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Peter knew he was fighting a bad guy.
Kind of.
Nowadays, it felt like he was always fighting some new villain. Some baddie with a grudge or a loose plot of revenge. Every day felt like it was foiling and toiling for Peter Parker, yet for some reason he couldn’t remember anything beyond that.
“I’ll be honest. I don’t actually know who you are,” he admitted shyly, staring at the woman towering over him. She was tall, gorgeous, and had a large circle of white around her left eye. She raised two fingers to her ear, and Peter heard her voice echo in his own.
“Wade, I think we’ve got a problem.”
Peter watched as a flash of red crashed to the ground beside them. The man stood, bleeding more than was probably okay, even by superhero standards. He cracked his neck a moment, and the sound sent a chill up Peter’s spine.
“Talk to me, my lucky girl,” he said, rubbing at a stain of blood like it was nothing but dirt or dust. “What seems to be the problem? Damsel still in distress? Rogue knight on the run?” He looked at Peter, raising a brow. “Spidey, baby, you alright?”
Peter felt overly relieved to be wearing the mask at that moment. “Um, yeah. Everything’s fine. Really good. Uh, except for the fact that I might not exactly know who either of you are?” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so pitched at the end of his statement, but his nerves were getting to him and he couldn't help it. The only thing keeping him from swinging out of there was that fact that his spider sense wasn’t spouting any alarms. “I’m really sorry if I’m supposed to, but I’m kind of freaking out because I’m pretty sure I was fighting someone, but I can’t really remember who I was fighting or why. And I really have no idea who either of you are, which is crazy because I know all the Avengers. Hell, I’ve met most of them, and I--”
The man raised two hands, looking between Peter and the woman a bit dramatically. “Time out. I’m gonna need an instant replay on this conversation. You’re telling me you don’t know who I, Deadpool, the master of comic commentary, the one and only mercenary with the best mouth, and no, I don’t take criticism; the only piscina full of muerto in the entire multiverse--” The woman threw a sharp elbow into his chest, sending him flailing backwards. “Okay, yeah, I deserved that. What I’m trying to get through to everyone here is: you have no idea who I am?”
If Peter didn’t know any better, he would say the man looked sadden by the fact. Even through the mask. “Yes?”
“Fuck me,” the man—Deadpool said, waving a gun in the air. Peter hadn’t realized he’d been holding it, and that shocked him. How could he be so caught off guard to not even realize a stranger right in front of him had a gun? “This is great. Fucking fantastic. One run in with a goddamn mutant and poor Spidey gets his brain scrambled.”
“Scrambled?” Peter asked, a bit concerned about that wording.
The woman waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. Name’s Domino. Nice to re-meet you.”
Peter gave a small wave. “Yeah. You too.” He looked around, noting the small amount of debris around them, the sound of sirens in the distance. “Right, well. This has been fun, but I’m just gonna go home--”
A red gloved hand stopped him, gripped a bit too tightly around his forearm. “Now wait just one Odin-damned minute. We need to get you sorted out. And that means paying a visit to your--” There was a dramatic pause as Deadpool shivered, looking off into the distance. “Dads.”
“Dads?” Peter got to ask before being hauled into a cab by a still bleeding Deadpool. Domino was closing the door behind them, thanking the driver and explaining how she had no money. The cab driver didn’t seem to mind.
“Hi,” Peter said dumbly, hand held up in an awkward wave as he looked between a concerned Steve Rogers and astounded Tony Stark. “How’s it going?”
Tony just sighed, head in his hands. “Explain this to me again. And slowly this time. You were fighting…” He waved a hand, signaling for someone to continue.
“Well, our great tech savior, we-“
Tony raised a hand again, silencing Deadpool. “Nu-uh. Not you. I want to hear it from the kid.”
Peter felt all eyes fall once again on him. “Well, uh, there’s not much I can add? Like he said, I was fighting. But I’m not sure why or, uh, who with?” He threw an apologetic expression Deadpool’s way, hoping it showed through the mask.
Steve stepped forward before Tony could continue. “Okay. So if I’m understanding this right, we’re dealing with a case of amnesia. Do we know the cause?”
“Mutant,” Deadpool chimed in. All heads turned on him with confusion. “Sorry. Sony copyright. Eh, enhanced individual?”
Tony opened his mouth to ask, but Steve put his hand on his shoulder, silencing him. “So we’re dealing with another enhanced. Okay. We can work with that.”
“Right,” Deadpool affirmed, rocking back on his heels. “So you guys can get one of your enhanced teammates to do some comic magic and bring old spidey back to the present, yeah?”
