Texts Between Spider-Man And Deadpool

Filthy. There is no other word Peter can think of to describe the apartment he’s somehow ended up in, aside from maybe insanitary. It’s the smell that’s the most off-putting, there’s nothing particularly pungent about it, it’s just this stale, lingering odour that has triggered every memory of an adult telling Peter about stranger danger since he was five years old. He feels stupid for agreeing to come with the man, Deadpool, but what choice did he have? He knows that Peter is Spider-Man, and beyond that being a bad thing, Peter doesn’t really have any kind of grasp of what that could really mean, so his best bet is to investigate that, right? Right, Peter decides.

“Just a kid, huh, Webs?” Deadpool questions, casually positioning himself on the couch and inviting Peter to join him. “How old are you? Thirteen? Fourteen? How are you allowed out late enough to be Spider-Man?!”

“I’m sixteen,” Peter mumbles, “And sometimes I sneak out, but Mr Stark usually finds out and watches out for me anyway. He’ll um- he’ll know I’m here, by the way…” Peter lies, fully aware that the suit was not in use and therefore useless to Tony’s tracking.

“Mr Stark? As in, Tony Stark?” Deadpool laughs for a moment, “That was not something I was expecting. Good for you, Spider-boy! Sounds like you’re own personal orphan Annie story with good old daddy Warbucks!”

“I wouldn’t say I’m an orphan,” Peter tells him. He looks uncomfortable under the gaze of the masked man, who doesn’t seem to care.

“It’s been what? Ten years? Come on, Petey, there’s no shame in acknowledging it. We’ve all lost loved ones, if you hadn’t you probably wouldn’t be some friendly, neighbourhood Spider-Man, would you? You’d be running more adjacent to the Doc Ocs of the world, not the Avengers. I assume you’re somewhat affiliated with them if you’re under the watchful eye of Irondad?”

“Why are you saying these things to me? I don’t even know you and you’re talking to me as if you know everything there is to know about me! You don’t know anything! I-I-I’m Spider-Man because I want to help people, not because I don’t have parents. I have my Aunt May, and I had my Uncle Ben, and they taught me how to be the best person I can be,” Peter states firmly, doing his best to hold himself together. “You say you can’t die, but what use is that when you don’t look out for people? What do you do to help people? Is there anyone that you actually care about?!”

The apartment goes silent. Peter swears he can hear the dust settling on the couch, and then Deadpool stands up. He doesn’t look at Peter as he walks toward the hallway and opens up the door. Peter can’t see inside, but he can tell that he isn’t supposed to know what’s in there yet.

“I’ve cared about a few people in my time, Webs. I’ve lost both of the people I’ve cared about most, and that’s why I’m here. I can’t bare to constantly be in a universe where everything I’ve loved, I’ve lost. You just happened to be a familiar face, Webs. I’ll admit, you’re a little… different to the Spider-Man I kne-know, but you sound so much like him that that I almost want to blow my brains out,” Deadpool chuckles. Peter finally steps over to the open door, the room is empty, it’s dark too. It’s also covered in splatters of blood.

Oh god, Peter thinks, this is how Peter Parker dies, at the hands of a masked weirdo because he is too stubborn to listen to adults when they tell him not to talk to strangers! Peter inhaled a sharp breath and takes a step back. He has so many questions that he knows he doesn’t want the answer to.

“Relax,” Deadpool sighs, closing the door. “It’s my blood. I figured if I’m gonna be shooting myself in the head every other night, it may as well have its own room dedicated to the practise, am I right?”

Peter supposes he is right and shrugs in response, along with a small, delayed nod. “Oh. That’s probably not very child-appropriate.”

“I’m not a child!” Peter argues, “I’m nearly an adult!”

“You look thirteen, Webs.”

“Yeah, we aren’t all born with the ideal amount of testosterone flowing through our bodies, so excuse me if I look like a thirteen year old boy. It’s better than looking like a sixteen year old girl, so I’ll take it.”

Deadpool’s head tilts to the side briefly. He pauses for a moment, causing Peter to worry that maybe this conversation isn’t going to end well for him. “Spider-Man is… transgender?” The older masked man speaks after a few more seconds, “Trans Spider-Man. Wait! Spider-trans-Man! No, that’s worse. Yeah, I get why you picked Spider-Man.”

