Chapter Text
Deadpool sighs as he removes his mask, sweat making his suit cling uncomfortably to his skin. He peels his gloves off and curses the hot and humid air of… whatever country he’s in.
Man, he really needs to pay more attention to his clients’ debriefings.
Well, that doesn’t matter anymore, Deadpool thinks with a smile. After weeks and weeks of spending all his time in a hot and sweaty jungle, gathering intel and stalking all the right facilities, he’d finally collected enough evidence and threatened enough people to put some rich asshole whit some boring nefarious plan to take over the world behind bars for good.
And all that with no unaliving, not even once! He’d promised Spidey he wouldn’t do that anymore, and he’s been holding on to that promise for almost two years now.
Feeling quite proud of himself, he hums the Nyan cat tune as he hastily starts packing up all his gear into his duffel bag, eager to get out of this scorchingly hot and kinda gross hotel room. He can’t wait to be back home in his apartment, preferably taking a nice bubble bath to relax all his sore muscles from the harsh weeks he’d spent in the jungle.
Oooh he should totally ask Spidey to join him. And maybe if he’s lucky he can even convince him to massage his back with the fancy oils that smell like coconuts hidden under the bathroom sink that he hasn’t even opened yet…
No! Bad Deadpool!
If he keeps thinking about this, he’ll definitely get a boner. And then he’ll have to take care of it, and that’ll make him miss his webbed wonder even more.
Besides, he really needs to stop thinking about Spidey that way. He’s lucky enough to be able to call the hero his friend, he’s not about to go ruin everything just because he has the biggest fattest crush in the history of big fat crushes on the itsy bitsy sexy spider that had crawled its way into his life.
Obviously, his thoughts can’t be trusted right now (or in general), so he decides to distract himself by opening the old square tv that sits at the edge of the feeble-looking desk in front of the bed. Judging by the state of everything else in the room, it’s a miracle it even turns on, though the screen is filled with static and the audio sounds like it’s coming from underwater.
He flips through the channels until he finally lands on an English-speaking one, some random news channel he doesn’t bother to read the name of. And of course it’s the news, can’t have a nice cartoon playing in this random fucking country.
Still, the boring monotone voice of the news anchor is a good enough distraction from his rambling thoughts. So he lets himself flop lazily onto the bed and begins to carefully clean up Bea and Arthur.
Not that he’d used them for anything more than threatening, but there’s no way he would let his babies rust because of the harsh and humid air of the jungle they’d been stuck in.
“And now, back to New York for the latest updates…”
Wade’s head snaps up towards the tv, because New York is where Spidey is and it’s also a place he’s started calling home. (And that has nothing to do with a certain spandex-clad webhead.)
A pretty blond reporter is looking back at him through the static of the screen, face grim. “The city is finally starting to recover after the past week's events, but there is still much work to be done. The police and health officials are doing everything they can to bring peace back to the streets…”
As she talks, her face is replaced by clips of bridges being reopened with miles-long lines of cars waiting to get in or out of the city, police officers arresting criminals still wearing Ryker’s flashy orange uniforms, and city workers cleaning up the streets who look downright apocalyptic right now.
Wade sits up, eyes wide as he gives the tv his full attention. What the hell? He’s only been gone for a few weeks, how did shit hit the fan so quickly?
The reporter’s face is back on the screen, looking even more somber. “And once again, the question that has been on everyone’s lips for the last two weeks still remains unanswered.” She takes a dramatic pause, looking at the camera with a mournful expression. “Where is Spider-Man?”
Wade is pretty sure his heart just stopped beating.
The screen switches to a very shaky and grainy video of Spider-Man, almost unrecognizable in a fully black suit, on top of the Oscorp tower where he’s fighting some big four-armed robot. The person recording the video is on the ground below, and gasps of worry can be heard around them every time Spider-Man gets thrown around like a rag doll by the obviously bad guy.
Even from how shitty the video is, Wade can tell how fucking intense of a fight it was. And what the fuck, why wasn’t he there!?
The reporter starts talking again as the video cuts off, just as Spidey and the robot start falling down Oscorp’s tower, accompanied by the horrified screams of the civilians watching them. “With every day that goes by without news from New York’s beloved protector, more and more people find themselves wondering… Could Spider-Man have succumbed to his fight against Doc Ock? A first vigil was held in the superhero’s honor last night, where more than a thousand people gathered in Bryant Park despite the cold weather. Some people were there to mourn, while others attended the event to show their gratitude towards the masked hero.”
