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(February) You're my little Valentine
—Calendar Girl, Neil Sedaka
“A word of advice, man. Next time you go to kill someone, don’t dress like a merc,” Peter chimes in, clogging his mouth with chocolate under his mask as he jumps off from the ladder onto the roof only to be faced with another weirdo in red spandex.
“Spidey!” Deadpool cheers as he turns to face Peter, making him pull his mask down over his mouth and stand straight. “What are you doing here?”
“Figured I’d keep the infamous Deadpool in check,” Peter says, leaning on the wall as he looks at Wade. “Deadpool does have a reputation for going crazy on Valentine’s Eve.” Peter is, of course, talking about last year when Deadpool went crazy and by the time Peter got to the bar, half the dead guys were in the middle of the bar, shaping a very ugly heart. Deadpool was in the middle of writing Happy Valentine with bullets on a man’s chest. He was so disappointed that he died in the middle of Happy’s “a”. It was not a sight Peter liked seeing. Granted, they were fucked up people but let’s face it, so was Deadpool.
“I believe you are referring to my masterpiece last year,” Deadpool hummed, rubbing his chin. “I’ll give you that, not my best work. Motherfucker died and I wasn’t even half way through Happy.”
“Yes, how dare he,” Peter rolls his eyes. A shame Deadpool couldn’t see him doing it behind the mask. “After all, people should have the common sense not to die in the middle of being pinned with bullets.”
“I didn’t expect my favorite wallcrawler in the city to make fun of my shitty plan,” Deadpool says, amusement in his voice.
“I’m the only wallcrawler in the city,” Peter deadpans.
“Black Cat is climbing up those ranks pretty quickly, though,” Deadpool shrugs.
“She’s a cat, she doesn’t crawl.”
“She looks so good in spandex though. Black is a sexy color,” Deadpool says matter-of-factly. Peter scoffs, moving away from the wall as he stretches his shoulders and backs.
“Okay, fun is over. I have a date and I don’t plan on staying here chit chatting with you all night,” Peter says. “X-men aren’t all too happy about you recent ravings and I would very much like for them to deal with you, so hands up, pretty boy.”
“Aw, you think I’m pretty,” Deadpool says with a smirk. “Jealous of Black Cat, baby boy?”
“Black Cat is wrapped around my finger,” Peter scoffs, adding, “and very much my ex-girlfriend.” He can feel his cheeks flushing as he says the words. The memory is all too fresh in his head. Their break-up was not pretty.
Deadpool gasps as his hands reach his face dramatically. “I thought I was the only person in spandex for you!”
“You thought wrong,” Peter says, pettiness in his blood as he walks closer to Deadpool. Truth be told, he was the only person in Spandex for Peter for the time being. He liked his muffled voice beneath the mask and he liked his fucked-up humor and he very much liked the look of his butt in that suit. What he did not appreciate was the fact that… Well, Deadpool was essentially a killer and Spider-Man… Well, he was the exact opposite of that. Whatever that meant.
“You hurt my feelings,” Deadpool says, his shoulder hunched dramatically as Peter grabs his waists. He doesn’t fight.
“The only reason I am not taking you to the police instead of X-men is because well, you do kill guys who are worse than you,” Peter says. And the fact that you could escape from the police station in the blink of an eye , he adds inwardly. “So, chop chop. I’ve got a date.”
“As much as I love to keep chatting with your hot piece of ass,” Deadpool says as Peter tries to put his waists in place. “Ooh, I like that. That’s hot — the way you touch me,” — he says in a sing-song voice, Peter tightens his grip, earning a grunt — “okay, not so nice anymore. Yeah, as I was saying, webhead. As much as I’d love to continue this adorable talk, I very much have a date, too. With my dick. So, must dash.”
“Not a chance,” Peter grunts, pulling his hands forwards as Deadpool hisses when Peter’s applied pressure cracks a bone in his hand.
“Bad Spider-Man,” Deadpool tsks, pulling his hands back as Peter grunts under his breath, tangling with Deadpool but before he can web the bastard up, he’s slipping away, standing on the other side of the roof with his hands crossed on his chest. “Itty bitty Spider,” Deadpool chimes.
“Ugh, for fuck’s sake,” Peter says, shooting a web at him that Deadpool dodges with ease and gasps, smirking cheekily. Granted, Peter couldn’t see his smirk but he could feel it on his face. That son a bitch really did get Peter all worked up.
“You said a bad word!” Deadpool exclaims, pointing at Peter. “You kiss your Aunt with that mouth, Mister?”
Aunt? Why did he say Aunt? Peter, frustrated with the man in the red suit (being Deadpool, not himself.) (Okay, maybe a little frustrated with himself, too.) (Because he was distracted. And a little bit jealous.) (And he didn’t know why.) (Okay, maybe he did know why.) (Where was he?). Ah, yes. Peter, frustrated with the man in red suit, shoots forwards as he locks Deadpool’s legs with his web, pressing his back against the wall as his hands force Deadpool’s hands back, their masked faces only inches apart. He can hear himself panting lightly as Deadpool breathes under him, doing nothing
“That’s hot,” Deadpool says and Peter expects mocking, teasing and joking but his low voice sends a shiver up Peter’s spine. “Kinky,” he says, trying to get out of Peter’s web. Well, good luck with that. They won’t dissolve for another hour.
