SPIDER - MAN

It was a step in the right direction.  Sure, things weren’t just going to fall back into place as though he had never left, but it wasn’t like Peter never wanted to see him again and that meant that there was hope.  Wade hadn’t fucked things up beyond repair and that was most definitely a welcome change of pace.  The merc embraced the other man in return, kissing the top of his head.

“Understood, baby boy,” he agreed.  It felt incredible to be saying the nickname again.  While he’d had no shortage of smartass remarks while he’d been in captivity, it was difficult to talk that much when one was being tortured.  The entire experience had reminded him all too much of Francis and the sooner he was able to get his mind off of the whole thing, the better.

He pulled back just enough to meet Peter’s gaze, a small smile on his lips.  “Give me a minute and I can get into my good ol’ red and black, we can hit the streets and fight some crime.”

A step, no matter how small, was still progress. Peter had to believe that. The kiss to his head had his shoulders dropping as he relaxed. “Thank you,” he muttered. This had gone better than he thought it would. In all honesty, he’d expected shouting and sarcasm, maybe even questions being dodged, but he didn’t get any of that. It was refreshing. 

Even better, getting back to doing what they did best - working together. 

“Sounds like a good deal, Wade.” He smiled softly, eyes still a bit guarded but not completely closed off as before, and pulled the mask over his head. Part of him wanted to scream and he wasn’t entirely sure why, but... now that he thought back, he knew he was being fucking selfish. Wade’s priority would never be him, he knew that going into this.

He was well practiced enough at it to know when he had fucked up.  All that was left to decide was whether it was beyond repair or not and that wasn’t even up to him, it was up to Peter.  He had only been seeing the other man for a few months and so much had been happening in that time; finding out about the curse that had been placed upon him by Death herself, his appearance reverting back to what it had been before Weapon X, all because he had fallen so madly in love with a real hero.

The least that he owed Peter was the truth.

“When Weaz told me about it, it was supposed to just be a regular merc job,” he explained, “real sleeze, trafficking sex, drugs, weapons…but it was a trap.  A few minutes after I got there, they laid out the terms, trashed my phone and strapped me to a lab table.”

Memories flooded his mind that he didn’t want to live through again at that moment so he pushed them back.  Wade opened his mouth in an effort to speak but nothing came out at first.  When he did manage, it was weak, his usual humor missing from his tone.

“I’m sorry…”

Confusion flooded his heart. What did you do when someone came back? This had never happened before so Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to do. One one hand he wanted to forgive Wade entirely because it wasn’t his fault - he couldn’t predict some madman trying to use Ellie has leverage. Yet, at the same time, Peter had thought he was abandoned again. 

That second one was hard to get over. 

Even then, Wade had never sounded so defeated before, not that Peter could recall. So he took a moment and reached up to wrap his arms around Wade’s shoulders and hugged him, pressing against him. 

“I don’t know what to say. This... it hurts, Wade, but I’ve never had someone come back. Not like this. Not ever. So don’t be surprised if I can’t just fall back into what we had before.” He closed his eyes and sighed - a shaky, breathless sound. “...Patrols were quiet without you.” 

The merc knew that Peter had every right and reason to be pissed at him.  In all fairness, the younger man didn’t know the full story, but there was a significantly louder part of Wade’s mind that told him that didn’t matter.  What it amounted to was that he still left his boyfriend a God damn note as an explanation as to where he was going before just fucking vanishing for almost a year.

Maybe it would have been easier for him to just agree to that.  They could go back to being Spider-Man and Deadpool, quips, flips and thwips.  They could just forget about what they had been building, the trust that Wade had been experiencing, the walls Peter had managed to smash to pieces that had been around Wade’s heart for years…

Who was he kidding?

Stepping closer to Peter, he placed his hands upon the other man’s hips and met his gaze.  When he spoke, his voice was low, urgent, and most importantly, genuine.

“They had Ellie in a scope,” he explained, his voice even shaking.  “I dunno how they found out about her, but they did.  If I didn’t comply, they were gonna kill her.  I gave them what they wanted until I was sure I could take them all out at once, and when I did, I came back…”

Wade paused, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“I still want you…I never stopped thinkin’ about you, baby, not once.”

The second Wade stepped closer, Peter’s breath caught and he was almost unable to breathe with those hands on his hips. Wade’s warmth seeped through the spandex and Peter found that it was enough to start melting the ice he’d built up around his heart as a result of Wade’s absence. 