The image cuts to an interview of a woman wearing a fluffy knit hat over her thick dark hair, taken during the vigil. She’s holding on tightly to a small candle, the flame swaying dangerously in the wind. She’s surrounded by people, all bundled up against the cold, and the park is strangely quiet despite being so crowded.
The woman is talking, voice shaky and looking like she’s fighting back tears. “I don’t want to believe… I don’t think Spider-Man’s gone. That’s not why I’m here tonight. I’m here because I want to show him that I care. We all do.” She gestures to the people gathered around the park, all wearing equally mournful expressions. “I don’t know if he’s still… If he’s even watching, but I want to thank him for everything he’s done for this city in the past eight years. New York isn’t the same without him… So please, please come back Spidey, we need you.”
The woman has barely finished her sentence when she burst into tears, lifting her free hand in front of her face to try and hide her sobs. The camera lingers on her for a brief moment before cutting back to the reporter, who looks sorrowful herself. “Another vigil is due this Friday, this time taking place in City Hall Park, where another thousand people are expected to go pay their respect. The city’s health department advises all citizens to stay-”
Deadpool shuts the tv off by punching straight through it.
Spidey can’t be gone. He just can’t.
***
Wade books the first flight back to New York, which is to say he rents a private plane and leaves now.
He spends the entire flight frantically trying to piece back together what the hell happened while he was gone.
First, there was the city hall bombing, perpetrated by a new gang called the Demons, who seemed to have shown up to fill the spot left behind by Wilson Fisk after his arrest. And the fact that Spidey hadn’t even shown up for that freaks him the fuck out a little bit.
Then there was the attack on Ryker’s island and the RAFT by the Doctor Octopus guy, releasing all the inmates into the streets of Manhattan. He also finds rumors that Spidey was in the hospital after the prison break, and he has to force himself to believe it’s not true or else he’s going to have a panic attack in front of the already unlucky stewardess stuck with him in this plane.
The whole ‘Spidey being blamed for Devil’s Breath and hunted by these Sable assholes’ thing makes his blood boil with pure rage when he reads about it. Thank god these fucker have already left the city by now, because he probably would have unalived them no matter what Spidey had to say about it.
Finally, there’s the fight with Doc Ock on top of Oscorp’s tower, the one he saw on the news, and then, nothing. The cure for Devil’s breath had been found the next day and had quickly been distributed to the people of Manhattan. But there’s not a single word on Spidey after that, he just completely disappeared into thin air, leaving the city and its people to pick up the pieces by themselves.
Wade spends the rest of the flight pacing back and forth the small length of the plane, muttering to himself. The stewardess hands him a glass of what he thinks is whiskey with an uneasy smile. He drinks it all in one gulp, wishing his metabolism would let him stay drunk for more than five minutes.
It’s early evening when the plane touches down at JFK airport. Dopinder is already waiting for him there, and they make it to Manhattan in record time.
Wade doesn't waste time by going back to his apartment, simply slinging his duffel back over his shoulder as he starts to prowl the unusually empty city streets.
He’s mentally preparing himself for a long night of fighting criminals and putting them back where they belong, but it doesn’t take him really long to realise that things are… not as bad as he thought they would be?
Sure there’s still a bit more crime than usual, and there are a few too many Ryker prisoners and leftover Demons for it to be totally safe and the streets could be a bit cleaner but, it’s definitely not the super-mega terrible apocalypse he’d expected from what he saw on the news.
The first time in the night he even comes across a crime, a few civilians step up and de-escalate the situation before he can even intervene. It’s a bit mind-boggling, to be honest.
Wade climbs a nearby building and perches himself at the edge of it, surveilling the streets below as he sends a few quick texts to Spidey’s contact on the force. He learns from them that the police are doing a pretty decent job at rounding up the remaining Ryker escapees and that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is taking care of any loose ends regarding the Demons gang. They even inform him of a rumor about a new mysterious vigilante keeping the streets safer at night.
He also tests his luck and sends a few more texts to Spidey but, just like the hundred or so he already sent, they remain unanswered.