Tony grimaced, looking at Steve. “ I can get Wanda on the phone?”
Steve nodded. “And I can get Peter down to the lab until Bruce arrives.” He motioned to Peter, who in a moment of total comfort, reached up and pulled off his mask.
Everyone stared in abject horror as he took in a deep breathe, smile quickly falling. Expect for Domino, who was perusing the kitchen cabinets. For what, Peter didn’t care to ask.
“Oh,” Peter said, surveying the room, realization dawning. “I thought—“
“We do,” Tony explained abruptly, motioning between him and Steve. “But—“
“I have to say, Spidey,” Deadpool interrupted, body language expressing something akin to an awestruck revelation. “I’ve always been a slut for a man in red spandex, but damn are you even more gorgeous underneath.”
Peter felt himself blush, and itched put the mask right back on. “Oh. I just thought that, well, since the Avengers knew, I assumed that—“
Deadpool cut off his rambling with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Peter realized then that his spider sense hadn’t gone off even once since he’d been around the man. So how could someone like that not know who he was? “No harm done, kid. Your secret’s safe with me. Pinky promise.”
Peter couldn’t stop the relieved smile that stretched across his face at the childish words, leaning a bit into the grounding touch. “Thank you.”
“Right then,” Tony interrupted a bit brashly, stepping forward and placing his hand on Peters other shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at Deadpool as he did. “If you don’t mind, I think Steve needs to get the kid to a doctor.”
Deadpool returned the stare only a moment before backing off, hands raised. “Can’t argue with you there. Don’t worry, Spidey baby. I’ll be around.” He winked through his mask, and Peter was surprised that was even possible.
Domino popped up on his left, various bags of snacks in hand. “Snacks while we wait?”
“A woman after my own heart,” Deadpool beamed, taking the chip bag handed his way. “Hey billionaire, you got a TV around here?”
Tony grimaced. “You’re staying.”
FRIDAYS voice interrupted before Deadpool could reply. “Dr. Banner has informed me that he is on his way. Would you like me to send a transcription of your conversation to him in the meantime?”
“Yes, FRIDAY. Thank you.” Tony motioned to Steve. “Steve, darling, can you please take Peter down to the lab? And you two.” He turned to Deadpool and Domino, hands already in bags. “Come with me. We’re going to have a nice chat while I phone Wanda.”
Peter knew from experience that Tony Stark never had just a “nice chat”with someone like Deadpool.
Later, after a too in-depth medical examination and enough concerned Captain America looks to last a lifetime, Peter was shown to his room. In Stark Tower. Where he’d apparently been staying for the past two years after graduating college.
“I can’t believe I forgot my own graduation,” Peter lamented as Steve showed him into the room.
“You looked great,” Steve assured, leaving the door open behind him. “I think Tony still has the pictures somewhere if you want.”
Peter only nodded, seating himself on the bed. “So, about this job I have…”
“At the Daily Bugle,” Steve filled in, smiling. “You had an internship there your senior year. Don’t worry. Tony already called. We’ve got everything under control while we figure this out.”
Peter felt only slightly comforted by that. “Thank you. I really do appreciate it. All of this, actually. I mean, if I can be honest, I’m not really sure why you’ve gone above and beyond for me with all this.”
Steve shrugged, hands now in his pockets. “You’re a good kid, Peter. You’ve helped us a lot in the past couple years and, well, you know how Tony can be.”
Protective came easily to Peters mind and he smiled. “What’s in it for you?”
Steve blanched a moment, before turning his head, expression fond. “One could say it’s because you remind me a bit of me when I was younger. You’ve got a good heart, and the strength to stand up and fight for what you think is right.” He let a small grin slip then, as if remembering something only he was privy to. “And, well, let’s just say I have a personal interest in whatever makes Tony happy.”
Oh, Peters mind supplied helpfully, connecting at least a few of the pieces. Sure Tony and Steve’s relationship had been rough after the whole airport thing in Germany, what with Captain America on the run and all, but he supposed it wasn’t outrageous to think that the two of them, maybe....
Steve ruffled Peter’s hair, pulling him from his thoughts. “Don’t think too hard about it. It’s all going to work out, okay?”
The ease with which Steve had touched him did startle Peter a bit, but he guessed a lot could change in four years. And who could say no to a head pat from Captain freaking America? “Yeah. Thank you. Really.”