“You- you don’t like ‘Spider-Man’?” Peter asks, “I think it’s more straightforward than Deadpool, whatever that means.”

“You’ll understand when you’re old enough to gamble, and murder, and all that fun stuff,” Deadpool tells him. Peter nods silently. “Can I let you in on a secret, Spidey?” He breaks the silence again. Peter nods. “I’ve known that Spider-Man had some sort of connection to your school for a little while. I’ve been looking for you, I just didn’t know it was you, exactly, that I was looking for. I was kinda hoping this universe’s Peter Parker was a hot substitute teacher, or something. I’ve seen you and your friend, what’s his name? The one with the LEGO?”

“That’s Ned,” Peter smiles, “He’s been my best friend for ages. He knows about the Spider-Man stuff, too.”

“And that other one? The one with the douchey car that I’ve seen you talking to?”

Peter’s face drops. There goes any potential he had of seeming cool to this Deadpool guy, now that he’s literally seen him getting picked on by a typical high school bully.

“That’s Flash…” Peter mumbles, eyes focused suddenly on his fingers picking at the skin around his nails as they sit in his lap.

“And he’s not your friend, then?”

“No.”

“I’ve seen the way he pushes you after school, or yells things from his car - you’re Spider-Man! Why don’t you push him right back? You could show him who’s boss for once!” Deadpool practically cheers, but Peter shakes his head.

“I can’t,” Peter speaks firmly, “it wouldn’t be fair, and then people might know who I am. Then, I guess, I would be the bully, I think.”

“You’re just like my Spidey, only smaller. He used to get angry at me when I would kill the bad guys after he explicitly told me not to,” he shakes his head and lets out a sign, “I’m not going to let you end up like him, little Petey. I’m not going to let people hurt you, either.”

“What do you- what do you mean?” Peter asks, but before he gets an answer, Deadpool is power walking through his apartment.

“You stay right here, Webs. I’ll be back soon, help yourself to the tap water, consider it complimentary.” Suddenly Deadpool is gone, and Peter is alone in his apartment with nothing but the dust particles floating in the air to keep him company. He could leave. He should leave. Technically nothing is stopping him, but he doesn’t move. He’s intrigued and something within him is telling him to stick around, and that he’s safe with Deadpool.

Peter runs his finger across the side table next to him, collecting a small amount of dust on his index finger as he does so. He looks at it closely, it’s just brown wood, stained dark probably twenty odd years ago, it’s faded a little now. There’s two drawers, both with decorative, black handles. He pulls open the top drawer, completely unsurprised by the candy bar wrappers and empty McDonald’s cup inside. He closes it gently, expecting a similar contents of the second drawer as he opens it carefully. There are no wrappers or cups of any kind littering the drawer, instead it’s just photos. Photos of two men, a man that looked a little like him, only older and a lot more masculine, and a man with skin that barely resembles that of a human. Despite his skin, though, he looks happy as the brown haired man pushes him away, smilies on both of their faces.

Open just under an inch, Peter’s English classroom window provides the perfect distraction from the boring lesson being written on the board in front of him. He sucks in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as his eyes scan the backs of the heads of his peers. He watches as Vanessa Yang tucks a dark brown strand behind her ear, just able to hear the click of her acrylic nail against her earring stud in the process. One of the problems Peter has noticed since developing his arachnid-like abilities is that despite his enhanced hearing, he still doesn’t always listen to the right things… his teachers, for example. Peter’s English teacher would be the first to say that he’s easily distracted. Anyone that knows Peter and his situation, though, would know that he’s constantly on-guard; he’s watching, waiting. For what? Not even Pete could tell you that most days.

On this particular day, however, Peter’s ability to be distracted by anything and anyone is not for nothing. He turns to the next blank page in his workbook, intending to doodle perhaps another picture of himself, wearing nothing other than his Spider-Man suit, with his mentor, Tony Stark, as Ironman, when his eyes drift to a swift but almost unnoticeable movement outside the window. He waits a brief moment, secretly hoping that it’s an excuse to leap from his seat and into action. Nothing out of the ordinary for Peter Parker, a young boy with a desperate need to prove himself despite the fact that everyone around him is already impressed.