Ellie...

She was Wade’s Achilles Heel. “I could have helped, you know that. You knew that.” His eyes cut to Wade’s face and Peter pressed his lips tight together, unable to form a coherent response. Ellie had been a topic that came up a few times in their short dating period. Peter knew she was to Wade what May was to him. In one word - everything. 

That last part had him lowering his head again, staring down at the mask in his hands. Spider-Man would have felt better here. As the masked hero, Peter felt like everything would be just fine under that guise but... This was Wade. “Did you not trust me to help you or could you just not contact me? Wade, this... I can’t explain how this is messing me up. You left for damn near a year. When people leave me, they’re usually dead and it’s my fault. ...Do you realize what you’ve done?”

In Peter’s experience, when someone left him, it wasn’t temporary. There was always a reason and he always assumed that the fault was his own. He should have known when he saw the note on their rooftop that Wade simply wasn’t going to come back. But he’d hoped, waited, wondered - then finally, he let himself accept the fact that Wade was gone. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised. That was normal now. His parents, Ben, Gwen... soon May would go too so he should have known Wade would too. Perhaps he was one of those people destined to be alone. 

That didn’t stop him from chewing the inside of his cheek at Wade’s answer and apology. Confusion seeped into his heart and Peter turned his head away. “A job in South America that nearly took an entire year? Must have been pretty bad if Deadpool couldn’t manage to get out of it.” 

Snark. His tone was biting but it was mostly to defend himself. That’s how things went with him. Back to business. He grabbed his mask off the ledge and held it between his hands for a moment, ready to snatch it back on in a heartbeat. 

While he hadn’t spent an abundance of time with the other man as of yet, it was safe to say that ‘Spider-Man’ had his senses dialed up to 11 almost at all times.  It was to be expected of an enhanced human being.  He had gotten to know Bruce Banner a little more when they had been traveling on the Ark, and the way he described it was like being an exposed nerve.  Even with the immense power that the Hulk had, Bruce himself was always hyper-aware of his surroundings.  It sounded maddening to Loki.

He realized that he had gotten lost in his thoughts only when Peter reemerged from the alley, dressed in typical human clothing.  From the voice he had heard beneath the mask, Loki had expected someone about Peter’s age, but he hadn’t been anticipating just how attractive the other man would be.

Still, he stood up a bit straighter and composed himself quickly.  He gestured vaguely in front of them.  “Then by all means, lead the way.”

“Right. Got it.” That’s what he did. Once there, Peter fiddled with his key as he headed up the stairs. Fourth floor, third apartment. Inside, the apartment was mostly bare but clean. Books were all over the desk, laundry was miraculously put away, the trash had been taken out. Peter didn’t have a proper television, only a small computer monitor he’d rigged to the cable cord on a serving tray. 

He’d get a better one later. 

He dropped his backpack on the couch, more of a futon than anything, and held his arms out. “It’s not the most perfect place, I’m still getting some furniture and stuff, but you’re welcome to what all’s in here. Got an extra bed in the spare room too and a ton of blankets. Seriously. Blankets for days. And pillows! Can never have too many of those. Um, got some clothes too if you need those.” 

“You…want to offer me a room within your home to stay in?”  While it was strange to ask, Loki had to be sure.  It wasn’t often that he was shown random kindness, and certainly after all that he had done to Midgard and especially to New York…why would anyone want to be kind to him?  More than that, from what he could tell by the ‘Spider-Man’ and the clothing he wore, he was what the Midgardians would consider a hero, much like Thor and the rest of the Avengers.

So why did the man want to help Loki of all people?

“If you’re certain you’re alright with my presence…I would be grateful for a place to rest for a bit.”  By no means did he plan on imposing, but perhaps in exchange for a place to stay for a bit, the god could offer some help to the hero.  Maybe an object of magical origin to help him with his various duties as a hero.

“And rest assured, while I don’t understand the need for keeping your identity hidden, I won’t reveal your true name or face.”

“Well yeah. I mean I have the room so why not? No reason not to share it.” His shoulders dropped hearing that his identity was safe with Loki. That was more than he could have asked for. “Just have to keep certain loved ones safe, that’s the only reason I don’t want to show my face to a lot of people. So just wait a second...”

With that, he ducked into an alley to web his backpack to him and start changing out of the suit. Over the years, he’d gotten quite good at getting in and out of the suit without anyone noticing anything. So he was back out on the street within minutes, his backpack on his shoulders and his hair a wild mess around his face.

