Work Text:
Tap.
The fall leaves tap lightly on my window while I work on my suit. The fall season is always nice, especially for Spider-man. There’s no sweltering summer heat or winter chill. My suit does have temperature regulators, but they can only do so much. And in the spring my asthma acts up with all of the pollen in the air. It’s not as bad as when I was a kid, but no one needs a superhero to come and save them while he’s still trying to catch his breath.
Tap tap.
I hum along to the music playing from my phone absentmindedly while tinkering with my goggles. They’ve been acting up and without them, the wind makes my eyes water when I’m trying to swing from place to place. Speaking of, I should really swing by the convenience store. The only food I have in my apartment right now is some protein powder, a few granola bars, and some questionable bread with blue spots I’ve been eating around. My spider detoxification or whatever it is can only keep be alive for so long.
Tap tap tap tap tap!
I frown at the noise coming from my window. Leaves aren’t usually that aggressive and last I checked, we aren’t supposed to get a storm today. Or lots of wind, for that matter.
I twist around in my chair to check the window when I see the notorious ’Merc with a Mouth’ through the glass. I nearly fall out of my chair at the sight of him because what!? Why is Deadpool at my window and more important, how does he know where I live!?
I rush around my workstation in search of my mask while the tapping continues. Once my face is covered, I walk over to the window. When he spots me, Deadpool stops tapping and waves, his other hand curled around the brick sill just below the window. I unlock the window and open it, preparing myself for anything the man is about to say to me. They don’t call him the ’Merc with a Mouth’ for nothing.
“Spidey! Hey baby,” he says in that obnoxiously flirty way of his. I scoff and roll my eyes at him. He’s lucky I met him after I turned 18, or I would have had him arrested in a heartbeat.
“What are you doing here and how do you know where I live?” I ask. I also tried to remember if anything in the apartment could be linked to Peter Parker Deadpool walks farther and stands in the middle of the makeshift living room. I don’t like that he’s there because it’s the one spot with a view of the entire place, including my workstation, the workstation with fragile technology that should never ever fall into the hands of a guy like him.
I stare Deadpool down and block what I can of the workstation with my body. “What are you doing here and how do you know where I live?” I repeat, more firmly this time.
Deadpool just shrugs and says, “I’ve got my ways.” He winks at my refrigerator like the schizophrenic he always acts like. I can never tell whether he actually has a condition or he just thinks it looks cool. Either way, it’s incredibly annoying.
I go to open my mouth, either to tell him off or to insult him, but he shushes me. “Can’t I just visit a friend?” He asks. His voice is dripping with false innocence. I don’t say anything and he laughs. “Looks like this spider woke up on the wrong side of the bed! Come on sweetie, cheer up! Your knight in shining armor is here!”
He’s so ridiculous I almost laugh. Keyword: almost. Instead, I step to the side and gesture to the window, which is now half open. “Well thanks for being my hero and all that jazz,” I tell him, the sarcasm oozing off my tongue, “but you can’t leave now. I’d actually prefer it if you did.”
Deadpool wilts a little and acts out being stabbed through the heart. “Aw princess. You don’t mean that! Hey, I know what’ll put a smile on that beautiful face!” I don’t bother pointing out that he can’t see my face with my mask covering it.
He opens his arms and waggles his fingers, like jazz hands but in reverse. “Come give daddy a hug!” I just barely avoid puking into my mask. Who does this guy think he is, barging into my apartment and saying these disgusting things at me?
There are only a handful of people on the internet who find his comments endearing, and I’m definitely not one of them. His very existence is harassment and frankly, I think he should just stay at home all day. But instead, he’s here wasting my time and making me regret every life choice I’ve made that’s led me up to this point.
I march over to him and grab his arm harshly. He whimpers a little as I dig my nails into him. Good, I think, maybe you’ll finally learn your lesson if someone puts you in your place.
“Spidey,” he whines. I only partially listen to his complaints. “Loosen up a little! I know I have an incredible healing factor but that doesn’t mean you need to make me use it! Seriously, can’t we just hang out? I feel like I don’t even know you!” I block him out and continue dragging him like a toddler having a tantrum.
The window is so close, just within reach. We are about to make it when I hear it. “Ease up a little, Sweetums! It’s- AH! Peter!” My blood turns to ice and I whip around to stare at Deadpool.
My hands is holding on to his arm much tighter than I remember, so I let him go. He lets out a sigh once I do and I stare at him. “How do you know my name?” I ask in a low voice. He rubs his arm where my hand was and laughs.
This man, who has an identity just as secret as mine, has the audacity to laugh. He actually laughs! Honestly, I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore. Deadpool lives and plays by his own rules and no one else’s. It’s a miracle they haven’t sent out an order to arrest him yet.
“I’m not playing games with you right now Deadpool. Tell me how you know my name.” Noticing the seriousness in my voice, Deadpool stops fiddling with his arm and turns to me. It’s sort of unnerving having blank white eyes staring at you. Is this how people feel around me?
“I can’t tell you how I know. I would, but I can’t,” he says, his tone matching mine. I’m surprised the man can actually get serious. It still doesn’t push away the annoyance at the fact that he says he can’t tell me where he got my name from.
“It’s because I don’t even know,” he says suddenly. My brain freezes. Huh? “I can’t explain it to you because you won’t believe me, or you won’t understand, or both. But someone wanted me to know your name and so I do. That’s all I know.”
It takes a second for my senses to kick in. Oh, I think as I’d dawns on me. He was only pretending to be serious. Obviously there’s no way a guy like Deadpool can actually stop kidding around for once. My blood starts to boil.
“Stop joking around!” I yell at him. “This is serious! My identity can’t get out to the public because if it does, everyone I love will be in serious danger! Don’t you get that!?” I take a step towards him and he freezes, the eye part of his mask widening.
“Peter don’t-“
“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” I scream. Tears are building up at the corners of my eyes and I can’t stop it. Deadpool sticks his hands out in front of him.
“Okay, okay! Spidey, don’t come any closer. I know you’re mad but I’m not lying to you, okay? I really don’t know how I know your name!” Liar! I think angrily. He’s nothing but a sick, twisted liar that enjoys toying with me.
There’s so much rage bouncing around inside of me that the only thing I can think to do is slap him. I raise my hand as he continues to protest weakly. “Spider-man stop, I promise I won’t call you by your name again, just relax, okay?”
But I’m done talking. I bring my hand up and hit him as hard as I can. Once, twice, and then a third time just for good measure. “Spidey,” Deadpool says. His voice sounds sort of breathless. Him talking just angers me more.
“Shut up!” I shout at him and punch him right in the chest and send him flying across the room. Oops. I rush over and assess the damage. He broke a table on his way over and the floor is a bit scuffed, but other than that everything is in tact. Except, it seems, for Deadpool himself.
The mercenary is panting and prodding at his face, the exact spot where I slapped him. When he looks up and sees me he actually moans.
“Did…did you actually like that?” I ask awkwardly. The man below me nods frantically and squirms. I did not know this was the way this day was going to go. I thought I was going to have a quiet day to myself with only a few purse-snatchers to take care of. Now I’m dealing with…whatever is happening right now.
Deadpool squirms and grabs my arm, dragging me down with him. “Peter, please,” he begs me. I bite my lip. He does have a really nice body…I sigh and give in. Who says I can’t have something nice once in a while? I position myself over Deadpool and smirk.
”You want to explore that?” I ask as I lean closer to his face. His eyes widen and he nods some more. Something tells me it’s going to be a long night.