Chapter Text
Death clung to Peter consuming everyone and everything he ever cared about. Anyone who got close enough to know him, to know him in his entirety. First his parents, then uncle ben, then Gwen Stacy and her father, the police chief. If Peter Parker were to look back at his life, the words would be written in the chiseled stone of the lined gravestones at the cemeteries he continued to visit even in his old age. His daily routine of traveling to visit dead relatives, friends, enemies, and heroes. Somehow he managed 60 years of crime fighting without an untimely death. And now he would spend the rest of it rotting away in a nursing home. At first, he had tried to make friends at the place, attending bingo nights and card game nights, but all the people he met seemed to pass away all too soon, just adding another grave to visit on his pilgrimage to all the people he had lost.
The only thing that seemed to cling more tightly to him than death itself was the pervasive Deadpool. Who had somehow managed to wind up at the same nursing home as him. He always suspected that Deadpool only moved into green hills retirement and assisted living home to follow him, just as he had followed Spiderman from rooftop to rooftop all those years ago on patrol. His suspicions were pretty much confirmed when Deadpool moved into the place five years after Peter had and seemed to make a beeline to his isolated spot in the back of the bingo hall.
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In all the years of knowing Deadpool, he never seemed to age a day, so despite being older than every resident in green hills retirement and assisted living home, he stood out immediately, looking more like one of the staff than one of the residents. If Peter didn’t immediately recognize the pockmarked face of Wade Wilson, He would have asked him for a second bingo card and possibly another pudding cup as Wade slid into the seat next to him.
“Mind if I sit here? I’m the new resident. I just moved into room 134.”
“You don’t look like the type that would be in this place.”
“Hey, I’m a lot older than you, baby boy. Immortality is a bitch, and these places are a lot cheaper than an apartment, plus room service, food service, and a tv screen playing reruns of old shows. What more could a man ask for?”
“A place that doesn’t smell of antiseptic and death, maybe? And even if you're older than me, I am far from being a baby.”
“Tomato to-mat-to!” Wade said, making ludicrous hand gestures, “You just seem like a baby boy. The nickname suits you.” A dangerous glint in his eyes confirmed that somehow the masked mercenary had finally figured out where the retired spider man had ended up.
Spiderman had somehow managed to keep his identity a secret from Wade all these years, managed to keep the compelling and charismatic mercenary at arm's length. Kept himself isolated and kept the people around him safe. However, few people it ended up being. Peter thought he might have been more panicked at the fact that Deadpool knew his secret but at this point, it wasn’t as much of a secret as it was another dead body that littered his past. So Peter responded with a smile, “I suppose the nickname does suit me, I used to know someone who called me the same thing way back when I could fit into spandex.”
“Really?” Wade asked, but it wasn’t actually a question “Seems like an awesome guy.”
“We had our ups and downs. Now be quiet. My hearing isn’t what it used to be, and I’m dead-set on winning bingo one of these nights.”
And for years, that was the most they ever talked about their lives as masked vigilantes.
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“Where do you go all day? I rarely see you around here.”
“I Visit some people.”
“Every day?”
“Get’s me out of the place, moving around. Doctors say it's good for me. Granted, at this point, my knees are giving me hell.”
“Yeah?”
“What? Did you think the wheelchair Nurse Molly brought me was just for show? By the end of this year, I suspect I’ll be living in it.”
“Well, maybe the people could pick you up. Instead of you going to them.”
“They aren’t that kind of people.”
“Oh.”
“I Don't have anyone left that isn’t buried 6 ft in the dirt.” Peter looked out the window. The sun was high in the sky, and the leaves gently rustled in the wind a chickadee landed on one of the bird feeders before fluttering away into a bush.
“You’ve got me,” Wade said quietly, as if he spoke the words too loud, they would shatter.
“I suppose I do.” for the first time since he had checked himself into the retirement home, Peter smiled. Glad he didn’t have to be alone. They stared at each other, and Peter let a sort of fondness that he had suppressed for so many years bubble to the surface as he held Wade's eyes. Eventually, Wade looked back down at the cards spread out on the table,
“Go fish.”
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“You can’t kill her, Wade!”
“Why not? She’s a cheating skank.”
“Cheating at bingo is not a killable offense. God, I can’t believe I have to have this argument with you.”