“Figured you might be a bit more comfortable with me like this instead. You know, less formal and probably gets a little strange just talking to a dude in spandex. ...At least it’s comfortable spandex but people don’t really talk about that until it’s wet and feels like you’re peeling yourself out of four swimsuits at once.”

Spider-Man LV.27 Priest HP ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜ MP ⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ATK ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ DEF ⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ LCK ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ SPD ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ STA ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛

He hadn’t been on Earth long, only since the defeat of Thanos.  Thor knew that Loki was alive, he had made sure to tell his brother as much, but a sort of self-imposed exile was something that the trickster had insisted upon.  Of course, Thor was against it, insisting that he needed Loki’s help in governing Asgard, but that wasn’t true at all.  The thunderer had all that it took to make a great King, he simply needed to believe as much.

Loki felt he would just get in the way of that.

He had considered staying at the Avengers compound, since after he had aided in the defeat of the Mad Titan, Stark had offered him a room there, but that didn’t feel right either.  He wasn’t an Avenger, he wasn’t a hero, he was just…Loki.

“In all honesty, I hadn’t figured out where I’m going to stay as of yet,” he admitted to Peter, looking down for only a moment.  “I’ve been wandering for about a week now.”

If the man didn’t know where he was going to be, Peter couldn’t actually allow himself to let that continue. Because of Brock’s help in getting him on SHIELD’s pay grade, Peter had a place to himself, his own vehicle, paid all of May’s bills... He needed to help. 

“If you want, I have an extra room at my place. I’m gone during the night mostly so you don’t have to worry about me being there to wake you up or anything. Shouldn’t be too bad.” A hand to the back of his neck. Peter was basically inviting a God to his humble apartment. How was this going to go down? 

Not only that but he’d have to expose Loki to his identity. That was a difficult part but Loki had trusted him with his. He could do this. 

@skylinesentinel

America sure was odd, to say the least. The young hero, having chosen to stay a bit longer than his normal tour, could hardly believe just how much crime there was! Well, he still could hardly wrap his head around the sheer size of the country, but that was another story. 

New York was absolutely no exception to the weirdness.

Not only did the subway system make no sense, but… was that a man with a spider on his back???

Watching the blue and red clad man swing past, All Might could only stare. Was this an American hero? Did his body create those webs?!

“So cool,” he whispered to himself, allowing a moment to fanboy over someone new. 

With his eyes trained on the hero, All Might found himself trotting along, trying to follow. How crazy he must have looked! Hulking over everyone of normal height and yet, he was following like an obsessed fan. Well, there was a first time for anything. 

When he finally saw his target land on a roof of a shorter building, he grinned and did a few quick squats to prepare for the jump. His leg forced him up and over the edge of the roof, allowing him to land safely on top of the building. That would never get old.

“Fellow hero,” he said, waving at Spider-Man. “I am All Might! I admired your work with that villain coming out of the subway! Might we chat for a bit?”

All he wanted to do was eat for the first time since four that morning. To say Peter was tired would be an understatement, so the second he saw this Captain America cosplayer power squat his way onto the top of the building, he thought he was high. Was this taco an edible? If it was, why did no one tell him? 

As he turned around, his mask was pulled up. Midway into stuffing a taco into his mouth, a bit of shredded cheese on his chin, Peter paused. Yeah, no, he wasn’t imagining this.

Then again, it wasn’t unusual for new heroes to pop up all over the place. Maybe this was one of them using a variety of the American flag for his uniform and not a Captain America remake. All Might, huh? 

     Really, he’s almost surprised with himself. Almost, but not quite. The tickets had been sitting for so long, he wasn’t sure he could still use them. When he’d picked them up & looked them over he’d almost dropped them. They’d been an expensive impulse purchase, one he had shoved in a book & forgotten about after April had died. Finding them years later while he was looking for that very same fucking book he’d mentioned to Peter & realizing he could still use them… It had been as if she were telling him it was time. She’d always been stubborn like that, so really it wasn’t a surprise. Even now, her ghost was a bossy little thing telling him to get his shit together. 

     And she would want him to move on. He knows that, he’s known that. And it had taken him nearly eight damn years, but he had. Peter is gorgeous - long limbs, sharp tongue, & a genius level intellect that often has Brock laughing despite himself. They met because of Peter’s aunt - something that shouldn’t amuse the older man as much as it did, but May was the only nurse in the unit he’d let remotely near him, & after a few years, she knew him well enough to realize maybe it was worth a shot. 