Steve gave a final pat to Peter’s head before letting go. “You should get some rest. Wanda’s flying in, so she should be here sometime before morning. “
Peter only nodded, and that seemed to appease Steve as he left with a final wave of goodbye. The silence of the room was a bit deafening after that, eerie with the feeling of something familiar yet undeniably foreign. Breathe, Parker. This is just normal superhero stuff. Part of the job. Nothing you can’t handle. I’m sure Mr. Stark’s lost his memory countless times---
Cursing was the first thing Peter heard, followed by a loud bang and crash as someone fell head first onto his floor.
“Jesus Christ. For supposed plush carpeting that is the cheapest shit I have ever had the pleasure of shoving my face into. Can you believe Tony Stark draws the line at interior decorating? Who knew.”
Deadpool pushed himself up from the floor as he spoke, rotating his limbs in a stretch that didn’t seem humanly possible.
“Deadpool?” Peter exclaimed, and found his mouth quickly covered by two red-gloved hands.
“Quiet, baby. Deadpool’s on Mr. Stark’s not so nice list, hence the entrance from above. Your vents desperately need cleaned out by the way. Can you spell mold? No, really, can you? I hear speech patterns are the first to go in cases of amnesia--”
“What are you doing here?” Peter had to ask, interrupting whatever Deadpool had been going on about. “This is my room.”
Deadpool smiled, and Peter noticed that the bottom half of his mask was pulled up, leaving his mouth exposed. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner. You answered the question: Where is Deadpool currently standing? Well, the correct answer was Spidey’s room, but I spoke with the judges and we’ve decided we’ll take--” He stopped suddenly, mouth turning downward. “What did I do now? Something I said?”
“What?” Peter blanched, mind still bouncing back from the game show jargon he’d been trying to follow.
Deadpool waved a hand, gesturing at Peter’s face. He took the next moment to crouch down in front of him, leaning over while tilting his head upward. “That. The Spidey “You Disappoint Me You Fuck” face.”
Peter leaned away reflexively, Deadpool’s gaze intense even behind the mask. “What? No, that’s not what I—It's just, your face....”
Deadpool’s mouth turned even more downward. “Ah. You mean my manly battle scars? They’re a hit or miss with the ladies. Men, too. Some aliens. Asgardians are another story, but, well, we already knew that.”
Peter ignored the man’s rambling. “No, I mean, it’s just strange? To only see half of your face. Especially when I don’t even know--” He stopped himself before he could finish.
Unfortunately, Deadpool was already ahead of him. “No, it’s okay. I won’t hold it against you, even though I really, really want to. What’s four years of friendship down the drain? Meaningless, really.” He stood then, before crashing down onto the bed beside Peter, crowding his space. “So, like, there’s really nothing in there about me? Not even a little, tiny bit? A red smudge, maybe? It’s one of my more common forms.”
Peter shook his head slowly, feeling bad about it. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t....” He paused a moment, then turned, meeting the man’s eyes as best as possible. “My body seems to like you, though.”
Deadpool’s jaw visibly dropped, and Peter had to wave his arms frantically, face heating when he realized what he’d said. “Not like that! I mean, my spider sense. They don’t go off when I’m around you, even though I technically don’t know you. So, I can assume you must be a really good friend. Since that doesn’t happen very often.”
Deadpool’s mouth hung open a few seconds longer, body still, before closing it and dropping his forehead down onto Peter’s shoulder. “Christ, Spidey. I know I can’t die, but you’re really--”
“Peter.”
Deadpool looked up. “Huh?”
Peter dipped his head, outstretching one hand. “My name. It’s Peter. Since you already saw my face. And heard the two leading Avengers say it out loud.”
Deadpool looked from him to the hand, then grabbed it, an amused smirk on his face. “Wade. Wade Wilson. Although, you already know that. Knew that. But it seemed like a good time to reiterate it.”
Peter felt Wade’s grip, firm and warm even through the glove. “It’s nice to meet you, Wade. I hope we can be good friends. Again.”
Wade laughed, and Peter found the sound comforting.
Peter was going crazy.
He’d been grounded to Avengers Tower since Bruce had confirmed that, yes, something was definitely not right with Peter’s mind. Which, at first, didn’t seem like such a bad thing. Unlimited access to the tower, hanging with fellow Avengers between missions, and even being allowed in Tony’s lab weren’t in any way, shape, or form a bad thing necessarily. But after a few weeks of this, peppered with various tests by both Bruce and Wanda (Peter didn’t remember her either, but she had made sure to to let him that they were undeniably friends), there were only so many movies Peter could watch before even he got tired of the car chases and explosions.
“He won’t even let me out to go get a slushie,” Peter complained as Wanda lifted her hands from his temple, glowing hands quickly fading. Every few days he would let her wander inside his head, looking for any signs of improvement or degradation. Most days she found neither. “I mean, come on. It would only be like five blocks, ten max, and, no, the thing Mr. Stark makes is not the same.” Sometimes, the rusting, dirty metal of a slushie machine just gave that extra zing to your drink that was impossible to replicate.