“She also hogs the television and hates the golden girls.”
“Oh, well, now you have a point.”
“Really?”
“No. Shut up. I’m trying to play solitaire, emphasize on solitude.”
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“You’ve been here more often lately.”
“It's been harder to get out there with a wheelchair.”
“I could help you.”
“No, I don’t want to be a burden, besides you have better things to do with your time than just endlessly sifting through my past.”
“I assure you I’m rotting away in this place the same as you are. I don’t have anything to do here. Let me help you.”
“No, really, it's fine.”
“You always wanted to help others but can't ask for help yourself. Stop being a hypocrite Petey- and let me help you.” Wade moved his hand and gently set it over top of Peters on the table.
“Ok, fine. We can head out there tomorrow. It’s going to be dinner time soon.”
“It’s not like you’re the only person to have people to visit out there. We can both sift through the past together.”
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It was a lovely day. The cool winds swept through the trees bringing a soft crinkle of leaves and the occasional bird song to the cemetery. In the back of the cemetery, an old man in a wheelchair sat staring at a gravestone as a taller man stood behind him, leaning on the back of the wheelchair and peering over Peter’s shoulder.
“So, who is this?”
“The green goblin.”
“Didn’t he kill your aunt?”
“Yeah, but he’s still a part of my past. Still, another person that I failed to save.”
“Did you forget that he literally killed your aunt? I really don’t get why you feel the need to leave him a flower.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it just indicates that I was here. I don’t have to leave the flower if you don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“I don’t care what you do, Petey-pie. You’re your own man, do what you want.”
“I’m going to leave the flower.”
“Alright. Now it's time to visit my people that are in this graveyard.” Wade wheeled Peter around until they found themselves before a very fancy gravestone. One that seemed much nicer than most of the other stones in the cemetery.
“Ellie Wilson,” Peter read. “A sister?”
“A daughter.” Wade corrected.
“I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t even know she existed until she was five years old and basically dumped at my doorstep. I tried my best, Petey. I really did. I was gunning to be the best Dadpool I could be. Even quit with all the mercenary jobs for a while. I really tried my best. But I had a target on my back, and since I can’t die, they just moved the target to someone that could.”
“Did you get them?”
“I thought you were against killing.”
“At this age, I’ve decided I should start making exceptions.”
Wade's laugh was laced with grief. “Yeah, I got them.”
They looked at the gravestones in silence for a while. The only sound was the rush of distant traffic, the buzz of small insects, and the wind in the trees.
“Thanks for taking me to see them, Wade.”
“No problemo Petey.”
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Death clung to Peter consuming everyone and everything he ever cared about. If Peter Parker were to look back at his life, the words would be written in the chiseled stone of the lined gravestones at the cemeteries he continued to visit. And now he was looking at one that reflected his own name back to him. Somehow he managed 60 years of crime fighting without an untimely death. And 20 years he spent rotting away in a nursing home. It was a good life, a long one. And when he got the cancer diagnosis, he didn’t even feel all that sad. The only person who would be there to mourn him was Wade. But Wade had all eternity in front of him, so he knew Peter Parker would fade into nothing for him with time. He would get over it. He had to. The doctors had given him four months. One hundred twenty-two days to get all his affairs in order.
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“Do you ever knock?”
“All the other old people are so boring, Petey-pie; Besides, I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”
“It's not like I can really avoid you, Wade; this retirement home isn’t big enough for that.”
“But you've been trying.”
Peter was silent.
“So what is so super secret you can’t let your bestest oldest friend about.”
“It's nothing, Wade. Just drop it.”
Wade wandered around the room, stopping by the desk and picking up half-filled out papers.
“Last will and testament…Petey… why do you have this.”
“Doctors told me I should get my affairs in order.”
“what- why- no.”
“It was going to happen eventually. Same cancer as you, only I don’t think I’ll be making the kind of spectacular recovery you did.” Peter said with a smile, but Wade just stared blankly at the paper, his eyes glazed over, not processing the words on the page in front of him, all the horrible realities slotting into place in his mind.
“Wade? You ok?”
“How long do I have?”
“What?”
“How long do you have left? I need to know.”
“Three months now. Found out about a month ago.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Shit.”