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One of those universally acknowledged truths is that developing feelings for your best friend has the destructive power of a small nuclear bomb. It blasts apart perfectly good friendships and leaves nothing but smoldering regrets in its wake. About a gazillion people have made the same stupid mistake, and only about half of them have come out on the other side unscathed.
Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool, knows this. He’s not a complete fool. Yet, here he is, staring at his best friend and his stupid masked face and realizing that maybe, just maybe, he’s a little bit in love.
Curse Spider-Man, his wit, courage, and perfect butt.
In Wade’s defense, he would have to be blind and deaf not to fall for Spidey because he’s pretty much perfect in every way. It’s almost unfair. Deadpool never stood a chance.
However, not all is lost. Deadpool is an optimist at heart. They get along with Spider-Man. They’re friends. Spider-Man clearly likes him because he wouldn’t put up with Deadpool’s bullshit otherwise. In there, somewhere, lies an opportunity because being in love with your best friend isn’t a disaster if the feeling is mutual.
Therefore, Deadpool has come up with a Plan. It goes something like this: Ask Spidey out, romance him until he’s wholly and truly won over, and then tumble him into bed once he’s amenable. Then, possibly marry him or something, but that’s a problem for a later date. Best to keep it simple for now.
Thus, Deadpool gathers his courage and says, “Hey, Spidey?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re pretty cool. We should go grab a bite. Tacos or something.”
Spider-Man turns to look at him.
“I’m not really hungry,” he says. “Maybe some other time.”
Was that a gentle rejection? Wade cannot say. Then he realizes that half of their friendship is based on takeaway food eaten on rooftops, so maybe Spider-Man misunderstood. Deadpool wracks his brain for something that they don’t do regularly, but that would be date-y enough to get the message across.
The answer is rather obvious.
“Wanna go see a movie with me?” he asks.
Spider-Man shakes his head. “I still have to finish my patrol.”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” Deadpool nods.
Maybe his timing isn’t the best. Spidey is all duty when it comes to some things. He’d naturally prioritize superheroing above a date. But it’s not a ‘no’, which is encouraging. Wade will try again later at a more opportune time.
Spider-Man is oblivious to Deadpool’s musings and says, “If you’re bored, you could come with me.”
“Nah, it’s cool. Go do your thing,” Deadpool replies. “Heroics aren’t really my style. One good deed, and I break out in hives.”
Spider-Man gives him an unimpressed look.
“I know that somewhere deep down you’re secretly a good guy, ‘Pool,” he says. “You don’t fool me.”
“Tell that to all the people I’ve shot. They might disagree,” Deadpool replies before he remembers that he’s not supposed to bring that up with Spider-Man, who very loudly and publicly objects against all shooting.
“I know for a fact that you haven’t shot anyone in ages. Shot at someone maybe, but that hardly counts,” Spidey insists.
He’s right.
Spider-Man wields disapproval and disappointment like weapons, and against them, Deadpool is defenseless. Shooting bad guys just isn’t the same when he knows he’d be letting Spidey down with every shot he takes. He’s definitely not a good guy by anyone’s standards, but for Spidey, he’s willing to try to be better.
For Spider-Man, he’s willing to do a lot of things.
…
A week later, a heat wave has settled over New York. It renders the criminals and supervillains of New York sluggish and inactive, so Spider-Man grows bored and restless. He complains about it to Deadpool loudly and frequently.
“I’m so bored,” he says for a millionth time, “It’s driving me insane.”
Deadpool is smart enough to recognize an opportunity when it’s staring him in the face.
“I could take you out,” he says, hopeful.
Spider-Man snorts an inelegant laugh. “Like hell, you could. I’d totally kick your ass one on one. Besides, it’s too damn hot to fight.”
Wade doesn’t facepalm, but it’s a close thing. “Not like that. Not physically.”
“Like what then?” Spider-Man asks, sounding still amused. “Metaphysically?”
“Romantically,” Deadpool spells it out because Spider-Man is being especially obtuse.
Spider-Man laughs so hard that he nearly falls off the roof.
“Oh, yeah, you would think one one-on-one combat is romantic,” he wheezes. “Does shooting at someone count as flirting to you?”
“I could shoot at you,” Deadpool offers because he’s totally up to flirting through violence if that’s what Spider-Man understands.
Spider-Man raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll pipe down. No need to resort to threats.”
Deadpool only sighs.