There’s another movement, and he wonders why nobody else has seen anything. He’s so engaged, so focused, that he doesn’t even hear the teacher calling his name. Vanessa Yang and the rest of the class are looking at him now, but he doesn’t notice. What he does notice, though, is the sunlight reflecting off of what can only be described as a sword of some description, and then a man, a red-suited man. Before he can really take the time to see exactly what it is the larger man is doing outside, Peter takes action, leaping from his desk and sending his worksheets flying as he runs out the door, his name echoing down the hallway as he runs toward the back exit of the school.

Reaching the school’s exit, he’s already managed to pull the Spider-Man suit on on top of his clothes after grabbing his backpack from beneath the lockers, his mask in one hand and his phone in the other. That quickly changes in one movement as he proceeds to pull on the mask with both hands, dropping his phone in the process. It’s fine, Peter thinks, it’ll still be there later. He decides not to worry about it, putting it out of his mind and running toward where he last saw the man. There’s no sign of him, just the back of a few classrooms, a strange ticking sound, and a couple of large trees.

“Where did he go?!” He asks either himself, or Karen, or the universe - he’s unsure which exactly, but he knows he definitely isn’t expecting an answer. But that’s what he gets.

“Wow! THE Spider-Man!” a cocky voice taunts him from above. He looks up, spotting him quickly. “I thought you’d be bigger in person.”

Gazing up into the tree above, Peter eyes the red-suited man, unsure of how to answer or what exactly it is he thought he would accomplish by confronting him just for… what, exactly? The man drops down from the tree, groaning slightly at the impact but looking straight at the super-hero in front of him.

“Yeah, I definitely thought you’d be taller,” he nods to no one in particular. “Anyway, great meeting you, Webs, next time we should do it over lunch, or perhaps anywhere but a high school, but I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait!” Peter demands, the man quickly halts his turn.

“I’d love to, Webs, but ya see,” he answers, pointing to something latched onto his arm - Peter immediately identifies it as the source of the ticking, “My arm is about to blow off, and as much as I’m indifferent about the lives of random school children, bodies exploding tend to cause a scene.”

Panic paints itself across Peter’s face, and the man doesn’t even have to be able to see it through his mask to know it.

“Turns out the guy I was trying to kill bought a bomb to a knife fight,” he jokes. His laughter sounds unphased, but Peter isn’t convinced. He can’t be. How could he be when a man is about to have his limb blown off?

“I know a doctor, he can help you!” Peter spits out in a single breath. “You’ll die!”

“I wish, Spidey-Man,” is all he says before turning and running, slowing down for only a brief second to turn around and wave to Peter before sprinting off again. Against Peter’s better judgement, and also both Tony Stark’s AND Aunt May’s advice to stay safe and out of trouble, the anxious, and somewhat curious, teenage boy follows.

There’s a strange feeling that comes along with watching someone die. Peter’s whole body tenses as, just 30 feet in front of him, he witnesses an explosion. It’s loud, but very much contained to the man’s body. He can’t tear his eyes away, and it makes him sick to think that he’s viewing this as though it’s some kind of spectacle. Blood flies through the air, droplets spitting against his mask and chest like thick rain. He hears the arm land somewhere ahead and to the right, but as soon as it’s all over, Peter just sprints toward the body, his heart aching that he couldn’t do anything to save the dead person in front of him. He opens his backpack, rummaging for his phone to call for help, but he quickly remembers that he no longer has it. All he can bring himself to do is cry.

Gripping his mask loosely, he pulls it from his head as the tears pour from his eyes. It’s not the first time he’s cried in the mask, he knows that the material sticks to the moisture and frustrates him even more. He takes a look around and upon seeing that no one else is around, quickly steps out of the suit, stuffing it into his backpack. Then he just lets himself kneel there, entirely unknowing of what to do. At least if someone came past they wouldn’t think that Spider-Man was the one crying.