Wanda only raised a brow.
“Wait, you’ve had a slushie before, right?” Peter had to ask, because if not that was criminal and he was a terrible friend, memories or not.
“Yes, Peter,” she sighed, smiling so kindly that sometimes it was hard for Peter to wrap his mind around the fact that she was actually an all-powerful witch capable of killing him and the rest of the Avengers with a single thought. “It was one of the first things you made me try when you moved into the Tower.”
“Oh. Good.” Peter relaxed a bit, but yet another reminder of his missing memories still kept him from unwinding completely. “Wanda, what do you know about Wade?”
Wanda seemed confused, having pulled a Starkpad into her hand. Most likely to make notes for Bruce. “Wade?”
“The red guy,” Peter supplied helpfully, and he swore Wanda almost rolled her eyes.
“Right. The red guy.” She finished swiping something on the screen before continuing. “I’ve only interacted with him when you’ve been around, and I trust your intuition even without your enhanced sense. I can only assume he is a good man, even if his actions sometimes prove otherwise.” She paused then, intrigued. “Why? Did he do something?”
The faint spark of red within Wanda’s eyes when she spoke left Peter waving his hands vigorously in dismissal.
“No! No, of course not. I was just...wondering. That’s all.” And he was. He hadn’t seen much of Wade since his first few days after the incident, and the insecure part of himself wondered if there was something bigger that he was missing.
Wanda watched him as his mind wandered, seemingly unconvinced that there wasn’t more that Peter wanted to say. But she let it be, gesturing toward the door as she laid the Starkpad back on a nearby table.
“That’s all for today. I’ll let Bruce know that there’s been no significant change, good or bad. You’re free to go, if you’d like.” She’d started giving Peter the option after he’d lingered too long the first time, questions brimming on the tip of his tongue. She’d indulged him then, and every time afterwards, but now there was little else he could think to ask her without getting into more persona subjects.
What he needed more than anything, actually, was to get outside and breathe in some actual air.
Peter felt like the stray cats he used to feed outside Aunt May’s apartment, lounging in the long rays of sun that peeked through New York’s looming buildings. He let his eyes close as he leaned against the railing of the balcony, and once again felt his spider senses tingling with something he couldn’t grasp. It was an infuriating feeling, like grabbing at a stray web, stretched thin wispy in the breeze.
He opened his eyes, letting out a sigh of frustration. Wanda had told him such sensations weren’t cause for concern, and was most likely his mind trying to break down whatever barrier had been put in place to block out his memories. It was almost like he could feel the damn thing, yet it wouldn’t give no matter how much he pushed.
Peter decided to focus on something else. He let his hearing settle, honing in on the familiar sounds of the city he loved: Voices bouncing off the high walls surrounding the congested streets. Cars puttering by, honking and revving at lights. For a moment, he was almost able to pretend he’d ever forgotten a damn thing.
But then he honed in on two familiar voices, leaning over the rail dangerously with his head down to follow the sounds. Opening his eyes, he could see below, to the side of the tower, was Tony’s familiar black car. Most likely dropping him off from another meeting or whatever billionaire superheroes went to during the week.
Tony was standing, voice sounding agitated even if all Peter could catch was every third word. But he didn’t care much about what was being said because beside Tony was Wade, dressed in a familiar bright red and waving his arms around in an exaggerated manner.
A smile played at Peter’s lips at the larger than life image, even though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. He let his hand twist around his wrist absently, running over the web shooter he was wearing. He blamed it, and the excitement of the moment, of seeing someone outside of Avengers Tower for the first time in days, for why he decided to swing himself down to the two.
When he landed in the alley beside the Tower, repositioning his sweatshirt that had gotten hiked up in the descent, Peter realized the two aren’t just talking. They were fighting. About him.
“You really think you’re doing him a favor by coming around here?”
That was Tony, righteous annoyance in his tone, and Peter couldn’t help but wince. He’d been at the receiving end of that voice before.
“Well, I’m not exactly everyone’s preferred party favor, but I’d like to think--”
“Wrong,” Tony interrupted, pointing a finger at Wade. “You don’t think. Which is why Peter can’t even remember the last four years. Which is also why he’s come back on more than one occasion with broken bones or worse. Even more often than that, moping over something he doesn’t even feel he can tell me. So when I say it’s better that you keep your distance, know I mean it.”