So, he spends the rest of the night patrolling the city, alone for the first time in over two years, trying to ignore the dread pooling in his guts.
***
It’s about five in the morning when has to admit he won’t magically run into Spidey tonight. He drags his feet all the way to his apartment, worries and exhaustion making his steps heavier than usual.
In the end, he never does take a nice and warm bubble bath, opting instead for a cold and quick shower that does nothing to relieve the ache in his muscles.
He faceplants in his bed as soon as he’s done, still butt-ass naked and dripping wet. He’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, blissfully unaware of the world around him.
***
It’s raining, heavy droplets falling from the sky and into his eyes, making his vision blurry. A strong smell of copper reaches his nose, making his stomach churn.
Wade blinks, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him.
He standing in the middle of a dark street he doesn’t recognise, purple neon lights barely lighting up the buildings around him. There’s a familiar bundle of red and blue spandex lying on the ground in front of him, staying unnaturally still.
Wade drops to his knees without meaning to, crawling towards the unmoving body of his friend.
“Spidey?” His voice is shaky as he calls out, barely audible.
The sound of pouring rain is the only thing that answers him.
No…
No, no this can’t be happening!
He tries to shake Spidey awake, but his grip keeps slipping right off, no matter how hard he tries to hold on.
Confused, he brings his hands up to his face, only to find them covered in blood, warm and slick against his skin.
Wade wakes up with a scream, jerking upright in his bed. He’s covered in sweat, heart beating frantically in his chest and struggling to breathe.
It takes him an embarrassingly long time to recover from the nightmare, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, trying his best to take deep grounding breaths.
If this had happened to him only a year ago, he wouldn’t have wasted a second and put a bullet through his brain the second he’d woken up to forget about the nightmare.
But now... now he knows that offing himself on purpose only makes Spidey sad, and that it won’t actually solve any of his problems.
What he needs to do is to go look for Spidey.
Now.
***
Despite his ugly mug, being in his civvies is still less suspicious than the whole Deadpool gear, so he steps out on the sidewalk wearing loose-fitting jeans, a dark hoodie, and a baseball cap firmly planted on his head.
He spends most of his day wandering aimlessly through the streets of Manhattan, trying to catch a glimpse of red spandex or hoping to recognize a very round and very marvelous butt in a crowd.
A few infructuous hours later, his wandering leads him to the front of the Feast building in Chinatown. The sight of the building makes him stop in his tracks, a small smile tugging at his lips without his consent as a fond memory makes warmth spread in his chest.
***
“Okay, okay, I got one!” Spidey tells him between two bursts of giggles, holding onto his side with one hand, swinging his feet over the edge of the building they're sitting on. “What kind of fish is made only of two sodium atoms?”
Wade shrugs, fighting to keep his own laughter down. “I don’t know.”
“Two Na!” Spidey barely gets the words out before he starts wheezing with laughter, slapping a hand against his thigh.
Wade groans in disgust at the pun, throwing his head up in despair towards the starry sky above, but the effect is lessened by the way his shoulders shake with silent laughter.
He’s about to make a terrible joke in retaliation when, all of a sudden, Spidey stops moving, head tilted slightly to the side like he’s listening to a voice Deadpool can’t hear.
Wade has spent enough time with the hero to know what this means, muscles tensing as he readies himself for a fight.
Spidey doesn’t say anything as he grabs him by the back of his belt and sends them both plummeting down the street, catching himself at the last second with his webs.
Wade squeals in delight as Spidey swings them through the city at a dizzying speed, flipping them over skyscrapers with impressive ease.
They’re back on the ground seconds later, almost halfway across the city already. They’ve landed in front of a pretty run-down bodega and, standing right in front of them, eyes wide as saucers, is a man holding a gun with trembling hands. (And his stance is terrible too, he probably wouldn't be able to hit Wade if he was standing three feet in front of him.)
Spidey shoots out a web and sends the gun flying into Wade’s hands with a flick of his wrist, disarming the man with ease.
“Please, don’t call the cops! I’m sorry!” The man pleas, raising his hands in surrender.
Spider-Man sighs, tilting his head to the side and putting a hand on his hip. “Buddy, if I had a nickel-”
“Please!” The man interrupts, eyes shining with tears. “You don’t understand, I didn’t have a choice. I have t-two little girls and I just needed enough money to buy them food. You have to believe me, I-I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
The man is openly crying now, shaking like a leaf and whipping the snot in his nose with the back of his hand. Gross .