     He just hadn’t realized that she was entirely serious about introducing them, nor that she was right about how well they fell together. Peter’s ten years younger than him, hardly a big gap but given his line of work his body shows far more stress than it should. Hence the monthly serum injections May subjects him to on the authorization of Dr. Cho. 

     That’s… Yet another conversation he maybe needs to have with Peter. That list keeps growing, & yet he hasn’t found the right time to bring any of it up. The serum, his feelings. Probably a whole host of other things he’s putting off in favor of preserving what they have without jeopardizing it because if he’s anything, Brock Rumlow is one selfish fucking bastard.

     So he had taken the tickets, called them in, booked the cruise, upgraded everything, & packed their bags - taking special care to makes sure Peter had everything he needed before they flew out for the departure port. They’d been halfway there when he’d even told him where they were going, & it hadn’t been until they were boarding that it had even felt some semblance of real.

     Reality being the SS Poseidon, a 135,000-ton state-of-the-art luxury cruise ship. With 152,460.0 square feet of exterior deck space, four swimming pools, she cuts an impressive figure. They had been told during the tour that due to her massive size, Poseidon was far too large to dock at most ports & that if they wished to disembark at some of the smaller ports along the route, they would be ferried to shore in one of the tenders. He’d seen them stored in davits alongside the lifeboats when they boarded, & briefly he’d wondered if they’d ever need to use one. 

    Unlikely. This is his vacation, he needs to not think about emergency parameters - he needs to enjoy himself. And his time with the other. 

    Something he’d been quick to notice when he’d boarded is that most of the major public rooms are on the lowest decks, & the passenger cabins are stacked on top of them. He’s been on a lot of fucking boats in his life - enough to know this is the opposite of a traditional ocean liner design. It puts him at ease, given that it means the public rooms are contained in the stronger hull. Not that he should be worrying about something like that. It also meant their room - a suite - had a private balcony away from the waves, access to the Queen’s Grill, & the private deck with its whirlpool on Deck 11. Little perks, really.

    They’d spent the first few days exploring Decks 2 & 3 with the theaters, the planetarium, & the casino, as well as a shopping arcade, the champagne bar, & various restaurants. The nightclub on Deck 3 had also been an interesting find. The next few days had been split between Decks 7 & 8, which were mostly restaurants, the spa, & the 8,000 volume library. He’d considered bringing Bear given there were twelve kennels on Deck 12 available for ocean crossings, but he’d decided against it last minute & left them at home with his sister. Only one kennel was occupied by a sweet doberman who seemed attention starved.

     Now it’s New Years Eve & over 3,700 passengers & crew are ringing in the new year in the belly of the beast. It’s the last night of the cruise, & he’s looking forward to moving on. It’d been one hell of an experience, but he has other things planned. Looking across the table at Peter, he can tell the other isn’t having it – their table companions are an… interesting bunch, & he can’t blame him at all. The man had started off with some of the most tasteless commentary he could manage, & then he had started drinking. Despite the fact they’d never talked about it, Brock knows just from Peter’s prescriptions alone why some of the things rolling out of the other’s mouth would make him uncomfortable. Basic human decency aside, as it were. 

     The comment about Peter being his son is what drops his mood to mirror Peter’s. It’s a sore spot for sure - he’s definitely not old enough for that role & that’s decidedly not the affections he holds for the other. They’ve been dancing around that for ages, & he’d meant to do something about it but somehow in the excitement of being on the ship, they’d fallen into something more comfortable & he’s… hesitant to broach the topic. Brock can’t risk pushing him away, but they can’t keep balancing in this tightrope forever. 

     When Peter stands, mouth so close to his ear, he feels a familiar warmth shoot right through him. Fuck. ‘ Yes, dear, ’ he smirks, ignoring their company for a moment long to catch his wrist & squeeze in silent promise. I’ll be right there, it says. Wait for me. He watches him go, setting his glass down. 

    ‘ He’s not my son, ’ Brock says finally once Peter is outside. ‘ But I’ll speak with him. Excuse me. ’ He finishes his drink & moves to follow. The cool night air feels fucking good on his skin, & the sea feels at peace. It’s almost too nice, like the calm before the storm. Pushing that thought away, he moves across the deck. They have a few hours before the main celebration, & he’d much rather spend it with the other than their dinner company. 