A car misfiring nearby jumped Peter out of his eavesdropping, causing him to make enough noise to be noticed. Wade was the first one to notice, looking over Tony’s shoulder with such a forlorn expression, even through the mask. There seemed to be darker than normal red spots on his uniform, and Peter had to wonder if he hadn’t just come back from a fight.
“Peter,” Wade said, leaning forward, and the name sounded odd in the other man’s mouth. It had always been nicknames between the two of them, at least since he’d forgotten everything, so it made the atmosphere feel that much more somber. Heavy, almost.
Tony turned instantly, brows drawn. “Who let you outside?”
“N-no one!” Peter assured, waving his hands. “I saw you two from the balcony, so I swung down to say hi, but I didn’t know—I didn’t realize that you...”
Tony pressed a hand to his face, closing his eyes. “Peter. Please. Go back inside. And through the front door, please. God forbid you slip and hurt yourself worse than you already have.”
Peter found himself only able to nod, still a bit overwhelmed by the situation he’d found himself in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Spidey baby. Me and dad were just having one of those intimidation chats. You know the ones where the girl brings the boy home so the dad has to get out the gun and--”
“Wade,” Tony interrupted while motioning for Peter to follow him. “Go home. Now.”
Wade looked at Tony a moment, then over to Peter.
Peter instinctively avoided Wade’s gaze, looking down, and he didn’t need his spider sense to know that was probably the worst thing he could have done in the situation. Even with the mask, the hurt was evident on Wade’s face.
“Oh,” Wade said after a moment, mask angling downward as he shifted a bit on his feet. “Right, then. They did always say three’s a crowd, even when you make it sexy. So I’ll just....you know...”
Wade was turning around and away before Peter could reach out for him, blocked by Tony who didn’t move until Wade was at least a block away.
When Tony did turn back, Peter could see the confliction on his face even though he was trying to hide it.
“Come on,” he said eventually, one hand sliding over Peter’s shoulder with a sigh. “You can help me get dinner out of the car.”
Doombots were definitely something Peter hadn’t been prepared for.
Steve had thrown the word at him when an alarm went off within the Tower, Tony speaking to Friday as he forwarded a location to the rest of the Avengers.
“Doombots?” Peter couldn’t help but repeat, gaze flickering between the two leaders as they made their way to the landing pad.
Steve nodded at Tony as he disappeared down a separate hall, most likely to get his suit.
“Guess you wouldn’t remember that either,” Tony said, pressing a hand over his chest. The Iron Man armor slid over him like water, cascading into lethal perfection. That was definitely new. “Victor von Doom, aka Dr. Doom. Smart guy gone bad. Deals with science and magic. Full of himself, as they always are.”
Peter nodded along, raising a hand to his eyes as they walked outside. The sun was high and blinding, shining off of Tony’s armor. “Bad guy. Magic. Robots. Got it.” His hand gripped the mask in his sweatshirt pocket, having left it there days before. “I can meet you guys there if you send me the--”
Tony rounded on Peter, one hand stopping him in his tracks. “Woah there. Who said anything about you joining us? We still don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours, and we can’t risk another blow to the head.”
“But I--”
The faceplate of the Iron Man suit was still up, and the look Tony shot him was deadly serious. “No buts. This is for your own safety. We can’t risk it. You’re too important.”
Peter could only stare, mouth open. Tony had just said he was important.
“He’s right. You’re safer here.”
Peter turned and Steve was right behind him, dressed in almost to familiar red, white, and blue. He had his mask down, and his blue eyes fell on Tony.
Tony nodded, faceplate dropping in turn. “Listen to the Captain, kid.” He took a few steps back, away from Peter, and Steve came to his side, hooking an arm around his waist, one foot on Tony’s armored boot.
“Friday will keep the comms open if you need us.” Steve flashed a smile, easy and confident. “This isn’t our first fight, Peter. We’ll be okay.”
Iron Man’s suit powered up, lifting the two of them up and away from the tower. Peter could only watch before losing them in the glare of the sun.
The Avengers were very much not okay.
Peter found himself unable to look away as the Avengers fought across the screen in the Tower common room, newsreels framing them above and below as the camera shifted over top of them from a news helicopter.
“Friday, call Mr. Stark.”
A flash of Iron Man flying by, doombots on his heels, whizzed past the camera. A few rings echoed in the room before falling silent.
“Call failed. Communications system unable to connect--”
Peter stopped listening, instead turning back to the TV. The view was of downtown, near a deli he vaguely remembered frequenting in high school. A crashed doombot was crawling out of the storefront, and a familiar flash of red was quick to shoot it through the head. Cap was by his side in a moment, deflecting oncoming blasts.