…
Spider-Man was nothing but justly suspicious when he first encountered Deadpool. He’d heard rumors, maybe, or had some secret Avenger intel, but he knew Deadpool’s name and reputation straight from the get-go. In turn, what little Deadpool knew of Spider-Man came from the Daily Bugle, so his expectations when it came to the arachnid hero were incredibly low. It was not a very successful first meeting and definitely not love at first sight.
But they kept running into each other after that and it slowly became obvious that while Spider-Man was a superhero through and through, he wasn’t one of those serious, stuffy ones. When Deadpool made fun of him, Spidey gave back as good as he got. His sense of humor was sharp-edged and right up Deadpool’s alley. He was easy to like from the start.
Over time, the scathing insults turned into fond quips. Deadpool didn’t just run into Spider-Man anymore; he actively sought him out. They shared rooftops, jokes, and sandwiches until it was difficult to remember that they had ever been anything other than friends.
…
“We’re friends, right?” Deadpool asks.
It’s heartwarming how quickly and easily Spider-Man replies, “Yeah, we are.”
“Would you like to be more than friends?”
Spider-Man looks confused. “Like best friends?”
“No, not like best friends, don’t be stupid.”
“Us being best friends is stupid?” Spider-Man asks, clearly devastated. Deadpool feels immediately like trash and the worst human being ever to walk the earth.
“No! Of course, we’re best friends,” he hurries to say because it’s true, and it’s a relief that Spider-Man thinks so too. “You’re my favorite person.”
“Oh, okay. You’re my favorite person, too,” Spider-Man replies, and Deadpool melts a little. Stupid feelings. They have turned him into a real wimp.
“Then what are you trying to say?” Spider-Man asks next.
“We could be more. Partners? Soulmates? Lov—”
Spider-Man snorts a laugh.
“Soulmates? What is this? A crappy fanfiction?”
Deadpool sighs. “Yes, it really is.”
Disheartening. But still not a rejection. There is hope.
…
Either Wade is getting blown off, or Spider-Man is way dumber than he has thought. Wade is pretty sure that it isn’t the first. Spider-Man is fair above all else and wouldn’t just string Deadpool along for the fun of it. He’d be upfront if he weren’t interested.
Which only leaves the second option.
Spider-Man is smart; Wade knows this for a fact. With his big brain and quick mind, Spidey is almost scary smart, and someday, he’ll be a hotshot scientist or something because he’s just that clever. But he appears to be on the slow side when it comes to dating and romance.
Maybe he has crippling self-esteem issues, and it hasn’t even crossed his mind that someone might be into him. Maybe he’s a blushing virgin. Maybe he’s asexual. Aromantic. Something like that. For some reason, he just doesn’t seem to get what Deadpool is trying to say with each (somewhat desperate) attempt at asking him out.
The Plan is simple, but it relies on the crucial first step: successfully asking Spidey out. That’s turning out to be even more of a challenge than Wade first thought, and for wholly unexpected reasons.
Luckily, while Deadpool is many things, he’s not a quitter.
…
“Hey, Spidey, what’s your number?”
“What number? Body count? I don’t kill people, you know that."
“Really not what I meant.”
“Well, I’m not going to tell you how many people I’ve slept with either, trust me.”
And that is the story of how Deadpool failed to get Spidey’s phone number. But one setback doesn’t ruin the whole plan.
…
Spider-Man is so bright that sometimes it hurts to look at him. He’s simply good. He genuinely believes in justice and equality. He’s dependable and kind to his very core. He’s never judgmental or cruel. He’s the kind of person who walks old grandmas across the street and feeds his lunch to stray cats. Just being in his presence makes Deadpool want to do better and be better. Being friends with him should be enough because getting to bask in that goodness is probably more than Deadpool deserves.
It isn’t enough.
The more time Deadpool spends with Spidey, the hungrier he gets for more. He wants everything from him: his attention, kindness, body, and soul. He knows that it’s probably greedy, but then call him greedy. When it comes to Spider-Man, nothing less than everything will satisfy him.
…
“We should go out sometime, Webs."
“What are you on about? We are outside.”
“Look at that, so we are. How silly of me.”
…
It is true that Wade has no idea who Spider-Man is. Probably, he could find out quite easily (he is a professional mercenary, after all) but chooses not to. If Spider-Man doesn’t want to reveal his identity, then Wade will respect that.
