; he'd promised Uncle Ben it was, because Spider-man's irresponsibility was the reason Uncle Ben had died. Many times doing the responsible thing was the most difficult but it was also him who had this power and it was his promise, and Spider-man didn't break his promises, Peter Parker didn't either. While his obsession of taking responsibility was good for others whom he saved, it came at the sacrifice of his own well-being and sometimes his sanity.
Peter missed the interview because, no surprises, he'd been so eager to go out as the famous web-slinger in order to release his pent up frustrations with life through action and danger. As soon as he donned his Spider-man costume he had forgotten completely about the interview and his own responsibilities of the non-heroic kind. Peter had lost Parker Industries his multi million research company when he'd quite literally burnt it to the ground to prevent Doc Ock from taking it over. He'd lost all his money along with it and the projects he had invested in to help the world on a larger scale. But he was determined not to go back to his previous job as a photographer at the Daily Bugle as he couldn't stand JJJ's rants and manic hatred of his web clad alter-ego. Peter wanted to make something new out of his career, so far that didn't seem to be working. Too bad superhero work just didn't pay, it was all charity. He sighed tucking the phone away and then putting his head into his hands. He was an utter failure. Between his fingers he could see a couple fervently snogging up street, his eyes narrowed and he turned up his nose in distaste. They delicately reminded him of something he once had but he wasn't quite sure what. Then suddenly he was reminded of Bobbi Morse, Mockingbird, his former girlfriend who had dumped him just a week ago for being 'lazy and incompetent'. 'Ugh god no, where are the criminals today.' He mumbled resting his hand heavily upon his chin.
'Right here.~' Sang a coarse voice from behind him.
Spider-man jumped in bemusement almost losing his balance and toppling over the ledge. He quickly regained his balance and turned towards his visitor.
There was no one there.
Spider-man frowned worriedly. Was he finally losing his sanity? After all these years parading around head to toe in skin-tight spandex that even a fetishist wouldn't wear for as long, jumping off buildings, beating up bad guys like it was a hobby, and adopting a name after a creature that half of the population would gladly step on, he wouldn't really be surprised. Anyone who did the things he did, in fact anyone who went by the title 'superhero' was surely a few screws loose already.
'Well Webhead, looks like you've finally lost the plot.' He muttered to himself.
'Really Spidey? You can't have lost the plot already, it's only just beginning.' He knew that voice. That irritatingly grating voice, it sounded like someone had hacked up their windpipe and then filled it with air and then sucked the air out into several balloons and stuffed them up their windpipe instead. There was only one outrageously annoying person it belonged to.
'Deadpool!' His voice rose as he raised himself into a crouch. His body stiffened defensively. While he was sure the mercenary would not hurt him unprovoked as was valid from the lack of his spider-sense, and the fact that the mercenary reserved for him a friendly affection, that didn't mean that Deadpool wasn't dangerous. He was unpredictable, crazy, and he was of course one of- if not the most- famous mercenaries.
'That's right, love bug. The one and only. Also known as: smooth criminal, the merc with the mouth, ex-avenger... Some call me the angel of paroxysm, others call me 'the shit'.' Deadpool announced, evidently proud of himself. 'I'm glad you recognise my voice, in your head. Sometimes the mask changes it, y'know how that is?'
'Stop messing with me. Where are you?' Spider-man had now turned his head in every direction but Deadpool was yet to be found. Though his voice had sounded much nearer. Spider-man turned away from the ledge and crept around the roof looking into the shadows cast by the fire escape and the air ventilation. Nothing.
'I'm not telling. That would spoil the fun!' Deadpool cackled gleefully.
Spider-man scratched his head. 'Alright. Well I don't even need my spider-powers to smell your horrible stench from a mile away.'
Whilst it was true that the mercenary smelt absolutely awful at all times (like rotting Mexican food, blood, and iron) Peter had lied. He was going to use his spider-senses to find Deadpool. The main purpose of his spider-sense was to warn him of danger but it also worked in unusual and inexplicable ways such as helping him find his way through the dark or alternately to find something in the dark that was potentially dangerous. And Deadpool was certainly potentially dangerous. He followed the dull sound in his head until he hit something solid but invisible. He plucked at it and pulled off a sheet that turned white to reveal the red and black clad mercenary.
'What the hell?' Spider-man croaked.