Fuck this, Peter thought before running to his room.
The streets were a disaster. Broken bits of doombots and debris were scattered everywhere, and any remaining civilians in the area were cowering inside buildings, waiting for the metal storm to past. The Avengers had set up a perimeter, and it seemed Hawkeye and Black Widow were on border control.
“What are you doing here, kid?” Clint yelled over the noise, shooting arrows as he spoke and never missing his target. “Stark said you were sitting this one out.”
Peter shot a web at a building, swinging upward to kick a doombot in the head and into the nearest wall. “I couldn’t let you guys have all the fun,” he quipped, swinging into another group of swarming bots and webbing a few stragglers as he went. “Where do you need me?”
Clint hesitated, loosening an arrow, and Natasha dropped down between them, spider bites at the ready and tonfas out.
“Keep heading down this street. You’ll know you’ve found them when you hear Doom’s monologuing,” she said, annoyance lacing her voice. She lifted a hand, and two bright, blue spider bites shot into oncoming bots, grounding them immediately. “Now go. You’re more effective against magic than we are.”
Peter hesitated only a moment before swinging into action, heading farther downtown.
He hadn’t been expecting the ear-piercing screech that erupted in his ears, causing him to miss his next webshot and go careening to the ground. Luckily, he’d fallen from much higher before and wasn’t too damaged.
“The heck was that?” he said aloud, shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears. The sound of gunfire had him perking up, senses on high alert.
“As much as I enjoy seeing you ass up, Spidey, I can’t say I’m too happy to see you here,” Wade shouted as he rolled to the left to shoot two more doombots, taking off the head of three more with his katana. “Playboy said you were sitting this one out.”
Peter frowned, knowing Wade couldn’t see it. “You need my help.”
Wade took a moment to look around, as if expecting someone else. When he came back around to Peter, he looked incredulous. “Wait, you don’t mean me, do you? Because as charmed as I am, I don’t really need--”
A loud rumble shook the ground beneath them as a crack of thunder erupted in the sky, and all the doombots seemed to pause. A few moments of eerie silence passed around them before the bots began to retreat, changing direction to swarm further down the street.
“Well, that certainty doesn’t look good,” Wade chimed in, elbowing Peter before starting into a jog. He half turned when Peter didn’t move. “You coming?”
Peter didn’t have to be asked twice.
Doctor Doom wasn’t as menacing as Peter had expected him to be, but the blinding sigil of light beneath his feet that stretched out across multiple city blocks was a bit intimidating. Doombots still flurried overhead, but tendrils of yellow and white stretched from the sigil lines, striking quick and fast, almost blinding in their speed. The ground shook again beneath Peter’s feet, and he suddenly wondered why Thor wasn’t here. Seemed like they could use him right about now.
Peter recognized Domino across the way, jumping between doombots and snapping off limbs with the glee of a child uncaring of their safety. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.
Closer to him was Tony diving in between light tendrils, shooting off blasts at Doctor Doom when he could. Steve wasn’t far behind, using his shield to knock away any doombots that got in Tony’s way.
“If we take out Doom, will the robots stop?” He asked, already shooting out a web to the nearest building. It made sense, in his mind. Take out the leader, stop the hive.
Wade rounded on him. “Probably? But we don’t know anything for certain--”
Peter took off before Wade could continue, already swinging toward Doom. He was too busy with Tony to notice Peter coming in from above, swinging hard and fast. Doom turned his way only a few moments before Peter’s foot connected with his helmet, sending him stumbling back. When he regained himself, Tony shot a blast at his shoulder, causing Doom to yell and tendrils to go flying again.
One struck Tony hard, sending him spiraling to the ground, and Peter shot out a web in instinct, aiming for Doom’s feet. The webs wrapped around their target easily, knocking him off balance. Peter took the opportunity to swing over to Tony, landing next to him in a hurry.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter rushed out, hands out and unsure what to do. “Mr. Stark, are you alright?"
The Iron Man faceplate opened and Tony sucked in a breath, groaning. His eyes grew wide then, gaze falling over Peter’s shoulder.
“Peter,” Tony rasped, and Peter’s senses were suddenly raised to the max.
But when he turned, it wasn’t to find one of Doom’s tendrils aiming for him. Instead, Wade was standing there, light piercing like a knife through his chest and back before disappearing. Blood followed, falling from Wade’s back in a rush as the hole the tendril had left became more than apparent.
“Wade,” Peter choked out, rushing forward to haphazardly catch the man as he collapsed. He let himself settle under the weight of the man, looking up only a moment to catch Wanda ascending onto the street, pushing Doom further into a corner with each powerful, red blast. Steve was right beside her, providing support where he was needed.
