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Weasel was having a pretty regular night.
Until Wade came in in full Deadpool gear. This didn't cause a stir among the patrons as one might expect, though. Everyone here is used to Deadpool and other associated vigilantes being around. Weasel would bet that half the patrons even know that Deadpool is Wade, although he knows they'd never tell. Hitmen know better than to rat someone out.
No, what caused the commotion was the fact that inching in behind Deadpool like a lost child was Spider-Man. Anyone in their right mind knows that Sister Margaret's isn't exactly where you'd go to catch a glimpse of Spider-Man. He tends to stay in Queens, although he has been spotted around New York with different vigilantes and superhero teams.
So he supposes that Spider-Man showing up here isn't the weirdest thing in the world, considering he and Wade have been teaming up lately, especially with Daredevil over in Hell's Kitchen. Honestly Weasel had been kind of hoping Wade would bring him around some time. He's a Spidey fan, sue him . But no matter who's escorting him in, the bright red of Spidey's suit makes it obvious he doesn't belong in the dingy old bar.
"DP," Weasel greets when the two sit at the bar counter. He's drying a cup with an old rag in classic bartender fashion. Spider-Man is hunched over a bit, glancing around at the different patrons. It's obvious he's more than a little nervous around them. It's almost funny to Weasel--these guys are basically his family. But logically he knows that very few people would look at his family and think the same.
"Spidey, fancy seeing you around here," Weasel continues, "What brings you two to Sister Margaret's?"
"This total nerd here broke some of his tech," Wade says, "I figured you might have some spare parts he can use."
Weasel sets the rag down and puts the cup with the others underneath the counter. "Lucky for you, I do," he says, "What do you need fixed?"
"Oh, just my web shooters," Spidey says. He sounds nervous, and also pretty young? Weasel quickly realizes he has no idea how old Spidey is, and that Wade has referred to him as "kid" on several occasions. "And I can fix them myself, I just need some parts."
"Alright then, follow me."
Weasel comes out from behind the counter and leads Spidey down the hall to one of the back rooms. Some of the doors that shouldn't be closed are, so he walks past them quicker than usual. Either someone's having sex or beating someone up (or both) and he doesn't have to get involved with either situation. He gets to the last room at the end of the hall, a room he's probably spent longer in than he has at his own apartment, building weapons and machines and fixing people's things, namely Wade's.
"Welcome to casa de a fuckton of weapons," Weasel says, opening up the several buckets of unused parts he's got in here. Spidey peers into them, digging through the top layers and coming up with small pieces of plastic and scrap metal. He reminds Weasel of a very polite racoon.
"So what was it again you need to fix?"
"Uh, my web shooters." He raises his arm and shows what looks like a black metal bracelet on his wrist. Huh. So the webs don't come from him.
"Can I see it?"
Spidey looks at him for a few seconds before nodding. He presses a small button that separates the metal and allows him to pull it off. He places it in Weasel's hand, who holds it up to the light.
"I, uh, I push that trigger there to release the webs," Spidey says, fiddling with his fingers, "But the trigger on that one is broken so I can only release the webs from my other one."
"Huh." Looking closely at it, the thing is expertly assembled. The trigger, a small button extending from the bracelet part, is definately fucked up, though.
"And you made this?" Weasel asks, looking back up at Spidey.
"Um. Yeah."
"How old did you say you were again?"
Spidey pauses. "Wade... didn't tell you?"
"No, but he has called you a kid, and fuck if you don't sound like one. But these shooters are such expertly crafted pieces of tech."
"Oh, thank you! And uh, I'm 16."
Weasel almost drops the shooter. "You're 16 ? Spider-Man is 16?" He exclaims.
"Uh, yeah? Please don't let anyone else hear-"
" Fuck , dude! You've got to be some kind of super genius!"
Weasel can't exactly tell because of the mask, but Spidey seems bashful as he stammers out a quick " thank you ".
Spidey takes back the broken shooter and immediately starts sizing up different pieces of scrap metal. Weasel watches as he makes use of the different tools around the room, hesitantly testing his boundaries. Weasel is in pure awe. A six-fucking-teen year old is the one doing this in front of him. Sure, he probably could have fixed up something like this in a junior year robotics class, but that doesn't take away from the fact that this kid made this tech all on his own.
After about half an hour Spidey is done, and he puts on the shooter to test it. A web shoots from his wrist and attaches to an empty water bottle across the room. Using the web almost like a yoyo he manages to get the bottle to his hand and breaks off the web.
Speaking of the web, Weasel is amazed at it up close. It looks like a spider's web, but incredibly thick. He's definitely going to ask Spidey a million questions about how he develops his artificial webbing.
"Uh, hey," Spidey says, and Weasel turns to look at his face. Well, mask, but still. "You make Wade's stuff, right?"
"Usually yeah," he replies, "Why?"
"You should replace exactly half his ammo with glitter capsules."
Weasel stares, feeling his eyes start to well up. He always wanted a little brother.
Ten minutes later, Deadpool leaves Sister Margaret's with Spider-Man and a lecture on good god, Wade, do not let anything happen to this child or I will find a way to permakill you . Apparently, Weasel is not the only person to have given this lecture--Spider-Man is basically the golden child of the New York vigilantes.
"Trust me," Wade had said, "if I let that kid get hurt you're not gonna be the only one with my name on a shiny gold card."
Weasel will never have a regular night after this. From now on it's "bad nights" and "nights Spider-Man was here".