The dull, continuous noise of the ocean paired with the talking and laughter from inside made Peter feel a little better about the evening. One person wasn’t going to ruin it for him, he refused to allow that, but getting away for the time being was best for everyone. Some of the things the man had said made his blood boil in a way he couldn’t explain. 

Maybe his spider sense would tell him more later - who knew.

The second he heard Brock’s shoes, a distinct and familiar sound to him, he turned his head slightly. “It’s nice out here,” he commented. One arm was tucked under his elbow and supporting the other, his drink still partially full. It was a good thing there was alcohol, even in the form of champagne. He was reminded of the night they found the club on one of the lower decks, bringing a smile to his face. 

“He’s still going on in there. I think I may have offended him.” As if that was difficult to do. Most of the people in the upper decks were some of the higher society people he’d seen in New York a time or two. Not that he was going to complain though. Brock had gone through some trouble to get these tickets and it wasn’t right of him to be so displeased, not when they still had a week left. 

May had been happy with the photos at least. Peter had enjoyed texting her some of his phone selfies with Brock and she’d insisted on posting a few of them on her Facebook - he didn’t mind. 

A sip. Peter turned slightly and regarded Brock thoughtfully. Things had been going so well on their trip that he had to wonder just what was in store for them - good things never lasted long for Peter. 

“Sorry about leaving you back there with the jackals. Thought it might help to just... get some clear air out here. I- Brock? Thanks for letting me come with you on this trip. It’s honestly been the best time I’ve had with someone. Don’t know how I’ll make it up to you.” His voice was soft but not low enough to be drowned out by the sound of the waves near the window. Peter downed the rest of his drink and sat it on the tray of a passing waiter without looking. 

Despite the lack of in-depth information on Asgard, Loki could tell that Peter was being sincere.  It was strange, but even though his mask, the other man’s voice was a giveaway to his emotions.  Perhaps it was simply because Loki had grown accustomed to reading other individuals.  It was almost a necessity.

“That’s admirable,” he mused, “from what I’ve seen upon this planet, many humans value gossip far more than the truth.  If you wish to know about Asgard, I could speak of it for centuries…but I’m more surprised that you’ve not heard of me in a more…direct sense.”

The god reached out and took his hand, shaking it once, firmly.  “And who are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Yeah but talk is cheap. One of those things that really get to me. People get a perception started and go around spreading what they believe when that’s not the truth at all. So I prefer to go to the source and make decisions for myself. Can’t do that with everything of course but it’s nice to be able to get the chance.” 

He was immediately thinking of great scientists through the ages but then remembered who he was talking to. A god. A real fucking god. If he’d met Thor before, he would have been fanboying about him too but Loki was better, he already seemed down to Earth. ...As much as a god could be, at least. 

“The Office” Starters | Accepting

Oh fuck. Anxiety rolled in his belly like a spiked bowling ball. Anyone saying that they needed to talk with you privately was almost always a bad thing but this was Brock. It couldn’t be that bad. Right? 

“Uh yeah, sure okay.” Peter grabbed his coffee from the table in SHIELD’s break room, phone tucked into his pocket, and followed Brock to his office. This was it - the moment when Brock finally told him to leave and never come back. Over the past few months, Peter had been gone. No word. No note. No nothing. 

He’d left his phone on the counter with his laptop and backpack like it was any other day. The only change was that he wasn’t back by noon the next day. Keeping his schedule and keeping in contact had been one of the things Peter agreed to do, reassuring Brock that he was okay. This was... Maybe Brock had moved on while he was gone and that made his chest ache in a horrific way - enough that he actively flinched at the door latching shut behind him.

Peter carefully raised his eyes from the floor to the desk and then to Brock himself. After everything the man had gone through and Peter had to take that damn mission - classified, obviously. The higher ups would skin him alive for talking. 

Suit ripped. Tattered. Stained with various liquids and sticky masses. Patches of skin showed underneath, parts of it bloodied and cut open. Peter looked down at himself when he heard the statement and laughed softly, a flat noise. 

“Sometimes the other guy gets the upper hand and does more damage. Doesn’t mean I get the chance to back down and limp home.” Attention was finally being paid to the other in the form of Peter looking up at him, only then realizing that... the guy was wearing a pretty good looking dupe of his own suit. Obviously the cleaner, not stained with god-knows-what version.