Peter turned back to Wade, hands darting over the man’s body the same way he had over Tony’s. Except where Tony had been unscathed, Wade was bleeding, and badly. Peter felt the start of tears well in his eyes, and his chest hurt something fierce, head spinning.
“Hold on, Wade,” he said, tearing off his mask, feeling suddenly unable to breathe with it on. “You’re going to be okay, okay?”
Wade let out a laugh, wet and terrifying. “Of course I will. I’m fucking Deadpool.”
Peter knew he was grinning under the mask, but it didn’t stop the panic that was already setting in. This was wrong. All of this was all wrong. He should have been there for Wade, back at the tower. He should have stood up for him. Gone after him. He should have protected him, not the other way around. Yet Wade was going to die for him, and Peter still had no idea what the two of them had been to each other. It wasn’t fair.
“It’s not fair,” Peter said out loud, thoughts colliding with his mouth, unable to stop from rambling. He could feel Wade’s blood seeping into his uniform, warm and wet, and as Peter reached for his pulse, he realized he couldn’t find one. “No, no, no. Come on, Wade. This can’t--I can’t....”
Peter curled in on himself, hands griping the fabric of Wade’s uniform. When a hand curled over his shoulder, sobs now escaping his lips, Peter shook them off, angry, and held on tighter to Wade, whispering over and over: “I want to remember. I need to remember. Please let me remember you.”
It wasn’t until a gentle hand pressed against his head, that everything went black.
Peter woke up to unfamiliar gray walls, and the beeping of a machine he recognized only from countless trips to the hospital over the years. He blinked a few times, groaning as he tried to shift in the bed.
“How are you feeling?”
Peter turned his head to find Wanda in a chair beside him, book in hand. He couldn’t tell what she was reading, but the pages looked faded and worn. “What happened?” He asked with a dry throat, and Wanda moved to help him sit up.
“You’re in the tower,” she began to explain, hands gentle yet firm against his shoulders and chest. “The monitor is only a precaution as your body is not in any physical danger.”
That caught Peters attention, halting in his acceptance of a bottled water passed his way. “Physical danger?”
Wanda nodded, motioning for him to drink, as she continued. “Your mind is…changing. Shifting. I’m not exactly sure what it’s changing from, but since we brought you here your mind has been overwhelming itself. I tried my best to soothe you in the process, but the mind is complicated and there are parts of it even I cannot access. However, it would seem you have stabilized enough to be conscious.”
Peter let the words roll around in his head, mind still lagging. As they did, snaps of memory seemed to click into place, like a train hurtling forward: Doombots, Magic, Mr. Stark, Wade, bleeding and—
Peter’s eyes snapped open, panic rising in his chest. “Wade—“ Before he could finish the sentence, however, another memory floated through his mind: regenerative healing. Wade’s superpower. How could he forget? “Can’t die.”
Wanda only watched him warily, and Peter felt his stomach lurch as he remembered how he’d cradled Wade to him, cried for him, begged him to stay alive. He should have been embarrassed, practically mortified at his loss of composure, but it was all overwhelmed by the blinding relief he felt at the thought.
“He’s okay,” Peter breathed after a longer moment of silence, heart no longer racing. He leaned back, turning to Wanda. “Can I see him? Please?”
Wanda stared at him, searching before nodding. “I’ll have to get Bruce to clear you before you can leave this room, but—” She reached out a hand, fingers pressed gently against his temple. “It seems your mind is already recreating what was once lost. I’m still not sure what power the mutant who affected you had, but it seems it may only be a temporary control.”
I want to remember. Please let me remember.
“That means I—“ Peter began, words failing him as he realized what this meant. What this could mean.
“Will be just fine,” Wanda finished for him, hand drifting down to his and squeezing tight.
Wade was already gone.
When he’d asked, Tony had told him the mercenary had up and vanished once his wound had stitched itself closed, breath flowing back into his lungs as Domino had watched vigil (and apparently ate all their snacks, according to Clint).
Peter thought he could wait, could let the hope of seeing the man on another mission get him through the following days, but with his memories steadily returning, he could barely sit still.
So many memories of Wade by his side, legs swinging over rooftops while they chatted or ate ice cream from a neighborhood truck. Wade coming to him when he was bleeding and hurt, always waxing on about how he’d heal so much faster if Peter would just let him see his face. Wade making him laugh or cry or scream in frustration.
Wade always at Peter’s side, even when he didn’t want him to be. Even when he hadn’t realized he’d needed him the most.