“Shut up,” Peter groans. “C’mon, Pool. Work with me here. Stay in tact for one night and we’ll be fine, right? Even the Avengers aren’t very okay with the fact you are out on Valentine’s after the shit show last year.”
“Ooh, our baby boy’s gotten all grown up, cursing like a professional,” Deadpool teases, making Peter roll his eyes. “Look, Spidey, here’s the thing. I would come with you except I don’t want to. So you either let me go and have my own party — which you are not invited to, party pooper — or we can both cancel our parties and you can Poolsit me tonight. Either way, I am not going to spend the night of love with X-fuckjerks and a cheap porno and my magnificent dick.”
Deadpool sure paints a picture. Peter could try to fight him but they both know that Peter does get hurt and Deadpool doesn’t and honestly, Peter doesn’t like fighting with people who are heroes but not really. Civil war was enough for the entirety of his life. That’s the only reason as he shrugs and lets Deadpool go, breaking the web-locks.
He doesn’t have a date tonight anyways. “Fine,” Peter grunts. “But you owe me for canceling my date.”
“Baby boy, you owe me for not killing anyone tonight,” Deadpool shakes his head, rubbing his wrists. “Murder turns me on in ways porn could never. You got a firm grip, honey.”
“Super strength, remember?” Peter shakes his head. “So what do we do?”
“On Valentine's day? We could —”
“I am not sleeping with you,” Peter says and it’s meant to come out like a joke but the moment it leaves his mouth, it doesn’t sound like it’s a joke. It sounds like it's a bargain and it sends a sad shiver down Peter’s spine and the way Deadpool cocks his head to the side doesn’t help either.
“Don’t shoot it down until you’ve tried it,” Deadpool shrugs as Peter grunts. “You’re in a pissy mood.”
“What can I say? I’m babysitting a merc on Valentine’s night instead of getting laid, so…”
“Honey, you are thinking too much of sex tonight, I’m getting worried about you. Who are you and what have you done with my prude webhead?”
“Shut up, man,” he says but a smirk tugs on his lips nonetheless. “You are a massive pain in my ass, you know that? No wonder X-men don’t try to find you on their own.”
“A massive pain in that tight, bubbly ass. That’s a compliment, baby boy,” Deadpool says, shrugging. “Seriously, though, that suit doesn’t do your ass justice.”
“Glad to know you like my ass,” Peter says dryly.
“You know it’s only polite that you compliment my ass as well,” Deadpool says, “But don’t bother. I am very confident about everything from neck down.”
“Asshole.”
“Sexy bug.”
“Douchebag.”
“Fucking hot.”
“Idiot.”
“That’s mean,” Deadpool says in an exaggerated little girl voice, making Peter chuckle as he shakes his head.
“You do realize that we’ve known each other for almost two years and this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had and yet, we choose to insult each other instead of… talking? Like normal people do?”
“Baby boy, look at the both of us. We are two grown ass men in Red Spandex with secret identities and nothing to do on Valentine’s day. We are not normal people,” Deadpool shrugs. “And FYI, I am not the one insulting. You do that with PG-13 accuracy well enough on your own.”
“See? That was an insult!”
“That was a fact!”
“Asshole.”
“See! Now that was an insult. Hot but an insult nonetheless.”
“Stop flirting with me.”
“Stop wearing tight clothes.”
“It’s my superhero suit!”
“Well, it’s my antihero mind!” Deadpool argues, adding, “And the fact that you are fucking hot.”
“You haven’t even seen my face,” Peter argues. “For all you know, I could look like a mashed potato under this.”
“I’ve seen your lips,” Deadpool shrugs. “And they look nothing like a potato. And honestly, if your body is anything to go by, you’re pretty darn cute.”
“Thank you?” Peter isn’t sure how to respond to that. What do you say in these situations? You’re hot, too? He can’t say that . First of all, because they are coworkers and second of all because he’s Deadpool . He flirts with everyone. Two weeks ago, Peter is pretty sure he gave a bagel the eye before eating it.
“You’re welcome,” Deadpool says it easily as he sits down. Peter doesn’t take long before he slumps next to him and then lies down because his back is killing him. He’s gotten old, he thinks with distaste. Deadpool glances at him before lying down himself, too.
“So, who are you, Deadpool?”
“That’s a very weird question to ask while using my name,” he answers.
“No, I mean, really… like really .”
“Who are you , Spider-Man?”
“I asked first.”
“Well, I asked second.”