Besides, Wade likes Spider-Man. He likes the confidence, the mystery, the bravery, the whole superhero package. But more importantly, even without a name or a face, Spider-Man feels real. There is a real person behind that mask, someone who laughs, hurts, and angers. That person is too vibrant to be concealed behind a mask. He shines through the superheroic veneer, and it is that person that Deadpool is quite smitten with.
Even if Wade never finds out Spider-Man’s name, it doesn’t make it any less real.
…
“Hey, Spides, asking for a friend, but what would be your ideal date?”
“The first of September. Fall is my favorite season.”
“…Right. Cool.”
…
Deadpool isn’t one for heroics, but boy, does he enjoy watching Spider-Man do his thing. Spider-Man is a real superhuman, and he fights like one, too: strong, fast, and fearless. Spider-Man has been active for years, and his experience has rendered him brutally efficient in a fight. There’s something graceful about Spidey, and he’s easy on the eyes, so it is a pure pleasure to watch him whoop supervillain ass.
Still, there’s some part of Wade that wants to interfere. The villains Spider-Man fights are relentless and not averse to killing. Just the idea of one of them succeeding sucks the air from Deadpool’s lungs and makes him feel like he’s choking on something bitter. He wants to protect Spidey, which is ridiculous because the arachnid hero is more than capable of protecting himself.
So, Deadpool never interferes out of professional respect. Instead, he grabs some popcorn and finds a good rooftop for each fight from where to ogle Spider-Man in action. If he frets a little, then it’s nobody’s business but his own.
But Spider-Man never loses, and Wade loves him a little more for it.
…
“Could I interest you in a date?”
“No thanks. Dates aren’t really my favorite fruit. Too sweet.”
“This is getting ridiculous.”
“What was that?”
“If you were a fruit, you’d be a fineapple.”
“Is that a pickup line?”
“Yes, thanks for noticing!”
“Your pickup lines need some work. Maybe don’t subject anyone to them just yet.”
Deadpool feels a little bit like shooting himself in the head to put himself out of his misery.
…
“I don’t understand him,” Deadpool complains to a cashier at a corner store because he cannot afford a therapist. “What’s so difficult to understand about ‘Would you go on a date with me?’”
“Have you used those exact words?” the cashier asks.
“I’ve been very explicit,” Deadpool replies, and then realizes that explicit can be interpreted in different ways. “Not like that. I’m being very gentlemanly about it. He deserves a little romance first before we get to the graphic parts.”
“Maybe he’s just not that into you,” the cashier points out.
Deadpool glares.
“Not what I wanted to hear. Don’t change careers, you’d make a horrible shrink.”
“I don’t get paid enough to deal with this.”
“It’s the simplest thing, right?” Deadpool insists, “‘Would you go on a date with me?’”
That, of course, is the exact moment when Spider-Man turns up.
“No, no, you can’t just ask out someone who’s working customer service,” Spidey says firmly and begins to drag Deadpool out of the store, “They have to be nice to you, it’s not fair.”
“I’m not asking him out,” Deadpool argues. “He’s not my type.”
“You have a type?”
“Yes. Dumbasses, apparently.”
…
Deadpool isn’t good at relationships. He’s volatile, his attention span is short, and he’s too selfish to be truly considerate. It’s a recipe for a disaster. Wade knows this. He’s not a good person. In comparison to Spider-Man, especially, he’s practically a dark, ugly smudge of self-centered grime. Yet, against his better judgment, he still wants something more than just sex with Spidey. He wants something meaningful. He wants to snatch Spider-Man up and store him away, keep him forever, and never let him go.
Deadpool knows that he can get intense, borderline obsessive even, but he knows that Spidey could take it. He would deal with Deadpool’s brand of merciless loyalty and recklessness and then whack some sense into him when necessary. Part of the reason why Deadpool likes him is that Spidey doesn’t put up with bullshit at all and isn’t afraid to call it out when he sees it.
In truth, Wade is quite sure that Spider-Man is his perfect match or as close as it can get.
“Hey, Spidey?”
“Hm?”
“Do opposites attract, or halves make a whole?”
“Both,” Spider-Man replies without a moment’s hesitation. “Both is good.”
“Sort of like us.”
“Exactly like us.”
How can he just say stuff like that and then remain merrily oblivious? It truly blows the mind.
…
In a fit of insanity, Deadpool says, “Let’s get married.”
Spider-Man turns to stare at him. For a moment, hope flares in Wade’s chest because it feels like he’s finally got through to Spidey. Maybe he’ll finally understand that Wade is dead serious. He’d marry Spider-Man in a heartbeat, without a second thought. He’s so stupidly in love with him that it’s almost tragic.