All these memories seemed fly past Peter in a flurry, himself unable to grasp one even long enough to really take the moment in. Examine it thoroughly. Uncover what lay just beneath the surface, barely visible yet somehow blindingly bright.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what these memories were.
Peter swore as the last one faded, something quick and brief, like the brush of hand, while small tears collected inside his mask, and decided to go for a swing.
Swinging across New York, drifting between buildings and over bustling traffic, Peter felt like he was finally free. Not that he didn’t love living in the tower, but this, the loud, bustling, smog filled city streets, were home to him, and he didn’t think he could ever be away from them long enough to think otherwise.
He’d ended up with his feet dangled over a familiar rooftop ledge, somewhere out of the business district and closer to what felt like a secluded neighborhood. Kids road their bikes down cracked sidewalks, and cars zipped by quietly underneath him. The sun was setting now, a bright pink and orange hue setting behind the buildings, washing him in lingering sunlight and distracting him long enough to miss the pad of heavy feet behind him, groaning not soon after.
“Ah shit, kid,” Wade exhaled as Peter turned, one leg already swinging back onto the roof. He’d taken his mask off once he’d sat down, so now he only crushed it that much tighter in his hand. No use in trying to put it back on now.
“Wade, I—“
Wade raised both hands, shaking them vigorously. “Oh no. I did not come here for whatever apology or lecture you have prepared for me. I was just finishing up some business across town and remembered here was—” He paused, as if thinking better of finishing his sentence. “Never mind. Why aren’t you back at the tower? Thought your dads had you on lockdown since the whole brain scramble?”
Peter huffed, rolling his eyes. “They’re not my dads. And before you say anything I know for a fact they’re not because I remember that they never have been and most likely never will be.” A small part of him may have jumped with glee at the prospect of being adopted by a high-profile hero like Iron Man or Captain America, but hell if he was going to admit that out loud.
Wade stared at him through his mask, expression unreadable. Long moments passed on the rooftop between them, sun getting fractionally lower with every passing second. And then: “You got your memories back? Well, fuck me.” Wade laughed, something hesitant and unlike him. “Guess that means you remember how much of a fuckup I am, huh?”
Peter walked a little closer to Wade, and Wade held his ground. It was strange to be so close to the man, so close while unmasked, vulnerable in a way he’d never been with the man before. “I do. But I also remember how much I care about you.” He took a step closer. “As a friend.” Another step closer. “Maybe as something more?”
Wade didn’t move as Peter stepped into his space, eyes searching the man’s mask for some kind of sign, a hint as to what was going through his head. An indication that Peter wasn’t about to make the biggest fool out of himself.
Wade only signed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I annoy the hell out of you. I’m pretty sure you hate me.”
“Only some days,” Peter hummed, reaching out a hand to brush against Wade’s. “If I really hated you, I wouldn’t have cried over the thought of you dying.”
“You thought I was dying?”
Peter nodded, gaze faltering as he looked away. “Memories, remember? I never asked before…” A flash of a memory: warm blood and leather crushed beneath his hands. He half-wondered if someone had to have scrubbed the blood off of him afterward. And his uniform. “I don’t want to lose you, Wade. Whether it’s through memories or god forbid death—“
“Not possible,” Wade interrupted, and Peter swatted him with the hand still holding his mask.
“You know what I mean,” he continued, eyes locking on the white of Wade’s mask, hoping he was meeting his eyes. “I like you, Wade. A lot. And I’m sorry I’ve been too much of an ass about it up until now to say anything.”
Wade was silent, the sun finally settling behind them and casting long shadows along the roof. Finally, he said, “Fucking goddammit, kid. I think you’re actually trying to see if you can kill me.” He yanked at his mask, pulling it up just below his nose, like he’d done back in Peter’s bedroom only a few days prior. “I really don’t know what you’re playing at here, but—“
“Can I kiss you?”
Wade only stared as Peter realized what he’d said, eyes still lingering on Wade’s exposed mouth. God, was this really the first time he’d ever thought about…
Wade was laughing now, but it was genuine amusement this time, hand reaching out to grab at Peter’s free one. “You know, I do have a bit of a thing for men with spider like abilities. Helps if they’re kind of cute, too. Maybe a journalist. Got that whole starving artist, boho hobo vibe.”
“Oh?” Peter smiled, raising a brow. “And what if I told you I knew someone who fit all those criteria, and he just so happens to be an Avenger?”
Wade’s grin grew, and his fingers laced easily into Peter’s. “Then I’d say I hit the motherfucking jackpot.”
Peter rolled his eyes as he leaned forward, kissing Wade like it was the only thing he remembered how to do.