“Cheer up, Webs,” he hears the man’s taunting voice. He wonders for a moment if it’s normal to hear the voices of people you’ve just witnessed die. Maybe, he considers, he’s just going to slowly go insane from the nature of the traumatic incident. Yeah. That must be it. “Web- oh. Hello.” The voice speaks again, and this time Peter notices that it really is coming from the man. “You’re not Spider-Man.”

“You’re not dead!” Peter laughs with relief, “How are you not dead?!”

“Like I said, that guy’s not the first person to try and kill me, and he won’t be the last.”

“You never said that,” Peter replies awkwardly.

“Oh? Never mind then. Anyway, I seem to have lost my recent pet spider, he’s blue and red, and answers to the name Spider-Man. He was around here somewhere, have you seen him?”

“Uh, no. Never heard of him. Who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter,” the now one armed man tells him, gesturing for him to leave with his remaining arm. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Shouldn’t you be dead?” Peter retorts. The man laughs.

“I fucking wish, kid.”

Peter mumbles something incoherent and runs a hand through his brown hair, awkwardly hurries out a goodbye and quickly starts heading off back toward the school.

“You just watched me get blown up, where are you going?!” The non-dead man laying on the grass calls out to Peter, earning a slow pivot and tilt of the head from the teenaged boy.

“To… to school?” Peter falters, “You said-”

“I mean, I did also just get blown up. Come on, kid!”

“I-I know a doctor…” Peter repeats himself from earlier, eyes focused entirely on his hands. It’s rude to stare, and he knows it, except that doesn’t help the fact that poor Peter has no idea where to look instead. His… are they eyes? Peter decides they’re eyes, and that he also doesn’t want to be looking at them. He’s so focused on not looking where he thinks he shouldn’t be looking that he doesn’t notice that the man isn’t laying on the grass anymore. His remaining arm has him propped up into a sitting position, staring directly at Peter.

“Say that again,” he commands Peter, “But without the stutter.”

Peter’s eyes scan over him, there’s a large portion of his shoulder and chest cavity missing, as well as the entirety of his arm, there’s no more bleeding, though, which Peter is thankful for.

“I know a doctor,” Peter says again, noticing a sudden pulse of adrenaline run through him like pure, hot energy.

“It is you, Spidey!” The man beams. Groans escape his mouth as he slowly picks himself up, Peter feels his heart sink. This person- whoever, or whatever, he is- knows who he is. Sort of. “You were just gonna leave me here?” The masked man asks, Peter can practically hear the pout in his voice.

“I-I’m Peter, I’m not- are you- are you okay? Who are you?”

“I’m offended! In another universe, we’re friends, Webs!”

“Um,” Peter scratches the back of his head nervously, “I’m sure that- uh… I’m sure you have friends, in this universe and the- the uh- the other one, but I don’t know who you are…”

“Silly me!” The man chuckles, standing unmoving in front of Peter for a moment before he laughs abruptly. “I thought-” the man manages between laughs, “That my arm was extended to shake your hand, but uh, it’s not attached to my body.”

Peter forces a chuckle and extends his own hand to clasp the man’s remaining hand in a shake, “I’m Deadpool,” he finally tells Peter. “Nice to meet you Spider-boy.”

When I say I ship Spideypool I don’t mean MCU Spideypool because that’s fucking gross. 

I mean I ship this Spideypool from the comic books: 

Spider-Man/Deadpool Icons

Reblog if you use one

Always wanted to write about or draw two of your favorite lovebirds? Well it’s finally here—the Spideypool Big Bang! What is a Big Bang you ask? Well, some of you lovely people will write your own Spideypool fanfics and other equally lovely people will choose a fic to create art for! Fun right? Sign-ups for Writers, Artists, and Betas will open AUGUST 6TH.

Please spread the word, reblog, and follow the blog for further information! The Rules, FAQ, and sign-up information will be available soon. So mark your calendars, sit tight, and get ready to create!

So I started this for @lunastories birthday and, erm, it got waylaid temporarily, but now it’s here!

Day 8: Shopping

Peter: It’s not water.

Wade: Vodka! I like your style-

Peter: It’s vinegar.

Wade: Wh-What?

Love ya, babe!!! <3