Then, of course, Spider-Man laughs.
“Let’s. In Las Vegas. A bad Elvis impersonator should officiate the ceremony,” he jokes.
“Yes! That! Let’s do that,” Deadpool agrees, a little desperately. “Let’s elope.”
“I don’t think so. My aunt would kill me if I got married without her there to witness it,” Spider-Man says with a chuckle, and then he promptly forgets the entire conversation.
Frankly, this time, Wade is inclined to agree. Elopement would’ve been a bit over the top for a first date.
…
In the end, Spider-Man is so dense that Deadpool has no choice but to bring out the big guns.
“I’m in love with you,” he confesses one ordinary day.
At this point, he has nothing left to lose by dropping the L-bomb. If Spider-Man has been letting him down gently this whole time, then this is it, he’ll have to spell it out that he’s not interested and then Wade will leave him alone forever. Metaphorically. He sure hopes that they can continue being friends, regardless of the outcome.
Spider-Man stares.
“What?”
“I’m in love with you,” Deadpool repeats. “Stupidly so. It’s frankly a little embarrassing.”
Spider-Man stares some more. Then he laughs. He laughs. Deadpool wants to die a little, then. Spider-Man wouldn’t be intentionally cruel, but right now, he may have just stabbed Deadpool in the chest with one of his own katanas.
This was a big fucking mistake. He should’ve just taken the hint earlier.
“No, you’re not,” Spider-Man says.
Deadpool shrugs. “Yes, I am.”
“You can’t be. You don’t even know me!”
What?
“What? Of course, I know you,” Deadpool replies, because what the hell is Spidey even talking about? They’re friends. As far as Deadpool is concerned, they are best friends. He knows Spidey through and through.
“You have no idea who I am. You can’t be in love with someone if you don’t even know their name!”
“Oh, that,” Deadpool says and waves an indifferent hand. “I don’t need to know your name to be in love with you. Names are nice but sort of useless. You’re Spidey, and I love you.”
“You can’t. If you knew me at all, you’d know that I'm—” Spider-Man swallows the end of his sentence. He sounds sort of distraught now.
“You’re what? Unless you poke kittens with needles in your downtime, I don’t think there’s anything at this point that would change my mind.”
“You don’t even know what I look like!”
“You could have the face of a blobfish for all I care. I’m not that shallow,” Deadpool says and then adds, “Besides, you have a glorious butt. It more than makes up for your potential blobfish face.”
“I don’t have a blobfish face,” Spidey says a little sullenly.
“See! It makes perfect sense to be in love with you.”
“It makes zero sense.”
This is not going well. Deadpool is starting to get that horrible, sinking feeling that maybe he has fucked up big time.
“Is this you turning me down?” he asks because it’s better to know quickly so he can dig himself a hole and disappear into it forever.
“What? Yes. No! I don’t know,” Spidey says, looking helpless and uncertain. “I’ve never really… thought about it.”
“Are you thinking about it now?”
“I… I suppose I am.”
The Plan is simple: ask Spidey out, romance him, and tumble him into bed. All Deadpool needs is a ‘yes’ to the first step, and he’s set.
So, he asks just one more time, “Would you go out with me?”
“Like on a date?” Spider-Man asks.
“Yeah, exactly like on a date,” Deadpool confirms.
Spider-Man hesitates for a bit, but then he says carefully, “Okay.”
Deadpool freezes.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll go on a date with you,” Spider-Man says. Then he hesitates and says, “Spider-Man doesn’t date, though.”
“You agreed already! You can’t just change your mind,” Deadpool complains.
“No, I meant Spider-Man doesn’t date. Either you get me, or nothing at all,” Spider-Man says, and there’s a stubborn note in his tone.
“Are you saying you want to go on a date with me without the suit?” Deadpool asks, barely believing his ears. This is getting a little bit too good to be true, so he discreetly pinches himself in the arm to check if this is a dream.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Deal.”
“You too.”
“What?”
“You’ll go without the suit, too, or the deal is off.”
“…Deal,” Deadpool says. Then, “Tomorrow night?”
“Sure,” Spider-Man agrees. Then he says, “You could’ve just asked me out in the first place. You didn’t really have to go the extra mile and go straight to love confessions.”
“You’re so dumb that it’s almost cute.”
…
The next evening, Wade Wilson meets Peter Parker, and it’s love at first sight.