“I’m just someone going through the motions, I guess,” Peter admits. He doesn’t really know who he is, if he’s honest. Most of the time, he’s Spider-Man. The rest… he’s supposed to be Peter Parker. But who the hell is Peter Parker?
“Well, then, I am just someone who doesn’t know what the shit they are doing,” Deadpool shrugs. “And more often than not, I like it.”
“Liar.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t seem like you like it,” Peter says matter-of-factly. “Neither do I but like, it’s life. You gotta do what you gotta do.”
“I guess so,” Deadpool shrugs. “It’s a never ending fuckery show. All you can really do is get to the top of the shit in life, right?”
“Right.” Peter mumbles. “It’s hard, though, sometimes.”
“Always.”
“Huh?”
“It’s always hard — not just sometimes.”
“You do realize you used the word hard and you didn’t make a joke about it?”
“Didn’t I?” Deadpool says, his face turning to face Peter and suddenly, Peter feels like he’s on fire. He hasn’t felt on fire for a very very long time. He isn’t sure what it even means to be on fire. He just knows that he really really wants to kiss Deadpool when he’s talking to him like this. Like he knows what he’s doing. Like he doesn’t have his shit together but it’s not important because having your shit together is overrated. “Anyways, who cares about fucking life? Living is overrated, you know.”
“I don’t think so,” Peter says and suddenly, he isn’t lying on the floor anymore. He’s leaning up on his arm and he’s looking at Deadpool and he knows he can’t see his eyes behind the mask but he looks at him, searching his soul with his eyes as if he can see anything behind the mask. “If you weren’t alive, you wouldn’t be here.”
“But it’s because I can’t die.”
“I’m pretty sure we’ll find a way to kill you,” Peter shrugs, his voice falling low. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do now. He guesses he wants to lean in and he wants to pull up Deadpool’s mask just enough. And then he wants to pull up his own mask just enough and then… he wants to kiss him. His hands reach forward as Deadpool stiffens in his place.
“What are you doing?” he whispers.
“Shhh,” Peter orders. “Have you tried kissing a Spider?”
“Huh?”
“Finding a way to die — have you tried kissing a Spider?”
Deadpool doesn’t answer as Peter pulls his mask up just enough. Pool lets out a soft No as Peter pulls his mask up and he doesn’t know if he’s saying “no” to the question or to this whole ordeal. He isn’t sure if he cares. He’s going to kiss Deadpool either way. His skin isn’t smooth. It’s wrinkly like it’s burned and Peter expects to be taken back by it but he isn’t. It doesn’t really matter because his chapped lips seem pretty kissable. “Still want to help me kiss a Spider?”
“Hmm,” Peter mutters. He can’t even understand what’s going on so he decides not to try too hard to do it. It’s Valentine’s night and he refuses to not kiss anyone that night because after so many years, he deserves to kiss someone who thinks his ass is hot. “Still thinking my ass looks hot in my suit?”
“Very.”
“Then, I’m still going to help you kiss a spider.” Peter says, his voice husky even to his own ears. His lips touch Deadpool’s softly, experimenting how it feels before going any further. His lips are dry but so are Peter’s. He sinks further, just slightly before their lips properly start moving against each other and then, Deadpool pulls away.
“Wait.”
“What?” Peter pulls away quickly, looking at Deadpool with concerned eyes. Was it not good? It’s been a while since Peter’s kissed anyone, and he’s not sure if he’s done it right.
“You aren’t like, underage or anything?”
Peter flinches, pulling back completely as he sits, rolling his eyes. Okay, granted, he’s not kissed anyone in a long time but it couldn’t have been that bad. Underage bad. “ No, ” Peter spits the words out. “And it wasn’t underage bad, you asshole. The awkward angle does not help while you are kissing someone and —”
“Shut up,” Deadpool whispers before pulling Peter down so he’s on top of Pool and pulling him in for a kiss. This time, it’s not careful, calculating or anything like the half-assed touch of lips from earlier. Deadpool is a much better kisser than Peter, he can give him that. He pulls on Peter’s lips like he’s starving. Like he is thirsty and Peter’s the most water he’s had in a long time. Peter likes it. He gives in, opening his mouth as Deadpool’s tongue slithers into his mouth, kissing like their lives depend on it. He’s running out of breath and he doesn’t even want to pull away. He is good where he is.
“Goddamn Spider-Man,” Deadpool pants breathlessly when they finally pull away, their breaths shaky against each other as Peter stands up, sure that if they touch again, he is going to melt.
“Happy Valentine’s day, Deadpool,” Peter says, “Guess it’s no longer Valentine’s Eve. I better go, then.” He walks to the edge of the building, getting ready to jump off before Deadpool calls his name out one again,
“Spidey,” he says, making Peter stop as he turns to face Deadpool. “You are a good kisser.”
“You aren’t so rusty yourself,” Peter shrugs. “See you around, Deadpool.”
“See you around, baby boy,” Deadpool says and as Peter flies into New York, he knows he’s smiling like an idiot because of that stupid ass nickname.