Chapter Text
5:17 pm Astoria, Queens
“Why leave so fast? You’ve got an account to settle!”
Spider-Man kicked the man back against the wall. The robber dropped his duffle bag of cash on the pavement. The alarm system of the bank was still whirling lights and sounds around them like a kid going crazy with a yoyo, but it was not so loud as to cover the whoop of glee from behind him.
“OH SNAP!” called the familiar voice. Spider-Man whipped around. The merc with a mouth was leaned up against a streetlight. His mask was rolled up to his nose as he tossed buttered popcorn in his mouth.
“Deadpool?” Spider-man asked.
“Hiya, Spidey! Thought I’d catch my favorite Saturday morning cartoons.” Deadpool grinned. The rough scar sliced across his lips only made his smile more crooked and mischievous. Spider-Man rolled his eyes. He had only run into the merc once before while busting an arms deal, enough to quickly be acquainted with his endless quips and odd neurosis.
“You want to help?” Spider-Man asked as he shot webbing to secure the kicked man to the wall before he come back swinging. Of course, Spider-Man didn’t need help. But this scene was hitting home just how much more weight he was having to pull around in this town full of lazy superhumans to get some sense of justice on the streets.
“Sure. You missed one,” Deadpool said, pointing to the second man who was trying to escape into the getaway car.
“I didn’t miss one,” Spider-Man scowled and shot webbing that pinned the second man’s hand to his car door, too far to reach the handle with the key. Deadpool raised a hand up in apology before using it to scoop a large handful into his mouth.
“Can’t believe they didn’t have a getaway driver. What amateurs,” he said.
“Can’t believe you’re not their getaway driver,” Spider-Man retorted.
Deadpool burst into laughter, nearly choking on his popcorn. Kernels and spittle were coughed onto the sidewalk in between gasps and “good one, Spidey.” Spider-man looked to the bank for a sign on the door. Maybe he could bring Deadpool in for loitering…
“No, no, no. I just came to see the show,” Deadpool explained.
“The show?” Spider-man asked with a cross of his arms.
“Yeah! Ka-Pow! Kick! Wham! Pirouette!” Popcorn was tumbling on to the sidewalk as Deadpool acted out his exclamations. Now he was walking about on his toes like a ballerina. Unbelievable. Spider-Man thought.
Two police cars with sirens were pulling up on the block, relieving him. Thank God.
“Well as much as I’d like to keep ‘friendly’ in the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man name, I’ve got to go patrol town and fight crime.” Spider-Man punched the last two words out as he said them, still irritated at Deadpool’s laid back, devil may care attitude towards his powers. He turned to leave before Deadpool could reply.
The Merc simply shouted after him. “Don’t worry! It’s just as much a show when you walk away!”
Spider-Man flicked him off without turning back before shooting a web to swing off into the city.
Two days later. 3:45 pm Midtown East
“Maybe black and diamonds go together, but this isn’t Breakfast at Tiffany’s!” Spider-Man said swinging a punch at a thief in dark clothing outside the iconic jewelry store.
“Oh my boy’s got the movie references too!” A voice called out. Deadpool.
Spider-Man looked back to see Deadpool sitting on the hood of the car, legs swinging merrily, this time with a bag of peanuts in his hand.
“How is it you always know where to find the crime scene?” Spider-Man asked before kicking a gun out of a robber’s hand.
“Oh, I hear the dudes plotting in Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children,” he said with a devilish relish.
“Why don’t you report them to the police? Someone could have gotten hurt!” Spider-Man subdued the last of the diamond thieves and was now webbing them together for the police.
“Oh no one would have gotten hurt silly! Spider-Man always saves the day!” Deadpool declared gleefully, raising his arms and kicking out his legs in theatrics to make a star. An arc of peanuts rained down on the windshield behind him. Spider-Man resisted the urge to face palm. Why did his life have to be so unnecessarily hard? The face palm urge was becoming tougher to resist as, words not being enough, Deadpool was now pelting him with peanuts.
“Why are you throwing peanuts at me?” Spider-Man asked, catching them on instinct before letting them drop from his hand onto the sidewalk.
“Because you did a good job! You got all the bad guys. You deserve a snack.” Spider-Man huffed in irritation, and shot a web at Deadpool’s bag of peanuts, and yanked it into his hands. This theft only seemed to make the merc more giddy. “Ha! Knew he would like the peanuts. Didn’t we say he’d like peanuts?” Deadpool said to himself. Shows what he knows, Spider-Man thought, and tipped the bag over.
“HEY!” Deadpool crouched to ground picking them up. Five second rule! At least they’re still in the shell. “Police! I would like to report a crime.” Deadpool said, a handful of peanuts clutched to his chest as he continued to pick the rest up with his left hand. Spider-Man snorted with laughter. “Spider-Man is bullying me! Ooo just wait until the Daily Bugle finds out.”
“Like you haven’t taken a hit on one of their investigative journalists before,” Spider-Man said with a cross of his arms.
“Actually I don’t take hits on civilians. Which includes reporters. So your number one dork fan boy Parker is safe. Well, maybe not in the number one dork fan boy spot…” Deadpool started to say to himself.
Hmm. Spider-Man didn’t know Deadpool had any rules. He was notorious for shootouts with gangs, traffickers, and arm dealers. Maybe he put thought into his jobs and didn’t just go with the highest bidders. Maybe Deadpool has…morals?? Three dimensions?? A disturbing thought.