Deadpool rolls his eyes, about to tell the man to shut up, but Spidey takes a step forward before he can open his mouth.
“I believe you.”
The man freezes, looking at Spider-Man with wide eyes. “Y-you do?”
“Yeah.” Spidey reassures, voice much softer now. “And I’ve got a deal for you.”
“W-what is it?” The man asks cautiously, wrapping his arms around himself.
“There’s a Feast center two streets down from here. Next time you don’t have enough money for food, you take your kids and you bring them there to grab a meal. And trust me when I say they got the best wheatcakes in the whole city. Deal?”
The man barely hesitates a second before nodding vigorously. “Y-yeah, deal. I promise I won’t do this again.”
“Good.” Spider-Man nods once, satisfied. “Now go back to your girls and don’t get into any more trouble.”
The man doesn’t need to be told twice, practically running as he gets away from them, thanking Spider-Man profusely as he does. They watch him leave until he turns a corner and disappears from their sight.
“So…” Spidey says nonchalantly, turning so that he’s facing Wade. “Wanna go get tacos?”
They end up sitting on the edge of a different rooftop, eating their way through a bag full of tacos and watching as the sun barely starts to poke through the horizon. The quiet is pretty unusual between them, but they’re both too busy stuffing their mouth to speak. (Not that it's ever stopped Wade before, but he’s trying his best to be polite goddamnit!)
Spidey is the one to break the silence, speaking in a soft voice, sounding almost wistful. “These are the kinds of nights I like the best, ya know? No supervillain threatening to destroy the world, no one using civilians as target practice, just… helping someone who needs it. Knowing that something you did, no matter how small, is going to change someone’s life for the better. That’s what makes it all worth it to me.”
He turns towards Deadpool with a smile that’s slightly crooked and bright and absolutely perfect. “Spending time with you was just an added bonus.”
And that’s the exact moment Wade knew that he was absolutely, completely, irreversibly, totally in love with Spider-Man.
***
Wade blinks himself back to the present, a brilliant idea popping into his head.
He’s going to volunteer at Feast.
Since the city had clearly been doing fine picking up the pieces without him around, this is the best way he can truly help right now. Also, Spidey had seemed really familiar with the place, so maybe he’ll find a clue about his favorite arachnid’s whereabouts there.
With no plan and a whole lot of determination, Wade walks into the building.
The entrance is pretty big, with one side dedicated to a waiting area and a reception desk. On the opposite side is a frankly sad-looking donation table and a wall filled with pictures of all the volunteers working at the shelter.
He heads for the reception desk, where a young girl with thick, curly black hair and warm brown eyes is tapping away at a computer with impressive speed.
“Hello.” The girl looks at him with a tired smile, pointing to a stack of papers at the corner of the desk before he even has the chance to open his mouth. “If this is your first time here please fill out one of these forms and come back to see me once you're done.”
“Uhm, actually, I’m here to volunteer.”
The receptionist's face brightens up like it’s the first time she’s heard the words in a long time, eyes growing wide. “Oh! Yes of course!” She hands him a clipboard and a pen, huffing out a small laugh. “Just fill up this information sheet and bring it to Peter once you’re done, he should be in his office right upstairs. He’ll make the paperwork official and then you’ll be good to go.”
Wade thanks her as he takes the offered clipboard and pen, forcing himself to look into her eyes despite how it makes his skin crawl.
“No problem! And if you need help with something don’t hesitate to ask me. I’m Aude.” She extends her hand and Wade hesitates for a few seconds before shaking it, cursing himself for having forgotten his gloves.
Aude doesn’t seem to notice his internal struggle, or maybe she does and is just pretending like it’s not happening, shaking his hand without a second thought, not even flinching at the feeling of his skin.
He fills out the paperwork sitting in one of the small plastic chairs by the large windows. He writes down his job as ‘freelance work’ and, when he’s asked why he chose to volunteer, his answer is ‘for a friend’.
Once he’s done, he gets up and waves at Aude from across the room. She waves back just as enthusiastically, smiling brightly. (Okay, it’s official, Wade loves that kid.)
With an assured smile on his face and a pep in his step, Wade climbs the stairs and begins his search for Peter’s office.