'I felt like a change from Mexican. Shocking, I know.'
Deadpool was sitting crosslegged enjoying a full Chinese takeaway laid out in front of him. Duck spring rolls, noodles, pork, rice, cake. You name it, he had it all... His mask was rolled up beneath his nose and what was visible of his face was drowning in hoisin sauce along with the entirety of his gloved hands. The sauce was so excessive that it dripped and pooled onto the floor. How it was humanly possible for someone to make such a mess, Peter didn't know. But this was Deadpool, and he was the definition of a living mess.
'Oh Jesus, Wade! That- that is just unsanitary. Get some tissues or something man.' Spider-man held up the white sheet 'What is this thing anyway? How'd you somehow get your grubby mitts on-- what is it- an invisibility cloak? Wait. No. How long have you been here? Have you been spying on me???'
'Only around 10 minutes. Don't sweat, I actually think the way you talk to yourself is cute. See, another thing we have in common.'
'10 minutes?? Why didn't you say anything?'
Deadpool pondered, his mask scrunched up thoughtfully as he stuffed another spring roll into his mouth.
'Ah' wan'ed to see how a hero 'eally works. I was up here watching the wildlife through my binoculars, looking for my next tar-uh never mind- then you came along. And honestly I wasn't really sure if it was you at first, the black suit threw me off. I thought it was Doorman or Venom. Are you going through an emo phase again... Or- are you on your period?'
'None of those actually, it's called fashion; I'm trying to get to the front page of the Bugle again and it takes something drastic to beat the gossip on those 'daring' dresses that the media celebs are wearing, without showing any skin. And it's also a stealth suit. For the purpose of no one creeping up on me, and scaring those who do, apparently that didn't work out though. Now answer my first question. Where did you get this sheet?'
Deadpool wiped his face clean along his arm. Then pulled off his gloves and poured the contents of an entire water bottle over them as though this was a viable method to clean them. It really wasn't. Then he put them back on. 'From my work. Here, give it back now.' He reached his arm out towards the sheet.
Spider-man pulled it out of Deadpool's reach. His red eyes narrowed. 'Oh no. You're not getting this back. This is far too dangerous for you to have.'
'Hey! I said give it back, I paid money for that. It's not dangerous, what am I going to do with a sheet, throw it at someone? Don't do this Webs, I don't want to have to fight you.'
'You won't have to.' Spider-man shot his webs at Deadpool who scarcely dodged them. His spider-sense began to screech, raising the hairs along his neck.
Deadpool grimaced, he looked at the face of his hero and then towards the sheet in his hand. He unsheathed the katanas from his back.
'Wade...'
Deadpool was only using his katanas to cut the webbing that Spider-man threw as he would never purposefully mortally harm the other man. But there was no way for Spider-man to know this.
Both men stood opposite each other waiting for the other to make a move.
Deadpool moved first, he charged towards Spider-man reaching out for the sheet as though he was in a race to catch a baton. Spider-man speedily dodged then turned to shoot webs to catch the blade of his katanas. Deadpool cut through the webs and charged again. This time Spider-man leapt over him and shot a web at his foot using his momentum in the air to pull harshly at it, tripping Deadpool and sending him crashing onto his front. Spider-man quickly leapt back onto the floored mercenary and stuck him to the floor, immediately confiscating his katanas by stepping on his hands and throwing them aside.
'Hmph. Lucky trip.' Deadpool rasped as Spider-man crawled to sit cross legged beside him, smiling.
'I think you need more training.'
'I think I need more guns.'
'Ah but you're a liar. You wouldn't use them. I noticed you tried tremendously hard to not touch me with those katanas.' Spider-man wagged a finger in the air knowingly.
Deadpool grumpily blew a raspberry through his lips. The noise reverberated off the floor. 'Yeah okay, but don't tell anyone I have a soft spot for you. My career will be over.'
Spider-man rolled the white sheet into a ball. Deadpool watched from the corner of his eye, wriggling on the floor.
'Lets try again. Where, exactly, did you get this?'
'I told you, I got it from work. I bought it from this guy I had a job with, I don't even know his name.'
'The key word is 'exactly'.'
'Come on, give me a break. Fine, I'll say it, but you won't believe me. I got it from some small green furry goblin like thing with pointy ears.'
Spider-man's eyes widened. '... The... Jackal?'