The police arrived and began to arrest the thieves, clicking handcuffs over the webbing just to make a point. Probably directed at him. Spider-Man never stayed this long at crime scenes. He didn’t like the suspicious thanks he got from the people in blue. Deadpool had gotten him distracted. Why was he still hanging out with the merc anyway? “I gotta run,” Spider-Man started to say.
“You mean web. You leave the running to us mere mortals,” Deadpool retorted and stood upright again, having gathered the remaining peanuts.
“If the things I hear about you are true, you can hardly call yourself that,” Spider-Man said. He had been filled in on Deadpool by the avengers as a potential threat that frequented the five boroughs. The report that Deadpool could regenerate back from the dead set the hero’s science-inclined braining spin. Although there was something a little sad about that too, he couldn’t quite place.
“True true,” Deadpool replied interrupting Spider-Man’s thoughts. The mercenary absentmindedly crushed a peanut between his gloved fingers. The shell made a satisfying soft cracking sound at the pressure.
“Thanks for not being the getaway driver again, I guess,” Spider-Man said, caught between being polite and snarky, so it came out sounding strangely genuine. Deadpool tilted his head as he looked at him. “Yeah, bye,” Spider-Man said quickly. He turned and flicked webbing from his wrist, gliding off to the applause...
A pattern soon followed over the next three weeks. Small and spontaneous crimes like muggings, Spider-Man stopped unobserved. But anything premeditated and spectacular, he was bound to hear a whoop in the not-far-enough-away distance. At first, it only deepened his irritation with the merc. But he soon began to give way to the giddy laughter of Deadpool after a particular zing of Spider-Man’s. Spider-Man’s quips had started as a way to calm his nerves, and give him confidence in the superhero business. The thieves obviously never appreciated it, too busy trying to escape or take him out with a gun. Any victim was too shocked to remember a word he said. If he was teamed up with the Avengers, they simply barked instructions at him. It was so strange now having someone around who would react to his jokes and throws.
It made him remember softball games. Playing on a team as a little kid before his powers made sports impossible. How his friends in the dugout would cheer as he took to the plate. How Uncle Ben would cheer, just as loud and proud as any of the parents, no, louder by a long shot… He hadn’t even known how much he missed that. It was a space in his chest he didn’t even realize was there until Deadpool turned up shrieking like an enthusiastic maniac and throwing ballpark food at him. Today it was nachos.
“Gross,” Spider-Man said as the yellow cheese and chips plopped on the ground next to him.
“Sorry. I just lost the sauce when you caught the guy by the ankle as he turned the corner. I was for sure certain you were gonna have to chase him down.”
Spider-Man checked his legs to make sure none of the said sauce splashed up on his only suit. Deadpool continued his chatter. “When are you finally gonna get dinner with me instead of just letting me throw food at you?”
“I’m not letting you throw food at me,” Spider-Man scowled.
“Well, zookeepers in the past have been much more aggressive towards my desire to share sustenance with other living beings than you,” Deadpool said.
“That’s because zookeepers are paid to keep the animals safe from cretins like you. I don’t get paid at all.”
“All the more reason for you to let me buy you dinner!” Deadpool sang in response. “Honestly, I feel like I should be paying an admission ticket to see those flips.”
“You just want to feed me, so you can keep me around longer.” Spiderman said, already walking away. “I’m not a stray.” It was annoying having food thrown at him all the time. It made him hungry against his will!
“Obviously. Spiders aren’t domesticated. Or I guess tarantulas are. You weren’t bitten by a tarantula were you? No no white’s right. Then he’d be bigger than me,” Deadpool muttered.
White. That gave him pause. Spider-Man had heard around the block that Deadpool had head voices. He didn’t know they had names. It made him feel like, damn, Deadpool really didn’t have anyone to talk to. It made him almost say yes to the dinner invite out of pity. But Spider-Man knew from experience pitying eyes were the worst. He’d grown up around them from the time he’d had to bring Aunt May or Uncle Ben to his first bring your Mom or Dad to school day. Peter had coasted through those morose gazes without much notice as a kid. He was more interested in playing on the playground than trying to understand adults. It wasn’t until Uncle Ben died that the eyes around him became piercing in their greed to know what was going on in his private thoughts, his most personal feelings. Everyone was suddenly tuning in on the world of Peter as its messiness became public knowledge. And when he came out as trans, they seemed to shake their heads. Why are you doing this to yourself? Isn’t your life hard enough? Spider-Man didn’t want to prod at Deadpool’s problems that were so obviously lurking under the surface for curiosity’s sake. He also didn’t want to offer a gesture of friendship either if it wasn’t genuine. But he could soften his stance. See Deadpool as less annoying. His cheering was kind of fun. It made crime fighting almost fun again.
“I really can’t today.” Spider-Man felt a twinge of guilt. He couldn’t even make time for Aunt May these days. “But I’ll see you around the neighborhood, yeah?”
“Okay! Fun times. See you next Friday!”
“What’s happening on Friday?” Spider-Man asked. Deadpool only laughed. “Deadpool! What’s happening on--!” Deadpool bolted away. Spider-Man sighed. At least he knew to cancel on his coffee catch-up with MJ now.