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The first time Wade Wilson meets Spider-Man, Spidey is mostly naked.

Sure, he has his boxers on, and one of his legs is stuck in his red-and-blue Spider-Man suit, but Wade doesn’t really notice either of those pieces of clothing at the time. All he sees are the delicious abs, long limbs, and miles of pale skin, stretched over lean, functional muscle.

While Wade isn’t exactly a good guy by anyone’s standards, he does try to make a point by not being a total asshole. He knows, in his brain, that right now the only halfway decent thing to do would be to avert his eyes. Maybe he should even turn on his heels and walk away. In fact, Wade means to do just that, but it’s proving a bit challenging to tear his gaze off the hot, gorgeous twink, who appears to be undressing in the alley that Wade uses as a shortcut between his apartment and the nearest corner store.

The guy stares right back, frozenly, still mostly naked. His wide-eyed, horrified gaze is glued on Wade. His mouth moves as if he means to say something, but no words emerge.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Wade says accidentally, waving his hand a little in encouragement.

The guy lets out an indignant sound, raises his hand, and shoots a burst of sticky web straight in Wade’s face. And just like that, Wade’s brain finally catches on that he’s not just meeting the hottest guy he has seen in his life, but that that guy also happens to be Spider-Man.

“Waitwaitwait!” Wade cries out as he tries to struggle the sticky web out of his eyes. “It’s you!”

There are rustling sounds in the alley now. Wade wonders if Spidey is still undressing, if he’s going to be fully naked in seconds, and if Wade will miss the entire show. Or maybe he’s already leaving, ready to disappear into the city before Wade has had the opportunity to even process all this.

“You saw nothing,” Spider-Man hisses. “This didn’t happen.”

“I saw almost everything,” Wade corrects. “But that’s on you for undressing in a very public place.”

“It’s not a public place! Nobody comes through this way. Ever,” Spider-Man replies testily.“And that’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

Wade finally gets the web mostly out of his eyes. He blinks a few times blearily, and then he looks at Spidey. Except it’s not Spidey at all. There’s no sign of the superhero’s suit anymore. An ordinarily dressed guy (who happens to be extraordinarily cute) stands in front of Wade, looking all sorts of annoyed and embarrassed.

Wade means to say something clever and charming, something that will sweep Spidey right off his feet, but once again, staring dumbly is the best he can do.

“Holy fucking shit,” Wade says. “Spider-Man.”

“I am not Spider-Man,” Spidey denies quickly.

Wade tuts. “Lying is unheroic. I saw the suit. Among other things.”

“I just… I’m just a copycat!” Spidey lies unconvincingly. “I dress up as Spider-Man for fun.”

“Now, you see, if you had claimed that you’re a weird fetishist pervert, I might have believed you, considering the circumstances, but a copycat? Not with abs like those,” Wade points out. “I know I’m repeating myself, but holy fucking shit, Spidey. No wonder you can pull off skintights like that.”

“And you call me the fetishist pervert here?” Spider-Man squeaks. His face is turning an interesting shade of red. “At least I’m not the one—!”

“Hey, it’s you who gave me a free show!” Wade protests. “I’m just an innocent bystander who got an eyeful.”

Spidey adjusts his backpack. The embarrassed blush on his cheeks deepens, but he visibly forces himself to be cool about all this.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Spidey says. “As I said, this never happened.”

“If I pretend this never happened, what do I get?” Wade asks promptly, curiously.

Spidey makes a face. “Nothing, besides a good, warm feeling for doing the right thing.”

Wade snorts. “I don’t get warm feelings for doing the right thing. Gimme something, Spidey.”

“This is blackmail,” Spidey grumbles.